emisreadingstuff

[emisreadingstuff]

i'm in love with this !!! aaaaa

independent contractor

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

fully inspired by this post

warnings/tags: no outbreak au, no sarah mentioned, but we can always pretend she’s at collage or something, infidelity by reader(reader’s hubby is an asshole), contractor!joel, age gap (late 20s/mid 50s) , masterbation (m), smelling of panties(?), sexting, oral (receiving), p in v (unprotected- don’t do that!!) general smut so children leave!! mdni 18+

word count: 6.1k

a/n: i understand not everyone is going to dig the infidelity thing so i get that, if you are not into that please just scroll on, thank you :)

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It was a beautiful dress but damn if it wasn’t complicated, the back had all these complicated buttons and clasps to hold it closed. You had managed to get yourself into the thin fabric but just as you needed your husband to close the dress, he had conveniently disappeared. He had been dressed for the party for a while and had been running around the house trying to organize the vendors. It was all for some charity thing he was throwing through his company. He was the CEO of some big company that even after 5 years of marriage you still didn’t understand. Something to do with finance? Maybe.

“Hon? Are you up here?” You huffed as you realized he was not in ear shot. Your husband had a habit of doing this, leaving right when you needed him in favor of something he needed.

You can now admit to yourself that the marriage you were in was a little rushed. Ok, maybe more than rushed. You were engaged within three months of meeting and married in less than a year. The first year of marriage was amazing, he would shower you with gifts and trips and practically worshiped the ground you walk on. It now felt like he only did this to rope you in. He began to take multiple long ‘work trips’ every month and you soon found evidence of an affair (or multiple). Once, there was long hair all over his clothes that was definitely not his or yours along with red lipstick smudged on a white shirt. Was he not even trying to hide it or did he just not care?

You had always told yourself that ‘you’d never be with a cheater’ and you wouldn’t fall prey to men who used women. Well, after a quick marriage, that you begged your parents to go along with, you felt like you had nowhere else to go. Your parents would not be happy and would surely find a way to blame you, and all your friends were also his. So, you kept your head high as your husband did as he pleased. You were now a forgotten trophy on the shelf he felt didn’t need polishing anymore. So you did as you pleased, with his money. One of the things you liked spending his money on was renovations to the house that you were usually alone in.

Currently, you were renovating the other side of the house to become a library/craft area for yourself. The contractor was actually at the house doing a walk through before the party got started. He happened to hear you calling for your husband from down the hall and came to your rescue.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am, I think he went downstairs,” he was looking down when he first walked in, probably to make sure you were decent. What a gentleman.

“Of course he did, uhg,” you fumbled with the clasps behind your back and failed to make a difference.

“I can go get ‘em for ya?”

“No that’s ok Joel, thank you,” Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction. He had been so great from the beginning, knowing exactly what you wanted for the library, seeing your vision immediately. He was very much the southern Texan gentleman, ‘yes ma’am, no ma’am’, no matter how many times you told him you hated it. “and please, Joel. I’m not a ma’am.” Your smile drew his eyes up.

”My mama would kill me if she heard me call ya’ anythin’ but, ma’am,” he stepped into the room, already coming to help even with your refusal. “I’m more delicate than ya think, im sure i can handle some buttons,” he came up behind you in the mirror and his soft touch on your shoulder blade made you inhale. You held the dress against your chest making sure he had room to fasten the small clasps. You caught his gaze in the mirror that was fixated on the dip in the front of the dress.

He matched your smile.

His surprisingly nimble fingers secure every last fastening and it feels like you can hear your own heart beating out of your chest. It had been a long time since you were looked at the way Joel was looking at you. He was a handsome man, big and rugged but soft in his features. He had these deep brown eyes that you could get lost in and lips that would make a nun blush. He was affecting you in ways your husband hadn’t done in years, he was turning you on. A complete stranger was turning you on and you didn’t really feel guilty.

Did that make you a terrible person?

You know what, fuck it. Your husband cheated and left you alone in life, you were entitled to some flirting every now and then.

“There ya are darlin’,” dear lord, his voice. The deep southern drawl made your panties wet.

“Thank you… Joel.”

”Enjoy the party,” watching him walk away was the hardest thing all night, aside from having to laugh at all your husband’s bad jokes all night. All night your mind was occupied by the sexy contractor.

~

It had been about a week since the party and the library reno was well underway. Joel and his team, including the other half of Miller Construction, his brother Tommy, were working tirelessly. In that last week your husband had been in and out of the house at weird times. On this particular day he left early in the morning without saying so much as a word to you. You used the day to mope around on your phone or read but what kept stealing your attention was the attractive contractor.

His team wasn’t around so the house was truly empty, the quiet was starting to drive you mad. As you wandered up the winding staircase, you found a sweatshirt draped over the railing. That damn husband, he leaves shit everywhere. Without thinking much of it, you threw the hoodie on as you found the library under construction.

The sweatshirt smells like sawdust and something distinctly man. That's different from what your husband normally smells like. The thought of him buying new cologne for some mistress almost made your blood boil, if you truly loved him anymore it would.

The library was really starting to come together, the plans on the table laid out the new shelves and built in table being put in and you dreamed of the days you would spend in there. The rest of your day was spent inside, no husband in sight so you did what you wanted, camped out on the couch with snacks galore and bad tv. Your husband eventually came home, after midnight, to find you passed out on the couch. You were roused by him, he woke you to send you off to bed. He used to carry you.

“Hey, get to bed, it's late… New hoodie?” Your eyebrows narrowed and you looked at him confused.

“What? It’s yours?”

”No it's not, I don't work at ‘Miller Construction’…” his tone felt like sandpaper against your skin. Also, have you been wearing Joel’s sweatshirt this whole time?

~

You wore it almost every day. Refusing to even wash it, it would get rid of the smell. The smell of him. It was like a drug, anytime your husband left you alone in that big house you wrapped yourself in Joel.

The rumble of the engine told you someone was at the house, but the deep southern drawl was what told you it was Joel. You felt giddy, like a girl with her first crush. You were already wearing the sweatshirt because you were expecting him today. He was leading his team of guys up to the library, telling them what to get started on. You made your way up there, under the guise of greeting Joel and asking if they need anything. In reality you wanted to see his reaction to you wearing his clothes.

“Morning Joel, you guys need anything?”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. He noticed right away, scanning the hoodie and his gaze set your skin on fire. You felt your cheeks heat up as he stepped closer, the air was thick with tension and you immediately felt the mood change. His lips curved up in the corner slightly as he lowered his voice.

He looked handsome as always, the salt and pepper in his beard and hair was somehow very attractive to you. He was older for sure but you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t part of the attraction.

“Nice sweatshirt you got there…,” you could practically feel his heart beating just inches from you. “Miller.”

You had to strangle down a breath hearing his voice drop an octave like that, teasing you. This was real… Joel Miller, your contractor, was flirting with you. And you liked it, a lot. Not only the blatantly wrong flirting but the fact that your husband could come home at any time. It was making your skin flush with arousal and it felt like he could sense it somehow.

“I can wash it and get it back to you,” you wanted to gauge how into this he was. He did not disappoint.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jesus christ.

“Keep it sugar, looks better on ya anyway,” he left you there, finally with enough room to breathe without inhaling his intoxicating cologne. Holy shit, holy shit!

Your mind never strayed far from the older man, you seemed to fixate on the memory of him crowding you in your own home. The rest of the day went smoothly, you went about your business as the Miller Construction crew worked on your new library. You could hear the men working upstairs and every time you heard that one specific rumbling southern drawl your heart stopped for just a beat.

You were screwed.

~

Joel’s day could not have been longer, though he was the only one that noticed. The rest of the crew worked through the day, trying to get their tasks done sooner rather than later to be able to go home on time. Meanwhile, he was thinking about the pretty wife of the man who is paying him. He knew it was wrong but damn if it didn’t feel good. He saw the way your husband acted around you the last few weeks, he was engaged in every conversation except ones with you. Joel could even tell that the man was cheating, he clearly wasn’t trying to hide it. That’s really the only reason he was letting himself indulge with you, that and you seemed to be on the same page as him.

He knew he was in trouble, he had already memorized your features, your lips haunting him most of all. Every time you spoke he was entranced, unable to look away from your mouth. This was so wrong, he was working for you and your husband. He couldn’t help it, you were perfect, everything he could ever want. He dreamed about feeling you under him and that thought kept him half hard in his jeans all day.

By the time he was set to leave he felt like if he didn’t get himself taken care of he was going to explode. All he could think about was you in that damn hoodie, and how he would bend you over with it on. He knew it would smell like you now, it would smell like both of you. As he hopped into his truck he was so distracted that he didn’t see you coming down the driveway towards his car.

“Hey Joel…” Fuck. “I just wanted to get this back to you before I forget.” The gray fabric already smelled like you from where you held it by his car window. Why were you giving it back? He told you to keep it.

”Oh thanks darlin’,” it wasn’t lost on him how your eyes sparkled at this nickname. You were in the most delicious little shorts, showing just enough of the tops of your thighs as you walked back into the house. Fuck, he felt like such a dirty old man. You were so much younger and bright and kind. He felt like he could never deserve you.

He threw the hoodie on the passenger seat as he felt another surge of guilt and arousal settle into this stomach. Just as he was about to pull onto the street, he noticed something much darker than the hoodie sticking out of the pocket. He pulled it to reveal a pair of lacy black panties.

His heart nearly stopped. He would have never expected this, a sweet girl like you leaving her panties in her contractors sweatshirt. His jeans became even tighter than before as he pulled the panties up to his face.

He really was a dirty old man.

They had clearly been worn and it made his head spin, they smelled like heaven and you, he worried he might cum at the smell alone. He needed to get home.

As he raced home with your underwear gripped in his hand, he battled his thoughts. He knew it was wrong to mess around with a married woman but he felt different with you already. You were like the light at the end of his very lonely tunnel, no one ever looked at him the way you did. He practically tore his front door off the hinges as he rushed up to his bedroom. He felt like a teenager with an uncontrollable boner trying to find release.

The black lace was tight in his grip as he shucked his jeans off, the constricting fabric making his blood boil. He pulled himself free and the first touch to his hard length caused a gravely moan to slip from his lips. Tension and heat gathered in his stomach as he stroked himself. His fingers were rough as they circled his weeping tip but he needed to feel relief. He couldn’t even get himself into the shower, he just dropped onto the edge of his bed and never stopped moving his hand.

Those dark panties were teasing him, you were teasing him. You had to be, maybe you were making fun of his obvious crush. No, there was no way you would have grinned like you did if you didn’t feel the same way. It was an offering, a way for you to make a move without being apparent.

Holy shit. You wanted him.

That made his lower muscles spasm suddenly and his orgasm started to barrel down his spine. He pictured you in your small shorts earlier that day and he lost it. A deep groan escaped his throat as he spilled all over his knuckles. He pumped until he was oversensitive, his whole body reacting until he fell back into the bed.

All night his brain juggled wanting nothing but you and telling himself it was wrong. And it was wrong, at least on paper, of course he shouldn’t be messing with a client's wife. Even if she wanted him back.

~

Last time you saw Joel outside his car was almost a week ago. It was driving you crazy. You worried that he took it the wrong way or didn’t even see them. You couldn’t decide if you should be mortified, nervous, turned on or all the above. Then your phone went off.

Usually the texts between you and Joel were regarding what materials or paint you wanted. Now it was something totally different.

5:04PM >Joel: Sorry I have not been to check on the progress of the library personally. There was an emergency at another job.

>Joel: Also, thank you for my gift.

Only someone like Joel would thank you for sneaking him a pair of your panties.

5:09PM <You: im glad you liked them

<You: i was a little worried…

Your heart was thundering in your chest. Your husband was right across the couch, engrossed in his baseball game more than you, per usual. Was it wrong to like this so much, the fact that he had no idea you were texting another man right now, in front of him.

5:12PM >Joel: Why would you be worried? It's the best gift anyone’s ever given me.

>Joel: Any man should be so lucky.

Your pulse kicked up again somehow. He was making it all sound so meaningful. Maybe it was to him. Maybe he never took it the wrong way. Maybe he took it exactly the right way.

5:14PM <You: did you use them?

There was a pause for a few minutes.

5:20PM >Joel: Jesus…

>Joel: I’m at work, darlin.

5:22PM <You: so?

5:25PM >Joel: You got a mouth on you, huh?

5:26PM <You: and i know how to use it

5:28PM >Joel: We might just have to have you prove yourself then.

5:30PM <You: just tell me when

5:31PM >Joel: You are dangerous, angel.

>Joel: I have them in my pocket right now.

>Joel: I couldn’t help myself.

Jesus, this man was going to be the death of you. He was carrying your panties around in his pocket, while he was at work. Your thighs instantly squeezed together and it was at that moment you decided.

Fuck it, he made you feel good and your husband clearly didn’t care about your needs. You needed a divorce, and not just because of Joel. It was about you finally doing what’s good for you.

Suddenly an idea came to you, admititly a very bad idea but again, fuck it.

5:36PM <You: hey, do you have any plans tonight?

5:37PM >Joel: You know darlin, I don’t.

Thank god.

5:38PM <You: what’s your address?

5:38PM >Joel: 7 Oak Village Rd. I get home at 7.

5:38PM <You: see you then

You needed a plan. Your husband wouldn’t really care if you made last minute plans, you just needed a reason. Since he barely takes the time to pay attention to you, he definitely doesn’t know your friends very well.

“Hey, I know this is super random, but my friend Ashley”(totally a fake friend) “just got dumped, Isn’t that awful? She wants me to come over so she’s not alone. Would you care if I spent the night with her?”

It wasn’t really an odd thing, you spent the night with friends before. You should feel bad for lying so easily like this but the thrill of it all was keeping you going. You knew he wouldn’t object but he barely even looked at you. A quick glance back before he focused on the tv again as he waved you off.

”Yea, I don’t care… Johnny’s coming over anyway. Have fun.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, you knew you should be upset but you were too used to it at this point. You went upstairs to pack a bag and get ready. It had been a long time since a booty call and you forgot how giddy it made you feel. Knowing you were going to a man's house who actually wanted you there and actually wanted you.

Once you showered and finished packing, you went down to head out the garage. Apparently while you were upstairs Johnny and many more came over and had taken over the couch as they all debated over some play in the game. You tried to get your husband's attention, calling his name and waving at him. Anger boiled over in your gut. Just another reason not to feel guilty about tonight.

You loaded up into the car and pulled out of the massive driveway without a regret in your heart. This was the beginning of a new chapter and it felt right in so many ways. Your skin was buzzing with arousal, you had been thinking of Joel’s thick hands that would soon be on you, throughout your whole shower.

Before you left the neighborhood you sent Joel a quick text.

7:13PM <You: on my way

7:14PM >Joel: Can’t wait.

You felt the heat creep up into your cheeks and down your neck. Your nerves did start to wear on you though, all the usual stuff; Will he like me? Do I look nice? Did I miss a spot shaving my legs? You decided to wear a thin silk slip dress/nightgown under a baggy zip up hoodie. You figured it was a good way to look ‘sloppy’ enough that your husband wouldn’t care, if he even looked your way. You made the short drive over to Joel’s neighborhood and your nerves seemed to melt away as you got closer. It was odd, normally this kind of thing would send your pulse skyrocketing but the thought of seeing Joel made you calm, almost serene. He definitely made your head swim with giddy arousal though.

You found the beautiful house marked ‘No. 7’ and knocked on the perfectly painted door. Of course his house was gorgeous, he was a contractor. Only moments went by until the door was pulled open by that very sexy looking contractor. His brown curls were slightly messy on his head and he wore some kind of faded shirt and loose sweatpants that hung way too low. You couldn’t look away.

“Hi darlin’,” he rubbed his neck and his cheeks went red. He was nervous.

“Hi,” you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face.

“Come in, here let me.” He gently took your bag from your shoulder and guided you to the couch where he had a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. The inside of his home was just as beautiful as the outside; the couch was large and comfortable, there was quiet music playing in the corner from an old school record player and books and plants littering the shelves. He came back and poured you both a glass and clinked the two together before you each took a long drink. He finally sat down and you turned so your feet were up against his leg, quickly feeling comfortable with him.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be ok… with me coming over.”

“Why?” God his southern accent was like honey.

“I don’t know, maybe it was…I was too forward.” You were sure why you felt the need to bring this up, maybe clear the air somehow. “I’m divorcing him, I can't do it anymore.” Saying it out loud made your heart lurch.

“I get it sweetheart, it ain’t fair that he treats ya’ that way.” You were leaning into each other at this point, unable to stop the magnetic pull between you. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his hand near your shoulder. He started to entwine his finger in your hair, his big brown eyes danced over your face and it made you almost want to shy away from his gaze.

“You don’t think I'm a terrible person?” You looked into his eyes finally, wanting to know how he felt about you, how he felt about this.

His fingers left your hair as his thumb brushed over your lips. “Y’not a terrible anythin’ darlin’,” then he moved.

He was on you before you could take another breath. He slotted his lips over yours, his tongue sliding between them. He devoured you, stole the breath from your lungs. It was all consuming the way he kissed you, it felt like he was starved and you were all he wanted to consume. He sat back and pulled you with him, your legs wrapping around his hips leaving your core right in his lap. His hand cupped both cheeks as you pressed yourself fully to him, your hips grinding down into his. Your baggy sweatshirt was obstructing your skin from touching his, you needed more and the fabric was too warm.

You leaned back and you finally got a good look at his face as you pulled the zipper down. His lips were swollen and red and his eyes were almost all pupils. After ripping the bulky fabric off he finally moved his hands to the rest of you. He traced your arms down to where your hands laid on your thighs, he then lightly ran his fingers up your back over the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“You are so… fuck, you’re so gorgeous.” He sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath and yours caught in your throat. He pulled you into him again but it still wasn’t enough skin. As his soft lips worked over your pulse and his rough beard scratched at your neck you knew you needed more of him. You groaned as you pulled away again and tried to pull his shirt off yourself but he was just large enough to make it difficult. He smirked at you as he leaned forward to remove the shirt and your skin finally made contact with his.

You both groaned as you came together once again, finally able to feel his warm solid chest against yours. He explored your body again as your mouths did the same, he kissed down your neck, over your shoulders and between your breasts. The thin straps holding up the nightgown were quickly pulled down, revealing your chest to him. He lavished you and you felt the vibration of his groans as he licked the crevice between your breasts before closing his mouth around a peak and sucking. Your whole body arched into his, your fingers carding through his hair which made him groan deeper.

“Fuck— Joel,” your skin was on fire and you were lightheaded. You knew somewhere deep down you should feel bad or guilty but it was the furthest thing from your mind. He made you feel like you were floating, your soul somehow detached from your body.

He pulled back from you, just enough to catch his breath and look into your eyes. His hands however never stopped roaming your skin. His pupils were blown wide, almost none of the deep brown in his eyes were left now. He dipped his head and dove back into your skin, his lips attaching to your neck and it made you groan and your core clench.

He groaned into you and you felt it rumble through his chest. You felt like you were losing grip on reality, you couldn’t tell someone your own name if they asked. It was all worth it because you were lost in the pleasure of feeling him under you, but you needed more of him.

You dropped to the floor, the carpet soft under your knees. You tried to pull Joel’s pants down his hips, almost frantically as if you didn’t see all of him now you would die.

“Hol’on darlin’,” he kind of giggled as he slipped the fabric off his hips and he fell back onto the couch and looked down at you with his mouth hanging open in awe. You met his gaze before looking down at his hard length.

Fuck, he was big.

You lowered your mouth to him, teasing your lips over his silky skin. His breath caught in his chest. You ran your tongue up and his hand came up to hold the back of your head, not to force but support. Eventually his fingers grabbed into your hair when you wrapped your lips around him and pulled him in. You felt his rough moan reverberate into your body every time you dropped your head. It was difficult to take him all at once but you had to feel him, everywhere.

“Fuck, oh my—gooood…” he dropped his head back onto the couch but you knew he was watching you, his eyes never left you. You felt your arousal spread between your thighs knowing you were driving him mad. Before you even got a chance to really do much Joel pulled you up on your feet. He stayed seated and looked up at you through his lashes and your heart stopped for a second seeing him below you like this made your stomach dip and your panties wet.

His eyes were blazing a path over your body, nightgown bunched around your waist with your entire chest exposed. You should be cold but you felt like you were on fire. He ran his palms up the backside of your legs until he reached the lacy fabric of your underwear. His eyes never left yours as he slowly pulled the fabric off your hips and over your ass, his hands touching skin the whole way down and helped you step out of it. That swooping feeling settled into your stomach again as he slid his fingers back up the inside of your leg until he reached your hot center, eyes never leaving yours. You both moaned as he dipped into the slick that coated your skin.

“Mhmmm, this all f’me?” He looked at you with a mix of arrogance and pure desire as he moved his fingers in a slow circular motion. It was made easy by just how wet you were, you didn’t know if you had ever been this wet before. That’s the effect he had on you, or maybe this is just a primal kind of desire that you never had with your soon-to-be ex-husband.

Either way you were spiraling fast. You knew once you two came together you wouldn’t last long. You needed to feel him, it was driving you mad.

Joel seemed to be taking it slow, which you can admire as this is very new and he probably wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. While you admired him taking the time to make you comfortable you couldn’t wait anymore. As he kissed your chest and his fingers kept moving in agonizing circles across your sensitive bundle while you straddled his lap. His hard length rubbed against your center and both of your bodies shook with desire.

He groaned as he wasn’t expecting you to be on him so fast. His hands ran along every inch, taking you into him and never wanting to let go. You rocked your hips and slowly dragged your core across his length causing you both to stutter and moan. You were sick of waiting for the thing you had been thinking about non stop for weeks.

“Will you… make me feel good?” Your voice was squeaky and horse from all the moans and his eyes fluttered at your request.

“Oh darlin’… that bastard ain’t taking care of you huh? When’s the last time you were properly touched?”

You turned your eyes away from him, slightly embarrassed that he was able to tell that so easily. “Uhm… a while.” He gave you a pointed look, clearly not liking your non-answer. “A… a year,” his eyes widened at your admission. “Over a year…” You cringed at your final answer. You weren’t proud of the fact that it had been so long but you haven't been attracted to your husband in a long time.

”Oh… you poor thing,” he bracketed your cheeks with his large hands. “Don’t worry darlin’.”

Joel was losing composure quickly, he was ready to give you everything you deserved. His nimble fingers reached between your bodies and slid along your center, drawing a wanton moan from your chest. You ground your hips into his hand trying to create the friction he wasn’t giving you. He slowly spread your lips and ran his fingers gingerly over your clit causing your body to shake in his grasp.

“Hmm… y’all wet f’me?” His southern drawl was making his lust-drunk words slur together deliciously. The scruff of his mustache scratched at your neck but his lips and tongue soothed over the sensitive skin.

“Mmhmm… Joel— oh god please,” you sounded just as lost. Your voice cracked and your hips never stopped moving over his hand, desperate for attention.

“Don’t worry darlin’, I gotcha,” he quickly flipped you and your back hit the plush couch. A soft ‘oomf’ escaped your lips and Joel was mesmerized as you lay beneath him. “Oh look at’cha, you’re so pretty baby.”

His words were like hot honey, warm and sweet. You shifted under him and wrapped your fingers around his hard shaft and the groan that reverberated through his chest made your breath catch in your throat. You kept stroking him as his fingers found your wet center again, spreading your release over your puffy folds. As you wrapped your legs around his hips, you guided his crown to your core and felt the sweet stretch of him entering you slowly.

He paused for a few moments and looked like he was trying to center himself again before pushing his hips fully into yours and held himself there. A deep rumbling groan broke through his lips as he began to move, the stretch was making you nervous at first but you felt more and more comfortable as he kept moving. When he started to rub your neglected clit, a bolt of pleasure shot down your spine causing your back to arch and nails to dig into his arms.

“Such a good girl, baby… ngh— you-you feel so good,” his syrupy words made your head feel fuzzy and limbs heavy. His hips started to snap into yours at a harsher pace and his fingers spent up between you in tandem. Your orgasm was quickly approaching with his movements, faster than you expected. Was this the norm for people with healthy relationships and sex lives, real attraction? You couldn’t even finish the thought before Joel sped up his fingers and started to hammer into you. He was surrounding you, hovering over with those dark eyes and large shoulders. The smell of him alone was about to send you over the edge, he smelled like soap and a little like sawdust, all over man. His voice broke you out of your hazy state.

“You’re gonna— cum for me darlin’, I—I can’t hold on…much longer baby.” His voice was rough and demanding and almost like your body listened, you fell over the edge. The lewd moans and shouts of Joel’s name coming out of our mouth surprised you both. At feeling you cum around him, Joel lost all of his remaining control. He stilled inside you and you felt his muscles contract in his release.

“Oh fu—fuck! oh my… god,” he slumped against you and you welcomed his weight. You both settled into the couch as you rubbed your arms up and down his back. “I’m— I’m sorry darlin’, it's been a while. Normally I'd have… taken my time.”

He sounded almost nervous, it made you smile.

“Joel, stop. You have nothing to apologize for.”

”I’ll redeem myself next time.”

Next time? He wants there to be a next time!

You smiled to yourself and hummed at the content feeling of being under him while he still filled you.

You drifted to a place of half consciousness and woke up in, what you were pretty sure was the morning to the smell of bacon. You turned over in a bed, Joel's bed, to find it empty. You looked around the room and found it to be just like Joel, cozy and masculine. You located a shirt of his and threw it on before heading down the stairs to find a very sexy shirtless Joel standing in his kitchen, flipping pancakes.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” his voice was thick with sleep and you walked up to him at the stove. With one large arm he pulled you into his side and kissed the top of your head. A slow smile spread on your lips at the familiarity of it all, the warmness of having someone to take care of you like this, emotionally. Something you almost never had with your husband, soon to be ex.

“Joel… thank you, for this.”

“What’cha mean darlin?”

“Taking care of me. Letting me come over last night.”

“Hey, look at me,” he tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. “Anytime you need me, I’m here.”

You tried to blink away the tears gathering on your lashes but one managed to slip, Joel’s thumb catching it before it reached your cheek. Time felt like it stopped as you leaned in to each other, lips pressing together as you moaned at the feeling.

The day was spent lazing in bed and talking about all the things you two would do when your divorce was finalized. The idea of divorce was the scariest thing in the world when you first thought about it, but now, knowing Joel would be with you every step of the way… you couldn’t wait.

[emisreadingstuff]

"I know I'm handsome, but don’t look at me like that — it makes my knees go weak."

[emisreadingstuff]

kat this is so gorgeous AHHH!! how do I sign up for a monthly subscription of javi ?! I LOVE how it felt as if they were actually talking to each other, sometimes I had to remind myself that they weren't lmao. I need them to meet each other omg ! also we love our bestie heheh <3

imagine pornstar javi having an only fans 😩

girl i'd subscribe so fast

oh hell yeah nonnie, me too... top subscriber, working 3 jobs just to support this sexy man. who's with me?! 🙂‍↕️ tagging @miss-oranje-disco-dancer & @almostempty because duhhh 🖤 i hope i did this justice!

tags: f!reader, smut babes, onlyfans!javi let's gooo, he talks you through it, dirty talk duh, masturbation (f&m), use of pet names (doll, baby, sweetheart, muñeca, bella), roleplaying (?), i have no idea how OF works so just vibe with me, everyone say thank you to your bestie, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx. ~ 3.1k w/c

p.s. if you’re into pornstar!javi you should check this out 🖤

look at how yummy this dick is 👀

You frown as you read the message preview sent from your best friend. Your eyes flit up to check the time.

It’s barely past two in the morning. Does this bitch ever sleep? Granted— you’re also up late.

You tap on the notification before it disappears, going into your message thread with her and you see the link attached to her horny message.

why are you sending me unsolicited dick pics at 2 am? what would your man think of this?

She replies right away.

first of all i don’t have a man second of all it’s a video and just please go watch it

You’re confused by that first message since she was just raving about this guy she met at her job but you let it go, tapping on the link and waiting for safari to open it up.

The OnlyFans website loads and prompts you to log in before continuing. You go back to your messages.

tabling the i don’t have a man convo for another time can’t see it because i don’t have an account 

She’s quick to send you her log in and you laugh out loud— of course she’s a registered user.

You type in her email and password, patiently waiting before the post she sent you loads and your eyes widen.

Just the thumbnail has you intrigued. A man, dressed in a tailored navy suit sans the jacket and tie, the fabric of his white collared shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The title reads: Late Night at the Office. 

The transparent play button teases you, almost daring you to give in to the intrigue.

So you tap it.

It begins with the mystery man seated, the frame capturing him from the tip of his strong nose down to the top of his thighs. His features are striking from what you can see— plump, pink lips framed by a neatly trimmed mustache, adding a hint of rugged sophistication to his appearance.

His legs are spread wide, unapologetically taking up space, the rich leather of the chair creaking subtly beneath him. His thighs strain against the fabric of his suit pants.

There’s something about the way he sits, so sure of himself, so confident in his own skin, that draws your eye immediately to the center of the frame. One hand rests lazily on his thigh, the other cradles a phone, as if he’s deep into an intimate call. His eyes, though hidden, seem locked on you through the screen, pulling you deeper into his fantasy.

And then, he speaks.

“Have to stay late, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

His voice slides through the speakers of your phone like liquid velvet— deep and smooth, carrying an accent that’s definitely southern but tinged with something else, wrapping itself around each word like a caress.

“Don’t be upset, doll. Let me make it up to you.”

His tone is gentle but authoritative, luring you in. The air feels charged, and despite the fact that you’re watching from behind a screen, it feels as though his words are meant for you and you alone.

“Why don’t you undress for me and lean back,” the command is soft yet irresistible.

Your breath catches in your throat, a soft gasp you weren’t expecting, as your thighs instinctively press together beneath the plush comforter, seeking some form of relief from the growing ache.

It’s as if he has some kind of power over you, the pull in his voice coaxing you into compliance. Your skin prickles with anticipation as you glance around your quiet studio apartment, almost instinctively checking if anyone might be watching; like your best friend who lured you into this horny trap in the first place. 

But of course, there’s no one else here— just you and his low, hypnotic voice filling the space around you.

You pause it, antsy fingers reaching for the hem of your nighttime slip dress, the soft fabric sliding effortlessly off your skin then being tossed aside. Propping your phone up with a decorative pillow at the edge of the bed, you angle it so you’re able to see him perfectly.

You feel a rush of warmth, excitement, as you resume the video and settle back against the mountain of pillows behind you.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, baby,” he murmurs, his tone low and husky, the faintest edge of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t stop picturing you, lying in bed… all warm and soft, just waiting for me to take care of you.”

Your lips part instinctively, tongue grazing the corner as you feel the pull of lust tightening in your core. Your nipples, already taut from the cool air in your space, ache for attention.

You shift, thighs rubbing together again, unable to stop your body’s response. His voice feels like it’s seeping directly into your skin, making it impossible to sit still.

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he orders so tenderly and impossible to refuse. “Slowly, sweetheart. Just run your fingers over those soft thighs of yours… don’t rush.”

You obey, hands traversing down the length of your torso until they’re at your thighs, fingertips grazing your skin lightly as you follow his instructions. Your breath hitches again, heart beating louder in your ears as his voice continues to weave around you, wrapping you in the intimacy of the moment.

“That’s it,” he purrs, “Let me hear those little gasps. I want you to think of my hands doing that for you. Think of me sliding my fingers up and down your beautiful body… teasing you.”

And so you do. You think of his larger, surely rougher touch at your inner thighs. The growing pressure at the apex of your legs builds with every syllable, but it’s not just his voice that has you derailing.

It’s everything. 

As the camera lingers on him, you watch his free hand move to the top button of his shirt. His fingers work with deliberate precision as he undoes it then the ones that follow. His movements are slow, taunting you as the shirt falls open, exposing the smooth, muscled lines of his chest.

“You want to see more, don’t you?” he asks the camera, and the teasing edge in his voice makes your clit twitch. “I’ll show you, baby. But you need to keep touching yourself for me. I want you to feel how wet I get you. Imagine me right there, taking care of that aching little cunt of yours.”

He’s intoxicating, and as he slips another button open, revealing more of his firm, toned chest, you slip your hand to your pussy, your body begging for more. You can almost feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way he’s undressing for you, the slow reveal of what you’re aching to see.

He’s unhurried, intentional— he knows exactly what he’s doing, how to keep you, the viewer, on edge.

“Let me hear you,” he commands, fingers grazing his buckle now, threatening to undo his belt. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me how badly you want me to touch you… how much you need me.”

His words have a gush of arousal leaking from your cunt, a whine pushing past your lips as you lightly run a finger down the seam of your folds.

“Need you so bad,” you murmur to yourself, not caring that there’s no one there to hear you, no one in the room but the phantom of his presence. He’s completely transported you into another world, and you’re too far gone to feel any shame in talking to him as if he’s right there in front of you— or over the phone with how he’s set this scene up.

All he’s done is talk, but it’s enough to render you a puddled mess. The heat licking at your core is undeniable, each instruction winding you tighter.

You can’t help but wonder— are you really this starved for a good fuck, or is this faceless stranger just that skilled at weaving desire into every syllable?

His deep, commanding tone oozes with intention, a carefully crafted tease that seeps through the screen. It’s clear he’s an expert at this— at knowing exactly how to pull you in and leave you aching for more. Now, your curiosity is piqued; what other sinful content could he possibly have on his page?

It suddenly makes perfect sense why your friend is subscribed to him. The moment you come, you know you’ll be rushing to make an account of your own, no hesitation, ready to drain your bank account if it means getting more of him— every cent worth it just to see what else he can do to you.

He’s catering to something raw, drawing out a fantasy you didn’t even realize you had.

“I need you just as bad. Real fuckin’ shame I’m stuck at the office… my cock misses you, sweetheart.”

Your breath quickens as the clink of his belt being undone echoes through the speaker, slipping the leather free from its loops, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of his dick, thick and prominent beneath the tailored slacks.

The sight sends a surge of heat through your body, your skin prickling with desire, yearning for more.

His fingers toy with the waistband of his pants now, brushing tantalizingly close to the bulge straining against the fabric, teasing both you and himself with the promise of what’s to come.

His voice is low and seductive, dripping like molten honey, each word striking you like a touch.

“I wish I could be in bed with you right now,” he grunts, and you swear you can feel his eyes locked on you through the screen, as if he can see every inch of your trembling body. “You have no idea how badly I want to worship you… feel your skin against mine. I’d start slow. My lips, my hands, they’d be everywhere. I’d make you come so many times it’d make you stupid.”

You moan, finally dipping two of your fingers between your wet folds and massaging at your clit, spreading your slick all over.

“Go head, play with that pretty little pussy. Use your other hand to touch on those perfect fuckin’ tits of yours.”

Your free hand instinctively goes up to cup your breast as you imagine him there with you, his body pressing you into the mattress, lips tracing over every inch until he’s suckling on your pert nipples then moving down to where you need him most.

“I want to taste you,” he continues, his fingers popping the button of his pants then the zipper, “Feel you quivering on my tongue, feel you melt on my fingers as I fuck them into that tight cunt. I won't stop until you’re shaking, begging me to let you breathe.”

His hand slips beneath the fabric as he shifts in his seat, and you can see the subtle movements of him touching himself. The sight alone takes your breath away, the need coiling inside you, growing unbearable as your own fingers pick up the pace, rubbing the sensitive flesh while your other hand works to pinch and tug at your nipple.

“And when I finally break you, sweetheart,” he whispers, sending shivers all throughout your body, “when you’re crying, trembling… pleading me to stop, that’s when I’ll slide my cock inside. You’d be so full, so wet, and I wouldn’t stop until I’ve reminded you who you belong to, until I’ve had you again and again. Until you’re stuffed so full of my cum that it’s leaking out of your fuckin’ mouth.”

He finally pulls his dick out and you gasp loudly. It’s fucking beautiful. Thick, long, a few shades lighter than the brown skin of his chest with a glistening pearl of precum right at his slit. He spreads it around the crown of his cock and you salivate, imagining how good the weight of him would feel on your tongue.

Yummy in-fucking-deed.

“Fuck yourself on your fingers baby, then stick two into your pretty mouth and suck on them.”

You do as you’re told, sinking two into your fluttering entrance while the ones at your tit slip into your mouth, eyes fluttering close as you suck on them like they’re his cock. It feels so good, your thumb pressed up against your clit— the stickiness of your arousal aiding your fingers in pumping in and out of you.

The sound of him spitting snaps you from the mini daze, pulling your attention lazily back to the screen. There he is— his large hand wrapped tightly around the thick length of his cock, glistening and throbbing as he begins to stroke it languidly. 

“Got me so hard,” he grunts, his voice thick with lust, “just picturing you with your fingers in your mouth like a good little slut.” His grip on the phone by his ear tightens, you can tell by the way his knuckles become flushed and you whimper.

“Choke on them,” he growls, “Let me hear you gag.”

Obedient as ever, you push your digits past your tongue and deeper, your breath growing ragged. The moment they hit the back of your throat, you gag, the wet sound loud and raw in the quiet of your apartment.

You sputter around them repeatedly, eyes filling with tears. Choking sounds echoing off the walls, bouncing back at you in a symphony of depravity. Saliva pools in then out of your mouth, dripping down your chin, and the mess of it only heightens the filthy pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel how slick you are, the sheets beneath you now damp from your horniness, every fiber of your being aching for release.

His pace on the screen quickens, the sound of his bated breath mingles with the obscene smacking of his fist against the skin of his cock, grunting between strokes. His dick looks even bigger as it pulses in his grip, thick and veined and covered in his spit.

“Bet you’re dripping for me,” his words are strained. “I can just picture it… how wet you are, soaking those sheets. Can’t wait to hear you come undone for me, baby.”

Your fingers, still wet from the mess of your mouth, slide down your body, grazing over your hard nipples before switching with the ones between your legs, where your pussy is throbbing. You moan at your own heady taste, the relief of your saliva soaked digits in your cunt almost overwhelming.

The tension builds, every stroke of his hand matching the movement of your fingers, the friction pushing you closer to the edge.

“Ahhh yesyesyes— just like that.” You whine, removing your fingers from your mouth and bringing them down to your nipples again to pinch and pull; anything to heighten the already intense pleasure you’re feeling.

The room feels thick with sexual tension, the filthy sounds of your wetness mix with his groans through the speakers, creating an intoxicating melody that pushes you further into your own climax.

“I’d have your pussy stretched out so good,” he continues, hand tightening around his cock as he pumps faster now, thrusting his hips upwards. “Have you feeling me for days… filling your sweet cunt until all you can do is squirt all over this cock.”

The things you’d do to make that happen. To have him bend and twist and fuck you in a myriad of pleasurable positions. To feel the thickness of his dick leaving you sore and hurting, absolutely helpless. These desires send you careening toward the edge.

“C’mon baby, give it to me.”

Your fingers move faster, abusing your cunt as your hips buck into your hand. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps as your whole body tightens.

You can feel it coming, that sweet rush of pleasure towering over you, until it crashes down in a wave so intense, you cry out.

“Oh fuck!”

You spasm, back arching off the bed as your digits do all the right moves, chasing the high. In a flood of pure ecstasy, your pussy pulses and clenches, a gush of wetness soaking the sheets as you come hard, giving in to the overwhelming euphoria.

Drool leaks from your mouth like a feral animal, your chest heaving, and your eyes lock on the screen, pupils dilated, watching as he strokes himself through his own climax, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his cock twitching in his hand, thick ropes of his milky cum spilling over his fist as he finishes. “Made a mess all over my lap. Wish you were here to lick it up. Getting to feel that wicked tongue of yours on my spent cock would be like fucking heaven, mi muñeca bella.”

Just when you thought he couldn’t get any fucking sexier; he goes and speaks fucking Spanish. You’re in love. 

You’re left exhausted, trembling, and utterly satisfied. Your body hums with the aftershocks, still riding the wave of your orgasm, and all you can do is lie there. 

Your fingers lazily tracing the wet mess between your thighs, hissing at the sensitivity, as you catch your breath, the screen flickering with his smirking lips.

“I’ll be home soon,” he purrs, “Take a nap so I can wake you up by burying my tongue inside that used pussy.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you let out a frustrated sigh, wishing— desperately— that this wasn’t just a video, but reality. A real call from a real man, someone who could be on their way to you right now. You stare at his disheveled, post-climax appearance on the screen for a moment longer before the video fades out, the last remnants of fantasy slowly dissolving as you blink yourself back to reality.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, muscles still quivering, and bend down to pick up your slip dress, your legs wobbly as you walk to the bathroom to clean up. 

oh my fucking god that was amazing

You text your friend once you’re back in bed, having pulled off the loose sheet that you ruined and thankful that it didn’t seep through to the fitted one.

right? i need him so bad you should see some of his other stuff. fucking gold you’re welcome 💋

You scoff, a breathy laugh, as you ‘HAHA’ react to her message. Still, her words stick with you as you open the browser, logging out of her account. The curiosity from before tugs at you harder than ever now, and without a second thought, you find yourself signing up for your own subscription.

When the prompt to choose a username appears, you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard until a sly smile spreads across your lips.

@muneca_bella

Perfect.

[emisreadingstuff]

pixel man <3

[emisreadingstuff]

walk the line || one shot

masterlist | ao3

pairing: boston qz!joel x f!reader summary: you and joel have a deal: sex in exchange for supplies. no questions asked. so what happens when you do? or joel fucks you while you’re in a headlock. that’s pretty much it. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: boston qz era, undefined relationship, mentions of sexual favors, choking, rough unprotected p in v sex, dark!joel, mean!joel [in the sense that he doesn’t let her come oops :( ], dubcon [reader tries to loosen his grip], noncon [i’m putting this here just in case], no aftercare. think that’s it. word count: 1.2k

a/n: just….don’t ask. i don’t know what this is. thank you to @papurgaatika for holding a gun to my head so i would post this looking this over, love you schmooks <3 

please heed the tags. protect your peace if this isn’t for you.

He’s being rough. Rougher than the countless times he’s fucked you before. 

In the time since you and Joel started this whole arrangement, you never needed to tell him to fuck you at a blistering pace. He just did it. 

Because you and him are the same. He told you that once. He said that you and him are two sides of the same coin. Both of you are always keeping your walls up and people out. Always keeping everyone at arm’s length. It made this arrangement easy, simple. 

There was just one rule: Nothing personal. A rule you happily got on board with. Getting personal is not really your thing. You learned that it was easier to survive at the end of the world without having someone to care about. Staying detached worked for you. You didn’t care enough about Joel Miller to even bother giving him a second thought. 

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe. 

A few minutes ago, you made the mistake of doing just that. 

You got personal. Flicked open the glass casing and pushed the big red button. Nobody gets personal with Joel Miller. Most importantly, you don’t. No. Never you. And now he’s punishing you. Maybe he’s punishing himself too, because he didn’t stop you. Didn’t stop this.

He’s being brutal, intense, and mean. And usually you could handle it because, like plenty of times before, you wanted him to.

But this time, you didn’t.

Your cunt is sensitive, and it hurts; it burns more and more with every rough snap of his hips; warm liquid pricks at your eyes in discontent. Your swollen cunt betrays you, squeezes around his wide girth, and he grunts against the shell of your ear in response. You’re sure he thinks you're begging him for more. To him, the swift flutter of your cunt is a silent tell to pick up the pace. 

And he does. Relentlessly. 

With every unforgiving thrust of his hips, knocking the wind out of your lungs, and the firm hold of his forearm against your neck, compressing your throat, you were barely hanging on. Black spots spatter across your vision, and your eyes slip closed; tears of anguish streak down your cheeks.

It’s too much. You choke on a sob, and your hand comes up to his left arm, weakly tugging at it, attempting to make space between the crook of his elbow and your neck to suck in an ephemeral breath of air. 

Instead, he tightens his grip on you; his left arm pulls you into his chest, and his right hand moves heavily to the top of your head as he brutally fucks up into your throbbing hole. Your head dips back beneath his chin, and the crown of your skull stings as the plastic clip hanging out at the bottom of the valve of his gas mask digs into your scalp.

Your failure to follow his rule — his only rule — had pissed him off so immensely that he didn’t even waste a second to remove his mask.

His muffled voice cuts through the thick haze that took over your mind. “Stay,” he orders through gritted teeth, and you obey.

Because he’s teaching you a lesson.

With him, you mind your tongue.

With him, you do as you're told. 

With him, you don’t ask questions.

With him, you don’t get fucking personal. 

And with your head locked between both of his strong arms and his fat cock hammering your cunt, punching at your cervix — forcing himself in — he makes certain of that. Makes your mind go fucking blank. Because when your sloppy cunt is stuffed full of his cock, your mind goes fuzzy, and your body goes limp in his hold, you are in no position to question him. To pry. To challenge him. To fight him. A brutal, shattering reminder that Joel Miller calls the shots.

And Joel doesn’t say a word. Not this time. Not when he’s using your body as a way to cope with his anger — to get himself off. It’s all breathless groans and grunts that tell you your holes are enough to satisfy him. And for a moment, you can’t help but wonder if this is how he always saw you — a means to an end.

Maybe you felt the same way about him.

You don’t have time to dwell on it because then you feel it — he twitches inside your aching cunt, signaling his rapid release. He hisses as he pulls out of your wasted hole, his length bobs against the crease beneath your ass, smearing your sweaty skin with your mixed wet. His cock throbs against you as his seed spills onto your quivering legs, coating your inner thighs, and leaking onto the tattered, moth-eaten mattress. 

You whimper pathetically as his arms release you, and your shuddering form falls forward, crashing into the dusty mattress beneath you. Your chest heaves as your hand comes up to the column of your neck, your weak fingers pressing at the sharp, searing pang there. You don’t doubt your skin has already begun to smart. You cough profusely as your lungs fill with air, a humiliating attempt at catching your breath. 

Joel’s left hand comes down beside your head on the mattress, cushioning his fall as he hovers over you. He groans as his other hand replaces your cunt, and with every fast, wet pump of his fist, the pulsing tip bumps against your skin; his release now paints the small of your back.

A first. 

And in the back of your mind, you try telling yourself it’s his way of claiming you — that he still wants you after you stepped out of line. Your stomach lurches at the same time your cunt flutters at the thought. You’re not sure how you feel about it, but you do know you feel empty without him inside you. And other than what happened here, he typically makes you feel good. Leaves you satisfied before he chases his own release.

Today, he didn’t. He used your body as a means for punishment, and you let him. A penance. For crossing the line he told — you both agreed not to overstep. 

A few moments later, you’re pulling your distressed jeans over your cum-coated thighs while your glassy eyes watch Joel as he zips up his own, his eyes fixed on the molded wooden floor in front. “Joel,” your voice hoarse and raw. 

He peers up at you beneath his lashes, the sunlight clawing through the taped-up window catches on his eyes; the amber in his hazel irises glowering in the light. 

“It won’t happen again,” you whisper.

“No,” he leans forward, grabs his gas mask you didn’t notice he pulled off, and the orange pill bottle you were meant to deliver to him without sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, and he grunts while he moves to stand, “it won’t.” 

And only when his heavy footsteps fade down the dark hallway of the abandoned building on the outskirts of the QZ, leaving you alone to stare back at the pale, rotten wallpaper with a painful and pleading ache between your trembling legs, do you realize exactly why no one defies Joel fucking Miller.

[emisreadingstuff]

Javier Peña x f!reader || 440 words

Summary: you shave Javi | Tw: 18+ mdni, smut

@iamasaddie @milla-frenchy this is all your fault, my loves😌

*****

You peek into the bathroom and find Javi shaving. He doesn’t notice you, fully concentrated on lathering his jaw, eyes fixed on the reflection, so you use this moment to watch him. The way he’s gliding the foamy brush over his cheeks and chin mesmerizes you. He’s devastatingly handsome even with his face coated in soap.

When Javi picks up a razor, you wake up from the trance and exclaim,

“Can I?”

Javi jerks and curses and you immediately regret the way you’ve revealed yourself.

“Baby, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” You pad closer to him with an apologetic smile and his gaze slides up and down your body, covered only by his white linen shirt. His face softens.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“Morning,” you purr. “Can I help?”

“Want to shave me?” He asks, his eyebrows raised.

You nod and the man’s gaze darkens.

***

That’s how you end up straddling Javi while he’s sitting on a stool by the sink.

He has convinced you that it’s the best way to do the task, with you being shorter, the position gives you the best access to his face.

You’re chewing on your lower lip in concentration, brows furrowed, carefully running the razor over his sharp jaw, taking the foam off his golden skin. You’re barely breathing, afraid to cut him, to hurt him, to do a poor job.

You glance up at his eyes and find them dark and completely focused on your face.

Javi gives you a wink and you smile at him.

“Don’t stare,” you whisper.

“Can’t help it.”

You shake your head still smiling and slightly turn to rinse the razor in the sink.

When you return to work, Javi’s warm hands, splayed on your naked asscheeks, squeeze your soft flesh and your breath hitches.

“Javi,” you whine and it only seems to entice the man. It gets impossible to keep your hand from trembling, when he bucks his hips and buries his cock deeper into your weeping pussy, his stiffness deliciously massages your walls, the tip gently kisses your cervix.

A needy moan flies from your open mouth, Javi’s low grunt soon follows it.

“Keep going, baby. Still have my left cheek to do.”

You rest the hand with the razor on the man’s broad shoulder to take a moment to calm down. But who are you kidding? There’s no way you can continue, with your pussy crying around his big cock, staining his gray sweatpants.

“Sorry, but you’ll have to finish it yourself,” you mumble, when your self-control crumbles. The razor flies into the sink and you lift your hips, before sinking back on Javi’s throbbing cock.

tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

[emisreadingstuff]

FWB!JAVIER PEÑA Virgo • ISTJ • Chain smoker • Leather, amber, tobacco and coffee bean scents • Adept at horse riding • Likes to go fishing with his pop • Is a good listener. Will often just cuddle you when you've had a bad day and talk it over with you • A little obsessive with cleaning and organisation. His apartment is the neatest and cleanest you've ever seen for a man • Also a complete germaphobe. Once mistook his hand sanitiser for lube • Will show up at your place with his truck, some beers and will take you for a drive to spend the day with you, discovering somewhere new on a whim • Terrible cook. Don't even let him try • Will bring you to his family gatherings but will always introduce you as his "best friend," despite sneaking off with you for kisses and hot fumbles. (They're all convinced he's utterly in love with you because he never, ever brings anyone else) • If he doesn't have at least 3 cups of coffee in the morning, then his day is going to be shit • Keeps a toothbrush, razor and a spare Beretta at your place • Rarely wears underwear; you've only ever seen one pair mixed in with your laundry and they were tiny tighty whities • Although he’ll never admit it, he's hooked on telenovelas. He knows all the plot twists and can’t resist catching up on the latest drama whenever he has downtime. Gets annoyed if you talk during them too • He loves spicy food but can't handle it well. You refuse to let him sleep over when he eats it, especially after the state he left your bathroom in the last time • He has a good luck charm that he always keeps on him during dangerous missions, believing it keeps him safe. It's a plastic yellow token from the time you both went to the carnival together, and the first night you kissed • Takes his moustache grooming very seriously • Loathes karaoke with every fibre of his being. Except when he's incredibly drunk • Is a master at couponing. He has a binder full of meticulously organized coupons and takes pride in getting groceries at absurdly low prices, and berates you for wasting money and not doing the same • Can solve a Rubik's Cube in under a minute, and is a smug bastard about it too • Won Laredo's "Best Junior Line Dancer" three years in a row when he was in his early teens. Denies it vehemently whenever you dig out the old photos of him accepting the trophy • Overly dramatic and loud when he sneezes • Spends hours on the telephone to his tiá once a week and they gossip together like two old ladies. Secretly loves the fact she calls him her favourite of all the nephews and nieces • Can't keep a plant alive. You wouldn't trust him with an animal either • Loves a fleas market - it's how he decorated his apartment and where he found his sex afghan • Vain about his hair and carries a comb with him at all times in his pocket. He’s constantly checking his reflection in any available surface • He let you wear his leather jacket home once and almost combusted at how good it looked on you. Didn't wash it for weeks after as he could still smell you on it • Terrible at texting back, often leaves you on read for days • Awful at wrapping gifts. It once took you almost 20 minutes to get into your birthday gift with the amount of tape he used • Will paint your toe nails for you when you watch TV together - he's actually pretty good at it • Sleeps on the left side of the bed • Always the big spoon and doesn't let go all night • Will wrap himself in your silk robe when getting up during the night for water or to use the bathroom when it's cold. Will keep it on sometimes too when you both get frisky - loves it when you tie his wrists together with the belt • He absolutely loves kissing you during sex, no matter what position you're in, he always wants to kiss you before, during and after. And he's hella good at it too. 🖤

BOYFRIEND VIBES MASTERLIST | JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

[emisreadingstuff]

I can't stop thinking about reader being an overworked secretary, always so uptight, on the edge and Javi teases and mocks her about it all the time, is slightly mean, making the days insufferable for her until one day she breaks for him and Javi pounds all that stress out of her until she cries ♡

your beautiful mind, anon. i hope you enjoy this 🖤

tags: unprotected p in v sex, semi public sex (parking garage), dirty talk, javier has a big dick, hate fuck kind of, era typical sexism/misogyny, dubcon, no use of y/n, reader doesn't like javi at all but that doesn't stop her from fucking him, crying during sex, javi's cuffs make an appearance, unbeta'd, if i missed anything let me know thx. ~ 2k w/c

You’ve had it. Swear to god, if you have to sit in this uncomfortable chair, type up some useless report, or fetch another goddamn cup of coffee— you might just explode. 

Get an office job, they said. Secretarial work is easy and less fast paced than what you’re used to. So how come you haven’t seen a day of peace since you started working here?

Every agent in the office sees you as nothing more than the eye candy that gets the signatures they need for their dick measuring contest-esque operations. They don’t take you seriously, they flirt as if HR doesn’t exist, and worst of all— they patronize you like your head is full of air. Like there’s nothing between your ears.

Snickering behind your back, hushed whispers and tapered conversations when you enter the room, purposefully dropping things by your desk just to watch you bend over to pick them up.

The only one that treats you somewhat like a normal human being is Steve Murphy, and that’s only because he’s married. But even then, he barely keeps his colleagues from fucking with you.

Especially his partner— Javier Peña, whose reputation preceded him. You were getting warnings about the agent before you even touched down in Colombia. His affinity to fuck anything in a skirt. The unorthodox practices he indulged to gather intel. A playboy. A womanizer. How the fuck he manages to not get fired is beyond you, really. 

Especially with all the sexual harassment workshops that the office has to endure. Now you’re wondering if there’s so many of them because the asshole with the mustache can’t keep his hands to himself.

He’s no better than the rest of them, either. The flirting to get his paperwork further up the chain, asking you to go out for drinks after work, in which you decline because you’d rather be caught dead than tipsy enough to take a ride on the Peña express, chastising how ‘uptight’ you are and offering to help you relieve some of that stress.

My stress stems from assholes like you— the ones that treat women like sexual objects rather than people.

No matter how handsome or suave he is; the man is dick and apparently you rejecting his advances multiple times does nothing but fuel him to stay persistent.

Which blows your mind. You’ve seen the informants that stop by to ask for him, the women that approach him at office parties— he’s a total babe magnet. Why does he waste his efforts on you— the secretary?

You let out a frustrated groan, not giving a fuck if you get written up for leaving early today. It’s Friday, the office is dead, and if you’re approached one more time by any of these arrogant, good for nothing agents; you will get mouthy and possibly even land a bitch slap.

The gag is, you’re usually good under pressure… something about being surrounded by men like them all day just frayed your nerves like no other.

Gathering your things, you damn near book it down the hall, then elevator, until you’re in the parking garage and fumbling for your keys.

You’re so honed in on getting the fuck out of there that you don’t notice that not one— but two of your tires are as flat as pancakes and that, unfortunatley, is what tips you over the edge.

“God fucking damn it. Fuck this car, fuck this place, fuck everyone in this stupid,” you kick the tire, “fucking,” another kick, “building.” The last kick is misplaced and your toe digs uncomfortably into the pointed tip of your heel which has you cursing the heavens even more and bringing exasperated tears to your eyes.

Will you ever catch a fucking break?

And it’s like the universe is having a good ‘ol laugh, probably because you’ve just cussed it out, because a familiar jeep rolls by— being driven by the aviator wearing, habitually unbuttoned shirt adorning, smug jerk that is the root of your frustrations.

“Having car problems, nena?” He speaks to you from the rolled down window, perpetual smirk on his pouty lips as he eyes your flat tires then your rigid figure.

“Fuck off, Javier.” You turn from him, not wanting for the tears in your eyes to be noticed; but again, this motherfucker is persistent if anything, and he parks in the empty spot next to yours, cutting the engine and hopping out to join you.

“There’s that dazzling attitude. Things like this wouldn’t happen if you just smiled every now and again.”

Your hands curl into fists, sharply turning to face him, your face hot.

“Why the fuck do you always have to do that? Huh? You and everyone else— treating me like I’m beneath all of you—”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re beneath—”

“Oh my god, shut up!” You exclaim, chest heaving, “I can’t even fucking talk without getting cut off. Nothing I say or do matters to any of you pricks. Not unless I’m bent over, picking your shit off the floor or running around like a headless chicken fulfilling your coffee orders. The weaponized incompetence, t-the unwanted advances; I’m more than that— more than anything you all think I am. I hate this fucking job, I hate all you government assholes and I’m half tempted to quit but I can’t because I’m stuck here!”

You hadn’t noticed how close you two had gotten during your outburst, standing toe to toe with him. His brows pull into a frown, lips turned downward beneath his stache as he turns over your words.

“You really need to get laid.”

You snap, you do. Your fist coming up to sock him square in the jaw, which surprises him but you don’t stop. Landing blows wherever you can, kicking him repeatedly.

Javier lets you get a few hits in before he exerts his strength and grabs your wrists, dragging you over to his jeep and pressing your chest flat against the cool surface, the force of it leaving you breathless.

“Let go of me!” You squirm in his grasp but all he does is tighten his grip on you.

You don’t know if it’s because emotions are high and there is some truth to his words, but you feel the static of arousal at the base of your spine, your thighs tensing at the position in which he has you in.

“You know how to land a punch. Should get you out into the field. Maybe some excursion would calm you the fuck down.”

With both your wrists in one of his large palms, he uses the other to grab his cuffs and you don’t realize it until you’re restrained and your eyes widen.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing—”

“I’m giving you what you need, sweetheart.” His statement is laden with suggestion, tinged with lust. You look around the empty parking lot and how convenient that you’re both parked way in the corner, far from the elevator or any wandering eyes.

This is a bad idea. What you’ve been actively avoiding since you started. But fuck, are you pissed off and tired and you won’t lie— there is some appeal to getting your brain screwed out of your head after being screwed day after day in the office. 

Your resolve drops and you turn off your logical thinking, giving yourself over to Javier completely. 

“Then give it to me before I change my mind.”

Those words spur him into action, gun calloused hands bunching your skirt up around your waist, ripping your stockings and you gasp, heart beating wildly in your chest. His fingers work themselves into your panties, dragging along the wet seam of your cunt and your forehead falls against the exterior of his car, eyes fluttering close at how good it feels.

“So wet. Knew this little pussy needed to be taken care of. Don’t worry, reina, I’m going to make you feel so good,” he rubs your clit in slow, tight circles and you bite your lip. “Make you feel appreciated.”

Spreading your wetness, he slips two of his thick fingers into your tight cunt and you moan out his name, feeling so full. Much better than when you do it on your own.

He fucks you with his fingers, pressing himself fully against you and you can feel his hard bulge digging into the small of your back and that only heightens your arousal. His surprisingly soft lips are kissing along the back of your neck before he’s licking at your ear lobe, whispering how good you feel clenching around his fingers.

You come undone in record time, whimpers spilling past your lips and you’re not usually one to enjoy the fingering aspect of foreplay but goddamn— Javier is good. You can at least confirm that half the rumors about him are true.

It all happens so fast after that, him kicking your legs to spread wider, tugging your panties down to your thighs before he’s undoing his belt, releasing his hard cock from those tight jeans, spitting into his hand and using the mix of your release and his saliva to lube him up as he strokes himself one, two times before he’s lining himself up at your weeping entrance.

Your forehead remains pressed to the car, pussy fluttering in anticipation of being filled by a man you can’t stand.

He feeds you his cock in one swift motion, causing you to jerk forward and yelp loudly, the stretch of him inside your tight cunt burns as much as your hatred for him.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes as he begins to set a deliciously brutal pace. His hips snap against the back of your thighs, the flesh of your ass rippling with each thrust.

“Puta madre, nena, this pussy is so fucking tight.” He grits through clenched teeth, fingers digging into your waist, fucking you so good that you’ve lost your ability to speak.

All that flows from you are needy moans and broken sobs. The obscene sound of your pussy squelching, skin meeting skin, echoes through the parking garage and you forget how exposed to the public you are but you really can’t bring yourself to care at the moment; not with how good this man is giving it to you.

Your needy pussy takes and takes, walls pulsating around his thick cock— each time she spits him out, the creamy evidence of your arousal smears all over his shaft and this has him smirking, large palm coming down to spank you.

“Fuckin’ creaming all over me, baby. Knew you wanted this. Needed it so bad. This dick is gonna calm you down, won’t have you acting like such an uptight bitch anymore.” 

You gasp, both at his words and the sting from the spank, eyes snapping open as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder to the best of your ability, shooting him the best disdainful glare you can muster despite being rendered damn near immobile by his big dick.

“F-Fuck off,” though the bite in your words is fucking toothless as your legs tremble and your orgasm begins to sneak up on you, starting at your neglected clit which is pulsating— begging to be played with.

As if reading your fucking mind, he slips one hand around you, pinching the raw flesh between his thumb and pointer fingers, rolling it around, causing your hips to inadvertently snap back against him.

“Oh, you like that. Can feel how good she’s grippin’ me when I play with your pretty little clit. You gonna come all over me, muñeca?”

His lips are at your ear, spitting more filth out and those tears from before have messed your eyeliner and mascara up, dark streaks painting your cheeks. Your head falls back against his shoulder, the entire world around you looking like a hazy filter has been applied over it as you succumb to the orgasm being given to you by none other than Javier Peña.

“J-Javi I’m gonna…” he continues to toy with your clit, cock pistoning into you even harder as his other hand leaves your hips and moves up to wrap itself around your throat.

“That’s right baby, let loose for me, sweetheart.”

He tightens his grip around your neck at the same time that he delivers a harsh slap to your pussy which has you screaming his name, the walls of your cunt squeezing his cock as your cum coats the velvety skin of him. He grunts in your ear, fucking you through your climax before he pulls out and tugs at his dick, spurts of his milky spend landing across the soft skin of your ass.

You’re both left a panting, heaving mess. Sweat mixes with your tears, your poor pussy swollen and sensitive, feeling his warm cum dripping down from your round cheeks to the back of your thighs. 

“Uncuff me.” You demand, not wanting to drown in the euphoria of how he’s just made you feel, opting for that post nut clarity that grounds you back to the shitty situation that led to these coital activities. 

He scoffs, “Just got fucked stupid and you’re back to being like this.” He tucks himself back into his pants, reaching for the keys to the cuffs and releasing you from them.

You rub at your wrists, taking your panties off and using them to clean your mixed release off you as best as you can. “It’s almost like good dick wasn’t the key to fixing all my problems. Who would have thought?” You quip sarcastically, using the back of your hand to wipe away the tears and ruined makeup, knowing you look like a goddamn mess right now.

You take your ruined stockings off and fix your skirt, really not wanting to do the walk of shame by going back to the office to call someone to help you out with your tire problem, but you must.

“How are you getting home?” He asks, running his fingers through his hair, standing almost awkwardly before you and you narrow your eyes.

“None of your business.” You state, pushing past him to grab your purse and keys, talking yourself up to march back to your desk and call for a mechanic.

“Let me help,” he offers and you chuckle dryly. 

“You’ve done more than enough. No thanks.” You begin to walk past him and towards the elevator but he stops you by grabbing you by your forearm.

“I’m serious. It’s the least I can do.” His eyes soften, and it’s in this moment that you realize how warm they are. A beautiful shade of brown, the shape of a baby cow’s with dainty lashes that compliment them perfectly.

Nu-uh, snap out of it. This is how you get hooked.

“No, the least you can do is leave me the fuck alone, Javier. You got what you wanted.” You snatch your arm back, glaring at him, before strutting off back into the building. 

[emisreadingstuff]

thinking about stripper reader with old man logan.

he came in every week or so — disheveled outfit and hair. he was older, sure — but not in the way most men his age looked. no — the years didn’t wear on him, but whatever he did that day did. his wrinkles weren’t deep, but the bags under his eyes were. his smile lines weren’t permanent, but the distant look in his eyes was. his bones didn’t crack because they were old, but because they were under too much stress. you couldn’t help it — you wanted to take that pain away.

no one wanted to approach him because he seemed to keep to himself — worried he was a creep or something. he was quiet, too — only speaking when he ordered a drink or another after that. he replied in nods or shakes of the head, and his eyes were always on the stage. despite the fact that he tipped well — no one bit.

you were feeling brave that day when you approached him. you kept it simple — black lace teddy, black lace thong, and black heels. hair bouncy with light makeup, hoping to keep the star of the show your eyes and smile. you knew he could see you out of the corner of his eye, and it threatened your confidence — but he had peaked your interest for too long for you to toss and stumble now.

“hey, handsome,” you spoke, keeping your tone light. “need another?”

he didn’t cock his head towards you, keeping his gaze in front. he swirled the small sip of whisky left in his glass, appearing to contemplate your question. after a moment, he responded, “dancers don’t take drink orders, darlin’.”

“no,” you spoke, laughing slightly. you bent at the hips, hoping to be lower than his eye line. “but they don’t when they give private dances — interested?”

“no, thanks.”

his voice was final — and even though you were disappointed, you didn’t want to push it. you stood then, taking a step back. “okay — i’ll send a waitress over.”

after working the room — it was your turn to take one of the side stages. you had your pick of which — but you decided to keep it as far away from the man as possible. if he didn’t want to be bothered, who were you to threaten a good tip? curiosity would not be killing the cat tonight — especially not when there was more money to be made.

a few men had gathered during your set, throwing a few dollar bills here and there as you swung your hips to the music. you had switched into a falls cowboys cheerleader outfit — white shorts, blue top, and white bra. cliche and overdone, but by the look of your tips — you couldn’t care less.

you also couldn’t care less when you noticed a set of eyes on you — the man’s.

he was unashamed in the way he stared at you. he had gotten another round at some point — but wasn’t drinking any of the contents. he simply gripped it tight as he stared at your swaying hips and perfect curves. you bit your lip at the thought of him regretting turning you away, the confidence intoxicating you. before the song ended, you made sure to lock eyes with him — letting you know that this was your stage and your body he was silently and secretly drooling over. when you sent a cheeky wink his way, he shook his head — downing his glass in an instant. you smiled when he stood from his seat, immediately darting for the “vip” lounge in the back that proudly boasted a sign that read “private dances.”

when you made your way into the back room, you were told that a certain someone had specially asked for you. once you made your way back there, you found what you were looking for.

“make me feel young again, darlin’.”

you couldn’t help but smile. he didn’t say it in an insecure way, but in a way that suggested that his day had been too long and too tiring.

“tell me how you like it?”

he didn’t say anything — he just watched you. his eyes never left yours as you flung off your top, exposing your breasts. he drank his entire glass of whisky before you had planted yourself on his thighs. the flesh of your ass was like to pillows, fit for his large hands. he didn’t touch you — but by how hard he gulped, you could tell he wanted to.

“touch me, sugar,” you whispered. “i won’t tell.”

there was hesitation in his eyes, but soon his gaze darkened. restraint had fallen through the cracks, gone and forgotten. was a shame he had already paid for the dance — you would’ve fucked him for free.

now it was time to make it worth his while.

the man beneath you ground your round hips down into his pelvis, groaning at the friction. he hadn’t seen peace or pleasure since never, but it held his facial feature hostage as his nostrils picked up on the scent of your arousal. warm, tangy juices that leaked through the lace in your panties onto the denim of his jeans.

“take off your pants,” you breathed. “i’ll remind you how young you are — if you promise you’ll show me the skill that only comes with age.”

he had you bent over the table, hands behind your back held by his belt. he planted two heavy feet next to each of your ankles, keeping your legs spread and ready for him. his thrusts were hard against the back of your hips as you only had the table’s edge to support you. you felt him repeatedly hit your cervix, wincing at the aggression.

“that’s not the spot, huh, darlin’?” he spat.

you stayed silent — wanting to see how he reacted.

“i can feel it — resistance,” he grunted. “that sweet pussy needs more, doesn’t she?”

his hard, calloused hands rotated your hips so the tip of his cock repeatedly began to smack into the softest and gummiest part of your inner walls. a moan ripped through you like no other — your back arching upwards as your hips desperately tried to meet his thrusts.

“there it is — that’s it, darlin’. come on, fight back.” you could feel the rough skin of his finger tips dig up and into your pelvis, welcoming the pressure. one of his hands moved underneath you — hauling your hips upwards — pressing against your lower abdomen. he could feel the outline of his cock fucking into your womb, stuffing you full. “i can feel how deep your takin’ it, darlin’ — pussy so greedy, ain’t she? — always wantin’ more? those young boys just ain’ it? i’ll take care of her, darlin’…”

you were a whining mess beneath him — practically incoherent. he could hear, smell, feel, taste everything you were feeling. he had every part of you in his hands — completely vulnerable to his mercy and touch. and when your hips started to shake — fighting with him and against him — all he could do was force them down as you took his cock. you whined and whine and whinedwhinedwhined for more until the glam makeup began to melt off your face.

the man watched as your body shook for him — him and only him. you found his wrist, holding onto it for dear life as you tired to anchor yourself. the pleasure was too much, causing your head to spin. you could feel the man rub the skin of your ass tenderly, coaxing you into your orgasm. your womb bloomed for him, wanting to suck him dry and never let him go. his groans were animalistic, filling the room as you begged him to fill your pussy. he smacked your ass once, twice, thrice before he pulled out and painted your back with his cum.

once he pulled out, you were still on your stomach on the table as you tried to catch your breath. he bent down to meet your eyes — a youthful glow on his face — before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“you just ruined men my own age for me.”

“get your things, doll — takin’ you away from here.”

———

depravity - L xoxo lmk what u think ;)

[emisreadingstuff]

#his smile 🥰

PEDRO PASCAL in Lisboa, Portugal | via smellyoldsockss

[emisreadingstuff]

JAVIER PEÑA’S HOTTEST MOMENTS

40. 53/139 votes → Javi quitting the DEA and exposing the political corruption

[emisreadingstuff]

I’m glad celebrities are setting limits on fan interactions, the belief that you are entitled to a picture or an interaction just because you see someone in public needs to die.

Frankly I was starting to wonder if he ever stopped people from bothering him.

[emisreadingstuff]

SABRINA CARPENTER and JENNA ORTEGA "Taste" Music Video

[emisreadingstuff]

i'm so in love with this omg !!! <3

a guide to dating in twenty first century

you met a kind stranger at a bar, next day you ended up on his couch, on your first date…

warnings: implied age gap, hints of abusive relationships (not by joel or reader), hint of dom!joel, no outbreak, usage of pet name(baby), lots of alcohol consumption, can be considered as dubcon but consent is asked and given, mention of food, swearing, talking about marriage, smut (18+), fingering (f receiving), reader is afab and able bodied, she has some hair.

a/n: here it is folks, my first joel miller fic. please give comments/reblogs if you like it.

part i: the ‘first’ date

The song had just started when you entered the garden side of the bar. A rock classic filling the place, still laudable through all the chattering.

Your eyes scanned the area, trying to find your friends. Just before you took out your phone to text, you saw a familiar back of the head turning towards you. 

“Hey!” Maggie raised her hand, she looked gigglier than usual. You have already told them to start without you so her being tipsy was understandable. You started walking towards their table, “You’re late!” She protested as you got in the earshot.

You pulled the only empty chair they reserved for you and hung your bag at the back. You greeted the rest of the table with a smile and a simple nod before sitting down. All of the girls already ordered their drinks, and half way down finishing the snacks.

“And you don’t wear a tiara or a bride sash!” You half-protested as you turned towards her. Acting like you were just a few minutes late, not like it took you extra half an hour to get ready mentally.

“Not my thing.” You chuckled, raised your hand in the air for a waiter to see you. Thinking you were ready to start drinking and catch up with the girls.

—

The first half of the night was good. You fake-smiled and joined the conversations about when is the best time to have a baby, and best place to have a honeymoon. All thanks to your little helper in a glass. As you were about to finish your second one, you felt like you reached your quota about non ending monogamy speeches.   

A girl turned towards you. She was a colleague of Maggie and you only saw her before once at some New Years party. Jen something? Or was it Jess? You were sure it started with J.

She asked as she leant towards you. “So? Who is going to be your plus one?” 

There it was, the question you waited for all night long. You were the maid of honor, also the only single girl in the table. Of course people were going to ask why you had no plus one. 

“Noone.” You explained in one word, playing with the straw inside your glass.

“Oh, really? Are you sure? You can't just go alone! If you want I can set you up with-” Maggie intertwined the conversation, placing her elbows on the table and her chin inside her palms. As she did, all the girls stopped talking again and all turned their heads to you.

“She is not interested Alice. I’ve even told her the only other person who is coming alone is my grandma, and that’s just because she’s a widow.”

“Well you never know. Maybe she’ll find her next true love from the groom’s side.” Maggie rolled her eyes as the rest of the table chuckled at your joke, returning to talk about what they were talking about before. Before Alice, not Jess nor Jen, could ask you something you put your hands on the table.

“Okay, I need to hit the ladies room first. Then we can talk about why I need to find a guy ASAP.” You said as you raised yourself from your seat.

The ladies room was occupied so you had to wait in line with another girl who seemed too drunk to stand on her own. Playing with her fingers, rocking back and forth in her place. "Do you have weed, or something like that?"

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. "No, sorry." The girl huffed and crossed her arms on her chest.

The door opened and the girl in front of you threw herself inside, not even waiting for the other girl to step out properly. You two shared a look, “What is her problem?”

You sighed as you got all alone resting your head on the wall to take a breath. You hated when people became all invested in your love life, or the lack of your love life in better words. 

You spent almost a year to recover from your shitty break up by going on even shittier dates, then you simply gave up. Not like you had too many admirers, since your life was usually spent between work and home.

As you were looking down, somebody’s shoes came into your point of view. The tips of the dark leather boots were pointing on the tips of your high heeled sandals.

“Hi.” You raised your head when you realized he was talking to you.

He was clearly older than you. Salt and pepper hair and a patchy beard and mustache. He seemed cute, and somehow it felt like you could trust him. Like he was over with his bullshitting phase which every guy on your age was into.

He dressed nicely, an old pair of jeans and a dark colored shirt tight enough to hint he was built. Broad shoulders and thick biceps, large colloused hands…

“Hi?” You spoke sooner than you preferred. Sound just one octave higher than it usuallt was.

“Uhm, I don’t wanna seem weird but I noticed ya and heard ya were single so I—” You smiled at the southern accent, it fit him nicely. 

“I don’t want to step over a line, and sorry again if this seems too brave… May I have your phone number?” 

Here it is…

“Oh, well…” You spoke, eyes going between the still occupied ladies room door and the table of your friends.

He raised his hands in the air, taking a step back. Pressing his lips together as he slowly gave you a nod. “I understand completely.”

You felt like someone stabbed you on your chest when your eyes found him back. He looked like a small puppy who got kicked.

What is the worst thing that could happen? You probably gone over many shitty scenarios already.

“Wait-“ You said as you looked at the door again. The girl was taking forever and sure she would not come out anytime soon.

He stopped, raising his eyebrows. Eyes sparkling with a little piece of hope, and you could not find the strength to break his heart in yourself.

“I’d be happy to give my phone number.” He smiled, taking out his phone from his back pocket, opening his keypad before giving it to you.

You quickly tapped your number and called yourself. Your phone buzzed inside your back pocket. As you took it out, its screen was screen flashing with an unsaved number, “Done.”

“I’m Joel, by the way.”

“Hi Joel.” And you gave him your name, the first time it sounded so natural to hear it from someone else.

Like she took it as a que, the girl finally stepped out leaving the light switched on. Joel pointed to the door with his chin, before taking a step back again. “I’ll text you.” He said before leaving.

When you made it back to your table, your drink was gone and so were some of the girls including the girl whose name starts with J. And you just felt a relief that she would not ask you anymore questions about your dating life.

“I thought you left.” Maggie said, finishing her fourth glass. 

“The girl before me took forever.” You explained as you put on your purse, preparing to leave with the rest of the gang. You scanned the room, hoping maybe you would see Joel somewhere in the corner. But all you saw was a guy eyeing you up and down, courtesy of wearing a skirt in the 21st century. 

“Do you want me to call you a cab as well?” You turned to Maggie, shaking your head.

“No. I will take the subway. It’s cheaper. I spent a good amount back there, my credit card deserves a break.” She chuckled as she gave you a kiss goodbye.

On your way back you saved Joel’s number in your contacts. Joel.

Plain and simple, because he was the first Joel you knew.

He hadn’t texted you by the time you made it to your place. You tried your best to not overthink it. Calling it a lucky shot if he remembered to text you the next morning, and focus on anything but him.

You put your phone back on your nightstand after checking it for the 1000th time. Hating for yourself how you always ended up as the person who waits.

On next day at 13:42 your phone buzzed with a message.

After spending the night wondering when he would text you back and trying to distract yourself from wondering…

Hi, it’s Joel Miller from last night. I got your number as you were waiting on line at Ophelia’s ladies room.

You smiled at the formality of the text message. It was probably better than ‘wasssuppp’ the guys around your age sent you.

You quickly started typing a reply. He was still online, you felt that was your lucky shot. Hoping would not wait for 12 hours again for a reply.

Even if he did, you would just give up and throw your phone out the window.

hi joel

You felt a weight was over your chest when you saw typing… under his name. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you saw his message.

How are you? Any signs of hangover?

just tired from last night.

we left the place at 2:24 AM.

That’s bad. I assumed you would leave later than us, so I didn’t want to text you in the morning and disturb you.

The us seemed more important to you than focusing on the fact that he only texted late because he cared.

Because he thought you could be tired, and he just did not want to disturb you late at night—

us?

Yeah, throw your senses out the window… Ask it away…

I was with my brother last night.

You felt shame because of your doubts. What would he say, his wife?

I wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner with me tonight?

I’m a nice cook :)

sure :)

is 19:30 good?

Yes it is. I’m sending you my location.

I can also send an Uber to pick you up.

no it’s fine. you don’t live far.

At exactly 19:33 you rang the doorbell. You fixed your top as you waited for him. It was cute and see through enough for a first date. You’ve also taken your pants showing your ass like a masterpiece from dry cleaners.

Lucky guy…

You didn’t tell Maggie or someone else that you were going on a date because you didn’t want them spiral this into something bigger than it was.

You felt the inside of your palms getting wetter. Your heartbeat sped up as each second he did not open the door.

Should you go back? Maybe you co—

He opened the door before you could gather your thoughts. Smiling when his eyes found you, leaning his head towards the door. “Hi.” He did not look nervous like you, he looked like it was just a Saturday night for him.

“Hi.” You said smiling back, and joined your hands in front of you. Feeling the muscles on your back relax as he opened the door wider for you and stepped inside.

“Welcome. Sorry it took me awhile to open the door, I was waiting for water to boil.” He explained as he closed the door and turned towards you.

You took a better look at the place once you were inside. It did not have much, seemed like he only purchased the necessary stuff. He did not have posters or painting decorating his walls like yours did, or a large bookshelf filled with books.

“You have a nice place.” You said as you followed his guide to kitchen.

He turned on his heels, looking at you. He was wearing a dark Pink Floyd tshirt and blue jeans. You could see his biceps peeking out from the sleeves. His hair was nicely done, beard was trimmed. He looked even better than you remembered.

“Oh thanks, I’ve just moved in here actually, wanted to be closer t’ city.” He said as he pulled your chair for you to sit. “Dinner will be around half an hour, do you want to have something to drink first?”

“Sure.” You said as you sat on the bar stool, watching him to come back with beers. When he closed the fridge door you noticed the only photo placed on it. The magnet was just some dark circle, and your fridge was decorated with cute and funny ones.

On the photo Joel was next to some guy and had his arm placed on his shoulder. The guy had a longer, combed back hair but shared Joel's love for mustaches.

They were both wearing black tux, and had a buttonhole. The guy’s was larger than Joel’s, so you thought it was probably from a wedding.

“Who is that?” You asked as you pointed on the photo. He looked over his shoulder.

“That’s Tommy, my little brother. It’s from his wedding day. 'was a few years ago.” He explained casually, taking a sip from his beer. “I was the bestman.”

“My friend is getting married in two weeks as well, I’m the maid of honor. We were having bacholerrette party the other night.” You felt a twist on your stomach as you spoke. A pressure on your shoulder getting heavier as you spoke. You tried your best not to frown, as you remembered what your ex told you.

You’re overwhelming, all your problems and your whines… All you do is talk talk talk—

“A few weeks later you may have one on your fridge with your friend as well.” You smiled at the thought. Not like there was a space left on your fridge for one more photo.

“Yeah I suppose. I hope we both look good in the photo as you guys do.”

“Hire a professional. That’s the secret. You cannot tell we were both hammered, thanks to the guy.” He admitted and you both laughed at that. You felt lighter as he joked and asked you questions. The knots in your stomach getting untwisted as he spoke. You weren't sure if it was because of beer or his interest even in the most mundane things you told him, but you felt lighter. “Are you excited for the wedding?”

“Not really, they’ve been dating for years. I was wondering when he would ask, rather than if he would ask.” He nodded, checking the food in the pot and he raised himself to stir it.

You gulped when you saw his flexing muscles underneath his tshirt. Your fingers played with the rim of bottle, watching him prepare the plates and his thick arms and long fingers move.

“Tommy was nervous as hell when he proposed. Maybe same thing happened with him as well.”

“Yeah maybe. The idea of marriage can be scary.”

“You think so?”

You are not the kind of girl suitable for marriage.

“Yes, but I also know you do not get scarred that much when you know you are married with the right person.” You were not sure if you were saying this to him or yourself.

“Well, you haven’t seen my brother at the end of the aisle but he is one of a kind guy. But Maria was relaxed, so you might be right.” He said as he came back with two plates of food.

“It looks delicious.”

“Told ya I was a nice cook. Let’s dig in.”

—

The most of the dinner was spent with questions about your jobs and family. Nothing too personal, nothing to make you nervous. Although you had beer for that. The screeching voice of your ex had stopped echoing in your head.

Now you were sitting on his couch, drinking and going over your funny stories to one another.

His knees were touching yours, his hands was close to your thigh, but he was not directly touching you. His left hand’s pinky were barely grazing your upper thigh.

“So the stripper you hired took wallets of three guys from the party and nobody blamed you?”

“Well, I got the number from a guy at work. If anybody were to be blamed, then it would be him. Plus, I’m not someone who loses all his senses when a girl in underwear sits on my lap.”

“You are not?”

“Nawh baby, I’m not a teenager anymore. I can focus when a pretty girl is on ma lap.” You raised your eyebrows, chuckling at his confession.

Baby.

You could definitely go with being called baby.

You wetted your lips as his pinky brushed your thigh, you had to restrain yourself from opening your legs.

“Really? That’s good for you then, we don’t want your wallet to be stolen as well.”

He shook his head, his fingers brushing over your thighs. When you turned your gaze at him your heart skipped a beat.

He looked amazing in the dimmed lights of the room. You got closer to him, wondering what would be his next move.

“Want me to show you?” He whispered and you nodded. A bit quicker than you’d prefer…

He gently pressed his lips on yours. Waiting for a response as his lips lingered on yours. You kissed him back, leaning your body closer to his.

The kiss was slow; he didn’t push his tongue into your mouth right away. Something you were glad he didn’t.

His hands stood on his sides, allowing you to set the pace. You bit down on his lower lip, slowly, signaling him to open his mouth. He grunted, clenching his hands into fists to stop himself from touching you. Opening his mouth to push his tongue inside yours, sucking your tongue.

You could taste the bitter taste of the beer, but didn’t mind. Sure same could apply for you as well. Your hands placed on his cheeks, his stubble digging inside your palms.

He slowly placed his hands on your waist, guiding you on his lap. When you were settled, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. A small whimper left your lips, when you felt him getting harder under you.

His other hand moved south, palm following the shape of your ass. Your one hand moved further down, feeling his muscles fletch inside his tshirt.

“You’re good.” You admitted as you broke the kiss for air. His hands still on your body, caressing you. He rested his head on the back of the couch.

“‘Want me to show ya things I’m better at?” His tone was smug. You nodded quickly, letting your body make decisions for you.

He pulled you back to his torso, kissing you rougher than before. His hand was now in front of your jeans, cupping you. You moaned when he pressed his fingers onto tight denim.

A few seconds later you were lying down on the couch with him between your legs and your jeans were already left your body.

His palms were rough as they moved across your legs, moving towards your upper thighs then your panties. “May I?” He said between kisses, waiting for your approval.

You nodded, but he only hooked his fingers on the hem of your panties. “Words baby, use your words.” You felt yourself getting wetter when he called you by that nickname again.

“Yes, please.”

“That’s my girl.” He said as he quickly pecked your lips, sliding off your underwear. His fingers traced your lips, gathering your slick. “Fuck, I didn’t expect you to be this wet baby.” He whispered on your lips.

You felt the heat rising through your cheeks but before you could hide your face Joel already pushed a finger inside you. “Oh!” You moaned loudly, he raised your leg and hooked it on his shoulder.

“I’d love to hear your voice baby. Let’s see if you can be louder.” He said as he started moving his finger rapidly. Hitting your sweet spot with the pad of his finger at each stroke.

Your toes curled and you felt your stomach got tighten with his movements. “Hmph J-Joel!” You held onto his upper arm for support. His lips on your neck, kissing and nibbling. Before giving you a chance to get used to first one, he pushed his second finger inside you. Your grasp on his arm got tighter, leaving crescent shaped marks.

You could feel yourself drip onto his palm, hearing the slick noises as his fingers moved inside you. “I-I’m cl-close.” You admitted, feeling your walls close around his fingers.

“Yeah baby?” He said as he slowed down to look at you, brushing off to hair strands on your face. You nodded, biting down on your lower lip. “Let go for me, okay? Come on.” He said as he got back to his old pace, scissoring his fingers.

When your orgasm hit you, you raised your head to kiss him. Wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you. He gladly surrendered to your kiss, his hand placed on your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

Slowly pulling his fingers as your breaths slowed down. His hand moved to the hem of your top. You felt your heart shrunk on your chest. You placed your hand on top of his, shaking your head.

He pulled his hand back like it just touched fire. Muttering an apology as you raised yourself. “I’m so sorry.” You said, reaching for your underwear and pants to quickly put them on.

“It’s getting late, I should get going.” You explained as you checked the time on your phone.

10:34 PM.

After ten is late right?

He nodded quickly. “Let me drop you off.” He said as he got up from the couch. You noticed his boner once he stood back on his feet. Pressing your lips together to stop your cunt from throbbing at the sight.

You were leaving the guy who gave you a body wrecking orgasm with a huge, thick boner…

“We both drank. I think it is better for me to call an Uber.”

“You are right.” He slurred his words, walking over to you. “Let me walk you out then. I can join you as you wait.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You dropped your shoulders, seeing the guilt all over his face. You nodded, allowing him to walk with you.

You took out your phone to call for an Uber. Sighing with relief when you saw your driver was close to you.

“So that was… good?” You raised your head back to him. Putting your phone back inside your bag. Guilt and tension were all over his face.

“I really had a nice time. I have this thing in the morning and we drank and it’s—” He put his hands in the air. Stopping your mumbling.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” He said, smiling down at you. “I’ll call you then, for next time?”

“Yeah that’d be great.” You answered, eyes going back and forth between him and the road.

Shifting on your feet from one foot to other. His hands were in his pockets. Resting his body on the metal gate, casually checking you up and down.

When you saw your car coming you gave him a small goodbye hug, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I had a great time. Thanks for everything.” You explained again, trying your best to assure him he had done nothing wrong.

“Anytime. Text me once you get back, alright?”

“Sure.” You said as you walked over to your car, looking over your shoulder before you got in. He waved you slightly, you smiled back and he mouthed the words ‘Be safe.’

Once he was out of your sight, you relaxed on your seat. Let go of the breath you were holding since you put back on your jeans.

Your fingers were rubbing your temples. As you quickly recapped the night.

You ended up on a guy’s lap again on the first date. You even went to his place and let him finger you. At least you did not let him fuck you with his seemingly huge cock. That showed self-improvement…

And lastly, you turned down the guy who was the nicest guy you have met.

You knew you kissed your chance to a second date goodbye as the Uber turned around the corner to your street.

[part ii]

[emisreadingstuff]

[emisreadingstuff]

just saw this on pinterest and i'm losing my mind....

[emisreadingstuff]

I'M OBSESSED!! such a perfect crossover !

wild like the west

3.3k / pairing: cowboy!joel miller x cowgirl!reader

main masterlist | notifications blog

summary: joel and his cowgirl warnings/information:  MA 18+ (minors DNI), implied but unspecified age gap, joel is technically reader's boss (so power dynamic stuff), swearing, dirty talk, pet names (baby girl, brat, etc.), unprotected p in v, pussy pronouns, asphyxiation kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, clean up on aisle reader's stomach, reader is described having hair but otherwise (I believe) reader is a blank slate, no use of y/n, barely edited A/N: I unfortunately have not stopped thinking about a game joel miller x yellowstone crossover, and I feel like he would like this to be his long, happy life. I also haven't written for joel since may which feels like a sin! sorry baby!

It doesn’t matter how many ass bruises you get, or the pain of repeated thrashes to your knees from getting bucked off; this unruly horse will bend its spirit to your will. 

Half the job of purchasing new horses for the Miller Ridge Ranch is breaking them in like a pair of new shoes. 

Any cowboy, or for you, cowgirl, knows that a horse can sense your personality and fear from a mile away. If you sprout fear, it won’t trust you to be the guide on its back. It’s a mutual thing to trust one another. It’s the trust Joel thrust upon you after loyally working at the ranch for a handful of years. Sure, you were young, but you had a good head on your shoulders.

He perches his cowboy boot on the low fence rail, teeth gnawing at a toothpick as he watches you with careful eyes. The morning dew settles over the long grass and tall trees, untouched by man, fostered by nature. With the sun clawing at the horizon, the land turns from a pale blue to a beaming orange glow.  It’s beautiful here, peaceful. You imagine this is the life that Joel always wanted, craved. He’s not from around here, he’s got too much Southern twang to be from these northern Montana woods. 

Life guided him up here and he never turned back. 

You can feel the horse grow agitated under your haunches, whinnying with anxiety as it takes a few rough steps backward in the ground-up dirt. 

“S’okay, boy, take it easy, easy,” you coo in a gentle voice that lets the horse breathe through its panic. You grip the colt’s mane at the very base of his neck, right by the horn of your saddle, gently scratching that sweet spot that seems to bring him some tranquility.

You’re the only one who seems to calm these beautiful boys. 

“You got a habit of gettin’ in’ta trouble before it even knows to start lookin’ for ya.” Joel’s southern drawl rumbles deep from his chest, stepping into the training ring and crooking his first two fingers in your direction. 

“I got it, Joel,” you say insistently, guiding the horse by a little squeeze of your boots to its belly in Joel’s direction. 

“Know ya do.” Joel stops at the horse’s chest and pats its neck, large and calloused hand stroking down its coarse mane as he stares up at you, squinting from the morning sunlight. 

His eyes are starkly brilliant in this light, typically a dark brown, now a glowy amber under the brim of his black cowboy hat. “You know that part of learnin’ how to be a cowboy is lettin’ them break in their own horse. Hop down.”

A sigh leaves your parted lips as you unhook one boot from the stirrups and throw yourself off. Taking the reigns, you walk with Joel back to the main fence. 

“You’re too nice to ‘em. I hired you to be a bit more…” He pauses indefinitely, tilting his head.

“Ruthless. I know.” Your eyes connect, both hardened after years of this long life. One day of being a cowboy felt like a year at any other job. 

The plan was plain and simple, a route you’d taken a hundred times with a crew that changed on and off for the past couple of years. The cattle were in need of fresh resources, lush grass to graze on, and streams of pristine crystal water. Up through the valley they’d go. 

The cowboys and cowgirls were gathered on their horses, Joel sat atop his beautiful black mare, eyes piercing his crew even behind his tinted sunglasses. Any season besides summer in this state demanded thick, warm work wear. Joel adorned a chocolate brown Carhartt and thick denim jeans under old, worn-out brown chaps. 

“I want Wyatt and Jack to take front, Bo and Sadie, swing, Jess and June on the flank, Tucker and Sammy on the drag. Wear your bandanas, it’s gonna get dusty back there,” your eyes flick up to a string of confused faces, “any questions?” 

“Why do we have to go through the valley? We’d have to push hundreds of cows through open water,” Bo mutters, disdain for a woman making all these choices for him, perhaps. 

“Yeah, n’I can’t swim. Never learned.” Another pipes in. 

“Then you’re a goddamn idiot,” old man Wyatt gurgles up a chuckle. Wyatt has been a cowboy longer than you have been alive. He raised you up to be tough with a streak of kindness that could never be washed away. He gives you a tight nod of reassurance as you sigh weakly. 

All this tomfoolery seems to be a bit much for Joel’s taste. “She’s takin’ questions about the plan, not your ‘pinions on it. I tell her what to do, she tells ya’ll what to do. You question her, you question me. So do as she says, or you answer to me.”

Joel’s always had a tight hand on the crew. He intimidates them. He is their boss, after all. They have a problem with you or this ranch or anyone else, they answer to him. Joel takes off his sunglasses and narrows his eyes on Bo, the newest cowboy with a pretty big mouth on him who bucks just as bad as your new colts. And his dead eyes are set on you. 

The rest of the crew sets off towards the direction of the cattle herd, everyone except Bo. 

Your head jerks upward in his direction, your own eyes narrowed. “You wanna say somethin’?” You ride alongside Bo, who seems to be wrestling with his stupid thoughts. But before he gets a chance to say anything, Joel intervenes. 

“Got a fight in you? It starts an’ ends with me.”

Bo looks between both of you, simply scoffing before he backs his horse off and trots along towards the crew. 

The view from the top of the valley is beautiful, all yellow and golden, with a pale blue sky and tall trees that harbor the secrets of the forest. Joel used to tell you it would whisper to him, warn him. Your chestnut-colored horse stands tall next to Joel’s, and both of you are overseeing the herd and the crew working together. 

“Not as bad as I thought this was gonna be,” Joel mutters, turning his head in your direction. You’re unrecognizably quiet. He’s never known you to be so still. 

He watches as your fingers anxiously twirl your horse’s mane. “You undermine me in front of them, and they don’t respect me, Joel.” 

So that’s what got you so stiff. He takes in a deep breath of mountain air, crossing his wrists over the horn of his saddle and glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. Your hair blows in the wind, gentle and flowing. Almost graceful if it wasn’t in this wild west. Your beauty was city beauty, he was surprised you ever found your way out here. 

“Bo’s as green as grass. He needs to learn not t’talk to you like that. And if he needs to learn from me, so be it.”

Keeping your lips zipped, your eyes scan the points that use the dogs to guide the herd in the right direction. The swings and flanks work the mid to back-mid to maintain movement, and the drags stationed at the back ensure that any loose stragglers keep up. 

Joel rolls his eyes and sighs, reaching his hand across to your horse’s reigns, keeping your horse tucked to his side. 

“C’mon, Cowgirl. Spit it out.” 

“You go about defendin’ me, it looks like we’re sleepin’ together,” you gripe, “and I don’t need our crew slingin’ the slander that I got my job fuckin’ the boss. I don’t want that shit, Joel.”

Joel shifts his jaw from side to side, silent as he usually is. His tongue muscles over the right words, the words that will settle that ball of uncertainty you have nestled in your gut. 

He settles on the truth. 

“We are sleepin’ together.” 

Shaking your head, you steal your reigns back from Joel and gently nuzzle your boots against the horse’s underbelly. “Well, maybe that should end.” 

Joel watches on with a small smirk as your horse is set in motion down the grassy hill. He shouts loud enough for his voice to carry down from the high ground. “You set those boys straight, or I’ll have to keep doin’ it for ya.”

You sling back your middle finger in his direction, both of your horses riding side by side now as you follow the crew through to the valley. 

Joel sighs upon entering his large, private cabin, resting his cowboy hat to air out on a hook by the front door. His clothes wreak of his musky sweat, and the shower calls his name. He walks stiffly. Joel’s thick thigh muscles are as strong as iron from riding his horse, and his back cracks each time he inhales.

But he can’t deny that this life was made for him. 

Training to be a carpenter, earning pennies on the dollar to work in the hot Texas sun, and for what? Building someone else’s dream property? He had his own dreams. 

The ranch was his dream.

He always had a profound appreciation for nature and the outdoors. 

Fuck the city, fuck car horns honking obnoxiously, fuck the traffic. He found more fulfillment in listening to the wind flutter through the trees and would much rather hear the moos of his cattle than impatient commuters at six in the morning. 

Plus, he’s never felt more free or independent. This was his land, and he made the decisions on how it was run. Hiring the sassy cowgirl from the metropolis just happened to be a nice bonus on lonely nights when there wasn’t much left to his whiskey bottle, and the ride into town was more than twenty minutes for a new one. She sated him all the same, better, even.  

Despite years of riding and wrangling, you’re so fucking soft. You have soft eyes, a pretty voice, and satiny thighs. Your lips are plush against his weathered ones, and you don’t seem to mind sitting in his lap with his rougher-than-barbwire hands feeling over your body. 

But in turn, you’ve made a little soft spot in his wild like the west heart of his. And he swore he’d never settle down; you seem to have the same intentions. 

Things were easy. Nice and easy. Almost routine. 

The bunkhouse would be busy with cowboys and cowgirls playing card games, drinking their beers, singing to the music on the radio, and talking nonsense. You’d slip out after dark and wind up upstairs in his bed. 

He recalls you saying something about how his bed is more comfy than the ones in the bunkhouse. 

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” 

Tonight was no different. Fresh from his shower with a towel secured low on his waist, he hums curiously at the sight of you sprawled out across his bed. No more than a minute later, you are tugging it loose from his frame and letting it pool around his ankles. 

“Thought you said you were done,” Joel muses with a hint of teasing. You sit up from the bed on your knees and wrap your arms around his broad trap and shoulder muscles. 

“I ain’t a quitter,” you mutter against Joel’s mouth, feeling his tongue glide along yours as he explores you freely. 

He sheds your clothes, feeling your freshly showered skin and hair under his rough palms. He can’t help but touch you like you’re his, like he owns you. But no man can possess the wind. 

You kiss as he slips you under the bed’s cool sheets, drunk on the way you move so pliantly under his guidance. His lips move to the slope of your neck, his greying whiskers scratching your skin before he washes over the irritation with more kisses. 

Joel’s hands slip between your legs, cupping your clothed center in one hand. Your eyes light up at the friction, mewling up a moan of his name as he massages over the wet spot growing on your panties. 

“She’s already soaked, darlin’. You been thinkin’ ‘bout this?” Joel muses, sitting up properly to peel your shirt off your body, two fingers curling around the hem of your panties and chucking them mindlessly on the floor. 

“Joel,” you whisper breathlessly as he’s about to slip down between those pretty legs of yours. 

“What?” He asks, damn near annoyed. 

“I can’t wait,” you beg breathlessly, his eyes meeting yours. “I-I can’t, I’m beggin’ you, please. It’s been a long day.” 

Joel sighs but ultimately nods. It’s not what he wants, but sometimes you both need a quick fix. 

Joel’s body parts your legs, a grunt escaping the depth of his throat as he ruts his hips against your own. 

“Good idea,” he mutters against your mouth, leaning down and distracting himself with your kisses as he lines his length up and down your soaking center. 

You sharply inhale as he enters and the sound is music to his ears. He feels your nails carving into his back muscles as he sinks himself in deeper deeper deeper, both of you panting with eagerness by the time his hips are flush with your own, lost in where you end and he begins.

You let out a string of moans as he reels himself back, only to return to your depths with a snap of his hips that releases a shrill whine of his name from your throat. His forearms are buried in the fluff of the pillows on either side of your head, forehead against forehead, his hips grinding against you now. 

The friction is enough to make your head spin. You can feel the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your already anxious pearl. 

“Fuck,” you huff out, letting your hands slip down his back, knowing that if you want him to pick up the pace, you’ll have to ignite his fire. In one quick movement, your hands drag themselves up Joel’s back, your nails creating etched lines that raise red once you finish at the very tops of his shoulders. 

Joel releases a long, low groan in response as his eyes snap open to meet yours. The sting of pain creates heat along Joel’s spine. His jaw is wound tight as he brings his large hand to wrap around your pretty throat, thumb on your chin to force you into staring straight at him. 

“Such a goddamn brat,” he growls, adding pressure to the column of your throat as he begins to pound into you harder and harder with each thrust of his hips. You cry out his name, a cacophony of your panting moans and your slick squelching against his hips fill your ears. The ecstasy of losing just a smidge of air is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

He’s obsessed with the way your eyes gloss over in lust, your body jerking up the bed with each powerful thrust he gives you. Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air that’s just out of your reach. 

“You take it, baby girl, you keep takin’ it. She’s so fuckin’- goddamit, so fuckin’ good for me,” he pants, feeling the warm air dissolve against your skin as Joel begins to swell fatter inside of you. 

Perfectly slick and warm, he loses himself in your pussy. You squeeze and choke him, his orgasm only building as you whimper how good he feels. 

“Holy fuck, Joel, please please please, right there, ohmygod you’re gonna make me-” you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you grip onto his forearm that’s still holding your delicate throat, your other hand gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. He knows to squeeze a little harder as you fall apart, the euphoria of the combination sending you over the edge. 

Joel’s holding on for dear life, always focused on putting you first, always trying to prove your jokes of him being an old man wrong. But he can’t deny he’s nearly finished twice now, your pretty cunt all nice and warm for him. 

What’s wrong with pushing you over the edge a little?

Joel abandons the hold on your throat as you still are witnessing the aftershocks of your orgasm, his two thick fingers circling over your swollen clit. 

Joel smirks as your eyes snap open, your jaw dropping wide as you silently scream in pleasure. He nods sadistically, smirking as he overstimulates your already twitchy clit.

“You’re gonna give me another, right here, right now,” Joel grunts, stilling his hips as he’s buried to the hilt inside you, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as your gasps and strangled moans fill the room. 

“Fuck, Joel I don’t think I can,” you cry out, bracing the wrist of the hand that’s still working figure-eights around your pearl. Joel watches as your chest rises and falls quickly, nipples at peaks as you continue to clench repeatedly around his cock. 

 “Know you can, baby, cum on this cock again. You’re a strong cowgirl, ain’t’cha? You been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day, getting this pretty girl drilled by me, know ya have.”

And he’s right. Shamefully so. Denying Joel looks good in and out of his cowboy attire is just nonsense. The way he rides his horse with his thighs snagged tight around its middle, gnawing on his toothpicks to ward off the need to smoke a cigarette or chew; at this point, it’s everything that he does that turns you on. 

And maybe that’s why it’s so easy to give him a second one. 

Your nails pierce into his skin as your hands grip his biceps, mewling and moaning something wrecked, feeling the warmth gather deep in your belly once more. 

“Keep fuckin’ me, I didn’t say to stop,” you pant.

Joel disguises his laughter by meeting your lips with his own, giving you messy kisses that taste better than perfect ones. His hips and fingers work in tandem to force you over the edge. You’re shaking under him, your thigh muscles twitching with excitement, legs wrapping around his middle as he grows closer to his own finish. 

Just as he feels like he’s going to give way, he can feel your pussy clenching around his aching cock, his tip brushing so perfectly against that spongy spot that sets your insides alight. 

“Fuck,” he grits, ripping himself loose of your perfectly wasted cunt as he yanks over his length. One, two, three more times, and he’s spilling warm spend across your belly. The pretty splatters are like a Jackson Pollock. He stares in awe at how pretty you look getting finished on. 

The bed dips as he falls into place beside you. He doesn’t lay idle. He reaches for some tissues from his bedside table, politely wiping away his mess as you stare at him with lustful eyes. You were so fucked out. Sorta cute. 

“Quit,” he mutters, avoiding your eyes. 

“You ain’t as old as I thought you were.” You whisper, a smirk tugging on the corners of your mouth. 

Joel chuckles softly at your familiar tease. He's heard it countless times, but it never ceases to make him roll his eyes and pull you closer to him. He kisses your forehead affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of playful banter.

“You gonna keep remindin' me about my age every chance you get? Don’t stop ya from comin’ back each night.”

You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart thump. 

Joel’s got one arm slung around your shoulders, the other on your thigh that’s draped across his middle. His strong hand works slowly into your tired muscles. You play with the greying curls on his chest, taking note of the dark, nearly black ones still speckled throughout. 

“Goodnight, old cowboy.” You say, patting his chest, hearing his slow laughter rumble from his chest. 

“G’night, pain in my ass.” 

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