littledes1re

[littledes1re]

Same😌 Thank you so much for reading🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Cherry pie

Pairing: Oldman!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: After countless dates with a boy, you know that next time you’re going to sleep with him. But you’re way too inexperienced. So what better way is there than showing up at Joel Miller’s door with cherry pie in hand, and asking if he’s willing to help you out?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, oldman!joel, dom!joel, both reader and Joel are kinda unhinged, slight pervy!joel, tiny bit of mean!joel but he is a softie, cheating (also not? bc reader is not together with that boy), inexperienced!reader, girthy age gap! (61 and 24), praise kink, slight degradation, breeding kink (?), oral m!receiving, pinv, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, fingering, riding, size kink, outbreak, tiny bit of thigh riding

A/N: oh my gosh that old, dirty man is back at it again. I missed him, I hope yall did too😌

Your fingers tapped nervously on the plate beneath the cherry pie. The sweet scent was almost unbearable, but giving up wasn’t an option—not after that time you spent searching for ingredients outside of Jackson.

The sun dipped low behind the trees and it was nearly evening. The timing was perfect for some pie, and you were sure Joel would love it.

His house sat on the quieter edge of Jackson, marked by a ‘Miller’ mailbox, a wooden porch, and a dried-out garden. (You couldn’t blame him though, he was working way too hard to keep up with his garden.)

Three knocks.

“Hi.” You greeted him, a smile tugging on your lips. His eyebrows quickly furrowed—just as you know him. Joel looked exhausted. His green flannel dirty, hair messy and dirt stained boots. He just came back from work.

“Whatcha doin’, girl?” His voice hoarse, deep. Sending shivers down your spine.

And you knew this was a bad idea. Heck, asking Joel—your mentor, your teacher and someone who took care of you countless times—to show you how to give someone a blowjob was embarrassing.

But you didn’t know how else to learn. You were way too inexperienced—no enough friends to ask, no porn, no education in this town.

And after your last time, having to interrupt a heavy make out session with that one boy who works at the day care, you needed desperate help for next time.

“Bought you cherry pie.”

His eyes lingered over the pie for a moment, then landed on your body—following the curve of your skin up and down, lingering far too long on the red crop top you were wearing.

“Made me pie, eh? It’s cold outside. Come on in.” He opened his door wide, a hand coming to the small of your back and letting you in—lingering a bit longer than usual.

From the inside, his house was cosier—the last bits of sunlight spilling from the windows, painting everything into a golden haze. His furniture, old and rugged like him, was scattered with soft pillows and a few photos here and there. And of course, his beloved wooden carved animals, carefully crafted, sat in every corner, quietly collecting dust.

You carefully place the pie on his kitchen counter, nervously biting the inside of your cheek.

Joel already pulls out two forks, one for you and one for him. “Now what do we have here.”

You knew he adored your pies. Sometimes you’d bake him two or even three, and he’d devour every last bite—but only after he’d done something in return. Whether it was fixing something around your apartment or bringing you something from patrol, there was always a little exchange involved.

“What’s the matter with you? Why the face?” he asks, and your heart leaps, suddenly remembering why you came. He already took a generous bite of cherry pie, a smear of filling resting messily at the corner of his mouth.

“Just—uhm. Can you do me a little favor?”

“A favor? Should’ve known. Y’never bring that old man pie without wanting any favors.”

You giggle quietly, also taking a bite of pie.

“What is it this time, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

The first time he called you that was when you were together on patrol. He taught you how to use a sniper, his hand landing gently on your shoulder, squeezing softly when you did well. Or when you helped him fix your light—tools in your hand, his voice calling you a good girl when you handed him the right ones.

Or when he had you creaming around his fingers. After giving him his pie, quietly, on your couch. Leaving small kisses on your neck, the other hand rubbing your nipples through your shirt, telling you how good you are for him.

And a ‘this can’t happen again.’ leaving you with wanting more.

So, you weren’t sure if you were here because of that boy or because of Joel. Because, admittedly, you have been aching for his touch since then.

“Cat got ya tongue?” He interrupts your thoughts with a quick snap of fingers. “My back is fuckin’ killing me. Let’s sit down on the couch, then you can tell me about that little favour of yours.”

Before you can answer him, he pulls out two plates, carefully puts one slice for you and two slices for himself, and then walks to his living room with them.

You take a deep breath.

Walking into the living room, you see him sitting there—already one of the slices gone—as he starts on the other. You gently make your way to him, sitting down next to him. He takes his fork with pie and brings it to your mouth, making you giggle and take it, a coo leaving his lips.

“C’mon, say it,” he urges, nudging you. Your mind spins with all the ways this could end.

Either he’ll react well—just as you know him—and help you, or he’ll make you leave his house and never contact him again.

You start, “So there is a boy.” And you can see him clenching his jaw tight, fork leaving his hand as his eyebrows furrow.

“That so?”

“Mhm. And I—I don’t know how to ask you this but—“

You look down, your fingers fidgeting with each other, heart thudding in your chest like it’s about to break out.

“Spit it out, kid.” He sighs, sets the plate down, and turns his body toward you—making it now impossibly more difficult for you.

“I—I want to do things with him. But i’m kinda too inexperienced.” Your cheek heat up while you’re talking, your gaze falls down not wanting to look into his disturbed face. The air in the room now feeling impossibly thick.

After an awkward silence you peak up to Joel, who is just looking at you. You can’t tell if it’s disbelief or disgust. Or maybe something in between.

“Jesus christ, girl.” He mutters out. “And what do you want me to do? Hold your hand while you’re getting dicked down?”

Your eyes widen, a gasp leaving your lips at his wording.

“Oh my god—no, no. That’s not what I meant.” Well, what you meant might be just a little bit worse than what he interpreted it as.

“Just—ya know…maybe show me how to give a blo—“

“Nah.” He interrupts you swiftly, shaking his head. “Not happenin’”

You sigh, defeated. Not only did you feel embarrassed, but you probably just ruined your almost perfect relationship with him. Joel took a pillow, mumbling something under his breath, and placed it over his lap. Your eyes perked up at that—he was hard. And he was trying to hide it.

“B-but, you also showed me something else the other time. Wouldn’t be that the same?”

He sighs. “Baby, you ain’t comin’ here dressed like that, bringing me cherry pie and asking me to give you sex ed.”

“Y’know I ain’t got anyone else.” You pout—maybe that’ll help. “And besides, you told me to come to you whenever I needed something right?”

“Christ,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. “Just can tell you how it’s done, yea? Nothin’ more.”

You hesitate. Hearing it out loud would be more awkward than him simply showing you. His eyes leave no room for choice, so you give a small nod.

“Comin’ here asking me how to blow someone.” He shakes his head, in disbelief.

“Heyyy, Joel—I don’t know how else to learn okey? I don’t want to embarrass myself.” You whine.

“S’fine.” He grumbles under his breath, sitting up straight. “Y’start by teasing.”

His eyes land on your tits.

“Show ‘em. Every boy will appreciate it.”

Your cheeks flush red.

“Then you get on those pretty knees. Take it out, give it some love.”

You ask, curious. “How do I give it some love?”

“Can’t serve everything on a silver spoon can I?” Grumpy, annoyed—making you amused. The pout from earlier starts to form again, you give him a pleading look.

He sighs once again. “Give kisses first. From top to bottom. Stroke gently.” And you notice how the tip of his ears are red.

“And the rest is pretty much self explanatory, ain’t it sweetheart?”

You look at him, the curiosity not letting up. As if you had no clue of the world, wanting him to explain it to you in every single detail. And you were so amused at how flushed and annoyed he was getting.

“God damn, girl. Open them lips, wrap them around and go up and down.”

“How fast?”

“Just how fast that person likes.” He shruggs.

“How do I know how fast that person likes it?” And it’s laughable at how dumb you were making yourself seem, but seeing him grip the pillow over his crotch tighter, his cheeks flushed and sweat dripping from his forehead—it was worth every single second.

“I let my girls know when I gather their hair in my palm and push them faster down.”

Your breath hitches, his girls.

“Then I buck my hips into their mouth,” he continues.

All this time, you thought Joel was a miserable, lonely man with no relationships whatsoever. Embarrassment washes over you as you think about how you believed you were the only one he liked—and that when he fingered you, you were special. You came here to get educated—no, you came here to seduce him. And that was the plain truth.

“Got that in your pretty little head?” He asks you, suddenly pinching your chin between his fingers and making you look at him.

You wanted him to push your head down and buck his hips against you.

“Not really.”

“You’re getting on my last nerves.” He grumbles before putting the pillow away and revealing his bulge. Your eyes land on it, as he zips down his pants, looking at you. His eyes darkening.

“C’mon. That brain of yours had to take some sort of information, right?”

His eyes land on your tits.

You quickly nod, pushing your crop top up quicky, revealing your breasts to him. You hear a groan leaving his chest, then a chuckle.

“Good, that’s what I like to see.” His hand finds your chest, fingers squeezing, then pinching your nipple. “Now what do we do?”

“Get on my knees.”

“Atta girl. Get on those knees.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice when you slide down the couch and kneel in front of his bulge. Nodding, he gently pulls his hard one out of his boxers.

You almost start to drool at the sight.

He was so big. And he was pulsing. Red mushroom head, precum dribbling from the slit and decorated with veins from bottom to top.

“Now, what did we say?” He asks, his hand gently pumping himself up and down, while your eyes follow.

“Give it some love.”

Your hands shakily grab his cock, looking small compared to his length. Stroking up and down, looking up to him with doe eyes and placing kisses on every inch while you listen to Joels groans.

“That’s it.” He gathers your hair into his palm, forming a loose ponytail to keep it from falling in your face. “A man should always do this, yea? Not let you do all the work.”

Your cheeks heat up again, his eyes lock into yours as you nod. There was a warmth spreading inside your panties. You had already difficulties taking his fingers last time, you wonder how it’ll be if you took his cock.

“Wanna take him into my mouth.” You mumble.

He coos. “‘course ya do. C’mon then. Show me how good you listened.”

“Up and down.” You nod. “Hm, up and down, that’s right.” He answers.

You open your lips, hand gently stroking up and down his dick. Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip, hearing him shudder in response.

You try different things out. Swirling around, getting deeper, pulling out and giving small kitten licks. All the while Joel groans your name, and without noticing, your ponytail wrapped in his fist, he moves your head—slow, deliberate—up and down his length.

“Just like that. Y’learning fast.”

The pleasure in your abdomen getting unbearable. You feel yourself soaking through your panties as you start grinding your hips against the heel of your foot.

“Would ya look at that.” He chuckles, his hand going faster.

And as Joel’s movements get messier, he dives your head down until a gag rises sharp in your throat. You cough, and he pulls out quickly, watching your face closely.

“Deep breaths, deep breaths, baby.” He carefully tries to calm you down, and while you try to breath normal again, he starts apologising: “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That should’ve not happen. Got too lost in the pleasure.”

“S’okey.” You smile lazily to him, drool hanging from the sides of your face, lips swollen red. You looked too beautiful for your own damn good right now. And Joel wants nothing more to take you right then and there.

“I think that’s enough for today. You already learned how to use your mouth. I’m sure you’ll do good.”

Disappointment washes down your face. You sit there looking up to him with pleading eyes. The throbbing in your cunt unbearable and the urge to take care of him way too big.

He slips the edge of his shirt over his thumb and brushes the drool from your mouth, slow and careful.

“Pretty girl. You let that boy treat you well, yea? Or else.” He mumbles, but your eyes are only on his wet, aching cock.

The boy was forgotten, and Joel could see it in your hazy, fucked-out eyes. You were needy—needy to be touched—and he wished he could just take you, right on his couch. But he made that mistake once. He couldn’t let it happen again.

You move before you even realize it, climbing onto his lap and settling on one of his thighs. His hard cock grazes your skin, and he takes his time looking at you—your lips, your tits.

“Oh angel, we can’t.” A breath leaves his mouth.

You lean in and start kissing him—his cheek, his neck—fingers stroking through his hair as you suckle on his collarbones. His hands find your waist, gripping tight. One hand cups your breast, pinching your nipple. And before you even realize it, your hips are grinding against his thigh.

“Why?” You ask, laying your head against his chest, moving your hips in a slow rhythm.

“I would ruin you.” He answers, “And people in this town would kill us.”

“But you’re just teachin’ me something. Nobody has to know.”

A groan leaves his lips when your hands wrap around his cock, gently stroking up and down.

“That so?”

“Hm”, you nod. “Y’still need to teach me how to take cock.”

“Jesus christ, sweetheart. When did ya get so bold, huh?”

And you want to say ‘when you left me with aching for more’ but you don’t. Instead, you focus on the pleasures building in your tummy. Grinding harder against the rough fabric of his jeans, and a whimper slipping from your lips.

Suddenly, Joel mumbles a “fuck it,” then follows with, “Pull your pants and panties down. Now.” He demands it—and you do just that, standing up and tugging everything down.

“But you ain’t gonna complain if it hurts.” His hands pull you back into his lap, making you sit down again. “All this begging and then complaining about it hurting would be pathetic, girl.”

“C’mere. You’re wet enough.” One hand touches your folds, the other holding his cock. You buckle up, his tip gliding over your folds as you release a breath.

You gently and slowly, sink down.

“Easy, easy, babygirl.” He helps you. Squeezing your hips and guiding you through. A cry leaving your lips when you fully sit down. His length stretching you, touching places you’ve never even felt before.

“S’big, yea? That’s a mans cock, baby. Not gonna gave that much satisfaction when you ride that boy.”

Your head falls to his shoulder, biting down, clenching on his cock. “So big.” A whimper falling from your lips.

“Oh I know, I know.” He whispers. “But you’ll take it, baby. Still need to teach you, don’t I?” He says it playfully. Joel knows the boy is long gone from your mind—and that you came here for one thing: to get fucked by him. There’s no denying it.

He shifts underneath you, gripping you by your thighs and thrusts two times up, leaving you breathless.

“Good?”

“Mhm. More.” And he doesn’t need to hear that twice. He starts giving you quick thrusts, altering between deep and slow, while your moans fill the room.

Your hands grip his shirt, looking at him, his eyebrows furrowed, concentrating, rough breaths leaving his mouth. Tits start to bounce up and down, while he pumps in and out of your squelching cunt.

“Ain’t the one I used to be, girl—help that old man, will you? Start moving your hips.” He groans.

Your body almost limb from the pleasure, starts moving at his request. Going up and down, circling. His hands guiding you, helping you. Biting your lips, whines filling the quiet room and as Joels body suddenly shudders, you feel it.

His cum pumping you. Spurt after spurt, filling you to the brim.

You whimper, looking down, seeing drops of cum escaping your pussy.

“Oh, that’s a good girl.” He coos. “Tightest fuckin’ cunt i’ve ever had. Made me cum in no time.”

And you’re still aching for more.

“Could’ve just go to him.” You shrug. “He would’ve at least lasted longer.”

Joel looks at you with widen eyes. The relief after his orgasm completely gone, his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushing red. Not with shame or embarrassment.

But anger.

Without a word, he grabs your hips and forces you down onto the couch beside him. Your eyes widen, hands clutching his neck as he looms over you.

“Joel, what are you doing?” You ask, with no answer. Instead, he spreads your legs and grabs his cock.

He glances down, noticing he’s still soft. After a few frustrated strokes, he mutters, “God dammit.”

You giggle.

“Find that funny, huh?” He asks and you can’t even answer before he fills you with two of his fingers, a yelp leaving your lips. “Still got my fingers, baby.”

“Joel..” You squeeze your eyes shut when he curls them, his thick fingers going in and out of you.

“M’right here, angel. Y’think that boy of yours can reach those spots huh?”

And the spots he reaches are indescribable. Your mouth falls open when he hits your g-spot over and over again. Your legs start to shake, as you feel yourself getting close.

“Look at that, y’let me cum in you so well.” He whispers, looking at the ring of sperm build around his fingers whenever he pulls them out of your cunt.

“Joeljoeljoel.” With that you clench down his fingers, hips bucking, tummy clenching, you come around his fingers with a big cry.

Before you can even come down, he’s filling you again—his cock sliding in. The stretch feels good this time, and you clutch his shoulders as he murmurs your name. Your sensitive walls tighten around him, his length still a bit soft but just firm enough to push deep.

“Takin’ it so so good, baby.” He gently whispers in your ear. His lips latch into your neck, kissing and biting. Your moans start to fill the room again, as his thrusts begin in a quick rhythm.

“Feels good, feels so good.” You whimper, and squirm around. “I know it does, I know. That boy may last longer, but he won’t give you a reason for your pussy to be swollen red.” He looks down at your cunt while saying, a thumb landing on your clit.

You can’t even listen to him as the pleasure grows in your tummy once again. “M’gonna cum, please.”

“Good, c’mon then.”

His thumb speeds up at your clit, your leg falls from the couch because of the hard thrusts. Your hands grip impossibly tight to his shoulders.

“Gonna fill you up again, show this whole town who you belong to, yea?” Your eyes get wide at that, making him chuckle. His thrusts growing sloppier and sloppier.

“Joel, please.”

“Shh, s’okey. Cum with me, baby.” And you do.

You let go. This time, it’s harder than any orgasm you’ve ever had. Your mouth falls open, silent, as Joel gives you two more hard thrusts before spilling inside you—filling you up again, his release dripping onto the couch beneath you.

He kisses your temple, your nose, your forehead while you come down. His breathing is still hard and deep just like yours, softly coming down from the hard orgasms you two just had.

He pulls out, sits up slightly and watches as his cum oozes out of you.

“Christ, all filled up aren’t you?” His fingers wander to your slit, then he gathers the cum that drips out of your hole and pushes it in with two of his fingers.

With all the exhaustion, you can only whimper.

He thrusts them in and out, thumb gently landing on your clit, just slightly grazing it and making you shudder because of the sensitivity.

“No boy, yea? You’re mine. And if that takes, that’ll prove it.” He looks at you, furrowed eyebrows. And you nod your head softly, limbs to weak to function as you lay on his couch filled to the brim while his fingers are still working inside of you.

The next orgasm rolls in quietly, soft and fleeting—just enough to leave you relaxed and sleepy. Joel lets out a quiet chuckle, then pulls you close by the waist and shoulder. You nestle your head against his shoulder, and he kisses your forehead with quiet affection.

“God damn, y’need to bring me more often pie, sweetheart.”

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 just need that old man so bad…

Taglist: @vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @kyloispunk @marisemonteiroo @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @lovelystrawberrysblog @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @brittmb115 @xcallmetaniax @umadirectioner @millersweetheart @wildthyng @armandispunk

[littledes1re]

THANK YOUUUU!!🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Cherry pie

Pairing: Oldman!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: After countless dates with a boy, you know that next time you’re going to sleep with him. But you’re way too inexperienced. So what better way is there than showing up at Joel Miller’s door with cherry pie in hand, and asking if he’s willing to help you out?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, oldman!joel, dom!joel, both reader and Joel are kinda unhinged, slight pervy!joel, tiny bit of mean!joel but he is a softie, cheating (also not? bc reader is not together with that boy), inexperienced!reader, girthy age gap! (61 and 24), praise kink, slight degradation, breeding kink (?), oral m!receiving, pinv, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, fingering, riding, size kink, outbreak, tiny bit of thigh riding

A/N: oh my gosh that old, dirty man is back at it again. I missed him, I hope yall did too😌

Your fingers tapped nervously on the plate beneath the cherry pie. The sweet scent was almost unbearable, but giving up wasn’t an option—not after that time you spent searching for ingredients outside of Jackson.

The sun dipped low behind the trees and it was nearly evening. The timing was perfect for some pie, and you were sure Joel would love it.

His house sat on the quieter edge of Jackson, marked by a ‘Miller’ mailbox, a wooden porch, and a dried-out garden. (You couldn’t blame him though, he was working way too hard to keep up with his garden.)

Three knocks.

“Hi.” You greeted him, a smile tugging on your lips. His eyebrows quickly furrowed—just as you know him. Joel looked exhausted. His green flannel dirty, hair messy and dirt stained boots. He just came back from work.

“Whatcha doin’, girl?” His voice hoarse, deep. Sending shivers down your spine.

And you knew this was a bad idea. Heck, asking Joel—your mentor, your teacher and someone who took care of you countless times—to show you how to give someone a blowjob was embarrassing.

But you didn’t know how else to learn. You were way too inexperienced—no enough friends to ask, no porn, no education in this town.

And after your last time, having to interrupt a heavy make out session with that one boy who works at the day care, you needed desperate help for next time.

“Bought you cherry pie.”

His eyes lingered over the pie for a moment, then landed on your body—following the curve of your skin up and down, lingering far too long on the red crop top you were wearing.

“Made me pie, eh? It’s cold outside. Come on in.” He opened his door wide, a hand coming to the small of your back and letting you in—lingering a bit longer than usual.

From the inside, his house was cosier—the last bits of sunlight spilling from the windows, painting everything into a golden haze. His furniture, old and rugged like him, was scattered with soft pillows and a few photos here and there. And of course, his beloved wooden carved animals, carefully crafted, sat in every corner, quietly collecting dust.

You carefully place the pie on his kitchen counter, nervously biting the inside of your cheek.

Joel already pulls out two forks, one for you and one for him. “Now what do we have here.”

You knew he adored your pies. Sometimes you’d bake him two or even three, and he’d devour every last bite—but only after he’d done something in return. Whether it was fixing something around your apartment or bringing you something from patrol, there was always a little exchange involved.

“What’s the matter with you? Why the face?” he asks, and your heart leaps, suddenly remembering why you came. He already took a generous bite of cherry pie, a smear of filling resting messily at the corner of his mouth.

“Just—uhm. Can you do me a little favor?”

“A favor? Should’ve known. Y’never bring that old man pie without wanting any favors.”

You giggle quietly, also taking a bite of pie.

“What is it this time, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

The first time he called you that was when you were together on patrol. He taught you how to use a sniper, his hand landing gently on your shoulder, squeezing softly when you did well. Or when you helped him fix your light—tools in your hand, his voice calling you a good girl when you handed him the right ones.

Or when he had you creaming around his fingers. After giving him his pie, quietly, on your couch. Leaving small kisses on your neck, the other hand rubbing your nipples through your shirt, telling you how good you are for him.

And a ‘this can’t happen again.’ leaving you with wanting more.

So, you weren’t sure if you were here because of that boy or because of Joel. Because, admittedly, you have been aching for his touch since then.

“Cat got ya tongue?” He interrupts your thoughts with a quick snap of fingers. “My back is fuckin’ killing me. Let’s sit down on the couch, then you can tell me about that little favour of yours.”

Before you can answer him, he pulls out two plates, carefully puts one slice for you and two slices for himself, and then walks to his living room with them.

You take a deep breath.

Walking into the living room, you see him sitting there—already one of the slices gone—as he starts on the other. You gently make your way to him, sitting down next to him. He takes his fork with pie and brings it to your mouth, making you giggle and take it, a coo leaving his lips.

“C’mon, say it,” he urges, nudging you. Your mind spins with all the ways this could end.

Either he’ll react well—just as you know him—and help you, or he’ll make you leave his house and never contact him again.

You start, “So there is a boy.” And you can see him clenching his jaw tight, fork leaving his hand as his eyebrows furrow.

“That so?”

“Mhm. And I—I don’t know how to ask you this but—“

You look down, your fingers fidgeting with each other, heart thudding in your chest like it’s about to break out.

“Spit it out, kid.” He sighs, sets the plate down, and turns his body toward you—making it now impossibly more difficult for you.

“I—I want to do things with him. But i’m kinda too inexperienced.” Your cheek heat up while you’re talking, your gaze falls down not wanting to look into his disturbed face. The air in the room now feeling impossibly thick.

After an awkward silence you peak up to Joel, who is just looking at you. You can’t tell if it’s disbelief or disgust. Or maybe something in between.

“Jesus christ, girl.” He mutters out. “And what do you want me to do? Hold your hand while you’re getting dicked down?”

Your eyes widen, a gasp leaving your lips at his wording.

“Oh my god—no, no. That’s not what I meant.” Well, what you meant might be just a little bit worse than what he interpreted it as.

“Just—ya know…maybe show me how to give a blo—“

“Nah.” He interrupts you swiftly, shaking his head. “Not happenin’”

You sigh, defeated. Not only did you feel embarrassed, but you probably just ruined your almost perfect relationship with him. Joel took a pillow, mumbling something under his breath, and placed it over his lap. Your eyes perked up at that—he was hard. And he was trying to hide it.

“B-but, you also showed me something else the other time. Wouldn’t be that the same?”

He sighs. “Baby, you ain’t comin’ here dressed like that, bringing me cherry pie and asking me to give you sex ed.”

“Y’know I ain’t got anyone else.” You pout—maybe that’ll help. “And besides, you told me to come to you whenever I needed something right?”

“Christ,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. “Just can tell you how it’s done, yea? Nothin’ more.”

You hesitate. Hearing it out loud would be more awkward than him simply showing you. His eyes leave no room for choice, so you give a small nod.

“Comin’ here asking me how to blow someone.” He shakes his head, in disbelief.

“Heyyy, Joel—I don’t know how else to learn okey? I don’t want to embarrass myself.” You whine.

“S’fine.” He grumbles under his breath, sitting up straight. “Y’start by teasing.”

His eyes land on your tits.

“Show ‘em. Every boy will appreciate it.”

Your cheeks flush red.

“Then you get on those pretty knees. Take it out, give it some love.”

You ask, curious. “How do I give it some love?”

“Can’t serve everything on a silver spoon can I?” Grumpy, annoyed—making you amused. The pout from earlier starts to form again, you give him a pleading look.

He sighs once again. “Give kisses first. From top to bottom. Stroke gently.” And you notice how the tip of his ears are red.

“And the rest is pretty much self explanatory, ain’t it sweetheart?”

You look at him, the curiosity not letting up. As if you had no clue of the world, wanting him to explain it to you in every single detail. And you were so amused at how flushed and annoyed he was getting.

“God damn, girl. Open them lips, wrap them around and go up and down.”

“How fast?”

“Just how fast that person likes.” He shruggs.

“How do I know how fast that person likes it?” And it’s laughable at how dumb you were making yourself seem, but seeing him grip the pillow over his crotch tighter, his cheeks flushed and sweat dripping from his forehead—it was worth every single second.

“I let my girls know when I gather their hair in my palm and push them faster down.”

Your breath hitches, his girls.

“Then I buck my hips into their mouth,” he continues.

All this time, you thought Joel was a miserable, lonely man with no relationships whatsoever. Embarrassment washes over you as you think about how you believed you were the only one he liked—and that when he fingered you, you were special. You came here to get educated—no, you came here to seduce him. And that was the plain truth.

“Got that in your pretty little head?” He asks you, suddenly pinching your chin between his fingers and making you look at him.

You wanted him to push your head down and buck his hips against you.

“Not really.”

“You’re getting on my last nerves.” He grumbles before putting the pillow away and revealing his bulge. Your eyes land on it, as he zips down his pants, looking at you. His eyes darkening.

“C’mon. That brain of yours had to take some sort of information, right?”

His eyes land on your tits.

You quickly nod, pushing your crop top up quicky, revealing your breasts to him. You hear a groan leaving his chest, then a chuckle.

“Good, that’s what I like to see.” His hand finds your chest, fingers squeezing, then pinching your nipple. “Now what do we do?”

“Get on my knees.”

“Atta girl. Get on those knees.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice when you slide down the couch and kneel in front of his bulge. Nodding, he gently pulls his hard one out of his boxers.

You almost start to drool at the sight.

He was so big. And he was pulsing. Red mushroom head, precum dribbling from the slit and decorated with veins from bottom to top.

“Now, what did we say?” He asks, his hand gently pumping himself up and down, while your eyes follow.

“Give it some love.”

Your hands shakily grab his cock, looking small compared to his length. Stroking up and down, looking up to him with doe eyes and placing kisses on every inch while you listen to Joels groans.

“That’s it.” He gathers your hair into his palm, forming a loose ponytail to keep it from falling in your face. “A man should always do this, yea? Not let you do all the work.”

Your cheeks heat up again, his eyes lock into yours as you nod. There was a warmth spreading inside your panties. You had already difficulties taking his fingers last time, you wonder how it’ll be if you took his cock.

“Wanna take him into my mouth.” You mumble.

He coos. “‘course ya do. C’mon then. Show me how good you listened.”

“Up and down.” You nod. “Hm, up and down, that’s right.” He answers.

You open your lips, hand gently stroking up and down his dick. Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip, hearing him shudder in response.

You try different things out. Swirling around, getting deeper, pulling out and giving small kitten licks. All the while Joel groans your name, and without noticing, your ponytail wrapped in his fist, he moves your head—slow, deliberate—up and down his length.

“Just like that. Y’learning fast.”

The pleasure in your abdomen getting unbearable. You feel yourself soaking through your panties as you start grinding your hips against the heel of your foot.

“Would ya look at that.” He chuckles, his hand going faster.

And as Joel’s movements get messier, he dives your head down until a gag rises sharp in your throat. You cough, and he pulls out quickly, watching your face closely.

“Deep breaths, deep breaths, baby.” He carefully tries to calm you down, and while you try to breath normal again, he starts apologising: “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That should’ve not happen. Got too lost in the pleasure.”

“S’okey.” You smile lazily to him, drool hanging from the sides of your face, lips swollen red. You looked too beautiful for your own damn good right now. And Joel wants nothing more to take you right then and there.

“I think that’s enough for today. You already learned how to use your mouth. I’m sure you’ll do good.”

Disappointment washes down your face. You sit there looking up to him with pleading eyes. The throbbing in your cunt unbearable and the urge to take care of him way too big.

He slips the edge of his shirt over his thumb and brushes the drool from your mouth, slow and careful.

“Pretty girl. You let that boy treat you well, yea? Or else.” He mumbles, but your eyes are only on his wet, aching cock.

The boy was forgotten, and Joel could see it in your hazy, fucked-out eyes. You were needy—needy to be touched—and he wished he could just take you, right on his couch. But he made that mistake once. He couldn’t let it happen again.

You move before you even realize it, climbing onto his lap and settling on one of his thighs. His hard cock grazes your skin, and he takes his time looking at you—your lips, your tits.

“Oh angel, we can’t.” A breath leaves his mouth.

You lean in and start kissing him—his cheek, his neck—fingers stroking through his hair as you suckle on his collarbones. His hands find your waist, gripping tight. One hand cups your breast, pinching your nipple. And before you even realize it, your hips are grinding against his thigh.

“Why?” You ask, laying your head against his chest, moving your hips in a slow rhythm.

“I would ruin you.” He answers, “And people in this town would kill us.”

“But you’re just teachin’ me something. Nobody has to know.”

A groan leaves his lips when your hands wrap around his cock, gently stroking up and down.

“That so?”

“Hm”, you nod. “Y’still need to teach me how to take cock.”

“Jesus christ, sweetheart. When did ya get so bold, huh?”

And you want to say ‘when you left me with aching for more’ but you don’t. Instead, you focus on the pleasures building in your tummy. Grinding harder against the rough fabric of his jeans, and a whimper slipping from your lips.

Suddenly, Joel mumbles a “fuck it,” then follows with, “Pull your pants and panties down. Now.” He demands it—and you do just that, standing up and tugging everything down.

“But you ain’t gonna complain if it hurts.” His hands pull you back into his lap, making you sit down again. “All this begging and then complaining about it hurting would be pathetic, girl.”

“C’mere. You’re wet enough.” One hand touches your folds, the other holding his cock. You buckle up, his tip gliding over your folds as you release a breath.

You gently and slowly, sink down.

“Easy, easy, babygirl.” He helps you. Squeezing your hips and guiding you through. A cry leaving your lips when you fully sit down. His length stretching you, touching places you’ve never even felt before.

“S’big, yea? That’s a mans cock, baby. Not gonna gave that much satisfaction when you ride that boy.”

Your head falls to his shoulder, biting down, clenching on his cock. “So big.” A whimper falling from your lips.

“Oh I know, I know.” He whispers. “But you’ll take it, baby. Still need to teach you, don’t I?” He says it playfully. Joel knows the boy is long gone from your mind—and that you came here for one thing: to get fucked by him. There’s no denying it.

He shifts underneath you, gripping you by your thighs and thrusts two times up, leaving you breathless.

“Good?”

“Mhm. More.” And he doesn’t need to hear that twice. He starts giving you quick thrusts, altering between deep and slow, while your moans fill the room.

Your hands grip his shirt, looking at him, his eyebrows furrowed, concentrating, rough breaths leaving his mouth. Tits start to bounce up and down, while he pumps in and out of your squelching cunt.

“Ain’t the one I used to be, girl—help that old man, will you? Start moving your hips.” He groans.

Your body almost limb from the pleasure, starts moving at his request. Going up and down, circling. His hands guiding you, helping you. Biting your lips, whines filling the quiet room and as Joels body suddenly shudders, you feel it.

His cum pumping you. Spurt after spurt, filling you to the brim.

You whimper, looking down, seeing drops of cum escaping your pussy.

“Oh, that’s a good girl.” He coos. “Tightest fuckin’ cunt i’ve ever had. Made me cum in no time.”

And you’re still aching for more.

“Could’ve just go to him.” You shrug. “He would’ve at least lasted longer.”

Joel looks at you with widen eyes. The relief after his orgasm completely gone, his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushing red. Not with shame or embarrassment.

But anger.

Without a word, he grabs your hips and forces you down onto the couch beside him. Your eyes widen, hands clutching his neck as he looms over you.

“Joel, what are you doing?” You ask, with no answer. Instead, he spreads your legs and grabs his cock.

He glances down, noticing he’s still soft. After a few frustrated strokes, he mutters, “God dammit.”

You giggle.

“Find that funny, huh?” He asks and you can’t even answer before he fills you with two of his fingers, a yelp leaving your lips. “Still got my fingers, baby.”

“Joel..” You squeeze your eyes shut when he curls them, his thick fingers going in and out of you.

“M’right here, angel. Y’think that boy of yours can reach those spots huh?”

And the spots he reaches are indescribable. Your mouth falls open when he hits your g-spot over and over again. Your legs start to shake, as you feel yourself getting close.

“Look at that, y’let me cum in you so well.” He whispers, looking at the ring of sperm build around his fingers whenever he pulls them out of your cunt.

“Joeljoeljoel.” With that you clench down his fingers, hips bucking, tummy clenching, you come around his fingers with a big cry.

Before you can even come down, he’s filling you again—his cock sliding in. The stretch feels good this time, and you clutch his shoulders as he murmurs your name. Your sensitive walls tighten around him, his length still a bit soft but just firm enough to push deep.

“Takin’ it so so good, baby.” He gently whispers in your ear. His lips latch into your neck, kissing and biting. Your moans start to fill the room again, as his thrusts begin in a quick rhythm.

“Feels good, feels so good.” You whimper, and squirm around. “I know it does, I know. That boy may last longer, but he won’t give you a reason for your pussy to be swollen red.” He looks down at your cunt while saying, a thumb landing on your clit.

You can’t even listen to him as the pleasure grows in your tummy once again. “M’gonna cum, please.”

“Good, c’mon then.”

His thumb speeds up at your clit, your leg falls from the couch because of the hard thrusts. Your hands grip impossibly tight to his shoulders.

“Gonna fill you up again, show this whole town who you belong to, yea?” Your eyes get wide at that, making him chuckle. His thrusts growing sloppier and sloppier.

“Joel, please.”

“Shh, s’okey. Cum with me, baby.” And you do.

You let go. This time, it’s harder than any orgasm you’ve ever had. Your mouth falls open, silent, as Joel gives you two more hard thrusts before spilling inside you—filling you up again, his release dripping onto the couch beneath you.

He kisses your temple, your nose, your forehead while you come down. His breathing is still hard and deep just like yours, softly coming down from the hard orgasms you two just had.

He pulls out, sits up slightly and watches as his cum oozes out of you.

“Christ, all filled up aren’t you?” His fingers wander to your slit, then he gathers the cum that drips out of your hole and pushes it in with two of his fingers.

With all the exhaustion, you can only whimper.

He thrusts them in and out, thumb gently landing on your clit, just slightly grazing it and making you shudder because of the sensitivity.

“No boy, yea? You’re mine. And if that takes, that’ll prove it.” He looks at you, furrowed eyebrows. And you nod your head softly, limbs to weak to function as you lay on his couch filled to the brim while his fingers are still working inside of you.

The next orgasm rolls in quietly, soft and fleeting—just enough to leave you relaxed and sleepy. Joel lets out a quiet chuckle, then pulls you close by the waist and shoulder. You nestle your head against his shoulder, and he kisses your forehead with quiet affection.

“God damn, y’need to bring me more often pie, sweetheart.”

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 just need that old man so bad…

Taglist: @vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @kyloispunk @marisemonteiroo @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @lovelystrawberrysblog @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @brittmb115 @xcallmetaniax @umadirectioner @millersweetheart @wildthyng @armandispunk

[littledes1re]

Cherry pie

Pairing: Oldman!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: After countless dates with a boy, you know that next time you’re going to sleep with him. But you’re way too inexperienced. So what better way is there than showing up at Joel Miller’s door with cherry pie in hand, and asking if he’s willing to help you out?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, oldman!joel, dom!joel, both reader and Joel are kinda unhinged, slight pervy!joel, tiny bit of mean!joel but he is a softie, cheating (also not? bc reader is not together with that boy), inexperienced!reader, girthy age gap! (61 and 24), praise kink, slight degradation, breeding kink (?), oral m!receiving, pinv, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, fingering, riding, size kink, outbreak, tiny bit of thigh riding

A/N: oh my gosh that old, dirty man is back at it again. I missed him, I hope yall did too😌

Your fingers tapped nervously on the plate beneath the cherry pie. The sweet scent was almost unbearable, but giving up wasn’t an option—not after that time you spent searching for ingredients outside of Jackson.

The sun dipped low behind the trees and it was nearly evening. The timing was perfect for some pie, and you were sure Joel would love it.

His house sat on the quieter edge of Jackson, marked by a ‘Miller’ mailbox, a wooden porch, and a dried-out garden. (You couldn’t blame him though, he was working way too hard to keep up with his garden.)

Three knocks.

“Hi.” You greeted him, a smile tugging on your lips. His eyebrows quickly furrowed—just as you know him. Joel looked exhausted. His green flannel dirty, hair messy and dirt stained boots. He just came back from work.

“Whatcha doin’, girl?” His voice hoarse, deep. Sending shivers down your spine.

And you knew this was a bad idea. Heck, asking Joel—your mentor, your teacher and someone who took care of you countless times—to show you how to give someone a blowjob was embarrassing.

But you didn’t know how else to learn. You were way too inexperienced—no enough friends to ask, no porn, no education in this town.

And after your last time, having to interrupt a heavy make out session with that one boy who works at the day care, you needed desperate help for next time.

“Bought you cherry pie.”

His eyes lingered over the pie for a moment, then landed on your body—following the curve of your skin up and down, lingering far too long on the red crop top you were wearing.

“Made me pie, eh? It’s cold outside. Come on in.” He opened his door wide, a hand coming to the small of your back and letting you in—lingering a bit longer than usual.

From the inside, his house was cosier—the last bits of sunlight spilling from the windows, painting everything into a golden haze. His furniture, old and rugged like him, was scattered with soft pillows and a few photos here and there. And of course, his beloved wooden carved animals, carefully crafted, sat in every corner, quietly collecting dust.

You carefully place the pie on his kitchen counter, nervously biting the inside of your cheek.

Joel already pulls out two forks, one for you and one for him. “Now what do we have here.”

You knew he adored your pies. Sometimes you’d bake him two or even three, and he’d devour every last bite—but only after he’d done something in return. Whether it was fixing something around your apartment or bringing you something from patrol, there was always a little exchange involved.

“What’s the matter with you? Why the face?” he asks, and your heart leaps, suddenly remembering why you came. He already took a generous bite of cherry pie, a smear of filling resting messily at the corner of his mouth.

“Just—uhm. Can you do me a little favor?”

“A favor? Should’ve known. Y’never bring that old man pie without wanting any favors.”

You giggle quietly, also taking a bite of pie.

“What is it this time, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

The first time he called you that was when you were together on patrol. He taught you how to use a sniper, his hand landing gently on your shoulder, squeezing softly when you did well. Or when you helped him fix your light—tools in your hand, his voice calling you a good girl when you handed him the right ones.

Or when he had you creaming around his fingers. After giving him his pie, quietly, on your couch. Leaving small kisses on your neck, the other hand rubbing your nipples through your shirt, telling you how good you are for him.

And a ‘this can’t happen again.’ leaving you with wanting more.

So, you weren’t sure if you were here because of that boy or because of Joel. Because, admittedly, you have been aching for his touch since then.

“Cat got ya tongue?” He interrupts your thoughts with a quick snap of fingers. “My back is fuckin’ killing me. Let’s sit down on the couch, then you can tell me about that little favour of yours.”

Before you can answer him, he pulls out two plates, carefully puts one slice for you and two slices for himself, and then walks to his living room with them.

You take a deep breath.

Walking into the living room, you see him sitting there—already one of the slices gone—as he starts on the other. You gently make your way to him, sitting down next to him. He takes his fork with pie and brings it to your mouth, making you giggle and take it, a coo leaving his lips.

“C’mon, say it,” he urges, nudging you. Your mind spins with all the ways this could end.

Either he’ll react well—just as you know him—and help you, or he’ll make you leave his house and never contact him again.

You start, “So there is a boy.” And you can see him clenching his jaw tight, fork leaving his hand as his eyebrows furrow.

“That so?”

“Mhm. And I—I don’t know how to ask you this but—“

You look down, your fingers fidgeting with each other, heart thudding in your chest like it’s about to break out.

“Spit it out, kid.” He sighs, sets the plate down, and turns his body toward you—making it now impossibly more difficult for you.

“I—I want to do things with him. But i’m kinda too inexperienced.” Your cheek heat up while you’re talking, your gaze falls down not wanting to look into his disturbed face. The air in the room now feeling impossibly thick.

After an awkward silence you peak up to Joel, who is just looking at you. You can’t tell if it’s disbelief or disgust. Or maybe something in between.

“Jesus christ, girl.” He mutters out. “And what do you want me to do? Hold your hand while you’re getting dicked down?”

Your eyes widen, a gasp leaving your lips at his wording.

“Oh my god—no, no. That’s not what I meant.” Well, what you meant might be just a little bit worse than what he interpreted it as.

“Just—ya know…maybe show me how to give a blo—“

“Nah.” He interrupts you swiftly, shaking his head. “Not happenin’”

You sigh, defeated. Not only did you feel embarrassed, but you probably just ruined your almost perfect relationship with him. Joel took a pillow, mumbling something under his breath, and placed it over his lap. Your eyes perked up at that—he was hard. And he was trying to hide it.

“B-but, you also showed me something else the other time. Wouldn’t be that the same?”

He sighs. “Baby, you ain’t comin’ here dressed like that, bringing me cherry pie and asking me to give you sex ed.”

“Y’know I ain’t got anyone else.” You pout—maybe that’ll help. “And besides, you told me to come to you whenever I needed something right?”

“Christ,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. “Just can tell you how it’s done, yea? Nothin’ more.”

You hesitate. Hearing it out loud would be more awkward than him simply showing you. His eyes leave no room for choice, so you give a small nod.

“Comin’ here asking me how to blow someone.” He shakes his head, in disbelief.

“Heyyy, Joel—I don’t know how else to learn okey? I don’t want to embarrass myself.” You whine.

“S’fine.” He grumbles under his breath, sitting up straight. “Y’start by teasing.”

His eyes land on your tits.

“Show ‘em. Every boy will appreciate it.”

Your cheeks flush red.

“Then you get on those pretty knees. Take it out, give it some love.”

You ask, curious. “How do I give it some love?”

“Can’t serve everything on a silver spoon can I?” Grumpy, annoyed—making you amused. The pout from earlier starts to form again, you give him a pleading look.

He sighs once again. “Give kisses first. From top to bottom. Stroke gently.” And you notice how the tip of his ears are red.

“And the rest is pretty much self explanatory, ain’t it sweetheart?”

You look at him, the curiosity not letting up. As if you had no clue of the world, wanting him to explain it to you in every single detail. And you were so amused at how flushed and annoyed he was getting.

“God damn, girl. Open them lips, wrap them around and go up and down.”

“How fast?”

“Just how fast that person likes.” He shruggs.

“How do I know how fast that person likes it?” And it’s laughable at how dumb you were making yourself seem, but seeing him grip the pillow over his crotch tighter, his cheeks flushed and sweat dripping from his forehead—it was worth every single second.

“I let my girls know when I gather their hair in my palm and push them faster down.”

Your breath hitches, his girls.

“Then I buck my hips into their mouth,” he continues.

All this time, you thought Joel was a miserable, lonely man with no relationships whatsoever. Embarrassment washes over you as you think about how you believed you were the only one he liked—and that when he fingered you, you were special. You came here to get educated—no, you came here to seduce him. And that was the plain truth.

“Got that in your pretty little head?” He asks you, suddenly pinching your chin between his fingers and making you look at him.

You wanted him to push your head down and buck his hips against you.

“Not really.”

“You’re getting on my last nerves.” He grumbles before putting the pillow away and revealing his bulge. Your eyes land on it, as he zips down his pants, looking at you. His eyes darkening.

“C’mon. That brain of yours had to take some sort of information, right?”

His eyes land on your tits.

You quickly nod, pushing your crop top up quicky, revealing your breasts to him. You hear a groan leaving his chest, then a chuckle.

“Good, that’s what I like to see.” His hand finds your chest, fingers squeezing, then pinching your nipple. “Now what do we do?”

“Get on my knees.”

“Atta girl. Get on those knees.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice when you slide down the couch and kneel in front of his bulge. Nodding, he gently pulls his hard one out of his boxers.

You almost start to drool at the sight.

He was so big. And he was pulsing. Red mushroom head, precum dribbling from the slit and decorated with veins from bottom to top.

“Now, what did we say?” He asks, his hand gently pumping himself up and down, while your eyes follow.

“Give it some love.”

Your hands shakily grab his cock, looking small compared to his length. Stroking up and down, looking up to him with doe eyes and placing kisses on every inch while you listen to Joels groans.

“That’s it.” He gathers your hair into his palm, forming a loose ponytail to keep it from falling in your face. “A man should always do this, yea? Not let you do all the work.”

Your cheeks heat up again, his eyes lock into yours as you nod. There was a warmth spreading inside your panties. You had already difficulties taking his fingers last time, you wonder how it’ll be if you took his cock.

“Wanna take him into my mouth.” You mumble.

He coos. “‘course ya do. C’mon then. Show me how good you listened.”

“Up and down.” You nod. “Hm, up and down, that’s right.” He answers.

You open your lips, hand gently stroking up and down his dick. Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip, hearing him shudder in response.

You try different things out. Swirling around, getting deeper, pulling out and giving small kitten licks. All the while Joel groans your name, and without noticing, your ponytail wrapped in his fist, he moves your head—slow, deliberate—up and down his length.

“Just like that. Y’learning fast.”

The pleasure in your abdomen getting unbearable. You feel yourself soaking through your panties as you start grinding your hips against the heel of your foot.

“Would ya look at that.” He chuckles, his hand going faster.

And as Joel’s movements get messier, he dives your head down until a gag rises sharp in your throat. You cough, and he pulls out quickly, watching your face closely.

“Deep breaths, deep breaths, baby.” He carefully tries to calm you down, and while you try to breath normal again, he starts apologising: “I’m sorry, sweetheart. That should’ve not happen. Got too lost in the pleasure.”

“S’okey.” You smile lazily to him, drool hanging from the sides of your face, lips swollen red. You looked too beautiful for your own damn good right now. And Joel wants nothing more to take you right then and there.

“I think that’s enough for today. You already learned how to use your mouth. I’m sure you’ll do good.”

Disappointment washes down your face. You sit there looking up to him with pleading eyes. The throbbing in your cunt unbearable and the urge to take care of him way too big.

He slips the edge of his shirt over his thumb and brushes the drool from your mouth, slow and careful.

“Pretty girl. You let that boy treat you well, yea? Or else.” He mumbles, but your eyes are only on his wet, aching cock.

The boy was forgotten, and Joel could see it in your hazy, fucked-out eyes. You were needy—needy to be touched—and he wished he could just take you, right on his couch. But he made that mistake once. He couldn’t let it happen again.

You move before you even realize it, climbing onto his lap and settling on one of his thighs. His hard cock grazes your skin, and he takes his time looking at you—your lips, your tits.

“Oh angel, we can’t.” A breath leaves his mouth.

You lean in and start kissing him—his cheek, his neck—fingers stroking through his hair as you suckle on his collarbones. His hands find your waist, gripping tight. One hand cups your breast, pinching your nipple. And before you even realize it, your hips are grinding against his thigh.

“Why?” You ask, laying your head against his chest, moving your hips in a slow rhythm.

“I would ruin you.” He answers, “And people in this town would kill us.”

“But you’re just teachin’ me something. Nobody has to know.”

A groan leaves his lips when your hands wrap around his cock, gently stroking up and down.

“That so?”

“Hm”, you nod. “Y’still need to teach me how to take cock.”

“Jesus christ, sweetheart. When did ya get so bold, huh?”

And you want to say ‘when you left me with aching for more’ but you don’t. Instead, you focus on the pleasures building in your tummy. Grinding harder against the rough fabric of his jeans, and a whimper slipping from your lips.

Suddenly, Joel mumbles a “fuck it,” then follows with, “Pull your pants and panties down. Now.” He demands it—and you do just that, standing up and tugging everything down.

“But you ain’t gonna complain if it hurts.” His hands pull you back into his lap, making you sit down again. “All this begging and then complaining about it hurting would be pathetic, girl.”

“C’mere. You’re wet enough.” One hand touches your folds, the other holding his cock. You buckle up, his tip gliding over your folds as you release a breath.

You gently and slowly, sink down.

“Easy, easy, babygirl.” He helps you. Squeezing your hips and guiding you through. A cry leaving your lips when you fully sit down. His length stretching you, touching places you’ve never even felt before.

“S’big, yea? That’s a mans cock, baby. Not gonna gave that much satisfaction when you ride that boy.”

Your head falls to his shoulder, biting down, clenching on his cock. “So big.” A whimper falling from your lips.

“Oh I know, I know.” He whispers. “But you’ll take it, baby. Still need to teach you, don’t I?” He says it playfully. Joel knows the boy is long gone from your mind—and that you came here for one thing: to get fucked by him. There’s no denying it.

He shifts underneath you, gripping you by your thighs and thrusts two times up, leaving you breathless.

“Good?”

“Mhm. More.” And he doesn’t need to hear that twice. He starts giving you quick thrusts, altering between deep and slow, while your moans fill the room.

Your hands grip his shirt, looking at him, his eyebrows furrowed, concentrating, rough breaths leaving his mouth. Tits start to bounce up and down, while he pumps in and out of your squelching cunt.

“Ain’t the one I used to be, girl—help that old man, will you? Start moving your hips.” He groans.

Your body almost limb from the pleasure, starts moving at his request. Going up and down, circling. His hands guiding you, helping you. Biting your lips, whines filling the quiet room and as Joels body suddenly shudders, you feel it.

His cum pumping you. Spurt after spurt, filling you to the brim.

You whimper, looking down, seeing drops of cum escaping your pussy.

“Oh, that’s a good girl.” He coos. “Tightest fuckin’ cunt i’ve ever had. Made me cum in no time.”

And you’re still aching for more.

“Could’ve just go to him.” You shrug. “He would’ve at least lasted longer.”

Joel looks at you with widen eyes. The relief after his orgasm completely gone, his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushing red. Not with shame or embarrassment.

But anger.

Without a word, he grabs your hips and forces you down onto the couch beside him. Your eyes widen, hands clutching his neck as he looms over you.

“Joel, what are you doing?” You ask, with no answer. Instead, he spreads your legs and grabs his cock.

He glances down, noticing he’s still soft. After a few frustrated strokes, he mutters, “God dammit.”

You giggle.

“Find that funny, huh?” He asks and you can’t even answer before he fills you with two of his fingers, a yelp leaving your lips. “Still got my fingers, baby.”

“Joel..” You squeeze your eyes shut when he curls them, his thick fingers going in and out of you.

“M’right here, angel. Y’think that boy of yours can reach those spots huh?”

And the spots he reaches are indescribable. Your mouth falls open when he hits your g-spot over and over again. Your legs start to shake, as you feel yourself getting close.

“Look at that, y’let me cum in you so well.” He whispers, looking at the ring of sperm build around his fingers whenever he pulls them out of your cunt.

“Joeljoeljoel.” With that you clench down his fingers, hips bucking, tummy clenching, you come around his fingers with a big cry.

Before you can even come down, he’s filling you again—his cock sliding in. The stretch feels good this time, and you clutch his shoulders as he murmurs your name. Your sensitive walls tighten around him, his length still a bit soft but just firm enough to push deep.

“Takin’ it so so good, baby.” He gently whispers in your ear. His lips latch into your neck, kissing and biting. Your moans start to fill the room again, as his thrusts begin in a quick rhythm.

“Feels good, feels so good.” You whimper, and squirm around. “I know it does, I know. That boy may last longer, but he won’t give you a reason for your pussy to be swollen red.” He looks down at your cunt while saying, a thumb landing on your clit.

You can’t even listen to him as the pleasure grows in your tummy once again. “M’gonna cum, please.”

“Good, c’mon then.”

His thumb speeds up at your clit, your leg falls from the couch because of the hard thrusts. Your hands grip impossibly tight to his shoulders.

“Gonna fill you up again, show this whole town who you belong to, yea?” Your eyes get wide at that, making him chuckle. His thrusts growing sloppier and sloppier.

“Joel, please.”

“Shh, s’okey. Cum with me, baby.” And you do.

You let go. This time, it’s harder than any orgasm you’ve ever had. Your mouth falls open, silent, as Joel gives you two more hard thrusts before spilling inside you—filling you up again, his release dripping onto the couch beneath you.

He kisses your temple, your nose, your forehead while you come down. His breathing is still hard and deep just like yours, softly coming down from the hard orgasms you two just had.

He pulls out, sits up slightly and watches as his cum oozes out of you.

“Christ, all filled up aren’t you?” His fingers wander to your slit, then he gathers the cum that drips out of your hole and pushes it in with two of his fingers.

With all the exhaustion, you can only whimper.

He thrusts them in and out, thumb gently landing on your clit, just slightly grazing it and making you shudder because of the sensitivity.

“No boy, yea? You’re mine. And if that takes, that’ll prove it.” He looks at you, furrowed eyebrows. And you nod your head softly, limbs to weak to function as you lay on his couch filled to the brim while his fingers are still working inside of you.

The next orgasm rolls in quietly, soft and fleeting—just enough to leave you relaxed and sleepy. Joel lets out a quiet chuckle, then pulls you close by the waist and shoulder. You nestle your head against his shoulder, and he kisses your forehead with quiet affection.

“God damn, y’need to bring me more often pie, sweetheart.”

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 just need that old man so bad…

Taglist: @vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @kyloispunk @marisemonteiroo @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @lovelystrawberrysblog @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @brittmb115 @xcallmetaniax @umadirectioner @millersweetheart @wildthyng @armandispunk

[littledes1re]

Do you support pro ships if yes let me know so I can unfollow you.

Someone explain to me what pro ships are then I can tell you😀

[littledes1re]

someone tell me this isn’t the most rideable man you’ve ever seen like pls I’ll be ur stress source AND relief

[littledes1re]

- Heartbreak and Nostalgia -

Summary: Its your birthday and even though you and Joel are broken up, he gives you a gift. No warnings

a/n: So it’s random, I had a dream of being at this consolecon where I got to play all my fav games as a kid and thought, it was such a sweet dream, amma write a fic. Including Mr Miller of course, I’d love to see him play street fighter of something 😂

The first snowfall of the season always made Jackson feel quieter than usual. But today, the silence clawed at Joel’s insides worse than a blizzard ever could.

He sat hunched over in his shed, elbows on his knees, the worn Nintendo console resting on the table in front of him. It was an old SNES, buttons dulled, the plastic yellowed but it worked now. He’d made damn sure of that.

Jesse had found it on patrol a month back,“Figured it’d be junk,” he said. Joel had taken one look at it and told him to hand it over.

Because you had loved these old things. You once told him about playing Super Mario with your cousins when you were a kid. About the weird joy of blowing into the cartridges and praying the screen would flicker to life. You said it with a kind of distant warmth he rarely saw in you, wistful, like you were still holding onto something soft in a world built of broken glass.

He wanted to give it to you for your birthday.

But that was before the fight.

Before he said things, he couldn’t take back.

-|-

“You always think caring is enough,” you’d shouted, voice tight with the kind of pain that comes from too many built-up silences. “But you shut down when things get hard. You don’t let anyone in until they’re already gone!”

And Joel, in his damn stubborn pride, had answered: “You knew what you were gettin’ with me, you knew it weren’t gonna be no fairytale. Look at us, we’re both a mess.”

That had been the end of it.

You left, no slamming the door. Just that quiet click behind you like a nail in the coffin.

-|-

Now, Joel stood outside your cabin, the cold biting at his knuckles through his gloves. The wrapped bundle in his hand felt heavier.

He didn’t expect you to answer the door. Didn’t even expect you to look him in the eye. But when it creaked open, you were there, arms folded, eyes shadowed with caution.

“Hey,” he said, voice gruff from disuse.

You said nothing for a second. Then “What are you doing here?”

Joel shifted, uncomfortable under your gaze. “It’s your birthday.”

You arched a brow. “And you thought that means something now?”

He nodded, just once, took the bundle from under his coat and held it out.

“I was fixin’ it for you before we… ended,” he said. “Ain’t tryin’ to make this right with just a gift. Just thought you oughta have it.”

You didn’t take it.

“What is it?”

“One of those SNES things. Jesse found it. Took some work, but it runs. Found a couple games too, ones you mentioned.”

You looked down at the flannel bundle. Then up at him. There was something glassy in your eyes, but not tears — not yet. Just the kind of pain that had been left too long without air.

“You never said you were sorry,” you said.

Joel’s jaw clenched.

“I know,” he rasped. “Wasn’t ‘cause I didn’t feel it. Just… I was ashamed, didn’t know how to say it in a way you’d believe.”

You opened the door a little wider, not enough to invite him in, but enough to let him see the small woodstove flickering behind you.

“I don’t want this to be another thing you do to patch over what you broke,” you said, voice low. “I don’t want an apology wrapped in nostalgia.”

Joel nodded slowly. He set the bundle down on your porch, carefully, like he was placing a memory instead of a machine.

“I’ll leave it here, then.”

He turned to go.

But then, quiet, almost too quiet you said

“I did miss you, ya know. Even thiugh I hated you.”

Joel paused, hands fisted at his sides.

“I didn’t stop lovin’ you,” he said without turning around. “Even when I didn’t deserve you.”

Silence stretched between you, suffocating, weightless.

When he finally walked away, you let the door close again. You didn’t pick up the console right away.

But later that night, after the stove had warmed the room and the wind had quieted, you did. You sat on the floor, cradling it in your lap, and found a cartridge tucked inside the wrapping — Super Mario Bros.

And when the console flickered to life for the first time in decades, you smiled.

Not because it fixed anything.

But because even when Joel couldn’t say the words, he’d always know how to build something that lasted.

Even if this time, it wasn’t him.

[littledes1re]

PROFESSOR REED RICHARDS FUCK ME PLEASEEEEEEEE

[littledes1re]

Awe thank you so much, i’m glad you liked it🫶🏻🫶🏻���

@/coffeeguitar | Masterlist

Pairing: Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: After the loss of your father—your best friend—you create an account on the Message Heaven: Lonely Hearts Group forum, hoping to find someone to talk to. Joel Miller, a middle-aged man who lost his daughter and happens to be obsessed with coffee, writes to you. From the very first message, it feels like something just clicks between you.

Warnings: Very fluffy, kissing, slight Angst, Grief, No outbreak, Age Gap! (50s and 20s)

Chapters → Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five

More coming soon! If you have Ideas for this series, they are welcome in my Inbox! <3

If you want to be tagged, please let me know!

Idea originally by @glitterspark <3

[littledes1re]

That’s big dick energy.

[littledes1re]

delicacy

Joel Miller x f!reader

tags: pussy eating, pussy worship, pussy fingering, pussy pronouns, pussy everything; 650 words read and leave kudos on ao3

“Fuck, I missed eating pussy.” He was growling in you, the eyes half closed like he wanted to fully give into the taste, but also couldn’t miss a moment of your body trembling under him. The sweat slicked skin of your belly rising and falling erratically as he sucked on your clit, and teased the slick bud with the tip of his tongue.

Sweat dripped down your face, the salty evidence of your tension stinging your eye as you tried to make eye contact with the man. He had that same hungry look on him in the bar. He tipped the glass of whiskey down his throat without breaking eye contact with you and you knew you’d be taking him home before you even knew his name. ‘Joel,’ he introduced himself, ‘what do I have to do to make you leave with me?’

Less that forty minutes and a car ride with his massive hand in your panties later, he was spread eagle-ing you on your bed. His knees dug into the plush of your carpet and you hoped he didn’t notice the pair of socks you threw under the bed yesterday. He dove right into you, being so impatient with ripping your thighs apart it almost hurt. His death grip didn’t let you budge, and he tore your panties off before you could yelp a single objection. 

Never had a man been so desperate to give you head. You could swear you had seen his wet tongue peeking out before he even made contact with your skin. His nostrils flared as he inhaled your smell, grazing his teeth over the tender spot where your inner thigh met your pussy. 

“Fuck,” Joel sounded as if he was shaking, his voice rippling against your swollen folds. His thumbs spread you apart, opening every slick part of you to his greedy eyes. “The prettiest sight a man’s eyes can see. So soft,” his tongue licked up from your hole and he placed a little kiss on your clit, “so delicious.”

Honesty in Joel’s voice drove you to the edge faster than his tongue did. Gently, he pushed two fingers in your hole and curled them, rubbing against the sweet spot. He wanted to keep telling you how much he wanted that unique taste running down his throat, how the twitches of your clit against his tongue got him painfully hard in his jeans. But he was too busy rubbing your sensitive nub with all the loyalty he had for a sweet pussy like yours. 

“I– I’m close,” you stuttered, your hands finding Joel’s hair and pressing him firmer into you. He just moaned, allowing you this power over him, letting you all but rut your pussy over his face. The coarse bristles of his beard felt like needles on your raw flesh but you couldn’t stop. He stuck his tongue out, letting you slide your clit over it while still having his fingers deep in your pussy. Joel softly guided you with those two fingers, feeling your walls flutter as you came. He took his fingers out replacing them with his tongue to get the most of your taste. When the man looked up from between your thighs, his lips were glistening wet and your legs were shaking. 

“Good God,” you breathed out with a jittery laugh, “you gotta give me a minute if you want me to ride you, big boy.”

Joel smiled, wiping the remnants of your wetness off his chin and licking his finger.  “I’m not moving until I drink you up whole, baby, so don’t rush to sit up. The most you can do is turn around so I can eat her from behind.”

A loud wet clap made your breath hitch and you felt a nice sting where he slapped your thigh. It was going to be a deliciously long night.

[littledes1re]

King shitttt

[littledes1re]

You say that every time

Summary: Joel gives you what you want in the warmth of his bed. You promise him it's the the last time and in trying to return the favour, you find it really might be..

Warnings: Smut, Angst, joel miller being joel miller!! Adult themes and whatnot. Age gap, infidelity, vaginal fingering, clit play, slight description of what i guesss would be subspace?? Joel in emotion turmoil- poor guy wont follow his heart. Very much setting up for a part three🙂‍↕️

Part one Masterlist. Words: 2k

"Please Joel, make it go away.."

The words are quiet in the dim light, Joel's fingers tightening just a fraction on your hip. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough for you to feel the tension roll from him. The way his body tenses behind you.

The hand you had placed on your lower belly ridgid and still. Fingertips barley pressing again your skin. "Cmon baby.." he drawls, clearing his throat with a soft groan. "M' not your boyfriend. Dont do this"

Your head shakes against his pillow in protest, fingers still gripping his wrist. "Doesn't matter, not right now. Not when you make it better.. "

"What about whats right hm? Cause this.. This ain't.." Joels voice finds your ears in a low growl, his thumb almost unconsciously tacing along the edge of your shorts, teasing the boundary despite his hesitation. His strength is wearing thin, that much you can feel. You know your toeing the line he'd set so long ago between giving you peace, allowing you to rest somewhere you trusted as safe, and those nights when nothing but his touch would empty your mind. The kind you'd spend mewling beneath him as he let you shatter, let you burn in the basks of pleasure before extinguishing the flames and tucking you up satisfied and unable to think up anything fearsom.

"Just one last time Joel.. Please"

Your voice trembles out the plea, fragile and soft. His forehead finding the base of your neck with a gentle thump. Hes quite for a few moments, hair tickling your skin slightly.

"Last time.." he eventually sighs in resignation, almost unable to resist the very thing that he knows he should. "you promise?"

Your head bobs in a nod, rubbing against the soft fabric of his pillows. You'll tell him anything, agree to anything, so long as he touches you tonight.

"Alright.." he breathes, head lifting, lips a light press to the place his head had rested just moments before. "Alright honey. But no more, not after this. No more crawlin into my bed."

"No more.. " you agree.

The hand on your hip shifts up, turning your head to the side just a fraction. You feel the brush of his facial hair on your cheek, ghosting as his eyes search your face, then as gentle as you've ever felt from him, Joel kisses you.

Slow and sloppy, a clash of tongue and teeth. Its a kiss filled with carnal need at its very core. You even tug at his lip playfully, relishing in the low growl that breaks from his throat.

Your so caught up in the taste of him, aged whiskey and something a little tangier, you dont even notice his fingers dipping lower until they cup the soft swell of your pussy. The delicate plushness already slick with need.

"Already so wet f'me baby, fuck" Joel groans, his head shifting to mouth at the curve of your jaw and down your neck. His fingers dipping into your slit slowly, calculated and knowing, gathering up the wetness and bring it up, up, up to the swell of your clit.

The sound you make at the touch is punched out, breathy and high in pitch as he gently circles the bud. Your thighs widening as you drape one over his hip to give him more access.

"That boy's been neglecting you hasn't he?" joel coos as his teeth tug mischievously at your earlobe. "Lettin you come to me like this.."

When you whine he laughs rough and gravely, fingers pressing a little firmer as your hips jolt, eyes fluttering.

"My poor baby.. That feel good?"

You dont have it in you to respond as he circles your clit. The pads of his fingertips skilled, calculated in the way only an older man can be, as he draws soft sounds from your throat. You keen against him, back arching , the moment those pads dip lower.

Joels grip on you tightens, the hand on your hip looping over your chest, as one finger slips inside you. The digit slick and finding little resistance as he pumps it in and out torturously slow until he draws out, adding a second. His voice a gruff drawl as his teeth tug softly on the lobe of your ear.

"Fuck.. Still so sensitive aint ya honey, shh i know.. Big breaths"

Those big breaths tremble free to mingle with barley audible praise, high and gasped out as the syrupy heat of pleasure blooms. Each plunge and crook against your rippling walls burning hotter. Your hips beginning to move in time with his fingers, fucking yourself on the slick digits, the wet squelch of your cunt audible despite the fabric barriers.

"There you go.." he groans, hand slipping between the buttons of your flannel to harshly cup your tit, to keep you close. "Take what you need from me"

"J-Joel..s-so good..m' close" you cry out, cunt tightening around his scissoring fingers. The wet slap of his palm meeting your skin growing as his fingers brush against that soft spot inside that never fails to make you sob.

"I know.." he coos, murmuring the words right against your lips, "can feel it sweetheart, You let that pretty little mind go.. Thats my good girl."

Its within another handful of crooks and grinds you do. You shatter, mind filled with a hazey cloud filled with nothing but joel, joel, joel. A broken moan vibrating against his slightly rough lips as they messily press on yours. The carcophany of sounds bouncing around the bedrooms walls, careless of volume or the way they tremble his name like its the only word you know. Joels fingers not giving up their delicious moves until your thighs shudder closed around his hand and your body's wracked with a buzzing kind of pleasure that makes you shake.

"So fuckin beautiful.." Joel pants, like hes the one who's just unraveled mind body and soul (and in a way, deep inside, he has). His lips pressing a final lingering kiss to yours as he does. "Good girl. S'that better?"

The sound you make is nearer a pleased hum than a mumbled answer, vibration rumbling your chest. You float in that little bubble Joel always gets you to, weightless with a brain thats fuzzy around the edges. Your skins hot, flushed and sweaty beneath the flannel, his hand still tucked inside cupping the weight of your boob; its strangely grounding as his other hand slips free from your shorts. In your periphery you just catch the way his lips part, the digits sucked into the warmth of his mouth with a satisfied grumble.

He's hard behind you, solid and twitching against the fabric of his plaid pajama bottoms. Yet he lets you breathe, come down from the haze, curled in his arms like a trembling wreck. Minutes ticking by on the little clock that rests on his table, until his voice breaks the silence. The sound almost startling you awake.

"You should probably be gettin back now honey s' late."

Joels fingers softly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, subtly begining to shift his body away from yours. Your head turns, eyes catching his in the dim room, your hand reaching back to hold onto the curve of his thigh.

"But.. What about you?"

"Wasn't.." he sighs, sheets rustling, shifting your hand away before it finds the familiar swell of his cock. The moment so abrupt, yet so hesitant, like he regrets it the second your touch is removed. "Ain't about me. This was for you. For peace n quiet"

"What if i wanted it to be for you too?"

Your words float in the air, growing stagnant. Hes not touching you anymore, hand free from your shirt, the other still looped around your wrist. He lets it go as you turn to face him, sitting up, brows furrowed. "Joel?"

When he responds it feels cold, different, distant. Like his hackles were raised and he was ready to bolt. His expression still, rocky in that stubborn Joel way, eyes refusing to find yours like a switch flipped. "You know that cant happen baby. Peace n' i? We ain't exactly get along."

Your head bobs in a nod you dont realize you've made until it stops. Joel gets like this sometimes, stewing in his own feelings, building back up that wall that blocks his vulnerability. It reminds you of when you first met, of those quiet conversations whilst ellie slept, you doing most of the talking until he'd grown willing enough to contribute.

You dont know what makes you say it, but you feel the thick tension roll from Joel in crashing waves the second you do. Like the ocean during a storm.

"You know.." you start, having shuffled back against the headboard, fingers toying with the sheets around your waist. "I've been thinking of breaking it off with him.."

Joels head wips toward you as if you'd just told him you'd seen Sarah walk down the street yesterday. His jaw tightening, teeth biting against one another harshly. "Dont." he grits out, voice low, dangerous. "Dont say shit you don't mean. Not now. Not after.."

Not after he'd been knuckle deep inside you, again. Not after promising one last time. Not after hed done the one thing he knows he should not have done in the first place.

You weren't his, never would be, not in a world like this. There was too much to loose.

"Who says i dont mean it Joel?" Your voice remains steady, a shrug gracing your shoulders like you'd simply told him the weather.

"No. Y-You gotta stop it" he all but growls, gritty and drawled. Desperate if you really listen. His head shakes, feet hitting the wooden floor with a heavy thump, hes almost every bit the mirror image of a disappointed father and you struggle to suppress the thought. "This.. Thats the post-orgasm fuzz talkin. Cant throw away everythin you have for an old man like me"

The scoff slips before you can blink, clipped and louder than you realize.

"Everything i have? Please Joel, What do i have, A boy i cant even sleep next to? I cant do another night sneakin out to sleep on my fucking couch!"

"And sneakin out to sleep in my bed is better?" he shoots back, huffing the words out. It hits a nerve, makes you flinch just a fraction, but he keeps going. "Christ, How bout his feelings? You just gonna break it off cause you're, what, Lonely?"

"Lonley?" you spit, almost flying out of his sheets. Your feet hitting the wood with just as much oomph if not harder than his had."that's- fuck thats why you think i come here?"

"Well you tell me! Your a big girl, fill me in on why you keep sneak over here, crawlin into my bed, beggin me for things i cant- i shouldnt be givin you!"

Joel doesn't miss the way you recoil, the way your shoulders drop just slightly. It stings, his words, the way he speaks as if you were the only one to blame. Standing across from him in his old flannel, pajama shorts and look that makes his throat tighten. It has to stop, should've long before now, youve pushed your way into his ribcage far too deep. Your very being nestling too close to his heart in a world he's already stapled the offending organ closed to.

You deserve more. Deserve better.

Especially when your trembling voice finds his ears next. It holds bite, stands its groud, but god does it pull at something Joel doesnt- cant- let himself face. "You know why! Because you let me rest, because you saw- you.. You saw fucking everything out there, wouldnt even be here if you didn't, and you-"

He cuts you off, hands harshly running through his peppering hair. He doesn't mean to, not really, but it lands sharp all the same. "I what?"

"You made.. Make.. Me feel safe Joel, in a way i.. I havent felt since before this."

You dont see the tremble of his lip, nor the sting of salt in his eyes as he lets his next words land. Your too busy stalking yourself to the very door you'd came in through hours earlier. Fingers trembling as they wrench open the knob.

It hits like a knife, raw and tender. A soft whimper muffled in your throat as it makes your eyes burn.

"Yeah well, got news for ya sweetheart, You shouldn't."

[littledes1re]

so how much are we open to the idea of coffeguittar and daddy kink??

Phewww I don’t really see him having a daddy kink tbh. I think he is more that vanilla soft lover type of guy🤔

[littledes1re]

Hiii I’ve been LOVING the @/coffeeguitar series and I had a little idea. Because these two are still dealing with some kind of loss and grief, what if Joel took the reader on a surprise date, and they go to one of the houses Miller Construction is renovating? They put on their safety glasses, grab some hammers and go crazy, but not in a crazy rage way, in a poetic, emotionally relieving way? Absolutely no pressure this was just a little idea I had. Love your work and can’t wait to see where the series goes! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Ugh waittt I love this Idea!!! That would be soo fitting for them🥹 I’ll write this in my requests, thank you so much for your suggestion🫶🏻🫶🏻

[littledes1re]

AWW YES🥹 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READINF🫶🏻🫶🏻

@/Coffeeguitar | pt. 5

Pairing: Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: A sweet movie night turns into Joel taking care of you for the very first time. He lovingly shows you how much he cherishes you.

Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, protected sex, pinv, oral f!receiving, age gap! (23 and 50), praise kink, kissing, body worshipping, Joel is slightly insecure about his body, pet names

A/N: this is so adorable actually🥹 as usual, this Idea is originally by @glitterspark <33

It’s been months now.

Days and weeks folding into each other while time doesn‘t feel like it passes—it accumulates. With mugs of coffee gone cold, on the porch and sunrises with your cheek against Joel’s shoulder. With evenings wrapped up in that shirt of his and afternoons with Furball napping on Joel’s lap, even tho Joel complains about her hair being all over his clothes.

It started like so many of your nights together—curled up with Joel on his couch, an old movie flickering across the screen, Furball snoring gently at your feet.

But the movie was long forgotten.

Your fingers had wandered up under Joel’s shirt, tracing his skin and the warmth along his abdomen. You climbed onto his lap like it was instinct, pressing your knees into the cushions on either side of him.

Your mouth moved against his—hungry, slow, a little desperate. His hands gripped your hips, but you started to move anyway. Soft grinds. Steady friction.

Whimpers spilled from your throat—delicate and needy.

You felt him, hard beneath you, and it only made you roll more. Joel’s grip tightened.

“Jesus, Angel” he groaned, breaking the kiss, his voice rough.

His head dropped back for a second, eyes closed like he was trying to breathe through the heat. But he wasn’t shocked. Not really. He’d suspected this would happen for a long time.

The first time you ground against him while being half asleep. The subtle arch of your back when you bent over near the sink, waiting for him to catch it. That moment your fingers grazed his crotch by accident, but you didn’t pull away.

Joel had noticed it all.

He was an old man, sure, but his body hadn’t forgotten want. And you challenged it every single time. Whenever he felt that pulse of aching need, he’d handle it himself—quiet, private, respectful. Never wanting to pressure you. Never daring to believe you’d want him.

But the signs you gave him weren’t just accidental—they were coordinated, tender, and needy. And tonight, the way your hips moved like you couldn’t help yourself… that was enough.

Terrifying. Beautiful. Real.

Joel hadn’t slept with anyone in years. That truth sat in his gut low, like something cold beneath all this heat. He worried—he’d be too quick, too clumsy, too far from what you deserved. But what he wanted more than anything was to give you everything.

All his worries and thoughts quickly fade when he hears you whisper:

“Please…”

It’s soft. Barely there. But he hears it.

His hands slide up your sides, steady but restrained. One lands behind your back, the other traces up your jaw until his fingers catch your chin, tilting your face toward his.

You meet his gaze. The movie light flickers in his eyes—warm, heavy, patient.

“You want me to take care of you?” he asks, voice impossibly tender.

You nod. You don’t say anything, you can’t—because there’s something caught in your throat that isn’t words, just feeling. You just nod again.

Joel leans in, pressing his forehead gently to yours.

“Say it, baby.”

Your chest flutters. Your voice is nothing more than breath.

“Please… I want you.”

His thumb brushes your lower lip, slow and soft, before he kisses you again—this time with all the weight he’s been holding back.

Joel wraps an arm around your back and pulls you in close.

“We’re not doing this here,” he whispers, “I need you in my bed.”

You nod, breathless, legs already locking around his waist as he stands up. He carries you down the hallway, barefoot and urgent, like he can‘t bear a second more.

He hovers over you, his body close but careful, kissing you again until you melt into it. His knee easing itself between your legs, rubbing and pressing slowly, drawing out tiny whines from your throat you couldn’t swallow. But when your focus begin to blur—mouth parting, hips lifting—he breaks the kiss and starts trailing downward.

Down your jaw, your throat, your collarbone.

Each kiss was slower than the last. Each suckle left behind warmth and want.

Then he paused.

His hand brushed your cheek.

“Baby… are you a virgin?”

You blinked, breath shaky.

“No,” you said quietly. “I’ve just… it’s been a long time.”

Joel’s mouth softened into a crooked smile.

“Ditto.”

He stroked your face gently, like he was soothing something before it even hurt.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he whispered. “Having you here under me… lookin’ like that… sayin’ please like it’s the only word you’ve got.”

Your breath hitched.

“I’m gonna take my time with you, angel. You deserve that. You deserve all of it.”

Then he kisses you again—breaks it and his eyes begin to trace every feature like he is memorising them. His chest rises and falls, but he doesn‘t rush. You sit up, a hand gently peeling off your shirt and then unclasping your bra, your breasts falling with a gentle bounce while his eyes are fixated on them.

He starts with kisses. Gentle. Placed with intention. One lands on your shoulder, then your collarbone. Another graces the curve of your neck, then the soft valley between your breasts—not hurried, not greedy. Just slow, like worship.

“Every inch“ he whispers. “I’m not missing a damn thing, baby.”

You shiver as his mouth trails further down, warm lips brushing over your tummy, ribs, hipbones. His stubble tickles, and you squirm.

He chuckles softly, pressing a grounding palm to your side.

His eyes lift to yours for reassurance. He’s flushed, cheeks tinged pink that matches your own heat. There’s an unspoken mutual nervousness—like the moment’s too big, too tender. But you nod, and Joel leans in again.

His hands come up slowly—one cupping your breast with care, thumb brushing over your nipple. The way he squeezes is more comfort than lust, affirming your softness against his rough fingers. He groans under his breath.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says, voice cracking just slightly.

You smile shyly, covering your face for a second. He pulls your hand away gently.

“Don’t hide,” he says, eyes soft. “Not from me.”

His other hand drifts down—lower, grazing the waistband of your pants. He pauses, fingers teasing just above fabric. You shift under him involuntarily, and his hand presses between your legs, the heel of his palm firm against the aching center of you.

“Joel.” You gasp—hips bucking against him.

Joel smirks, breath brushing your lips.

“Already so worked up for me, huh?”

Your head nods fast, your body aching for more. He leans in to kiss your cheek, then trails his lips down again, mouthing slowly across your hip as he hooks his fingers into your waistband.

And then—he slides your pants down, careful, reverent. Watching as your thighs are revealed, inch by inch. Like it’s the unveiling of something sacred.

“God…” he murmurs. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

His thumb grazes the inner edge of your underwear, teasing the waistband before tugging gently. You lift your hips to help, and he slides the last barrier away, eyes locked onto you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

You gently spread your legs, revealing your pussy to him, his gaze landing and staying like it always meant to be.

“So pretty,” he murmurs. “You have no idea.” Eyes still locked in.

And your cheeks flush hot. His do too. That faint pink rising in both of you as nervousness dances between pulses of want.

He looks up to your eyes, needy, desperate and he knows what to do. He lowers himself between your legs.

His stubble tickles the softness of your skin as he kisses just above your hip, down toward your inner thigh. His lips part against you—warm, wet. He doesn’t dive in right away. He takes his time, planting slow kisses along the edges, feeling you twitch beneath him.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “Already trembling.”

You whimper, fingers gripping the sheets.

“Please.” And a coo leaves his mouth.

Then finally—finally—his mouth finds you.

He starts with a slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue, parting you with such patience it almost unravels you instantly. His lips wrap around your clit, tongue moving in gentle circles, then flicks. His hand slides under your thigh, holding you steady as your hips begin to rise.

You gasp. Your hand tangles in his hair.

“Joel…”

He groans against you. The sound vibrates deep between your legs.

“Keep sayin’ my name like that,” he mumbles, “I might never come up for air.”

And he doesn’t—not for a while.

He devours you carefully. Lovingly. Softly. Like this moment is about you and you alone. His rhythm adjusts to your breath, to the way your body tenses and shudders. When you begin to fall apart, tummy clenching, whimpers rising into sharp little cries, he holds you firm—pressing deeper, slower, guiding you through every wave.

And when it’s over, when your body melts beneath him, Joel kisses your hip one last time before crawling up to meet your eyes again. A loud sigh leaving your lips.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod slowly, blinking through the haze.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “I always do.” Squeezing your hip.

Then—without thinking—you reach for the hem of his shirt. Your fingers curl there, tugging, wanting.

Joel watches you, lips twitching with that crooked half smirk you’ve cpme to crave.

“You’re that needy, huh?” he teases, warm and amused. “Didn’t even let me catch my breath, angel.”

You flush, but don’t let go. He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath, and gently shifts back just enough to pull the fabric over his head.

His torso is revealed in strips of moonlight—broad shoulders, scattered freckles, soft edges where strength has softened with time. He hesitates once the shirt’s gone, his gaze dropping slightly.

“Been not the fittest lately” he murmurs, almost shy. “Kinda lost the abs a decade ago.”

You shake your head, sitting up slowly, eyes never leaving him. One hand reaches out, palm dragging gently across his belly, fingers tracing the softness there like it’s something worth holding on to.

Joel stills—silent in your touch.

Then you bend forward, pressing your lips to the curve of him. Just beneath his ribs. Then lower. A line of kisses drawn across every place he tried to hide.

“You’re so beautiful.” you whisper.

Joel swallows hard, throat bobbing, eyes flickering like he might fall apart right then.

He never says anything—just watches you, watches the way you love him so effortlessly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You slide your hand down, slow but certain, fingers cupping the hardness between Joel’s thighs, even through the thick denim. You look up at him with wide, pleading eyes, lashes fluttering like instinct.

“Please,” you whisper.

Joel freezes for half a second, the want in him catching sharp, then nods—quick, breathless.

“Yeah. Okay—hold on.”

He climbs off the bed in a hurry, suddenly awkward and rushed, tugging at drawers, flipping through the top one, then the next—muttering under his breath. You watch with a giggle curled in your throat, eyes trailing the way his bare shoulders flex, how his stomach dips and stretches with movement.

“S’been so long,” he grumbles, cheeks flushed as he finally finds what he’s looking for. “Don’t laugh.”

“Too late” you whisper, giggling again.

He turns to face you, one hand holding a single condom, the other tugging his jeans and boxers down in one go. His cock springs free—hard, flushed, aching—and your breath catches.

Your gaze finds it immediately, fixated, lips parting unconsciously.

Joel groans at the look on your face.

“Jesus, Angel…” He grins, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Never thought you were this damn naughty.”

He crawls back onto the bed, sliding between your legs with that familiar weight, kissing you deep and slow—no rush, just rhythm. Your fingers lace behind his neck, holding him close, breathing into the kiss like it’s everything.

Then he pulls back slightly, the condom packet crinkling between fingers as he offers it to you.

“Y’wanna do it?”

Your heart flips. You nod, sitting up carefully. Hands trembling slightly, you unwrap the foil and take him into your palm—warm, heavy, throbbing—and roll it on slowly, steadily.

Joel shudders. A raw groan tears from his throat.

“Fuck…” he whispers. “That’s gonna stay in my head forever.”

You look up at him—cheeks flushed, eyes wide, lips parted—and he leans in again, forehead to yours. The air hums between you, charged and sacred. Joel leans down, presses one last kiss on your tummy—soft and lingering—before his hand wraps around himself, guiding his aching length toward you with slow care.

The head of him nudges between your folds—warm, pulsing, nudging at your clit just right.

Your body welcomes him, but it’s still a stretch; your thighs twitch with anticipation and nerves.

You inhale sharply.

Joel scans your face carefully, looking for any discomfort.

“Doin’ so well,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, his free hand cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes gently as he pushes deeper, inch by inch, until he’s fully nestled inside you.

Your breath shudders.

Eyes flutter open to meet his. The stretch stings, just a little—enough for your expression to shift.

Joel kisses your forehead, still unmoving.

“Need a moment?” he asks quietly.

You nod and he stays still—his body hovering over yours. His lips find yours again, slow and careful, like guiding you through the tension. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands brushing his back as the discomfort fades. Each kiss softens the sharp edge, replacing it with warmth.

Then you nod again—a sign that you’re ready.

Joel smiles softly, kisses you once more, and pulls back just slightly before rolling his hips forward with a quiet groan.

“Fuck…” Joel groans.

You bite your lip, clinging tighter to him, thighs pulling him deeper.

He begins to move—slow thrusts, deliberate and paced, his forehead resting against yours as his hips grind with rhythm. You moan, unable to hold it back, head tilting as your breath breaks.

“God, you feel so fucking good around me,” he pants.

And if you could find the right words, you would tell him how good he feels. But the moans start to rise in pitch, honest and loud.

“Prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard,” Joel murmurs. “Louder, baby. C’mon”

You oblige, moaning his name with abandon, and he thrusts faster, deeper—each stroke pulling more from you.

“Feels good…” you whimper, quietly.

Joel cups your cheek again, gaze locked onto yours, and nods through his own rough breath.

“I know, I know, baby.”

Your mouths find each other again, sloppy and heated. The kiss burns through you. His hips don’t stop. The rhythm doesn’t break.

“Squeezing me so damn well, aren’t you?” he mutters against your lips, smirking when you nod your head quickly.

“Joel—I think m’gonna cum.” Your body tenses, he nods, as his eyes stay fixed on you—watching the way you unravel beneath him. Your lips parted, moans slipping out in broken rhythm, eyebrows drawn, cheeks flushed and damp from heat and want.

“Prettiest fuckin girl” he whispers. “S’okey, c’mon.”

Your breath shudders, shifting from fast to slow as Joel’s thumb finds your clit, gently rubbing. The pleasure builds steadily, your thighs beginning to rock in rhythm. His lips graze your neck—then bite—while his thrusts grow sloppier, no longer able to hold back.

“Let go for me” he mutters into your ear, his thumb circling faster.

You squeeze your eyes shut, a cry ripping through your lips as you snap. He groans against you, close behind.

“I got you. I got you, Angel,” he whispers hurriedly, pressing close as he starts to come, his thrusts slowing down while he fills the condom, deep and tender.

Joel lays down gently, settling his weight over you just enough to feel the warmth, his lips brushing your neck, your jaw. His hand finds your back and starts stroking soft lines up and down. There’s silence—quiet and golden. Just the sound of breathing and skin cooling, and then:

“Still have it inside me…” Joel murmurs, teasingly.

You blink once, then giggle, cheeks flushed. He grins, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

“‘course you do,” you say, breathless, nose scrunching as you grin at him.

His face softens, like the words reached someplace deep.

“I love you, baby,” Joel says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing’s gonna change that,” he adds.

You feel it hit all at once—like gravity. The warmth. The safety. You nod, eyes wet but smiling.

You wrap your arms around him tight, burying your face in his chest as sleep begins to pull you both down. Joel holds you close, like nothing outside that bed could ever touch the moment.

And together—you drift. Cozy. Safe. Completely wrapped in each other.

@/coffeeguitar Masterlist!

Feel free to send me Ideas on further parts!

Taglist: @akah565 @sunofnebulah @psclcain @rwbyssx @pedrofan @wildthyng @notyourlovemonkey @brittmb115 @amyispxnk @pinkcabinet @cuteanimalmama @umnitsa @armandispunk

[littledes1re]

LMAO THANK YOU SO MUCH😭🥹

@/Coffeeguitar | pt. 5

Pairing: Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: A sweet movie night turns into Joel taking care of you for the very first time. He lovingly shows you how much he cherishes you.

Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, protected sex, pinv, oral f!receiving, age gap! (23 and 50), praise kink, kissing, body worshipping, Joel is slightly insecure about his body, pet names

A/N: this is so adorable actually🥹 as usual, this Idea is originally by @glitterspark <33

It’s been months now.

Days and weeks folding into each other while time doesn‘t feel like it passes—it accumulates. With mugs of coffee gone cold, on the porch and sunrises with your cheek against Joel’s shoulder. With evenings wrapped up in that shirt of his and afternoons with Furball napping on Joel’s lap, even tho Joel complains about her hair being all over his clothes.

It started like so many of your nights together—curled up with Joel on his couch, an old movie flickering across the screen, Furball snoring gently at your feet.

But the movie was long forgotten.

Your fingers had wandered up under Joel’s shirt, tracing his skin and the warmth along his abdomen. You climbed onto his lap like it was instinct, pressing your knees into the cushions on either side of him.

Your mouth moved against his—hungry, slow, a little desperate. His hands gripped your hips, but you started to move anyway. Soft grinds. Steady friction.

Whimpers spilled from your throat—delicate and needy.

You felt him, hard beneath you, and it only made you roll more. Joel’s grip tightened.

“Jesus, Angel” he groaned, breaking the kiss, his voice rough.

His head dropped back for a second, eyes closed like he was trying to breathe through the heat. But he wasn’t shocked. Not really. He’d suspected this would happen for a long time.

The first time you ground against him while being half asleep. The subtle arch of your back when you bent over near the sink, waiting for him to catch it. That moment your fingers grazed his crotch by accident, but you didn’t pull away.

Joel had noticed it all.

He was an old man, sure, but his body hadn’t forgotten want. And you challenged it every single time. Whenever he felt that pulse of aching need, he’d handle it himself—quiet, private, respectful. Never wanting to pressure you. Never daring to believe you’d want him.

But the signs you gave him weren’t just accidental—they were coordinated, tender, and needy. And tonight, the way your hips moved like you couldn’t help yourself… that was enough.

Terrifying. Beautiful. Real.

Joel hadn’t slept with anyone in years. That truth sat in his gut low, like something cold beneath all this heat. He worried—he’d be too quick, too clumsy, too far from what you deserved. But what he wanted more than anything was to give you everything.

All his worries and thoughts quickly fade when he hears you whisper:

“Please…”

It’s soft. Barely there. But he hears it.

His hands slide up your sides, steady but restrained. One lands behind your back, the other traces up your jaw until his fingers catch your chin, tilting your face toward his.

You meet his gaze. The movie light flickers in his eyes—warm, heavy, patient.

“You want me to take care of you?” he asks, voice impossibly tender.

You nod. You don’t say anything, you can’t—because there’s something caught in your throat that isn’t words, just feeling. You just nod again.

Joel leans in, pressing his forehead gently to yours.

“Say it, baby.”

Your chest flutters. Your voice is nothing more than breath.

“Please… I want you.”

His thumb brushes your lower lip, slow and soft, before he kisses you again—this time with all the weight he’s been holding back.

Joel wraps an arm around your back and pulls you in close.

“We’re not doing this here,” he whispers, “I need you in my bed.”

You nod, breathless, legs already locking around his waist as he stands up. He carries you down the hallway, barefoot and urgent, like he can‘t bear a second more.

He hovers over you, his body close but careful, kissing you again until you melt into it. His knee easing itself between your legs, rubbing and pressing slowly, drawing out tiny whines from your throat you couldn’t swallow. But when your focus begin to blur—mouth parting, hips lifting—he breaks the kiss and starts trailing downward.

Down your jaw, your throat, your collarbone.

Each kiss was slower than the last. Each suckle left behind warmth and want.

Then he paused.

His hand brushed your cheek.

“Baby… are you a virgin?”

You blinked, breath shaky.

“No,” you said quietly. “I’ve just… it’s been a long time.”

Joel’s mouth softened into a crooked smile.

“Ditto.”

He stroked your face gently, like he was soothing something before it even hurt.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he whispered. “Having you here under me… lookin’ like that… sayin’ please like it’s the only word you’ve got.”

Your breath hitched.

“I’m gonna take my time with you, angel. You deserve that. You deserve all of it.”

Then he kisses you again—breaks it and his eyes begin to trace every feature like he is memorising them. His chest rises and falls, but he doesn‘t rush. You sit up, a hand gently peeling off your shirt and then unclasping your bra, your breasts falling with a gentle bounce while his eyes are fixated on them.

He starts with kisses. Gentle. Placed with intention. One lands on your shoulder, then your collarbone. Another graces the curve of your neck, then the soft valley between your breasts—not hurried, not greedy. Just slow, like worship.

“Every inch“ he whispers. “I’m not missing a damn thing, baby.”

You shiver as his mouth trails further down, warm lips brushing over your tummy, ribs, hipbones. His stubble tickles, and you squirm.

He chuckles softly, pressing a grounding palm to your side.

His eyes lift to yours for reassurance. He’s flushed, cheeks tinged pink that matches your own heat. There’s an unspoken mutual nervousness—like the moment’s too big, too tender. But you nod, and Joel leans in again.

His hands come up slowly—one cupping your breast with care, thumb brushing over your nipple. The way he squeezes is more comfort than lust, affirming your softness against his rough fingers. He groans under his breath.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says, voice cracking just slightly.

You smile shyly, covering your face for a second. He pulls your hand away gently.

“Don’t hide,” he says, eyes soft. “Not from me.”

His other hand drifts down—lower, grazing the waistband of your pants. He pauses, fingers teasing just above fabric. You shift under him involuntarily, and his hand presses between your legs, the heel of his palm firm against the aching center of you.

“Joel.” You gasp—hips bucking against him.

Joel smirks, breath brushing your lips.

“Already so worked up for me, huh?”

Your head nods fast, your body aching for more. He leans in to kiss your cheek, then trails his lips down again, mouthing slowly across your hip as he hooks his fingers into your waistband.

And then—he slides your pants down, careful, reverent. Watching as your thighs are revealed, inch by inch. Like it’s the unveiling of something sacred.

“God…” he murmurs. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

His thumb grazes the inner edge of your underwear, teasing the waistband before tugging gently. You lift your hips to help, and he slides the last barrier away, eyes locked onto you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

You gently spread your legs, revealing your pussy to him, his gaze landing and staying like it always meant to be.

“So pretty,” he murmurs. “You have no idea.” Eyes still locked in.

And your cheeks flush hot. His do too. That faint pink rising in both of you as nervousness dances between pulses of want.

He looks up to your eyes, needy, desperate and he knows what to do. He lowers himself between your legs.

His stubble tickles the softness of your skin as he kisses just above your hip, down toward your inner thigh. His lips part against you—warm, wet. He doesn’t dive in right away. He takes his time, planting slow kisses along the edges, feeling you twitch beneath him.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “Already trembling.”

You whimper, fingers gripping the sheets.

“Please.” And a coo leaves his mouth.

Then finally—finally—his mouth finds you.

He starts with a slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue, parting you with such patience it almost unravels you instantly. His lips wrap around your clit, tongue moving in gentle circles, then flicks. His hand slides under your thigh, holding you steady as your hips begin to rise.

You gasp. Your hand tangles in his hair.

“Joel…”

He groans against you. The sound vibrates deep between your legs.

“Keep sayin’ my name like that,” he mumbles, “I might never come up for air.”

And he doesn’t—not for a while.

He devours you carefully. Lovingly. Softly. Like this moment is about you and you alone. His rhythm adjusts to your breath, to the way your body tenses and shudders. When you begin to fall apart, tummy clenching, whimpers rising into sharp little cries, he holds you firm—pressing deeper, slower, guiding you through every wave.

And when it’s over, when your body melts beneath him, Joel kisses your hip one last time before crawling up to meet your eyes again. A loud sigh leaving your lips.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod slowly, blinking through the haze.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “I always do.” Squeezing your hip.

Then—without thinking—you reach for the hem of his shirt. Your fingers curl there, tugging, wanting.

Joel watches you, lips twitching with that crooked half smirk you’ve cpme to crave.

“You’re that needy, huh?” he teases, warm and amused. “Didn’t even let me catch my breath, angel.”

You flush, but don’t let go. He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath, and gently shifts back just enough to pull the fabric over his head.

His torso is revealed in strips of moonlight—broad shoulders, scattered freckles, soft edges where strength has softened with time. He hesitates once the shirt’s gone, his gaze dropping slightly.

“Been not the fittest lately” he murmurs, almost shy. “Kinda lost the abs a decade ago.”

You shake your head, sitting up slowly, eyes never leaving him. One hand reaches out, palm dragging gently across his belly, fingers tracing the softness there like it’s something worth holding on to.

Joel stills—silent in your touch.

Then you bend forward, pressing your lips to the curve of him. Just beneath his ribs. Then lower. A line of kisses drawn across every place he tried to hide.

“You’re so beautiful.” you whisper.

Joel swallows hard, throat bobbing, eyes flickering like he might fall apart right then.

He never says anything—just watches you, watches the way you love him so effortlessly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You slide your hand down, slow but certain, fingers cupping the hardness between Joel’s thighs, even through the thick denim. You look up at him with wide, pleading eyes, lashes fluttering like instinct.

“Please,” you whisper.

Joel freezes for half a second, the want in him catching sharp, then nods—quick, breathless.

“Yeah. Okay—hold on.”

He climbs off the bed in a hurry, suddenly awkward and rushed, tugging at drawers, flipping through the top one, then the next—muttering under his breath. You watch with a giggle curled in your throat, eyes trailing the way his bare shoulders flex, how his stomach dips and stretches with movement.

“S’been so long,” he grumbles, cheeks flushed as he finally finds what he’s looking for. “Don’t laugh.”

“Too late” you whisper, giggling again.

He turns to face you, one hand holding a single condom, the other tugging his jeans and boxers down in one go. His cock springs free—hard, flushed, aching—and your breath catches.

Your gaze finds it immediately, fixated, lips parting unconsciously.

Joel groans at the look on your face.

“Jesus, Angel…” He grins, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Never thought you were this damn naughty.”

He crawls back onto the bed, sliding between your legs with that familiar weight, kissing you deep and slow—no rush, just rhythm. Your fingers lace behind his neck, holding him close, breathing into the kiss like it’s everything.

Then he pulls back slightly, the condom packet crinkling between fingers as he offers it to you.

“Y’wanna do it?”

Your heart flips. You nod, sitting up carefully. Hands trembling slightly, you unwrap the foil and take him into your palm—warm, heavy, throbbing—and roll it on slowly, steadily.

Joel shudders. A raw groan tears from his throat.

“Fuck…” he whispers. “That’s gonna stay in my head forever.”

You look up at him—cheeks flushed, eyes wide, lips parted—and he leans in again, forehead to yours. The air hums between you, charged and sacred. Joel leans down, presses one last kiss on your tummy—soft and lingering—before his hand wraps around himself, guiding his aching length toward you with slow care.

The head of him nudges between your folds—warm, pulsing, nudging at your clit just right.

Your body welcomes him, but it’s still a stretch; your thighs twitch with anticipation and nerves.

You inhale sharply.

Joel scans your face carefully, looking for any discomfort.

“Doin’ so well,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, his free hand cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes gently as he pushes deeper, inch by inch, until he’s fully nestled inside you.

Your breath shudders.

Eyes flutter open to meet his. The stretch stings, just a little—enough for your expression to shift.

Joel kisses your forehead, still unmoving.

“Need a moment?” he asks quietly.

You nod and he stays still—his body hovering over yours. His lips find yours again, slow and careful, like guiding you through the tension. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands brushing his back as the discomfort fades. Each kiss softens the sharp edge, replacing it with warmth.

Then you nod again—a sign that you’re ready.

Joel smiles softly, kisses you once more, and pulls back just slightly before rolling his hips forward with a quiet groan.

“Fuck…” Joel groans.

You bite your lip, clinging tighter to him, thighs pulling him deeper.

He begins to move—slow thrusts, deliberate and paced, his forehead resting against yours as his hips grind with rhythm. You moan, unable to hold it back, head tilting as your breath breaks.

“God, you feel so fucking good around me,” he pants.

And if you could find the right words, you would tell him how good he feels. But the moans start to rise in pitch, honest and loud.

“Prettiest sounds I’ve ever heard,” Joel murmurs. “Louder, baby. C’mon”

You oblige, moaning his name with abandon, and he thrusts faster, deeper—each stroke pulling more from you.

“Feels good…” you whimper, quietly.

Joel cups your cheek again, gaze locked onto yours, and nods through his own rough breath.

“I know, I know, baby.”

Your mouths find each other again, sloppy and heated. The kiss burns through you. His hips don’t stop. The rhythm doesn’t break.

“Squeezing me so damn well, aren’t you?” he mutters against your lips, smirking when you nod your head quickly.

“Joel—I think m’gonna cum.” Your body tenses, he nods, as his eyes stay fixed on you—watching the way you unravel beneath him. Your lips parted, moans slipping out in broken rhythm, eyebrows drawn, cheeks flushed and damp from heat and want.

“Prettiest fuckin girl” he whispers. “S’okey, c’mon.”

Your breath shudders, shifting from fast to slow as Joel’s thumb finds your clit, gently rubbing. The pleasure builds steadily, your thighs beginning to rock in rhythm. His lips graze your neck—then bite—while his thrusts grow sloppier, no longer able to hold back.

“Let go for me” he mutters into your ear, his thumb circling faster.

You squeeze your eyes shut, a cry ripping through your lips as you snap. He groans against you, close behind.

“I got you. I got you, Angel,” he whispers hurriedly, pressing close as he starts to come, his thrusts slowing down while he fills the condom, deep and tender.

Joel lays down gently, settling his weight over you just enough to feel the warmth, his lips brushing your neck, your jaw. His hand finds your back and starts stroking soft lines up and down. There’s silence—quiet and golden. Just the sound of breathing and skin cooling, and then:

“Still have it inside me…” Joel murmurs, teasingly.

You blink once, then giggle, cheeks flushed. He grins, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

“‘course you do,” you say, breathless, nose scrunching as you grin at him.

His face softens, like the words reached someplace deep.

“I love you, baby,” Joel says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing’s gonna change that,” he adds.

You feel it hit all at once—like gravity. The warmth. The safety. You nod, eyes wet but smiling.

You wrap your arms around him tight, burying your face in his chest as sleep begins to pull you both down. Joel holds you close, like nothing outside that bed could ever touch the moment.

And together—you drift. Cozy. Safe. Completely wrapped in each other.

@/coffeeguitar Masterlist!

Feel free to send me Ideas on further parts!

Taglist: @akah565 @sunofnebulah @psclcain @rwbyssx @pedrofan @wildthyng @notyourlovemonkey @brittmb115 @amyispxnk @pinkcabinet @cuteanimalmama @umnitsa @armandispunk

[littledes1re]

@/coffeeguitar | Masterlist

Pairing: Joel miller x f!reader

Summary: After the loss of your father—your best friend—you create an account on the Message Heaven: Lonely Hearts Group forum, hoping to find someone to talk to. Joel Miller, a middle-aged man who lost his daughter and happens to be obsessed with coffee, writes to you. From the very first message, it feels like something just clicks between you.

Warnings: Very fluffy, kissing, slight Angst, Grief, No outbreak, Age Gap! (50s and 20s)

Chapters → Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five

More coming soon! If you have Ideas for this series, they are welcome in my Inbox! <3

If you want to be tagged, please let me know!

Idea originally by @glitterspark <3