#ppcu

[penvisions]

updating some stuff and adding links- don't mind me lol

dev's navigation {hello and welcome!}

dev / pen || 30's || she / they || cat mom || mobility impaired || undergrad student || pastry goddess || pedro lover

i am an adult, writing about adult things even if there is no smut content (there is, don't worry) so my blog and little corner of the internet is strictly 18+ || angst royalty

current wips:

gone to the dogs {qz! joel miller x reader}

services requested {older! joel miller x sugar momma! reader}

black hole sun {joel miller through the ages x f! reader}

on hiatus / now complete:

of beskar and kyber {din djarin x force sensitive! reader}

stages of devotion {younger! joel miller x baker! reader}

recent one shots / drabbles:

bear my weight {qz! joel miller x disabled! reader}

reciprocation {frankie morales x reader} *07/25

upcoming fics:

steel doesn't burn {young dad! joel miller x firefighter! reader} *NEW

finding your place {din djarin x babysitter! reader} *NEW

manners are important {clint flood x reader}

work conduct {dave york x coworker! reader}

-> main masterlist || joel miller masterlist || drabble masterlist || frankie morales masterlist || ao3 link || ko-fi

hopefully you find something that you enjoy and thank you for being here! hope the days are good to you and feel free to reach out to chat, my dms and inbox are always open for anything, loves ♡

dividers by the lovely @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

[baronessvonglitter]

Wet Hot Summer - Ch. 2

Joel Miller x f!reader

WC: 1,938

Summary: Joel follows you back to your bedroom, where you tempt him to go further than before.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! best friend's dad Joel. Age gap (reader is 22/Joel is 42). Nicknames (reader calls Joel "Uncle Grumpy" and calls him out on being a "perv"). TW: infidelity. Voyeurism. F!masturbation/sex toys. Fingering. F!oral. Shaming kink. M!oral. Nipple play. Come swallowing. Reader is bratty. Joel is kinda subby. Not beta'd.

A/n: Thank you so much for all the love from the first chapter! I don't know what came over me, I just thought this summer wasn't the same without a hot affair with Joel 💖

Series Masterlist

Outside you rejoin your parents, Sarah, and Joel's wife, picking up right where you left off. A little smirk dances on your lips when Joel emerges from the garage a whole ten minutes later, his eyes avoiding you at all costs as he offers his wife a stiff, awkward smile.

"Something wrong, Uncle Grumpy?" you ask innocently.

Joel tenses. "Everything's just peachy, princess." You smile brightly at him and continue your conversation with Mrs. Miller, as if you didn't just have your hands on her husband's junk. She smiles warmly, oblivious to the tension between you and her husband as she chatters about the neighborhood gossip, completely missing the dark glances Joel keeps shooting you.

The setting sun casts a warm honey glow on the earth as the idle talk comes to a lull and your and Sarah's moms start to pick up the leftover plates and empty beer cans. "I think it's your turn to host our sleepover," you tell Sarah as you share a dessert of banana pudding, spooning the whipped cream and taking tiny licks while watching Joel out of the corner of your eye.

"Oh, absolutely!" Sarah lights up at your suggestion. You cast a smug glance at Joel and smile at his stony glare, his lips wrapped around the beer bottle as he sips it. He wants nothing more than to snap you in half for teasing him like this.

The leftovers are put away and your parents hang around a little when they're done, not yet ready to let the night end, drinking with the Millers. "I'm gonna go next door and pack a bag real quick," you announce within earshot of Joel.

He watches you leave, his jaw clenching.

You go home and shower quickly, keeping your towel around you as you start packing an overnight bag. You slip on a pair of panties and reach for a bra when you feel someone watching you. You turn your attention to the window.

"You perv," you say with a smirk. "Wanted to catch a free show?"

Joel shakes his head, paling at being caught, heart thudding as you call him out. He runs a hand through his hair, chuckling as he glances around to make sure no one else is out. "Can you blame me? Can't say no to a good show when the invitation is right in front of me."

Still half naked you open the curtains all the way. "You gonna watch?"

"I can think of better things that I could do right now," he growls.

"Why think them when you can do them? Unless you're chicken." You sit on the edge of your bed and spread your legs with your panties still on.

Joel scoffs. He's practically salivating. "Darlin' I ain't chicken."

"Is that so?" You grab your bright pink vibrator from your drawer and turn it on, start to use it on yourself under your panties, dragging it across your slit and just barely teasing your clit. "Why don't you come in and prove it?"

Joel's eyes widen, his mouth goes dry as you challenge him. He doesn't even think twice, his feet moving before his mind can even fully process the situation. he slowly opens the window and climbs in, his eyes never leaving your body. He closes the window behind him and approaches you on the bed, staring down at you between your spread legs. "Let me handle that for you."

"Gonna finish me off, Uncle Grumpy?"

"Yeah. You had your chance. I'm taking over now." He takes the toy away and replaces it with his fingers. The pads are rough and calloused against your soft skin, causing you to gasp. "You like that, huh, princess?"

"Mmph! Yes!"

Joel's fingers move faster as he leans forward, his face inches above yours. "What would your daddy say if he found you like this?"

"He wouldn't - oh fuck, right there! - he wouldn't say anything. He'd murder you."

He smirks. "Sounds like a pretty good way to go out if you ask me."

"Ugh. You're such a perv." But you keep your legs open as he works you with his hand.

"No more than you are, princess. You're loving this just as much as I am. You need this just as much as I do, huh?"

"What I need is your mouth on me, since you like running it so much. Put it to good use."

His breath is hot against your skin. "Let me show you what this tongue can do.." You lean back as he removes your panties and tosses them to the floor. His hands grip your thighs and he moves your legs over his shoulders, a grin on his face. "This alright?"

"More than alright.."

"Good." He smirks and licks a stripe across your slit, tongue lingering on your clit, lapping you up in slow, languid licks. You moan, your fingers running through Joel's graying locks as you arch your back, gasping for him. His fingers grip your thighs hard enough to leave a bruise as he devours you like he's starving for it, his tongue undulating with an eagerness he's neglected in his unhappy marriage.

"There you go," you pant. "When's the last time you ate out a college girl?"

"Too damn long." He doubles down his efforts, his tongue doing things he hasn't done in so, so long.

"You're gonna eat me out every day this summer," you moan. "Every. Fucking. Day."

"Yes," he groans, lapping up your juices like a thirsty man in the desert, tongue parting your swollen pussy lips to get at your honey, dipping his tongue inside as he moans against your flesh. Your whispered curses and soft whimpers spur him on, his lips closing around your needy clit and sucking.

"Fuck.. Joel, I-" you gasp. "I'm coming!" He wrenches climax after climax from you. until you're too sensitive and have to push him away. He relents, finally lifting his head, his eyes heavy-lidded, his chin glistening in the low light of the room.

You sit up, fixing your hair. "I expect you want me to return the favor?"

"Damn straight I want you to return the favor.. you started this, so you're gonna finish it, princess." He pulls down his cargo shorts and briefs in one go.

"You're the one who cornered me in your daughter's room. So technically you started it."

"Okay, alright, maybe I started it first," he concedes with irritation. "I don't care who started it. You're gonna finish it. Understand?"

"Is that an order, Uncle Grumpy?"

"Yeah, that's an order."

"I'll think about it." You get up to get dressed to go back to Sarah's. Joel watches you for a moment, his brow furrowed. "C'mon, you can't just leave me like this." He motions to his cock, angry and red and demanding your attention.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" Barely casting a glance behind you, you hide a little smirk.

His eyes darken with annoyance and irritation at your words. His hands clench and unclench as he gazes at you, frustrated and pent-up.

"Answer me," your sing-song tone gets under his skin. When he stays quiet you tilt your head at him, approaching him slowly as you perch yourself on the edge of the bed next to him. Your touch trails along the soft patch of hair on his thigh, moving upwards. His cock twitches and you smile. His balls are plump and full. The man probably hasn't shot a load into someone's hole in ages.

"What.. what was the question?" His brain goes foggy as you push him back, pressing kisses along his angry length.

"Say it. Say you're pathetic." You spit on his cock and start stroking him.

"I'm pathetic," he mutters, his tone low, the word slipping beween clenched teeth. There's fire in his eyes. He wants to split you open on his dick and you both know it.

"See? That wasn't so hard." You lap his dick with your tongue, teasing little kitten licks. "You're disgusting for being here with me," you continue with your censure of him. "Burying your face between my legs and eating me out like a starving man? Jesus, Joel. A grown man with a wife and child and you go searching for college pussy."

"A married man who hasn't been properly taken care of," he corrects you. "And you were into it, squirting all over me like a damn lawn hose."

"There are apps, you know. Hookups, casual sex, whatever you want. But you prefer to go to your best friend's daughter."

"I can't trust strangers, princess. Can't trust that they won't sell me out. But you know exactly who I am. You gonna rat me out?"

"Getting a little heated." You smirk, stroking him. "Promise you'll be nicer once you come?"

"You gonna actually let me come this time?"

This earns him a little chuckle from you. "I haven't decided yet."

Joel groans, both vexed and flustered by your teasing.

"Fucking touch me. You know you want to."

His eyes widen but he doesn't wait. He cups both your breasts in his hands, groping and hefting them in his palms, toying with your nipples. His mouth waters, his tongue wets his lips.

"Just like that. You like these, don't you?"

"Yeah, I love 'em."

Still stroking him you bring your swipe your thumb over his sensitive tip. "Show them some love, uncle."

Joel's mouth covers your bare skin, a low ragged moan leaving him as he kisses and latches onto you, his tongue moving in slow, hot laps over your flesh. His hands move to your back, his touch rough against your skin. "Fuck," you gasp, your cunt pulsing again. Joel lets out a growl against your skin, his tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake as he switches from one tit to the other, releasing it with a smacking pop.

You grab his hand and shove it to your entrance. "We're both gonna get each other off," you whisper, sighing as he slides two thick fingers into your sloppy pussy.

"This the only way you can get off? By bringing a man near to death with sexual torment? Or is it that you only get off with older men?"

"Shut up," you growl at him, gasping as his fingers move faster, curling against the sensitive spot inside.

"That's it, princess. You want it like this, huh?"

"Mmph. Yes, damn it."

He continues his pace, leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes widen as your lips meet. You hadn't expected him to kiss you. Before you know it you're coming again, moaning against his lips. "That's it.. good girl," he whispers, nipping at the corner of your lips. The way he says it only prolongs your need and you clamp down around his fingers. He groans and buries his face in your neck, working you through it as you keep stroking him. "Come for me," you command.

"Where, princess?"

You go to your knees, taking him in your mouth. Your hands on his thighs, he uses you, pulling your head down on him, hitting the back of your throat until he pulses in your mouth.

"God, you're amazing," he mutters, lifting you up. You press your lips to his, your tongue slipping past his lips, and his salty, sticky load goes into his mouth. He gasps, trying ot pull away, but you keep his head cupped and transfer every drop he gave you.

"Swallow," you command him, your fingers on his lips. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down, a slight grimace on his face as he swallows his own load.

dividers by @cafekitsune 👑

taglist: @iamladyp @cxrsed-angel @sawymredfox @aurorawritestoescape

@milla-frenchy @mani-pedro

@glitterspark @brittmb115 @vickie5446 @joelmillerswife9

@lestatismo @lizzie-cakes @ultra-nina-bella

[valevntine]

my hand slipped:

pic from here - it imprinted itself in the back of my mind for days what can i say . . .

(in my head this is whiskey but i also see silva 🙂‍↕️)

[pillbuggs]

Red, white, blue is in the sky Summer's in the air and baby Heaven's in your eyes ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

cowboy!Joel x farmer's daughter!reader ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[bluemusickid]

Scripted Hearts: Illusions in the Spotlight

Pairing: Young Actor!Joel Miller x Original!Fem!Reader

Series Warnings: 18+, fluff, a little angst, joel being joel, smut, smut, p in v sex, a lil slow burn, unprotected p in v (don't be sillyyyy wrap your willyyyyy), masturbation, oral sex (m and f receiving), rough sex, dom/sub dynamics (maybe), soft sex, MINORS DNI

A/N: Chapter 2, for Tumblr heyyooooo! I had this crossposted on AO3 quite some time ago and am in the process of writing chapter 3 and 4 simultaneously whatttttt. VV ambitious I know, especially that I am busier now, but when the muse strikes, she strikes HARDDD. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Likes are appreciated, reblogs are encouraged. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 2

LOS ANGELES

Clack, clack, clackity-clack, tap, tap.

The sound of Carla’s acrylics against her phone screen was driving you nuts. As was the feigned silence from your team, who were pretending to work on “other things”, as Andre put it. The room was bathed in deafening silence, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

When you had sent the all hands on deck text yesterday, you thought you would be in total control and calling the shots; but boy-oh-boy, were you wrong.

Carla was a force of nature after all. After your text, she had gathered a list of potential “boyfriends” who would pair well with you. What am I, a bottle of wine?! You thought indignantly. This was daunting, sure. But something felt off.

“Hey, Carla, I know I said yes and all…” you trailed off, hesitantly looking out of the window, your thoughts running through your head a mile a minute.

Carla stopped her typing. Turning her attention to you, she kept down her phone, putting her hand around you.

“Honey, I know. I know this goes against your principles. And trust me, if it weren’t for the position we’re in, I would laugh an idea like this away! We all would. But things have changed. No matter who started it, we’re gonna end it, and win it.” Taking a deep breath, she continued. “The tides have shifted, and we either go with the flow or get swept away, off course. Your choice.”

Crossing your arms, you looked to the floor. “Fine.” you heard yourself say. “Let’s see this rolodex of “hunky men” as you say.”

Carla squealed while Andre and Bella just let out a silent ‘thank god’ from behind.

“Ok so these are a few guys who I picked out yesterday at short notice. They’re all–what we would call–pre-discovery, to put it very kindly. Good at their work, just a little…down on their luck at the moment.”

You grimaced. That wasn’t the best way to put it, but Carla’s best trait was her honesty and what you valued the most. At times.

“Ok, hand ‘em over.”

Flipping through a stack of headshots, you took time to read about them, making mental notes about each one of them. They seemed to be great guys, but as you flipped through them, you didn’t feel any click. You needed someone who felt right, even at a glance but none of these people felt that way, nice as their list of accomplishments were.

Just as you were about to hand back the photos, a few fell on the floor. As you bent to pick them up, there was a flash that attracted your attention. Picking up the headshots in question, you zeroed in on what exactly had caught your eye. A pair of beautiful, deep brown eyes; the twinkle pronounced and striking, even on print. You then turned your attention to the man in question: handsome, a smirk adorning his face; his curly hair slightly flopping onto his forehead. You know you’re not meant to judge a book by its cover, but…

A symphony of people clearing their throats snapped you out of your thoughts. Turning around, you saw your team with cheesy smiles on their faces, their eyebrows raised in jest.

Rolling your eyes, you handed back the headshots, your choice made.

“So it looks like we found our winner, our knight-in-shining-Versace, Mr. Joel Miller! And hun-nyyy, is he gorgeousss!” whooped Andre, as Bella yanked the photo from his hand, jaw opening as she took him in.

“Guys, c’mon, this is an actual person we’re talking about; not a piece of meat, ok?” you grumbled.

Carla took a chair, frantically typing away on her laptop.

“W-waitwaitwait, what are you doing?” you exclaimed, her sudden movements giving you whiplash. If she wasn’t your agent and one of your closest friends, you swear you would’ve been more annoyed at her.

“Well, hun, now that you’ve made your choice, we don’t have a moment to lose! We need to get all the parties involved on board before either one of you goes on shoot to different places. The faster we get that squared away, the faster we can start our campaign, and just in time for the awards season.” she rattled off, stopping only to take a sip of her latte.

You took a deep breath. Okay, wow, this was actually happening. And pretty fast.

“Before we start all the paperwork and contracts and all that, I'd like to meet Joel Miller myself. You know, alone .” you said.

Raising her eyebrow, Carla said, “like a date?”

“No, not like a bloody date! Just– like a small orientation, maybe? Like how we welcome a new employee, that sorta thing?” you said shakily. “Look, we know how perceptive the public can be, and I want us to be convincing enough to pull it off, especially for a long time. So the more we hang out, the more comfortable we are with each other, and the more believable it will be! Sorta like a chemistry read, y’know?”

Pursing her lips, Carla’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, ultimately nodding her head as she went back to her typing. Andre and Bella were huddled up in the corner, updating and rechecking your schedule and your calendar.

The room was abuzz and charged with energy, and everyone had their own part to play. You being the main act on centre stage. You just hoped that whatever this little stint was with Joel Miller, ended as smoothly as it began. Because you were sure that if it went on to be something more, and feelings got involved, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. And that would never happen again. That’s a promise .

NEW YORK

Joel groaned as he wet a washcloth, dabbing his dress shirt to get rid of the food stains. He owned like, five good shirts and now he was down to four. All because of the sucky part time job he worked at the restaurant, or as he called it, Dante’s Inferno.

He desperately needed to book a new job or he would have to make this job permanent, and he would rather die than do that. God, please, please, pleaseeee let Becky call with some good news at least! he thought to himself, anguish setting into his mind and on his face.

The very next second, Joel’s phone buzzed in his pocket, with a call from Becky.

Damn, he thought, that was fast. And while you’re granting wishes, i’d also like a billion dollars, he chuckled, staring at the ceiling.

“Took you long enough!” Becky’s shrill voice rang through the phone.

“I’m at work; where’s the fire?” Joel drawled, ignoring her sassy tone.

“Well, there will be one under your ass if you don’t come to my office this very second! Ooh, and get me some garlic bread on your way.” she said, before cutting the call abruptly.

“Why yes Becky, I would love to. Would you like me to clean your house and do your laundry as well?” Joel muttered under his breath, as he gathered up his stuff to go to his agent’s office. At this point, why does she even bother calling me to her office, it’d be faster if she just told me the bad news over the phone.

Sighing, Joel slung his bag over his shoulder, clocking out of his job. Time to face the music.

DOWNTOWN

Joel made his way to Becky’s office, waving to Angela, her receptionist.

“There’s my superstar!” Angela guffawed, chuckling as he sent a wink her way.

“I didn’t think you’d mock me, Angie. I’m hurt.” Joel said, clutching his chest in mock pain.

“Oh hush you. Remember, I'm always bettin’ on ya. I know you’re gonna be a big movie star one day, and you’re gonna forget all about me.”

“If that ever happens, I give you full permission to kick my ass till I get to my senses.” Joel bowed his head in front of her.

“Great! Now can I get that in writing and attested by you?”

“Jeez, someone’s been binging Suits!” Joel smirked. “How’s Lord Commander doing?” Joel said, his voice dropping lower just in case Becky heard him.

“Oh you know how she is. But today she’s pretty excited, even said something about you getting an Emmy or somethin’.” Angie shrugged, shaking her head as she went back to her typing.

Joel snorted. “Clearly someone’s coming to work stoned.”

He knocked on the door, entering as he heard a muffled come in from inside.

“So, what’s the emergency? Which role did I NOT book this time?” Joel said, dryly.

“Ok first off, why are you assuming the worst?” Becky drawled, her eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“Oh, no, my mistake. I completely forgot the 3 leading roles I booked in the past 6 months which put me in the running for two Emmys and three Golden Globes! Silly ol’ me!” Joel bellowed, slapping his forehead in mock levity.

“Your sarcasm is your only ick, Joel Miller. But no, this isn’t bad news but rather, a golden opportunity which may actually help you get leading roles.”

Joel looked at her puzzled. Urging her on, he sat down at her desk, taking a swig of her coffee.

“(ugh). Ok, you know how I’d told you earlier that your luck might get better? Turns out, it’s happening already. I got a mail from Carla Anderson just now.”

“Carla Anderson being……” Joel looked on, confused.

“Ana Sharma’s agent and confidante, Carla Anderson! You haven’t heard of her?” Becky exclaimed.

“Umm nooo, but I have most certainly heard of Ana Sharma.” Joel froze. “Wait, am I going to be in a movie with Ana Sharma? THEE Ana Sharma?” he blurted, his hands slapping down on Becky’s desk.

“W-ell, no, not exactly a movie role, no. But her agent has asked if you would be willing to be her boyfriend for some time, Y’know, for PR purposes. And you know what I always say, any PR is good PR!” Becky said, a bit nervously.

Joel couldn’t believe his ears. Slowly, he sat down on the chair, his arms crossed as he stared at Becky’s face.

After a minute or two of excruciating silence, he spoke up, his voice a tad hoarse.

“Rebecca, could you explain this whole thing to me like I'm five? Huh? ‘Cos I don’t understand a fucking thing here.”

Becky took a long breath before she responded, “Look, I see you working hard and I really, really, really want to see you get what you want. Truly. But truth be told, there haven’t been many tugs on the line-” Becky glared at Joel as he was about to interrupt her, continuing after he shut his mouth, ”and while i’d like to wait and watch, i’m afraid we’re losing precious time.”

Taking his hand in hers, she continued, “Think of this as a stepping stone, for both of you. And trust me, by the end of it, you’ll get what you dream of: your scripts and roles of your choice, fame, luxury, the whole nine yards! But you need to use this launchpad instead of waiting for a miracle to happen.”

Joel sat there silently, absorbing her words. He wanted to take the high road, to tell Becky to fuck off with her shitty deals and instead focus on getting him roles. But in his heart of hearts, he knew what she was saying was true. It had been a hard few months and he couldn’t bear it anymore, one failed audition after another in a never ending vicious cycle. Something needed to change and fortunately for him, the opportunity had walked up to him. He would be a fool not to take it and make the most of it. Plus, a very big perk here would be pretending to be Ana Sharma’s boyfriend; the biggest perk of it all, albeit the whole thing being fake.

Joel chewed on his lip thoughtfully, his eyes finally meeting Becky’s eager ones. After a long moment of introspection, he let out a puff of air, shaking his head and shrugging as he said, “Fine. I’ll do it, I guess.”

Becky squealed, jumping up from her seat next to him to sit at her desk and send off mail, probably to Ana’s team.

“Oh and just one small thing: Ana has requested a small meetup with you before the whole campaign starts.”

If only Becky had taken a photo of Joel’s face after he heard that.

5 DAYS LATER- LOS ANGELES

After both the parties were on the same page, your respective teams had synced your calendars and your dates to schedule the coveted “first meeting”, before any paperwork was signed; prompting Joel to grumble that it would be easy for him considering ‘his calendar was emptier than his bank account’. He’d flown into LA two days ago, and was now on his way to the hotel room you had booked for the meeting. You didn’t want to risk people seeing the both of you and any photos being leaked to the press before anything became official; so a hotel room seemed to be the safest and best bet.

As you sat in the adjoining study slash living room of the suite, your mind wandered, cooking up all sorts of scenarios. You were the one who insisted on this meeting, then why were you feeling this nervous? And it’s not like it was a date – it was a business meeting if anything. It didn’t help that Joel Miller had eyes that made your heart beat just a tad faster; even through a picture. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath –control, Ana. It was just an arrangement and nothing else.

You felt him arrive before you even opened your eyes. Your skin prickled, breaking out into goosebumps as you heard a firm knock at the door. Making your way to the door, you shook off your nervousness as you opened the door, your eyes fixing onto his; as if you were already familiar with him. You gulped nervously; his pictures didn’t do him enough justice, he was even more gorgeous in person. You had to force yourself to stop staring and put on a small smile as you beckoned him in, checking both ends of the corridor to ensure that no one was watching.

He had a small grin on his face as he held out his hand for you to shake, his deep timbre voice making its way through your body, as his large hand engulfed yours. You could swear you felt a jolt of electricity running through your body as you shook his hand.

“Hi, I’m Joel Miller. Big fan of your work.” he said, a little breathily, waiting for you to sit so that he could take a seat himself.

You gestured for him to take a seat. “Ana Sharma, I’m a fan of your work too.”

Joel looked at you with trepidation, his eyebrow raised sardonically. “Wow, you do have a sense of humour. I think we’ll get along well.” he said dryly.

“Oh no..that’s not what I meant– I mean–” you stammered, fearing that you’d offended him in some way.

“I’m kidding, don’t worry. I don’t get offended easily, and I like to joke around sometimes. An important point to mention if we’re going to be “lovebirds.” ” he grinned, surveying the room with wide eyes.

You smiled. He had a certain charm to him, which was quite disarming and made you bring down your walls just a bit.

“I’ve seen a few episodes of your show, and you were really good in those, no lies!” you exclaimed, pouring him a glass of wine. He took the glass from your hand, his fingers lingering as he looked into your eyes and muttered thanks . Turning away from him, you exhaled out slightly – keep it together, it’ll all be fine.

Taking your place on the couch, you said, “I know this must’ve come as a shock and trust me –I wasn’t entirely on board. But I hope I can provide some clarity before we get our teams and paperwork involved; just a chance for us to find out if this truly will work without either parties getting hurt or worse– defamed. We can talk terms and then later on we can talk about compensation, if you’d like.” you reeled off, suddenly transitioning into business mode.

Joel blinked, clearly caught off guard by your sudden change in demeanour. “Umm, wow. That took quite a turn. But ok, let’s begin, I guess.”

You pulled out a diary from your bag, with a list of topics and questions you wanted to touch upon. Joel watched, wide eyed and rather amused at how organised you were. It made him feel quite unprepared, honestly; but he was too curious at the moment to dwell on the fact.

“Alright, so I’ve made a list of questions and topics that I want to get squared away from the get go, so that there isn’t any ambiguity on both sides. And I'd rather that we address them on our own without either of our teams getting involved; it’ll just make it messier if we involve them. Does that sound okay to you?”

Joel shrugged, nodding his head. ”I’m assuming you want to start.”

You let out a laugh, taking a sip of your wine. “Sorry, I guess I came on too strong. My bad, I'm quite particular about details and planning and such. A force of habit, sadly. You can start, if you want.”

Joel took a large swig from his glass, taking a handful of nuts from the crystal bowl, before beckoning to you. “You have the floor, ma’am. Honestly, I'm quite intrigued to see your list.”

Smiling, you shook your head as you glanced at your list.

“Ok so, I know how weird this all is at the outset, but I’d really appreciate it if we start slow. Like I’m not that into PDA and stuff so I’d prefer it if we didn't just outrightly start making out in front of the paparazzi. I’d like more of a buildup, if that makes sense?”

Joel purses his lips thoughtfully, nodding along. “I think that’s fair. So like, caught on a movie or dinner date, somethin�� like that?”

“Yes, exactly! It doesn’t have to be too in your face. We could then build up to the romance, like small kisses in the park, on dinners, things like that.”

“Okayyy….What about point number two?”

You take a deep breath. “This one’s…a bit weird. But necessary.”

Intrigued, Joel leaned forward. “Ooh, do tell.” he said, eyebrows wiggling.

“This arrangement is confusing as it is. Sure, we’ll have paperwork and terms and conditions and whatnot. But it’s only natural that either of us could end up feeling something or the other after spending a lot of time together. So I propose we have a list of rules.”

“…Rules? Like what? No sex or somethin’?”

You raised your eyebrows at that, surprised at his bluntness. Clearing your throat, you murmured, “I mean…yeah, kinda. Like, if we feel this getting a bit too confusing and overwhelming, we can have a meeting or something, just the two of us; without our teams to make sure we’re on the same page.”

You could feel yourself getting a tad antsy. You knew you weren’t meant to care if someone was judging you or your choices, but c’mon. Everyone in the world lived in the fear of being judged, and you were no different. The silence stretched out uncomfortably as Joel looked out of the window, deep in thought. You had to break it or it would drive you nuts.

“So….thoughts?”

Joel didn't say anything for a whole minute, as he looked at you with a small smile. He opened his mouth and shut it again, as he took a swig of his wine.

“Forgive me if this is too personal, and you can absolutely cuss me out if you feel so, but why did you agree to doing this?” he asked.

“…I mean, like I said, i’m doing this for the-”

“Yeah, no, I get the exposure part; and I’m on board with that too, obviously. But why did you even entertain it in the first place? An organized woman like you with so many accolades and achievements to your name, it just is intriguing to me that you agreed to this in the first place.”

“Because…” you trailed off, looking to the side, outside the window. He didn’t know but he had unwittingly chartered into deeper waters, something you weren’t prepared for when he had suggested this meeting. You didn’t think you’d have to explain it to him, or rather anybody, but then you went and said,

“Because I want to win.”

Joel merely raised an eyebrow, cocking his head and urging you on.

“I know it sounds vindictive…, and petty, but…I can’t let my ex win. I just can’t let him think that he has the upper hand. Especially when I’ve worked so hard to establish myself, working day and night in an industry that’s harder on its women; and a woman of colour, no less.”

Taking a sip of your wine, you walked over to the window, surveying the people way down below.

“I know it sounds bad when I put it like I wanted revenge, but it isn’t fair. He doesn’t get to just waltz away with his career and love life on track; while I have to bear the brunt of every cheesy low-life tabloid making a mockery of my life. I can’t even get a cup of coffee without a sleazy pap chasing me for an exclusive of the breakup. It just…pisses me off. That’s why I agreed to this; because in a way I could show him that he didn’t mean anything to me.”

Joel listened intently, pursing his lips as he absorbed your monologue. For some unknown reason, he wanted to punch the guy silly for hurting you. A woman he barely knew personally and yet, it felt like he knew you for a long time. A woman, much like himself, wanting to prove herself to this brutal world. And that thought wormed its way deep into the very cracks in his chest, firmly embedded inside. He walked over to you, resting his hip against the window frame as he faced you, arms crossed.

“I get it. I really do, and I’m completely on board. But I think you’ve made this into a task, rather than a goal oriented achievement.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the rules and everything are fine, and we can have those; but he didn’t play fair in the first place, did he?”

Taking in your perplexed face, he stepped closer, gesticulating with his hands.

“Look, I'll be honest, all I know about your relationship is from the tabloids and gossip sites, so I may be wrong. But he didn’t really tune down his new relationship, did he? He flaunts it, makes it a public spectacle, letting you take the fall, in a manner of speaking. So why do you want to tone it down anyway? I say make a big deal outta it. Throw it in his face, metaphorically speaking. Go all out!”

To say you were a bit taken aback would be an understatement. For all that was said, he didn’t seem like the type who would give a passionate soliloquy as he just did.

“I…I don’t think that would…”

“I know it isn’t your style per se, but in this industry, the more you show, the more you grow, pun not intended. I just think that we could have greater success by going all out but subtly.”

You stared at him, chewing on your lip thoughtfully.

“You seem to know a lot about this industry.” you muttered dryly, smirking as you saw his cheeks burn up.

“Yeah, well…if you’ve been here as long as I have, you learn a few things along the way…” Joel muttered, his face hardening slightly.

“So what are you suggesting? Paid pap walks and stuff like that?”

“Kinda. Maybe we go to get ice cream and get “accidentally” caught by the paps; or maybe we’re caught making out at a restaurant or a club or somethin’ like that, go for the kill sorta thing.”

“So all this is just an excuse to make out with me?” you said, unable to keep the teasing tune out of your voice.

He looked down, bashful and flustered as he looked up into your eyes, his deep brown ones shining in mirth.

“I don’t need an excuse to make out with you, sweetheart; just your unequivocal consent.” he said, his voice husky.

You tried to ignore the flutter you felt in your stomach when he called you that, the emotion settling in your chest threatening to come out. Focus, focus, focus on the goal.

Clearing your throat, you said, “So…rules.”

“Aah, those. Yea, we can do those. Lay ‘em on me.” Joel drawled, making his way to the couch, grimacing as he sat down.

Opening the diary, you reeled off what you had written down after staying up for two nights, needing them to be a perfect blend of flexible yet firm. It took you longer than you would've liked to admit, but it had to be perfect. Now especially, more than ever, that you had decided not to go mellow but all out instead.

“Ok, so I’ve divided them into three rough classifications: Emotional, Physical and Communication.” Joel smirked, his eyebrows raised in impressed wonder. This lady is…something else, he thought. A force to reckon with, no doubt.

You handed over the book to Joel for him to read them.

“Emotional: 1. No jealousy allowed. Each party is allowed to see other people if they wish to. 2. No flirting with each other unless for the cameras or paps. 3. And the most important, no falling in love. Physical: 1. No staying over at each other’s places. 2. No kissing unless the situation demands it. 3. Sleep in separate rooms if we travel together. 4. Holidays and events can be discussed in advance if need be Communication: 1. Always talk stuff out with each other before going to either parties’ teams. 2. Personal lives (either romantic or family) shall not be discussed 3. There will be a code word discussed if either party is not comfortable about anything. 4. Families will not be involved unless absolutely necessary. 5. The relationship shall lapse after a stipulated time period, following which both parties go their own way.”

Joel read every word thoroughly, his eyes widening as he took in each rule. You had given this a LOT of thought, clearly. Reading through the list made him realise one thing very clearly: this was all done out of hurt, because of your douche of an ex. And for some reason, he hated that. And he hated your ex. Why though? Joel didn’t really have any reason to, not like he knew you well, you guys had JUST met. He reasoned it to be the fact that you seemed like a nice girl and didn’t deserve to be hurt this way. But deep down, he knew that it wasn’t the truth.

“So, what do you think?” your angelic lilting voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“I think that this was the most comprehensive set of rules I’ve read since I learnt how to play poker.” Joel smirked. “But yeah, all this seems fine, I guess.”

“Great! I’ll have my team add it up in the contract. For now, let’s just call our teams up here so that we can catch them upto speed.”

“Wait.” Joel quickly exclaimed. You stopped in your tracks, looking at him quizzically.

“What happens if either one of us breaks the rules?”

You stared at him, not realising that this was one eventuality you had been dreading to address.

“W-ell….that’s one bridge we’ll cross if and when we get there, I presume. But I don’t think either of us will. Too much at stake, right?”

Joel stared at you, emotions swirling deep in his chest. He couldn’t speak, so he stuck to nodding and giving you a small smile.

You turned towards the bedroom, typing on your phone as you made your way there. Hearing a knock at the door, Joel made his way to it and opened it, only to find both your managers standing on the other side. Silently, he stepped aside as he let the ladies in as they were deeply engrossed in their own chat. Shaking his head, he made his way to the living area, where you stood, a bottle of champagne in your hands.

Clearing your throat, you looked at both the women till they looked at you.

“So, Joel and I had a chat and discussed all the open points on the table today. And Joel has agreed to the rules that I had put forward. The plan is on, ladies. We can go ahead with this campaign.” you flourished, a huge smile adorning your face.

Carla and Becky squealed, running to hug the both of you as their words of wonder overlapped each other. Joel returned their hugs, his chest feeling a bit heavy. Was he making a mistake? He knew that he had agreed to this, but that was before. It was when he had only seen Ana Sharma on a magazine cover, or on the big screen. Meeting her in person, albeit only for a little while; had made him feel a bit conflicted. Shaking away his thoughts, he turned his attention back to you speaking.

“Here’s to a successful campaign which will hopefully put the both of us at the top of the leaderboard of the industry! Cheers!”

Everyone clinked their glasses together, sipping on the crisp drink as they began planning their next steps forward, talking about syncing your calendars and schedules and the meeting with the lawyers.

But in the midst of it all, were two people who stared into each other's eyes. They hadn’t realised it yet, but this “campaign” would change their lives forever. The enormity of it hadn’t sunk in yet, but they knew. They knew that the rules would be tough to follow, that it would be tough not to be something after this. Call it denial, or call it blind optimism. As they both looked at each other, one thing was sure; hearts were going to be broken.

____________________________________________________________

[vindictivegranny]

WIP Wednesday

thanks for the tag dear cha @bergamote-catsandbooks 🩷🧡💛

This is a slightly nsfw & unedited bit of my current dincobb sequel, which i'm really hoping to post next month (it's 3k already but they still have their clothes on *sigh*)

"Take my cloak," Din forces the words out, aiming for casual - which means his voice appears entirely flat through the vocoder.

Cobb does, but he doesn’t look away from Din. "Am I underdressed?"

"No, I-" Din sighs, frustration heavy on his shoulders. "Thought I’d replace your shawl. You seem uncomfortable without something around your neck."

There’s a long, pregnant bit of silence, then Cobb barks out a raspy, delighted peal of laughter. "Darlin’, listen, I don’t think you’re quite ready to get into my choking kink right now."

A violent, scorching sensation zings through Din’s chest and groin and he twists his head left and right to survey their surroundings, heart beating a bit too fast. "Uh-Not exactly what I meant," he says, awkward as all hell, feeling oddly naked even in full beskar’gam.

"M’sorry I turned it into a joke, then," Cobb says instantly, apologising like it’s the most natural thing in the world; Din does admire how easily Cobb approaches his feelings sometimes. "This is very thoughtful, I appreciate it."

pressure tagging: @bergamote-catsandbooks @probablyreadinsmut @dontlookatme121 @baronessvonglitter @consultingzoologist @syd-djarin @sp00kymulderr @mandaloriankait @nonbinairyboi @idreadthenight @discopartydruid @wastingstarlight @langdonmd @eyeneversleep @brunetterebel010 @edgerunnr ⭐️💕 please give me all the ppcu + pitt feels

[myownwholewildworld]

gif by @\watchbroken

“you ain’t falling asleep again” — an oldman!joel miller drabble

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: oldman!jackson!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel takes viagra and can't keep it down. he decides you can help. and the glasses stay on. a/n: please everyone say, THANK YOU SYD @syd-djarin !! i wouldn’t have written this if it wasn’t for you! tysm for allowing me to be shamelessly feral and for cheering me on, you know i love ya <3 anyways, hope you guys like this drabble, i am ovulating. heed the warnings and enjoyyyy xx tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. pwp. filthy smut. the old man’s glasses stay on. breeding kink. consensual somno. use of viagra. brief reference to a limp dick situation cause it’s hot. period sex and descriptions of period blood. joel goes down to town on you (f!oral), so vampire!joel if you wish cause he loves it. fingering. unprotected piv. creampie. age gap, no age gap, your choice. no description of reader other than afab. unedited, soz, i'm horny and i wanted this out asap. w/c: ~1.8k

Joel resented you. Really did.

You were sprawled across his bedsheets, legs splayed without a worry in the world. And here he was, on the rocking chair facing the bed in his Jackson home, watching you enjoy your beauty sleep, while his cock beat hard on his calloused hand.

He’d definitely overdone it with the viagra. At the tender age of sixty-one, Joel sometimes needed a bit of help to get him going. The first time he’d remained limp on your hand, despite your best efforts, had really stuck with him. Truth be told, that hadn’t stopped you from sucking him off, giggling and drooling all over his dick. But still, it embarrassed him. So, when Joel had the chance to trade for some pills, he did.

And now he had to deal with the consequences of his actions. He’d been railing you all night till the first lights glittered in his room—your beautiful body bouncing on his cock while the light reflected off the sweaty drops kissing your skin. But unlike him, you were spent and in much need of some rest.

Joel, on the other hand, had not been able to go back to sleep. As soon as he heard your soft, cute snores, his veiny cock had hardened again. Unconsciously his eyes darted to the sweet nook between your thighs. He really had the best view from here, eagerly watching his spent dripping down your slick slit.

The chair rocked under him, his big hand palming the growing erection, his eyes roving over every delicious curve of your body. And then something caught his eye—the cum leaking from your pussy was no longer white, but a shade of pink.

Joel sat on the verge of the rocking chair, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose to have a better look. No, his old man’s sight wasn’t betraying him—you really were bleeding.

His cock had a mind of its own, reacting to the call of nature in the most primal way. Joel tugged at his shaft, squeezing himself tight while a pearl of precum adorned his flushed cockhead. Your period couldn’t have come at a better time. Joel thoroughly enjoyed himself when that time of the month arrived—a reminder of how breedable you were.

Joel stood up, throbbing cock on hand and his cracking knees betraying his moves. He couldn’t just stay put any longer—surely, you’d understand that he was compelled to do this. That he just couldn’t stop himself, not when you were freely bleeding on his white bedsheets.

You stirred a bit when the wooden floor creaked beneath his weight, but your eyes stayed shut. Joel tiptoed to the foot of the bed and carefully sat on the mattress. Up close, he inspected your cunt with diligence. Your pussy was still gushing out his pinkish cum, but he needed to see red.

Bunching the bedsheets on his fist, Joel swiped your seam clean, his thumb stroking your entrance through the fabric to ensure no remnants were left behind. Once he was satisfied, he laid on his tummy and moved your legs, so the back of your knees rested on his shoulders. Now he could really see your slick cunt up close.

Joel spread your pussy lips, coaxing them apart to stretch your crying hole. A few seconds later, he was gifted with a glob of blood. He thumbed your clit softly, coaching your cunt to leak some more period blood for him, and you quietly squirmed. Another red bubble dripped down your fold, smearing your sweet puffy lips, staining his sheets. His eyes locked in on your beating bud, and he just knew what he had to do.

Hypnotised by the sensuality of it all, Joel leaned in and kissed your begging clit. The fingers that were stretching your lips open for him travelled down your glistening seam until they reached your bloodied opening. Without even doubting himself, Joel shoved his middle and ring ringers in your wet warmth, the squelching of your blood almost making him feel dizzy with lust.

Joel suckled on your clit, your thighs trembling against his ears, and then his mouth dropped. He removed his fingers from your tight hole and coated the skin of your inner thigh with your own blood while his tongue dived in.

Your pussy tasted divine. Metallic, fertile, slightly bitter. His favourite flavour, that was for sure. When Joel lapped your whole seam, from your seeping entrance, through your clit, to your mound, he felt your hand fisting his salt-and-pepper curls.

“Joel… What are you…” you trailed off sleepily, moaning as your back arched off the mattress.

Joel looked up at you, smirking like the devil he was.

“Just let me have this,” he almost implored, pecking the bloody fingerprints he’d left behind on your inner thigh.

“Are you… are you still hard?” you managed to croak out, eyes fluttering shut when Joel latched on your clit again.

“Mhm,” he mumbled, mouth full of you.

Joel alternated between fingering you and prodding your hole with the tip of his tongue, drunk with your iron-like tang, thumb pressing tight circles on your clit. And he truly didn’t stop until your legs were shaking uncontrollably around him and you were mewling your pleasure, your wails echoing in his bedroom.

With a bit more of encouragement, you finally came in his mouth. Joel didn’t hesitate to drink everything your cunt oozed out—the period blood mixing with your cream was his personal nectar. His favourite breakfast. He shamelessly licked your folds and hole clean, revelling in how your entrance quivered around the tip of his tongue when he poked at it.

Your mind was still hazy with the ghost memory of your wet dream, but Joel eating your bloody pussy out definitely had you delirious. This old man of yours knew no shame, no hard limits. And you loved him for it.

When Joel emerged from between your thighs, you gasped, and your pussy gushed. His beard was covered in your period blood, even his cheeks were smudged. And Joel just… looked so chuffed about it all, it made you smile back at him.

You glanced down at his lap when he knelt between your legs, his broad hands resting on your knees to part your thighs for him. His stiff cock greeted you, swaying and throbbing. He was about to fucking explode, so red and swollen, leaking precum everywhere—you truly feared for his wellbeing.

“Fuck, Joel…” You bit down your plump bottom lip, eyes focused on his dick. “How many pills did you take?”

“Two. I wasn’t sure if one was enough, needed to make sure I could fuck you all night long,” he admitted, tapping your clit a few times with his warm, tacky cockhead. “And then you fucking bail on me, falling asleep and leaving me hanging.”

Before you could defend yourself, Joel buried himself in you down to the fucking hilt in one smooth thrust. You braced yourself and grabbed at his forearms, back arched so much that your nipples were kissing his naked chest.

Without exchanging another word, Joel began railing you hard, his throbbing cock growing inside you, impossibly so. He filled your entire pussy, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix every time he hammered in. No thoughts formed in your brain, you could only moan and sob and scream his name so everyone in Jackson would know you were getting your guts fucked.

Joel imposed a punishing pace, anchoring his hands to the headboard while his hips slammed against yours, the clapping of skin on skin competing with your loud groans. His mushroom head dragged alongside your anterior wall every time he ploughed you, rubbing that precise spongey spot inside you that made your pussy hug him tighter.

You just managed to open your eyes and glance up at him. He was gorgeous, the most handsome man you’d ever had the pleasure to meet. And he was all yours.

With every plunge, his old man’s glasses slipped further down the bridge of his aquiline nose, until they caught on the tip of his nose. The glass was all foggy now, and you were almost sure Joel couldn’t see shit right now. The picture made you smirk, but his incessant shoves forced your mouth to shape a perfect O before you began moaning his full name again.

Joel was fucking you so hard into the mattress, the precarious balance of his glasses gave way, and the frames fell onto your chest. Without thinking, you snatched them to put them on back on his nose but then you thought better of it. Instead, you put them on and looked up at him with a sly grin—it was all blurry, but could still make out his face and feral eyes.

“Fucking beautiful,” he husked out.

You felt the pulse emitted by his girthy cock, and the threat of his orgasm called to yours. When the first ropes hit your cervix, you came with him, your pussy milking him dry of every single drop he fed you. Joel filled you up to the brim with his cum and not satisfied with it, he fucked his spent into you for a couple of minutes while your used cunt spasmed around him.

You were truly spent, laboriously breathing, your heart racing wild in your chest. Joel was heaving too, and his greying brows furrowed when his cock left your entrails.

You couldn’t help but look down—you had left pink creamy rings on his hard cock, a mixture of your juices, his cum and your period blood. And when you peeked over at your pussy, you sighed. Yes, your pussy was smeared red, your inner thighs too, and you were still bleeding onto his sheets.

You should have felt slightly embarrassed, but knowing how much Joel enjoyed you on your period, well... there was literally nothing to be shy about. As a matter of fact, you had been waiting for this time of the month to come, because you just knew that Joel would be feral about you.

Letting your head fall back for a breather, you felt Joel pet your overstimulated clit. You whimpered a little, your nerve endings flaring alive, almost painfully, and your brows bunching together in concentration.

You managed to open your eyes again, and then you realised. He was still hard. Very much so.

“You ain’t falling asleep again,” he groaned, pointing an accusatory bloody finger at you. “‘M not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

He was right. Joel didn’t let you.

[ohhoneypascal]

“Say goodnight to uncle grumpy”

Brb while I’ll fucking cry

[mrsmandalorian]

short n' sweet tour

--pedro pascal x singer!f!reader

summary: on the debut night of your arena tour, you pull out all the cheeky tricks to grab Pedro's attention while the crowd goes wild.-this fic features a tiny bit of 'Bed Chem" and the whole song of 'Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter !!

lyrical genius masterlist / main masterlist / wc:4.9K

warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, smut!!!, and fluff!, p in v, hard and quick FUCK, sexual TEASING, pet names, pillow humping, dry humping, wandering hands, makeout.

a/n: the next part is finally here! thank you for all the love on this series. hope you guys enjoy this part! pls leave some feedback and let me know what you guys might be interested in seeing in the future! much love, maddie <3

The electricity from the crowd vibrates backstage as you nervously wait for your cue to run onstage. All the hard work throughout your career has led to this moment—the first concert of your North American leg of the arena tour. It started in  Staples Center in Los Angeles and concludes in Sweden next year. 

The pre-show recording starts as your team quickly helps you with your earpiece and offers words of encouragement. Take a few deep breaths to calm your nerves as you hear the team start a countdown to your entrance over the earpiece. 

“Three, two, one-go, go!” the stage manager says from behind you.

As the crowd roars, you dash onto the elaborate stage to begin the show with one of your many comedy bits, acting as if you are half-ready for the show to start, still in your sequined bath towel. You finally end up center stage to find your microphone and strip from your fake towel to a custom sparkling bodysuit with sheer sparkling tights, which causes an uproar from your fans. 

Looking into the sea of people and phones, you give your best smile and take the moment as best as possible. The tune of your first song starts as your dancers slowly come out to join you on stage. It was showtime. 

The crowd was whole of thousands of fans and familiar faces from family, friends, and celebrities. The cheers and joy in the room made all the struggles and hard work behind the music worthwhile. The impact your music has on people truly makes it all significant. You released your album, and it was a fantastic experience; it topped the charts for weeks and went viral on social media. It has undoubtedly been the best year of your life. Your career has already taken off, but the overwhelming success you've experienced in the last six months has been remarkable in more ways than one.

Your nerves disappear as you sing through the setlist and entertain your fans with your cheeky comedy bits and lovable personality. Your setlist consists of songs from your new album, older hits and gems, and karaoke from your favorite artists. Much like your most recent singles, your latest album is very sex-positive and cheeky, which sets your performance to the same tone. You were expecting a good reaction from the crowd, especially someone. 

After a few songs and the addition of a sheer robe, it was finally time for one of your more sexual songs off your album, Bed Chem, which had a very sensual tone of dance to it. The lights dim as you get into position on a retro circular bed part of your elaborate makeshift apartment stage. You position yourself seductively in the middle as you stare up at the camera above you, which will project onto the large screens for the audience. 

The song starts as you twirl your hair with a massive smirk. As you go through the first few lyrics on the set bed all by yourself, you can't help but imagine your bed chemistry with your lover, Pedro, which causes you to blush heavily. 

Your imagination halts as your dancers join you on the bed to continue the song and choreography. The canopy opens to the audience, but you have been so caught up in your performance that you haven't taken a second to look at those chocolate eyes in the audience. 

As you continue the song sensually and playfully, you are met at the edge of the bed with your dancers. Staring into the crowd to find his eyes, you meet them with a large smirk, holding them as you sing the following few lines. 

“And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time (bed chem)

And I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine (bed chem)

And I bet it's even better than in my head (my, ooh).”

Your gazes hold until you give him a wink, which earns you a smirk and wink back from him. The tension between you and him burned hotter than the stage lights, igniting every inch of you—even in a room packed with thousands. You were so smitten with him as you continued your choreography with your female dancers. 

During the song's outro, the ladies leave you to dance with the guys as you kneel on the bed. One of the male dancers joins you, holding a camcorder that projects onto the screens, and he joins you on the bed. Playfully actingout a scene with him until the canopy curtain closes and your reflections show you both undress and embrace onto the bed as the lights dim to darkness. 

After the song ends, the crowd erupts, and you run backstage for your first outfit. As you change, one of your few mini videos and dancers entertain the audience. Touching up your makeup and dabbing the sweat from your brow, you quickly grab your phone to send Pedro a selfie of you winking and making a kissy face: “All for you, baby.” 

The concert flows on—another outfit change, playful banter, and electrifying moments with the crowd—all in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the thoughts of your irresistibly fine man. After an intensely emotional song, your setlist picks back up with cheerful, fun music that has gone viral for your whole tour. You walk yourself down in your long, custom, sexy dress down the catwalk of the stage as you talk with the crowd. You compliment and express your gratitude to your fans as you prepare for the next song. Before the song, your team and you have been doing a comedy bit before to give the spotlight to a fan. 

You complimented the crowd on their fabulous outfits, which you knew took them a while to pick out or make. The best part of the bit happened once your dancers joined you just off the main stage onto the catwalk. 

“Oh my, everyone, look! Who is this hottie in the front row right here?” You let out a shocked expression as you fan your face dramatically. The camera for the large screens directs the camera to the person you are referring to, who happens to be Lux Pascal. The crowd goes wild as Lux starts to blush. “ You are breathtaking! Whoever made you, God bless them. God bless their genetics.” You joke with her as you twist your hair in a fake, flirtatious way. “Um, what's your name, gorgeous?” 

The camera pans back to Lux, where she plays her part and screams, “Lux!” to you. You both laugh together. “Such a beautiful name! Our names would be perfect for us to be in a relationship together. Oh my god! My clothes just fell off thinking about us. I will have to arrest you for being too hot!” You say as your long skirt falls to reveal your shorter skirt underneath. A brief glimpse of Pedro standing beside his sisters and your friends sends the arena into a deafening uproar, the sheer volume making you giggle into the microphone.

Your dancer hands you a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs, which you give to the security guard with a wink and blow a kiss to Lux before you start to get into position for the next song, which the intro has begun. 

The dancer brought a chair for you to sit in between them to start the song. They all still wave and send Lux flirtatious signals as part of the bit. The music begins, which causes you to smirk because of the context. 

“Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing

Oh yeah, you just get it (get it)

Whole package, babe, I like the way You don'tt

God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh”

You promise yourself just one glance. Flashing him your brightest grin, your eyes meet him—and the instant connection sends a deep blush rushing to your cheeks. It remains on your face throughout the song as you continue to sing. 

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?

Oh, I hear you knockin', baby, come on up”

“I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love (Oh)”

Your blush never fades as you pour yourself into the sultry song about your lover, every lyric a teasing confession. Your movements are sensual and playful, and the choreography pulls the audience deeper into your world. They sing along to every word, their energy electrifying, reminding you that moments like this make it all worth it.

“I showed my friends, then we high-fived (Ah-ah)

Sorry if you feel objеctified (Ah-ah)

Can't help myself; hormonеs are high

Give me more than just some butterflies”

You quickly make your way down the catwalk as you sing and dance, smiling at the sea of people around. You get right to the tip of the heart at the end of the stage and give your cheekiest smile. 

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out some freaky positions?

Have you ever tried this one?”

As the lyrics leave your lips, you drop to your hands and knees at the center of the heart-shaped stage, rocking your hips in a slow, sensual tease. With a playful bite of your lip and a cheeky wink to the crowd, the message is crystal clear. The arena erupts at the bold display, but you’re already back on your feet, slipping seamlessly into the next move. The cameras cut to Pedro—his head shaking, a knowing smile on his lips as he chuckles with your friends. The stage slowly rises above the crowd as you continue to sing. 

I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love

“Alright, LA, sing this next part with me at the top of your lungs!” you exclaimed to the crowd, shimmering in the air. “Let me hear every single one of you!” You seamlessly kneel and place your hand on your chest as you sing the bridge. 

“Adore me

Hold me and explore me

Mark your territory (Ah-ah)

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one (Ah-ah)

Adore me

Hold me and explore me (Ah-ah)

I'm so fuckin' horny

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one”

Behind you, the screen flashes the song’s lyrics in bold, glowing letters, each word pulsing with the rhythm. As you reach the bridge, your mind drifts—those lyrics, once just melodies, now feel like a private confession, each line a tantalizing reminder of your lover. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep singing, letting the emotion seep into every note.

“(Oh, I) I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might (Might)

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love”

The concert rolls on for a few more songs, each moment more electrifying than the last. A hint of sadness creeps in as the night nears its end, but the thrill of an unforgettable show lingers. Still, excitement bubbles within you—soon, you’ll be backstage, ready to celebrate a night that was nothing short of magic.

“LA, this has been the most unforgettable night of my life. My first big tour, my first night, and I got to spend it with you. I can’t even put into words how much this means to me—how much you mean to me. Thank you for believing in me, for screaming with me, and for making this dream a reality. I’ll never forget this night… unless the adrenaline wears off and I completely black out. But seriously, I love you all more than words can say. Thank you for everything!” You express your gratitude, trying not to get too emotional about the overwhelming feeling. You gently wipe your few happy tears from your face.

You blow kisses and wave as you gracefully go backstage with your dancers. Your team is waiting for you to help take your earpiece out and celebrate with you. They all give you compliments and congratulations. If there is any criticism, they will let you know tomorrow. 

After returning to the greenroom, the energy from the performance is still buzzing through your veins, and your friends and family pour in from the audience. Laughter and praise fill the space as they hug you and gush about their favorite moments of the show. Their words warm your heart, but before you can respond to them all, a familiar touch sends a shiver up your spine.  

Strong, warm hands settle on your hips, grounding you instantly. You turn swiftly, already knowing who they belong to, and are met with Pedro’s soft, adoring smile. Before you can say a word, he pulls you into his embrace, his scent wrapping around you like a comforting haze.  

“You were incredible, baby,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride. His hands trail down the fabric of your outfit, savoring the texture beneath his fingertips. The simple gesture sends a wave of goosebumps across your skin, and you can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch.  

Still basking in the moment, you slowly pull away just enough to meet his gaze, your voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you,” you whisper, the connection lingering between you.  

With his presence still humming through you, you turn back to your loved ones, laughter, and conversation effortlessly filling the space once more.

As the last of your friends and family trickle out of the arena, heading off to prepare for a celebratory late dinner, you stay behind in your dressing room, savoring the moment. Pedro remains by your side, a comforting presence as you decompress from the night. The air between you crackles with unspoken energy, and it’s clear you both can’t keep your hands to yourselves.

“You were quite the tease during your set, angel,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. His warmth envelops you as you sit on the small couch, his hands exploring your body with a playful familiarity. You giggle at his words, nodding in agreement, the tension between you both palpable.

“You knew exactly what you were doing to me,” he adds, his fingers dancing along your waist, drawing you closer. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that sends your heart racing. “I’d love to see your stage set.”

A rush of excitement floods through you, your smile growing as you meet his gaze. “I’d love to show you,” you say, your voice soft but laced with promise. Taking his hand, you lead him toward the stage door, the lingering buzz of the night still thick in the air. A few crew members move about, cleaning up and prepping for tomorrow’s show, but your focus is entirely on him.

Waltzing onto the stage, you gesture to the elaborate setup, walking him through the details as you chat about your performance. His hands never leave you, fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin as he listens intently, slipping in jokes that send both of you into laughter.

But as you near the infamous round-shaped bed at center stage, warmth floods your cheeks. His smirk deepens. “You looked blissful the whole night,” he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. “But there were two moments you looked absolutely delectable.”

His lips brush your neck, trailing soft, lingering kisses that send a shiver through you. A nervous giggle escapes as you instinctively tilt your head, granting him more access. Slowly, he eases you back onto the bed, his touch growing more assured, guiding you into surrender.

That’s what you do—surrender to him. It had been weeks since your schedules aligned, since you’d had a moment like this, and you weren’t about to waste it. You let him take control, guiding your body with ease, his fingers threading through your hair as his lips capture yours in a slow, lingering kiss.

A soft whimper escapes as he presses closer, his hands trailing down the front of your body, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “You were such a tease tonight, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and thick with amusement. His grip tightens around your thigh as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The warmth of his body and how he moves against you sends a shiver through you, the anticipation crackling between you like electricity. “I think you might have been trying to get a reaction out of me.”

His hips dip into yours as you feel his warmth glide against yours, which causes you to squeeze your legs around me. His hands wander down to your bum, and he holds you close for a moment. With one swift movement, he flips you and positions you on top of him. Gripping your ass before giving a quick slap against your behind, which causes you to let out a yelp. You bury your head into his chest because you are embarrassed by being too loud and getting caught.

He gives you two more slaps that make you whimper against him and cause him to snicker. “Two can play the game, love,” he says as he grips your hips and pushes you against his clothed member. You buck your hips to create some friction between the two of you, which makes you let out the slightest whimper in need. His hand remains on your hips as you throw your head back as you let yourself hump him against him. He enables you to ride him as his hands roam towards your breast and knead them roughly, which causes a noise of frustration to erupt out of you. The slickness in your panties makes your determined hips work furiously against his hardened member. 

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice Pedro’s smirk, the glint of mischief in his eyes. He had a plan—one carefully crafted to make you pay for every playful tease, every bold move you pulled on stage.

Your breath hitched as his hands moved with deliberate slowness, his touch both gentle and commanding. “You had your fun tonight,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Now it’s my turn.”

With a wicked smirk, he tightens his grip for just a moment before effortlessly sliding you off his lap, the loss of his warmth sending a desperate ache through your body. His hands linger—slow, deliberate—tracing over your skin as if memorizing every inch of you. Then, just as your breath catches in anticipation, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. It’s tender, almost reverent, yet it only leaves you craving more.

As he rises, his gaze locks onto yours, dark with satisfaction, knowing exactly what he’s done. Without another word, he strides off the stage, vanishing into the shadows, leaving you there—breathless, flushed, and utterly undone, your body still humming with the need only he can satisfy.

For a moment, you lay there, catching your breath, your mind racing. You wouldn’t let this old dog win—not yet. Your teasing wasn’t over. But damn him, he’d left behind something deeper than just a game. The ache he ignited wasn’t one to be toyed with; it demanded more than just playful taunts. It needed to be answered.

Your body still burned from his touch, every nerve alive with the memory of him. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on your skin, the soft press of his kiss on the top of your head—a contradiction of tenderness and control that made your pulse quicken.

No, this wasn’t over. But first, you had to deal with the fire he’d so effortlessly set ablaze.

And that’s just what you start to do. 

Slowly, you push yourself up, your body still humming with the aftershocks of his touch. A quick glance around confirms what you already suspected—the crew has cleared out for the evening, leaving the stage bathed in dim, moody light, the perfect setting for what you’re about to do.  

A wicked smirk tugs at your lips as anticipation curls low in your stomach. If he thought he could leave you like this, aching and undone, he had another thing coming. This wasn’t just about need; it was about control and claiming the upper hand. And what better way than here, on his stage, where every move was meant to captivate an audience?  

Especially when that audience was him.  

With a slow, deliberate breath, you step back onto the fluffy pillow-covered bed, already imagining the look on his face when he realizes just what kind of show you’re about to put on.

You glance across the bed, your eyes drifting over the pleasurable options laid before you, each a temptation, a promise. The sight alone tugs you back to past nights, to the moments when distance kept you apart but never truly separated. You’ve performed this wicked little act for him before, in the privacy of your own home, a sinful display meant only for his eyes—his voice in your ear, coaxing, commanding, praising.

But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, this is your stage. Your domain.

The empty venue hums with silence, the stage lights casting a soft glow, illuminating the space where you captivate crowds with every note you sing. But now, there’s only one audience member you care about. He thinks he’s won, leaving you breathless and aching, but you smirk to yourself—this game is far from over. 

Your hands find the subject to your pleasure, which happens to be the firmest and fluffiest pillow on the bed. You mount the pillow as you had just previously mounted your lover. Your determined hips start at work again, creating your own friction against the softness of the pillow against your soaked panties. You couldn't hold back your soft moans as you rode in a familiar rhythm. 

Caught up in your own pleasure, you barely registered the weight of unseen eyes on you—though deep down, you felt it. That familiar heat, that electric prickle along your skin, warning you that you weren’t alone. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.  

The game, the teasing, the push and pull—it all faded into something raw, something uncontrollable. You weren’t performing anymore. This wasn’t for show. This was need, pure and aching, a fire burning too hot to be tamed.  

Your breath hitched, your body surrendering to the moment, lost in sensation, in the hunger that refused to be ignored. And somewhere, hidden in the shadows, he watched. Silent. Waiting. Taking in every movement, every sound, every unguarded moment of you unraveling before him.

Before you knew it, rough, familiar hands were on you—firm, possessive, claiming what had always been his. A sharp gasp slipped from your lips, quickly followed by a frustrated groan. You had been so close, teetering on the edge, almost lost in your own pleasure, only to have him interrupt just as you were about to tip over.

But even through the frustration, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

His touch and presence were precisely what you had been craving all along. The heat of his body pressed against yours, the unmistakable dominance in his grip, the way his breath fanned hot against your skin. He had been watching, waiting, letting you think you had control. But now, he was done watching.

His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, his voice dark and dripping with satisfaction. "Did you really think I'd let you finish without me?" His fingers tightened, his body caging you in, making it clear—you weren’t going anywhere. "You put on quite the show, sweetheart… but now, it’s my turn."

Hands worked quickly, rough and unyielding, as he maneuvered you with ease—his strength undeniable, his intent unmistakable. Before you could catch your breath, you found yourself in the position you had so proudly displayed in your performance tonight, the one meant to tease, torment, and tempt him beyond reason.  

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, his grip firm as he held you there, ensuring you understood exactly what would happen. His lips barely grazed your skin, his breath hot and taunting. "You wanted my attention, didn’t you?" he murmured, his voice laced with hunger. "Now you have it. Let’s see if you can handle what you’ve been begging for."

His boldness caught you off guard as you felt your slickness become bare, and the sound of pants unzipping rang through your ears. Before you knew it, his thickness probed at your walls, determined to finish what you both had started. His fingers make quick work to find your bundle of nerves, forcing you to moan deeply into the pillows. 

His hands gripped your hips firmly, but his eyes flickered to the pillow beneath you—still damp with your wetness, carrying the intoxicating scent of your need. The sight of it, the evidence of just how lost you had been in your own pleasure before he caught you, sent a dark, satisfied smirk across his lips.

"Look at this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as his fingers ghosted over the damp fabric. "You were really putting on a show for me, weren’t you?"

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as his hands worked quickly, positioning you exactly how you had so boldly displayed yourself during your performance. "But now that I’m here," he continued, voice dripping with wicked promise, "let’s see if you can handle what you were begging for."

His promise was quickly answered as his hips brutally thrust into trying to relieve his ache of desire as well as yours. All at once, his thrust and fingers worked you up to mold effortlessly beneath his movements. You were moaning and gripping onto the fuzzy bed before you knew it. You heard his groans as you both were about to finish in sync. There was no more game at play, so you relinquished it and rode out your high together as he moaned heavily into your ear. His heavy moans are replaced with deep gasps from exhaustion, which match yours, and an adoring smirk on both of your faces. 

"I guess this means the war is over," you murmur, your breath still uneven as he eases away gently, cleaning himself off with slow, deliberate movements.

He exhales a quiet chuckle, his smirk softened but still present. "Maybe," he muses, casting you a knowing glance. "Or maybe we just found a new way to fight."

His fingers trail over your skin one last time before he leans back, watching you with the kind of satisfaction that promises—truce or not—this was far from the end.

In quick motion, he finds your discarded panties, using them to clean the two of you the best for the situation. He leaves kisses down your body as he does so, being the gentle lover again. He might fuck hard, but he is always a gentleman in the end (literally). 

The two of you return to your dressing room, the air still warm with the remnants of what just transpired. There’s a quiet intimacy in how he lingers, watching as you slip into something more comfortable, his hands occasionally brushing against you in small, affectionate gestures.  

You take a moment to clean up, smooth your hair, and touch up your makeup while he stands behind you, his presence steady and familiar. Every now and then, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, a silent reminder of just how deeply he adores you.  

Falling into your usual rhythm, the playful teasing and gentle touches return, the two of you wrapped in the sweet comfort of each other. As he helps you fasten a necklace, his fingers grazing your skin, he meets your gaze in the mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Ready, beautiful?"

With one last glance at yourselves, you take his hand, feeling nothing but warmth as you step out together, heading off to meet your loved ones for a late dinner—still lost in the afterglow of the night and of each other.  

As you settle into the car, the city lights flickering past the windows, he suddenly turns to you with a smirk, his tone light and teasing. “I do have a question: why are all the songs you write about me pertaining to  sex?” 

You roll your eyes, laughing as you shove his arm playfully. "Oh, shut up and drive." 

His chuckle fills the space between you, the perfect sound to end a perfect night.

[cuntyhunty22]

What a time to be alive

[ishestillapunk]

Crashing on the rocks

this is a mess of love, lust, and Joel Miller’s terrible timing. read the chapters in any order your heart (or hormones) desires. wanna follow a path? the masterlist has your back.

pairing: jackson!joel x f!reader

summary: María it's pregnant again, and Joel doesn't take it very well.

tags: established relationship (married), age gap (30s-60s), angst, pregnancy talk, arguing, joel is stubborn af, smut, grief (again yes ik), unprotected p-in-v, implied infertility, emotional damAGE, outdoors sex omg, crying joel (nooo), smut with feelings, where my horny girls at.

w/c: 2,7k

a/n: Hey! so your comments and reblogs help me a lot so I really really appreciate your support and the messages i've been receiving. just a quick note to show love. thanks a lot!! happy reading!

Good times never last. Not in this house, anyway.

It’s like an omen. At least, that’s what you call it. It comes with the spring rain, with his silence, which is, somehow, even quieter than usual. It grates on you. It itches differently, and you don’t even know why.

Since before bed. Since dinner at Tommy’s. Since Maria announced she was pregnant again. His face soured. He clung to the excuse of being too tired just so he could leave as fast as possible.

He didn’t even congratulate her. Tommy hated that. You know he did. But he still hugged Joel, like an apology.

For moving on. Like anyone would.

He didn’t go on patrol because of the rain. He doesn't take stormy nights anymore, not since you asked him not to. But the truth is, nothing clears his head more than a disaster outside to distract from the one inside. He barely spoke when you came down for breakfast. Barely looked at you when you brought up the leak in the hallway.

“Joel, if this is about—”

“It’s not about anything. I’m just not in the mood” Joel says as he stands from the chair, pushing it in and grabbing his mug with one hand to take it to the sink.

“No one’s in a bad mood over nothing, Joel.”

“I am.”

You watch him walk off to the living room and sink into the couch, draping an arm over his face with a deep sigh. After a moment, you follow. You don’t want to push him. You don’t want to invade. But the kind of love you feel when he’s like this, it burns. It has nowhere to go.

Who wouldn't care when someone they love is in a state like this?

“Quit lookin’ at me like that” he mumbles. He doesn’t need to see you to know. Arms crossed under your chest, fingers pinching the hem of your white nightgown, teeth nibbling the inside of your cheek, eyes soaked in worry.

“How should I look at you?” you whisper.

“Not with pity.”

Joel suddenly sits up. Those eyes, you hate those eyes. That’s the way he looks at people he wants gone. Not you. Not you.

“You’ve been lookin’ at me like that since last night. Since Maria said she was pregnant. Like…” He trails off.

You frown and step around the couch.

“Like what? I wasn’t lookin’ at you any kind of way.” Your hands settle on your hips. The rain outside has darkened the morning, casting a gray shadow over the living room. Joel stands.

“Like I’m some useless old fuck who can’t even give you a kid.”

Your eyes follow him. Hurting. They hurt for the thought that he could even think something like that. Useless. You stare at him for a long moment. You don’t dare speak, because if you do, the only thing that’ll come out is a flood of words soaked in tears.

But he takes your silence the wrong way.

“I know it eats at you. I know you lay there at night wonderin’ why the hell you ever agreed to be with me. I ask myself the same damn thing. Why I dragged you into this life. Why, knowin’ how fucked up I am, I had the nerve to be so goddamn selfish and bring you into this house where you don’t even get to dream.”

Joel bites down on the edge of his frustration the way you’ve learned to read. The tears don’t gather in his eyes, but they coat his voice, cracking it down the middle, and it wrecks you.

“Joel, I never said any of that.”

“But you wrote it.”

Silence.

“That was years ago. And you had no right to… to snoop.”

A dry laugh slips out of him. He turns his head to the side, arms crossed now, shaking his head.

“You thought shit about me too, back then. Stuff you don’t think no more. Or maybe you still do, and that’s fine. I ain’t perfect. But don’t you dare put words in my mouth. I never said you were useless.” You lift a finger, pointing at him. His eyes drop to your hand, then lock on yours.

“You thought it last night.”

And the way he says it. So damn sure. It guts you. How do you pull a thought like that out of this man’s head?

“Joel, I didn’t think anything except how you might be taking it. You got like this when Benji was born, too, and I understood it then, just like I do now.” Your eyebrows pull tight, your brain scrambling for words that might drag him out of this mess of stories he spins for himself.

“I know how it feels watching the world move on after what happened with S—”

“No.” Joel squeezes his eyes shut and turns his head sharply, swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry. But you know what I mean, baby.”

Silence.

Joel rubs his palms over his eyes. You hear him. Barely. A small sniff that rips your chest apart. His shoulders shake. He doesn’t want to look at you. Doesn’t want to show you.

“I dream of you like that, and it fucks me up” he whispers, eyes still averted. “Full. Walkin’ through the house. Carryin’ somethin’ that’s ours…” Joel looks up at the ceiling and swallows again. His eyes are shattered. You know what he’s remembering, even if he won’t say it.

A world he never imagined losing. A smile he wasn’t supposed to let go of. A night that still wakes him up. A “Daddy” he can’t even remember the sound of anymore.

His one and only babygirl.

Joel brushes past you suddenly. Heads out the back door into the rain. Dosnt care that he got no coat, no umbrella. He just wants to outrun the noise in his head. You watch him through the window, disappearing into the little woods inside the community.

You don’t even think. You go after him the same way he left. Heart in hand.

Still in your nightgown. Barefoot. Chest wide open. Because when it comes to Joel, you do everything with your heart in your hand.

You cross the yard in three steps, shove the gate open with your whole body, and the sharp sting of gravel cutting into your feet doesn’t stop you one damn bit. Your nightgown clings like skin. Your wet hair sticks to your shoulders and neck. The spring air is thick with cold, you’re probably gonna catch a chill. Doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

“Please, Joel. Don’t run from me.” When you finally find him, one hand resting against a tree trunk, the other over his eyes, you stop a few feet away.

And he sees you.

Soaked. Desperate. Looking for him.

“Joel, enough of this” you say, with what little voice you have left. “If you’re scared, that’s okay. I’m scared too. But don’t run when it feels like too much. Give it to me.” 

You open your arms, blinking heavy tears and raindrops from your lashes. “Give it to me. Whatever it is. I’ll take it.”

Joel moves toward you. Slow steps. Eyes all over you, his gaze feels like hands. Heavy. Rough.

He sees the fabric clinging tight to your body, shameless in the way it reveals you. How it hugs your belly. Traces the shape of your breasts, your nipples. The way it curls over your hips, your thighs. How the strap slips down your shoulder. How it draws your shape, the one that’s pulled sighs from him for years.

The shape he has wanted to fill. The one he has wanted and needed to leave something of himself inside.

For years now.

He approaches while his hands are already bridging the distance, settling over your shoulders. Caressing down to your hips.

“Why’d you do this to me?” He whispers with a rough edge. With melancholy.

“‘Cause you ran”

He shakes his head with a faint amused smile and presses his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling against yours.

“I mean this. Why do y’keep runnin’ after me after all I’ve done…” His stubble scratches against your cheek as he dips to kiss your neck, softly, arms wrapping around you.

“Because I love you. And I would never think you’re useless” Your hands come up to cup his jaw and make him look at you in the eye. “All I think of you is what I do day after day. Stayin’. Here, with you.”

“You feel obligated, baby, I know…” He whispers against your lips.

Your hand slaps softly against his cheek. He snorts, burying his face into your neck.

“You’re too much for me…” Joel rasps and you know he’s on the edge of crying again. “You deserve what you dream”

“I deserve it with you. And I’m happy because at least you tried”

Joel looks down at you. Your eyes, your lips. His whole face melts lightly into a bittersweet expression of love and nostalgia. Of the world he wants to give you, of the dreams in your eyes, of the future that is always unpredictable, of you being there, of trying every day to not lose you.

And you are asking for nothing.

Nothing else than an ounce of his presence.

He always feels like he could melt every time he sees you, and not in the horny way but in the way he feels like you disarm him with just your eyes. He feels bare, he feels helpless. You build him cathedrals out of moments and he just gave you this old house and a town barely standing.

And you, still ask for nothing.

Joel kisses you, leans and kisses you as if you were the oxygen he’s been needing since he walked out of the house. You give him your lips, your tongue, your meat and bones. You give him the love you keep, that its all his to take. Because with Joel, it’s like that. All or nothing.

Joel walks you back until your back brushes the tree behind you. The gasp you let against his mouth makes him growl softly against your mouth. Your gown is nearly a joke with how transparent it has become now. 

His hand curls around the back of your thighs and lifts you enough so you can wrap your legs around his waist. His heat, his weight presses against the slick seam between your thighs, that sweet nook he adores and yearns for. 

You’re both soaked. His jeans heavy with rain. Your gown clinging to skin. It doesn’t matter, you only feel him. His kisses are slick against your jaw and throat. Your toes curling with every slow grind of his hips against the curve of your cunt. Your favorite kind of pressure. Slow, devastating.

“Joel, you’re killing me, babe…” You whisper against his ear. Almost drunk.

His hand slips between your legs, yanking your soaked panties to the side. His thumb slides through your folds, and he lets out a low curse. 

“This what you think of me, huh…” A dark laugh rumbles in his chest, and your face burns. He's the only thing that gets you wetter than the goddamn rain.

He lifts his thumb to his mouth, sucking it clean while your fingers fumble with his belt. He doesn’t give a damn that you’re out in the woods, in the middle of a storm. Fuck anyone who might see. You’re soaked, rain and arousal, and he has no choice but to take it into his own hands.

Joel slap your hands away and leans kissing you again. Thumb still buried between your pussy lips, swirling over your clit in slow and firm circles.

“That’s it, sweet…” He whispers softly between harsh smooches against your mouth. Breaths clashing against the other, harsh and loud. He slides, finally, two thick fingers inside you and it makes you arch against him with a cry.

“I can’t take this anymore.” He wraps an arm around your waist, his other hand holds you by your thigh and carries you back to the house.

“Joel, the floor—”

“I’ll mop it with my damn tongue after I’m done with you, don’t worry” He drops you on the couch. Your soaked form dampens the cushions. His flannel drips, his jeans leaving dark imprints on the carpet once he kicks them off.

“C’mere” Joel grabs you by the hips and brings you to his lap. Hands kneading and pawing every inch of you. His mouth attaches to your breasts through the fabric of your gown. “You look like a dream, baby…” He whispers against your sternum while one hand slides down to ruck up your gown, over your ass.

“Take it off, Joel..” You whisper back, holding from the backrest behind him.

He finally slides the gown over your head. You lift your arms and the piece of wet fabric ends up in the floor with the rest of the clothes. He lifts his hips when you begin to pull at his waistband and the boxers are discarded too. 

You let go a choppy laugh when he wraps his arms around you and brings you down with him on the couch, laying together, wet and tangled in front of the hearth. His cock rests nestled against your cunt, his mouth attaches to yours while his hand traces the planes of your back, the other cradles the back of your head.

Joel feels you sliding your hand between you and sliding him to your slit. He stops kissing you, mouth agape against yours, waiting for that moment. He lets out a low moan with you when he slides inside. One hand goes to your hip, holding you against him, guiding you while he fucks you sideways, slowly.

The sweet brush of his bone against your clit. He keeps feeding it to you, inch by inch, until the tip kisses that aching spot inside. Your mouth falls open with a soft gasp. You push yourself up on one arm, lowering yourself fully onto his cock like you were made for it.

“That’s my woman… Yes..” Joel whispers, drunk in your feeling, one hand caressing up your torso. He tries to keep it together, you can see it. Eyes clenched shut, head tilted back, jaw tight. Those pretty, high-pitched moans he swallows down. You love them. You love how helpless he sounds.

“I want to hear you, Jo…” You whisper, hands settling on his thighs, behind you. He takes a long breath when he stares at the way you start rolling your hips, how you show him how you take him. A hard gulp. A sweaty forehead. His cock pulsing.

“I’m gonna..”

“Do it..”

He grit his teeth and throw his head back.

“No, look at me” You caress his jaw and bring his eyes back to you. Joel obeys and locks eyes with you. He looks as if he’s about to cry. Looking at you while he’s about to come makes him feel as if he’s levitating.

Maybe he will.

You feel him pulsing inside you. Hot, sticky, dripping out of you already, around himself. He gasps as you chase your own orgasm, using him, making him roll his eyes backwards, having to close his eyes and curl his fingers around your waist. Your walls gripping him make him sit up and gasp against your throat, coming again.

“Twice?” You breathe a soft laugh while combing your fingers through his still damp hair and Joel chuckles against your jaw.

“Yeah, maybe.” Joel wraps his arms around you, caresses your ass and back. 

The fire crackles. The rain keeps pouring. His kisses are timid across your shoulder even if he just rearranged your guts. 

Then, you suddenly sneeze and wrinkle your nose, blinking up at him with a jerk of your head.

“Oh, great” He chuckles and lifts a hand brushing your hair off your face. His eyes wander over you, slow and fond. “That’s what happens when you run out into the rain wearin’ nothin’ but a damn nightgown.”

“Then don’t run into the woods in the middle of the rain. You know I’ll follow”

He nods. Silent. Smooches your lips.

“I know.”

he just misses his babygirl 😔

[baronessvonglitter]

You've avoided going home for summer break until this year, and with Joel Miller taking notice of you, things might get interesting..

SERIES MASTERLIST | JOEL MASTERLIST

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

dividers by @cafekitsune 👑

[valevntine]

why is this doing irreparable damage to my brain why am i so

[iamasaddie]

"Left or right?"

[joelsbloodyhands]

Mine

Din Djarin x Reader, The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: Your employer is pissed when you come back from getting information about a bounty with a bruised hand mark around your neck.

A/N: I kinda just wrote this one because I had a vague idea and ran with it. I think everyone is going to learn very quickly in my writing that clearly jealous/overprotective Din is my fave version of him 🙈

Warnings: reader gets choked and not in the nice way (only talks about it), overprotective Din, Din is your employer but clearly wants to be more, death and m!rder (all in the name of love) 🤗, mentions of blood and bodily harm, mentions of slave traders, fluff with a little bit of spice✨, soft!Din but also a little bit reckless!Din 👀 smut references but not written too explicitly but still MINORS DNI, business associates to lovers arc? 😅 not set at any particular point during the series.

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader does not have a visible disability.

You’d been gone too long and Din was getting anxious.

This hadn’t been his original plan.

The contact for information regarding the bounty had unfortunately been highlighted as a previous foe of his. He’d busted them prior when their bounty puck had fell in his lap over a cycle ago.

Trust Karga to let the man redeem himself by providing intel on high-level bounties with the incentive of remaining out of the hands of the Rebellion that for some reason unbeknownst to Din, wanted his head on a stick.

Why had Din let you go and barter for the information again?

“He won’t suspect me to be a threat.”

Oh right, yeah. That’s what you said.

Except Din was probably worrying about the wrong thing because the biggest threat would be the ex-criminal you were meeting with at Mos Espa Cantina.

“Go say hi to Boba for me. Get the boy fed and I’ll be back soon.”

Din was losing his edge.

On what kriffin planet did he give in to such a request?

You were in danger and he knew it.

He knew it and he still sat in the markets with Grogu, twirling wupiupi coins in his fingers for the past half hour while his son slurped another bowl of pog soup.

Why?

Well, that was easy.

Since the past year you had been travelling with him, Din had grown to have affections for you.

To start he kept you at arms length.

Brief answers to your curious questions turned into nightly talks between your bunks. Subtle touches to guide you through busy and sometimes treacherous places turned into lingering holds in his grasp, fear of losing you to the crowds. He found himself watching you far longer than he ever had before and during times when he didn’t necessarily need to. The sound of you using the fresher while he tucked in his little green son had his heart pounding and a certain area of his armor feeling a little bit too uncomfortable.

He grew more and more protective the further you strayed without him.

He no longer wished for you to venture into dens alone to ask for information on his behalf but he couldn’t deny that you were good at it.

Better than him.

You were calm and collected.

You had a level head.

Something that he could very easily lose control over should Grogu and yourself be threatened by a contact. Though it was the one thing you had learned you could assert yourself over since Din’s change of heart.

You had a job that needed to be done and you were the best person for it.

So Din caved far quicker than he normally would with allowing you to go the cantinas and talk about bounties, pay and information. It sped up the process for Din to track them and also meant he didn’t have to deal with the unwanted chit chat that came with meeting up with Karga.

Something you enjoyed. Something that had Din’s palms itching whenever Karga took your hand to help you stand from the booth, Din’s clenched fist aching to wipe the smug look of his face when he turned back in his direction.

“I like her, Mando. She’s good at getting what she wants.”

He knew you were.

Din wasn’t sure if he was included on the list of things you wanted but you sure as hell were on his.

There was times he had a inkling.

Especially when he was feeding the kid and he caught you looking away when his eyes found you scraping away at your lunch.

Times when you would grab his hand without hesitation and pull him through midnight markets towards the sights of fireworks. Din’s heart warming at the wide smile plastered across your face, the powdery shades of red, blue and green lighting up in your eyes from the sky.

Damn, he was down bad and he had no idea what to do about it.

Technically, he was your employer.

Juggling Grogu and his job was a difficulty. Most of the time he was happy to venture out with Grogu in his carrier or pod but his bounties got, let’s say, brave in their efforts to deter him. Going so far as to aim shots towards the child. They learned his weakness and Din hated it.

So with much reluctance to start, he asked Peli if she would be interested in babysitting him for a price but of course she refused; even with the money on the table.

“Not a chance but I know just the person for the job.”

He had slid the money off the table and walked back to the ship without another word until she scrambled after him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Just hear me out, okay?” Din had sighed, turning back to her from the top of the ramp while she stood hands on her hips and a smile growing. “There’s this kid that needs a job. Call ‘em a distant relative, if you will. They’re desperate. Need money, board, food, water and they’ll make sure your little boy is taken good care of. I swear!”

“Have they taken care of children before?” Din asked inquisitively but also with a half mind to ignore Peli completely and close the ramp in response to her proposal.

“Yeah! Loads of times! They’re a professional!”

Din doubted that very much. He knew Peli’s tactics for selling him an offer and he couldn’t deny that she was good at it.

Fine, he’ll bite. Again.

“Call them.”

He just remembers Peli’s grin, your soft voice on the end of a comlink and then a speeder sounding just outside.

She had presented you to him like a rare gift and he was less than happy to receive you at the time but more than a few rotations later, you had thrown yourself in front of a bounty that had tried to commandeer his ship, their blaster aimed for Grogu in his bunk, taking a graze to the side before Din shot him dead.

You were willing to die to protect his son.

That was more than he could’ve ever asked for.

Later when Din was back at the Crest, you returned.

He had spent the past hours pacing up and down the ramp like a mad man.

Originally, he had planned to detour from the markets with Grogu over to the cantina but you had used your comlink to tell him you were already near the ship.

That was interesting because Din got back to the ship and you weren’t even here.

Which begs the question, why did you lie that you were already nearby?

Maybe he was being paranoid. His fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly, stressing about your whereabouts and the obvious reason as to why he was so stressed to begin with.

So when he’d heard your footsteps up the ramp, your voice calling for Grogu, you were both surprised to see the other staring back.

“Where have you been?” Din questioned gently but you sensed an underlining annoyance to his tone.

“I detoured, sorry,” you sheepishly smiled, holding up a bag of frog meat. “I saw a vendor selling this and I knew Grogu would be happy about it. Not to mention,” you brush past him, eyes focused solely on the sleeping child snuggling into his hammock on Din’s bunk, “it would be nice to see him not eat a whole frog for once.”

You laugh and it eases Din.

Of course he was just being paranoid.

“And the contact?” He says and you remain with your back to him, reaching your hand in carefully to tug the blanket over Grogu’s body. “He give us what we need?”

“He did,” you respond and Din satisfied, presses the button to bring up the ramp and close the hatch. The sound of it whirring so loud, in need of some oiling so much so that you had probably thought he missed your quiet words.

“What was that?” His helmet turns your way when the hatch closes with a loud creak.

“I said, somewhat.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t being paranoid after all.

Din feels his nerves wash over him, noticing how you’re not even turning around as you address him. He takes you in. You don’t seem discomforted, angry or emotional. You’re incredibly calm.

Though that was worrying.

Normally, you came back from having debriefs with the informants with a story to tell.

“It was quite scary actually. They had this wookie with them but then you’ll never believe this guy! Stood there, blaster in hand, immense glare in his face, goes and shoves a fist in his satchel, I’m ready to throw hands and I shit you not, Din…wookie pulls out a cookie and starts crunching away at it!”

“Have you ever met a Gungan, Din? I think they’re my favourite people I’ve ever met. I mean they were all like, yousa follow us now, okeyday? Seriously! Oh gooberfish! I love them!”

“What do you mean by somewhat?”

You sigh.

This wasn’t good.

“I’m sorry, Din. They gave us the last location. I think that’s the most important thing.”

“What about if they’re solo or run with a crew? We need to know what we’re walking into, otherwise we could get bombarded the moment we land.”

This wasn’t a simple bounty. This guy was one of the worst out there.

A slave trader.

It angered Din to even think about it.

“Something happened,” he doesn’t let you tip-toe around the subject. “What are you not telling me?”

You fall silent and that’s enough for him.

Something did happen and what’s worse, you don’t want to tell him.

He moves towards you and you turn on your heel, ready to protest. Din had only meant to just embrace your shoulder gently to ease you into a conversation he thought you needed to have but the slightest wince had him drawing back almost immediately.

With his steps halted in front of you, the air cold, the crest filled with silence, Din’s visor drops instinctively to your neck.

Was it getting cool? Sure, when it was getting late. Though right now, it was still early afternoon and you never wore a scarf in Mos Espa outside the settlement and in the dunes.

“Did he touch you?”

Din has to bite back the growl threatening to crackle through his modulator.

Your head drops, eyes on the floor and the look of regret on your features make Din pray to the Maker that he’ll kill the man just for the expression on your face.

Then you unravel the scarf and Din wastes no time.

His hand had pulled your collar back gently, his shoulders stiffening at the purpled marks there.

You grimaced before trying for a smile but he sees the way your eyes plead with his, “Before you ask, it looks worse than it feels. I’m fine, Din. Let’s just go.”

He remembers you calling his name after that.

Only once because you knew as you watched him brush past you, grabbing two vibroblades from his armoury and charging down the steps towards the town, that there was nothing you could say to stop him.

And you were right because less than five minutes later, Din’s blades were impaled on the informants hands, stapling him indefinitely to the table at the cantina while onlookers ran completely, hid or dropped their heads from his view.

Then his gloved hands were on his throat, squeezing the life out of him.

An eye for an eye.

You hadn’t explained why the man had strangled you and it was pointless anyway.

He had no right to touch you.

To hell with Karga.

He’d lose an informant but that informant chose to fuck with what was his and that was worth more than any information.

When Din felt the life leave him, he dropped a number of credits to the table, looked up at the barman and walked away. His last words being, “you can keep those,” shrugging his shoulder towards the blades on the way out.

Now back at the ship, you sit rigidly on the bunk while Din gently swipes a lotion of bacta over your wound with a cotton wipe.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Your eyes flicker to his visor and you know he’s evading your gaze.

You sigh and for a moment, he think you’re not going to reply until your hands gently take his, stopping him from tending to you.

He lifts his visor then, meeting your concerned eyes, your fingers intertwined with his on your lap.

“I can handle myself. You know that, right?”

Oh. So that’s what this was?

You were worried he thought you incompetent to end up in this circumstance?

Of course you would think that. He’s your employer. You only want to deliver good work for him.

That’s not all this is anymore though and Din can’t pretend and let you go on feeling like a failure especially with the tears dancing on your waterlines.

“You are very capable, mesh’la but-“ Din sighs.

How can he even begin to explain to you that he’s more angry at himself for not protecting you like he’s supposed to?

Kriff, you’re not even a bounty hunter. Trained to use a blaster as a novice, he noticed how you flinched whenever you’ve had to pull the trigger on his behalf. You’re at your calmest when you’re rocking the small boy before bed, singing lullabies to him in a hushed tone probably so Din couldn’t hear. You had no idea that he stood just above the ladder to the cockpit and listened.

You were ethereal and he couldn’t get enough of you.

That’s why it made his hands shake to even think that anyone would harm you.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts, he misses the way your eyes widen at the term of endearment he let slip and the quick gesture as you shake yourself from how affected you are by it.

“I just…” you break through his racing thoughts, his eyes latching onto your dipped chin, eyes shadowed in the corner of the docking port, just outside his bunk. You look solemn but rather than feel dread, Din’s heart stills when he notices the flush of pink across your features.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were nervous.

“I just want to be able to do more for you.”

The words play on a loop, almost like they’re colliding against the inside of Din’s helmet, repeatedly soaring through his ears again and again.

“I want to be more useful for you. Ya know?”

Useful? You think you’re not already useful?

“Sometimes I just feel like I have more to offer. I know you brought me in to be a babysitter but I can be more than that. For you.”

Was the carbonite freezing system failing or was it getting hotter in the crest?

Din felt like he needed to tug the shroud off from around his neck. The air was suffocating.

“Please say something?” Your small voice says quietly.

“You are more to me than you will ever understand, cya’rika.”

Your eyes meet his then.

Well, his visor at least and Din curses his creed for having him hide his face at a time when he wants- no needs you to see how much he means what he says.

You’re silent but the increasing rouge of your cheeks is enough to see that you understand him and that perhaps there was some truth in his suspicions.

You felt for him just as much as he felt for you.

“Din…”

And just like that, his eyes roll back momentarily hearing his name leave your tongue like a pleading prayer.

He couldn’t pretend like you weren’t affecting him too.

He needed you to know.

“Get in the bunk, ner kar’ta.”

Your body stills a moment in surprise and you don’t move.

Maybe he misjudged or maybe he’s being too forward but then you stand and without taking your eyes away from him, you seat yourself on the side of his bunk.

Waiting for him.

Waiting for further instruction just like you’ve been doing ever since you walked onto his ship.

One thing he realised he misjudged.

All those times you obeyed every command, it was never out of the need for his money.

You never questioned him, never refused an order but with Din and the matter of Grogu’s safety, it was never a request and that’s all it was to start.

It was just a matter of his sons safety until he realised he loved you too.

Din stands and steps in front of you, you look up at him as he tugs the shroud from around his neck loose.

He notices how your eyes drop to his waist, evading the reveal of his tanned skin while you’re positioned below him. He wraps the material a couple of times before placing the fabric over your eyes.

You don’t move.

You don’t flinch.

You just allow him to remove one of your senses, leaving nothing but darkness over your sight. His heart aches at the trust you have in him, allowing him to render you vulnerable before him.

He ties it behind your head, making sure it’s not too tight as to hurt you.

He’s not the same type of man as the monster from earlier today.

His fingers itch at the memory and he shrugs his gloves off, setting his bare fingers against the cold metal of his helmet.

You await patiently and he watches as you jerk your head slightly at the familiar sound of his helmet releasing.

The sound you’ve only ever heard from a nearby room, hiding away from him when you brought him supper.

You await patiently while Din removes each piece of armor, setting it aside.

Then there’s just silence.

Until you hear his knees hit the ground in front of you and a warm breath hits your neck, a shudder running up your spine.

“Is it okay if I show you something?”

His whispers hit your ear drum in the most delightful way.

You nod dreamily.

Then you feel rough, warm lips graze your neck.

If heaven was travelling at light-speed through space, it was right here and now with Din’s lips travelling along your jawline, mapping out the path to seal against your lips. He tugs gently, coaxing you out of the shy shell you had created when you realised the butterflies he made you feel when you first met had more to do with how attracted you were to him than to how intimidating most people found him.

Every step he took on each planet you travelled, Din carried a powerful aura that most people cowered away from but it only drew you to him more.

You knew Din was strong.

You knew not many could beat him in a fight, yourself included but that was the whole point.

Din would never abuse his strength over you.

Ever.

Though, you wish he would, in special circumstances.

Like right now.

“How do you feel, cya’re?” Din inquires breathlessly, lips pressing soft kisses down your throat while you bite back the urge to be vocal.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you say uneasily, your hands gripping the bunk below you.

Din’s chuckle hits your ear, reverberating against your ear drum exquistively.

“Din?” He hears your voice rattle with every nestle of his lips stroking over your skin.

“Yes, mesh’la?” He raises his head, lips brushing the underside of your jaw, watching your lips turn up into a small smirk. Though you couldn’t see his expression returning yours, his adoring smile awaited your next words patiently.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

You feel a thumb smooth over your bottom lip.

“He deserved it,” you shake your head slightly, fighting away an amused smile on your lips that he quickly wipes away, replacing with an expression of longing when his lips meet your ear.

“You’re mine.”

[myownwholewildworld]

gif by @\pedrospascaled

“for emergencies only” — an oldman!joel miller drabble

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: oldman!jackson!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel has a lil' accident, but you know exactly how to help. or joel cums in his boxers a bit too early and you feed him a blue pill for endurance. a/n: uhm... yeah, hi? i promise you this fic wrote itself, i almost had nothing to do with it. i am so fucking feral over this man, can't flush him out of my system. lord have mercy... 🙇‍♀️ tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. pwp. filthy smut. joel cums in his boxers like the old man he is. mortified!joel but you make him feel good i promise <3 use of viagra. kneading the bulge, kissing the bulge, worshipping the bulge. pussy eating. face/nose riding. squirting. fingering. your slick is his hair gel (scent marking? idk). blowjob. you go cowgirl on him because the poor man can't do extraneous exercise, protect his bones. unprotected piv. creampie. age gap, no age gap, your choice. petnames. no description of reader other than afab. w/c: ~4.2k

Joel let go of a big sigh, knees cracking as he sat down on the couch. Even taking a shower was damn exhausting at his age—he preferred it when you scrubbed his back in the bath, massaged his biceps and forearms, gently squeezed his dick while the movement created rippling waves in the water.

He’d only managed to comb through his dry, silvery curls, to throw a worn shirt and some loose boxers on, before he needed to take a break. He was getting too old to go on long, extenuating patrols. Perhaps Joel should take up Tommy’s offer and solely focus on managing the construction in Jackson. He’d have more time with you that way too.

His mind was drifting away, thinking about all the things he would do to you in his free time, when his most delicious desire materialised in front of him. His precious little thing—you.

“Why are you so lonely over here, handsome?” you teased, lips curling into a sinful smile.

You lost no time, sitting beside him, snuggling up to his side. Joel’s arm draped around your shoulders instinctively, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on your collarbone.

“I dunno, someone didn’t want to join me in the shower…” he pouted slightly, a laugh tearing up your throat as you poked his ribs with one finger.

“I told you to wait for me, but you’re a grumpy old man who has no patience,” you reproached jokingly.

His eyes rolled back in exasperation, but you were right. He’d just wanted to hop in the shower as soon as he got home, ready to dust off the fatigue of the day.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, shrugging.

His hand slowly moved away from your collarbone up to your neck. Carefully, his fingers dug around your throat, just enough for you to look up at him and gape for air—the sweet pressure on your trachea making you gasp like a little fish out of the water.

“Give your old man a kiss, will ya?” he husked, bowing down his head.

You reached up to him, mouth agape, almost touching his lips. You froze there, your sight simmering with need, awaiting his permission… and when his eyes flicked with lust, you closed the distance and pressed your lips on his.

The kiss quickly became sloppy, your spit coating the stubble around his mouth. Muted, needy moans bubbled up your windpipe—an irresistible call of nature, silently begging him to give you what you wanted, what you needed.

How could he resist you? Joel simply couldn’t, especially when your hand landed on his knee and the making out session came to an end, the tip of your nose tracing his jawline before you pressed a kiss to his beating jugular and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Your palm squeezed the back of his hairy knee, slowly sliding it up his thigh whilst he manspread on the couch. His brown eyes tracked your every move, his legs’ muscles tensing as you playfully approached his groin. A pull in his soft tummy made him flinch when you reached the dip between his crotch and thigh, his cock hardening at the seductive tease.

A throaty moan rumbled through his chest when you tightly gripped the flesh of his inner thigh, thumb lazily stroking the outline of his shaft over the boxers.

“You’re a bit starved for touch today, aren’tcha?” you nudged him, lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

His cock twitched.

“And whose fault is that?” he snapped back, nerves on edge.

You simply giggled, shaking your head as your hand finally cupped his growing bulge. Gently kneaded him, massaging his aching balls over the fabric. Joel could feel the warmth of your touch seeping through the boxers, compelling him to grow bigger, harder, thicker.

Your palm rubbed against the covered length of him, then dropped to his sacks again—and, irremediably, his hips bucked up, bare heels dug in the wooden floor. He thoroughly enjoyed it when you cupped his balls like that—lovingly, languidly, exquisitely, taking the weight off him so he could find some bliss.

Seeing you so locked in on his pleasure, your tongue darting out to wet your lips… It just added to your appeal, another reason to love you. Because he did—fuck, yes he did, with all his fucking heart.

Suddenly, you squeezed his balls a bit too harsh, holding your grip as if your life depended on him, kissing his jawline. The unexpected squash on his testicles forced a moan out of him—and something else.

A firing pulse took a hold of him, surging down from his spine directly into his balls, and inevitably his cock throbbed with releasing strength. Joel couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to. He first felt the sticky warmth soaking his boxers, and his eyes quickly shot down to his lap.

There was a wet, growing spot on his underwear. He’d fucking cummed in his boxers like an inexperienced teenager—or the old man he was, despite how adamant he was to deny it—and he wasn’t even fully hard yet.

Embarrassed wouldn’t even start to cover it. Joel was fucking mortified.

His mouth ran dry, heartrate throbbing in his eardrums like a shameful cacophony. This had never occurred before—cumming way too early in his loose boxers, the proof right there for you to see, staining the grey fabric. It happened so fast, so intensely, Joel hadn’t had the time to rein in his own orgasm.

His face flushed with abasement; the tips of his ears hot as embers. Unwrapping his arm from around your shoulders, Joel leaned back, his head slacking back and resting on top of the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his free hand tight in a fist, before a trembling sigh escaped his lips.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to look at you.

“Oh, it’s okay, baby,” you replied reassuringly, your tone too sweet for the circumstances you both were in. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, forcing his hand out of his face. “This just proves how much you love me, so much you can’t even resist me. It’s hot.”

Joel finally had the courage to look you in the eye, a cocked brow showing his disbelief.

“Hot? You think it’s hot I just came in my boxers with a lil’ tugging?” he repeated out loud, unable to believe what you just had said. “I’m not even hard, sweetheart. It’s… humiliating.”

You nodded to his question, your top teeth sinking in your plump bottom lip. Your eyes locked in on his as your hand travelled down his frame, your thumb stroking the obvious wet spot in his underwear.

“Mhm,” you cooed with a playful grin. “Very hot, not humiliating. And I can fix that. Fix him so we can have a good cuddle.”

“I don’t think I can…” you silenced him with a kiss before you got up from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen without another word.

A minute later you were back, towering above him with a sinful little smirk, one hand hidden behind your back.

“Open your mouth,” you requested.

“Huh?”

“Just open it for me, please?” you dragged the last word, blinking rather exaggeratedly.

Joel huffed his disagreement, but ended up obeying. His tongue slid out, patiently waiting for whatever you had in mind. With a flourish, you opened your fist to reveal a blue pill. His eyes lighted up in understanding—he thought he had run out of viagra.

“I always keep a secret stock,” you confessed, reading his mind. “For emergencies only.”

Slowly, you set the pill down on his tongue, your thumb caressing the tip of his wet muscle before you retreated to let him close his mouth. Before Joel could swallow, you bowed down to kiss him, your tongue pushing the pill down his throat with a little needy moan.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, the pill secure in his belly now. It was just a matter of time, but meanwhile…

“Let me make it up to you, sweetheart,” he growled, the taste of your sweet cunt haunting him. “You deserve to be eaten out—so thoughtful of your old man. It’s what you enjoy most, right? Having your swollen pussy drooling all over my face, leaking into my mouth…”

His words had an immediate effect on you. Joel knew exactly how to get you off—not that you needed any more encouragement. Your clit was already palpitating, your hole gushing for his attention. The promise of a good pussy eating was everything you’d hoped for after feeding him that viagra pill.

You straightened your back, ready to get started, and Joel slithered off the couch until he was sat on the floor, his achy back leaned against the bottom part of the sofa. He sat back a little, his head resting on the edge of the couch while your pants and underwear dropped to the floor.

“Someone’s eager,” he taunted when you kicked off your clothing to one side.

“Oh, that’s an understatement,” you exhaled sharply.

Joel curled one long, thick finger at you to invite you to sit on his face, and that was exactly what you did.

You knelt on the sofa, his head right between your thighs, and you anchored your hands to the back of the furniture. His warm breath fanned your pussy, a shiver running up your spine. His broad, calloused hands ran up the back of your legs, coaxing your ass cheeks apart so your slit would crack open for him.

“My sweet girl… You’re already so wet,” he tutted at you, pecking your perineum, the tip of his aquiline nose tickling your entrance. “You really like your old man, don’tcha?”

You were about to answer when Joel lapped your entire seam in one smooth motion before his mouth latched onto your pulsing clit. You sobbed audibly, head lolled back, fingers curling tightly around the cushion of the backrest. Only managing a hushed “mhm,” Joel suckled on your throbbing nub again, pulling the hood back with his tongue.

A myriad of stars danced behind your eyelids when Joel gently nibbled at your bud, his middle finger sliding in your tight hole to rub that precise spot inside your cunt. He ate you out diligently—sucked, licked, bit, flicked your clit… rinse and repeat. Your pussy fluttered around his finger, your moans louder than they should have been considering the thin walls of the house. Sensing your desperation, Joel’s finger slipped out with a pop, to quickly fill your drooling entrance with his tongue.

It was too much—deliciously so. When you thought you’d had the best head ever, Joel always outdid himself. His wet muscle thrusted in and your pussy reciprocated with stuttering squeezes on his tongue. He didn’t falter, not even for a breather—as if he was trying to pull something out of your cunt.

“Jo-Joel…” you mewled, half whimper, half prayer.

You were so drenched, you could feel a flood forming in your womb—a heap of your arousal waiting to drip into his mouth. A tight coil low in your belly with a strangling force, so intense your shut eyes were tearing up, the drops of your silent cries sliding off your temples. Joel didn’t leave a spot unattended, worshipping your puffy pussy lips, your gushing hole, your thudding clit with his tongue and teeth.

Unable to rein in your own lust anymore, you dropped one hand and fisted his hair, forcing him to stay put, still between your trembling thighs. Your body was asking to take control, to let go of the tethers of decency—not that you had much left anyway.

“Wanna ride my face, hm?” Joel muttered with a shaky laugh.

“Mhmmm,” you moaned, shaking your head yes, your bottom lip twitching.

“Go on, baby, use me,” and then he rolled your bundle of nerves between his teeth.

That was the last straw—his words, your undoing. So you did exactly that. Still anchoring his head to the couch, you rocked your hips on his face, just once. His nose traced the entirety of your slit, catching on your clit, and you whined. A second later you were completely sat on his face, almost smothering him, while you rode not only his face, but specifically his nose.

Looking down, you saw his forehead reappear when your hips moved back. Every time you glided over him, the coil tightened and the flood dropped further down in your uterus. Stilling, you circled your waist on his mouth, and then resumed the riding.

It happened too quickly. Suddenly, the dam in your pussy just gave way, and you squirted all over his face while the most wanton moan tore up your throat, your vocal chords feeling raw from so much screaming. The biggest wave—no, tsunami—of your life washed over you, your thighs quivering like crazy while you locked them shut around his head.

Joel eagerly drank everything you offered him, groaning below you like a thirsty man who had not tasted water in days. For a long minute you couldn’t control the spasms of your cunt, dripping onto his nose, mouth and chin, your slick running down his neck and wetting the neck of his shirt.

Heaving, all your muscles finally relaxed, and you dropped to one side to release Joel from the imprisonment of your thighs. A side glance at Joel told you that he was licking off your juices from anywhere his tongue could reach, and that vision made you whimper again.

“I… Uh…” you mumbled, incapable of finding the words to describe what had just happened. “That was… the best head you’ve ever given me, you handsome old man.”

“You mean the best head you’ve ever had, full stop. Right?” he joked while he planted his hands on the edge of the couch to push himself up and sit besides you, his knees loudly cracking.

You laughed, nodding vehemently as you curled up to his side. His face was still wet from your cum, so you swept off some of it for him, kissing it away. The curls freely hanging over his forehead were damp with your slick too, and just that sight made your clit throb again. Raking your fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair, you combed it back with the product of your arousal.

“You don’t need hair gel if you’ve got me,” you said with a smile, and Joel tsked before letting go of a hearty chuckle.

“My personal hairdresser,” Joel quipped.

His laugh died in his mouth when your taunting hand flew to his bulge again. This time, he was extremely hard. Balls loaded and heavy, cock drumming.

“How’s my toy doing? Ready?” It was a rhetoric question, you could feel how ready he was.

“All… yours,” his words hitched, eyes darkening with a burning desire.

Without wasting another second, you knelt before him on the floor, his thighs spread open to house your frame. You couldn’t resist to lean forward and kiss the wet spot on his underwear, stealing a quick taste. Licking off the stain, you gazed up at him.

Joel was watching your every move with predatory attention, his tight fists resting to either side of him. Trying to convey calmness, but you could feel the eagerness simmering under the surface.

You buried your face in his bulge again, rubbing him over the fabric with your mouth, lips and cheeks. Kneaded him with worshipping heed, pulling the textile between your teeth, drunk with the crispy, sticky sound the wet boxers made when they unglued from his damp cock. Feeling his heartbeat, you inhaled keenly—his scent swarming your senses.

You could spend hours like this, with your face tucked away in his groin, feeling the length of him hardening against your cheek. But you were anxious to shove him down your throat.

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his old man’s loose boxers, and Joel lifted his hips off the pillows just enough for you to pull them down his legs, tangled around his ankles. His dick sprung free, swaying in front of you like a tasty lollypop. Cockhead flushed and painfully red, the vein on his underside visibly pulsing, his heavy, full balls tightened up into the base of his dick. And then the cum he’d been so embarrassed about, topping his mushroom head and sliding off his shaft.

It really was a beautiful sight. You pushed his girthy length against his soft tummy and lapped at his balls first, to then find your way up his shaft until your lips sealed shut around his angry cockhead, cleaning off all his nutty spent.

Joel groaned above you, shifting his position ever so slightly, and was gentle enough to caress your cheek with his thumb before he gave you a soft smack.

“Careful not to choke, sweetheart. Take it easy,” he growled, words dying off when you pushed him down your mouth, the hoarse curls at the base tingling your nose. “Easy does it.”

With your mouth full, you gave free rein to your instincts. Took him out completely, a bridge of saliva linking your lips to the tip of his cock, and then shoved him down your throat again. You gagged and whimpered at the same time, precum and spit overflowing from the corners of your mouth. How the end of him hit your uvula, breaching past it… it was the most elated you had ever felt.

Your pace quickly picked up, and soon enough you were bobbing your head on his lap to the point that tomorrow you’d have a stiff neck. But it would be completely worth it. Sucking him off, your tongue swirled around his leaky cockhead to then nip at it. Closing your mouth, you slid his tip over your clenched teeth and lips, making a mess of your face.

“Eaaaasy… Fuck, stop,” Joel tugged at your hair.

You had been so lost in the moment, you looked up at him bewildered. You didn’t want to stop, you could never have enough of him. But realisation quickly hit. His balls were twitching against your chin, a sign that Joel was about to lose it.

“I could have my dick in your mouth all day and night, sweetheart, but I need your pussy now,” he husked, half plea, half threat.

Joel relaxed against the couch when you got up to your feet and straddled him, your knees sunk in the pillows to either side of his legs. Reaching behind you, you grabbed at his throbbing cock, gliding it over your entire slit until it hitched in your entrance.

Biting your lip down to stop a slutty moan from coming out, you locked eyes with him. Watching his façade tumble down every time you descended on his lap was one of the most beautiful sights. So slowly you impaled yourself, taking in how Joel’s face loosened up, his hands firm on your hips—how the crows’ feet kissing the corners of his chocolate eyes would smooth out, how his cheeks would flush, how his nose would do a cute little scrunch, or how his lips would part, letting out a heavy sigh.

Joel tried to fuck up into you when you lifted your hips and you tutted at him, pinning him down so he wouldn’t move.

“Nuh-uh. I’m doing all the work tonight, baby. You just lean back and relax, let me fuck you,” you warned him, an edge to your tone advising him to refrain from complaining.

He’d been on patrol out all day—you knew how tired he was, how his old man’s bones would crack with the gentlest of moves.

“But—”

“No, no buts. If you stay still and behave, I’ll let you come inside. Be good for me, please,” you cooed, your mouth moving against his with every suggestive word.

Joel finally grunted in agreement, and the smile on your face couldn’t be wider—even your cheeks hurt. Despite how badly you wanted to say “good boy,” you didn’t press your luck. Joel was quite dominant, but you enjoyed these subtle shifts in your relationship when he was very tired. So tired you could boss him around with no reprimands.

Once he had settled down, you began riding him, his reassuring hands kneading your hips for encouragement. At first it was slow-paced, his cock lazily swallowed by your labia only half-way through. With every pump, you let him slide a little bit deeper, sweet desperation building up behind his adoring eyes.

And after a few minutes, you were bouncing up and down on his throbbing shaft with heavy, quick dives. You laced your hands behind his neck for support, your forehead resting on his, your sweats mixing. Every time he exhaled, you inhaled his needy groans, high with the passion burning between you two.

His cock filled you up to the brim, especially when he was fully seated in your crying cunt. His tip would kiss your cervix, sending firing signals up your spine, numbing your mind. He was so girthy, your inner walls parted like the Red Sea to greet him, to house him. Every time he pulsed inside, your pussy squeezed him hard—as if they were talking to each other. Joel was the perfect fit to you, in every fucking sense.

His cockhead dragged along your anterior wall, putting pressure on the exact spot that always had you gushing. You were so close to nirvana, you could almost touch the sky with your fingertips. Understanding how close you were—probably because your pussy was uncontrollably fluttering around him—Joel took it upon himself to tip you over the cliff of your pleasure. One of his hands flew to your clit, pressing tight circles on your nub as you, quite literally, jumped on him like a demon possessed—and your whole brain short-circuited right there and then.

“Come for you old man, sweetheart. Squirt all over my cock, drench my lap. Wanna feel her sing around me, milk me fucking dry until my balls are completely empty,” Joel husked against your lips, his thumb quicker on your clit now, pushing back the hood to expose your bundle of nerves to his incessant touch even more. “Can you do that for me, hm?”

You did exactly that the moment Joel stopped petting your clit and, instead, he gently tapped at it with four fingers, the squelching sound driving you crazy. The clapping of skin on skin driving you wild. You finally came, screaming at the top of your lungs, while your hips stuttered above him. Incapable of maintaining any pace now, you sat on his lap—his thudding cock buried down to the hilt in your quivering pussy, the best orgasm of your life hitting you at once.

Your entire body was quaking, your pussy flitting arrhythmically as the last squirts left your insides. Joel was throbbing inside you, grown to a point you thought he might explode. And with the last bit of energy, you clamped down on him as strongly as you could, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart,” Joel moaned loudly, head tilting back against the couch.

He pulsed one last time, and then finally filled you up. His cum flooded your pussy with long, thick ropes—so much that it was soon gushing out, mixed with your own arousal. It was warm and comforting, knowing that his seed was safe in your cunt. You squeezed once more to completely drain his balls, and he gifted you with some more drops.

You hummed in approval, so satisfied you almost felt sleepy. Joel smacked your right buttock and then hugged you around the waist, feeling your weight on him like a blanket. Neither of you moved, his cock still snug inside your pussy, your breathings loud and heavy.

“We still have a couple of hours before they serve dinner in the community hall. Can’t go anywhere in this… state,” Joel snickered, kissing your cheek.

“Gonna have to take care of this for you, ain’t I?” you whispered, batting your eyelashes at him before you grinded your hips on his lap. Your clit twitched in response, overstimulated. “I need a minute though, I feel like my whole nervous system is on fire right now.”

“Take as long as you need, sweetheart. I could be here all day right until the last minute,” he muttered, his hands gliding over the sweaty skin on your back.

“You’ll need to at least take a shower before we leave. I made a mess of your hair,” you laughed, nudging the vein on his neck with the tip of your nose.

“No, I like this hair gel better. I ain’t washing my hair.”

Your eyes shot up to him. The mere idea of him leaving the house with your slick dampening his hair, him being in public bathed in your pussy scent… while talking to others, fully claiming him as yours… Right then, you brain chemistry was changed forever.

Your clit throbbed, and you purposefully clutched around his still hard shaft.

“I’m ready again.”