Amelia // I like many things and Pedro Pascal // 18++ blog, MDNI!!! Interact with cautionđ«¶đ«¶
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
She really is Joel's daughter and this is one feral family


2K notes
·
View notes
Text
LOVEEEEED THIS

Joel Miller meeting your parents
this is just a stupid little thing from seeing this gif of him in this post ok thank you and goodnight. Been having writers block so if an idea can get this far on docs Iâm posting it
|| fluff, little bit nsfw, daddy kink, old man joel, peepaw joel meets your parents, reader's dad is kind of a hard ass, I suck at flirty banter tbh, cracking up at some of the shit I put in here, enjoy ||
âBaby, Iâm seriousââ Joel said, but his hands betrayed him, gripping at your hips like he couldnât help himself as you climbed into his lap. Your knees framed his thick thighs, still clad in worn denim, while his green plaid shirt had come untucked and bunched around his waist. A sliver of soft, tanned stomach peeked out as he leaned back against the bed frame.
âIâm serious too,â you murmured, voice thick with want as you pressed your mouth to his neck. Your fingers wove through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. âNeed you, Joel. Been thinking about this all day.â
âWeâre gonna be late if you keep this up,â he rasped, even as his head tipped back to give you more of his throat, groaning low when your teeth grazed the scruff along his jaw.
âDonât care,â you breathed, lips brushing the shell of his ear. âTheyâll be fine.â
You hiked your skirt higher, rocking down against him, already expecting to feel that familiar ache of him beneath youâbut instead, your hips stilled at the softness of his lap. You blinked, confused, pulling back just enough to search his face. But Joel wouldnât meet your eyes. His gaze darted everywhere else, over your shoulder, to the wall behind you, the damn nightstandâanywhere but you.
ââŠJoel?â
He still wouldnât look at you. You moved your hands to his chest, flattening them against the flannel, feeling the heavy thudding of his heart beneath your fingers.
âYou okay?â you asked, softer now, studying him. He looked nice tonight with his hair slicked back, beard freshly trimmed, and his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the veins in his forearms.
You cocked your head, more curious than concerned now as you really looked at him. âAre youâŠâ You reached up, cupping his jaw, gently turning his face until his eyes finally met yours. âJoel Miller, are you nervous?â
He let out a long breath, his voice low and a little rough. âCourse Iâm nervous, baby.â
âWhy?â you asked, easing back in his lap. You could still feel the warmth of his hands on your hips, thumbs sweeping slow, steady circles. It was more soothing for him than you now, grounding himself in the feeling of you.
âAny manâd be nervous meetinâ his girlâs parents for the first time,â he muttered, eyes flicking away again. Then, quieter, âEven if they werenât his own damn ageâŠâ
You smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his lipsâgentle, unhurried. He let you, kissing you back with a quiet sigh, the kind that said he was trying not to get pulled under. You hovered close, noses brushing, before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes again.
âTheyâre gonna love you,â you whispered.
Joel gave a dry huff, eyes flicking away. âTheyâre gonna think Iâm a damn pervert.â
âYou are a pervert.â
His gaze snapped back to yours, narrowing just a bit, the muscles in his jaw tightening. You didnât miss the way his brows dipped or how his eyes darkened, heat stirring just beneath the surface.
You bit back a grin, fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt. âItâs one of my favorite things about you.â
He rolled his eyes, still glaring up at you, and you let your shoulders drop, giving in. âOkay, so youâre older than me, who cares? Youâre also respectful. And kind. Youâre a good man. You even built my cat a window catio.â
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, though he still wouldnât look at you.
âAnd you didnât have to say yes to any of this,â you added, quieter now. âBut you did.â
He let out a breath, one hand tightening just slightly at your waist.
You leaned in, your nose brushing his. âAnd if I thought for one second they wouldnât like you, I wouldnât be dragging you into this.â
Finally, his eyes flicked to yours, unsure but searching.
You gave him a small smile. âYouâve got nothing to prove. Just⊠be yourself. Maybe with slightly less scowling.â
His lips twitched into even more of a smile then, and you kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering there a moment. âBut if it helpsâŠâ you murmured, lips grazing his jaw now, âI can think of something to get your mind off it for a minute.â
Joel let out a slow breath, one heâd been holding in the entirety of your reassurances, his head falling back against your pillows again.
You smiled against his throat, lips curved with mischief. âI mean⊠if you really want me to stopâŠâ you murmured, pressing your mouth to the spot just under his jaw. âI could get off your lap.â
Your hips shifted like you might, and his grip on you instantly tightened.
âBut thenâŠâ you went on, voice all innocent and sinful at once, âwhat should I do about all this?â
You reached down, took his hand in yours, and guided it between your thighs, right over your panties, where the heat of you was unmistakable. His palm pressed flush against the soaked fabric, and you felt his breath catch sharp in his chest.
He hummed low in his throat, something dark and approving, and as your fingers slipped away, his own pressed harder. His touch was firm, possessive, like heâd been dying to do it but holding back until now.
âThisâs all for me?â he finally muttered, voice rough as gravel. âJust from sittinâ in daddyâs lap, huh?â
You whimpered, rocking into his hand, desperate for more friction as you nodded. He gave it to you, slow circles with his fingers that had your breath stuttering, your thighs trembling around his. Even with the fabric between you, you could feel his rough calloused pads of his fingers perfectly against the heat of you.
âJoel,â you whined, barely even meaning to say it.
With a grunt, he shifted, and suddenly your back hit the mattress with a soft thud. He was over you in a flash, his body heavy and hot as he settled between your legs, looking at you like he was starving.
âYou got me all worked up now,â he muttered, voice thick and low as his hands dragged your skirt higher, exposing more of your thighs. âCanât let you walk out that door like this.â
He dipped his head to your neck, lips brushing over your pulse point before suckling gently. The scrape of his beard followed, rough and hot, as he worked his way lower, mouthing at the curve of your collarbone. Then down further, pushing your shirt up as he went, lifting it just enough to mouth at the soft skin of your chest.
âLet me take care of you,â he rasped, dragging his tongue over the top of your breast, nipping at it like he couldnât help himself. âLet me take care of this little problem, huh, baby?â
You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers tangling in his hair. âKnew Iâd get your mind off it, old man.â
His hands were everywhere nowâpalming your thighs, gripping your hips, pushing your panties aside just enough to slide his fingers back where they belonged in your wet, glistening entrance. His mouth returned to your skin, kissing and suckling until your back arched and your breath hitched in your throat.
Joel finally lifted his head, eyes dark and hungry as he hovered over you.
âYou gonna be the one tellinâ your parents why weâre late?â he quirked his eyebrow with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You smirked, hands sliding up his shoulders and onto his neck, tugging at the nape of his hair, âIâll say I had to help you calm your nerves. Blow off some steam. Pretty sure Iâm doing everyone a favor.â
Joel huffed a low laugh, shaking his head as he looked down at you. âThat so?â he murmured, his smile pulling a little wider. âYouâre real proud of yourself, huh?â
You grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. âYouâre welcome.â
He chuckled again, the sound low and warm in his chest. But then something shifted, his gaze lingering a little longer, smile easing into something softer. His eyes flicked around your face like he was locking it into his memory. The mischief faded, replaced by something deeper, something heavier.
When he kissed you, it wasnât playful anymore. It was deep and unhurried, messy and slow, full of everything that had led up to this night, where you were finally taking this next step, where things became even more real. One hand braced beside your head, the other deep inside you between your trembling legs, dragging you closer to the edge with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips.
Your breath caught. He pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead against yours.
âI love you,â he murmured, barely audible, like it had slipped out before he could stop it.
âLove you too, big guy,â you whispered, smiling as you pulled him back down to you.
The porch light flickered on above you as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the worn steps. Joel stood just off-center in front of the door, fingers loosely laced, jaw tense, shoulders drawn up like he expected to be called into a principalâs office.
You watched him for a moment, the way his eyes kept scanning the darkening yard, how his foot tapped once, then twice. He was wearing that soft brown light jacket over the green flannel, the one you loved so much. His hair was smoothed back now, but you could still see the faint tousle where your fingers had been tangled in it less than an hour ago. There was something boyish about how nervous he looked.
You stepped in close and laid a hand flat against his chest.
âHey,â you said gently. âYouâre okay.â
His eyes finally met yours, soft and searching, and you offered him a small smile as your fingers smoothed out the front of his shirt, pressing down a wrinkle that wasnât really there.
âYouâre gonna be fine, Joel. Itâs just dinner.â
âDo they know that Iâmâ?â he mumbled.
You leaned up, brushed your lips over his, cutting him off. It wasnât hungry or rushed, just soft, sweet, and steady.Â
When you pulled back, your voice was quiet. âRelax. Like I said, theyâre gonna love you.â
He exhaled through his nose, a little shaky, and gave a small nod. His hand came up to rest gently on your waist, thumb brushing over your hip like he needed the contact to stay grounded.
Then, behind you, the front door creaked open with a slow, familiar groan. You turned just enough to see the porch light glint off your dadâs glasses.
Joel straightened like heâd been caught doing something criminal. âSir,â he greeted, stepping forward to shake your dadâs hand.
Your father was stone-faced, giving Joel a single nod as he returned the handshake. He stood in the doorway, quiet and watchful, eyes moving between the two of you without a word.
You swallowed, throat suddenly dry.
âAre they here!?â came a familiar voice from just inside. A second later, your mom popped her head around your dadâs shoulder, her hands clutching his arm. Her eyes lit up the second she saw you.
âThere she is!â she squealed, practically barreling into you for a hug.
You let out a soft laugh as she wrapped her arms around you, warm and overwhelming in the best way. She pulled back just enough to hold you at armâs length, eyes flicking over your face like she was making sure you were really here.
Then her gaze shifted.
âAnd you must be Joel!â she said brightly, stepping toward him with a big smile.
âYes, maâam,â he replied politely.
âOh, donât call me that,â she waved him off, offering her name instead.
You caught the twitch of a smile on Joelâs face as he repeated it, his voice soft with that drawl you knew so well.
She reached out and placed her hands on his arms, eyes roaming over him with zero subtlety. âWell, arenât you handsome,â she said with a wink.
âMomâŠâ you groaned under your breath.
âCome inside, you two. Dinnerâs nearly ready.â
Joel glanced at you, his jaw tight but his eyes softer now. There was still a flicker of nerves there, but beneath it was something quieter. Maybe even grateful. Like he couldnât quite believe he got to be standing here, hand still warm from your dadâs handshake, your momâs voice ringing with welcome, your hand just a breath away from his.
You offered him a small smile, one he returned without thinking, and the two of you stepped inside together.
You leaned up to kiss your dadâs cheek as you passed, and he returned it gently, one hand settling on your arm in a quiet, welcoming squeeze.
âSo,â your dadâs voice carried from the head of the table, âwhat is it you do, Joe?â
âItâs Joel, dad.â
Your father raised his eyebrows like he hadnât noticed the correction, even though he absolutely had.
âI own Miller Contractinâ,â Joel said, calm and steady. âWe build houses, do commercial work, though mostly stick to residential these days. All across the county.â
Your dad nodded, still not looking up from his plate, chewing a little harder than usual. âMiller Contracting⊠That just you, or you got a crew?â
âMy brother and I are partners, we got a good crew of guys.â
âHmm.â
A long sip of iced tea later, your dadâs voice pipes up again: âWhat kinda permits you gotta pull for that subdivision on the west side?â
You blinked. âDadââ
Joel didnât miss a beat. âDepends on the parcel. New builds gotta go through the county first, then the town for inspection sign-off. If itâs remodels or additions, we skip the land survey.â
Your dad finally looked up, eyes narrowing. âAnd your license number?â
Joel raised an eyebrow right back. âYou wanna write it down?â
That earned a chuckle from your brother across the table, who quickly masked it with a bite of roll.
Your dad gave a grunt that couldâve meant anything, then pointed his fork across the table. âYou hunt?â
âNot in a while,â Joel said. âUsed to. Mostly just keep a few rifles around now, in case somethinâ needs shootinâ.â
Another nod.
Then, after a long pause, your dad took another bite and mumbled around his food, âBuilt that deck out back myself, yâknow. Back in â98.â
âYeah, when I was 8 months pregnant and bout ready to burst from stress,â your mom quipped with a little scoff.
Joel, bless him, didnât so much as smirk. âItâs a good build. Still holdinâ up well.â
Your dadâs fork hovered in the air, then he gave a small, barely-there nod like Joel had just passed some pop quiz of his.
You finally started to relax until he opened his mouth again.
âOne last question, Joel,â your dad said casually, sawing through his steak.
Joelâs shoulders tensed slightly. âYessir.â
Your dad glanced across the table. His eyes flicked to your neck, then to Joel. Then back to you. With his knife, he gestured loosely toward your collarbone.
âThat a hickey on my daughterâs neck?â
You nearly choked on your water.
Joel froze, fork halfway to his mouth.
There was a beat of stunned silence before your mom smacked your dadâs arm.
âDavid.â
âWhat?â he asked, feigning innocence, still chewing.
Joel cleared his throat. Loudly. âIâuhâmust be⊠a-a nasty bug bite or somethinâ.â
You stared down at your plate, cheeks on fire, absolutely refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
Your dad just grinned around another bite, like heâd just scored the winning point in a game no one else knew they were playing.
Later, the two of you ended up shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, trading off dishes and bumping hips as you loaded the dishwasher and tackled the giant roasting pan your mom had insisted was âvintage, not ancient.â
Joel rinsed a plate, set it in the rack, and glanced at you with a sly grin. âYou always this bossy with kitchen duty?â
You shot him a look over your shoulder. âIâm not bossy. Iâm efficient.â
âYou barely let me step up to the sink before you were shovinâ the dryinâ rag in my hand.â
âI did not.â
âReckon ya did, sweetheart. And to think Iâm just tryna be a good guest.â
You laughed, nudging him with your hip. âI just know where our strengths and weaknesses lie is all.â
âUh-huh.â He held up the rag and dish in hand dramatically. âWell, Iâm puttinâ it on my rĂ©sumĂ©.â
âOh yeah? Skills: contracting, firearm safety, surviving dad interrogation, and above-average dish drying?â
He turned to you, eyes playful. âYou forgot exceptional boyfriend.â
You pretended to think about it. âJuryâs still out.â
He gave you a mock glare. âKeep talkinâ like that and youâre gettinâ another one of them hickeys on your neck. Right on the other side. Bet your dad would love that.â
Your eyes widened. âJoel.â
âSymmetry,â he said with a shrug, like it was the most reasonable explanation in the world.
Joel stepped back from the counter, towel still in hand, and playfully flicked it toward your backside. You squealed, swatting at him with your sudsy hand, and nearly bumped into the oven.
You were both laughing when the kitchen door creaked open and your dad leaned inside.
Joel straightened like heâd been caught red-handed again, shoulders stiff.
Your dad gave a long look at the two of you, then cleared his throat. âJoel.â
âYes, sir?â
âYou drink beer?â
Joel blinked. âSure do.â
Your dad nodded once, like heâd already made the decision before asking. âCome out on the porch. I got a few in the cooler.â
Joel shot you a quick look, like he was trying to read if this was good or bad.
You just smiled and mouthed, go.
He followed your dad out, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he went. You watched him go with a little flutter in your chest.
âOh,â a sudden thought crossed your mind, âdaddy?â
Both men turned.
âYeah, baby?â
âYes, honey?â
The silence that followed was crippling.
Joel went stiff as a board, like heâd just realized heâd stepped off a cliff and was waiting for gravity to finish the job. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. He looked between you and your dad with eyes wide as saucers, face draining of color.
Your dad was staring at him. Hard.
You turned crimson, choking on air. âIâI was just... I was gonna ask if you wanted someâMom said there was pie for dessert. Or maybe it was cheesecake? I donâtâI donât know. Actually, let me go ask her.â
You slapped the sponge onto the counter and bolted, eyes on the floor, muttering something that mightâve been English as you fled the kitchen.
You sat curled into the corner of the couch, a slice of pie balanced on your lap and your second glass of wine halfway gone. The living room was dim, lit mostly by the lamp beside your momâs armchair and the soft flicker from the TV, playing some home renovation show you werenât really watching.
Your mom leaned back, swirling her wine. âSo⊠heâs cute.â
You smiled behind your fork. âMmhm.â
âAnd polite. Little stiff.â
âHe was a little nervous. Beinâ...â you shrugged, âYou know, same age as you guys and all.â
Your mom raised her eyebrows, taking another sip from her glass. âPlease. Age is but a number these days. The amount of older men I dated when I was your ageâŠâ she chuckled to herself at the memories.
You snorted, shaking your head as you scooped another bite of pie, the quiet of the house settling in around you like a blanket.
She tilted her head, watching you with that knowing, mom-look. âHe seems like a good man, honey.â
âHe is,â you said softly, nodding.
Your momâs gaze softened as she looked at you over the rim of her glass. âI see the way he looks at you. The way you two laugh together. It's nice⊠seeing you like this.â
You felt your smile pull a little deeper, the warmth in your cheeks not just from the wine. âYeah,â you murmured. âIt feels nice, too.â
The moment settled between you, quiet and soft until your thoughts drifted to the porch. You tried not to let your mind wander, but it crept in anyway. Whatever conversation Joel and your dad were having out there⊠you hadnât wanted to hear it. After the fiasco in the kitchen you just hoped he was alive. But then you heard the back door open, the low rumble of Joelâs voice, and your dad laughing about something involving backyard irrigation, you knew whatever happened, it hadnât gone badly.
Joel and your dad stepped into the living room, their voices trailing off mid-conversation.
ââand I told him if he tried to DIY those stone steps without checking the grading, he was gonna bust his ass in the first rain.â
Your dad huffed a laugh. âYouâre not wrong. Maybe Iâll call your company in spring.â
Joel just gave a polite smile, his eyes finding yours immediately.
Your mom rose to her feet and crossed the room to kiss him on the cheek, then turned to wrap her arms around you. âThank you for cominâ tonight. Come back anytime, you two.â
You smiled, hugging her tight. âWe will.â
âYou picked a good one,â she whispered in your ear, giving you a little squeeze before she headed toward the hallway, bidding you goodnight.
You turned just in time to see Joel and your dad shaking hands. It looked firm, respectful, less like a test this time and more like an understanding.
You crossed the room and kissed your father goodbye, and while he didnât say much, his hand on your back lingered for a second longer than usual. That was about as close as you were gonna get to a blessing.
You and Joel walked out to the truck in the cool night air, his hand brushing your lower back, just enough to feel steady.
Once inside the cab, he pulled the door shut and let out a massive exhale, sinking into the seat like heâd just survived a firefight.
You grinned at him, cheeks warm from the wine and your heart even warmer.
âYou did good tonight,â you said softly.
He looked at you like youâd just handed him a ribbon at the county fair. âYeah?â
You nodded. âReally good. You survived my dad. Didnât insult his deck. Kept it very buttoned up.â
He huffed a laugh, âIt is a nice deck.â
You leaned your head back against the seat, looking at him through your lashes. âKinda hot, actually. Watching you all nervous and respectable.â
He gave you a look. âFew times in there I wasnât so sure. Thought he might shoot me right then and there when he asked about your neck. And donât get me started on your stunt in the kitchen.â
You groaned and covered your face. âI didnât meaaaan it.â
Joel chuckled, the sound soft and low as he reached over and gently tugged your hand away from your face. âStill nearly gave both me and your old man a heart attack.âÂ
You grinned at him as he kissed your hand gently, one knuckle at a time, âBut youâre my old man.â
He let out a breath, shaking his head as his smile tugged wide and helpless. âJesus,â he muttered. âYouâre gonna be the death of me, darlinâ.â
You leaned in, bumping your nose against his. âWorth it.â
#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fic#tlou#the last of us#the last of us fic#joel miller one shot#joel miller fanfic#joel miller tlou#ameliaâs wows#ameliaâs rereads#ameliaâs fic recs
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Old!joel miller x fem!reader
Minors dni! đpeepaw brainless smut under the cut
Age gap (reader is 20 something and joel is 61), free use, dubon if u squint, squirting, mentions of the word 'daddy', joels a meanie, breeding
I'm ovulating if u couldn't tell (˶Ëâ€Ë˶)
If old!joel miller was my husband we'd fuck all day. He has to take viagra every day to keep up with a young thing like me.
Waking up with his dick in me and minutes later he fucks me dumb with it. It's the only time he can fuck me without that little blue pill.
When I make breakfast he takes it along with his other pills for blood pressure and his heart cuz he's a fkng old man. I wear one of his big shirts while making scrambled eggs when he suddenly rams his cock into me, making me almost drop the pan on the floor. I'm going hazy on his cock and grip the counter top and when I finally cream on it, the eggs are burned. His finger picks up my juices and he brings it to his mouth. "Guess my breakfast isn't fucked up after all..."
He's working on his plans to help jackson out with his slutty old man glasses and it turns me on so badly, I start sucking his cock under his desk. It's so warm and heavy in my mouth, and I lick his thick vein slow and deliberate and his hand grabs my hair. "Don't tease me slut, just suck it like a good girl, you are one right?" He says and I nod as he forces his cock down my throat.
It turns me on so much. I'm so thankful to be his personal fucktoy. My panties are always soaked around him. I'm not on birthcontrol so when I'm ovulating, I'm BEGGING for his seed but he doesn't wanna give it to me because "I'm grandpa age, not dad age" as he fucks me dumb. My cunt clenches at his words and he says "fuck that turns you on? Fucking a grandpa? You're such a dirty young thing. Fuck I'm so lucky" i keep begging for his cum and eventually he gives in and fills me up soo good. "Aren't you embarrassed? That everyone will see your swollen belly and know that you fuck such a dirty old man. You're such a fucking whore."
At the new years eve party I wouldn't keep my hands off him. I'd wear a short skirt with no panties and bend in front of him. Even tommy can see my throbbing wet pussy and he gets hard and joel notices and drags me to the toilet where he fucks me so hard, i scream. But joel didn't lock the door, he wanted people to come in and see me cream around an old veiny cock with pigmented spots and grey pubes. All because of that damn pill.
And it's not over. We go back home and as soon as he locks the door he bends me over at the dinner table and fucks me hard again and smacks my ass. He turns me around and rips my dress to get acces to my boobs. I didn't wear a bra either and he sucks my nipples and bites them so hard they start to bleed but it's fine cuz he can do whatever he wants to my body.
As we go to sleep, I sleep in my cute pink top with little bows on it with matching underwear. I'm so tired from all this fucking all day but he isn't. Oh no he took that viagra and will make use of it as much as he can. "Why are you wearing underwear? Thought I said I need acces to you all time. Whenever I want." I was so sleepy but managed to nod and say a soft sorry. "I'll show you how sorry you'll be." He says as he enters his big girthy cock inside me again. He fucked me like a sexdoll. I was just laying there, letting him use me. I couldn't do anything, just be a good girl for him.
His stamina was crazy. "You're 40 years younger than me and can't keep up? You're so useless." He said as he grabbed my one leg and put it over his shoulder, hitting my spot so right I screamed. "Good girl. Cum for me now." He said and my voice broke "i-i can't joel" and he chuckled and rubbed me clit hard and faster "you dumb slut, that's not my name." Tears began to form at my eyes and I came with a heavy cry "D-daddy I'm so sorry." But he didn't stop, no he fucks me like an animal till I squirt and pass out. He still didn't stop. He fucked my unconscious body till he squirted all his load in me. His balls are empty at this point. He pulled out and gave me a kiss on my temple before he laid down next to me.
But before he went to sleep, he grabbed my one leg and entered his cock in me and I softly hummed. I could only sleep like this and he knows it. My pussy squeezes him and he groans. "Fuck are you kidding me?" He says before he starts to trust in me again.
747 notes
·
View notes
Text
Joel's smells and kinks
- his pits are hairy and sweaty
- they smell of musky man
- his balls are always sticking to his thighs from sweat
- they smell warm and sticky to touch
- his ass is furry, and cheeks sweaty
- he's got a pretty pink hole
- he secretly fingers himself in the mirror
- he eats his pre cum
- he always gets a boner in public, but never makes any effort to hide them
- his underwear has always got pre cum stains on them
43 notes
·
View notes
Text

Joel Miller meeting your parents
this is just a stupid little thing from seeing this gif of him in this post ok thank you and goodnight. Been having writers block so if an idea can get this far on docs Iâm posting it
|| fluff, little bit nsfw, daddy kink, old man joel, peepaw joel meets your parents, reader's dad is kind of a hard ass, I suck at flirty banter tbh, cracking up at some of the shit I put in here, enjoy ||
âBaby, Iâm seriousââ Joel said, but his hands betrayed him, gripping at your hips like he couldnât help himself as you climbed into his lap. Your knees framed his thick thighs, still clad in worn denim, while his green plaid shirt had come untucked and bunched around his waist. A sliver of soft, tanned stomach peeked out as he leaned back against the bed frame.
âIâm serious too,â you murmured, voice thick with want as you pressed your mouth to his neck. Your fingers wove through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. âNeed you, Joel. Been thinking about this all day.â
âWeâre gonna be late if you keep this up,â he rasped, even as his head tipped back to give you more of his throat, groaning low when your teeth grazed the scruff along his jaw.
âDonât care,â you breathed, lips brushing the shell of his ear. âTheyâll be fine.â
You hiked your skirt higher, rocking down against him, already expecting to feel that familiar ache of him beneath youâbut instead, your hips stilled at the softness of his lap. You blinked, confused, pulling back just enough to search his face. But Joel wouldnât meet your eyes. His gaze darted everywhere else, over your shoulder, to the wall behind you, the damn nightstandâanywhere but you.
ââŠJoel?â
He still wouldnât look at you. You moved your hands to his chest, flattening them against the flannel, feeling the heavy thudding of his heart beneath your fingers.
âYou okay?â you asked, softer now, studying him. He looked nice tonight with his hair slicked back, beard freshly trimmed, and his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the veins in his forearms.
You cocked your head, more curious than concerned now as you really looked at him. âAre youâŠâ You reached up, cupping his jaw, gently turning his face until his eyes finally met yours. âJoel Miller, are you nervous?â
He let out a long breath, his voice low and a little rough. âCourse Iâm nervous, baby.â
âWhy?â you asked, easing back in his lap. You could still feel the warmth of his hands on your hips, thumbs sweeping slow, steady circles. It was more soothing for him than you now, grounding himself in the feeling of you.
âAny manâd be nervous meetinâ his girlâs parents for the first time,â he muttered, eyes flicking away again. Then, quieter, âEven if they werenât his own damn ageâŠâ
You smiled softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his lipsâgentle, unhurried. He let you, kissing you back with a quiet sigh, the kind that said he was trying not to get pulled under. You hovered close, noses brushing, before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes again.
âTheyâre gonna love you,â you whispered.
Joel gave a dry huff, eyes flicking away. âTheyâre gonna think Iâm a damn pervert.â
âYou are a pervert.â
His gaze snapped back to yours, narrowing just a bit, the muscles in his jaw tightening. You didnât miss the way his brows dipped or how his eyes darkened, heat stirring just beneath the surface.
You bit back a grin, fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt. âItâs one of my favorite things about you.â
He rolled his eyes, still glaring up at you, and you let your shoulders drop, giving in. âOkay, so youâre older than me, who cares? Youâre also respectful. And kind. Youâre a good man. You even built my cat a window catio.â
That earned the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, though he still wouldnât look at you.
âAnd you didnât have to say yes to any of this,â you added, quieter now. âBut you did.â
He let out a breath, one hand tightening just slightly at your waist.
You leaned in, your nose brushing his. âAnd if I thought for one second they wouldnât like you, I wouldnât be dragging you into this.â
Finally, his eyes flicked to yours, unsure but searching.
You gave him a small smile. âYouâve got nothing to prove. Just⊠be yourself. Maybe with slightly less scowling.â
His lips twitched into even more of a smile then, and you kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering there a moment. âBut if it helpsâŠâ you murmured, lips grazing his jaw now, âI can think of something to get your mind off it for a minute.â
Joel let out a slow breath, one heâd been holding in the entirety of your reassurances, his head falling back against your pillows again.
You smiled against his throat, lips curved with mischief. âI mean⊠if you really want me to stopâŠâ you murmured, pressing your mouth to the spot just under his jaw. âI could get off your lap.â
Your hips shifted like you might, and his grip on you instantly tightened.
âBut thenâŠâ you went on, voice all innocent and sinful at once, âwhat should I do about all this?â
You reached down, took his hand in yours, and guided it between your thighs, right over your panties, where the heat of you was unmistakable. His palm pressed flush against the soaked fabric, and you felt his breath catch sharp in his chest.
He hummed low in his throat, something dark and approving, and as your fingers slipped away, his own pressed harder. His touch was firm, possessive, like heâd been dying to do it but holding back until now.
âThisâs all for me?â he finally muttered, voice rough as gravel. âJust from sittinâ in daddyâs lap, huh?â
You whimpered, rocking into his hand, desperate for more friction as you nodded. He gave it to you, slow circles with his fingers that had your breath stuttering, your thighs trembling around his. Even with the fabric between you, you could feel his rough calloused pads of his fingers perfectly against the heat of you.
âJoel,â you whined, barely even meaning to say it.
With a grunt, he shifted, and suddenly your back hit the mattress with a soft thud. He was over you in a flash, his body heavy and hot as he settled between your legs, looking at you like he was starving.
âYou got me all worked up now,â he muttered, voice thick and low as his hands dragged your skirt higher, exposing more of your thighs. âCanât let you walk out that door like this.â
He dipped his head to your neck, lips brushing over your pulse point before suckling gently. The scrape of his beard followed, rough and hot, as he worked his way lower, mouthing at the curve of your collarbone. Then down further, pushing your shirt up as he went, lifting it just enough to mouth at the soft skin of your chest.
âLet me take care of you,â he rasped, dragging his tongue over the top of your breast, nipping at it like he couldnât help himself. âLet me take care of this little problem, huh, baby?â
You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers tangling in his hair. âKnew Iâd get your mind off it, old man.â
His hands were everywhere nowâpalming your thighs, gripping your hips, pushing your panties aside just enough to slide his fingers back where they belonged in your wet, glistening entrance. His mouth returned to your skin, kissing and suckling until your back arched and your breath hitched in your throat.
Joel finally lifted his head, eyes dark and hungry as he hovered over you.
âYou gonna be the one tellinâ your parents why weâre late?â he quirked his eyebrow with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You smirked, hands sliding up his shoulders and onto his neck, tugging at the nape of his hair, âIâll say I had to help you calm your nerves. Blow off some steam. Pretty sure Iâm doing everyone a favor.â
Joel huffed a low laugh, shaking his head as he looked down at you. âThat so?â he murmured, his smile pulling a little wider. âYouâre real proud of yourself, huh?â
You grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. âYouâre welcome.â
He chuckled again, the sound low and warm in his chest. But then something shifted, his gaze lingering a little longer, smile easing into something softer. His eyes flicked around your face like he was locking it into his memory. The mischief faded, replaced by something deeper, something heavier.
When he kissed you, it wasnât playful anymore. It was deep and unhurried, messy and slow, full of everything that had led up to this night, where you were finally taking this next step, where things became even more real. One hand braced beside your head, the other deep inside you between your trembling legs, dragging you closer to the edge with every slow, deliberate roll of his hips.
Your breath caught. He pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead against yours.
âI love you,â he murmured, barely audible, like it had slipped out before he could stop it.
âLove you too, big guy,â you whispered, smiling as you pulled him back down to you.
The porch light flickered on above you as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows across the worn steps. Joel stood just off-center in front of the door, fingers loosely laced, jaw tense, shoulders drawn up like he expected to be called into a principalâs office.
You watched him for a moment, the way his eyes kept scanning the darkening yard, how his foot tapped once, then twice. He was wearing that soft brown light jacket over the green flannel, the one you loved so much. His hair was smoothed back now, but you could still see the faint tousle where your fingers had been tangled in it less than an hour ago. There was something boyish about how nervous he looked.
You stepped in close and laid a hand flat against his chest.
âHey,â you said gently. âYouâre okay.â
His eyes finally met yours, soft and searching, and you offered him a small smile as your fingers smoothed out the front of his shirt, pressing down a wrinkle that wasnât really there.
âYouâre gonna be fine, Joel. Itâs just dinner.â
âDo they know that Iâmâ?â he mumbled.
You leaned up, brushed your lips over his, cutting him off. It wasnât hungry or rushed, just soft, sweet, and steady.Â
When you pulled back, your voice was quiet. âRelax. Like I said, theyâre gonna love you.â
He exhaled through his nose, a little shaky, and gave a small nod. His hand came up to rest gently on your waist, thumb brushing over your hip like he needed the contact to stay grounded.
Then, behind you, the front door creaked open with a slow, familiar groan. You turned just enough to see the porch light glint off your dadâs glasses.
Joel straightened like heâd been caught doing something criminal. âSir,â he greeted, stepping forward to shake your dadâs hand.
Your father was stone-faced, giving Joel a single nod as he returned the handshake. He stood in the doorway, quiet and watchful, eyes moving between the two of you without a word.
You swallowed, throat suddenly dry.
âAre they here!?â came a familiar voice from just inside. A second later, your mom popped her head around your dadâs shoulder, her hands clutching his arm. Her eyes lit up the second she saw you.
âThere she is!â she squealed, practically barreling into you for a hug.
You let out a soft laugh as she wrapped her arms around you, warm and overwhelming in the best way. She pulled back just enough to hold you at armâs length, eyes flicking over your face like she was making sure you were really here.
Then her gaze shifted.
âAnd you must be Joel!â she said brightly, stepping toward him with a big smile.
âYes, maâam,â he replied politely.
âOh, donât call me that,â she waved him off, offering her name instead.
You caught the twitch of a smile on Joelâs face as he repeated it, his voice soft with that drawl you knew so well.
She reached out and placed her hands on his arms, eyes roaming over him with zero subtlety. âWell, arenât you handsome,â she said with a wink.
âMomâŠâ you groaned under your breath.
âCome inside, you two. Dinnerâs nearly ready.â
Joel glanced at you, his jaw tight but his eyes softer now. There was still a flicker of nerves there, but beneath it was something quieter. Maybe even grateful. Like he couldnât quite believe he got to be standing here, hand still warm from your dadâs handshake, your momâs voice ringing with welcome, your hand just a breath away from his.
You offered him a small smile, one he returned without thinking, and the two of you stepped inside together.
You leaned up to kiss your dadâs cheek as you passed, and he returned it gently, one hand settling on your arm in a quiet, welcoming squeeze.
âSo,â your dadâs voice carried from the head of the table, âwhat is it you do, Joe?â
âItâs Joel, dad.â
Your father raised his eyebrows like he hadnât noticed the correction, even though he absolutely had.
âI own Miller Contractinâ,â Joel said, calm and steady. âWe build houses, do commercial work, though mostly stick to residential these days. All across the county.â
Your dad nodded, still not looking up from his plate, chewing a little harder than usual. âMiller Contracting⊠That just you, or you got a crew?â
âMy brother and I are partners, we got a good crew of guys.â
âHmm.â
A long sip of iced tea later, your dadâs voice pipes up again: âWhat kinda permits you gotta pull for that subdivision on the west side?â
You blinked. âDadââ
Joel didnât miss a beat. âDepends on the parcel. New builds gotta go through the county first, then the town for inspection sign-off. If itâs remodels or additions, we skip the land survey.â
Your dad finally looked up, eyes narrowing. âAnd your license number?â
Joel raised an eyebrow right back. âYou wanna write it down?â
That earned a chuckle from your brother across the table, who quickly masked it with a bite of roll.
Your dad gave a grunt that couldâve meant anything, then pointed his fork across the table. âYou hunt?â
âNot in a while,â Joel said. âUsed to. Mostly just keep a few rifles around now, in case somethinâ needs shootinâ.â
Another nod.
Then, after a long pause, your dad took another bite and mumbled around his food, âBuilt that deck out back myself, yâknow. Back in â98.â
âYeah, when I was 8 months pregnant and bout ready to burst from stress,â your mom quipped with a little scoff.
Joel, bless him, didnât so much as smirk. âItâs a good build. Still holdinâ up well.â
Your dadâs fork hovered in the air, then he gave a small, barely-there nod like Joel had just passed some pop quiz of his.
You finally started to relax until he opened his mouth again.
âOne last question, Joel,â your dad said casually, sawing through his steak.
Joelâs shoulders tensed slightly. âYessir.â
Your dad glanced across the table. His eyes flicked to your neck, then to Joel. Then back to you. With his knife, he gestured loosely toward your collarbone.
âThat a hickey on my daughterâs neck?â
You nearly choked on your water.
Joel froze, fork halfway to his mouth.
There was a beat of stunned silence before your mom smacked your dadâs arm.
âDavid.â
âWhat?â he asked, feigning innocence, still chewing.
Joel cleared his throat. Loudly. âIâuhâmust be⊠a-a nasty bug bite or somethinâ.â
You stared down at your plate, cheeks on fire, absolutely refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
Your dad just grinned around another bite, like heâd just scored the winning point in a game no one else knew they were playing.
Later, the two of you ended up shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, trading off dishes and bumping hips as you loaded the dishwasher and tackled the giant roasting pan your mom had insisted was âvintage, not ancient.â
Joel rinsed a plate, set it in the rack, and glanced at you with a sly grin. âYou always this bossy with kitchen duty?â
You shot him a look over your shoulder. âIâm not bossy. Iâm efficient.â
âYou barely let me step up to the sink before you were shovinâ the dryinâ rag in my hand.â
âI did not.â
âReckon ya did, sweetheart. And to think Iâm just tryna be a good guest.â
You laughed, nudging him with your hip. âI just know where our strengths and weaknesses lie is all.â
âUh-huh.â He held up the rag and dish in hand dramatically. âWell, Iâm puttinâ it on my rĂ©sumĂ©.â
âOh yeah? Skills: contracting, firearm safety, surviving dad interrogation, and above-average dish drying?â
He turned to you, eyes playful. âYou forgot exceptional boyfriend.â
You pretended to think about it. âJuryâs still out.â
He gave you a mock glare. âKeep talkinâ like that and youâre gettinâ another one of them hickeys on your neck. Right on the other side. Bet your dad would love that.â
Your eyes widened. âJoel.â
âSymmetry,â he said with a shrug, like it was the most reasonable explanation in the world.
Joel stepped back from the counter, towel still in hand, and playfully flicked it toward your backside. You squealed, swatting at him with your sudsy hand, and nearly bumped into the oven.
You were both laughing when the kitchen door creaked open and your dad leaned inside.
Joel straightened like heâd been caught red-handed again, shoulders stiff.
Your dad gave a long look at the two of you, then cleared his throat. âJoel.â
âYes, sir?â
âYou drink beer?â
Joel blinked. âSure do.â
Your dad nodded once, like heâd already made the decision before asking. âCome out on the porch. I got a few in the cooler.â
Joel shot you a quick look, like he was trying to read if this was good or bad.
You just smiled and mouthed, go.
He followed your dad out, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he went. You watched him go with a little flutter in your chest.
âOh,â a sudden thought crossed your mind, âdaddy?â
Both men turned.
âYeah, baby?â
âYes, honey?â
The silence that followed was crippling.
Joel went stiff as a board, like heâd just realized heâd stepped off a cliff and was waiting for gravity to finish the job. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. He looked between you and your dad with eyes wide as saucers, face draining of color.
Your dad was staring at him. Hard.
You turned crimson, choking on air. âIâI was just... I was gonna ask if you wanted someâMom said there was pie for dessert. Or maybe it was cheesecake? I donâtâI donât know. Actually, let me go ask her.â
You slapped the sponge onto the counter and bolted, eyes on the floor, muttering something that mightâve been English as you fled the kitchen.
You sat curled into the corner of the couch, a slice of pie balanced on your lap and your second glass of wine halfway gone. The living room was dim, lit mostly by the lamp beside your momâs armchair and the soft flicker from the TV, playing some home renovation show you werenât really watching.
Your mom leaned back, swirling her wine. âSo⊠heâs cute.â
You smiled behind your fork. âMmhm.â
âAnd polite. Little stiff.â
âHe was a little nervous. Beinâ...â you shrugged, âYou know, same age as you guys and all.â
Your mom raised her eyebrows, taking another sip from her glass. âPlease. Age is but a number these days. The amount of older men I dated when I was your ageâŠâ she chuckled to herself at the memories.
You snorted, shaking your head as you scooped another bite of pie, the quiet of the house settling in around you like a blanket.
She tilted her head, watching you with that knowing, mom-look. âHe seems like a good man, honey.â
âHe is,â you said softly, nodding.
Your momâs gaze softened as she looked at you over the rim of her glass. âI see the way he looks at you. The way you two laugh together. It's nice⊠seeing you like this.â
You felt your smile pull a little deeper, the warmth in your cheeks not just from the wine. âYeah,â you murmured. âIt feels nice, too.â
The moment settled between you, quiet and soft until your thoughts drifted to the porch. You tried not to let your mind wander, but it crept in anyway. Whatever conversation Joel and your dad were having out there⊠you hadnât wanted to hear it. After the fiasco in the kitchen you just hoped he was alive. But then you heard the back door open, the low rumble of Joelâs voice, and your dad laughing about something involving backyard irrigation, you knew whatever happened, it hadnât gone badly.
Joel and your dad stepped into the living room, their voices trailing off mid-conversation.
ââand I told him if he tried to DIY those stone steps without checking the grading, he was gonna bust his ass in the first rain.â
Your dad huffed a laugh. âYouâre not wrong. Maybe Iâll call your company in spring.â
Joel just gave a polite smile, his eyes finding yours immediately.
Your mom rose to her feet and crossed the room to kiss him on the cheek, then turned to wrap her arms around you. âThank you for cominâ tonight. Come back anytime, you two.â
You smiled, hugging her tight. âWe will.â
âYou picked a good one,â she whispered in your ear, giving you a little squeeze before she headed toward the hallway, bidding you goodnight.
You turned just in time to see Joel and your dad shaking hands. It looked firm, respectful, less like a test this time and more like an understanding.
You crossed the room and kissed your father goodbye, and while he didnât say much, his hand on your back lingered for a second longer than usual. That was about as close as you were gonna get to a blessing.
You and Joel walked out to the truck in the cool night air, his hand brushing your lower back, just enough to feel steady.
Once inside the cab, he pulled the door shut and let out a massive exhale, sinking into the seat like heâd just survived a firefight.
You grinned at him, cheeks warm from the wine and your heart even warmer.
âYou did good tonight,â you said softly.
He looked at you like youâd just handed him a ribbon at the county fair. âYeah?â
You nodded. âReally good. You survived my dad. Didnât insult his deck. Kept it very buttoned up.â
He huffed a laugh, âIt is a nice deck.â
You leaned your head back against the seat, looking at him through your lashes. âKinda hot, actually. Watching you all nervous and respectable.â
He gave you a look. âFew times in there I wasnât so sure. Thought he might shoot me right then and there when he asked about your neck. And donât get me started on your stunt in the kitchen.â
You groaned and covered your face. âI didnât meaaaan it.â
Joel chuckled, the sound soft and low as he reached over and gently tugged your hand away from your face. âStill nearly gave both me and your old man a heart attack.âÂ
You grinned at him as he kissed your hand gently, one knuckle at a time, âBut youâre my old man.â
He let out a breath, shaking his head as his smile tugged wide and helpless. âJesus,â he muttered. âYouâre gonna be the death of me, darlinâ.â
You leaned in, bumping your nose against his. âWorth it.â
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
ITS MY BDAY TODAY AND I SHALL FINALLY READ THIS AAAAA
birthday girl



summary: sometimes a girl just needs to cry her way through her birthday; joel makes sure you cry for a good reason this year.
tags: 18+, smut, praise kink, crying, crying during sex but not for bad reasons, fingering, joel has big hands (duh), soft sex, sweet sex, clingy!reader, academic!reader (implied), reader is younger than joel, reader is in college still but no age is discussed, anxious!reader, quiet!reader, soft!joel, dom!joel (a little?), praise kink (again), boyfriend!joel, use of the following nicknames: baby, dove, birthday girl, reader has hair, size difference kind of, happy ending :]
a/n: it's my birthday today !! and i felt like projecting into a fic so here is this thing i wrote in one sitting HAHA <3
(1.4k, not beta read)
âBaby?â Joel calls softly.
Heâs knuckle deep in you, stretching you across two of his fingers. You can feel how youâre melting onto him, how you clench onto him in every way possible.
Thereâs no possible way that this is comfortable for him, not in the slightest. You can tell that his wrist is aching, that the forearm heâs resting on is aching, but he hasnât said anything yet and you donât want this to stop.
Heâs laid beside you kind of, with one of your legs out on the opposite side of the bed while the other is sandwiched between his own. He always lets you hold yourself open how you want, and tonight you want to be as close to him as you can.Â
Your arms are awkwardly hugging his neck down to you, so you can nuzzle into his cheek and tell him how youâre feeling. This kind of attention can feel so anxiety inducing sometimes, this weird pressure to come for him quickly so he can be done with it, even if that isnât what he wants.
Joel will coax your release from you no matter how long it takes, or how many times you want it. He doesnât mind, heâs always telling you he doesnât mind, but he needs you to talk to him through it.
âHey,â he murmurs softly, curling his fingers in you. It makes your hips twitch slightly, a soft mewl leaving your throat in response.
âHowâs my birthday girl doinâ? Is this good?â Joel asks.Â
Youâre stupidly lucky to have him.
He carried you up the stairs after you began bawling into your birthday dinner, salty tears mixing with the pasta that Joel slaved over for the evening. You couldnât swallow anymore of it, everything was feeling so heavy already and each gulp of food was landing like lumps of grease in your stomach.Â
This year has been lonely, painfully so. Somewhere between high school and postsecondary you shrank back into your shell, leaving behind friend groups and growing into your own skin. It felt good for the first little while, but your success and achievements in classes didnât make up for the sinking feeling in your heart. You have some friends, but not enough for a birthday party, and they arenât close enough to remember your birthday anyways.Â
Going out to dinner felt stupid if it was just you and your boyfriend celebrating, it didnât feel important enough. Joel fought you on it at first, but gave up when he noticed how upset you were. Instead, he made dinner for you and set up some decorations.
You feel a little guilty, thinking about the birthday banner downstairs, the pasta on the table, and the cake in the fridge, but then he curls his fingers again and your eyes flutter.
âNeed your words, dove,â Joel says patiently. He doesnât thrust his fingers at all, just pushing them against your walls softly to remind you heâs there.
Managing to nod, and find your voice, you murmur a yes, feels good, but your voice is so small. Joel picks up on it right away.
âYou wanna talk, baby? Sâokay if you donât, sâokay if youâre feelinâ quiet.â
Tears start to billow and burn in the bags beneath your eyes, stinging as you close your eyes and shake your head into the crook of his neck. Your hands clasp behind his neck, pulling him closer, and he nods.Â
You feel so embarrassed and guilty, but also stupid. Here is Joel, giving you all you need, and you canât even speak up for him. You didnât finish his dinner, or blow out the candles, and heâs still reassuring you.Â
âIs it good slow? Deep and slow right now?â he asks into your ear, scruff scratching your ear.
Your soft nods reassure him and he resumes a slow pace, pushing up against your wall as he presses kisses down the side of your head and in your hair, hushing you. The feeling of his fingers in you is so foreign still, not quite new but not your own either. Heâs such a stretch compared to yourself, one that makes your brain fuzz over.Â
Joel curls his fingers in you, then strokes the inside of you with the pads of his fingers as he begins to talk.
âItâs okay youâre beinâ quiet, baby, you know I donât mind. Donât matter if you can use your voice or not, sâlong as you keep beinâ the good girl you are.â
Now the tears spill over, hot and rolling slow down your heated cheeks. There are so many emotions and heâs monopolized this overwhelming feeling into pleasure as he pulls wetness from you and spills it onto his knuckles, into his palm. Youâre surprised youâre even this turned on when youâve had such a shit day, but you know itâs because of him.Â
He hasnât realized youâre crying yet, still fingering you at an easy pace, something he hopes you can handle.Â
âJusâ wanna make you feel good, you deserve it. My strong girlâs been so tough lately, workinâ so hard to make me proud, huh?âÂ
Your tears pour into the fibers of his tee as you push your head down into his shoulder, nodding as you catch your breath between a quiet sob. This recognition feels so different, so much better.Â
âYou cryinâ?â He asks quietly.
His fingers don't still. Youâve cried a lot tonight, if you wanted it to stop he knows that youâd tell him, or kick him. You have your means of communicating, even if youâre feeling too much to speak.Â
Nodding into his shirt, you breathe out a shaky little breath. His neck feels clammy under your hot palms, but you canât bring yourself to let go.
âSâokay if youâre cryinâ, thatâs okay, baby. Itâs tough beinâ the birthday girl, right? So much stress sometimes, hard to be that pretty and special,â Joel reassures, pulling his fingers almost fully out of you before slowly easing them back into you. Thereâs a nasty noise coming from you, one that would be lewd if he wasnât so sweet.
âYeah, yeah, itâs so hard for you, but youâve been so good. Best birthday girl I know,â he hums, pushing a little harder into you now. It makes your eyes draw together as tears brim, a little sound pulling itself from your chest.
âMâso proud of you, dove, you know that? I wanna make you feel good, an extra special birthday gift for beinâ so disciplined,â Joel adds.
He drags his face down to yours, shrinking into his own body in a silly way so he can nudge your nose with his. Your eyes are closed but it doesnât matter, you donât know if you can handle seeing anything right now. Joel presses a kiss to your forehead, pushing deeper and a little faster into you as his fingers curl, drag, and press into you just right.
âCan I give you that, huh? You want your gift, birthday girl, since you were so good?Â
Everything is melting now, the tears down your face and the space between your thighs. Wet is everywhere, from your cheeks to his knuckles. Hot, and sticky, and dripping, all of you being kept together from where heâs plugged himself into you. Trying to speak, you make noises, but just babble aimlessly through a desperate sob.
Somehow, through your orgasm, you drag him closer. Heâs nearly collapsed on top of you now, barely able to keep moving his fingers as you clench around him, spilling onto him.
âThere you go, dove, there you are,â he shushes softly as your chest heaves with a mixture of gasps and sobs.
He doesnât pull away from you, just lets you cling and sob as you need, kissing wherever he can.Â
It takes awhile for you to come down, but when you have he doesnât pull away except for sliding his fingers out of you. Your head feels distant from you, eyes soft and chest exhausted.
âMaybe we can try this birthday thing again tomorrow, hm?â Joel asks, adjusting you so he can lay with you in a more comfortable position. Your head rests on the meat of his chest and you nod, eyes half open. Honestly, apart from what happened just now, today sucked. Having two birthdays sounds perfectly appealing to your melted little brain as he holds you close to his warm body.
Tomorrow, tomorrow can be your birthday.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader smut#tlou#pedro pascal#ellie writes#ameliaâs tbr
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
OWNDISBWJABA OHHH I AM GONNA ENJOY READING THIS
Older, Bolder

Pairing: GILF!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel canât get it up.
Warnings: 18+. This fic is for LIMP DICK LOVERS ONLY. If yâall canât rock with Joelâs flaccid cock, click AWAY đ« Unprotected p-in-v / intercrural sex. Oral (m!receiving). Age gap unspecified but just know heâs AARP-eligible.
Word count: 3.0k
This wasnât a problem heâd planned on having.
At twenty-five, he couldâve put you through the mattress four times over in one night and barely broken a sweat. At thirty-five, he couldâve bent you like a pretzel and fucked you eight ways to Wednesday twice a week.
Today, at the age he was, Joel Miller couldnât stand from the sofa without feeling like bones were about to snap.
He wrote grocery lists and had to stop halfway to flex his hand. He pulled up his pants and damn near always felt a strain his back. He kept a heating pad as a sidekick at work, and sometimes his baby brother teased him for it, then Joel would wag one liver-spotted finger Tommyâs way and say, âYouâll be like this, too, just wait.â The Golden Years had a habit of sneaking up on people. Nobody warned him that one day heâd be waking up feeling fine and the next not able to wiggle his toes without a herculean effort. In short, old age sucked.
The only one who didnât seem to mind as much was you.
And how could you? Joel always thought of it with some amusement. You hadnât been alive long enough to know a single wrinkle, much less as many as he had, and your knees never cracked when you kneeled. Heâd noticed that when you greeted him first thing that morning.
Mouth wide and eyes wider, you made for the perfect sight to his sleepy gaze when he lifted the comforter at 6 AM. Your tongue withdrew from the tip of his leaky cock.
âYour shift starts at seven, right?â you whispered.
Shit, heâd quit his whole job for one blowjob from you.
Joel nodded instead. He took a fistful of your hair and nodded againâkeep lickinâ the tip just like you had it, honey, thatâs it. His lids lowered. They nearly shut. Fifteen more seconds of this wet friction from your mouth and heâd be erect in no time. He knew he would.
These days, while his âmorning woodâ was never quite what it used to be, and on some occasions like these he woke up completely limp, he was almost always able to coax his cock into it. Just took a little extra time and spit.
It wasnât until your lips had slid up and down his soft shaft at least two dozen times and nothing stirred that Joel started to worry. He peeled the old coverlet back.
From where you lay between his legs, chin poised over his lap, you didnât seem bothered. In fact, you were smiling. Youâd just taken his flushed, bulbous head between your lips, and your tongue laved over the slit. Joel almost tore a hole in his throat at how good that feltâhis groan was loud. The soft suckling noises of your mouth were slight in comparison, but they were purposeful and timed exactly right. His balls twitched.
He shouldâve been rock-hard by now.
ââMâsorry, sweetheart,â Joel grunted, watching you swallow down the soft flesh of him over and over again. âDamn thing just donât wannaâŠcooperate this morninâ.â
âI donât mind.â
Youâd pulled off just long enough to say it. Then you were back to bobbing your head, eyes locked on his as you did
He didnât deserve you.
That much was clear from the way you were sucking him dutifullyâfucking cheerfullyâlike his flaccid dick was a three-star Michelin meal and you hadnât eaten all day.
It was beyond the pale in the best way possible, and Joel felt guiltier and guiltier with every brush of your lips and tongue that followed. You shouldnât have had to do this.
âLet me eat you out,â he said then. Abruptly. âFlip over.â
And he slid back on the bed, hearing the delicate, wet pop of his still-soft cock out of your mouth. You frowned.
âWhat the hell, Joel? I was just having fun,â you huffed.
You were what?
Was that not the most humiliating thing youâd ever seen?
âI canât even keep a semi,â Joel retorted, almost as low. âAinât no use wastinâ our time on me âfore I gotta leave.â
Then he started to reach for your hips, about to turn you around and have his breakfast in bed, when your hand swatted him off. The other anchored itself on his thigh, and as you sat up, Joel could tell there was something more adamant in that. You regarded him with a scowl.
âIf I wanted to make this about me, I wouldâve grabbed my vibrator and gone to town already. This is for you.â
Before he could protest, you inched up some more.
You straddled the broad, muscly legs that had once been bracketing your head, and you placed a palm on his chest. You made him lean back against the headboard.
âHoneyââ Joel started.
âZip it, Miller.â
Well, goddamn. For a woman a fraction of his age and size, you commanded him well. He didnât move a muscle.
He couldnât deny that it turned him on, too. To think that you wanted him badly enough that youâd suck the sexual equivalent of a wet noodle and then get on top of him for more. Joel had to grit his teeth and steel himself when your hips shifted. You were bare under one of his t-shirts.
And your eyes were alight with rapt intrigue. Like he was something worth salivating over, and not some decrepit old man whose dick wouldnât work. The smile you wore before had only grown bigger, and your thighs were squeezing his hips. Your heat was sliding up andâ
âFuck,â Joel hissed.
The breath was knocked out of his chest. That was how stunned he was to feel the seam of your cunt align with his length, which rested lazily across his lower stomach. You braced one hand on the headboard behind him, flattened the other palm to his chest, and again, lowered yourself, rubbed yourself, so that the underside of his shaft cut you down the middle. It parted your folds.
Your wetness was spreading down the length of him. Soft as it was, Joel was thankful he was a shower, not a grower, and he hadnât lost too much of his size by not being hard. You were pressing yourself gently against him now, bracing your knees on the bed on either side of his body, and your gaze was gradually trailing to his face.
Your motions, much to his surprise, were slow. Sensual.
You werenât in a hurry at all to get his dick hard. You simply followed what felt good: a little gyration of your hips, a press of your heat, gentle thrusts with your knees planted firmly on the bed. You were riding him, except you didnât have him inside you at all. The expressions that crossed your face couldâve fooled Joel, though.
Brows knit together in a mixture of pleasure and purpose, you peered down at him and let out the smallest whimper. The sound was more like a breath, trapped somewhere in your chest and begging to be let out with each rut of your lower half. It was as if the action was getting you offânot fucking him, but humping him.
âThatâs it, daddyâŠThatâsâoh, fuck that feels nice.â
The speed of your motions increased the slightest amount, coating his cock from root to tip, and for a minute, Joel thought he mightâve stopped breathing.
He had stopped, briefly, just to suck in a breath and hold it, and, fuck, he didnât want to let it out, because what if this was all a dream? What if he was seeing things, and you werenât really grinding on his cock at all but laughing your ass off and leaving his bed? Heaving a sigh or rolling your eyes at the sight of him still not getting hard at this.
Joel looked down to double-check his traitorous dick.
The second he caught a glimpse of your sex and his sliding against one another, though, he let out a groan.
This had to be a fucking joke.
Go, go, go, go, GO! GROW!!
âYou can do it, bud, justâŠâ Joel trailed off, realizing that he was talking to his penis out loud. âSorry. IâmâŠsorry.â
And truly, he was. Heâd never felt more remorseful or dumb. On top of that, you probably thought he was nuts.
You only giggled in response.
You leaned back, dropped your chin, and directed your attention to Joelâs woefully soft and squishy member.
A fingertip prodded at it gently; he twitched.
âCâmon, you got this!â you cheered him on.
It was lighthearted. Easy. Kind of insane.
Here you both were, egging on his peri-geriatric penis to form an erection, when Joel shouldâve been balls deep in you. Shouldâve been giving you exactly what you needed, how you needed it, with little to no interference to your pleasure. And now here you were. Talking to it instead.
âI love you,â Joel blurted out.
Heâd only said this a handful of times to dateâyour relationship was still relatively newâbut at present, he couldnât help it. You were making him laugh when just minutes ago heâd felt as humiliated as heâd ever been.
You leaned down to kiss him, and you said it back to him.
âI love you,â Joel murmured again, against your lips.
âIââ You shifted over his lap, so that your lower halves were re-aligned and he could feel you. âI love you, Joel.â
The sound of those words, paired with the soft, warm friction of your bodies moving in tandem, had pleasure pooling through his gut. Driving up his spine. Stirring something dark and familiar in his mindâarousal.
A second after that, something stiffened in his lap.
Just a little bit. âStiffâ was the key word there, not hardâJoel tried not to grow too excited while it seemed that his dick was filling with blood and the flesh was gradually getting firmer than it had been before. Still, he grinned.
He was back to kissing you, and youâd felt it too.
Your fingers wriggled on his chest. You started rocking back and forth, a bit more quickly now, and hummed.
You pulled away to catch your breath.
âDoes thatâŠhelp?â you murmured.
âWhat?â
âMyâŠwhen I rubâ here?â
You were trying so hard to help. You mustâve had no clue itâd been two utterances of âI love youâ from your lips that had stoked the fire within him. The friction helped, no doubt, but it was you and what you felt that made it happenâgot him harder. Joelâs grin stretched bigger.
âSweetheart, itâsââ
ââCause we can switch it up a little. I bet variety helps.â Suddenly, you were leaning back and lifting your hips. You gripped the base of him, now almost upright between your body and his, and started stroking him.
That felt good.
That felt really good.
But anything from you was bound to feel like that.
Joelâs smile wavered momentarily as another jolt of pleasure coursed through him. He couldnât control the reflex; his hips bucked up from the mattress, and in your hold, the head of his cock bumped right against your clit.
You whimpered.
Your slit was all but dripping with heat. Ready for him.
âGoddamn,â Joel grit out, eyes fixed on that spot.
âJerk your cock against me, daddy.â
His gaze shot up.
âYeah, baby?â
The man scarcely knew what it was that he was doing in the moment, or how this might please youâall he wanted was to follow what youâd told him to do.
He nodded dumbly. Grabbed the base of his partly-erect dick and guided the tip to your clit again. He rubbed it.
Your head dropped back on a strangled-sounding moan. Joel rubbed harderâfaster, to match the rhythm of your hipsâand his own lips parted, betraying a look of awe.
You were writhing above him, reveling in the sensation.
Joel blinked, and he completely forgot his predicament. He dismissed from his mind that slight, inconsequential matter of not being able to get himself hard, and he flipped you. Your body fell prone on the bed beneath him.
And, focused on his pleasure as you were, you mightâve protested. Joel was quick to cut it off when he rolled you onto your side and wedged a leg between your knees.
âOpen for me,â he murmured beside your ear.
You whined, âJo-el,â weakly, but obliged.
âDaddy, itâs supposed to be for yââ
Your last words splintered off. Joel was pushing his dick between your thighsâdrenched as both the insides of your legs and his length happened to be, it was easyâand he slid it back and forth. He sawed his half-hard cock like he was fucking you from the inside out, and your answering moan was enough to show him that you liked it. Your head tilted back, against his shoulder, and Joel increased the speed of his thrusts. He smirked.
âThis is for me, baby,â he assured you quietly.
Then, he notched his tip at your entrance.
âAnd thisâŠis for you,â he finished.
Just as your moan morphed into a whine once again, he was pushing inâno more than an inch, but inâand his own breath caught. Joel groaned at the warmth and the wetness, the sheer stricture of your cunt that seized his length like a fist. Your walls pulsed at the feeling. You leaked around that one intruding inch and reached behind you to grip Joelâs neck. You cursed softly.
âShit, daddy. Heâsâ heâs in me.â Half-disbelief.
âThatâs right. Ainât that where he belongs?â
You didnât have to answer that. You simply lifted one leg higher and let him rut in deeper. You fisted the hair at the nape of his neck, and you tilted your hips to him. You soaked him in warmth. Though he didnât have a full view of your expression from behind, Joel could see that your jaw was hanging slack and your lids were heavyâthe eyes rolled back at a third stab of his hips. He fucked in.
Joel still wasnât fully hard. That was just another part of being old, and he was done pretending like he wasnât the age he was. You didnât mind the age he was. If the noises bubbling up in your throat, the wet squelch of your cunt every time he drove home, and the grip on his neck, the gentle, âOh, daddy, like thatâ wasnât proof enough of how much you liked it, the tremors in your legs certainly were.
They were slight. Joel knew what they signified, though.
With three inches wedged inside you, he leaned down.
âIs my sweet girl ready to cum?â he pressed gently.
You bit your bottom lip once before whimpering:
âIâ I wanna get you hard first, daddy. Please.â
It was like you needed it. That urge to put him first was unyielding, even in a condition like this, and Joel wanted nothing more than to sate the desire. He also wanted to give you the orgasm you deserved, so he ground himself into your ass. He withdrew to the tip, kissed the warm, sensitive spot behind your ear, then plunged back in.
You convulsed around him.
âThatâs it,â Joel went on. His mouth was so close to your skin you were no doubt feeling the grit of his stubble with every word he spoke. He hoped you didnât mind it.
âThatâs a good girl. Daddyâs nearly there. Let the sweet feelinâ in, and I promise Iâll be right behind ya, honey.â
âYouâ youâll be hard? Youâll get to finish, too?â
âGivinâ ya ropes anâ ropes of the stuff, sweet pea. Enough to flood your tummy with it. JustâŠgimme oneâŠgoodâŠâ
âOh!â
You let out a cry when he drove in deep.
He wasnât even sure how he did it; his cock just throbbed and pulsed and pushed through your heat like this was right where he needed to be. He pressed in to the hilt, felt his tip kiss somewhere close your cervix, and that was when it happened again. You clawed at his neck.
You raked your nails down harder and shrieked.
âOh, fuck, Joel, fuck, fuck, fuckâI love you!â
And that was enough for him, too.
In all the decades of life Joel Miller had lived, he couldnât recall a single time he wasnât fully hard and able to cum. But here he was. As soon as you finished, he filled you up like it was nothing. It had to have been the intonation of those words, or else your fingers threading through his hair, pulling tight, and gushing your release all over his cock that helped him get there. Every last sign that you were his, that you loved him, pushed him over the edge.
He was mumbling the same into your skin with each hot, pulsing jet of his seed. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and nearly whimpered. He couldnât help it.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Like a broken refrain, he kept grunting, thrusting, and pushing his cum as deep into your cunt as your body would allow it, and when he was spent, he kept going.
âI love you, Joel.â
You whispered it again. You hardly couldâve expected the effect it would have as soon as the words left your lips.
Joel wasnât exactly prepared for it, either.
As tired as he was, as old as he was, he hadnât thought it was even possible. But for the second time that morning, he found himself proven wrong. He let out a soft groan.
And, buried eight inches deep, drenched to the hilt in his own pleasure and yours, Joel felt itâhe was finally hard.
His cock was swollen to full capacity, while his balls had just emptied themselves dry. Your bodies were drained.
Faintly, he caught wind of a laugh.
It rumbled through your ribcage and made its way to his. Joel dropped his head to your shoulder, grinning, because of course he got a boner right then.
âDown to run it back after work, old man?â
Joel chuckled. He glanced at the clock.
Leave in five minutes or youâll be late.
He shrugged and pulled you closer.
âI think Iâd better just call in sick.â
now imagine a follow-up crackfic where joel buys those gas station boner pills for funsies and gets hard as SHIT for fourteen hours and fucks you through every minute of it


((apparently any erection that lasts over four hours warrants a trip to the ER but letâs just pretend))
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
YES. THANK U LIV
masterlist
( * indicates smut. 18+ only.)
.Ă·:*ĂÂšĂ ÂŒÂș Ă ÂŒÂ»Ăš*:Ă·..Ă·:*ĂÂšĂ ÂŒÂș Ă ÂŒÂ»Ăš*:Ă·..Ă·:*ĂÂšĂ ÂŒÂș Ă ÂŒÂ»Ăš*:Ă·..Ă·:
Keep reading
#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x reader smut#din djarin smut#din djarin x reader#din djarin fluff#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader smut#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian smut#javier pena smut#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javier pena x you
846 notes
·
View notes
Text
OOOOOOH TBR TBR TBRRRR

dirty work
You just bought a new house that needed a lot of work. Luckily, your grumpy old neighbor was more than happy to fix everythingânot because he was generous, but because it gave him an excuse to be close. To look. To stare. And you? Love the attention.
Warnings: MDNI, 18+, hotgirl!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, filthy dirty talk, desperate!Joel, pervy!Joel, pathetic!Joel, age gap, Joel being down bad, obsessive staring, possessiveness, mild power play, teasing, so much cum (like he literally canât stop), Joel not having sex in decades and it shows, Hot girl reader knowing she's hot, Joel being completely ruined by your pussy, and you loving every second of it
11k. Enjoy!
· · âââââââââââđ„žââââââââââ· ··
The house needed work. And probably a priest.
It wasnât falling apart, but it also wasnât move-in ready.
The kitchen faucet screamed whenever you turned it on, wailing like it had unfinished business in this world. The porch stairs were one strong gust away from sending someone straight to the ER- or the grave.Â
The back gate swung open on its own, which was either a poltergeist or just bad hinges, but either way, it sent an unsettling creak through the yard at odd hours of the night.
The lights flickered sometimes. The water pressure was unpredictable. The floors creaked loud enough to make you think twice before sneaking around in the dark.
But it was cheap. And it had potential.
And you?
You werenât a DIY girlie, but you could figure shit out. ProbablyâŠ. Maybe.Â
You did have a certain level of misplaced confidence that made you think you could tackle anything with enough trial and error.
The problem wasâso far, it had been mostly errors.
Your first attempt at fixing the faucet resulted in a flood that had you sprinting to turn the water off before your kitchen turned into a slip-and-slide.
Trying to replace a light fixture nearly ended with you electrocuting yourself into another dimension.Â
And the less said about the unfortunate caulking incident of last Thursday, the better.
Still, you were determined. A little clueless? Sure. But determined.
You wiped sweat from your brow, standing in front of your latest challenge: the front door. It didnât latch properly. It wasnât quite crooked, but something was off. The hinges, maybe? You had no idea.Â
You just knew that a strong wind could blow the damn thing off, which wasnât ideal for your safety or your sanity.
So there you were, kneeling on the porch, staring at a pile of tools you werenât entirely sure how to use, the manual open beside you like it was about to offer some divine intervention.
You twisted the screwdriver in your hand, frowning at the misaligned screws. âAlright, bitch,â you muttered to the door, rolling your shoulders. âLetâs do this.â
And that was when a shadow fell over you.
A heavy presence.
You turned, blinking up at the broad figure standing at the foot of your porch.
Joel Miller.
Your neighbor. Big, built, silent as the grave. Old as fuck.
Youâd seen him aroundâon his porch, smoking, reading the newspaper, doing old people things and watching. Always watching.
Never introduced himself. Never waved. Never made an effort. Just sat there, arms crossed over his chest, eyes unreadable, watching the world pass him by.
Watching you.
At first, you thought it was your imagination. A trick of the heat, the way his dark eyes always seemed to linger just a little too long before darting away. But then, as the weeks passed, you realized it wasnât just some coincidence.
Joel Miller was looking. A lot.
From behind the safety of his porch, through his truck window when he pulled into the driveway, stealing glances while pretending to tinker with something outsideâhe was always looking.
He wasnât the type to catcall or whistle or let his jaw drop like some dumb, desperate idiot. No, but he did openly watch, with that brooding, set-jaw expression, like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, fighting the urge to jump.
A man seeing something he wantedâsomething he knew he couldnât have.
And, honestly? It was kinda hot.
You love a pathetic man.
Pathetic in the way only a man like him could be- big and strong and old enough to know better, yet still sitting on his porch like some clueless teenager, hopelessly caught in your orbit.
Joel had spent his entire life working.
Calloused hands. Aching back. A routine as grey and dull as the pavement he walked on. He wasnât a talk-to-women kind of guy. He was a build-shit-and-keep-his-mouth-shut kind of guy.
He had probably spent years without even thinking about sex. Not because he didnât want itâfuck, of course, he didâbut because who the hell would even let him?
The man was a relic.
Pushing sixty. Grumpy. Built like a man who had done nothing but work his whole lifeâbecause thatâs exactly what he had done.
No wife. No girlfriend. Nothing.
He didnât flirt. Didnât go out. Didnât fucking bother.
Just work, fix, sleep. Get off when he needed toâalways alone, always quick, no one to fucking hear him.
That was life.
And then you moved in next door.
And Joel broke.
Because Jesus Christ.
You.
Soft and sweet and fucking perfectâso young, so pretty, so effortlessly sexy.
You werenât just beautiful. You were something else entirely.
Something cruel.
With your tiny little skirts and tight little tops, walking around like it wasnât a goddamn crime to be that fucking perfect.
Joel shouldnât have been looking.
Knew he shouldnât memorize the way your tits bounced when you jogged past his house.
Shouldnât have let himself watch the way you stretched on the porch, or walked in those obscene little shorts, or sunbathed out back with your top straps pulled downâlooking so fucking soft, like you were made to be touched.
Made to be ruined.
It was sick.
And he didnât care.
Because at night, when his house was quiet and the only thing in his bed was his own hand, Joel let himself imagine what it would be like to pull you onto his lap or spread you open, bury his face between your thighs and never fucking leave.
To get his mouth on you.
God, he was so hungry for it.
And the worst part?
He was pretty sure you knew.
It was pathetic.
And he fucking knew it.
But he couldnât stop.
And right now, his gaze was locked on you.
Or, more accuratelyâyour thighs.
You were still kneeling, skin glistening in the summer heat, your tiny skirt barely covering anything. Joel looked like a man who had just seen God.
His throat bobbed.
His fingers flexed.
Then, abruptlyâhis eyes snapped up.
âNeed a hand?â His voice was rough, all gravel and rust.
You tilted your head, dragging your gaze over him.
You smirked.
âI got it,â you said simply.
Joel didnât move.
Didnât even blink.
ââŠNo, you donât.â
And before you could argue, he was stepping forward.
Taking the screwdriver right out of your hand.
And just fucking fixing it.
Like it was nothing.
Like you werenât even there.
· · ââđ„ž
From that day on, Joel⊠kinda never left.
Not literally. Not in a way that you could call him out on.
But he was always there.
At first, it was little things. Fixing what you couldnât. Offering a hand when you were clearly struggling. Showing up at the exact right time, tools in hand, that furrow between his brows like youâd personally offended him by even attempting to fix something yourself.
Then, it escalated.
Because you didnât even have to ask anymore.
He was just there.
On your porch. In your yard. Pretending to check something in his truck but really just looking at you while you stretched in the morning, your tight little tank clinging to every inch of you.
The excuses started getting thinner, too.
At first, it was, âSaw the porch light flickerinâ. Just figured Iâd fix it before it got worse.â
Then, it became, âJust keepinâ busy.â
Then, no excuse at all.
Just Joel, lingering around your property, finding any reason to be near you, any reason to work himself into a sweat just for the chance to look at you up close.
Because that was his payment.
His reward.
Every little smile, every little laugh. The way your tits moved when you pointed at something needed fixing. The way you stretched just right, your little skirts and shorts riding up, flashing soft, smooth skin that made Joelâs head spin.
He didnât even need you to talk to him.
Didnât need you to flirt.
Just existing was enough.
So he worked.
For free.
Because what the fuck else was he supposed to do?
You made him feel like some pathetic old pervert.
Standing around like a useless extra in the movie that was your perfect fucking life.
A washed-up, near-sixty-year-old loser with a bad back, a lonely house, and a dick that hadnât worked properly in years.
And now?
Now, he nearly was hard all the time.
No blue pills. No coaxing. No thinking about some old porn magazine he had tucked away for emergencies.
Just your voice, your body, the way you smelled, the way you looked at him when you handed him a lemonade like he was doing something specialâwhen all he was doing was fixing your fucking sink.
And the worst part?
He was leaking.
Like a damn teenager.
Hadnât been this sensitive in decades.
And yet, here he wasâbarely keeping it together, feeling the way his cock throbbed and ached, fucking dripped inside his jeans while you leaned in, smiling, teasingâ
âThank you, Joel!â
Fuck.
That voice.
All sweet and grateful and warm, and it was fucking nothing. Just three little words.
And yet, his whole body reacted like you had just whispered something filthy in his ear.
Like you had just gotten on your knees, licked your lips, and told him
Sit back, Joel. Let me take care of you.
God, he was fucked.
So he mowed your lawn.
Fixed your AC unit.
Made sure the fence was latched, the gate was locked, the pipes werenât leakinâ.
And when he wasnât fixing shit inside?
He was finding things to do outside.
Hammering shit that didnât need hammering.
Cleaning tools that werenât even his.
Anything. Anything.
Just to be there.
· · ââđ„ž
Joel looked wrecked.
Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt, his broad shoulders sagging as he finally took a seat at the kitchen table he had just fixed for you.
His hands were rough and calloused, veins prominent, fingers flexing against the cool surface as he exhaled, deep and slow. He looked exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that clung to a man who had spent the whole day pushing his body to the limit.
And yet, even now, after hours of working himself to the bone, he was still staring.
Not at the food youâd set down in front of him, not at the cold glass of iced tea dripping condensation onto the table, not even at his own aching hands that had spent all damn day making sure every little thing in your house was perfect.
He was staring at your tits.
You noticed it immediately, of course. How could you not? Joel wasnât exactly subtle.
His dark, hungry gaze stayed fixed on your chest, drinking in the way your tank top clung to you, damp with heat, the fabric just a little too thin, a little too low. His hands twitched every so often, like he had to physically stop himself from reaching out.
He barely responded when you spoke, offering little more than a grunt here and there, a slow nod, an occasional hum of acknowledgment. Not because he wasnât listening, but because he was completely fucking gone.
And you?
You smirked.
Because this wasnât new.
Joel Miller had been looking at you like this for weeks now, like a starving man watching a meal just out of reach, a man standing in the desert watching water slip through his fingers.
And he thought he was hiding it.
He wasnât.
You leaned forward slightly, trailing a finger through the condensation on your glass, watching his Adamâs apple bob when his eyes immediately flicked down again, drawn like a magnet.
You waited. Let it stew. Let the tension stretch thick and heavy between you until you could practically hear the way he was grinding his teeth together, working his jaw, trying to think of somethingâanythingâother than the way your tits were right there.
Then, casually, you spoke.
âYouâre not exactly subtle, you know.â
Joel didnât move at first.
Didnât even seem to register your words right away.
Just blinked, slow and dazed, before finally dragging his gaze back up to your face, blinking again, like he had just been pulled out of something deep.
ââŠHuh?â
His voice was thick, rough like gravel, his fingers flexing again before clenching into loose fists.
You tilted your head slightly, letting your gaze flick down to your own chest, then back up to him, pointedly.
âYou like âem?â
For a moment, Joel just sat there.
Silent.
Completely fucking still.
Then, finally, he exhaled. A slow, measured breath, dragging a hand down his face like he was collecting himself, trying to piece together a response that didnât immediately give him away.
And then, voice lower, rougher, wreckedâ
ââŠWhatâs there not to like?â
Oh?
That shouldnât have affected you the way it did.
But it did.
The way he said it, low and warm and dripping with something dark, something dangerous. The way he looked at you when he said it, like he was memorizing every inch of you, like he needed to burn the sight into his brain.
A slow heat unfurled low in your belly, sinking between your thighs, pooling thick and molten as you shifted in your seat, pressing your legs together, suddenly very aware of how wet you were getting.
And Joel knew it.
Because his eyes flicked down for a split second, watching the way you shifted, the way your breath caught ever so slightly, and his fingers clenched tighter against the table.
And then, voice slow, teasing, stretching out the momentâ
âHmmm.â
You tapped a finger against your chin, watching the way his dark eyes tracked your movements, like he couldnât help it, like he had no control over the way his body responded to you.
And then, soft and syrupyâ
âYou know, Joel⊠I feel kinda bad.â
Joel didnât move.
Didnât blink.
Didnât breathe.
Just stared.
You watched the slow, deliberate way he swallowed, the way his whole body seemed to tense under the weight of those words, the muscles in his arms flexing as his fingers curled against the table.
ââŠBad?â
His voice was barely above a whisper.
âFor letting you do all this work without paying you back.â
There was a beat of silence.
Joelâs fingers flexed. His breath stuttered, sharp and uneven. You could see the battle happening in his headâhis morals, his age, the voice in his head screaming this is wrong, youâre too old, donât do thisâ
And yet.
When he spoke, it was wrecked.
ââŠCan I justââ
Joel swallowed hard.
His voice dropped lower, raspier, barely even a sound.
âCan I just see you? Look at you?â
The words sent a jolt of something electric through you, made your skin heat, your pulse quicken, made that molten heat in your belly throb.
You smiled. Slow. Sweet.
Cruel.
"You wanna see me, Joel?"
His breath hitched.
His fingers twitched.
He nodded, almost absently, his mouth falling open, chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths.
You dragged your nails lightly up your stomach, over your ribs, the movement subtle, slow, making him watch.
Your hands went to the hem of your tank top, your fingers curling around the fabric, slowly dragging it up.
Joelâs pupils blew wide.
His lips parted.
His breath hitched.
And when you pulled it over your head, letting it drop to the floor, you saw it.
The way his fingers clenched so hard around the edge of the table that his knuckles went white, like he needed to physically hold himself back.
You sat there in just your bra, running your hands up your stomach, over your ribs, tilting your head slightly as you murmuredâ
âLike this?â
Joel made a noise that was almost a groan, almost a curse, a low, strangled thing that caught in his throat as his eyes devoured you.
He swallowed again, hard, blinking like he was trying to process what was happening.
Thenârough, hoarse, desperateâ
ââŠPlease. Everything.â
So you did.
You reached behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra with a slow, deliberate flick of your fingers, letting the straps slip down your arms before shrugging it off completely.
And Joel lost the last shred of restraint he had.
His breath hitchedâa sharp, audible inhale, like he had just been punched in the gut.
His eyes dropped from your eyes instantly, dragged down like they had no choice, like the second your tits were bare, he was physically incapable of looking anywhere else.
And fuck.
The sound that tore from his throat was something low, deep, filthyâ not even a real word, just a groan, guttural and needy, his lips parting, his tongue darting out, his whole fucking body reacting like he was a man who had been starving his whole goddamn life, and now?
Now he was looking at the best fucking meal heâd ever seen.
Because Jesus Christ.
Your tits?
They were perfect.
So fucking full and soft, high and round, plump little handfuls of heaven that heâd been imagining for weeks, and now? Now they were right there.
And your nipplesâfuck.
They were already hard, tight little peaks sitting pretty, puckered and aching, begging for somethingâa touch, a mouth, something wet and warm.
They looked so fucking sweet, like theyâd feel so soft, like theyâd taste so good on his tongue.
Joel groaned.
A rough, heavy sound, his jaw clenching so fucking hard it was a miracle his teeth didnât crack, his entire body tensing like it physically hurt him to just sit there and look and not touch.
And then, voice wrecked, strained, barely even a whisperâ
âBest goddamn tits Iâve ever seen.â
You smirked, slow and teasing, shifting slightly, making them bounce just a little, the movement so subtle, but his whole body jerked.
âYeah?â
Joel grunted, a deep, broken noise, his breath stuttering, his fingers flexing.
âYeah.â
His lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths.
His hips shifted.
And you noticed.
The way his jeans were tight.
The way a wet patch darkened the denim.
The way his entire body looked like it was straining under the weight of his own need.
And then, voice breaking, groaningâ
âThank you, Sweetheart.â
Your breath caught.
Because that?
That sounded filthy.
Low, wrecked, grateful.
Like just seeing you was some kind of mercy.
His thighs tensed. His hands twitched. His eyes stayed locked on you, burning, devouring, drowning.
You dragged your hands up your own stomach, slow and lazy, brushing your fingers over the soft curves of your breasts, rolling your thumbs over your hardened nipples, smirking when you heard his breath hitch.
âYou wanna touch âem, Joel?â you murmured, soft and syrupy, voice dipped in honey.
Joel groaned, deep and guttural, like the question alone was enough to wreck him.
âFuck yeah.â
He didnât wait for permission.
Didnât hesitate.
Didnât fucking think.
His hands were on you before the words even fully left his mouthâgrabbing, groping, squeezing like he was starving for it, like heâd been fantasizing about this for so long that the second he finally had them in his palms, he lost every ounce of restraint.
And Jesus fuck, his hands were big.
Rough.
Strong.
Decades of hard labor carved into every thick callus, every flex of his fingers, every hungry, greedy, desperate grab.
âFuck, babygirl,â he muttered, voice wrecked, almost dazed as he kneaded your tits, rolling them in his palms, squeezing like he needed to memorize the way they feltâlike heâd never get this chance again.
He groaned, deep and filthy, fingers digging in, rough fingertips brushing over your stiff nipples, making you suck in a sharp breath as heat licked through your veins.
âSo fuckinâ soft,â he rasped, thumbing over the tight little peaks, watching the way your body reacted to him, your back arching, breath hitching.
Joel felt that.
âFeel good, baby?â he rasped, voice a low, guttural thing, dragging his calloused fingers over your nipples again, rubbing slow, deliberate circles, watching your reaction like a starving man watching a meal.
You swallowed hard, a shiver running through you, your thighs pressing together. Fuck.
Your nipples were so sensitive, tingling with every swipe, every flick, every dirty little touch of his rough fingers.
âYeah,â you breathed, biting your lip, arching into his touch, letting him take what he wanted.
Joel groaned again, deep and needy, gripping your tits harder, pushing them together, squeezing, kneading, fucking obsessed.
His thumbs twisted your nipples, slow and deliberate, watching the way they hardened even further, standing up all soft and pink, looking so fucking suckable.
âJesus,â he muttered again, voice dropping lower, rougher. âLook at these pretty tits.â
His fingers pinched, tugged, twisted just rightâjust enough to make you gasp, a soft little sound that sent a lightning bolt of pure fucking need straight to his cock.
He grinned.
A dark, hungry thing.
And then, voice gritted, thick with lustâ
âBet they taste even better.â
âCan I-â
Before he could even finish asking, you were already shushing him, already threading your fingers into his graying hair and pulling his face down, guiding him straight to where he belonged.
Joel went willingly.
Mouth first.
No hesitation. No second-guessing.
Joel yanked you into his lap, gripping you like you might disappear, like this was a dream heâd wake up from if he let go for even a second.
His knees ached against the floor, his back twinged in warning, but he didnât give a fuck. Not when you were straddling him, warm and soft, tits in his face like some fucking gift from God.
His mouth sealed over your nipple, pulling at it with an obscene, wet suckle, tongue flattening before flicking, rolling, teasing the sensitive bud until it was aching, stiff, raw.
Just a wrecked, filthy groan, muffled against your soft, warm skin as he was sucking deep, sucking hard, sucking wet.
âFuck yes,â he moaned into your skin, voice ragged, his breath hot and heavy against your breast.
He was loud.
Not in wordsâbecause words didnât matter anymore.
But in the way he suckled, the way his lips sealed tight, how he groaned and slurped and moaned, every single sound of his mouth on you wet and obscene, filling the space around you.
His tongue swiped up, then down, then circledâslow at first, then faster, flicking against the stiff bud before pulling it into his mouth again, sealing his lips tight, sucking deep.
He couldnât stop.
Didnât even try.
His hands moved next, big, calloused fingers gripping your waist, dragging you closer, then sliding up to cup both tits in his palms, rough and desperate.Â
âOhâfuck, Joelââ your breath hitched, the sharp pull of his mouth sending a jolt straight between your thighs.
He groanedâdeep, guttural, filthy.
âGoddamn, babyââ
Then, harder.
His fingers squeezed tighter, thumbs brushing over your nipples, pinching the one he wasnât sucking on, rolling it between his fingertips, tugging just enough to make you gasp.
You felt his breath stutterâlike he was about to lose it completelyâbefore he pulled off with a wet, sucking pop, spit connecting his lips to your nipple, slick and shining.
He stared.
Breathing ragged. Eyes dark, starving.
And then he dived right back in.
Latching onto the other like a man possessed, groaning into it like he was trying to drink from you, ruin you, consume you.
His hands never stopped.
He hugged you closer, pulling you right into him, pressing your tits together, mashing them up against his face, smothering himself in them.
âSo fuckinâ soft, babyââ he rasped, licking, suckling, tongue dragging slow circles around your nipple before he sealed his lips and sucked deep again.
âSo fuckinâ sweetââ
He switched between them like he couldnât pick a favorite, couldnât decide, couldnât stop.
His tongue flicked, his lips sucked, his teeth grazed, sending shocks of pleasure straight between your legs.
Your breath hitched.
Your back arched.
Because he wasnât just playing around.
This wasnât just teasing.
This wasnât some guy mouthing at your tits before moving on.
No.
Joel was staying here.
Lingering.
Drowning in it.
Like he could suckle your tits for hours.
And then, voice low, gravelly, wreckedâ
âBabyâŠâ
You hummed, already smirking.
He swallowed thickly, his fingers tracing absent circles against your ribs, his voice barely above a whisperâ
âLemme see you.â
Your smirk widened.
âSee what, Joel?â
He groaned, head dropping against your shoulder for half a second like he physically needed to collect himself. His nose brushed along your jaw, leaving small kisses, hot breath fanning against your skin, and thenâ
âSweetheart, please,â he rasped. âLemme see that pretty little pussy.â
Your stomach tightened, heat flaring low, but you didnât let it show. Not yet.
Instead, you stretched, slow and indulgent, arching just slightly, your tits pushing up against his chest. âHmmm,â you mused, tapping a manicured nail against your lip like you were actually considering it. âYou worked so hard for me, didn't you, Joel?â
His jaw flexed. His hands slid down, gripping your thighs, squeezing.
âCâmon, pretty girl,â he rasped. âDonât tease me like this.â
You tilted your head, tapping your chin, dragging it out just a little longerâwatching the way his fingers twitched, watching the way his pupils were blown black with hunger, watching the way his hips barely resisted the urge to rut up against you like he needed something, anything.
Then, finally, you sighed.
âAlright, old man,â you murmured, shifting in his lap, the movement making him groan. âTake me to the couch.â
Joel nearly fucking growled.
His arms came around you instantly, strong, needy, hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you. Not struggling, not even hesitatingâbecause fuck if you thought he was too old for this, fuck if you thought he wouldnât show you exactly what he could do.
He laid you down like you were something delicate, something precious, his hands sliding over your body, down your sides, gripping your thighs, spreading you open just enough.
And thenâhis fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt.
Not pulling it down.
Just flipping it up.
Joel wasnât breathing.
At least, it felt that way.
He couldnât. Not with the way you were spread out in front of him, thighs parted, panties soaked, looking like the filthiest, prettiest fucking thing heâd ever seen in his goddamn life.
And the worst part?
You knew exactly what you were doing to him.
The way you stretched lazily, arching just a little, making your tits push forward. The way your lips curled in that slow, knowing smirk when you caught him staring, like you were indulging him, letting him look, letting him take in every fucking inch of you.
And JoelâJoel was gone.
His hands slid up your thighs, slow, reverent, rough fingertips dragging against soft skin, feeling the heat radiating off you.
âJesus fuck,â he muttered, his voice low, dark, almost reverent.
Joel dragged his tongue over his bottom lip, gaze locked on the damp spot between your legs, so fucking dark, so fucking pretty.
His thumbs traced along the edges of your panties, brushing just barely over the damp patch at the center, groaning when he felt the way it stuck to you.
âSo goddamn wet,â he murmured, almost to himself, shaking his head, his fingers flexing against your skin. âBeen like this all night, little girl?â
You moaned, shifting slightly, watching the way his jaw clenched at the movement.
âMaybe,â you teased. âNot my fault youâve been looking at me like that all day.â
Joel exhaled sharply, a low, ragged sound, his grip tightening.
Poor old man.
He was completely fucking gone.
âSee something you like?â you teased, voice sweet, syrupy, making his jaw clench.
Joel exhaled through his nose, hands tightening where they rested on your thighs, fingers pressing in deep, like he needed to hold onto something, ground himself before he completely lost control.
âBaby,â he muttered, shaking his head, voice low and rough, thick with something desperate. âYouâre fuckinâ evil.â
You laughed, slow and taunting, your nails dragging up the couch, watching the way his entire body tensed, like he was on the verge of snapping, like he was barely holding himself together.
âAm I?â you mused, tilting your head, watching him watch you.
Joel groaned, deep and guttural, his grip bruising now, his breath shuddering, his hips twitching like just the words alone were enough to ruin him.
And thenâ
He leaned in.
Pressed his face against your covered cunt, breathing deep, dragging his nose over the soaked fabric, his entire body shuddering, shaking, gripping you like you might disappear if he let go.
And fuck.
He moaned.
You smirked. Moaned.
Because you knew.
Knew exactly what kind of power you had over him. Knew that Joel Millerâthis gruff, brooding old man who barely spoke to anyone, whoâd spent his life working, fixing, existingâwas utterly wrecked over you.
And right now, he was on his knees, rubbing his face against your soaked panties, inhaling like the scent of your cunt was the only thing keeping him alive.
You loved it.
âMm, you really like it down there, huh?â You moaned dragging your nails through his hair, watching the way his whole body twitched, the way he groaned against you, his nose pressing harder into the damp fabric covering your pussy.
Joel barely lifted his head, just enough to look at you, eyes so dark they were nearly black, lips slick with his own spit. His fingers flexed against your thighs like he was fighting himselfâlike he wanted to tear those panties off and bury himself in you, but he was holding back.
Barely.
âLike?â he rasped, voice wrecked. His tongue darted out, swiping over his bottom lip, like he was tasting the scent of you in the air.
He groaned.
âPretty girl, Iâm fuckinâ obsessed.â
You moaned. Tilting your hips just slightly, pressing up into his face, watching the way his eyes fluttered, the way his breath stuttered like just feeling your heat against his lips was too much.
âOh yeah?â Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging. âThen show me.â
Joel didnât hesitate.
Didnât think.
Didnât breathe.
He just acted.
His hands shot up, gripping the waistband of your panties, and for a second, you thought he was going to rip them off you. But noâJoel was feeling something nastier.
Instead, he grabbed the soaked fabric, pulled it tight against your cunt, wedging it between your slick folds, pressing the thin material right into your aching clit.
You gasped.
âOhhh, fuckââ
Joel groaned, a deep, filthy sound from the pit of his chest as he rubbed the fabric against you, slow at first, then harder, pressing it between your lips, letting the damp, sticky material drag over your throbbing clit.
His nose dragged over the outline of your swollen pussy, mouth parted, tongue slipping out to taste the wet spot directly over your entrance, groaning like it was the best thing heâd ever fucking put in his mouth.
âJesus fuck,â he growled. âSâsoaked, girl. Look at this fuckinâ mess. You see this?â He rubbed the fabric in deeper, groaning at the way it stuck to your folds, the way your slick smeared against it, making it wetter, stickier.
You moaned, hips rolling, pushing against his mouth, chasing the friction.
âJoelââ
He growled again, gripping your thighs tight, keeping you spread as he bit down gently on the covered part of your clit, tugging with his teeth, rolling it between them through the fabric.
You gasped.
Your back arched, hands flying to the couch, gripping the cushions for some kind of grounding becauseâholy fuck.
Joel chuckled. Chuckled. A deep, perverse sound.
âOhh, you like that, hm?â
He pressed his tongue flat against your clit through your panties, sucking at the damp fabric, like he was trying to drink you through it, humming like he could taste you, even with the barrier in the way.
Thenâ
His teeth latched onto the thin cotton, gripping the wet spot over your entrance, and he pulled.
A sharp, precise tug.
Dragging the panties against your cunt, making them slide against your soaked folds, pressing them deeper, wedging them between your swollen lips, rubbing everything.
You fucking whimpered.
Joel moaned against you, rutting his hips against the couch, pressing his nose right against your slit, inhaling, sucking, rubbing his face all over your cunt like a man starved.
âGoddamn,â he muttered, nuzzling you, his voice dripping with filth. âPussyâs so fuckinâ warm, baby. So fuckinâ messy. Leakinâ all over these little pantiesâbet theyâre ruined, huh?â
Your thighs shook. Your breath stuttered.
Your fingers curled tight in his hair, tugging, and he moaned again, loud, tongue slipping out to drag slow, wet strokes over the damp fabric, gathering everything before pressing it back against your cunt, making you feel how fucking messy you were.
His handsâthose big, rough, work-worn handsâslid up your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open, thumbs pressing into your soft skin as he finally, finally hooked his fingers into your panties and peeled them off.
He groaned when they stuck.
When your slick clung to the fabric.
When he had to drag them down your legs because they were soaked.
And thenâ
You were bare.
Wet.
Dripping.
All for him.
Joel sat back on his heels, staring.
His fingers flexed, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring.
âJesus Christ,â he muttered, shaking his head, voice deep and wrecked.
Then, dark eyes flicking up to yours, a slow, filthy grin stretching across his faceâ
âOh, babyâŠâ He groaned.
âIâm gonna ruin you.â
His voice was a wreck, almost a whisper, full of awe, full of filth, full of something desperate and hungry.
Because you were fucking perfect.
Your pussy was obscene.
Pink and swollen and glistening, folds spread, sticky and slick, so wet you were practically dripping onto the couch.Â
Your clitâpuffy, throbbingâbegging for attention, twitching every time Joelâs hot breath ghosted over you.Â
The dim light caught on the shine of your arousal, making everything look impossibly wet, messy, fucking ruined.
And Joel?
Joel was losing his goddamn mind.
His breath hitched, a low, wrecked groan ripping from his chest, his fingers flexing hard against your thighs, like he was physically restraining himself from lunging forward and devouring you whole.
âFuck me.â His voice came out rough, strangled, barely even a whisper. âLook at that messy little pussy. Sâso fuckinâ wet for me, baby.â
You hummed, stretching out against the couch like you had all the time in the world, arching just slightly making your tits look so good, making yourself even softer, even easier, even more of a temptation.
âYeah?â Your voice was all gasped, all teasing, your hips rolling up just a little, just enough to make the slick between your thighs glisten in the low light. âYou like her, Joel?â
His tongue darted out to wet his lips, jaw clenching, nostrils flaring, eyes blown dark and wide, locked on your cunt like it was hypnotizing him, pulling him under.
He let out a rough, humorless laugh, shaking his head, squeezing your thighs just a little tighter. âBaby, Iâll never let go of her.â
That smirk stretched slow across your lips, your thighs parting just a little more, an open invitation, a silent dare.
Joel groanedâdeep, guttural, painful.
And then he snapped.
His big, rough hands grabbed you, dragging you down the couch with no warning, tugging you toward him until your ass was hanging off the edge, his broad shoulders wedged between your thighs, his faceâhis mouthâright where he wanted it.
And thenâ
A long, wet, messy lick.
Tongue flat, broad, dragging over your slit, catching every drop of slick, lapping it up, his nose bumping against your mound, his groan muffled as he tasted you.
And Jesus fuckâhe growled.
âGoddamn, baby⊠this sloppy little pussy.â His voice was hot against your skin, his tongue flicking out to catch another drop of arousal, swallowing it down, his thumbs spreading you open even wider. âFuckinâ drippinâ all over my face.â
You whined, hips bucking, but Joelâs grip slammed you back down.
âUh-uh,â he rasped, dragging his tongue up again, circling your clit, teasing, groaning loud like he was tasting something sinful, something addictive, something he was never gonna get enough of.
His lips wrapped around the swollen bud, pulling it into his mouth, sucking, his tongue flicking, his nose buried against your mound, his face pressed so deep in your pussy he was fucking drowning.
And he loved it.
You were soaked.
Dripping.
And Joel wanted it.
Wanted every drop.
His tongue licked into you, fucking inside, groaning loud when he felt your walls clench, sucking your juices from his own tongue like he was drinking you, like you were feeding him.
And fuckâ
His hips rutted against the couch, grinding, his cock straining against his jeans, so fucking wet, his pre-cum soaking through, his whole body wound tight like he could come just like this, just from eating you, from tasting you, from hearing the little broken whimpers spilling from your lips.
His fingers dug in deeper, pressing into the softness of your thighs, spreading you wider, pulling you closer, burying his tongue so deep inside you it made your eyes roll back.
And thenâ
A rough, growled, wreckedâ
âGoddamn, baby. Gonna fuckinâ stay down here.â
Joel was gone.
Buried between your thighs, tongue fucking into you like a starving man, like this was what he was made to do.
And fuck, maybe he was.
Because he was too good at it.
You moaned, dragging a hand through his hair, pulling, loving the way he groaned, the way his hips rutted harder against the couch, the way he needed this.
âFuck, Joel,â you panted, voice thick with pleasure.
Joel growled.
He actually fucking growled, pulling you closer, spreading you wider, licking into you deeper, his tongue flicking, curling, sucking, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding himself back from humping the fucking couch like some desperate, pathetic thing.
And thenâ
Joel spat on it.
A wet, messy, lewd spit, right over your swollen clit.
And then?
He rubbed his face into it.
Like some depraved old pervert, moaning as he smothered himself with your slick, nuzzling into it, smearing his own spit and your arousal all over his lips, his chin, his nose .. damn nearly up to his forehead.Â
âJesus Christ,â he groaned, breath hot, words slurred against your swollen folds. âSmell so fuckinâ good, baby. Taste even fuckinâ better.â
His tongue swiped over your clit, broad and firm, lapping at it like he was fucking thirsty, groaning when he felt you pulse, when he felt your thighs tremble.
He spat on it again.
And smeared it in.
Dragged his tongue through the mess, licking his own spit off your cunt like he was cleaning you up.
And fuck.
It sent a shock of pleasure straight through your body, a sharp, hot jolt that made your back arch, your mouth dropping open in a broken moan.
âFuck, Joel,â you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair. âIâIâm gonnaââ
Joel knew.
Knew you were close, knew he had you teetering, knew you were about to fucking snap.
So he latched onto your clit, sucking, moaning, filthy and loud, his fingers bruising into your thighs, holding you open, keeping you still, forcing you to take it.
And when you cameâ
Oh, fuck, when you came.
Your body jerked, legs trembling, the orgasm hitting you so hard it stole the breath from your lungs, your vision going white, your whole body clenching around the pleasure, drowning in it.
And Joel?
Joel groaned.
Like he felt it.
Like your orgasm belonged to him.
Like he had just come from tasting you, from making you come, from hearing you cry out his name.
And he didnât stop.
Didnât fucking stop.
Kept licking. Kept sucking. Kept fucking devouring, his tongue flicking over your oversensitive clit, dragging out every last aftershock, keeping you on the edge, keeping you throbbing.
And youâ
You were shaking.
Body weak, legs useless, cunt aching for something more.
âJoel,â you gasped, breathless, still trembling. âIâI want your cock.â
And Joel?
He didnât hear you.
Didnât process it.
Because he was lost.
Lost in your pussy, lost in the taste, lost in the way you fucking shook for him.
His tongue dragged through the mess, lapping up every drop, swallowing you down like you were something precious, something he couldnât afford to waste.
So you tried again.
âJoel,â you panted, tugging at his hair, trying to get his attention. âI want yourââ
And he still didnât listen.
Just kept licking. Kept sucking. Kept moaning against your cunt like he was starved.
So you had to rip his face away.
Fisting your hands in his hair, pulling him back, making him look up at youâ
And fuck.
His face.
Wet. Slick. Lips swollen, chin shining, pupils blown.
And his mouthâ
His mouth was fucking open, his tongue still flicking like he was trying to find you, like he was looking for your pussy, like he was about to dive right back in.
He was panting, breath heavy, wrecked, like he had just fucked you, like he was the one who had just come.
And thenâ
A low, desperate, ruinedâ
âBaby, please.â
Like he needed it.
Like he needed to go back.
Like he wasnât done yet.
The smell of you. The taste of you. The way you squirmed and moaned, your fingers sinking into his hair, giving the softest little tugs that made his cock throb.
You hummed, dragging your nails lightly against his scalp. âYou gonna stay down there all night, handsome?â
Joel groaned against your thigh, his fingers tightening where they gripped your hips.
âWould if youâd let me,â he muttered, voice rough and muffled.
You laughed, breathy and teasing. âWellâŠâ You tugged gently at his hair, tilting his head back slightly, forcing him to look up at you. âMaybe I want something else tonight.â
Joelâs head spun.
His stomach clenched, heat coiling low, thick and heavy in his gut.
Because you couldnât possibly meanâ
âMaybe,â you mused, trailing your fingers down his face, smirking. âYou should fuck me instead.â
Joel went completely fucking still.
A full-body freeze.
Because, holy shit.
He hadnât even considered it.
He hadnât dared to.
Had been so caught up in thisâthis ritual, this worship, this sick fucking devotion of getting to lose himself between your thighs, mouth greedy and desperate, tongue messy and unrelentingâhe hadnât let himself imagine it going further.
Hadnât even let himself hope for it.
But now?
Now, you were looking at him with those big, bright eyes, your lips curled in something teasing and wicked, your fingers trailing down his chest, and fuck.
It hit him.
Like a fucking freight train.
He was gonna fuck you.
Joel groaned, his head falling forward against your stomach, breath heavy, body shaking as his hands gripped your thighs, squeezing so tight it bordered on bruising.
âJesus Christ,â he muttered, more to himself than you. âFuck. Baby.â
You grinned, delighted. âYeah?â
Joel swallowed, lifting his head, his gaze burning as he looked up at you.
âYeah.â
His voice was rough, wrecked.
âThen get up here, old man,â you purred, tugging at his shoulders. âCome fuck me.â
And, fuck, he was gonna.
Somehow, he managed to kneel between your legs, looming over you, broad and heavy and burning with something filthy and desperate.
Somehow, he managed to unbuckle his belt, yank his zipper down, pull himself freeâ
You hadnât expected this.
Hadnât expected him to be this thick.
Because, fuck me.
Joel Miller was fucking big.
The way his cock twitched the second the cool air hit it, sending a slow, heavy bead of precome dripping downâhot and sticky, landing right on your stomach.
God.
Your breath hitched, your thighs twitching where they were still spread open for him, aching.
And Joel?
He was just watching.
Watching that glistening drop smear against your skin, dragging his fist slow along his length, squeezing at the base, like he was trying to calm himself down.
Not that it was working.
Because he was dripping.
Leaking all over you, precum slick and thick, dribbling down the fat head of his cock, smearing over the tip as he worked himself, his jaw clenched tight, breathing heavy.
His cock wasâfuck.
Thick. So fucking thick.
Broad, heavy in his palm, his shaft veined and throbbing, dark with need, his swollen head gleaming wet under the dim light.
A thick trail of silver and black hair led down from his stomach, curling around the baseâgraying just like the rest of him, salt-and-pepper in a way that made your stomach tighten.
And his balls.
Heavy and full, hanging low, tight and aching with neglect, pulled up just slightly, like his body was already fighting to hold off the inevitable.
And JoelâJoel was losing his fucking mind.
Because fuck.
Your soft, pretty body sprawled out beneath him, tits still sticky from his mouth, your stomach slick with the mess he was dripping all over you, your thighs spread open, that sweet, soaked pussy waiting for himâhis cock.
He groaned, low and ruined, watching another thick bead of precum slip from the head, drooling down his shaft, slicking up his fingers.
He couldnât stop leaking.
Couldnât stop fucking twitching, pulsing in his own grip, so hard it was almost painful.
His body was betraying him.
Decades of needing, decades of nothing, and now?
Now he was about to lose it over just this.
Just you, looking up at him like that.
Smiling sweetly like you fucking knew.
Like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.
Joel groaned, watching your expression shift, watching your eyes flick down to where he was gripping himself, your lips parting just slightly, breath hitching.
And fuck, if that wasnât the hottest fucking thing heâd ever seen.
He smirked. Just a little.
âCâmon, sweetheart,â he rasped. âAinât gettinâ shy on me now, are ya?â
You dragged your gaze back up to his, grinning lazily, voice smooth and teasing. âNah, just thinking.â
Joel raised a brow, cocking his head. âYeah? âBout what?â
Your lips curled.
âHow the hell this thingâs gonna fit inside me.â
Joel growled.
A deep, guttural, feral fucking sound, his grip tightening around his cock, his other hand gripping your thigh, yanking you closer.
You giggled, delighted, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down, his body pressing heavy against yours, his cock resting hot and thick against your belly, pulsing.
He was panting.
You could feel it, the heat of his breath against your cheek, the slight tremble in his arms, the pure need radiating off him.
âYouâll take it,â he murmured, voice rough and low, dangerous in a way that made your stomach clench. âYouâll take all of it, baby. Ainât no way Iâm not givinâ you every goddamn inch.â
Fuck.
You whimpered.
And Joelâhe fucking felt it.
Felt the way you clenched around nothing, the way your thighs trembled, the way your nails dug into his shoulders.
Felt the way your body was begging for it.
âJoelâŠâ Your voice was thinner now, breathless.
He smirked.
âWhat, baby?â He pressed against your entrance, just barely, the thick head of his cock stretching you the tiniest bit before he pulled away again, teasing, watching the way your body tensed, the way your breath hitched. âYou were talkinâ so much before. What happened?â
You whined.
Louder this time.
And Joel groaned, dropping his forehead against yours, shaking his head.
âJesus,â he murmured. âYouâre so fuckinâ spoiled, baby.â
Thenâ
Joel pressed forward.
Slow.
Heavy.
Thick.
The swollen head of his cock pushed against your slick entrance, parting your folds, stretching you open inch by agonizing inch. Your body clenched around him instinctively, the burn sweet and deep, making you gasp, your fingers digging harder into his shoulders.
âFuckââ Joel groaned, long and drawn out, his forehead dropping against yours as he fought to hold himself back, his hands gripping your waist so tightly you knew thereâd be bruises come morning. âGoddamn, baby⊠sâfuckinâ tightââ
You moaned at the stretch, the way your cunt swallowed him up, the way he felt inside youâthick and throbbing, pulsing against your walls, filling you more than you ever thought possible.
And fuck, he wasnât even all the way in yet.
Joel was shaking.
Every muscle in his body drawn tight, his cock twitching as he struggled to keep himself together, to not just slam in all at once and lose himself in the hot, wet grip of you.
He was too old for this shit.
Too fucking old to be trembling like some desperate goddamn virgin, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt, his breath coming in ragged pants as he forced himself to go slow.
But Jesus Christâ
You were so small.
So fucking tiny compared to him, your cunt squeezing around his cock like it was trying to keep him out, like you werenât built to take something this fucking big.
But you would.
You had to.
Joel wasnât stopping.
âTake it,â he muttered, more to himself than to you, voice wrecked, low and strained. âYouâll fuckinâ take all of it, little girl. Gonna stretch you out real nice, make you mine.â
You whimpered, legs trembling as you tried to relax, tried to take him deeper.
âGood job, sweet girl,â Joel groaned, voice rough, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, spreading them wider, pressing his weight against you. âThatâs it. Thatâs a good fuckinâ girl.â
You clenched around him at that, and Joel felt itâfelt the way your body squeezed him, the way your breath hitched, the way your back arched just slightly, like your body was instinctively trying to get more.
And fuck, that just about broke him.
His hips twitched, and suddenly, he was sinking deeper, forcing more of his cock inside your tight little cunt, and you gasped, nails raking down his arms as he stretched you even further, the feeling almost too much, too fullâ
But fuck, it felt so good.
âJoelââ
He groaned at the sound of his name falling from your lips, dark eyes snapping up to meet yours, pupils blown wide, his lips parted as he panted against your mouth.
âYeah, baby?â he rasped, voice dripping with heat.
You couldnât even form words. Couldnât think past the way he felt inside you, past the way he was holding you open, filling you up, stretching you out in a way youâd never felt before.
âMore,â you whispered, breath hitching, thighs trembling. âPlease.â
Joel growled.
Deep and low, something primal and wrecked, and before you could process itâ
He thrust forward.
Burying himself to the fucking hilt.
You choked on a gasp, your whole body jerking at the sheer force of it, the sudden fullness, the way he bottomed out inside you, his cock nestled so deep it felt like he was fucking splitting you in half.
Joel snapped.
The last thread of his restraint fucking gone.
âFuckââ He groaned, hips jerking, grinding himself deeper, reveling in the way you squirmed, the way you moaned, the way your body clenched around him like you never wanted to let go.
âGoddamn, sweetheartââ His voice was all rough edges, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. âYou feel that? How deep I am?â
You could barely think, barely breathe, barely function beyond the overwhelming stretch of him inside you, the way he filled every inch of you, every nerve ending fucking screaming in pleasure.
Joel didnât wait for an answer.
Didnât need one.
Because he knew.
Knew you felt it.
Knew you loved it.
âLook at you,â he groaned, his lips dragging over your throat, his fingers digging into your thighs. âTakinâ me so fuckinâ good, sweetheart. Made for this. Made to take my cock, werenât you? You were askin' for this, huh? Teasin' me all these weeks?â
You moaned.
Loud and wrecked, your head tilting back, exposing more of your throat, and Joel fucking ate it up.
âFuck, baby, youâre squeezinâ me so goddamn tight,â he rasped, voice strained, his hips pulling back just slightly before pressing forward again, grinding against that soft, spongy spot inside you. âLike this little pussy donât wanna let me go.â
You whimpered.
Because it didnât.
Didnât want him to go.
Didnât want anything except moreâmore of him, more of this, more of the way he was stretching you open, fucking ruining you for anyone else.
And Joel knew it.
Could feel it.
Could see it in the way your body arched, in the way your nails dug into his skin, in the way you moaned his name like a prayer.
And fuckâ
That did something to him.
Something dark.
Something needy.
Something possessive.
His hips snapped forward, harder this time, and you cried out, hands flying up to grip his shoulders, and fuck, he loved that sound.
âOh, godâi - you feel so good,â you cry, eyes fluttering shut, pleasure rolling over you in hot, heavy waves.
âYeah, baby?â he rasped, voice full of filthy heat. âThat what you want? Want me to fuck this sweet little pussy with my cock? Want me to ruin you?â
You gasped, back arching, nails dragging down his back.
âYesââ
And that was all he needed.
All he needed to let go, to give in, to let the raw, aching need consume him.
Joelâs grip on your hips tightened, and thenâJoel growled.
A deep, wrecked, guttural thing that ripped through his chest, and suddenlyâhe was moving.
Thrusting.
Fucking you.
âOhâoh godââ Your back arched, breath hitching, body jolting with each sharp thrust, each desperate snap of his hips.
Joel fucking grinned.
âThat what it takes, huh?â he rasped, voice dripping with filthy satisfaction. âA big cock to shut you up, baby? Hm?â
You moaned, head lolling back against the cushions, unable to form words, pleasure slamming into you so hard your mind went blank.
And Joel? He ate it up.
âYeah, thatâs what I thought,â he gritted out, gripping your hips tighter, dragging you down onto him, forcing you to take every inch. âToo busy takinâ my cock to be a smug little brat now, huh?â
You whimpered.
And Joel groaned, eyes rolling back slightly as his pace faltered, his cock twitching inside you.
Fuckâhe wasnât gonna last.
Not with this.
Not with the way you were tightening around him, squeezing him like you wanted him to cum, like you wanted him to break apart inside you, wanted to milk every drop from his aching cock.
His breath turned ragged, hips stuttering, muscles tensing, andâ
âOh, babyâshit, IâI wonâtââ
His voice broke.
He gritted his teeth, fighting it, holding on as long as he could, but you were so fucking tight, so fucking wet, so fucking perfectâ
And thenâ
You clenched around him again, dragging him deeper, pressing your lips to his ear, voice all soft and sweetâ
âCum for me, Joel.â
And that was it.
Joel snapped.
His body locked up, cock throbbing as a strangled groan tore from his throat, his hips pressing flush against you as he spilled deep inside you, pumping you full, burying himself as deep as he could while pleasure crashed over him in heavy, burning waves.
His breath stuttered, his whole body trembling, nails digging into your skin.
Your body was still trembling, sweat slicking your skin, the heat between your legs thick and wet with the mess Joel had already left inside you. Your mind was still spinning, your breath uneven, but Joel wasnât done.
Not even close.
He held you close, his big body still caging you in, his thick arms wrapped around you like he needed to keep you there, to pin you down, to claim you.
His lips moved against your damp skin, pressing soft, wet kisses against your shoulder, up your throat, nuzzling against the sensitive skin behind your ear as he let out a deep, satisfied groan.
But thenâ
Another pulse.
Another deep, warm spurt of cum filling you up, coating your walls even though you swore he had already given you everything he had.
Your breath hitched, your body twitching slightly as you felt itâfelt him still throbbing, still leaking, still making sure every single drop stayed buried inside you.
âJoel,â you gasped, tilting your head back against the couch, your fingers curling weakly into his sweaty back. âYouâre still cumming?â
Joel grunted against your neck, his hips giving a slow, almost involuntary push forward, like he was trying to press himself even deeper, to make sure it stuck. His lips dragged up to your jaw, warm and slightly open, his breath ragged, his voice wrecked when he finally muttered,
âStill got more for you, baby.â
Fuck.
Your stomach tightened, another wave of heat rolling through you at the sheer desperation in his tone, the filth in his words. You felt his mouth on you again, felt the rough scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, and thenâ
Joel groaned, his lips finally finding yours, capturing them in a slow, wet kiss. The second you moaned into itâ
Another slow pulse inside you.
Another spurt.
Hot, deep, filling you up all over again.
Joel shuddered against you, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, swallowing your soft whimpers as he rocked into you, his cock still buried deep, still throbbing, still giving you everything.
You broke the kiss first, tilting your head back against the couch, a dazed, smug little smile curling on your lips. âYou really are an old pervert,â you murmured, voice teasing, breathless.
Joelâs hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your face back toward his. His dark eyes were hooded, heavy with lust, filled with something possessive and raw as his fingers flexed slightly, keeping you in place.
âAnd you,â he rasped, his voice low, dangerous, âare a fuckinâ menace.â
His hips rocked again, and you let out a choked little gasp as you felt just how deep he was still buried inside you, still stretching you, still keeping you full. He groaned at the sound, dipping his head to bite softly at your bottom lip before licking over it, tasting you, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, lazy tease.
You melted into it, humming softly as you curled your fingers into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly.
Joel growled.
His breath was heavy against your lips, warm and ragged, his body shuddering slightly as the last waves of pleasure pulsed through him. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw, then another just beneath your ear, his lips soft and warm and so different from the way heâd just fucked youâfilthy and desperate and rough.
Now, he was gentle.
Now, he was melting against you.
His weight pressing you down, his hands smoothing over your hips, his fingers curling possessively around the softness of your thighs. Keeping you close. Keeping you his.
You sighed, shifting just slightly, feeling the thick heat of him settle inside you, the stretch easing, leaving behind a deep, satisfied ache. You were so full.
So stuffed with him.
And god, you could feel itâthe way he was still throbbing deep inside, the way the sticky warmth of his spend was already beginning to leak out, thick and hot, slicking your thighs where you were still stretched wide around him.
You smirked.
âHm,â you mused, tilting your head back against the couch, letting your fingers drag lazily down his back. âI really got forty-year-old cum inside me right now, huh?â
Joel groaned, shifting slightly, dragging his lips down the curve of your throat, nipping softly. âBaby, donâtââ
âWhat?â You grinned, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you rolled your hips slightly, making him hiss. âJust stating facts.â
Joel exhaled sharply, his fingers flexing where they gripped your waist, holding you still. âNot forty,â he muttered, his voice a low, grumbled thing against your skin.
You hummed, tilting your head slightly. âOh? My bad. Forty-something-year-old cum.â
Joel groaned again, his forehead dropping against your shoulder. âYouâre impossible.â
You laughed softly, your fingers threading through his damp hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. âAnd yet,â you purred, voice sweet and teasing, âyou still came so deep inside me.â
His hips flexed, pushing deeper, and you gasped, arching slightly beneath him. Joel lifted his head then, dark eyes meeting yours, something warm and hungry and satisfied settling there.
âDamn right, I did.â
You shivered.
His lips curled slightly, his hand dragging down to rest against your lower belly, pressing thereâright over the place where you were still stuffed full of him.
âKnow how long I been thinkinâ about that?â he murmured, fingers flexing slightly. âFillinâ you up like this?â
Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering as he rolled his hips again, slow, lazy, letting you feel every inch of him inside you. âJoelâŠâ
His lips found yours again, slow and deep and lingering, his tongue sliding against yours in a soft, lazy tease. You melted into it, letting him kiss you slow, letting him take his time, letting him savor the taste of you, the feel of you, the warmth of you still wrapped around him.
When he finally pulled back, he looked at you for a long moment, his hand smoothing up your side, curling around your ribs, tracing absentminded circles into your skin.
âYou okay, sweet girl?â he murmured, voice softer now, rough around the edges but warm.
You exhaled, stretching slightly, feeling the way his body fit against yours, warm and solid and safe. You felt good.
Better than good.
A slow, satisfied smile curled on your lips. âMore than okay.â
Joel grunted, pressing one last kiss to your jaw before finally shifting, pulling out slowly, carefully, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he felt just how soaked you were.
He sat back, dark eyes dragging over the sight of youâlegs spread, pussy messy and glistening, his cum already beginning to leak out onto the couch. His jaw clenched, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out and push it back inside.
Your smirk deepened. âLike what you see?â
Joel exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. âYouâre gonna be the death of me, girl.â
You stretched your arms over your head, arching slightly, your grin widening. âWell,â you mused, voice lazy and satisfied, âif you die, at least youâll die a very happy pervert.â
Joel rolled his eyes, reaching for you, tugging you onto his lap effortlessly, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close.
You sighed, melting into him, pressing your forehead against his, your fingers dragging up the back of his neck.
Joel exhaled, his breath warm against your lips, his fingers flexing slightly where they gripped your hips.
Then, voice low, murmured against your mouthâ
âYeah, baby. Happiest Iâve ever been.â
· · âââââââââââđ„žââââââââââ· ··
...Hey y'all im back. Opinions and comments are greatly appreciated please PLEASE (please)
#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#tlou fanfiction#joel miller fan fic#the last of us#joel smut#joel miller x reader#ameliaâs tbr
11K notes
·
View notes
Text
MOTHERFUCKING FUCKING FUCK ME HELLO
Pardon me, but do those arms come with complimentary napkins?


#joel miller#joel tlou#the last of us#tlou#pedro pascal#the last of us hbo#the last of us game#joel miller smut#ameliaâs wows
277 notes
·
View notes
Text
LEAKING. CREAMING. GUSHING.
The curls, the grey in the beard, the biceps, the subtle armpit hair. I am physically not ok. How in the hell does he keep getting hotter. Like take me the fuckkkkkkk outtttttt
(Also I forget where I seen this gif on here I was doom scrolling so if it's yours thank you )
#pedro pascal#joel miller#fanfic#joel x reader#smut#the last of us#fanfiction#pedro x reader#joel smut#fandom
345 notes
·
View notes
Text
I want to braid his hair and kiss him and cuffle him and tell him he is loved and he is worthy and HE IS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT.
Joel, tell him he's okay. Everything is great.
#pedro pascal#ppascaledit#pedropascaledit#the last of us#tlouedit#joel miller#thelastofusedit#the last of us hbo#tlouhboedit#tvedit#joel core#joel miller tlou#joel and ellie#joelmiller#joel tlou#joel the last of us#joel miller pedro pascal
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
RECOMMENDED BY TWT MOOTS I NEED TIME TO READ IT CAN I SKIP WORK
âcherry; series masterlist



pairing: joel miller x f!sex worker!reader
summary: Lonely, widowed, Joel seeks company where he knows he shouldn't.
series status: in progress, Updates on Tuesdays usually around 4/5PM EST!
general series warnings, please see each chapter's individual warnings for a complete list: age gap (20s/50s), smut (in most, probably all, chapters), reader is a sex worker, misogyny, smoking (reader and joel), internalized shame, poverty and issues and dangers that come along with that
a/n: this fic is my baby, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I've never preplanned a series and had the parts completed or mostly completed before publishing it before. maybe I was being a little selfish in keeping them to myself. updates every tuesday <3
chapters below the cut:
cherry ; Lonely, widowed, Joel seeks company where he knows he shouldn't.
late nights ; You never expect Joel to come back, let alone to search for you.
offers ; Joel comes back to you like clockwork. He has a proposition for you.
resolve ; Joel gives you a credit card. You're hesitant to use it.
interlude ; Joel grapples with guilt and shame. But there's no quitting you.
even just that ; Joel calls you; you call Joel.
more than, twice as ; Joel is different than all the other men you've slept with. . .Right?
warmth like... ; A promise is fulfilled. Joel takes you horseback riding.
best laid plans ; You attempt quitting with variable results.
only in quotes ; Things can't keep going on as they have, can they?
in effect ; Going it alone isn't easy.
extras:
cherry playlist
how cherry evolved as i wrote her
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#series masterlist#ameliaâs tbr#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal smut
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I WILL FOREVER LOVE THIS WRITER AND THIS MASTERLIST AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL
Joel Miller
Waiting Game (dbf!Joel)
Joel has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friendâs daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when heâs forced to share a motel room with you.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
One shots for the Waiting Game âverse
Homemade: While your dadâs watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.
Diehard: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.
Ruined!: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. Youâve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.
Cabin Fever (Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader) [DEAD DOVE]
Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.
Confines: Joel locks you up in a subterranean bunker.
Finders Keepers (bfd!Joel)
When you find an old shirt of Mr. Millerâs lying around, you canât resist. When he finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.
Cry, Baby
Joel fucks you to the point of tears. Thatâs all.
Just Peachy [anal]
Joelâs got a jealous streak and a bold idea.
Wingman (himbo!Joel crackfic)
Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.
Watch Your Mouth
Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.
Love Tap (dad!Joel)
Old habits die hard with your husbandâtouching you at inappropriate times is one of them.
If You Like Piña Coladas (neighbor!Joel)
You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesnât need one.
My Body, His Choice [freeuse]
After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.
Whoâs Your Daddy? (stepdad!Joel)
You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.
Make It Stick
Joel never thought heâd need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.
Stiff: At fifty-nine, Joel isnât sure his dick can keep up with every day itâs going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jacksonâs local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.
Cowboy Killers
On a mission to findâand fightâyour best friendâs lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.
Seeing Pink [DD/LG]
Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take.
Easy to Please (sleazy landlord!Joel)
Months pass, and you canât make rentâagain. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again.
Wants and Needs (sugar daddy!Joel)
Bills are high; your dadâs boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and himâfor now.
Bigger in Texas
Joel wonât fit.
Marcus Acacius
Bloodline
The General needs an heir.
Bucky Barnes
Wedded Bliss (Mob!Bucky)
The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets heâs meant to be faking this whole thingâand hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Daryl Dixon
Dead Ringer
Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sureâand couldn't care less. Daryl wants to fulfill the fantasy any way he can.
Easy Street
You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You canât decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.
Nighthawk
You decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off your breakup with Daryl. Your ex isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.
Cherry Pie
You know virtually nothing about sex, and Darylâs done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than whatâs covered in the textbooks.
Walker Bait
An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.
Grow a Uterus and Weâll Talk
Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. Youâre practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.
Honey Trap
Youâve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandriaâs community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yetâthat is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.
Pregnant Pause
Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesnât show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacyâand get a little caught up along the way.
Mr. Dixon
Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and âneighborliness.â
Iâm a Good Girl, Officer!
Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.
Playing Dangerous
Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but youâre still game.
Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)
Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.
Best Served Cold
Since your fiancĂ© canât seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.
Coming Soon:
Bite the Bullet
Back at the prison, new recruits have been showering you with gifts. One of these presents doesnât sit quite right with Daryl, and he decides itâs time to let the men know just how he feelsâand who you belong to.
Atlantic City
A very drunk Daryl meets a stripper in Jersey and wastes no time putting a ring on her finger. With the late, great Elvis Presley presiding, the two get hitched in a slipshod ceremony a couple weeks before the world descends into chaos. This marriage may be short-lived, but damn if the honeymoon wonât be one to remember.
Requests are open!
#ameliaâs tbr#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#pedro pascal smut#the last of us#ameliaâs fic recs#pedro pascal x reader#pls pedro#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedropascal#pedro pascal imagines#pedro pascal character fanfic
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
TELL ME THIS ISNT IT TELL ME READER IS GONNA BE SARAHâs MOMMA TELL ME TELL MEEEEEEE
Too Close for Comfort

Pairing: Joel Miller x Babysitter!Reader
Summary: Youâve been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, youâre surfing the web on her dadâs computer, and you find someâŠunusual things in his search history.
Or, Joel likes to jerk off to your lookalike on PornHub. Itâs time you showed him what the real thing is like.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Creampie. Mommy/Daddy Roleplay (HEAR ME OUT!!) Brief boot humping. Squirting. Perv!Joel. Breeding kink.
Note: âJust call me if anyone else checks inâŠand by anyone, I mean any swingin dickâ is a line from No Country for Old Men
Word count: 12.7k
Purple slime had been Sarahâs idea.
It was an innocent thing, really. The four-year-old had practically been bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes wide and shining with excitement when sheâd beggedââCan we pleeeeease?!ââand who were you to tell her no?
Youâd only be breaking one small rule of Joelâs, after all. One silly little admonition heâd made before leaving for work the first day youâd started babysitting for him. That had been over a year ago, and he hadnât even sounded that serious when heâd said it. He probably wouldnât mind if you bent the rule this one time at Sarahâs behest.
âDonât go in the computer room, please.â
Donât use Joelâs desktop. Donât rifle through any of the drawers in Joelâs officeâit was a mess, but everything was in its place, according to him. Just donât go in there.
But in exchange for Sarah agreeing to take her nap that day without protest, youâd promised to order her slime.
Purple, gooey, glittery, sticky stuff for her new collection.
You werenât sure when the fuck putty had become the plaything of choice for kids in Pre-K, but you hadnât been in a place to judge; whatever Sarah wanted to do, so long as it was safe for her to play with, was totally fine by you.
It was just one rule.
Surely if Mr. Miller knew how badly his daughter wanted the slime, heâd be fine with you booting up his computer once. That was what you kept telling yourself, anyway.
What kept humming through your mind as the desktop came to life and you toggled straight for Google Chrome.
Be quick, be quiet, itâs fine. Itâs fine.
Purple gooâit was safe. Innocent. Completely justifiable.
What could the sweet, old, forty-something and forever polite Joel Miller possibly have to hide on this machine that made it wrong for you to buy this one simple toy?
You reached for the keyboard and inhaled a quick breath.
Then you typed one letter, and your heart nearly seized.
PâŠ
âŠornhub.com
It was the very first thing that appeared in the search bar.
You couldnât unsee it. Instinctively, your hand clamped over your mouth, and your eyes widened. You couldnât help but read the four URLs that immediately dropped down below the first; they were just so garishly inviting.
Hot, Naughty Babysitter gets POUNDED by her Boss!
Slutty Babysitter Gets Railed from Behind and Loves It
Big Dick Boss Gives Babysitter a Passionate Raw Fuck
âIâve Never Done This!â Babysitter Deepthroats Cock
âOhâŠmy gosh,â you said, words muffled by your palm.
You couldnât believe what you were seeing. It was just too bizarre, too far out of character, too unlike your boss.
The man had scarcely said ten words to you altogether that didnât relate to your job in some way or another. He rarely ever engaged in casual confab, and he certainly wasnât the type to flirt, or make you uncomfortable in the slightest. Frankly, in all the time youâd been babysitting, you always thought you were justâŠinvisible to Joel Miller.
Not this. Never this.
You were still staring at the screen when you realized that youâd missed one URL title from the list. It was long.
It was the most unnerving one of all, you came to see.
Babysitter Lounging Poolside in Hot Red Bikini Gets a BIG SurpriseâHer Old Boss Teaches Her How to FUCK
Your hand lowered from your face. It trembled, contemplating, before coming to rest atop the mouse.
Something about this seemed familiar. StrangelyâŠoff.
You couldnât explain it, but your head and your heart and your hand gravitated to that one odd link in particular. You hadnât even meant to move the mouse. Or press it with your finger. But there you went, following your instincts like some dumb, brainless ditz, and then the screen was changing. Going dark with the shift to an adult site before brightening anew with the thumbnail.
It was paused on one frame. Your jaw slackened.
The girl staring back from the scene was you.
Or looked exactly, uncannily like you anyway.
It was then that you noticed what she was wearing, tooâwhat you guessed wouldnât be on her body for longâand you glanced down to your own shoulder. Just like your on-screen doppelgĂ€nger, you were wearing the same bikini in a bright, cherry-red hue beneath your tank top.
You wore it under your clothes damn near every day, indulging in the Millersâ backyard pool more often than not, and even being allowed to swim there on the days Sarah had summer campâJoel had been so obliging.
So accommodating and sweet.
You never thought heâd be seeking your fucking twin online on a porn site after watching you traipse around his property wearing it. Your gut clenched; you clicked.
âHey, sweetheart! Everything go OK?â
The voice that rumbled through the speakers was low. Male. Vaguely paternal and with a hint of a Southern lilt.
You swallowed, knowing exactly where this was going.
You werenât sure why you were even watching when you could already predict what would become of it. The camera panned over a body identical to yours; it landed on a face that was smiling and sweet and so like your own you almost had to question whether it might not be you after all. Had you somehow forgotten this secret porn alter ego in a bout of amnesia? You kept watching.
The girl bit her bottom lip and let out the phoniest giggle.
âYes, sir. Perfectly fine. Do you like my new bikini?â
Be so fucking serious, you thought, critically.
Then you remembered it was porn, not an Oscar-winning film. You saw the camera tilt down to her tits, and you had to admit, she had a great rack. A bit nicer than yours.
For a beat, you wondered if Joel had thought the same.
You had to batter those thoughts away, because the next second brought a big, burly hand onto the screen. It reached for the girl with her perfect, perky breasts and it kneaded them softly. No further pretense or prelude was neededâthey just jumped right in and let it happen, like this was a normal thing for a babysitter and a boss to do.
Maybe in some other universe it was. In a world where a girl your age could just smile, and bat her eyes, and let them roll back gently as a whimper crossed her lips and she begged him, âMore, daddy, more!â this was all okay.
The man squeezed the flesh harder. She whined, and he proceeded to push the red nylon aside and expose the whole expanse of her breastâand holy shit, even the nipple looked like yours. Your mouth opened wider, and for a moment, it was like you couldnât breathe as you watched that old, sun-kissed hand fondle the breast of a girl who looked just like you. Who was peering up at a man who sounded almost like Joel, murmuring, âAttagirl.â
Youâd heard your boss say that once.
It had been such a silly, off-handed thing that you doubted he even remembered saying it. But one time, youâd struggled to open the passenger door to his truck before he drove you home. Once youâd narrowly managed to pry it open and slide into your seat, heâd laughed and rumbled: âAttagirl.â Your face had warmed.
Just like your cheeks were doing now, all hot and bothered and desperate to hear more. Presently, the man slid the top off of the girlâs chest, and her breasts hung freely. You could hear him groan behind the camera at the sight, and not too long after that, before he could reach to touch her tits again, she was crawling on her knees toward him. Shuffling easily and expertly across the lawn chair and undoing the belt, button, and zip of his pants in a matter of seconds. A hand smoothed over her head, and you could see her preen beneath his touch.
Before sheâd even wrapped her lips around his cock, your stomach was churning. Your fingers were stirring from the mouse and moving gentlyâagain, of their own volition, it seemedâtoward the waistband of your own bottoms. It was sick, admittedly. So wrong to be wanting to touch yourself to the very same video your boss had indulged in himself, in the very same chair he had done the deed. But you couldnât help it. Your fingers slipped under the the fabric of your shorts, then your bikini, then your throat let out the tiniest noise upon seeing a cock appear on-screen. It was abnormally large, of course.
Silently, you wondered if Joelâs might not look the same. Your stomach flipped as soon as the girl took it in her mouth, and your index and middle fingers landed on your clit. You barely needed to touch to feel a jolt of pleasure.
Her head bobbed up and down. You felt powerless to do anything else but rub. And circle. And moan the slightest bit when you saw her coat his length with her shiny spit.
You heard that your noises mirrored hers. You didnât care. Really, it felt as though you were in a trance, and you couldnât stop watching, or touching, until youâd had your fill. Like Mr. Miller had done himself. It was all too much.
Before you even realized it, five minutes had passed, the man and woman on-screen were shifting from oral to raw, penetrative sex, and you were nearing your peak. Right before the cock that had been lodged down the girlâs throat could slide into her wet, glistening cunt, you felt your stomach lurch. You rubbed harder, watching the fat and leaking tip of the manâs cock tease through her folds, and just as he was about to slide in and you could finally find your releaseâŠa door banged open downstairs.
You almost screamed.
As quickly as you could, you yanked your hand out of your pants and clicked out of that browser even faster. The second you heard footfalls on the steps, you scampered out of there. Half-sprinting, half-tip-toeing down the hall and toward the bathroom, before halting at the door. You made your presence known with one light stomp of your foot, pretending to be turning and walking out, and as soon as you did, Joel was right there. Staring.
Sweating.
Scrubbing at his face with one weary hand, before taking a rag and wiping it through his beard. He sighed heavily.
âLong day?â you chirped while trying to mask the panic.
âLike you wouldnât believe,â Joel answered, voice wan, âHowâs my little terror? Asleep? She give ya any trouble?â
Just asked me to buy her a toy online and inadvertently led me to find your internet Spank Bank archives full of women who look like me. Other than that, it was fine.
âI put her down about an hour ago. She was great.â
You forced a smile, and Joel seemed to believe it.
âPerfect. Need me to give you a ride home?â
âNo, no, you should stay here with Sarââ
ââSâalright. Tommyâs right downstairs.â
Of course heâd brought him home.
âNo, really, I can walk. Itâs fineââ
âDonât be silly. Câmon, kiddo.â
Kiddo.
Kiddo.
The man had been jerking off to the thought of you for who knows how long, and now he called you âkiddoâ?
You hated how arousing the nickname sounded from him
You despised yourself for rubbing your clit in his office.
Most of all, you loathed the way your panties had gotten wet the last time youâd climbed into his truck and heard that word crawl off of his old, drawling tongue: âAttagirl.â
Reluctantly, you nodded your head. You followed him downstairs and hoped the car door wouldnât stick again.
He had to stop.
It was no longer a matter of âifâ but âwhenâ his dick would lead him straight off a cliff, and today, Joel was starting to think that precipice was looking extra nice. Tempting.
Almost as inviting as the divot he could see at the small of your back, glimmering with a couple hot beads of sweat under the midafternoon sun. He swallowed.
Sarah was at camp today. Youâd had the time to yourself, and the weather was blistering hot, and of course, where else would you be but his backyard? Heâd told you ad nauseum, ever since you started babysitting his kid, that his pool was open to you whenever you so chose to go.
Presently, Joel wished he could revoke that invitation.
Seeing how you were flipped on your stomach, body all soft and warm and splayed out on one of his deck chairsâwearing that fucking red swimsuit, of all thingsâJoel was left to ogle from his office window, and inside, he felt like a certified pervert. Arguably, he was. His old, worn hands had all but glided to find his mouse as soon as heâd sat down at his desk and saw you out there, and no sooner had his cursor found Chrome than his cock started to stir. Heâd wanted to watch. If not you in all your bare, sun-baked glory, then surely the woman he could see getting her throat and cunt stuffed on his screen.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Was he really that much of a gooner he couldnât let his kidâs babysitter lounge outside without stroking his dick?
Shit. He had the bottle of lotion in one hand and the box of tissues in the other in no time at all. He ripped three free Kleenex aside and reached for his mouse once more.
He was pissed at himself. He toggled over to the Hub with a grunt, and in no time at all, had you pulled up.
Joel liked to pretend it was you, anyway.
If he couldnât have the sweet young thing every swinging dick in this town wouldâve killed to have himself, he could rub one out to a girl exactly like you. He could fantasize.
He could skip the video to 8:53 on the dot, as he always did, and he could rub himself raw. It wouldnât take long.
He always fast-forwarded to that exact part, without fail, because she moaned like you then. Heâd never forget it.
It had almost been six months since it happened, and he still remembered that sound as clear as day. Youâd been hauling your backpack off the couch in the living room, having stuffed the thing full with more school supplies than you could feasibly carry, and Joel had been in the kitchen, unseen. Youâd lifted the bag with effort, and once you had, you let out a soft but audible whine. You dropped the bag back down to your feet, and when you bent to try again, youâd moaned fully. It was like the stretch had made you feel good, or something. Youâd huffed and managed to get the weight slung over your back with modest success, then left, but Joel had been changed. Too quickly had he retreated to his office and swore to find any clip where a moan sounded like that.
âPlease! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eamâoh, OH!â
Granted, the dialogue was cheesy, but the sound after it was identical to the one youâd made. Joel repeated it.
He hadnât even noticed, but heâd already lathered his hand and cock with lotion. He was scrubbing vigorously while your twin wiggled her hips and begged her co-star to put it in, to quit teasing her pussy like that, canât you see Iâm practically dripping for you, daddy? Look at it!
Unfortunately, Joelâs head was turned the other directionâaway from the screen, and toward the windowâwatching you where you sat out on the lawn.
He stroked harder. He groaned.
You had just turned onto your back. Your tits looked incredible. Joel reckoned theyâd look even better with his dick pushed up between them, and at the thought, his mouth watered. His lips were slightly parted, and he feared he might drool. What a sight he must have been then: jaw slack, lids heavy, cock in hand, and moan after moan bubbling out of his throat. He got closer to climax.
âGonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.â
It wasnât long after that that Joel heard the girl whine in pleasureâthe man behind her had notched in the first inch and told her to behaveâand meanwhile, he watched your chest rise and fall, rise and fall outside. It was calm. Unlike the girl being taught how to fuck poolside, you remained untouched. Spotless. Placid and serene while your hands picked up a magazine and began flipping through it. While Joelâs orgasm crested inside him, he wondered if youâd ever want to try something like that. Roleplay. Or would it be fake at all? Had you ever been touched by a man, shown the best ways to give and receive pleasure, or was it all brand new, like it was supposed to be for the woman on his screen? Joel panted, and he fucked his hand harder. He groaned.
âOh, daddy, itâs so big! Feels so good going inside me!â
âYou love gettinâ fucked by an older man, donât you?â
âYes, daddy, yes! Please donât stopâoh, OHHH!â
Joel wanted to be the only older man you had.
If he wasnât the first, he sure as fuck could be the last. Give you all the dizzying, euphoric feelings your body deserved and stretch you open gently for the taking.
He could teach you so much, ruin you for any othâ
Shit.
What the fuck was this asshole doing here?
At the back gate, he saw his neighbor Dieter.
The man strolled across the lawn, and Joelâs orgasm receded in a blink. He was walking right over to you.
No. No, no, no. Joel released his dick from its vice grip and felt the thing twitch in indignation. Meanwhile, the sound of skin on skin continued to flood his eardrums from out of the computer speakers, where the happy babysitter-boss duo was hitting a brutal pace. The girl let out one over-the-top shriek of pleasure, and Joel clicked pause. He toggled out of the browser. Then he redirected his gaze out the office window, where his own girl was being accosted by Dieter. His blood boiled with anger.
Who did this creep think he was? The man never so much as looked Joelâs way or approached his property unless it was to ask to be âlentâ some booze or else ask after some friend, relative, or coworker Dieter wanted to be introduced toâhe was perennially unemployed and a fuckboy bachelor to his core. The last Joel had heard, heâd spent the last year in Los Angeles, or Paris, or some other too-big city to chase his singing and acting dreams
And here he was now, hitting on his poor, defenseless babysitter. Joel wouldnât stand for that in any world.
Though his dick was still erect, it had softened some, too. His rage facilitated that, and him shoving his length back in his jeans, zipping it up, and all but punching the desktop off made it spongier still. He walked like he was mad at the floor beneath his boots. He wasnât sure why he was feeling so defensiveâhe had just been rubbing one out to the sight of you less than five minutes agoâbut now wasnât the time for thinking. He had to act.
Protect, if he had to.
What if his neighbor wanted to go for a swim, too?
Joel would drown the man with his two bare hands if he so much as reached for your bikini-clad form. He stalked loudly down the hall and searched for a less sweaty shirt to wear, then some deodorant, then a comb. He peered in the bathroom mirror and saw his black-and-grey locks all out of sorts, and for a second, he contemplated taking a shower. Youâd probably be able to smell his unsatisfied desire from outside. He looked, and felt, a bit unhinged.
Joel decided he didnât care, before plodding downstairs.
Outside, you lay in the same position heâd seen you last. Your hand was shielding your face. You were smiling.
And beside you, Dieter was grinning even bigger.
Joel made a beeline down the porch steps, then across the lawn, like his life mightâve depended on it. Scowling.
ââbut getting cast in Gladiator II wouldâve been wildââ
Of course Dieter was yapping about his failed acting career. Of course. Joel could hear him drone on as he approached, though he didnât register a word of what he said. Instead, he waved a hand. He feigned a calm tone:
âDieter! Howâs it going?â
And he slowed down, too.
Just as he drew in, his neighbor volleyed a look his way. Joel couldnât miss how his smile twitched down a little.
âJoel.â
Accepting a cordial hand in greeting.
âDoing alright, how âbout yourself?â
Joel nodded fine, just fine and offered some offhand remark about not having seen him since last summer, and Dieter couldnât resist the chance to puff up and mention a school heâd been attending. Joel didnât hear it, or give a shit. His gaze was already trained on you. Your own flitted from Dieter, to Joel, then to Dieter again, and your lips were smiling kindly enough. You seem humored.
âMr. Bravo just got back from Berlin,â you beamed.
Then Dieter met your look and shook his head.
âDieter, sweetie, Dieter. Or Dee, if you want.â
Joel almost wanted to vomit in his mouth.
âGermany, huh? What brings you here?â
No sense in beating around the bush.
Joel meant to ask why Dieter was here, in his backyard, with his babysitter, of course. Why the fuck he was eyeing you like that, like your tits were two Emmys and the only way to earn it himself was to stare as long, and as hard, as possible. Joel cleared his throat instinctively.
Dieter blinked and cast a glance back to him.
âOh, here. Yeah. I, umâŠI just wanted to see if you had thatâ thatââ He snapped his fingers, âThat leafblower.â
Leafblower?
He was so full of shit.
âMy leafblower,â Joel repeated.
It was fucking July, for crying out loud.
Evidently, his neighbor didnât seem to care. He met Joelâs gaze with an even look, and he nodded his head.
He doubled down: âYeah, the leafblower. Iâve had some debris pile up in my yard since Iâve been gone, yâknow.â
âAre you gonna be in Austin long? Or are you going back overseas once youâve had that casting call?â you asked.
You cocked your head with genuine curiosity. Joel grit his teeth, but he tried not to let his discontent show anyplace else on his face. A muscle mightâve jumped when he saw how smugly Dieter smirked at your intrigue.
âOh, Iâll be here long enough, donât you worry,â he said.
That was it.
Joel gestured to the shed in the back corner of the yard, about to tell Dieter that the leafblower was in there, go knock yourself out, when his neighbor cut in once again.
âIn the meantime, maybe Iâll have you babysit for me. I hate to steal Sarahâs pal, but maybe you can split your time between my place and Joelâs. What do you think?â
You blinked a little quicker, like you werenât quite sure what to say at first. Joel took the chance to interject.
âYou donât have any kids, Bravo,â he practically growled.
âI know. Iâve got cats, though,â Dieter just grinned back, flitting a cheeky look to you. âAnd you have no idea how naughty those pussycats can get while a manâs away.â
That was really all Joel could take. He didnât even let you answer; he just pointed to the shed and made a fist with his other hand at his side. His chest was heaving breaths.
âYou and her can chat when sheâs off the clock, how âbout that? Leafblowerâs in the shed. Doorâs unlocked.â
His words didnât invite protest of any kind. Dense as he was, Dieter probably sensed that heâd ticked his neighbor off with the suggestive comment to his babysitter, and he backed away, both literally and figuratively. He bid a quick, cavalier goodbye with a shit-eating grin stretching his lips, and then he went to the storage shed and left.
You were still blinking, still creasing your brows tight, by the time the back gate had slammed shut behind him. You watched after him, teeth gnawing at your cheek.
âHe seemed like a funny guââ
âWhat do you think youâre doinâ?â
Joelâs words appeared to sting like a slap in the face. You jerked your head back to him, seeming to say, âWhat?â
âYou know what. Donât play innocent now,â Joel griped.
You continued to stare, then started to shake your head.
âMr. Millerââ
âDonât Mr. Miller me, either,â he snapped, far shorter than heâd ever spoken to you before. His nostrils flared, âYouâre old enough to know better. You did all of that.â
âAll of what?â you shot back.
âAttracted men like Dieter into my yard.â
âHeâs your neighbor! What do you expect?â
Offense marred your tone. He didnât entirely blame you.
âNo, noâhe never sticks his nose over here unless he sees something he wants. You were flaunting yourself.â
At that, your mouth fell open.
âAre you fucking kidding me, Miller? Are you serious?â
âLanguage, young ladyââ
âI donât give a shit.â You stood up from your chair. Your eyes flashed with ire. Just like his hands had before, yours curled into fists. You stood your ground with him. âYou invited me to come swim here whenever I wanted to. You did that, asshole. What did you expect me to sunbathe in, army fatigues and fucking combat boots?â
Joel blinked hard at that. He didnât like being mocked.
âStill shouldnât be that damn skimpy. And I said langââ
âYeah, yeah. Thanks, dad. Donât act like youâre mine.â
Donât act like youâre mine.
Joelâs chest tightened. His gaze seared into yours, almost as though he were as angry as you were now, but deep down, the man only felt remorse. Resentment. Whatever rage he harbored now was reserved for himself
He shouldnât have gone there.
He shouldnât have masked his own jealousy with pseudo paternal scolding. He looked like a dickhead doing that.
And you werenât shy to let him know it in the slightest.
Presently, your finger was jabbed in his face. You were planted less than two feet from where he stood, and though you were noticeably dwarfed by his size, your next words had him beat by a foot, if heâd had to guess.
âI watch your kid, Joel. I am not your daughter. If you donât want me hanging around here in my hot red bikini, then you can just say that. But donât blame me for him.â
Joel bristled at your words, though he wasnât sure why. When he opened his mouth to speak again, you added:
âAnd donât blame me for that, either.â
Suddenly, he realized your finger was pointed at his legs.
Or, rather, what was poking up stiff between them.
Joelâs cheeks heated up to a thousand degrees.
Youâd just caught him. Youâd seen his arousal.
And you were turning on your heels again.
Before Joel could even try to summon the words to his tongue, you were grabbing your things. Shoving your shoes onto your feet. And Joel had only to stand there.
Feeling stupid and inert beside you.
As you went to the back gate, he somehow managed to call that you didnât have a car, let him drive you back.
You didnât even dignify his words with a verbal response.
You just raised your middle finger over your shoulder.
And then the gate crashed shut behind you.
You would be walking home that day.
Two big eyes and round cheeks were all you could see.
Then, they darted beneath the covers and were gone.
âOh no, whereâd sweet Sarah go?â you wondered aloud. Sitting at the edge of the bed and pretending not to see where sheâd just dipped her head under the blankets, you furrowed your brows and proceeded to pat around you.
Everywhere you felt with your hands, you completely ignored the big lump under the duvet. It was a game.
A silly one at thatâhide-and-go-seek was generally best left to places where you couldnât figure out her location in the blink of an eye. But you played along. You heard a soft giggle. You continued feeling around the twin-sized mattress like this was the most bewildering puzzle of all.
âWhe-ereâs Sarah?â you sing-songed.
You heard a shuffling of limbs, a sniffle.
Your palm tapped right by those little feet.
And as soon as you did, she screamed. At four years old, Sarah hadnât quite mastered the art of being stealthy.
Youâd cut her some slack. You always had.
Blindly passing where her body lay, you glided to the opposite side of her bed and tapped inquiringly there.
âIs sheâŠhere?â You got a pillow.
âNo!â Sarah shrieked back.
Such a helpful, obliging kid. Sheâd make a terrible spy.
âIs sheâŠup here?â You rapped the headboard twice.
âNo!!â she squealed.
You glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was approaching bedtime. Taking note of this, and knowing you couldnât keep up with the charade for much longer, you let out a sigh. You stood from the bed, looked around the room with dramatic Ă©clat, then started to walk away.
âOkayâŠI guess if Sarahâs not here Iâll have to leaveâŠâ
The second you said that, Sarah threw the covers back. She jumped up in bed, and she stomped her little feet.
âNo! No! Iâm here! Iâm here!â
You spun on your heels, eyes wide with faux surprise.
âSarah!â
And then you rushed back over, just in time to watch her drop to the bed and flash you a wide, exuberant smile.
âYour Sarah,â she corrected.
She adored it when you called her that. Your Sarah.
You nodded your head in agreement, âMy Sarah. Sorry.â
She nodded too, like sheâd just reminded you of the most important thing, and then she slipped back under her covers. She let you drag the purple duvet over her frame, all the way up to her chin, and when she was all snug inside, she gave another smile. She kicked her feet again.
âStay,â she commanded, tone still sugar-sweet.
âI will, baby. âTil your daddy gets back, Iâll be here.â
âI mean forever!â Sarah dragged out the last syllable, and, not yet content with the answer youâd proffered, tried swaying you again, still more emphatic, âFor-ever!â
If your daddy wasnât such an ass, I might consider it.
Instead, you smiled back at her and shook your head. You smoothed the hair away from her face, then you leaned in and kissed her forehead with a gentle peck.
âThen my family would miss me. I gotta see them.â
âSays who?â Sarahâs pout was unmistakable.
Before you could reply, she cut in again.
âYou can be my family. My mommy.â
Your throat constricted at those words. You werenât sure what to say, or how to assuage your sweet Sarah then.
Again, you were about to open your mouth to speak, when your pint-sized companion piped up again. This time, her voice was softer. Surprisingly delicate and low.
âI want you to be my mommy,â she told you quietly, âThen youâll live here. With me and daddy. And youâll never have to go home again and we can play all day!â
Your heart ached. You kissed the tip of her nose and turned away, momentarily, to hide the hurt on your face.
Sarah Miller deserved much more in a mother than you.
When you looked up again, her grin was big. Hopeful.
âDonât you wanna be my mommy too?â she asked.
ââCourse I do, baby,â you answered without hesitation, âButâŠdonât you think your daddy should have a say too?â
Somehow, her face got even brighter.
âHe will! Heâ heâŠâ
Sarah trailed off a second, as if considering her words. She didnât understand what marriage meant. Youâd help.
âYour daddy,â you finished for her, speaking slow and soft as you leaned in close, âis a good man who deserves a good woman to make your mommy. Donât you agree?â
She bit the inside of her cheek.
âYeah, butââ
âAnd a mommyâs gotta be someone he really loves.â
âBut heâŠâ
She was thinking again. You could tell. You pressed on.
âHe is gonna find someone great someday. Heâll love you and her to bits, and yâall will get to play together all day.â
âBut he loves you!â Sarah cried, at length.
A beat.
Your breath faltered.
The girlâs words had scarcely hung in the air for more than two seconds, and their meaning hardly registered in your brain before your own were coming out fast. Certain
âYour daddy doesnât love me, baby. Iâm just his friend.â
âYes, he does! He told me so himself!â
Again, you shook your head.
âYou misunderstood him, sweetie.â
You tried to smooth her hair back again, but Sarahâs head bucked away. She scrunched up her nose in clear protest and refused to let you cradle her face until sheâd spoken her piece. When she did, her voice was pleading all over:
âDaddy loves you, he told me. You can be my mommy.â
And for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you felt your heart balloon in your chest. Your gut clenchedâbut not for the reasons she or you wanted it to. The truth was that you didnât have the words to tell a four-year-old girl that her father didnât love you like that at all, that his head and his heart were anywhere but with you, and that, if you were being honest, you were furious with him. How he could so much as hint at such nonsense was beyond you. His little girl dreamed of having a mother. It was stupid and senseless and cruel to even suggest that that woman could be you. You sighed.
But, despite your every thought and feeling to the contrary, you knew you had to soothe the girl with some small semblance of hope. Something to hold her over for the night, so she didnât cry herself to sleep thinking that you didnât want to be her mommy. Gently, you leaned in.
You lifted the covers back up from where theyâd fallen. You tucked them snug around her torso, and you paused.
Your tone was measured and soft when you spoke next:
âI donât know about your daddy, baby. What I do know is that I would be the luckiest lady alive to get to be your mommy, alright? Iâm not going anywhere, I promise.â
And you meant it. You saw one look light up her face, and every ounce of anger that had been provoked by her father was forgotten in an instant. Her grin ensured it.
âAnywhere,â she parroted back.
âAnywhere,â you said, again.
Then you kissed the crown of her head, wished her sweet dreams, cut the little light off. You left the room quietly.
It was only when you were out of there and far enough away down the hallway that your skin started to burn.
You couldnât help it. Anger was fast to trickle back.
This feeling was only compounded when the next moment brought a sound to the landing on the stairs. You glanced over down the hall, muscles all tensing at once, and when you saw him there, it was as though your rage just bubbled over. Your jaw clenched; your stomach flipped in a way so decidedly unlike how it had done for him two days ago, in his office, and suddenly, your throat was working again. You kept your voice low this time, keen not to draw Sarahâs attention out there, but the words you used were clear. Quiet. Doubtlessly effective.
Even in the dark, you saw his brows jump when he heard:
âJoel, we need to talk.â
It had been two years since heâd had a woman in here.
Joel wished it were under any circumstances but these.
Presently, your eyes were ablaze. The two of you had just stepped into his room and shut the door behind you, and with the click of a latch, you hadnât thought to hold it in:
âWhat the hell is wrong with you?â
He blinked.
Well, many things.
Joel wouldnât have had the space to explain it all if youâd given him a week, and still, he had to say something. He blinked again, made a sound in his throat as if to clear it, then shook his head. His shoulders sagged in his jacket.
âIâŠIâm sorry.â
For the other day. For getting caught up in his own anger and taking it out on you. He wasnât exactly sure what he was apologizing for now, or what he should say, but he thought it best to start there. He shrugged his jacket off and set it over the back of the nearest chair. He turned to you again, where you were standing with a warning look.
âDonât say sorry to me,â you said. âSay sorry to Sarah.â
Sarah?
Before he could speak, you went on.
âYouâre just setting her up for heartbreak, you know that? I mean how selfishâ how stupid could you possibly be?â
You pursed your lips like tears might threaten if you didnât. This caught him off guardâhis daughter? What could he have said or done to hurt her in any of this?
âWhat are you talking about?â
âYou said Iâd be her mom, Joel!â
He winced. You furrowed your brows and set your mouth in a lineâreally trying to fight the emotion behind itâand, while all the rest of you bristled in anticipation for what was to come, Joel softened. He didnât mean to. He didnât want to be the guy who lost his head at the thought of seeing you cry and forget the whole reason you were upset with him in the first place, but he couldnât help it. Though you looked like you wanted to kill him right then, Joel drew closer. He shifted toward you.
âDidâ did she, uhâŠcall youâŠmommy?â he said, pained.
âYeah. And you let her believe she could,â you spat.
He hadnât meant to do that, either. Sarah had been calling you that for a while when you werenât around to hear, and after enough times telling her otherwise, heâd just stopped correcting her on it. Sarah wanted a mother. You were the closest thing she had, and who was he to sabotage that? At the time, heâd just wanted toâŠpretend.
That was a running theme he had going with you.
Right now, you didnât seem to care about that.
You just rolled your eyes in that cool, juvenile way when you didnât hear a response from him, and he had to bite his tongue from saying something worse. He hated when you did that. It made him remember your ageâthe reality of you being his kidâs babysitter and how guilty he should feel for wanting to do something more about that eyeroll.
He wasnât your father.
You werenât Sarahâs mother, either.
You most certainly werenât the girl on his computer screen, as much as he wouldâve liked to see you that way, and even though you were standing here in his bedroom.
That was all fantasy. Make-believe. This was his reality.
You were visibly pissed and wouldnât budge an inch.
âIs it really so bad if she says it?â he grit out.
Your eyes widened. You scoffed.
âOf course it is, Joel!â
You backed away.
He hated seeing that, too. He hated having you move from him, not toward him, wearing that scowl on your lips as you did. His fingers twitchedâitchedâat his side.
âSarahâs young. She doesnâtâŠmean anything by it. Sheâll grow out of it soon enough. And I donât want to hurt her.â
âYouâll hurt her even worse by not telling her the truth!â you snapped. You sounded exasperated saying it now. âWeâre not a family. Iâm the goddamn babysitter, andâ andâ youâre Sarahâs father. Act like it, for Christâs sake.â
That set his teeth on edge.
Joel felt the urge to fight back, but narrowly refrained. He flexed his fingers, and he bit down hard to keep the vitriol at bay. Because that was exactly what fathers did. They controlled their anger; even when faced with a smart-mouthed babysitter who wore his patience out.
Even when your arms were folded over your chest in that impossibly tight, white tank, and your tits looked like they might spill from the fabric at any given moment. Joel swallowed and refocused his gaze before going on.
âDonât tell me how to be a father.â
Something flared in your eyes.
âWhy? Iâm fucking right.â
âLanguage, young lady.â
That only seemed to irk you worse; your hands flew up.
âYeah, well,â you started, accusing, âIf weâre playing house, I might as well be allowed to say what I like.â
âWe are not playing housââ
âBut you want to, right? Thatâs why Iâm always here.â
âNo, I need aââ
âMaid? Mommy?â
You paced closer. Joelâs jaw clenched.
âObedient little housewife?â you sneered.
Your eyes were shining like two derisive pools. With every blink, you seemed to mock him more. Goad him on and beg for your reward, though you hardly knew what it was.
âCâmon, Mr. Miller,â you chided, voice low, âWhat is it?â
What he was, or what heâd stand to take. It wasnât this.
âKeep runninâ that fuckinâ mouth, Iâll show you what.â
The words flew off his tongue before he could stop them.
It was a reflexâsomething that had been stewing in his mind since the second youâd set foot in his room and went on provoking him. But it was wrong, of course.
He was wrong for even thinking it, much less saying it.
Now your eyes were round, and your mouth was slightly agape, and your brain was likely working a thousand miles a minute to process what had just been said.
Joel had to fix it.
âThatâ that ainâtââ he began, already hating himself.
To his surprise, and embarrassment, a laugh rang out.
Its sound was explosive and short. It split the air with such hot, bitter force that his words dropped off. His gaze had no choice but to remain plastered on yours.
âOh, I bet.â
You grinned, humorless.
You didnât appear shocked in the slightest. In fact, his remark seemed only to embolden you then, as you teased that smile wider, drew yourself closer, and tipped your chin up. You looked doubly enlivened by his last admission. Vindicated in some strange, inexplicable way. Your breaths were warm, and the swell of your breasts came to hover just inches from his chest when the last thing he needed to happen, happened between you next.
You pointed again. Joel didnât need to look down.
ââDonât tell me how to be a father,ââ you repeated his words from before, voice taking on a low, faux baritone.
Your amusement was clear. His cock was hard.
It seemed youâd never let the latter slip past you.
âIs that what weâre gettinâ at here, Mr. Miller?â you asked, tone now precocious. Probing, âYou showing me what a great daddy you are, and me being the mommy you alââ
âNo.â
Joel pushed off. He didnât want to hear another thing.
He headed straight for the door, prepared to usher you out of it. This conversation had taken an irreparable turn.
When he reached for the handle, though, he had to stop. Your voice made him stop, echoing from the opposite end of the room. Joel turned, and he saw you on his bed.
âIâm just curious. Is that really what you meant?â
You were sitting at the foot of it, legs casually hanging off. Your look was innocent, and still more knowing than Joel could bear. The heat left to swirl in his groin nearly suffocated him below the waist, and he inhaled deeply.
âMean what? I didnâtâŠmean anything.â
His touch fell from the doorknob all the same.
Your feet were swinging when he faced you completely.
âJust like you didnât mean for Sarah to call me mommy?â
Maybe he had meant it more than he let on. He couldnât answer. Joel felt every bit the creep he knew himself to beâdecades your senior and letting you rest on his bed, soft, smooth legs kicking back and forth as he watched.
He was good at that, wasnât he? Watching. Waiting. Aching from the comfort of his home office while he watched those filthy clips on repeat, images of you flitting through his mind at every stretch, moan, and whimper. His will was powerless to his perverted needs. He had only to defend himself against their influence by planting his feet firmly in place and refusing to move.
âYou wanna teach me, though. Donât you, daddy?â
It was as though your words reached him from another place. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mindâhis memoryâand the tone of it stirred him. It was familiar, in ways you couldnât have possibly understood. Unless you were living in his head, there was no way in hell you couldâve known what those lines meant to him.
âGonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.â
It made him ache.
Joel still wouldnât move, but you could come to him.
He blinked once, and you were there. Off the bed. Walking to him. Down on your knees in front of him.
This had to be the work of his own sick imagination.
He groaned at just the sight of your smile, curving slow.
And then you peeled off your top, revealing the bright, nylon, cherry-red fabric heâd seen far too many times on his computer screen and off itâon you, by his pool. Joel sucked in a breath and shook his head, gaze darkening.
âThought you didnât wanna play mommy,â he growled.
If this was all just in his head, he could talk as he wanted.
âI donât,â you answered him soberly. Suddenly, your chin was in his hand. Your eyes were still glistening up at him. âBut you need to get this out of your system. Just once.â
Out of his system.
Joel was out of his fucking mind with desire.
âJust once?â His voice cracked as he said it.
Only one time. That was alright. Forgivable.
From what he half-believed to be a figment of his own perverted mind came the word from your lips: âOnce.â
The next had the thumb that was cupping your chin slipping between those same lips. Still smiling while your mouth slid down to his knuckle. You sucked him gently.
And in just one glimpse, one fleeting second on that lone, thick thumb, the sight below him had every other obscene thing entrenched in his memory beat by a mile. You were better than everything else heâd seen or tried to dream up. You were real, he hoped, sliding your shiny wet lips up and down the surface of his skin, and when you pried them off, and you asked for his cock, he had no choice but to oblige. He had to rack his brain for words.
This was his babysitter, his daughterâs companion, hisâ
âSweet fuckinâ girl,â he said when he first felt you there.
Before he even knew what became of his belt, buckle, and zip, the base of his cock was in your hand, and your lips were hovering precariously over the tip. Your breaths were soft and hot. Your graze drank him in with curiosity.
âShould I kiss you here, daddy?â Your mouth lowered.
âRight there, sweetie,â Joel breathed out.
He truly couldnât believe it when the warmth of you enveloped his tip. When the first lick of your tongue came to collect the bead of precum sitting at the slit and he damn near bucked his hips up. You licked at it again.
And again. And again. And again.
You whimpered lightly, enjoying the taste.
The second you pulled your mouth away, Joel hissed.
âBaby, pleaseââ he started, tone strained.
âWhat? Where does daddy want it?â
The question was so innocent.
It was clear you wanted to hear him guide you through it, as evidenced by the way your lips twitched at his hand smoothing down and over the crown of your head. Joel held it like he might never get this chance again, and, at once, his voice lowered along with it. He scarcely recognized himself with how gently he spoke then.
âLet daddy show you,â he said, âOpen your mouth.â
And you did.
Your jaw fell slack, your lips split apart, and your eyes peered up with a wide and open stare. In a look, you seemed already to say that you trusted him to fill it.
No sight on a screen couldâve made him so hard.
He fed you an inch, eyes locked with yours as he did. His cock slid in another, and another, then stopped. He pulled back. The wetness and the warmth of your mouth nearly did him in, and the way you whined for more had him fisting your hair tight. Trying to keep his composure.
âThat alright, honey? FeelâŠnice goinâ in?â
âYes, daddy,â you hummed obediently.
Your mouth opened wider.
âMore, please?â
Your tongue was flattened in a second. Joel slid back in, and his shaft was greeted by the slick, shiny cushion of the muscle underneath. He sank in. He invaded every inch of your mouth he could find, and he breathed out.
âJust like that, sweetie. Takinâ daddy so well.â
What little gurgles he heard stifled between your lips at that, spit drooling gently from either side, he only found more endearing. When he pulled back and saw strings of your spit trail after its path, he felt delirious. You were real, coating the whole throbbing length of his cock with your saliva and your precious soft whines, and you were sweet for him. Pliant for his cock. Jaw obliging and inviting and hanging wide open for him to fuck again.
He let you have it. He slid in once, grazed your throat, slid out again. He cupped your face in his hands and thumbed your cheeks. He coaxed your lips wider for him. You took it all well; you responded to every tender little directive from the man who was stuffing your mouth, âFaster now, atta girlâ and âTake daddy deeperâ and âKeep that pretty mouth open and those eyes on me.â Joel was so caught up in the feel and the friction and the intimacy of every passing moment that he almost didnât see when you started to shift your legs. Parting them.
And, right when the head of his cock had reached the back of your mouth and was teasing down your wet, open throat, he felt it fully: your whimpering plea.
You grinding your cunt against the toe of his boot, and peering up at him with eyes all wet, wide, and needy.
You rutted your hips. It looked like you couldnât help it.
It seemed as though it were a mere spasm of the body that you couldnât controlâlike his cock down your throat was too good for your sense or your oversexed mind to handle. Heâd scarcely stirred in place when he felt you humping him, whines rippling down his length with every bob of your head as you keened for some kind of release.
Joel had never seen anything like it. He didnât know what to say or do except stroke his hand over your scalp and pin you with a look. His cock twitched in your mouth.
âIs that how we ask to get fucked in this house?â
His tone surprised him with how steady it stayed.
Your mouth still full of him, you tried to shake your head.
What came next was more instinct than logical thought; Joel pulled you off his cock and onto your feet. His touch on your body was soft. He couldnât pinpoint a reason for his being so gentle, but every second that elapsed now seemed to demand it. He was teaching you to please. There could be no better place for kindness than here.
Heâd lead you to the bed and guide you down himself. Heâd tell you to open your mouth and then he would kiss it, and lick inside it. Maybe spit inside it, too. Heâd tug at your bikini straps, watch your breasts give way to the pressure of the pull before bouncing right back in place. Heâd take off your top. Latch his mouth around a nipple, swirl his tongue across the skin, and heâd kiss you again.
Joel did all these things, and you let him. You met him with whimpers, with wide open legs, and eventually, with your feet digging into the covers beneath you, begging, âDaddy, please put it in.â Your gaze was febrile as you did.
Whether you meant it, or were simply pretending for him, gave Joel pause. Just as youâd tried to yank your jean shorts down your legs, he dropped his hands to your own. He stopped them in their path. He leaned closer.
âDo you know what you and me are about to do, hm?â
His question was barbed but sweet. Testing the waters.
Were you game to keep playing house? Did you want it?
These things mattered to Joel; whether the wetness between your legs was meant for him and him alone. Whether you needed him there, like the breath in your lungs. He wouldnât fuck you if he wasnât. He might feel lonely at timesâdesperate to feel your cunt squeeze his too-old cock like your life depended on itâbut he was a man who wanted to be wanted, too. An instant of clarity hit, and suddenly he was asking it, plain and in your face:
âDo you wanna do what mommies and daddies do?â
Your mouth fell slack. Again. You nodded.
Either you were the single best actress, or you wanted it. Hoping desperately for the latter, Joel kissed the side of your face. You turned your head, quickly, and captured his lips in yours instead. You pulled him down to you.
âLike this?â you murmured, words muffled against him.
You wrapped your legs around his waist and then ground your clothed lower half with hisâJoelâs cock was tucked haphazardly back in his boxers, and his jeans, unzipped, hung just underneath them around his hips. He felt like a teen again, clothes thrown askew and hormones all wild.
Except he wasnât. He was a grown man, in his own bed, with his child fast asleep down the hall. He thanked his lucky stars that their rooms were as far apart as possible, and that he no longer had to worry about the prying eyes of his mom or dad trying to catch him out after curfew. This wasnât high school, or a night out in college, or the time a condom had split and Sarah had been conceived.
Now if he could just make sure she didnât get a siblingâŠ
Kidding.
âPill,â Joel choked out, just as your legs drew him in to meet your movements, âAreâ are you on the pill, orââ
Am I going to have to hit up a Texaco at 10 PM to get some rubbers and admit I havenât gotten laid in a year?
You grinned.
âIUD.â
That works, too.
Joel probably shouldnât have seemed so eager. He probably shouldnât have taken your face in his hands and kissed you so hard, either. But his skin was ablaze; his eyes were wild; his limbs were molten; and his headâyou didnât want to know where it was. What he was thinking.
What he wanted to tell you while he tugged his cock back out and started working his hand up and down it. It felt too intimate, too depraved, to be spoken aloud.
Then, to his shock, you said the words yourself:
âShow me how youâd make me a mommy anyway.â
If not for protection. If not for common sense. If not for that thrumming, pulsing, warning repetition in his head: Do not get her pregnant. Do not give your kid a sibling.
But this was all pretend, wasnât it?
Joel yanked down your shorts, practically tore them from your legs, and situated himself between them, breathing hard and fast, before he nodded his head and kissed you. With his one free hand, he held the base of his dick, and he guided it closer to your slick, puffy, aching entrance through the barrier of your red bikini. He rutted his hips.
You were bare beneath him, save for that one scrap of fabric between your lower half and his. You smiled, and you wriggled your body against his, and you drew him in. Joel groaned when he felt you slide your bottoms to the slide and let him feel, for the first time, how wet you were. How warm, inviting, and tight that cunt must be and how badly he needed it. How desperately he had to be buried inside that heatâhe all but panted the words:
âCan daddy put it in?â
You spread your legs wider. You nodded.
Then he did. Without one breath of a thought to the contrary, he pushed the head of himself past the fabric, through your folds, into that wet and precious spot heâd only dreamed heâd ever feel, and he let out a full-throated moan. He felt your walls contract, heard the tender little squelch of your body making room for his length, and he damn near blew his whole load right there. You felt good.
Your chest rose with a breath, and your eyes widened.
Like you hadnât just had him down your throat, drenched in your spit and gliding in and out: âHeâs so big, daddy.â
Joelâs lips kissed your cheek. His tip kissed your cervix. You whined a little, and he pulled you in closer to him.
âI know, honey, I know,â he cooed, rocking you with the softest motions, âAinât that what mommy likes, though?â
Your lips parted again. A strangled whine of assent slid out, just as his hips withdrew himself back to that shiny, bulbous head, and then he fucked back in. Back and forth, back and forth, Joel sent your body bouncing with every thrust. He felt you clench, and the strokes sped up.
The bed creaked underneath. It seemed to shake the whole room. In truth, there wasnât a thought in Joelâs head except for the ones relating to you and how good you took his cock, but somewhere, not far off, there was the instinct of a father idling too. With every stab of the headboard against the wall and every moan of yours under him he had to smother with his lips, he was reminded you two had to be quiet. He leaned in.
Grazing your ear with a stubbled chin, and fucking you gently into his bed, Joel sank his weight even lower.
âCan mommy stay real quiet for daddy? Can she try?â
From the way your eyes were glazed, he expected you to nod. And you did, just barely, heels digging in the mound of his ass and your fingers finding his sides. But then you slid a touch up his ribs; you squeezed the flesh. You let him pound your cunt for a few more precious seconds, and just when he thought that was the end of it, you tilted your head to him. Your nose bumped his, and you grinned, flashing the single most pretty, fucked-out look.
âFeels like a fucking dream, daddy,â you breathed.
Joel balked. He almost stopped right then and there.
Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eamâoh, OH!
Oh.
You couldnât have known that.
There was no shot you knew where the fuck those words were from. Or what they meant. Joel furrowed his brow and kept rutting his hips, hands tightening in the sheets beside your head as the scene from his naughty all-time favorite film flickered briefly through his mind. No shot.
Then your legs wound around the backs of his even tighter, and your eyes were all but shining with a fresh, twisted glint. With a measured tone, you went on for him:
âHeâs so big, daddy. Feels so good going inside me.â
You even mimicked her tone. Joel paled above you.
His hips stalled a moment, and your cunt hugged him tight. Your teeth nipped at his chin, playfully, and before he could even try to speak again, your lips were there.
At his ear, whispering what heâd dreaded hearing most.
âYou should really clear those PornHub searches after youâre done. Or at least lock your office while Iâm here.â
Joelâs thrusts stopped completely.
He was about to search for his voice again, when your walls clamped down around him, and his vision went swimming. His cock pulsed inside you, and he groaned.
Then his hips picked up; it wasnât a conscious decision. He just needed to fuck, needed to finish, needed to see the light twinkle and burst behind your eyes while he stuffed your cunt full. It didnât matter what you knewâyour lips were curled in such a sweet, smug smile below him, there was likely no use in trying to explain himself now. Joel just gritted his teeth, and he tried smiling back. He fucked you faster, and harder, than heâd done before.
When you clawed at his back, the pace grew merciless. Every inch of the space around him, it seemed, was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, whimpers, and moans. As before, Joel almost didnât recognize his voice.
âThat so?â was all it could manage to get out at present.
With your cunt fluttering repeatedly, hips rolling with his own, and those lips letting moans spill out one after the next, it was all he could do to try to keep his composure.
Joel kissed you, and then he flipped your body around. He moved back to find the headboard and rest himself against it, got your legs straddling his, and slid you down
Down, down, down on his cock. Stretching you out. Then moving you back up again. Making you bounce in his lap and have your hands fumble to find his shoulders. You squeezed his biceps and moaned, and at the same time, his slick-smeared lower half rutted to greet yours. Your essence drenched him; he could feel it soak straight through the black-and-gray hairs at the base of his cock.
You looked perfect like thisâbetter than any girl on camera couldâve been. Your hips rolled, and you moaned while sliding up and down on his dick, again and again. Joel felt the trembling pulse through your body and his, groaned at the grip of your cunt around him, and helped you ride him. With one hand at the small of your back and the other cupping your face, he held you close to him. Your pace quickened, and the hand at your chin made its way to your throat, to hold you firmly there.
Joel had a thumb on your pulse and his eyes raking over your writhing form when he felt compelled to talk again.
Share a truth, since all the rest was coming out anyway.
He didnât think so much as feel it flow from there, like the blood rushing through his veins. Joel winced at a fresh influx of pleasure and let you grind on him twice more. Then he was gripping you tighter, fucking up into you harder, and he was skimming his teeth along your skin. As a knot coiled deep within his stomach, he let it out:
âWanna cum inside this pussy, baby. Fill her up with me.â
The head of his cock struck a dizzying blow to someplace close to your cervix, and you held him tighter.
âYeah, Mr. Miller?â You couldnât help the teasing tone.
You fought a breathless laugh, then were forced to suck in a gasp of air just as quick; his length sheathed itself inside you completely, and Joelâs grip constricted on your throat. He kissed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth while he fucked up into you, again and again.
You whined, and he mumbled against you, âThatâs right.â
You hissed at him deep in your guts, and he went on:
âGonna stuff her full. Make her wet and messy and drippinâ with me. Show mommy how much daddy lovââ
He cut himself short. His balls were heavy, full, and ready to paint you white, but that line was a touch too far, even now. He couldnât say it outright and not sound like a fucking creep, no matter how deep in this roleplay you happened to be. Joel squeezed your hips and grunted.
And, for what felt like the fifteenth time that night, you surprised him. Your chin tilted to his, your lips brushed against his mouth, and you smiled, again. It was tender.
âHow much does daddy love me, hm? Show me.â
Your walls clenched at the end of the last sentence, and Joel couldnât help but groan in your mouth. His eyes lifted to yours, and in your gaze, he found anything but incredulityâyou already knew what he felt, somehow.
âSarah tell you that, too? That I love you?â he growled.
Heâd said it once. At the time, he hadnât thought heâd meant it at all, but the words just sounded so good when it came to you. Sarah had asked him if heâd wanted you to be her mommy someday, if he loved you like a daddy loves a mommy, and heâd said he did. Looking back, it hadnât felt half as good as it did right now: peering into your eyes, feeling your warmth swallow him whole, and sensing you were nearing your climax, all because of him. It made him want to say it over again, now face-to-face.
Be it roleplay, fantasy, fixationâhe needed to say it now.
âDaddy does love you,â he went on, before you could even respond. His pelvis rutted against yours, and his gaze stayed steeped in desire as he felt you grip harder, âLoves you so damn much he wants to stuff a big load in that pretty little cunt. Make you his. That alright by you?â
Your gaze went blank in an instant. Your lips twitched.
Something delectably wet, tight, and far too tempting shuddered someplace inside you, and with pride, Joel sensed the remnants of it leak out and smear his tummy. You liked that idea. Still, you seemed hesitant as your teeth snagged your bottom lip between them. You drew one steadying breath, and you slowed your movements.
âIâve neverâŠhad that,â you admitted quietly.
Then that sticky-sweet embrace your cunt held him in got even wetter. Like your mind wasnât fully on-board, but your body was all in. You were close, by the feel of it.
But Joel would only give what you were fully ready to take. At length, he lowered one hand to the small of your back, and his thumb rubbed at the skin. He let you feel him in only the shallowest of strokes, bouncing you softly
âAinât gotta be inside, then,â he murmured, assuring, âIâll shoot this load wherever mommy tells me to go, alright?â
That made you whimper.
From there, your mind seemed to be decided all at once.
âCum inside. I-I want it.â
Joel swallowed thickly.
âYou sure, sugar? I canââ
Suddenly, your hips were stirring. They started up quicker than before, and your hand was swift to plant itself flat on his chest, as though to stabilize yourself.
âCum. In. Me.â
It was the most decisive, and desperate, youâd sounded all night. Your gaze flitted to his, and in it, he saw a plea.
With a look like that, Joel knew he couldnât make you wait. He wouldnât make you wait. Trying not to smirk as he did, he leaned in and kissed you, and felt you drip more arousal as something knotted in your belly. He smoothed your hair away and delivered the gentlest thrusts from belowâhe knew it wouldnât take much.
âMama goes first,â he prodded. He felt you tense, and clench, and leak a little more down his front, and when the head of cock nicked a soft ridge, he groaned, too. âCum for daddy now and heâll give you his load, OK?â
Then his touch slipped between your legs. You keened.
âDaddy, Iââ you hiccuped, grip tightening like a vice when his thumb found your clit and started rubbing.
Joel circled faster.
âBreathe, baby. Breathe.â
âI canât,â you cried, âFeels tooââ
Good. Your body seemed to finish for you.
It started with a pulse. Then a pinch. A trickling warmth. Joel hardly knew what else to do but keep rubbing that little pearl between your folds, even when you started to gush around his hand. It wet his tummy; it drenched all the hairs around the base of his cock, and still, he kept thumbing your clit and rocking you back and forth above him. He let you cry out and bite his shoulder while your climax tore through you, and though he knew you had to be quiet, he couldnât help but relish the sound. He smiled
âThatâs it. Thatâs my girl. Give it to daddy.â
And, while he also told you to keep breathing and let him have it all, he was right hereâin a matter of seconds, he was slipping off, too. He couldnât hope to try and stop it. With one more pulse of your walls, you groaned and got your wet, spent, needy hole stuffed full of him, just how youâd asked. Joel flooded your insides with his seed and kept you fucked straight down to the hilt so he wouldnât see a drop of himself escape. He hugged you tight and heard you whine at that primal sensation, getting pumped with rope after rope of his cum, then he felt your limbs go limp. Joel kissed the side of your face. He cradled you, held you securely in place, and let the last of his spend paint your walls in a couple more gentle spurts
When it was over, he stroked your back. He sensed the aftershocks of your climax pass through your tired frame, and he made sure not to rock you too hard against him. He just wanted you to feel that he was there, if the heft of his cum and his cock still deep inside you wasnât enough.
His head grew clearer, too. While still drawing short, ragged breaths in time, he managed to find the words that had evaded him beforeâwhat he shouldâve said.
ââMâsorry,â he mumbled into your hair.
You just nuzzled your face deeper.
âDonât be.â
âBut Iââ
Then you tilted your headâenough for your gaze to meet with his, briefly, and tell him all that he needed to hear.
âYouâre a good dad, Joel.â
He opened his mouth, but you were already pressing on.
âAnd I donâtâŠmind if Sarah calls me what she wants for now. Iâm sure youâll find someone great to be her mom someday, and then this whole thing wonât even matter.â
For some reason, the sound of it made Joel wince.
He couldnât quite place the feeling, but he knew he didnât want you thinking that. His grip constricted around you.
âNo,â he muttered, indistinct. Defiant.
âNo?â
You almost laughed.
It was insane, admittedlyâjust last night heâd been dreaming of the feel of you in the grip of his fist, wishing for nothing but his own release and a fleeting thought of your body underneath him, and here he was, doing this.
Youâd said it was a one-and-done deal, and maybe it was.
But for him, maybe, it wasnât. Heâd be remiss not to try.
If you shot him down and left him to pine and meander through the manifold archives of PornHub for the rest of his horny life, that would be alright. At least he had tried.
With these thoughts thrumming through his brain, Joel was about to pull you closer and venture to speak again, when, for the second time, his words were cut short. His voice was presently supplanted by a sound that startled you both, and in a moment, he recognized what it was.
A knock.
âDa-a-a-a-a-a-addy?â
Shit.
He nearly caught a knee to the gut with how quickly you tried scrambling off his lap, limbs revived and frantic and desperate to get your clothes back on before that tiny voice could resume its speechâor get a hand to the door
âYeah, sweetie? Giveâ give daddy aââ âFuck!â he cursed under his breath as he tripped over your shorts on the floor, ââa minute. Iâll be right there. Just gimme a sec.â
Joel fell. You floundered. His hand snagged the edge of the bed before he hit the ground fully, while you set off across the room to fight the strings of your bikini top and wrestle the thing on. The second you sensed that battle was lost, you grabbed your shirt instead. You were just yanking it on, and Joel was just regaining his bearings and about to chuck your shorts your way, when a voice through the door stopped the two of you coldâagain.
To your horror, it was hopeful. Too sweet to be real.
âCan I sleep with you and mommy tonight?â
You couldâve soundly beat Joelâs ass with that pretty, skimpy swimsuit in your grasp and not regretted a thing, if he had to guess by the look you were flashing him now.
He didnât blame you. His hands shot up in silent defense.
âMommyâ mommyâs not here, honey. She went home.â Joel shortly tried, and failed, to keep the pretense of innocence alive, all while dodging the first swing of your bikiniâs bra at his head. He ducked; you struck a lamp.
He jumped back, a wordless grin stretching his lips as he righted that fixture fast. With one look, it seemed to say:
Iâm so, so sorry, baby.
But inside his head, he couldnât help but admit this was a little bit funny. Probably sensing this, you swung again.
âYes, she is! I heard her,â Sarah huffed outside.
Joel was sliding up his jeans. Apologizing with his eyes and also trying not to crack an even bigger smile at you.
âDonât be silly, Sarââ
âYouâre having a sleepover!â she accused.
Well, in a manner of speaking.
Joel had just buckled his belt and redid his zip when a flash of red nylon smacked him in the face. Playfully.
You were evidently beginning to fight a grin like his, dropping the feigned indignation and pacing closer.
âSleeping my assââ you started in a whisper.
And you were about to chase him again, or else propose jumping from the window to get out now and save face, maybe, when Joel felt an old, familiar feeling crop up inside him. Like before, it wasnât the kind of urge he could fight; his instincts took over, and he did it swiftly.
Admittedly, the timing was terribleâbut he kissed you.
He pressed his lips to your own and relished the feeling. He grabbed both sides of your face and walked you back to the bedâthe same one drenched in sweat and your release, which heâd definitely need to change in a minuteâand for a fleeting moment, it was all he needed. Your mouth was on his, grinning a little and promising silently that if Sarah ever does walk in on us, Iâm gonna kill you.
Against his better judgment, he pushed you back on the bed. He dropped his weight over your body and kept the kiss ongoing, feeling need surge inside for something far beyond the physical. It couldnât be âone-and-doneâ here.
But for now, at least, in spite of his feelings, it had to be.
Joel didnât want to let go or stop kissing, but the next second left no room for much else, unfortunately. His daughterâs voice returned, and the words that followed proved impossible to ignore, for either one of you then.
All color drained from his face, and your eyes widened.
âI heard mommy screaming before. Is she alright?â
#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller tlou#ameliaâs wows#ameliaâs rereads#ameliaâs fic recs#AMELIA IS ALSO CRYING#THIS HAS THE FILTH AND THE ACHE AMD THE LOVE I LONG FOR
7K notes
·
View notes
Note
HELLO IM AT WORK
your writing is so incredibly scrumptious I loveeee!
if I may⊠thigh riding Joel? đ«Ł
ââââÛ¶à§ desperate little thing
joelâs got you riding his thigh, desperate and soaked, and heâs loving every second of it. you, on the other hand, are barely holding it together.
warnings: smut, thigh riding, dirty talk, overstimulation, teasing, pet names.
áá âą a/n: scrumptious?! youâve got me kicking my feet. i hope you enjoy this.
áàŒá«
joelâs got you right where he wants youâstraddling his thigh, desperate and aching, your slick making a mess on his jeans. heâs leaning back, arms stretched over the back of the couch like heâs got all the time in the world, watching you grind down, your breath coming in soft, needy little pants.
âthatâs it, darlinâ,â he murmurs, voice thick with heat, âso fuckinâ needy. you gonna cum just from rubbinâ your little cunt on my thigh?â
your hands are gripping his shoulders, nails biting into him, but he doesnât care. all he cares about is the way youâre losing yourself, chasing the friction like youâve got no shame, dragging your soaked folds against the coarse denim, your clit catching just right with every roll of your hips.
âjoel,â you whimper, voice high and breathless, âsâgood⊠feels so goodâŠâ
his hands finally move, sliding up your waist, thumbs pressing into your ribs before they travel lower, fingertips teasing the band of your knickers. âreckon you can do better than that, sweetheart,â he drawls, dragging his lips over your jaw, stubble scraping over your sensitive skin. âwanna hear you, wanna feel you soak me.â
your thighs are trembling, pace stuttering, and he can tell youâre right on the edge.
âsâwhat you want, huh? want me to make a fuckinâ mess of you?â
one of his hands slides between your bodies, fingers pressing against your soaked folds, and he groans at the heat of you.
âfuckinâ hell, youâre drippinâ⊠all this just from ridinâ my thigh?â
you nod, unable to speak, and then he does itâslides two fingers through your slick, finds your clit, rubs slow, tight circles.
you sob his name, thighs squeezing, body locking up as pleasure crashes over you, your hips jerking erratically as you cum, soaking through your panties and all over his thigh.
joel groans, low and rough.
âfuckinâ hell, baby,â he mutters, pulling you down into a deep, filthy kiss, ânext time, youâre gonna ride my cock instead.â
áàŒá«
thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.
442 notes
·
View notes