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[bitchesuntitled]

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on the job

joel miller x female reader

summary: you and joel are forced to work together, but neither of you can get past the others stubborn attitude or contractor!joel and interior designer!reader fuck in a walk-in closet

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, pre outbreak!joel, he’s kind of a huge asshole sorry, teasing, degradation, dirty talk, slightly dubcon, fingering, use of nicknames such as princess sweetheart and good girl, finger sucking, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, sex against a wall, kinda public sex bc it’s on a job site?? pull out game strong with this one

author’s note: based on this lovely request. i made joel a little mean bc it felt right but at the end of the day he will forever be babygirl. also, i know very little about both of these professions so i apologize for any inaccuracies in that department

You liked to think that you were easy to work with, always polite and mindful— pleasant even.

You mostly kept to yourself, especially when you were working on a project alongside others, however, not everyone shared your cooperative mindset.

In fact, you had worked with a multitude of assholes. Men who thought they held some kind of power over you, who flourished under the opportunity to demean and mock your job like theirs was more important, but none of them even held a candle to Joel Miller.

Your paths crossed when you were hired by a pretentious, middle-aged woman in Austin to help design the interior of her new home— a home that was still under construction.

To make yourself familiar with the layout, you visited the site multiple times in the weeks before construction was scheduled to finish.

It was always an easy and uneventful trip. You greeted the workers, took a few pictures, wrote down some dimensions and then you were gone in twenty minutes tops; but that all changed the day you met Joel. 

You waltzed into the house, waving to one of the men you had come to know from your previous visits and then you heard it, a deep berating voice targeted directly at you.

“Who the hell are you and why are you on my site without a fuckin’ hard hat?”

You stopped in your tracks as you were met with an unknown face. 

“Uh sorry. I’m working on an interior design project for the Johnson’s. They told me I was welcome to come check out the space if I needed anything.” You didn’t know why, but your voice was coming out in compliance, the tone hushed. 

The way this man approached you was incredibly entitled and unabashedly rude.

Normally you wouldn’t let some asshole like this get within two feet of you, let alone talk to you like that; but this guy had you questioning your morals for a split second. He was tall, and broad, and handsome. The southern drawl slipping from the smug curl of his lips and the flex of his biceps as his arms crossed over his chest, had your words stuttering.

“Well, until my job is finished, and the Johnson’s have the keys to their front door, I call the shots. And I don’t do well with unexpected visitors walkin’ around while my guys are trying to get work done.”

Your mouth nearly hung open at his words.

You’d barely said a word to him and he was coming at you with a disgustingly brash and assertive attitude. What the hell was his deal?

“Okay...” The word was drawn-out as it fell from your lips in annoyance.

“Well, it’s kind of funny, because this is probably the fifth time I’ve been here, and none of your guys seem to give a rats ass, so how about you let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours.” 

Finally, you had gotten past the stranger’s criminally good looks and stuck to your guns.

There was no way in hell you were going to let him reprimand you for doing your job. Afterall, you had every right to be here. 

“Yeah well, my guys will let you do whatever you want when you’re prancin’ around here in tight little dresses and high heels. You think they’re just bein’ nice for the hell of it?” 

His irritation was masked by amusement as he looked you up and down, dramatically raking his eyes over your body. 

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’d really appreciate it if you could just drop the attitude and keep things professional.” The quality of your voice was stern, juxtaposing the way his eyes on your body had you suddenly feeling a rush of heat throughout your chest.

Anger.

The warmth was an angry fervor, definitely not one of lust or temptation. It was a burning irritation for the man standing in front of you, not a curious warmth for how his eyes clung to every curve of your body, taking his time drinking in any exposed skin.

His smile widened as he watched you falter under his stare. “I’ll drop my attitude when you drop yours sweetheart.”

“Listen, Mr-“

“Miller. Joel Miller.”

“Okay, Mr. Joel Miller. I have work to do, so I’m just going to walk past you, take a few notes and I’ll be out of your hair. Deal?” 

“Fine. But if I see you back here again you better be wearin’ a hard hat. Don’t need any trouble because you trip and hit your pretty little head.” He let his eyes wander down your body once more, his voice full of sarcasm.

“Yeah yeah, got it boss.” You scoffed as you pushed past his broad frame. You didn’t turn to look back, but you could practically feel his eyes burning into you as you swayed into the entry way, hoping it was the last time you’d ever have to speak to him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

You ran into Joel a few more times, each meeting more infuriating and demeaning than the last. He always had a smart comment on his tongue or a mocking intention in his voice. 

Joel Miller had quickly become the bane of your existence; yet, for some reason there was a part of you, deep down, that always hoped to run into him when you went to scout out a new project for the house.   

Maybe because he was undeniably handsome, always walking around with a charming smirk on his lips and a devious glint in his big brown eyes. It was almost as if he were challenging you— seeing how far he could push you before you snapped. 

He continued to test your patience as you now stood in the giant walk-in closet off the primary bedroom.

You were trying to establish a color scheme sophisticated enough to fit Miss Johnson’s impossible to please pallet while Joel was making unnecessarily loud noises across the room.

He was far from graceful, the slamming and pounding of tools was all you could hear as he worked on one of the many intricate shoe shelves on the wall.

“I thought this side of the house was done.” You were speaking without looking in his direction, your eyes following the paint swatches on the wall. 

“Was.” Joel’s voice was gruff as he continued working.

“Until the queen decided she needed more storage for all her designer shit.” He was chuckling at his own words, side eyeing you from his spot kneeling on the floor. 

“You are genuinely the most unprofessional person I’ve ever met.” You dismissed his rude comment about the woman you were both employed by.

“That right?”

You refused to look at him, but you could hear the delight in his voice. 

“Absolutely.” Your response was curt, a quick and straight-forward delivery.

“Good.”

As if you couldn’t hate him more, the word leaving his lips had you turning your head sharply in his direction, an appalled expression plastered across your face. 

“God you get on my last nerve.”

“That right?” Again, his lips tugged into a smirk as he looked at you. 

You raised your brows in annoyance with a single nod of your head at his question.

“Good.” His voice was taunting as he watched you shake your head in frustration. 

You brought your eyes back to the wall in front of you, not giving Joel another second of your attention.

After a few seconds of silence his deep voice broke into the room. “You know, if you weren’t so uptight, maybe I’d ask you out for a drink sometime.” 

It took you a minute to register his words. Was he implying that he wanted to ask you on a date while insulting you at the same time? What a fucked-up, backhanded compliment; one that had your chest stirring with warmth.

“Well, I guess it’s too bad I’m such an high-strung bitch then.” Sarcasm dripped from your words as you kept your eyes trained ahead, your head spinning from Joel’s implicit interest. 

“I doubt you’d last one minute in the bar I’d take you to anyway.”

His comment had your head snapping back again. This time his eyes were already on you, waiting to see a reaction. 

“And why’s that?” Your voice cut through the room at his assumption. 

“Because it’s not exactly a five star establishment, and I think you’re just like all these pretentious fucks you work for.” He raised an eyebrow at you before turning back to the shelf in front of him, tending to a few finishing touches. 

“Always so put together, walking around here with your shoulders high.” He was nonchalant as he criticized you, hands busy taking measurements, not even paying an ounce of attention to the dirty look you were currently shooting at him from the other side of the room. 

“You think you’re better than everyone, but you’re just another pretty face with an overblown ego.”

There it was. The final blow that had your body tensing with anger.

You couldn’t believe that just a few seconds ago you were letting him flatter you, swooning under the smallest inkling of positivity he threw your way.

He was the worst kind of guy, the kind that built you up just to tear you down. The kind that wanted to make you feel worse about yourself so you would go running to him for a semblance of positive reinforcement.

Joel Miller liked the chase— thrived off being such a douchebag that women somehow ended up falling on their knees for him. But you, you weren’t going to be that woman. 

“Me? Talk about a massive-fucking-ego, take a look in the mirror Miller. You’re the one always making sure I know my place around here, acting like a fucking sociopath. It’s like you get off on being an asshole.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked directly at you, his expression unreadable, like your cruel words caused a switch in him to flip. 

“Maybe I do.”

“What?”

“Maybe I like gettin’ under your skin, watchin’ you get all flustered.” He spoke slowly, setting down his materials and standing to his feet.

“Think it’s kinda cute. You’re always tryin’ to act all big and bad, but I know I make you nervous. I can see it in the way you look at me.” He didn’t move, the smirk on his face causing your eyebrows to furrow in irritation. 

You crossed your arms over your chest, standing strong on your opinion that Joel was the world’s biggest asshole. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting his words get to you.

“You can stop wherever you’re going with this. I’m not here to play your little bullshit games, I’m here to do a job and get paid.”

“Who says you can’t have a little fun on the job?” His voice was laced with a deep seriousness as he set his tools down on one of the many shelves adorning the walls. You watched him over your shoulder but kept your back turned, your body still facing the wall.

“Turn around.” The command left his lips and you wanted to laugh at his attempt of authority but the sincerity in his voice stopped you in your tracks. 

“What? No-“

“C’mon sweetheart, I think we both know you like bein’ told what to do.” His voice cut you off, the signature smirk on his lips sending a buzz straight to your head.

You didn’t mean to, or maybe you did, but your body turned to face him, watching intently as he continued speaking. His broad frame emphatic as he stood across from you.

“I bet you like it, having someone boss you around. Makes you feel a little inferior.”

As the words left his lips he began walking toward you.

It was a casual stroll, not intense or threatening, yet you felt your pulse racing and your posture slumping at his advances.

“Oh please. You need a reality check Joel.” 

“Wanna give it to me princess?”

You kept the appearance of control as he continued moving forward, but internally you were fighting feelings of complete disarray.

You wanted to be offended— maybe even slap him across the face for his wildly inappropriate nickname and the implication of his words. But instead, you froze, his body now less than a foot away from yours and his words ringing in your ears. 

There was absolutely no denying the way his statement had your thighs clenching and your head spinning. Something in his delivery, smug and dirty with his eyes holding a perverted hunger and a promise of follow through, made you weak.

You kept your body from jolting when you felt the touch of his hand wrapping around your waist, finding purchase dangerously low on your back. 

“Bet you’ve never done anythin’ like this.” His voice was sturdy— rigid with power.

The weight of his hand was rough, his palm resting just above the curve of your ass. His touch was heavy yet temperate as he held you, softly pulling you’re your body further into his. 

“Lettin’ some guy you barely know put his hands all over you.”

You watched his eyes carefully, your lips parted but you couldn’t find any words to fill them. You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him to stop or keep going. 

“Bet all the guys you hook up with are just as prim and proper as you. Can’t imagine that those dipshits graduating from UT with a business degree are fuckin’ you the right way.”

His other hand came to the small of your waist, the movement sending a faint gasp straight to your lips. Your reaction had Joel smirking, reinforcing his grip on your body.

“Probably don’t even know how to get you off.” 

“You’re disgusting.” Your voice was a whisper. The insult that you meant to hurl his way dissolved in a pitiful sigh at the way his fingertips were latching onto you.

“Am I? Bet you like that too.” This time he leaned in, causing his words to land directly in your ear, his breath warm on your neck.  

“Bet you want someone a little rough around the edges. Someone to fuck you real nice.” 

As he spoke, his fingers curled into your body. His grip on you constricting.

His frame pushed into yours, sending you shuffling backward until your back was met with the solid friction of the wall.

“Joel..” 

You were searching in your mind, trying to form an articulate sentence to explain why this was wrong; why you couldn’t be in this position with him.

But he had you trapped against the weight of his body— big and wide and rough.

Every single rational thought in your head dissipated, replaced by an instinctual need to have him fuck you against the wall of this ridiculously expensive closet.

He was right, you’d never done anything like this and the excitement of it— the risk, had your entire body burning with white-hot desire. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His hands were holding your hips, pressing you into the wall with his chest dangerously close to yours. 

“But I don’t think you want me to.” For a single second you could see an indication of honesty in his eyes as he looked you over, searching for any sign of distress on your face. And when he couldn’t find it, his stare narrowed and his hands held tighter, rotating your body in his grasp until your chest was pressed against the wall. 

“I think,” He leaned into you, your ass pushing against the bulge in his jeans as his hum landed on the skin right beneath your ear. 

“You want me to lift up this pretty little dress and fuck you nice and hard right here, against this wall.”

His hands found the hem of your dress, bringing it up just enough to bunch at your waist.

Your lower half was almost bare, the only clothing keeping your cunt from being fully exposed to him was the little black thong encasing the dripping mess that had now built up between your legs. It didn’t stop him from reaching between your bodies, pressing his thumb against your clothed entrance. 

“Fuck- you’re soaked princess.” The first word was a prolonged throaty groan, the rest of the sentence fumbling behind it. 

“How long you been thinkin’ bout this huh? Me touchin’ you, makin’ you beg for it.” He was having too much fun playing with you through your panties, his thumb threatening to dip into you even with the lace still covering your entrance.

He pushed against it, moving between your clothed folds and marveling at the wetness seeping through the material. 

“I’m not begging.” You managed to hiss out a response, turning your head to peer at him, your cheek nearly pressing against the wall. 

“Oh, so she’s always mouthy huh?” 

You watched the diabolical grin eat away at his face from the power trip of having you trapped under his weight.

You could talk-back all you wanted— be as bratty and uncooperative as possible, but it didn’t change the fact that he had you right where he wanted you. 

“Keep talkin’ baby, go on.” He innocently raised his brows at you, his voice taunting as the weight of his thumb danced between your legs.

“I Know you want this too. You act like you can’t stand me, but I see the way you look at me…” Your voice was quiet but strong as you held onto the last bit of composure you had left, using it to defy the man at your back.

You were trying your best not to lose your train of thought as you spoke. You wouldn’t give up the fight that easily, succumbing to his tempting words and lewd touches. You could tell Joel was used to getting his way and every muscle in your body ached to challenge him. 

“The way your eyes are glued to my ass every time I walk past you.” You glared over your shoulder as the words drifted off your lips in a gentle accusation. 

His dark chuckle filled the room as his eyes darted away from yours for a short second. Then his stare was back on you— more intense than before. The two of you watching each other, sitting in a pool of mutual revelation. 

You both knew it.

You knew since day one that there was a shared attraction, an unspoken sexual tension hidden behind rude words and unsavory exchanges.

What was happening now was just a detonation of built-up pressure that had been stewing for weeks; evident in the wetness at your core and the bulge in Joel’s jeans. 

“Anythin’ else you wanna say? Should probably get it all out before I have you all fucked-out on my cock.” His voice dropped to a low whisper as he hooked his thumb into your underwear, pulling the material to the side, not even bothering to take them off completely. 

A soft gasp slid from your lips at the cool air meeting your newly exposed center, the slick pooling at your entrance only adding to the airy sensation. 

“You’re so fucking arrogant.” 

The words barely left your lips when you felt his touch meet your core, his fingers spreading your arousal.

You had more to say to him, you wanted to tell him how annoying he was and how you had lost every ounce of decency by letting him talk to you this way, but the words were caught in your throat as he pushed two fingers into you. 

“Maybe I have good reason to be.” 

Your eyes were squeezed shut at the unexpected feeling of him filling you with his fingers, yet you could hear the smirk dripping in his voice.

“You ever think about that sweetheart?”

His words were impatient, the initial drive of his fingers into your entrance was rough, but now they slowly worked into you. His movements were careful— cautious even.

It was as if he wanted to take his time, watching your body and listening to the shaky breaths leave your lips.

His hand worked between your legs, searching for the exact technique that would send you spewing profanities and crumbling against the wall.  

He curled his fingertips at just the right spot, not too deep and not too forceful, just a gentle pulse that had an impulsive whimper pouring from your chest.

“Maybe I’m so arrogant because I know I’m good at what I do.” His words held a double meaning as he added a third finger to stroke your newfound sweet spot.

You almost yelped from the stretch, but you held it back as best you could, refusing to give him the gratification of your submission. 

The position he had you in; back arched and ass pushed out, made it almost embarrassingly easy for the addition of a third digit as he watched them to sink into you.

You couldn’t help but hum in approval as he stroked you repeatedly, rubbing against the inviting drawl of your walls. You tried not to lose yourself at his fingertips, knowing from the familiar coil of pleasure in your core that he could have you coming on his fingers at any given moment. 

“Thought you were gonna fuck me, huh?” Your voice was a string of moans as you tried your best to form a coherent sentence with his hand pushed between your bodies. 

As much as you didn’t want his movements to stop, you also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you finish when he’d barely even gotten his hands on you.

Knowing Joel, he would never let you live it down. He’d ride around on his metaphorical high horse and crown himself the king of female orgasms. So instead of letting him bring you to the precipice of release, you met him with a phrase of defiance. But your challenging words were really just a gateway to get what you wanted. You could put on a tough act, but at the end of the day Joel was right, you did want him to fuck you in way no one ever had— hungry and hard against the wall, right here in your client’s house.

In fact, the thought of it had taken over every fiber of your being. The anticipation of feeling him rail into you was clouding your judgement and coursing through your veins at an alarming speed. 

“Think you can take it?” His growl stuck in your ears as he pulled out of you. The lewd noises of his fingers plunging into the slick mess at your folds was quickly replaced by the sound of him fumbling with his belt buckle. 

“How d’you want it, huh baby? You the sentimental type? Want it nice and slow and deep? Or d’you just wanna be ruined? Want someone to be a little rough with ya?” He was asking, but you couldn’t help but note the rhetorical quality of his words as you heard the rustle of his jeans pushing down his thighs. 

“That’s sweet of you to give me choice, maybe you don’t like control as much as I thought- “

Your sarcastic remark was cut short at the abrupt stretch of Joel’s length slamming into you.

“Rough it is then.” His voice was a deep grunt echoing from behind you as he paused, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling back out and thrusting into you again. 

“Shit princess, didn’t think you’d be this fuckin’ tight.”

His voice swam with amusement and pleasure as he watched the way his dick fully disappeared into you with each thrust of his hips.

Hands pulled at your waist as you felt Joel drive deeper with every breathless groan floating off his lips. 

“Look at you, takin’ me like such a good girl.” The words weren’t sweet, instead they teased you, shooting out of his mouth with a mocking tenor. 

You couldn’t keep your body from reacting to his praise, albeit contemptuous, the words still held a deep truth about the situation unfolding against the wall of your shared employer’s closet. 

“Oh, you like that don’t ya? When I tell you what a good girl you are?” His voice was a broken growl of grunts and sighs as he fucked into you— vigorous and desperate.

His pace was unrelenting as he held onto your waist, pulling you back to meet him with every drive of his hips into yours. 

He let one of his hands travel up your body until he was reaching for your jaw, tilting your head up and back until your body was arched at a sinful angle.

“See, I knew you just needed a good fuck.” His groan was right in your ear now that he held your head close to his, the grip he had on your jaw was firm.

It was becoming impossible for you to keep quiet, the strength and depth of his thrusts were causing explicit moans to skate past yours lips.

The hand that Joel was using to hold your face was now maneuvering to your mouth in an effort to muffle the obscene sounds rolling off your tongue. Two of his fingers pushed at your lips, hooking into your mouth. 

“Knew that little attitude a’yours was all for show.”

You closed your lips around his digits as he railed into you, a guttural moan sliding up your throat and humming onto his fingers. 

“Fuck.” His fowl groan was a direct result of your soft mouth sucking around his fingers, mimicking the way you had his cock encased between your legs.

You invited his touch onto your tongue, swirling around his thick digits and sucking him in deeper, earning a prolonged sigh from Joel as he fucked into you even harder.

Each stroke of his cock had your body pressing further into the wall— his pace was mean and unyielding, like he had something to prove. 

With the hand not in your mouth, Joel reached around your body, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing quick careless circles over the bundle of nerves.

Your body faltered under his touch, your knees slightly buckling, and if it weren’t for the weight of his body trapping you against the wall, you’d be a puddle on the floor. 

He slowed his pace slightly, taking his time to find that spot along your walls again. The one that he discovered just minutes ago when he was three fingers deep in your dripping cunt. 

Whines of approval vibrated against the pads of his fingertips still pressing down on your tongue. His hips began rocking into you at just the right angle— slow and deliberate, with the goal of feeling you coming undone on his cock. 

“That it baby? Right there?” Again, his words were a sadistic tease, but his voice gave way to pitiful throaty whines.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think with the way he was working you toward your release.

Everything felt so overwhelming, his unrelenting thrusts hitting you in the perfect place, his touch on your clit, rough and impatient and his fingers filling your mouth— all of it creating the perfect storm of inconceivable pleasure. 

A jolt of relief surged through your body as the pressure inside you snapped. You let yourself fall further into the wall as Joel’s name slipped from your mouth in a chant.

Hearing his name on your lips in such a distant and dazed voice, had Joel’s cock pulsing. Your walls were clenching from your climax, sucking him in deeper and he couldn’t handle the abundance of warmth enveloping him. 

Both of his hands came down to your hips, fingers digging into your skin as held tight.

His thrusts were merciless as he used you to reach his peak, chasing the familiar buildup of tension in his core as he drove into you at a startling pace. 

Then he pulled out abruptly. 

One hand on his cock, stroking just twice before spilling onto the skin of your lower back, the other pushing your dress further up your body to keep it from becoming a jizz painted mess. 

Silence filled the room.

Neither of you spoke as your hands pushed against the wall underneath your palms. You stayed pressed there, Joel’s body still behind you evident in the ragged breaths leaving his chest. 

Still no words were exchanged as you felt Joel take a step back, the warmth of his presence fading just slightly.

You dared to break your pleasure induced trance to look over your shoulder, only find him pulling his jeans back up his body and tightening his belt without even sparing you a glance.

You began to move until you were reminded of the thick warm mess resting on your back, keeping you from pulling your dress down.

Before you could do anything, Joel was back behind you, hooking his fingers into the waist band of your panties and tugging them down your legs. He stopped at your ankles to tap against your skin, prompting you to step out of them.

Once the lacy material was fully in his grasp, he brought them up to your lower back, using them to gather his spend. He cleaned his mess with the lacy material then pulled your dress back down to cover your lower half. A sticky residue was left on your backside as a plaguing reminder of what had just transpired between you. 

You turned to face him, watching as he crumpled up your ruined underwear and shoved it into his back pocket with a smirk on his face. 

“How about that drink? Could meet you tomorrow night, should be done here around five.” He was back across the room in an instant, gathering tools and not bothering to look in your direction.

His invitation was genuine, but his words lacked interest. 

“I’ll get these back to you then.” His hand came to rest on his back pocket, fingers tapping against the denim holding your used panties.

A self-righteous smile sat on his face as he shot you a look of pure deviance before his eyes were back on his hands as they worked to gather his materials. 

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice came out more flustered than you intended as you smoothed out your dress over your thighs.

Joel was heading for the closet door, tool bag clutched in his hand as he gave you one last gaze of victory.

“It’s a date.” The words were a grumble from his lips, the same ones that were busy parading a smug smile. 

Then he left you standing alone in the small room, your mind racing around itself and your legs still trembling.

A subtle grin rested on your face as you stared down at the floor, trying to find some sort of equilibrium before even attempting to move.

The giant walk-in closet still encasing a lingering heat of reckless choices as you prepared to go on with your day— business as usual.

my masterlist

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😭😭

This is so beautifully heartbreaking!

Say You'll Remember Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 1500+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: This one came to me right after S2 Ep 2 so…beware of sad. Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for beta reading and letting me crush her heart a little

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Joel Miller Masterlist

I remember the first time I saw him. People in Jackson started whispering the moment he and his teenage daughter came through the gates. I caught a glimpse of him through Tommy's mussed up curls as he embraced him, fists pounding on the other's back. I couldn't make him out clearly. 

I remember asking Tommy later that day who he was. “My big brother,” he said with a small smile. “I thought he was dead and here he is!” 

I remember literally bumping into him later that night, his strong hands gripping my shoulders to keep me steady. His eyes find mine, and I remember momentarily forgetting to breathe. He was older than me, greys streaking through his hair. His eyes were big and brown and sad. 

I remember hearing his voice, gruff but soothing, a drawl like Tommy's spilling from his lips. “Are you alright?” I think I nodded. I know I smiled like a damn school girl. “All set.” Yeah. That's what I said. I remember being so embarrassed, but a tiny smirk ticked up the corner of his mouth. “Alright then.” 

I remember looking for him the next day but instead finding Tommy, who told me he and his daughter, Ellie, had left. Not his daughter but may as well be. Some sort of quest. He didn't give me details and I didn't ask. 

I remember thinking of him often. I never had a man have this effect on me before. I found myself wondering if he would come back. And if he did, would I have the courage to speak to him?

I remember the spring day when he returned, Ellie and him. Something was different. Changed. I didn't know what but I was so thrilled to see him again that I didn't pay it any mind at that moment. 

I remember talking to myself in the mirror, hyping myself up to bring him a cup of coffee. I don't drink it as often as others, so I had a bit of a stash left from our last run. 

I remember him opening the door when I knocked, his eyes still sad but focused fully on me, until he saw the coffee I held out. I remember the way his eyes lit up, the smile that crossed his face, and I remember thinking how beautiful he was. 

I remember bringing him coffee every day for 2 weeks before Maria pulled me aside, her belly big and round, and told me to “Stay away from Joel Miller. He's not a good man.” I remember I didn't give a fuck what she'd said. Lucky for me, she went into labor not too long after and was busy with a newborn. 

I remember our conversations on his front porch that eventually moved inside. He started making me breakfast. And when he learned that I was giving him my ration of sugar for his coffee, he added bacon to the mix. 

I remember the first time I heard him laugh, head thrown back, belly shaking, tears running down his face. I vowed to myself to try and make him laugh like that as often as I could. 

I remember the first town party we went to, the first dance we had. I remember that's when it shifted, from friends to…something more. He looked down at me, his eyes glancing down at my lips before he pulled away. 

I remember following him all the way to his house, standing on his porch as he told me he was too old for me. I remember telling him that I was 35 and didn't care. 

I remember the first moment his lips touched mine. Hesitant at first, then desperation. Slightly chapped but still so soft as he kissed a path down my neck. 

I remember the first time he laid between my thighs, making me feel things I'd never felt before. I remember laying with him after, my head on his chest listening to his heart and thinking that I never wanted to leave. 

I remember us officially making our couple debut in town, how Tommy clapped him on the back and winked at me. How Maria rolled her eyes but still always supported us. 

I remember we bickered sometimes, but we always made up. 

I remember the sadness creeping back in the further Ellie pushed away from him. “Give her time,” I'd said. After all, she's still a teenager. 

I remember watching as he helped fortify and expand Jackson. The way his muscles pulled under his shirt, the sweat dripping from his brow. I remember the massages I'd give him and the sounds he'd make, both from the massage and when he slid between my legs. 

I remember being happy. 

I remember that morning. It was cold. Likely a blizzard coming through later. I remember him pressing a kiss to my forehead as he left early for patrol with Dina. I remember grabbing his wrist and begging him to stay in bed with me. 

I remember him saying he loved me and that he'd see me later. 

I remember the day going by and going about my chores, preparing our home for the blizzard that had already crept over the horizon. I remember hoping he and Dina and the others on patrol would find a safe place to wait out the storm.

I remember waking. I must have fallen asleep. The day was late and he wasn't back. 

I remember the pit in my stomach that appeared out of nowhere. I remember thinking something isn't right. 

I remember the knock. The sound was small but it echoed in my head. I remember wanting to be sick. 

I remember the look on Tommy's face right before he told me and my world split apart. I remember crumbling to the floor, a wail I'd never made before clawing it's way out and down the street. I remember Tommy joining me, holding me while we both mourned. 

I remember seeing him laying on a table under a sheet. I remember seeing his knuckles, bruised, chapped, and bleeding. I remember grabbing his hand, hoping that he'd jump up and announce the world's worst joke ever. I remember nearly vomiting at the coldness of his hand. I remember Tommy telling me not to look under the sheet, begging me not to. 

I remember ignoring him. 

I remember pulling back the sheet and seeing his broken and battered face, his blown out kneecap, the broken bones. I remember screaming and crying, rage filling me and spilling over. I remember yelling as loud as I could for as long as I could. When I couldn't rage anymore, I planted a soft kiss on his forehead. 

I remember getting a bucket of water and a cloth, gently cleaning him of all the dried blood. I remember Tommy coming in while I was doing this. He said nothing but returned a short while later with one of Joel's favorite outfits that we put on him. 

I remember the funeral. I don't remember the words said but I remember watching them lower him into the ground, half of me going with him. I stayed there long after the sun went down, staring  at a tombstone that simply read JOEL MILLER. 

I remember how quiet the house got. And how loud that silence was. No puttering about in the kitchen, tinkering with random things. No making breakfast. No sound of boots on the floor. My bed was cold and empty. I remember sleeping in his shirts just to feel him with me. And then I would wake up and remember. 

I remember a couple months later when I realized I was pregnant. “How can I do this without him?” I cried in Tommy and Maria's arms. “He didn't even know! Maybe if he knew, he wouldn't have gone on patrol and then he'd….he'd..” Tommy told me to not think that. Those people had it out for him and they'd have come one way or another. 

I remember so many nights crying for him, the hole in my heart the same size as it was the moment Tommy knocked on my door. Ellie came back inside the house then, helping me when I needed it. 

I remember calling for him when I was giving birth. I yelled for him to be here and out she came, our daughter, Sarah. The moment she was laid on my chest, she turned and looked at me and I saw his eyes staring back out at me. And it was then I realized. 

It's my job to remember. 

Remember how she looked at birth. Her first steps. Her first food. Remember how she mispronounced words, what her favorite book was, how she fell out of the tree in the backyard and nearly broke her arm. How she was just as stubborn and headstrong as him. How she met a boy and fell in love. How they also had a child and we became grandparents. How those grandkids are and what joy they bring to my life. 

I remember sitting in my chair, looking out into our backyard at the tree he'd carved our initials in claiming the house as our own. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and look up into beautiful brown eyes that I'd seen every night in my dreams. 

“Hey sweetheart. All set?”

I can't wait to show him what I remember. 

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✨Bipolar✨ 😁

deep rooted respect for women who openly get mad and are okay w being perceived as bitchy

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i think a lot of shows that are based on 911 services (the 🏥👮🏻‍♂️🚁💪👩‍🚒🚑🔦💥⚖️ genre) show different workers having camaraderie w and unconditional support for the cops, like yeaaa everyone on the frontlines respects the boys in blue and knows society would be in the gutter without them 💯

and the pitt is just like. well tbr the cops and social services are in and out of the ER a lot, and there’s basic cordiality and cooperation and 1 instance of flirting. but that MCI hits and the cops are 1 (one) guy who got shot and 10 performative idiots who are literally standing IN THE WAY, stressing out and slowing down the doctors, who are the only ones actually HELPING, and then they somewhat understandably tackle the wrong guy as a suspected shooter, and then they try to ARREST one of the doctors who just saved 20 lives bc she broke parole conditions to do so…. unfeeling enforcers of a purely punitive criminal system… and THEN they only back down when another COP is like “well she did save our boy. in particular. she saved a cop.” and they’re like WELL IN THAT CASE

there’s no liberal monologue or lesson abt defunding the police and funding kiara instead and there probably won’t be on this show. but the pitt casually displays 9/10 cops as useless macho assholes who fuck with more important emergency workers whenever they feel like it. hilarious and real

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HEY EVERYBODY!

Bug I’m so sorry!!! 😭🫂

it’s me strang3lov3 :(

My blog was fucking terminated! uhhh but it is me, strang3lov3. pervert extraordinaire and writer of dark daddy!joel and stepdaddy!roman. I don’t know what the fuck to do. I’m trying not to panic but I am fucking crushed.

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Shortie, I thank you so much for this 🥹

This is exactly what I and so many others needed right now ❤️

Them or Us

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Let's rewrite Joel's story together, shall we?

Warnings: language, graphic violence, character death (not Joel or Ellie), blood, guns, knives, angst, guilt, reader is a badass

A/N: if you are an Abby fan, I suggest skipping this one.

"Ellie! This way!" you shout over the howling wind. She twists around in her saddle and yanks on the reins, steering Shimmer towards you through the blistering snow.

You point towards the ground — horse tracks, two sets — that head up the mountain.

"Maybe they found shelter there!" she yells, pointing towards an abandoned ski lodge. Years ago you remember clearing it of infected but it isn't part of your usual patrol routes. You nod and dig your heels into the sides of your horse, urging the poor thing through the blizzard and up the treacherous terrain.

You ride the rest of the way in silence. Not that you could hear her anyway, but you both seem to have the same heavy pit in your stomach. You haven't checked out this place in a long time. Anything or anybody could be in there. But Joel and Dina might be in trouble. You had to go.

When you approach the lodge, you bring your horses inside. It's quiet when you slide down from your horse. You exchange glances with Ellie and jut your chin upwards.

"They'd go up high," you say softly. "So they could get a good look at the land."

She nods in agreement before equipping herself with her rifle. You each check that your guns are loaded — long range and side arms — and double check your knives are still hidden in your boots and belts before advancing towards the massive staircase.

Foolishly, you allow yourself to think everything is fine. That they just came in to warm themselves up and wait out the storm. But as you approach the double doors, you hear voices. Ones you don't recognize.

You look at Ellie once again and she shoulders her rifle. You press a finger against your lips and she nods as you creep quietly over the ancient floorboards. Holding your ear up to the door, you listen.

"Because it doesn't matter if you have a code like me, or you're a lawless piece of shit like you," you hear a woman's voice say. You swallow nervously and grip your revolver tighter in your hand.

"There are just some things everyone agrees are just fucking wrong."

You hear footsteps slowly cross the room. It sounds like they are heading in your direction, towards the doors. Your heart slams loudly against your ribs but you are laser focused. The adrenaline in your body sharpens your senses and it's like you can practically see through the doors. You can imagine whoever this is stopping near something by the wall, just feet away from the door where you stand ready on the other side.

You give Ellie one more nod, confirming you're both ready to do what it takes to save the ones you love, and you take a deep breath.

Ellie is first. She kicks the door in and almost immediately gets knocked down by some man standing guard, but somehow you know it's fine. She's not hurt, she just got the wind knocked out of her.

You don't even see Joel or Dina yet. You only see the girl in a grey henley shirt, tucked into her oversized khaki pants, standing in front of a set of golf clubs.

She swivels around in surprise and you lock eyes for one devastating moment. She seems to understand her fate before you. Maybe she sees the pure rage and anger written on your face, one that she herself harbored for five years. Maybe she always knew it would end this way, same as her father.

You raise your revolver and slide one eye shut. It feels like it takes an eternity but it's really only a split second. The girl in front of you no older than Ellie holds her breath. You see fear and helplessness flicker across her eyes before your finger curls around the trigger and a loud bang echos through the vast, open ski lodge.

Blood sprays everywhere and her body drops to the floor with a thud. It seems to have shocked the other four members of the group because there's a moment of hesitation. A small hole burns right between her eyes and thick, sticky blood begins to pool underneath her braid. Her eyes remain open, staring lifelessly at the ceiling.

Ellie is still on the floor, but the man who knocked her down isn't paying attention. You shoot him in the knee and step into the room. Behind you, the man shouts and drops to the floor. You hear the sickening sound of Ellie's switchblade sink wetly into his ear, then the yelling stops.

It feels like you're on autopilot. Like you are barely aware of what you're doing. You feel shockingly calm. Looking back on it, you chalk it up to some primal, baser instinct. You've always heard people are capable of doing impossible things when they are under extreme duress.

This was one of those times.

Ellie clambers to her feet behind you. You can hear her fumbling with her gun, but you pay it no mind.

Three people left.

There's a woman with no hair reaching for a gun leaning against the fireplace. You exhale steadily and take aim — another loud blast, dark red blood sprays the light stone wall, and another heavy body hits the floor.

The last remaining man and woman begin to scream.

The girl with the black hair and bangs charges you with a knife. You turn, expression blank, and raise your gun, but Ellie gets there first.

A bullet lodges itself into the side of her head. You see her face go slack and her eyes roll back before she crumples to the ground. Warm mist sprays you, covers your face and neck, but you don't care.

You swivel on your heel when you hear footsteps running towards the door. The last man. He kind of looked like Tommy, you notice idly. You roll your shoulder, loosening it up, and raise your gun.

You feel completely at peace when you pull the trigger and your bullet sails through the final man's cheek. He yelps and falls to the ground. He stays alive for about thirty seconds, howling in pain, until finally his body stills and silence fills the room.

It was done. Not what you expected to do today, but it's what you trained for — the unexpected. To do what it takes to save your own.

"Oh, shit," Ellie says, holstering her gun and rushing across the room. You turn, heart rate spiking when you snap out of your haze. Ellie is crouching over Joel on the floor. She is hovering over his leg and it's only then when you notice blood pooling underneath him.

"Joel!" you cry out, dropping your gun to rush to his side. With an indescribable amount of relief, you notice aside from the fucking shotgun that blew a hole in his knee, he's otherwise untouched.

"They— they wrapped it up," he stammers. You look and see the belt wrapped tightly around his leg for the first time. You frown, confused, but shake it off.

"Okay," you breathe, "can you walk?"

He nods but his face is prickled with sweat and he looks pale.

"We got the horses downstairs. We- you can ride back with me. We'll be alright," you assure him with a small smile. Next to you, Ellie jumps up. She rushes over to Dina and begins to shake her shoulders, yelling her name.

"She's gonna be out for a bit," Joel grits. You lean down and offer him your shoulder. He wraps an arm around you and you hook your own arms under his to pull him up with a loud groan. He makes a pained sound but he finally is able to stand, leaning against you with his wounded leg hovering in the air.

"They sedated her," Joel explained when Ellie shot him a panicked look. Dina looked pale too, but she was breathing.

"Why?" Ellie asked. Joel shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Can we talk 'bout this later?"

"Ellie, help me get him down to the horses," you say. She begrudgingly stands and gives Dina one more look. "We'll get him on mine and then come back for Dina," you assure her. She nods and ducks underneath Joel's other arm, supporting his weight as all three of you slowly make your way down the stairs to the horses.

It takes a while, but when you have both of them ready, you finally are ready to leave behind the nightmare you almost walked into.

"Jackson," Joel says weakly behind you. You're leading your horse down the mountain, towards the town currently engulfed in flames. You swallow and square your shoulders.

"Tommy's there," you say confidently, "he knows what to do. I'm— I'm sure it's fine."

Half a mile passes in the worst blizzard you've seen in years before Joel speaks again.

"You saved me."

You stiffen but otherwise remain silent, focused on the trail ahead. So he speaks again.

"She was gonna kill me," he continues. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head.

"But she didn't."

His grip around your middle tightens.

"I killed her father," he adds solemnly. You shrug.

"We've all killed people."

A beat passes between you.

"Her father was— was the doctor."

It takes you a moment, but you connect the dots. You remember what Joel told you about that day in Salt Lake City. What he did to save Ellie. What he swore he would do again, if given the chance. A decision you agreed with and still do.

"Well," you sigh, "it was either them or us."

"I deserved it," he says firmly. You nearly turn around a deck him, but you stop yourself.

"Shut the fuck up, Joel."

"It's true," he urges.

"I don't give a shit," you seethe over your shoulder. "We all do bad shit to save the ones we love. It's the world we live in now. Anyone in your position would have done the same thing."

Joel goes quiet again and you glance to the side. Ellie is nearby but the wind is too loud. She can't hear you. Besides, she's too worried about Dina to care.

"Would you have done it?"

"What?" you scoff, "kill whoever stood in my way to protect the one I love?"

You feel him nod against your back.

"Isn't that what I just did?"

You steer your horse through the trees. You're about halfway to Jackson now. The fires have almost been put out. Whatever happened is coming to an end. The next few months will require a lot of work, a lot of rebuilding. Your lives are all once again forever changed, but you've been through worse.

Everything will be fine.

"C'mon," you say to Joel, "let's get you home."

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Absolutely loved this! 😍 The angst, the smut, the ending?! Sooo good! ❤️❤️

wildest dreams

series masterlist • dbf!Dave York x f!reader

joelscurls masterlist • jana’s masterlist

tags/warnings: explicit smut (18+ only, mdni), dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamic (reader becomes very dependent on Dave), dom/sub dynamics, angst, feelings, daddy issues, secret/forbidden relationship, corruption kink, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, Dave doesn’t kill people in this, more specific warnings at the start of each chapter

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates 🫶🏻

chapter one: i can see the end as it begins

chapter two: no one has to know what we do

chapter three: heaven can't help me now

chapter four: nothing lasts forever

chapter five: say you'll remember me

epilogue: say you'll see me again

@joelscurls i love you so much!

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

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This is so fucking good! Looooove me some dark Dave! 🫠🫠🫠🫠

every breath you take

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Dave is investigating a case, but ends up being much more interested in the target's girlfriend.

word count: 1.7k

tags/warnings: dark content!!! stalker!dave, non-consensual voyerism, more things that i don't want to spoil, but if you don't like dark stuff you won't like this okay?, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, divorced dave, allusions to smut, angst

a/n: ...i was in the mood to try my hand at a dark dave, so i did :) written for @punkshort's au challenge, where i got detective!dave, which i took and ran with lmao

so much love to @sizzlingcloudmentality who has received a thousand voice notes over this, kept me from killing everyone, and gave me the idea for the final twist <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

It had started the first time Dave heard your voice, ringing through his headphones as he was sitting at his desk, taking notes on last nights’ recordings. He had just taken on the case, a promise of quiet observational work, gathering evidence. The only requirement to stay invisible. Easy enough.

Your name had popped up in the case file. Romantic partner. Female. Involvement unclear. A note in the back of his head, filed away. That was before he knew you. 

Before he sat at his desk, headphones on, not breathing for what felt like hours. Before he unfroze, straightening his back, digging through the file for a photograph of you. Staring at the blurry pixels, at the sweet smile directed at your boyfriend. 

His line of work had long lost the excitement it gave him when he first started, the buzz that he had once felt when after months of investigation, a case was solved. But this. This was new, this was fun. 

He found himself listening so much more intently when you were present, waiting for your name being mentioned when you weren’t. 

There hasn’t been much fun in his life since the divorce. Not seeing the girls nearly as much as he would like to. Coming home to an empty house in the evening, no traces left of the family life that he always prided himself with. One could say that he’s lonely, he guesses.

It’s late in the evening, his car parked in front of the unassuming suburban house, perfect with a white picket fence, the porch surrounded by carefully maintained flowers. Your work, as he knows by now. It’s so easy, imagining you in his house, so similar to the one you’re living in now.

He should be paying close attention to your boyfriend, should monitor his every step, should take notes, photos if necessary. Instead, his eyes are glued to you. 

Watching you move from the living room to the kitchen, picturing you in the same rooms in his house instead. Reaching up to a cupboard, crouching down in front of the oven, moving around the counters. He grits his teeth when your boyfriend comes up behind you, crowds you in, his hands all over your body. Lips against your neck. You leaning into the touch, a soft smile on your lips. That should be him. 

Maybe, if he tries hard enough, later tonight he’ll look at his own kitchen counter and see you there. Maybe he’ll be able to pretend, even for a moment, that your sweet, sweet smile is directed at him. That your voice rings out with the sound of his name instead of the douchebag that calls himself your boyfriend. 

You deserve so much better. Someone to take care of you, to keep you safe. To love you the way you should be loved. You deserve someone like him and he doesn’t understand how you don’t see that. How you don’t look out the window, spot him across the street, and just know. The way he did. 

Of course things didn’t work out with Carol. How could they, when you were waiting for him? 

But you don’t look out the window. You turn around, a laugh on your lips. Silent, from his vantage point outside of your house, your life. But he knows the sound, knows how beautiful it sounds, how it always brings a smile to his own face. He has listened to it over and over, after all. Maybe, one day he’ll be able to experience both at once, to see your face scrunch up, crinkles forming around your eyes and your nose, while his ears pick up on the pearly sound that he’s gotten addicted to. It’s almost embarrassing, how much longer it takes him to listen to tapes when you’re on them. How often he rewinds, how meticulously he commits every single sound that you let out to memory.

It isn’t lost on him that you love your boyfriend. He’s not delusional, after all. You just don’t know how much better you could have it. It’s not your fault, of course. He understands, he wants to help you, wants to make you see. 

You don’t know who the man you live with really is, he doesn’t think. You don’t know about the blood-stained money that bought the house you live in, don’t question when he comes home late at night, when he leaves the room to make a call. 

Dave would never treat you like this. He’d be so, so good to you. Because he knows you, better than that guy ever will, and he hasn’t even met you. Yet. 

It almost seems too easy. He has dirt, more than enough of it, to send your boyfriend to jail for a long, long time. He could finish up the case. But he likes to keep watching. At least until he knows what to do with you. 

It’s late one evening, the golden light from your living room spilling out across the lawn. Dave’s back is stiff from folding his body into the car seat all day, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay. Just a glimpse of you would be enough. Right now, all he can see is the back of your boyfriend’s head behind an armchair.

As if his thoughts had summoned you, you glide into the room, just as gorgeous as always. Wearing nothing but lacy black underwear, a coy smile on your face, directed at the man that Dave has come to hate. The man who doesn’t deserve your smile, doesn’t deserve to lay eyes on you, let alone touch you. The hands roaming over your skin, pulling you closer until it’s body against body— they should be Dave’s. 

The shutter clicks quietly. No one but him will see these photos, they won’t be submitted to the case file. But he already knows that he’ll be looking at them over and over, pouring over them in the darkness of his home, until every inch, every crevice of your body is seared into his memories. 

You giggle, muted by the distance and the windows separating him from you, but he still hears the sound in his ear as if he was standing right next to you. He knows you. Fingers intertwined, you pull your boyfriend with you, up the stairs and out of view. It stings. He’d be lying to say that it didn’t. But not much longer now. He just needs a plan. 

He has already cleared any evidence that even hints at you possessing any knowledge of the criminal activities surrounding the man that you’re with right now. You won’t go down with him, you’re safe. Of course you are. Dave will always protect what’s his. You’ll see.

Later, when all the lights in your house are turned off and he has returned to his own home, his thoughts race with the image of you. All that skin on display, the smiles and giggles, the teasing. Maybe you do know. Maybe it’s a game that you’re both playing, maybe you wanted him to see. 

He lets the hot spray of the shower rain down his back, the heat slowly easing the hardened muscles in his back. Still, all he sees is you. He doesn’t even need to close his eyes. In his mind, you’re right there with him. It’s his body that you’re pressed against, his fingers digging into your flesh. He almost tastes your soft breaths, feels all the mewling sounds that he could pull from you against his lips. He could give you everything you want, could make you feel better than anyone else ever has. You’re meant for him. 

He’d turn you around, press you against the hard wall, one hand on your shoulder, pulling you back against his body as he fills you up. You’d be so tight, so warm and wet around him. He’d drive into you, again and again, over and over, until the only thing you know is his name. Until he’s everything you’ll ever need.

It happens one week later. You were supposed to be asleep. They were going to intercept your boyfriend before he could enter the house. Dave doesn’t know what went wrong, why the team fucked up like this. 

He runs inside when he hears you scream, standing in the kitchen. Your eyes wide, shining with the image of your boyfriend’s blood slowly spreading across the white tiles. With a wild expression on your face, you make a grab for the knife block. 

It all goes by incredibly fast. In the blink of an eye, Dave’s world comes crashing down around him. One of the men lunges at you, attempting to tackle you to the ground. Your head connects with the kitchen counter in a sickening crunch. A second later, your limp body hits the ground. 

It’s agony, waiting for you to wake up. He lets people think that he’s just invested in his case, that he feels guilty about how things went down. No one interferes when he handles the hospital proceedings, knowing better than to question him. Or when he doesn’t let anyone else near you. Or when he barely leaves your side, staring at your unconscious face, your hand weak in his. 

He listens attentively to the doctors, his brows knitted deeply, his lips pursed in worry. No part of it is fake. If his eyes widen at the words memory loss, the only plausible reason is his deep concern for you.

When your eyelids flutter open, when your gaze finds him for the very first time, his heart is racing in his chest. He squeezes your hand, resists the urge to smooth out the crease on your forehead. 

“Thank god you’re awake,” he breathes, not able to stop a smile from growing on his face.

You exhale sharply, pure confusion painting your features. So helpless without him. 

“W— who are you?” 

“I’m Dave, baby. Your fiancé, remember?”

A slow shake of your head, your brows pulling together. Quietly echoing his name back to him, more like a question.

Until the only thing you know is his name. Until he’s everything you’ll ever need.

thank you for reading, aaaahhhhh! i have never written anything really dark before and i'm a little nervous tbh, so please let me know if you liked this <3

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Eeep! This was such a good follow up for Forget Me Not 😍

violet pairing: older qz!joel x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: follow-up to forget-me-not. it's been seven years since you last saw joel in the boston qz, and a lot has changed. you find yourselves reunited in jackson.

warnings: smut, actually contains a lot of plot (sorry), tommy, maria & ellie all exist, allusions to/discussion of abortion, reader has a kid, joel is insecure about being an old man (you're only 63, it's ok buddy), reader is mid-thirties to early 40s, lil bit of daddy kink, face sitting, multiple orgasms.

a/n: okay first -- header or no header? like, it's a bit ridiculous but i also kinda love it? instead of packing up for a move, i've been writing this 🤷 thanks for all the continued love on my fics, it's so sweet and means a whole lot. working on a few other stories, and i hope to have more out soon!

this chapter is dedicated to the dumbass at the club who didn't quite manage to ruin a first date i was on by asking us what we thought about gay rights (as two fem-perceived folks caught smoochin) and then telling us "you're clearly so in love, i respect that" before yeeting off in the moonlight.

you could have sworn the terrain had been totally empty only moments before, but now in the blink of an eye, you’re surrounded by a small group of riders, armed, their horses huffing down at you. 

“shit,” you gasp, trying to shield your girl, but realising there was little use. can’t put your body in front of hers when there’s people on every side of you. instead, your hands grip tighter on the shoulders of your daughter and you take a breath, trying to steady your breathing.

“you been near infected?” a man calls down at you, and his accent reminds you of joel, so much so that your heart flutters for a moment at the memory. you’ve met lots of people on your travels, a few of them from austin, too, and every time you think of him.

“no,” you call back, “last we saw them was back in the dakotas and there weren’t many there. that was weeks ago, haven’t encountered any since.”

the man nods, and you’re not sure what he’s thinking under his stetson, but the fact you’re not shot yet seems like a good sign. hopefully.

"frankly, we've had much more trouble from people than from infected on our way. but we've been able to take care of ourselves," you say, and you're hoping your words have an underlying edge of danger, but you're pretty sure you just come off as scared and defensive.

the man nods, and looks you up and down. “well, we've gotta make sure,” he says, almost apologetic, and you tense. it takes a moment before you see the dog, but then a dark blur comes bounding towards you, snarling. You tense and pull your girl close, but after a few moments of incredibly stressful sniffing, the dog leaves you alone and trods back to his owner, panting happily.

“good,” the man says, “now we've got that cleared up, what’s your business here?”

it's a good fuckin question, but not one you have a direct answer to.

"we came from boston," you tell him, "it was okay for a while, but the qz changed--got worse. more bombings. more hangings. if it was just me i might have stayed put, but i have my daughter."

there's so much you could say, but you're pretty sure you're advocating for your own life right now, so you keep it short and simple.

"we're just trying to find... somewhere better. travelling through all the places i've ever known people, to see if there's somewhere safe out there at all."

he nods, and the group surrounding you seems to back down a little.

"come with us. i think we might have what you're looking for," he tells you, and then one rider jumps down from their horse, mounts another, and the first man helps you and your daughter onto the vacated horse.

you follow the group, cantering along, and the man keeps an eye on you, and a woman in the group rides up next to you.

"so, you're from the boston qz? that's quite a journey," the man says, and nods his head towards the young woman, "she and i both travelled here from boston, years ago. i left back in, oof, '13? remind me, when did you leave?"

the woman nods, "left when i was fourteen, in '23."

"oh wow," you say, "i honestly didn't expect to meet anyone from boston round here"

there's a pause.

"what did you say your name was?" he asks, and you tell him.

"and this is violet," you say, giving your daughter's shoulder a squeeze, and she nestles back into your chest, ever shy around strangers.

"nice to meet you both," the woman grins, "i'm ellie"

"and i'm tommy," the man says. you're sure it's just a weird coincidence, a common name, just cos he happens to share the same name as joel's brother it doesn't mean anything, but you can't help but ask-

"this is probably silly, but you're not tommy miller are you?"

both tommy and ellie halt, so you do to, as they communicate something through quick glances and furrowed brows.

"wait," you say, "are you? tommy miller?"

he stares you down, and all of a sudden, you see it in his eyes. joel's eyes. violet's eyes.

"i-" your heart is pounding now with the realisation, "i knew your brother. i knew joel. he was a-" you hesitate for only a split second, "friend."

"well shit," tommy says. he caught the hesitation when you landed on friend, and he's looking at you, brows furrowed. "when was the last time you saw him?"

you shrug. "guess it was seven years ago." you look at your daughter, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and then back up at tommy. "it was when he'd stopped hearing from you, actually. he came out to find you. did... did he find you?"

tommy doesn't answer, his eyes widening, and you can see him put the pieces together as he looks at you and then at your daughter, to you, and to her again.

"how old did you say she was?" he nods at violet but keeps his gaze fixed on you.

"i didn't."

"humor me."

"she's six."

"huh," he says, and ellie's looking between you two now and you can see realisation dawning on her, too.

"wait a second--holy shit," ellie cackles, "joel's gonna lose his fuckin' mind."

a sudden flare of panic and excitement floods through you. "wait, you know him too? he's nearby? i'm sorry- he lives around here? he made it?"

ellie snorts and tommy lets out a noise that's almost like a cross between a deep exhale and a strangled moan.

"yep, he lives in town. made it here with ellie a few years back. been living here a while now."

you don't know if you're thrilled or terrified. to be honest, your brain suddenly feels like it's filled to the brim with bees that were muffling out any thought more complex than AAAAHHHHHHHH.. you'd always hoped you might see joel again, but it wasn't till now you realised you never really believed you would.

he's alive. he actually made it.

as if sensing your racing thoughts, tommy pulls up beside you and claps a strong hand on your shoulder.

"one step at a time, sweetheart. seems like y'all have a whole lotta catchin' up to do."

after you're brought through the gate and finish up at the dining hall for a bite to eat, tommy and ellie take you both on a tour of jackson. you'd seen lots of things in the time you'd travelled, but this is the first real community you'd seen. it made you think of the old days, or rather, your ideas of the old days. you were too young when the world ended, but the idea of people living together and supporting one another without bombs going off on street corners and scheduled hangings was something else.

"we've been workin' on makin' a functioning society here. we get energy from the dam, so actual, non-fedra electricity." tommy points along the main street at the street lighting (actual street lighting!!)

"most of the shops are along here," he continues, pointing out each place as he lists them off, "necessities, like a cobbler and a tailor over in that space. greenhouses and farms over in that direction as well as a clinic. we've got a bar, a couple o' bakeries, house of worship, stables back that way- couple fellas opening a barbershop in that space over there pretty soon. and, of course, the residential area just down here. we've got a lotta houses, and we're working on refurbishing a whole lot, too. most families have their own homes. you're welcome to take some time to decide if you would like to stay here, but y'all seem like decent people and at the very least, we can put you up in some of our temporary housing 'til we have a better grasp on what you need. we got families of all configurations here. we did that a whole lot better after the world ended. and this is a home for a lotta people."

"oh-!" ellie says, suddenly excited, "and the school's over there, if you guys wanna stay. fedra school fucking sucked but this one was actually pretty cool. we actually got to learn stuff!"

violet giggles a little, and ellie shoots her a bright smile that makes her giggle little more. it feels safe here. you don't remember the last time things have felt safe. you're trying to take it all in, memorise every storefront, every person, every moment, when the aroma of fresh-baked pastries suddenly assaults your nostrils and you let out an involuntary moan.

"been a while, huh?" ellie asks and snorts, and you nod. "i grew up in the qz so i never had one of these till the shop opened up a couple years ago. but i hear it's just like the old days!"

"mama, it smells really good," violet says, and it's the first thing she's said since you've come through the gates.

"it does, doesn't it?" you ask her, "and look at all these shops. see those clothes in the window there?"

her eyes are as wide as saucers, and you're so overwhelmed with joy that she gets to experience this that you don't notice ellie bounding up the steps to the bakery and running back a minute later with a paper wrapped something in hand.

she holds it out to you and you take it from her gingerly. you kneel down to let violet unwrap the paper and inside is a perfect strawberry danish. you're stunned.

"that's cream cheese and butter from our cows," tommy tells you, "strawberries and wheat grown here, too. all fresh. all cordyceps free. we don't risk using any of the old stuff that might be contaminated"

that's amazing. that's fucking amazing.

"here, baby," you tear off a piece for violet, and she clutches it carefully and sniffs at it warily before popping it into her mouth, chewing with furrowed brows, and breaking out into a grin.

"welcome to jackson," ellie says, and now you're laughing too.

by the evening, tommy's given you a tour of the whole settlement and left you, ellie, and violet at the tipsy bison with an invitation to join him and his family for dinner. there was a strong likelihood that joel would be there and you were shitting bricks.

what if he's totally different from how you remember him? what if he isn't?

what if he wants nothing to do with you? what if he wants nothing to do with violet?

what if he's forgotten you?

you pinch yourself to pull out of your spiral. ellie winks at violet, who's sipping at her juice, and clinks her glass against yours. together, you take large swigs of your beer.

she tells you a bit about herself. she's vague about how she and joel met, and you're not sure if it's because she doesn't want to talk about it or if she's trying to spare the gory details around violet, but she speaks of him fondly and blushed a little when she mentioned i've kinda become, like, a surrogate daughter to him. and he's my old man.

before you could gather your thoughts and ask any follow-ups, she's already blowing through different topics, grinning as she tells you about her girlfriend, about her tattoo and how she wants another one, about her favorite horse, and the way patrols worked around here, and you relax into the conversation. into the peace. into taking a break.

before you know it, the three of you are walking towards tommy's house and right as you're about to knock at the door, ellie barrels past and swings the door open with a bellowed "we're here!" reverberating off the walls.

as you step through the door, delicious food smells waft through the hallway and you hear laughter and music coming from the kitchen. ellie makes a beeline through the door on your right and you take it all in for a moment.

"you coming?" ellie calls, and you follow her.

and stop dead in your tracks.

illuminated in the light of an antique shaded lamp, sat on a rocking chair, was joel.

he's greyer and more tired, but he also looks- happy? and he's got reading glasses on as he peers at what looks to be a picture book as he points out the illustrations to the kid on his lap. your jaw drops.

the kid's probably around the same age as violet.

ellie is stood in the corner of the room, half-heartedly pretending to examine a bookshelf while she blatantly eavesdrops.

joel looks up and smiles in a way that you've only seen a few times before. it's... unguarded. he extends a hand, "hi there, you must be our guests, i'm jo-"

and then recognition flickers over his face and he stops. stares at you, wide eyed, and then his eyes flick over to violet, and back to you.

"hi joel," you say.

if you're honest, you're expecting him to be the asshole you remember. grouchy. closed off. sweet only in private, intimate, brief moments.

what you don't expect is for him to gently call over to ellie with a "we need a minute here, could you take your cousin and see if tommy and maria need a hand?"

cousin, he'd said, and you can feel your heart slow down a notch, calming down a little. oof. one step at a time, you remind yourself, one step at a time.

"sure thing," ellie nods and helps the kid down from joel's lap, holding his hand as they walk through to the kitchen.

you're stood, frozen, as joel takes off his readers, rubs his eyes, and stands up. you've forgotten how imposing he can be, but even now, he just feels like a big shield between you and the rest of the world. you stare at each other for just a moment, and then strong arms are wrapping around you and joel is laughing?

"fuck," he snorts, "i can't believe it's you. after all this time!"

he pulls back but keeps his hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down, studying you.

and then he looks back down at violet and you see his face contort from joy to something almost like fear. maybe dread, even? or anticipation.

"mama, who is this man?" violet asks, tugging at your sleeve, and you kneel down to her.

you meet eyes with joel one more time before answering her, and you see building panic behind them.

this was, admittedly, a lot. one step at a time. "his name is joel, he was a friend of mine. i knew him before you were born!"

violet extends her little hand out towards joel. "my name is violet, it's a kind of flower. i like your hair. it's sooo silvery."

you snort involuntarily, and joel gulps audibly, wide-eyed, before taking her small hand in his large palm, cradling it as if holding something precious, and shakes it. "i'm joel. it's nice to meet you."

you all have dinner and it's actually a pretty good time, as long as you don't make too much eye contact with joel, who looks as though he has an electric current running through him, keeping him wide eyed and twitchy. he's clearly trying to appear unfazed, but he's jumpy and not at all subtle, to the point that the kid who'd been on joel's lap earlier, rowan you'd learned, prods at joel at one point in the meal. joel jumps a mile and rowan furrows his brow asking why are you being so weird, uncle joel?

despite the tension, it's so domestic. this was a joel who folded his napkin on his lap before starting to eat, who minded his manners, and obviously pressed ellie to mind hers, too. the joel you patched up when he came to you bloodied and bruised felt like a shadow long since past.

after dinner, when you've made it through unscathed, tommy's watching the little ones as they conk out on the couch. maria's going over paperwork, and ellie's tuning a guitar.

joel pops his head into the room and makes a vague gesture indicating outside. "wanna chat on the porch?" he asks, and you nod and follow him.

there are a pair of handsome adirondack chairs and you each take a seat. you don't say anything, don't even look at one another. you just sit there in comfortable silence.

but then joel takes a deep breath and you know the question that's coming.

"violet?" he asks, "is she mine?"

you smile sadly.

"yeah," you say, "you're her daddy."

he chokes out a strangled noise and tries to cover it with a cough, badly.

he doesn't seem like he's gonna say anything, and you reckon he's not gonna, so you try and breeze past it.

"i know- i know it wasn't part of the plan." you exhale, "but it's okay, joel. she's only known one parent her whole life and it's common enough these days that she doesn't think it's strange. and i don't know if you ever want her to know that you're her dad, but i'm not ready for her to know. i'll tell her, but i want her to settle in here before any big life revelations come up for her. jackson's enough of a change as it is."

he nods slowly, coughs out a low "i understand. and i respect it. i just never thought-"

"neither did i," you cut him off, "and when i realized i was pregnant i didn't intend to keep it, but fedra had raided the last underground clinics that i knew about. most of the staff got hanged, and i was out of options."

he lets out a sharp exhale.

you're silent for another minute before joel speaks again.

"i'm sorry-" he says, "i'm sorry that your choice was taken from you. and i'm so sorry i wasn't there for you."

he still doesn't look at you, but he rests a hand on your knee.

"i can't believe- all this time and i have another daughter and i had no idea."

"she's such a cool kid," you tell him, "and don't get me wrong, i felt like the worst person in the world, bringing a kid into that fuckin'- fedra plague world," you admit, "but she's so funny, shy when you first meet her, but she has so much personality. every day, she's more and more of a tiny person! and she's just started doing this thing where i'll tell her something and she'll just scowl at me and she looks just like you-"

"hey, i don't scowl that much-" joel argues, scowling, and there's the joel you remember. all of a sudden you're hysterical with laughter, and then joel cracks too and he's laughing with you.

after a while, you fall into another comfortable silence. it gets later and later, and then joel's standing up and offering you a hand.

"'fraid i've got patrol in the morning, so i'd best be going to bed soon, and i'm guessing y'all are exhausted?"

you nod, feeling as if acknowledgement of it suddenly made it true. good god you were tired.

"you know what house you're staying in tonight?" he asked, and you tell him the number.

"sounds good," he nods, "can i walk ya home?"

"sure," you smile.

you head back inside, scoop up violet, and then the three of you are heading towards your temporary lodgings.

when you arrive, joel bids you goodnight at your doorstep and bobs his head a little as though he was about to lean in to kiss your cheek but then thought better of it, and instead takes your hand for a moment and mutters without looking directly at you, "it's really great to see you, baby. glad you made it here safe."

you go to bed. an actual bed, mind you.

you dreamed of joel miller.

you'd pretty much decided you and violet would stay here in jackson from the first minute you walked down the main street, but you gave it a few days before letting the council know. this is what you've been looking for, though. a home. a community. safety.

violet starts going to school. she's in the same year as rowan and apparently thrilled about it, so you're at tommy and maria's home more often than you'd imagined. you start patrolling, too. just short routes to begin with, but you didn't make it through this much without knowing how to survive, and you're good at it.

and then there's joel.

he's different.

he's aged, but he still looks great. the salt and pepper of his hair has turned more salt than pepper, and the crinkles by his eyes are deeper. you're still attracted to him, so attracted to him, but you don't wanna make any rash decisions. he seems lighter, clearly taken by ellie, and cautiously friendly towards you and violet.

he's made it clear he'd like to get to know her, but is happy to take his time, waiting until you're more comfortable with it. which is so beautifully, frustratingly thoughtful.

you never expected that cold, angry joel could be so warm and open, but he seems like such a doting family man, keeping an eye out for ellie, always there for tommy, being a good uncle for rowan. there was clearly some tension between him and his sister-in-law, too, but one evening you walked in on them doing dishes together, singing along to some old dolly parton cd. you slipped out the door before either of them saw you'd seen.

one night, violet and rowan are having a sleepover, supervised by tommy, and you have a rare night to yourself. you make your way over to the tipsy bison and relax at the bar, letting the whiskey warm you.

you chat with the bartender, and decide to put a song on the jukebox, but as you get up from your stool you knock the whiskey bottle over and watch tumble seemingly in slow motion before being caught by- "joel?"

"easy now," joel smiles, "don't want a repeat of last time."

it takes you aback for a moment, and then your face is burning with the memory.

"can't believe you remember that," you say, and he snorts.

"course i do. that was the last night i saw you."

he pulls out a stool and sits down next to you. gestures at the bartender for a glass, and pours himself a healthy finger of whiskey.

"how do you remember that night going?" you ask.

joel scratches at his cheek for a moment, pondering, and smiles, sipping his whiskey. "i was gonna be leavin' town, and i wanted to say goodbye so i checked out all your usual spots. walked in to see you smash a bottle and then try and flirt your way out of it with that weedy little bartender."

"i remember that bit, too," you say, "though on my end, i'll remind you, i was drinking because i was preemptively missing you and didn't realise you were leaving so soon."

"i do remember you saying that," joel nods, "and i was so mad because i'd spent so much time that night trying to find you, and that was time we wouldn't get back."

your eyes widen at his words. you didn't know this part. suddenly, you feel a warmth rising in you that you hadn't expected.

"do you remember what happened next?" he asks.

you nod. "yeah, you yelled at me a little, implied i was a whore, yelled at me more, and then told me you were leaving in the morning."

"jesus, i'm an asshole," joel says, and you smile.

"yeah, you are. neither of us were at our best though. but then we had one last night."

"one last night," he echoes.

neither of you say anything for a minute, and then joel breaks the silence.

"i'd be lying if i said i hadn't replayed that night over and over again in my head."

you smile. "me too," you admit, "it's honestly been a while since i've been with anyone, and when it's just me and my hand, that night's the first thing that i think of."

joel inadvertently chokes and splutters, dabbing at his mouth as he tries to collect himself. he's flushed a beautiful shade of pink and it makes you giggle.

"shit, girl, i forgot how blunt you can be."

"i think this might be the first wholly honest conversation we've had since i got to town," you ponder, still smiling, "we're always dancing around each other. in orbit but never colliding."

he looks at you with a curious expression on his face, like he's enjoying the task of trying to parse you almost as much as he's seeking an understanding.

you pour yourself another glass of whiskey and knock it back in one. you're gathering your courage. you're plotting plots now, and sure it's been a long time, but you figure it's worth a shot.

"i've been thinking, joel," you tell him, and his eyes are so focused on you, "i wanna say up front i don't have any expectations, and i won't be offended if you'd rather not-"

he raises an eyebrow at you and you could swear you see flirtation behind it.

"but, if you wanted-"

"spit it out"

"that last night doesn't have to be the last night."

your eyes are locked and don't speak, don't move, don't breathe.

and then joel miller's lips are crashing into yours, and you moan into him, one hand clutching at your shoulders, the other cupping your chin, and you melt into it.

"my place," you tell him, "violet's with her cousin tonight."

you realise that's the first time you said those words like that, so casual and normal, and you know you'll need to unpack that later but joel, shockingly, takes it in stride.

before you know it, you're walking up the porch steps with joel right on your heels and unlocking the front door.

you've barely gotten the door open before you're on the other side of it and it's slamming shut, joel pressing you against the threshold and kissing you deeply. one of his thighs presses between your legs and without thinking you rub up against it.

"shit, i've missed you baby," he says, and you're moaning against him as he helps you pull off your shirt, and you start to unbutton his. he continues, bashful, "didn't think you'd want an old man like me, anymore."

you scoff, "you've aged well, joel, and more than that, you've aged. you're still here and i can't even begin to tell you how much that means."

you tug the flannel from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor behind him before you pull off his undershirt.

"besides," you tell him, "you're the best lay i've ever had and i don't believe for a minute you've lost your touch."

he snorts, but then he's kissing on your neck again and you know you'll need to talk about things properly at some point. for now, though, you'll get lost in the feeling of him.

you're lost in the dizzy haze of touch. joel's hands are all over you, grabbing, stroking, caressing. you stumble to your bedroom, stepping out of your jeans and helping him shuck off his pants along the way. then he's laid out on your bed, bare except for his boxer shorts, chest heaving and cock straining.

you yank off your panties and climb on top of him, straddling him so your bare pussy rubs up against his hardness. he groans and grabs you by the hips, rocking you up and down his length.

"feel so good, baby," he breathes, and his eyes are fluttering closed in pleasure. "come here," he tells you, and he pulls you down for a kiss.

you take him in. look at his body. his chest hair has greyed, and he's got more scars than you remember including a nasty-looking one that must've been a close call. you run a thumb over the one on the side of his chest, still pearly but less pink these days, from the time you patched him up.

joel watches you watch him. "i never thanked you properly for that, sweetheart," he says, "but thank you. you saved my ass that night."

"of course," you tell him, as you dip down and lick a stripe up from his happy trail, all the way to his throat.

"fuck," he whines, and you shut him up with a kiss.

when you finally break, he strokes your cheek. "sit on my face," he tells you, and you don't need him to ask you twice.

you hobble up on your knees and then rest your cunt on his open mouth. he lets out a strangled moan and hmmms into you, the vibrations hitting your clit deliciously, before grabbing onto your hips and eating you like a man starved.

his clever tongue finds your aching clit and flicks against it, hard. once you're nearly overstimulated, he senses it and starts to lick long strokes, back and forth, dipping into your drooling pussy with each pass.

it's heavenly. addictive. you've hooked with old flames before, years after you'd slept with them last, and not only does joel not disappoint? he blows your fucking mind.

you come on his tongue and instead of pulling away, he pulls you closer. licks you deep. takes a breath and tells you "one more, baby, gimme another one."

you do, using his face to get yourself off, taking your time to build back up, rocking your hips over him, his nose covered with your slick, his cheeks, lips, and chin glistening so pretty when you finally shudder and spasm all over him.

"taste so good, baby," he tells you, "i wanna make you come on my tongue all night long."

"as much as i'd love that," you say, "i need that cock in me right fucking now. it's been seven years, joel."

he smirks, but doesn't need persuading.

he flips you over and presses his cock head at your entrance. before he slides in, though, he takes a moment to look you over.

you know you look older, and your hair has a few grey strands throughout. you've got more wrinkles, and stretch marks, and more than a few new scars.

before you can second-guess yourself, though, joel is stroking a hand along all of your perceived imperfections, adoring.

"so fuckin' beautiful", he whispers, "after all this time- i can't believe-"

you let your hand lace through the hair at his nape and give it a gentle tug. he closes his eyes, focusing only on the sensation, before opening them again. looking directly at you.

you're already so wet and worked up, he slides into you easily in one stroke, making you both gasp, and he just rests there for a moment, fully sheathed in you.

you clutch one another as he starts to thrust into you, pressing you open in a delicious stretch.

he fucks into you and then pauses and readjusts. moves your legs so they're on his shoulders, rather than wrapped round his waist. then he presses into you again, tentative, and your eyes practically roll back. it's the deepest thing you've felt.

"takin' me so good," he praises, "i feel how wet and ready you are, you've been needing this a while, huh?"

you can barely speak, only enough to breath out a whiny uh-huh that makes him chuckle.

"touch me", you beg, and he does, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, gripping your waist, your hips. he grabs at your ass and jiggles it before giving it a swat that makes you giggle, but he looks positively feral.

"this fuckin' body," he groans, and you squeak as you take a particularly deep thrust and he eases up just a little.

you reach up to grab his jaw and kiss him, and he kisses you back, deep and lovely. you drag your tongue along his jawline and pepper kisses down his neck, trace your fingertips along his pearlescent scars.

"god, joel," you moan, "so fuckin big, you feel so good."

"you even feel better than i remember, too."

"don't you dare stop, don't you dare stop fucking me-"

"never, baby. wanna have you like this always."

you can feel your eyes fill with tears, overwhelmed with the sensation, with the tenderness and the care and the big cock fucking deep into you, it's all so good.

"yes baby," he grunts, "keep it open for me, good girl, letting me fuck you so nice."

you can see how his eyes are glittering and know he's emotional, too. he's staring at you with reverential awe that might embarrass you if it didn't feel so right. this isn't the rough, hair pulling, choking, biting sex you remember from him. he presses a hand over your belly and rubs gentle circles against it. his touch is electric.

"can't believe you made it," joel whispers, "made it all the way here, and you still want me. we've got a kid, and i left you all alone, and you still want me."

"always, joel," you tell him, and you realise it's the truth. whatever life you make for yourself, you want joel miller in it.

he lets out a growl and starts fucking you harder, deeper.

your orgasm builds quickly and soon you're clutching at his shoulder, leaving half moon crescents in his skin where your nails dig in, holding on for dear life.

"i'm gonna come," you tell him, and he holds you through it, his pace steady as your walls clench around his cock.

his hips begin to stutter as he loses his rhythm, nearing his own climax. he chokes out, "where do you want it?"

"my chest," you say, "come all over my tits."

he pulls out and strokes himself twice before spilling out on your chest, his cum landing on you in hot ropes.

after you catch your breath, he gently cleans you up and then pulls you into the crook of his arm, holding you close. you lay there together, just breathing.

"so gorgeous, momma," he says.

"not too bad yourself, daddy," you tell him, and he snorts.

you know you have a lot of things to talk about. the past seven years. the future. loss and love. violet getting to know her father.

for now, though, joel miller is in your bed and you're going to cherish every minute of it. it's more than enough.

[bitchesuntitled]

Damn! This was delicious! 🥵🫠

Shameless

3k1 | Lucien de Leon x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: you ask Lucien to come over and he does exactly what you need him to Warnings: 18+ mdni. Oral (f/m), size kink, cigarettes, rimming, ass play, piv, creampie, pet names (baby, baby girl), reader has no specific physical descriptions but wears a dress

a/n:  Thank you for the inspo @gothcsz 🙏❤️ (tumblr free Kat FFS§§§) Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for everything, ily so, so much 🥹💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

“Come on baby, don't play like this now,” he said, full of self-confidence, leaning against the wall in front of your door in his stupid shirt. The mountain of shit he had been dragging behind him for years had never damage his self-esteem.

“I don’t know why I keep calling you,” you said, bitter and unfair towards him. “Every time I regret it. Before or after I fuck you.”

“Mmmm… So you regret it now? You want me to leave? Ok,” he added, turning around, before you could even answer.

“Fuck, wait, Lucien!”

He didn't hide his smile as he turned around. 

“See, baby? That's your problem, you always push people away. You're scared to be loved. And that's why you always call me.”

“Yeah, right. And you’re perfect for that, because love’s not your thing.”

He leaned against the wall again, a soft smile on his lips.

 “You think that? But who's gonna love you like I do, baby?”

“And how do you love me?”

“My way,” he said, coming closer to you, a cigarette resting behind his ear. This motherfucker was the hottest man you knew. The biggest red flag you’d ever met.

“You always say you wanna be good but you keep begging me to come over,” he said, moving closer to you, his face only a few inches away from yours. Damn, you just wanted to kiss him. To fuck him.

“Because no one can touch you like me, that deep,” he added, brushing your lips with his before pulling away.

“I’m not just talking about here,” he said, pointing at  your heart with his finger. “But also here,” he added, grabbing your pussy. “You need me. No one can fuck you like me. That deep, right?”

You swallowed loudly. Fuck, you needed him, deep and rough. He probably saw it in your eyes, but instead of leaning in and kissing you, he grabbed his cigarette and lit it. He smiled as he let the smoke out.

“Come on baby, don't give me that ‘piss off’ look. I’m gonna give you what you want,” he said, pressing his hard cock against the fabric of his black pants and pushing himself against you. He turned the cigarette over to offer it to you, and you took a drag.

“Yeah, whatever,” you said.

“Had some good dicks in the last few weeks?”

“Fucked a few. Can’t say they were that good, though.”

“Awww,” he said dramatically, before adding, “you fucked them raw? Do I have to use a condom, baby?”

“No. You’re the only dick that I fuck raw.”

He chuckled and threw his cigarette on the ground. You rolled your eyes and in two seconds he was fully against you, crushing his lips against yours, his hands cupping your cheeks.

He was never aggressive or possessive, always beautifully sensual and free. No strings attached, and that's exactly what you needed. Someone who wouldn't ask you something you couldn't or wouldn't want to give.

Each time he’d kiss you, each time you’d fuck, you never knew if it was the last time. Didn't know if you'd end up getting bored with him like with everyone else. 

You doubted he would, on the other hand. He was always patient, never seemed to take your mood swings badly. He never said ’no’ to you, even if he knew you just needed to use him, somehow. Even if you were sometimes hard on him. 

He was probably right: he loved you in his own, unconventional way, and that twisted relationship was oddly the most stable part of your life.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as he kissed your neck, your eyes already rolling to the back of your head just at the feeling of his soft mustache brushing your skin, then his rougher beard that he loved to rub against the soft skin of your neck. Just like he loved to graze it against your inner thighs each time he ate you out.

He straightened up to look at you then licked your lips with the tip of his tongue, your mind suddenly blank.

“Need it bad, huh,” he chuckled. It wasn’t a question. Yeah, you needed it bad, but still, you shrugged.

“Come on baby, let me in,” he said against your lips, his familiar tobacco breath invading your nostrils a little more. “And I'm not talking about your cunt, she’s already droolin’, right?”

You didn’t answer and just pulled away from him to lead the way inside your house, to the dining room. You could feel his eyes fixed on your ass. You didn't even have to sway your hips to know he'd follow you anywhere at that moment.

He pushed the front door behind him, quickening his pace to be right behind you and caress the roundness of your ass before seizing your hips to make you stop.

“Mmmm, baby… I never get enough of this body,” he murmured in your ear, his hard cock against you. You wanted to say something clever, or at least something with your usual “whatever” attitude, but his touch was overwhelming you.

He slid his hands up to your breasts and cupped them sensually, his nose against your hair, he breathed it in as he said, “damn you’re so hot,” almost to himself. 

He squeezed your breasts slightly, perfectly, then pulled down your neckline, freeing your nipples swollen by desire. His hand slithered down your spine to your ass and then he grabbed his bulge.

“Shit, I’m so fucking hard,” he said, his voice not as playful as usual. “Turn around baby,” he added. You did as he asked, trying to get your composure back as you looked up at him.

He cupped your tits again and took a nipple in his mouth. He sucked and licked it, making you whine “shit” softly, as you ran your fingers in his hair and pressed his face against your skin. He chuckled, so sure of himself, that he was even hotter than a second before, and sucked your other nipple. He coated it with his saliva then peppered your chest with kisses, up towards your neck and finally your lips, his tongue quickly pushed through yours, while he grabbed the hem of your short dress then pulled it over your head. He was in a rush and your head was dizzy.

His hands were rubbing your body as if he didn't know what to touch or where to stop, but he finally covered your pussy with his full hand, his fingers brushing the wet garment.

“Mmm yeah…” he said, and you didn’t take your eyes off him as he unbuttoned his shirt then freed his hard cock from his pants. The most gorgeous cock you'd ever seen, with a fat tip and a large vein that you loved to roll under your tongue.

“Come on, baby. I’ve been thinking about fucking your mouth since you called me,” he said, slowly jacking his thick cock with his fist, his stare full of lust. 

He was insanely beautiful and hot as hell, with his shirt open over his broad chest, two chains resting at the bottom of his neck. 

“Yeah? Well I’ve been thinking about cumming in yours since I called you,” you replied.

“Damn, you’re gonna kill me one day, you know that?” he smiled. 

“Mmm… clothes off, red flag guy,” you told him, then sat on the couch, feet firmly planted on the ground, legs spread. Shameless. 

Panties still on, you knew he loved to remove them himself. 

“And light me a cigarette, big boy, will you?”

You were in charge again. He was letting you be. 

A silent game between the two of you with rules that never needed to be stated.

He took his pack out of his shirt pocket and lit a cigarette then handed it to you, letting the smoke escape from him towards you. Then he undressed, slowly and sensually.

You watched him getting naked in front of you, dragging on your cigarette from time to time, arm resting along the backrest. He always made you feel safe, free, powerful.

He remained standing for a few moments, looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. His hard cock pointed towards the ceiling, slowly jacking off again after spitting into his palm. Even though the precum was flowing from his reddened slit.

He knelt down and placed his hands on your knees before moving up the inside of your thighs, the soft rub making you shiver. When he grabbed the hem of your panties, you lifted your hips to help him to pull them down slowly, revealing your glistening pussy and the butt plug you had inserted just before he arrived.

“Shit, baby…” his husky voice and eyes full of desire made you drool a little more. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“Fuck… Take a drag, baby,” he asked, unable to take his eyes off your two holes. He spread your thighs wider by pushing on them with his shoulders. You exhaled the blue smoke slowly, looking down at him, kneeling between your thighs. So broad, so strong, but still at your knees, leaving you in full control of your femininity. It made him even more beautiful, even more attractive, even more sensual. He grabbed one of your thighs and kissed the sensitive skin, then placed it on his shoulder.

“Fuck you're so hot. A true free spirit, aren't you?”

He didn't let you answer and leaned down, running his nose up your folds. He growled as he licked them with the tip of his tongue, then moved away slightly to look at your cunt and ass.

He seized the plug and pulled on it slightly, until the widest part reached your ring, making you moan.

“Shit,” he said, unable to say more as he watched your muscle tighten every time the metal spread it apart.

“You always let them go down on you?” he asked, moving the plug deliciously back and forth, before sticking his tongue into your wet cunt. You let your head fall back against the back of the couch. He had always been a really good fuck, but he always ate you out divinely well, leaving you breathless as soon as he dived in.

“Mmm?” he insisted.

“Shit… you’re the jealous type now?” you pantered.

“No. It turns me on to think about it,” he answered, grabbing one of your breasts with his hands.

“Damn, Lucien you're twisted…” you whimpered. “Not always… shit… I… not all men are good at it,” you stammered. 

He chuckled, so sure of himself, pushing a finger into your cunt already stuffed by his tongue. It was like he was all over your body, boobs, pussy and ass, and it was intoxicating.

“I think you forgot about your cig, baby,” he said, teasing. He wasn't one of those men. Of course he wasn't. He was so good at this. 

You crushed the cigarette in the ashtray by the armrest. He was so good that sometimes he would make you come in less time than it took you to finish your cig. Then he’d grab it from your trembling fingers to take a drag while you were still trying to catch your breath. 

His hand left your tit to press your hip against the sofa and he pushed his tongue into your drooling hole. 

“Gonna come for me? Yeah, you're gonna come for me. Soak my face, baby girl.”

You used him to get off, rubbing yourself against his nose, hands tight on his head, thighs spread as wide as possible, giving him full access to your core. You were so aroused that some of your wetness was leaking down to the plug, making it even easier for him to fuck you with it.

“Lucien,” you whined. His hand tightened on your flesh, letting you use him like you needed until you came in his mouth.

He pushed two fingers in your cunt and looked the way your body was squeezing his thick digits pumping your cunt and the plug, until it finally stopped. 

He pushed the metal all the way in then stood up and brushed your cheek as you looked up at him and straightened up, his cock inches from your lips. He held it tightly and you licked his shaft from his fingers to his tip, unable to tease him more. He growled when you took him in your mouth, focusing on the tip at first then deeper and deeper, getting your throat used to his width, and your saliva started to flow down his shaft to his fingers. Your hand caressed his balls full of cum.

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” he murmured.

You pushed his hand from his shaft and jerked him off slowly, licking his balls that you could never resist for long. He whimpered when you took one of them in your mouth, the thin skin rolling between your lips. 

“You're so easy, Lucien,” you chuckled. It was your turn to make him fall apart, and you loved it.

“Shit, yeah, I'm easy with this damn mouth,” he agreed. “That’s it baby. Keep licking them.”

You pulled them up then tasted the skin behind them, gaze looking up at him but his eyes were closed, his hands resting on your head.

“You don’t want a cigarette, Lucien?” you bantered, then licked him again from his scrotum to his ass that you teased with the tip of your tongue.

“Fuck… I can barely breathe, no I can’t smoke right now, you little minx,” he whimpered as you took a ball in your mouth. You finally released it with a needy moan. Your core was already filled with warmth again and begging for release. 

“Shit, you need it deep, right? Wanna ride it?” he asked as he held your elbow to get you up.

“No, want you to fuck me.”

“Come here then, baby. All fours. Lemme see that ass.”

You settled and he knelt behind you, rubbing his cock against your soaked folds, before grabbing the plug and pulling on it slightly, making your ring contract instinctively as it was stretching you.

He chuckled, then mocked gently, “that’s cute. As if he doesn’t want to get fucked.” He nestled his fat tip at your sloppy pussy then pushed in, and you stopped breathing for a minute under the feeling of his cock splitting you in two.

“How do you need me, baby? Need me to fix you up for a while, until next time?”

You moaned, feeling him push in your two holes.

“Tell me,” he insisted, filling you with his whole length and brushing against your cervix.

“Yeah, fuck…. Yeah, I need you to fix me.”

“Damn, baby,” he said, pulling out to eat your pussy from behind, and he removed the plug to press his nose against your ass before coming up to lick it.

“Oh god,” you whined, eyes rolling in the back of your head and fists squeezing the sofa cushions. He spat on your ass and watched the saliva run down and slide inside before licking at it, pressing his tongue against it then pushing in. Your ass opened up to let him reach inside and you couldn’t hold back a loud moan as he was lapping at your hole.

He spanked you and focused his tongue on your most private place before grabbing your ass with his two hands. You wanted to beg him to stuff you until he’d fill you with his seed. 

“Lucien, please… Fuck me.”

He straightened up and pressed his tip against your cunt, pushing in slowly to let you feel all of him sliding in.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined.

Leaning on your forearms, you didn't move, letting him thrust into you, filling you so slowly that you could feel the vein of his cock brushing your insides.

“Oh, god, that’s good Lucien, fuck…”

“Yeah? Always takin’ me so good, baby…”

He started to fuck you, his thumb pressed against your ass, growls and moans escaping from his lips. He was watching you contract on his digit as he was filling your two holes. 

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Harder, please,” you whined.

You knew he would do it for you, in the way you needed, even though you knew he would want to take his time, to get you used to him. But he had quickly understood why you called him. Because he would answer your needs, because you were safe with him. Because his cock was so big it was perfect for what you were looking for, to forget everything else. He knew you were scared to be loved, or to love, and didn't want that kind of relationship. That this way of fucking was what you needed. For now anyway, and maybe forever. He always smiled when you called him a red flag, unaware of that game he was still playing for you. He could find it funny, how wrapped he was around your finger, although you didn't even know it. Or maybe you just didn't want to see it.

He was rolling into you, faster than he wanted. Harder than he wanted. Because if it was the only way he could have you, he would never say no. Because he knew you wouldn’t fall for him, and it was probably for the best.

“Fuck, baby… your little cunt is squeezing me so hard… You know I can never say no to you, right?” he asked, sliding his hand down to your clit, eager to make you come. His entire length was pushing in and out, fucking your insides like no one else could. Not as deep, not as wide.

“Make me come, Lucien, please,” you whimpered.

His balls squeezed him painfully, waiting to give you what you wanted. When you came, tightening on his cock so fucking hard, it was enough for him to spit his cum deep into your core while he panted even louder than you, mouth crushed against your shoulder, nibling at it, his weight pushing on your back. You leaned forward and felt his length leave your cunt and his cum flowed when you lay down on the couch, under him. Already feeling so desperately empty.

He leaned towards you and kissed you. He knew you didn't want more, and wouldn't allow more. Didn't want some bullshit proximity.

He sat on the couch, putting your calves on his lap, while you stayed lying there. He lit up a cigarette for you, then another one for him. You smoked them silently until he got up and put his clothes on.

“Till next time?” he asked.

“Till next time,” you replied.

Thank you for reading 🙏

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[bitchesuntitled]

This was so good! 😍 Absolutely loved Sarah’s meddling! 🥰

B.F.D

This is a TLOU AU. No outbreak. Also, I have no idea if the timeline lines up with the show. It's about now. Sarah is alive, but there is no Ellie in this story (sorry, I know I love her too). This is a twist on the best friend's dad (BFD) trope.

This story was inspired by the insanely talented @for-a-longlongtime. She wrote a story called Guilty Pleasure, which is a delicious twist on the DBF trope. If you haven't read that, you should go read that right now.

warnings: smut, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (f receiving), some cursing, one comical use of the term "daddy". Mention of divorce and death in a previous relationship. work count: 8.2K pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader. No physical description of reader past AFAB body, some description of reader's background.

“Miller, you are the light in my life. If this building was on fire, you’re the only one I would save.”

Sarah hands you a large black coffee from the shop downstairs and bestows an impressive eye roll on you. Impressive because you know she learned that from you. Two years ago when she started at the firm those big innocent eyes had never even considered such a gesture.

“Don’t lie,” she says. “We all know you would save your portable space heater first.”

“Nonsense.” You look back at your heater, which is of course on. “The glorious flames feeding off this hellhole would keep me warm for the rest of my life.”

Sarah laughs. It's a lovely and delicate sound that you’re sure has no business inside the den of iniquity that is the A&I Investment Fund offices. When she started you were sure she wouldn’t last the week. But she proved you wrong. She was diligent and focused. Unruffled by the egos the business tends to attract. She had a brilliant mind for numbers and you never let a deal out the door without her eyes on it first.

But it was her whip smart sense of humor that made her your work best friend. And then, after plenty of happy hours that turned into evening drinks, she’d become more than just a work best friend.

“You’re still coming on Saturday, right?” She looks at you with pleading eyes. She must have been an impossible child to say no to.

You nod. “With a bottle of Boone's Farm in hand.”

“What’s that?”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re fucking with me.”

“I am,” Sarah says with a shrug. “Though I am much too young to have ever tried it.”

“You’re right, I would save the heater.”  

Sarah smiles and waves at you as she waltzes out of your office.

“Saturday at 2pm, wear a bathing suit and bring tequila!”

You show up at the Miller residence at 3pm, a bottle of tequila in hand, as requested. Sarah spots you as soon as you walk around to the backyard. She flits over, long, lean legs in a soft white summer dress.

“Twenty-eight,” you say. “You’re an old hag now.”

“Just like you!”

You shake your head. “One of these days I’m going to fire you.”

“Yeah but then who would you hang out with? Mabel?”

You pinch your nose with disgust. Mabel is the office brown nose. Once a week she tells you how “good you look for your age” which she seems to think is a compliment.

Sarah plucks the bottle out of your hand. “Let’s do shots.”

You laugh, cause you’re sure Sarah has had a few already. And while you know from experience that Sarah is the cutest drunk, you’re guessing she doesn’t want her party to end with her puking in the swimming pool before 5pm.

You take the bottle back.

“How about we put this on ice and you introduce me to your family so I don’t feel like a weirdo with no one to talk to when you go to greet your next guest.”

You look around the yard. There’s a small in-ground pool with lounge chairs set up along one side. At the far side of the lawn a grill is going and you can smell the char on the burgers from here. There are about a dozen people milling around. Some in the pool, a few sitting at a table. There’s music coming out of a portable Bluetooth speaker not quite loud enough for you to make out what’s playing.

“I think everyone is here,” Sarah says. “Well, except for my Uncle Tommy who just ran out to pick up his girlfriend from work.” Sarah lowers her voice and leans over to you conspiratorially. “His girlfriend is a year younger than me and still lives with her parents.”  

“Oh, I like this catty side of you.”

“Shut up,” she says through her smile. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my dad.”

Sarah drags you over to the man standing at the grill with a spatula in his hand.

“Dad!”

He turns around as you approach. You’re immediately struck by his handsome face. An easy smile comes over full lips and his deep brown eyes crinkle at the corner at the sight of his daughter.

“Yeah, baby girl?”

His voice is a soft rumble that you think is inappropriate for a public place.

“This is my work wife,” Sarah says proudly as she introduces you by name.

“You’re the work wife?” Joel shakes your outstretched hand but his eyebrows belay his confusion.

“I am,” you say. “You were expecting…”

“No, I–”

“—Someone younger?” You grin because you now know where Sarah gets that embarrassed little head shake she does.

“That’s not what I was going to say out loud.” Joel Miller grasps your hand firmly as you laugh. “Sarah talks about you a lot, I just assumed you were her age.”

“Dad!” Sarah yells at him, slapping his arm. You’re sure with shoulders like that he doesn’t even notice.

“I am closer in age to your dad than I am to you,” you point out to Sarah.

“That’s not true.”

“Unless your dad is over,” you do a quick calculation in your head, “fifty-two, then yes, I am.”

Sarah squints as she takes that in. “Wait, you’re forty?”

“Only on earth. On Mars I’m twenty-two.”

Joel laughs.

“Forty?”

“I’ll make you sit with Mabel at lunch.”

“No! Don’t do that!”

Her lip pouts out and she looks more like she’s eight then twenty-eight.

“Sarah!” Two young women call her name from the sliding glass door that leads into the house.

Sarah looks over at them and watches as they wave her closer.

“BRB,” she says. Then stops after two steps and looks back at you and Joel. “That means ‘be right back’ in text lingo.” She spins back toward her friends and hurries into the house.

“Brat,” Joel says with a shake of his head.

“I’m sure you didn’t raise her like that, Mr. Miller.”

Joel lets out a huff. His dark eyes scan you over quickly. “You remember the fall of the USSR. You can call me Joel.”

He looks at the bottle in your hand. “And you brought the good stuff. May I?”

You hand him the bottle and follow him over to a table set up with drinks. He puts a few ice cubes in two cups and gives you both a healthy pour.

“To Sarah,” you say as you tap your clear plastic cup against his.

“To Sarah.” He holds your gaze as he takes a sip. He licks his lips with appreciation. “I’m forty-six,” he says.

You take that information and you tuck it into a box that says “Do Not Flirt With Your Best Friend’s Dad”. You take another drink of your tequila. The sensation is warm and the sun is even warmer but Joel Miller is watching your throat as you swallow and all of a sudden you have goosebumps.

“Burger?”

“I’d love one.”

“How do you like it?’ Joel wanders back over to the grill with you in tow.

“Still mooing if you can manage.”

“Ah, a woman who appreciates good meat.”

You bite back the x-rated quip on your tongue.

“I may not be from Texas but I’d like to think I acclimated well.”

Joel presses a fresh patty on the grill. It sears as smoke rises up.

“Where’s home?”

“New York. But that was a long time ago. I’m full Texas now, got the license an’ everything.”

“You droppin’ y’alls yet?”

“Not that Texas.”

Joel smiles at you before diverting his focus on your burger. It’s a devastating look and the worst of it is you’re sure he knows he’s doing it.

“It’s sweet that Sarah wanted to celebrate her birthday here.”

You remember your twenty-eighth birthday. You wouldn’t have been caught dead at your parents’ house. Though it’s pretty clear the relationship Sarah has with her dad is much different then the one you had with your parents.

“Yeah, she throws her old man a bone every now and again. Cheese?”

“Please.”

Joel tops your burger with a slice of cheddar before quickly toasting the buns and putting the whole thing together for you on a plate.

“Pickles and condiments on the table over there.” He nods toward a small picnic table.

You thank him and take a seat at it though you’re already trying to come up with an excuse to go stand near him again.

Turns out you don’t need one.

He appears at your side and tops off your drink and then sits down across from you with a burger of his own.

“Sarah keeps trying to get me to be a vegetarian,” he says just before he bites into the burger.

“I really should fire her.”

Your own burger is cooked to bloody pink perfection and you fight back a moan when you take your first bite.

“Are you really her boss?”

“Not technically. She’s in a different department, but she runs circles around the ivy league idiots I have under me so I’m constantly trying to steal her.”

Joel lets out a soft laugh.

“She’s always been too smart for her own good. Definitely didn’t get that from me.”  

“Mom?”

Sarah never mentions her mom, talks about her dad nonstop. But never a word about her mom. Not that you’re prying but, okay maybe you’re prying a little.

“Died when Sarah was only a baby,” he says. “We weren’t together, uh, her mom and I,” he clarifies. “Two young and stupid kids. Not to say Sarah was an accident…”

“But if you were practicing all of the safe sex practices you’ve instilled in your daughter then Sarah probably wouldn’t be here.”

Joel frowns and puts his burger down, so he means business.

“My daughter has never had sex. And never will.”

“Ah,” you smile, “so we’re sticking with the river in Egypt defense?”

“Until the day I die.”

Behind you Sarah shrieks and comes running out of the house.

“Dad! Gabby and Jance bought me tickets to see Baby Teeg!”

Sarah is actually bouncing up and down and you think for a moment she is going to ask for her dad’s permission to go.

“The show is tonight though, so I have to leave a little early.” She scrunches up her face with guilt.

“It’s your birthday, baby girl. You get to do whatever you want.”

Sarah looks at you. “We have an extra ticket, do you want to come?”

You take her hand. “Sarah, that is so sweet. What on earth is a Baby Teeg?”

Joel laughs. Sarah sighs.

“I know you’re not that lame, stop pretending just so my dad doesn't feel bad being the only one on the planet who doesn’t know who Baby Teeg is.”

“Hey!” Joel looks mildly insulted.

“Scalp that ticket and use it to buy drinks.” Is your suggestion.

Sarah pouts her lower lip out at you in hopes of changing your mind.

“You just don’t want me to hang out here with your dad all night talking trash about you.”

“I really don’t.”

“Too bad, he’s already promised to break out the baby photos.”

“Dad! I leave you alone for five minutes!”

But Sarah can’t be all that upset because she bounces back over to her friends to shriek some more.

“I get why she likes you,” Joel says.

That look is back. The one that is making you glad you wore a bathing suit.

“I really don’t know who Baby Teeg is.”

You think maybe you’ve stayed past your welcome when Tommy throws the last empty beer can in the recycling and says:

“I’m calling it a night, brother. Gotta get the little lady home.”

“Before her curfew?” Joel asks just loud enough for you to hear.

You’re in the kitchen washing some glassware, despite Joel’s protests that you leave it for him to deal with in the morning.

Sarah’s been gone a couple of hours at this point. You hadn’t intended to stay, but the drinks kept getting poured and people kept sitting down near you and Joel, eager to hear about Sarah’s professional life and tell you stories about her childhood. Who were you to tell them no? Especially when every time you turned toward Joel you found him watching you, subtle smile twisting on his handsome face. Especially when he sat next to you, inching closer so your bare thighs met, to make room for other people to sit. Especially when you stood up to use the restroom and his hand instinctively went to your low back to help you step over the picnic bench.

With Tommy gone it’s just the two of you. You should call a cab and —

“Night cap?”

“Sure.”

Joel pours you each one more drink, bit more ice than booze. Like he’s not trying to get you drunk, just trying to delay your departure.

Seated outside on the patio couch, the temperature has cooled just enough to make the air palatable. The night hums with the familiar chorus of insects.

“I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad Sarah invited me.”

“She speaks very highly of you.”

“Oh yeah?” You take a sip of your drink and quirk an eyebrow at Joel. “What does she say?”

“That you’re smart and tough. That she wants to have your confidence someday.”

Your chest warms at that.

“She will.” You assure him. “You’ve raised an incredible young woman. I’m lucky I get to call her a friend.”

Joel nods. He stares out at the pool and the still water reflecting the patio lights. He squints his eyes in pain.

“This is…”

“...Probably a bad idea because of Sarah,” you finish.

Joel lets out a strained breath.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” He looks you over once before finding your gaze. “Because I want to. It’s just, if we started something and she got stuck in the middle…”

You get it. Of course you do. You would never want to jeopardize your friendship with Sarah, or her relationship with her dad. Of course…

“We could not start something.”

That’s the tequila talking.

“You mean like a just-for-tonight?” Joel twists toward you with interest.

“I mean…” You shrug.

“I am the parent,” Joel concedes. “I don’t have to tell her everything.”

He pauses for a moment. His eyes sweeping the yard like someone might be watching you.

“Can you keep a secret?”

His voice rumbles through you. He has a dangerous smirk on his face. Dangerous only because you like that you put it there and you want to lick it off him.

“I can if you can.”

He takes the drink out of your hand and places it on the table. Then he grabs your hand and tugs you to follow him into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. He’s quiet the whole time, but so are you. Taking in the worn wooden stairs that creak under your weight. The pictures that line the wall, Sarah at various stages of her life. There’s a faded rug underfoot as you approach his bedroom. Once inside there is a partially made bed, the gray comforter haphazardly pulled up to the pillows. All the signs of a lived-in-space. A loved space.

“Wasn’t expecting guests,” he says with a look toward the bed.

You shrug. “Just gonna mess it up anyway.”

And then finally, fucking finally, with the door closed behind you and his hands on your hips he’s close enough to kiss. Those lips do not disappoint. Soft on yours, the sting of tequila mixed on your tongue. Your fingers grip the thin t-shirt he wears, leaving no doubts about how much you want him. You’re already on the edge, having spent a not insignificant part of the night thinking about what his cock might feel like buried inside you. His fingers on your skin, his breath hot on your neck. And now that he’s right here, walking you back towards the bed until you’re falling back on it, your body already hums like he’s been touching you for hours.

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he says as he crawls over you. Mouth tracing your collar bone as he pulls your shirt over your head.

“Thinking about fucking your daughter’s friend all day? Dirty old man,” you tease.

He laughs quietly against your skin, tipping his head up to meet you with those devastatingly dark eyes.

“I think you like it.”

“Oh, I definitely do.”

You arch against him, seeking friction against his hard length beneath his flimsy board shorts. He groans at the contact but gives you more of it. His hips grind down against yours. You're certain with just a little more time you could come just like this, dry humping like teenagers. But Joel sits up and tugs at your shorts impatiently. As soon as your clothes are gone he slots his mouth between your legs. Broad shoulders pressing your thighs wide. His tongue finding its way through your sensitive folds. You exhale, ragged breath that you fight to breathe back in as he licks his way closer and closer to your climax.

“Fuck, Joel,” your voice leaks out of your mouth. Your nails scrap against his skull, urging him on. Somewhere in the back of your head, one voice telling you you shouldn’t be doing this, the other condemning you for agreeing to only do it once.

Joel picks up on your urgency. He moves his tongue faster against you. Pressing his whole face into you, letting you use him as you need. And, fuck, do you need. When you break, your muscles contract in waves over your supine form. You have to pull him away, gripping his hair in your hands. You lift your head just in time to catch that same smile, crooked over his face, taunting you. You let your head fall back on the mattress.

“You good?”

“Am I good?” You ask incredulously.

“Yeah,” he says as he nibbles at your stomach then your ribs then your breasts. “Are you good?”

You reach your hand between your bodies, snaking it past Joel’s bare stomach. Dragging your nails through the coarse hair before gripping his cock in your palm.

“I suppose I could be better, now that you mention it.”

His body folds over yours, face buried in your neck, his spine rounded as you caress him. Gently you guide him to your entrance, your hips angled up, begging for him to make the final move. When he finally does, thrusting into your wet pussy your whole body relaxes. Like a hot shower after a long day. The sheer mass of him is overwhelming. He blocks out your view of the room. All you can see is Joel Miller, hovering over you, sweat at his hairline, dark eyes drilling down into you.

“Fuck, darlin’ you feel good.”

Joel drags his cock slowly in and out of you. There’s tension in his jaw where you smooth your fingers over his patchy beard. You follow the natural lines down his neck and across his back where his muscles roll beneath his skin. You dig your nails into the meat there, urging him on like a stallion with a riding crop. He picks up his pace with a grunt. Each sound he makes hums through your body like a perfectly pitched tuning fork.

One of his huge hands palms your ass, drawing you closer to him as he fucks you deeper, getting rougher with each passing moment. Your head tips back and you reach behind you for something to grasp. Your hands find the wooden slats of his bedpost and you keep them latched there.

His gaze falls over your outstretched body, your hips angling up and he fucks you faster. Your skin buzzes, sweat between your breasts dripping down toward your navel. You’re so fucking close and you want to tell him but you can get the words out past your throat, not when he’s grunting above you and the air is trapped in your lungs until finally your body releases. Bright light behind your eyes and you cry out the long held breath.

With his own growl Joel is coming inside you. His hips stutter before he slumps over you. His weight pressing you into the mattress. Your cramped fingers release their hold on his bed frame and your arms come around him, holding him in place.

“Fucking hell,” he lets out as he pants against your hair.

You chuckle. “I’ll say.”

Finally he pulls back and collapses next to you. You both lay there catching your breath, staring up at the ceiling.

You sit up. “I should –”

“–You turning into a pumpkin at midnight?” He pulls you back down to his side.

“Pretty sure it’s way past midnight.”

“Wait, shit really?” Now it’s Joel sitting up.

“Yeah, why?”

And then you hear it. Joel hears it too. The front door opening and closing.

“Shit.”

“Is Sarah sleeping here tonight?” You hiss.

“Yes, we always do pancakes in the morning for her birthday. She said she would be home late, I just didn’t realize.” Joel stops talking and the two of you barely breath as you hear Sarah come up the stairs. You listen as the soft footsteps get closer. Stopping just briefly in front of Joel’s door before continuing on. Once the sound of the faucet running reaches you Joel exhales audibly.

“I should go while she’s still in the bathroom,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. “She’s a sound sleeper. Wait a little bit until she’s out.”

He is already sliding you beneath the covers with him. Your bodies both warm and a little sticky. You don’t say anything, you just find a comfortable spot, curled against him, his arm around you and your face pressed against his chest. Trying not to think about how good he smells, how firm and inviting he feels beside you, how easily you could close your eyes and fall asleep here.

You both stay like that. Quiet and listening. The water goes off. The bathroom door opens. The door to Sarah’s childhood bedroom shuts. There are the faint sounds of dresser drawers opening and closing. And then finally, there is silence. It settles over the house and over you and Joel.

He doesn’t let you go right away. Instead he twists to face you.

“This was a lot of fun. I wish we had more time,” he says softly.

You’re inclined to agree. But maybe this is best. If Sarah hadn't come home you’re not sure you would have had the energy or fortitude to leave this bed. One night only would have turned into one night and one morning only. And you don’t have any plans tomorrow so… It’s easy to see yourself getting stuck here.

“Me too,” you say. But you slowly extract yourself from beneath Joel’s heavy arm. You give him one more kiss, careful not to let it overwhelm you, before you slip out from under the sheets and find your clothes.

You’re ordering a car when Joel gets out of bed. He grabs his shorts off the floor, though you wish he wouldn’t.

“I’ll drive you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Car will be here in seven minutes.”

“You sure?’ He looks almost hurt but you can’t drag this out.

“Yes. Thank you for tonight.”

He looks like he wants to say something else but he just nods and watches as you slip out of his bedroom.

~~~

“I think my dad might be seeing someone.” Sarah announces as she enters your office.

You glance over at your phone, which is mercifully face down on your desk. Then you spin away from the flashing red and greens on your screen depicting the midday stock market.

“And why do you think that?”

Sarah flops down on the small couch in your office. “I keep catching him smiling like a fool at his phone and he won’t tell me what he’s looking at.”

“Maybe he’s watching porn.”

“Gross.”

You’re pretty sure that’s not what it is either.

For one week after Sarah’s party you and Joel kept up the promise of one night only. You didn’t take his number when you left and you certainly couldn’t ask Sarah for it. But the silence didn’t keep you from thinking about him. Maybe it only made it worse. A tension that would build throughout the day so that when you got home you reached for your vibrator before you even thought about dinner.

Last week that changed. Your phone vibrated with a message from an unknown number.

Hey, it’s Joel. I hope it isn’t creepy that I stole your number from Sarah’s phone. 

Creepy that you’re stalking me, or creepy that you went through your daughter’s phone?

I made sure to avoid the photo album at all costs.

Smart man.

And maybe when he said I’ve been thinking about you, your response should have been to remind him of the deal you made and why you made it. But instead you said:

What have you been thinking about? 

Are you trying to get x-rated texts from me?

Maybe.

Maybe I could just come over and show you. No paper trail.

Your brain screamed NO! at that message but it was no match for you pussy. Your pussy was desperate for some more Joel Miller. She could already feel his thick cock like some kind of phantom limb.

So you gave him your address and he showed up 15 minutes later. Twenty minutes after that he was railing from behind on your couch as you struggled to keep hold of the arm rest.

Since then you’ve been texting. You send him dirty jokes and he sends you memes from the internet that he doesn’t understand. You know you smile every time your phone lights up with a message from him. Apparently, he does the same thing.

“Is it a bad thing that your dad is dating someone?”

This is an unfair line of questioning, self-serving at best. At worst, manipulative. A part of you wants to come clean. A part of you wants to make an excuse to get her out of your office so you can call Joel and end this before Sarah gets hurt.

“No,” she says after some thought. “I want him to be happy. I just thought…” she sighs. “Nevermind. I should just leave him alone, right?”

“Your dad seems like a pretty reasonable guy. I’m sure he can make his own dating decisions.”

“You’d think. But he’s made some pretty bad ones in the past.”

Oh, you definitely want to know more about that. But Sarah doesn’t linger on the topic.

“You talked to him for a while at my birthday party, right? Did he mention seeing anyone?”

Before or after he shoved his tongue into my cunt, you think.

“He didn’t. But he doesn’t really know me. I’m sure if it’s serious he’ll bring it up to you.”

“That’s the thing,” Sarah stands up and starts pacing. “My dad doesn’t do casual. He’s the most all or nothing guy on the planet.”

“Is that so?” You internally wince for letting that comment slip out, but Sarah is too busy pacing your office to notice.

“I’m overreacting to this, aren’t I?” She stops by your window and turns to look at you.

“There is that possibility.”

Your computer pings, reminding you of your next call. You thumb at it.

“I have to yell at Duncan Kane in ten minutes.”

Sarah frowns. “He’s so nice.”

“He is, but his company keeps losing me money. I prefer the assholes who are good at their jobs.”

Sarah nods. “Thanks for the pep talk, wifey.”

You wait until she has closed the door to your office before you reach for your phone.

“A call in the middle of the day? Did your office burn down?” Joel’s baritone voice jokes. “Wait, is Sarah okay?” 

“Sarah is fine,” you assure. “However, your poker face needs work.”

“Huh?”

“Apparently you go all googly-eyed every time you get a text message from me and she’s not buying whatever excuse you’re giving her. Please tell me you don’t have me saved under my real name in your phone.”

“Um…”

“Christ, Joel. Are you the last honest man on the planet? Change that right away.”

“Well what do you have me saved as?”

“B.F.D.”

The line is silent for a moment.

“Big Fucking Dick?” He says quietly but with no small amount of hope.

You laugh. “Best Friend’s Dad.”

“I’m going to pretend it’s my guess.” 

“Pretend whatever you want. Just fix your contacts.”

You glance at the time. You wish you could stay on the phone, but duty calls.

“Come over on Friday?”

“Does 7pm work? I’ll bring takeout.”

“Perfect.”

And it is. And you wish it weren’t. The burning guilt gnaws at you as you set your cell to the side.

You are so, so, fucked.    

~~~

Friday night rolls around and Joel is at your door at exactly 7pm with Thai food from the place near him.

Thai food that is still sitting in a plastic bag on your kitchen counter because before Joel could open it and ask you where the forks were you were taking off his pants.

“In a rush?” He asked with no small amount of amusement.

“It’s been a whole week. Just me and my own fingers, alone in this apartment.”

“Is that so?”

With that he grabbed you by the wrist and started walking you toward your bedroom.

“I think I need a demonstration. Just so I understand the competition.”

That led to Joel watching you, a starved look in his eyes, as you brought yourself to climax.

Just as he reaches for you, a determined look on his face, his phone rings.

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes. “I was supposed to see Sarah tonight. She asked me to grab a drink with her after work earlier today. I was busy and not thinking and I just said yes.”

He answers his phone, guilt furrowed on his forehead.

“Hey baby,” he says.

“Where are you? I need that drink. I’m paying.” You can hear Sarah’s voice over the phone.

Joel looks at you naked on the bed. He purses his lips together before responding.

“I got stuck at the job site. I’m sorry, honey. I’m not going to be able to make it.”

“Oh, well that’s okay. But it means you owe me. Next time you’re paying.” 

Joel laughs lightly.

“Deal, baby girl. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

As soon as Joel hangs up, your phone rings.

Joel lays back in your bed with his forearm over his eyes. “I thought my days of being cockblocked by my kid were over.”

“Hey wifey,” you answer.

“Thank goodness,” Sarah says. “Will you come drink with me? My dad just ditched me.” 

“I would love to,” you say.

Joel reaches for the phone.

“But I’m coming down with something, so it’s probably not a good idea.”

“Oh no.” Sarah’s voice goes all soft. “I’m not far from your place. Do you want me to pick up some ramen and bring it over?”

You face pinches in guilt. “You really are an angel,” you say sincerely. “But you better not, I don’t want you to catch whatever I have. Someone has to keep the fund running.”

Sarah sighs. “Isn’t that Dan’s job?”

“Yeah, but you know that dumb nepo-baby can’t tie his own shoelaces.”

Sarah snorts. “So true. Okay. Well, feel better. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Hey wait, why did you want to hang out anyway?” Not that it was weird for Sarah to call you to have a drink, but she seemed rather insistent on having one right now.

“Paul and I broke up.” 

Joel sits up in bed and now you know he's reconsidering his previous decision.

“Did that wet paper bag break up with you?” Your feelings about Paul are not a secret.

“No,” Sarah says with a soft whine. “I broke up with him. But he was all sad and now I’m all sad.”

You smile at Joel who shakes his head. His daughter really might be the sweetest person you’ve ever met. She didn’t get that from Joel, and you’re certainly not a good influence on her either.

“Not as sad as you would have been if you stayed with that department store mannequin.”

Sarah laughs. You momentarily forget Joel is there.

“I’ve had more interesting conversations with brick walls and I’m sure I have vibrators that are better in bed.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” 

Joel’s hands fly over his ears. You shrug an apology at him.

“I feel better already,” Sarah says. “Thanks, wifey.”

You say goodbye and hang up.

“Am I a bad dad?”

“For pretending your daughter is the second coming of Mary?”

Joel drills you with a look. It only makes you more certain the lies you both told were worth it.

“Will it help if I call you ‘daddy’” You crawl over to where he’s lying back on your pillows.

“I’m certain it will not.”

He reaches for you as you get closer.

“That’s good. Regretted it the moment it left my mouth.”

Joel smiles up at you. Perfect crinkles around his eyes. It leaves a warm feeling in your chest that you really wish it wouldn’t. Because you can fast forward this night into tomorrow morning. Into waking up and looking into those eyes again. The ones that trace over your face only to rest heavily on your own. You can see tomorrow morning turning into a lazy Saturday afternoon. Brunch and a walk through the Botanical Gardens. Grocery shopping and making dinner together. All the while Joel looks at you like this. Like you’re the only thing he sees.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

“We can stop.”

“I don’t want to do that.”

Joel swallows. His jaw set firm as he reaches his palm to your cheek. You know he’s measuring the weight of what you just said. He guides your face down to meet his.

“Me neither.”

~~~

“Alamo is doing a Nic Cage double feature. Lost Highway and Gone in 60 seconds. “

Sarah has stuck her head into your office to report this good news.

“Diverse selection,” you comment.

“Saturday starting at noon, you in?”

“You know it.”

“Great, I’ll get tickets.”

“Hey,” you call her back before she can leave. “Are you sitting in on the PTech meeting?”

“I can if you want me to.”

“The warrant structure for this deal is needlessly complicated. I can't figure out if the CFO is a mad genius or just mad.”

Sarah smiles, her lips stretch wide across her face, straight white teeth peeking out. It reminds you of Joel. You’re instantly guilty and horney. Not a great combination.

“I’ll be there.”

You take a deep breath as she leaves. You need to get this shit under control. Just go a week without seeing him. Maybe you can get him out of your system that way.

This might have worked but when you show up at the theater at 11:45 to meet Sarah you find her standing out front with none other than the man you’ve spent most of the week trying to avoid. Based on the crease in his forehead he wasn’t expecting to see you either.

You put your best poker face on as you approach.

“Nice to see you again, Joel.” You give him a New York hello, just a quick press of the cheeks in a mock kiss.

“Ah, you too,” his poker face still needing work. “Didn’t know you were a Nic Cage fan,” he says in recovery.

“It’s about the closest thing I have to religion,” you say.

“It was the same in our house when I was growing up. Every time I was home sick from school I would insist we watched Con Air.”

“A classic,” Joel commends.

“Indeed.”

Inside the theater Sarah goes to the restroom leaving you and Joel momentarily alone.

“Have you been avoiding me?” He asks.

“A little,” you say, not wanting to lie. “Not because I want to. It’s just,” you look toward the bathrooms.

“I get it,” Joel says. “Guilt’s been getting to me too.”

His hands are shoved in his back pockets and he’s looking at the thin, red carpeting. The only thing you want to do right now is shove your hands in there with his.

“Maybe we should,” you start but stop when Joel nods.

“Probably best.” Though he doesn’t sound like he believes it.

You’ve seen Lost Highway before but you find yourself losing the plot because Joel’s thigh is angled just slightly into your space. When you entered the theater Sarah walked into the row first leaving you and Joel next to each other. You don’t know if he’s man-spreading on purpose just to make you regret the conversation you had in the lobby but that is certainly the effect it’s having.

You and Sarah go use the bathroom between the films while Joel goes to get you both drinks.

“You don’t mind that I invited my dad, right?” Sarah asks as she washed her hands.

You look at her through the mirror. “Of course not.”

“Okay good, he’s been a little mopey this week, not sure what’s up with him.”

You bring your attention back to your hands, all of a sudden very focused on making sure they’re as clean as possible.

Sarah is basically vibrating as you exit the theater.

“Ugh, I just want to be Angelina Jolie,” she exclaims. “That movie gets me so fired up. Also, I’m starving. Let’s go get dinner.”

You don’t look at Joel and you don’t wait for him to say anything.

“I can’t do dinner,” you say diplomatically. You point at the nearby P.C. Richards. “I need a new dishwasher. I’m going to run over there before they close.”

“What’s wrong with your dishwasher?” Sarah asks.

“It plays Camptown Races every time it finishes a cycle. It’s driving me crazy.”

When Sarah doesn’t respond Joel jumps in.

“You’d prefer On Top of Old Smokey?”

“A superior slice of Americana, I think anyone would agree.”

Joel jaw shifts as he tries, and fails, not to smile at you. You lose the same battle.

“So it’s really just broken?” Sarah clarifies and by way reminds you that she’s there.

“Exactly.”

“Well, that sounds like a job for: Joel Miller!” Sarah jazz-hands in her father’s direction.

When you don’t respond immediately Sarah fills in. “My dad can fix anything, He’s a handyman superhero.”

Don’t think about Joel in a tool belt. Don’t think about Joel in a tool belt. Don’t –

“Sarah, she might not want a stranger in her house,” Joel reasons.

“You’re not a stranger! You're my dad and I’m her work wife, that basically makes you two related.”

Joel looks at you, panic in his dark brown eyes.

“Maybe your dad has something better to do than fix a broken dishwasher on his Saturday night.” Is your try.

Sarah scoffs. “Yeah right.” She’s already heading to the parking lot, the decision made. “I’m sure his toolbox is already in his truck, isn’t it Dad?”

You’re all standing in front of Joel’s pickup as Sarah waits expectantly for his response.

Joel nods in defeat.

“See? It works out perfectly. I’m going to meet up with Gabby. Talk to you later, Dad.” She gives him a quick kiss. “See you on Monday, wifey.” And then she’s walking toward her car, typing away on her phone, leaving you and Joel in stunned silence.

“You really don’t –”

“–Get in the truck.”

To Joel’s credit, he does fix your dishwasher.

“I can’t believe you were going to just buy a new one.” The admonishment is slightly muffled as he pushes the dishwasher back against the wall.

“In my defense, last time I had the building handyman in here to fix an appliance he asked ‘how come a pretty little thing like you doesn’t have a husband’.” You layer on your best Texas twang.

Joel winces. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, so now when shit breaks I just buy a new one. Maybe money can't buy happiness, but it can keep misogynistic assholes out of my apartment.”

Joel puts his tools away and comes to stand near you. Not quite close enough to touch, not quite far enough away that you can’t smell his woodsy-scented deodorant.

With his hands on his hips he looks like he has something to say.

“Go ahead and ask.”

Joel put his hands up like he’s blocking a shot to the face. “I didn’t say anything.”

You’re leaning back against the kitchen island, bitten lip smile looking up at Joel.

“Was married. Did that thing that young, stupid women do when faced with a man’s bad habits. They think they can live with them, or worse, fix them. Turns out I couldn’t do either.”

“That how you ended up in Texas?”

You nod.

“Sorry that happened to you.”

“I’m glad I ended up here.” You unfold your arms and lean your elbows back on the counter top. It’s not exactly an invitation. “Can I offer you dinner, as a thank you for fixing my dishwasher?”

Maybe that’s an invitation. Joel certainly takes it as one.

“I could eat.”

And that’s how you end up spread out on your kitchen island, Joel Miller’s head between your thighs, his hair twisted tight between your fingers. The sound of him lapping at your wetness is louder than the buzzing in your ears.

“Fuck, Joel,” you mumble incoherently just to make sure you can still form words.

“We’re gonna get to that, sweetheart,” he says just as he curls two thick fingers inside you and sucks on your clit. “I think maybe we’ve been going about this wrong. I think maybe we just need to get this out of our systems.”

You lift your head just in time to see Joel nip at your inner thigh.

“You want to just go at it all night?” A smirk on your face as he makes eye contact with you.

His eyes glimmer under your too-bright kitchen light. “‘Til you’re bored of me.”

You’re pretty sure that’s not possible but you don’t see the downside to his suggestion. Unless, of course, tomorrow comes and the withdrawal is worse than the overdose.

~~~

“Did your dishwasher get fixed?” Sarah’s head pops into your office. Her dark, round eyes look hopefully at you.

And then some is what you don’t say.

“It did.”

“See! I told you my dad could fix it. He can really fix anything. It was kind of annoying when I was a kid because I wasn’t allowed to get anything new until he had noodled away at if for awhile first.” Sarah smiles at a memory you’re not privy to. “Of course, I get it now. We didn’t have that much money and my dad didn’t want to waste it. Not that he’s cheap,” she quickly amends. “He’s really generous.”

You just nod because you’re not sure how to respond to the Joel Miller lovefest without giving away your own affection for the man.

“I know it’s kind of lame, but my dad is really my favorite person. He’s the best guy I know.”

She’s so damn earnest it nearly kills you. It also makes you sure that you’re doing the right thing by keeping away from Joel. How could you get in between him and his daughter? You feel bad enough that you’ve been seeing him behind her back. You would never forgive yourself if you damaged their relationship.

For the next three weeks you and Joel are radio silent. No texts, no calls, no visitations. You feel like you’ve been grounded. You try to distract yourself. You even agree to go on a blind date a friend has been trying to set you up on. Her husband’s cousin just moved to town. You know it’s a bad idea but you say yes anyway. The guy is fine. He’s nice. Perfectly nice.

He’s just not Joel Miller.

~~~

“I scored a table at Dente for tonight. You wanna go?” Sarah is entering your office with an afternoon coffee.

“Who am I replacing?” You ask with a knowing smile.

Sarah’s mouth opens wide and then closes when she realizes she can’t lie effectively.

“I was supposed to go on a date with this guy, Arnold. Turns out he’s way older than I thought he was. Like, he remembers when Ross Perot ran for president.” Sarah shakes her head. “It would be like dating one of my dad’s friends.”

“So you’re replacing one old person for another?”

Sarah shrugs. “Kinda.”

You laugh even as you scowl at her. “Does this mean I have to pay for dinner in order for you to put out?”

“I’m a modern woman, we can split dinner. The putting out will depend on how well you woo me over entrees.”

“Prepared to be wooed, Miller.”  

The restaurant isn’t far from your apartment and it’s a cool evening, by Texas standards, so you walk. Approaching the restaurant on foot gives you the opportunity to watch Sarah get out of a familiar red truck. You slow down, thinking that maybe Joel is just dropping her off and you can avoid seeing him. When he steps out of the truck and follows Sarah to the front of the restaurant you know that’s not the case. You steady yourself, preparing for what will likely be an awkward dinner.

Sarah waves when she sees you. You’re close enough to see the surprise on Joel’s face at your appearance.

“Are we a table for three this evening?” You ask by way of hello.

“Actually,” Sarah starts. Her pretty face scrunches with guilt. “I can’t stay, but I figured since the reservation is hard to get, and they would charge me if I canceled last minute, that I would just let you two use it!” She smiles and claps her hands like this is the best idea she’s ever had.

It’s not. It’s not even a good idea. It doesn’t make any sense.

Unless.

An ironic thought hits you.

“Sarah, are you trying to set me up with your dad?” Your arms cross in front of you and you cock your head questioningly at her.

Sarah’s gaze finds the ground.

“Sarah,” Joel’s voice warns. It’s a demanding and parental tone that should not turn you on but it does. “Answer her question.”

“Maybe?” Sarah’s voice lilts. “A little bit?”

“Sarah!” Joel scolds.

“This whole time?”

Sarah shrugs sheepishly. “Just since you two met at my birthday party. You seemed to be getting along so well! And then I thought about how similar you both are, and how you like so much of the same stuff. And, I mean,” she tosses her arms out the side, “why wouldn’t I want my favorite two people to be happy?”

You cover your face with your hand for a moment before you look up at Joel. The moment you make eye contact you’re both laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

But you’re both laughing to hard to answer.

“Oh my god, wait, have you two been seeing each other?” Sarah’s eyes go wide. “Dad, is this the mystery woman in your phone?”

Joel bites down in his lower lip to keep from answering.

“Oh my god, you two!” Sarah smacks both of your arms. “I can’t believe you’ve been sneaking around behind my back!”

“Hey, you don’t get to be upset about it now,” you point out.

Sarah is already smiling. She covers her mouth with her hands for a moment before leaning over to you. “So did he fix anything other than the dishwasher?”

“Oh no,” Joel says, pushing the two of you apart. “We’re not doing this.”

You bob your eyebrows at Sarah and she squeals with delight. Joel scrubs a hand down his face in defeat.

“Okay,” Sarah says, “I’m leaving. You two love birds have fun at dinner.” She’s prancing down the block without another word to you or Joel.

“So,” you say.

“So.” Joel looks you over. “You look real pretty.”

You brush a hand down his crisp black button down. “You look pretty too.”

The corner of his lip ticks up.

“Do you want to?” You gesture toward the restaurant.

Joel looks like he is weighing your suggestion against one of his own.

“You’re apartment’s pretty close to here.”

You smile at his non-question. “Joel Miller, are you suggesting we skip dinner and get right to dessert?”

He shrugs.

You thumb at his truck. “Let’s go.”

You step in that direction but Joel grabs you by the arm and pulls you back to him. He cups your cheek and kisses you softly, lips pressed against yours waiting for you to respond. You do. Your mouth opens and he deepens the kiss, his other arm snakes around your body pulling it tight against his.

“I’m not usually much for P.D.A,” Joel says as he releases you. “But I really wanted to try that on.”

Your fingers are still gripping the back of his shirt, tugging it loose from where it’s tucked in.

“And how does it fit?”

“Real good, darlin’. Real good.”

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Wow. Are we talking about fucking Joel or talking about fucking me?!

Fucking him in his hospital grade bed that has lumbar support for his bad back. Riding his orthopedic boots lined with Dr Scholl’s insoles for plantar fasciitis. He can’t finger you on account of the arthritis. Organizing his fiber supplements and blood pressure medication into one of those daily container things. Pocket full of Werther’s Originals rattling around during backshots. Fucking at 3pm, because supper is at 4 and bedtime is at 6. Being mindful of his bad knee.

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The MOST dad thing joel miller has ever done is walk into his daughters room with the intent to fix some deep emotional hurt and been like ...wELL your guitar strings are shot imma fix them don't you worry see ya later and hustle out without saying another goddamn word

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🥵🥵🥵

You oughta know

4k2 | Clint Flood x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: after your ex breaks your heart yet again, you ask your dad’s best friend for a favour Warnings: 18+ mdni. Age gap (reader is 20, Clint is in his late 40s, early 50s), virginity loss, dbf!Clint, Clint is a little sleazy but soft, pet names (Clint calls reader kid, honey, baby), pussy pronouns, praise kink, oral (f/m), unprotected piv, creampie

a/n: writing really helps to process things. So this one is dedicated to one of my shitty ex bf (no dbf in my own story, tho). To my 16 yo self: you did great, girl 🫂😘 The fic is titled after “You oughta know” by Alanis Morissette, this absolutely perfect and full of rage banger. Shameless use of some lyrics at the end of the fic Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for being you, and for beta-ing me💕🫶 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏

You and Mike have never been a thing for a long time, or a thing at all. When he offered you a drink one night, you didn't tell him to fuck off, even though he had already broke your heart twice. Seemed that you were a kind of girl who thought she could fix the fucked up ones.

The way it ended the third time was the worst.

"Still a virgin? Yeah, that's not gonna work. I want someone who knows how to suck a cock, you know? Or to ride me. Not someone who knows nothing."

You ran into him again a few days later, his arm wrapped around some girl’s waist. She was prettier than you, more confident. And probably more experienced. They laughed when they saw you.

Fucking assholes.

You dragged your broken heart around for a while, until you saw Clint one night at the bar, shamelessly making out with a woman, his hand cupping her breast over her top. He was sitting on a barstool, she was standing between his thighs, and the way he was kissing and touching her made you stop dead in your tracks. It was hot, and for a moment you imagined yourself in her place and your pussy clenched. You were more turned on by that sight of him than by any other guys who had kissed you before. Including Mike. 

Clint was your father's best friend, he often came to the trailer where your dad and you lived, and they would drink beers and watch a game. Unlike his friend, your father was not really reliable, too often drunk, and a real jerk. Telling you off a thousand times for your mother leaving him. Forgetting that she had left you too, when she’d run away from him.

Clint was cool even though it pissed you off when he called you “kid”. He didn’t give a shit, and seemed to enjoy it, looking straight into your eyes with a smile on his lips.

When your dad ended up drunk on the couch, Clint would often smoke a cigarette with you, then give you a few more before driving off in his Chevrolet. He wasn't much of a talker, but at least he wasn't a jerk. And he was hot.

So when you saw him at the bar that night, you thought about your shitty ex and got angry. He wanted you to be experienced? You were going to fix it with someone who would surely know how to handle it.

A few days later, Clint mentioned to your father about going to the movies the next night, and you knew he always liked to go alone. 

Now Clint had a date with you, he just didn't know it yet. And you had to figure out how to convince him.

The movie was at 6 pm, and you finished work at 4. That gave you time to shower before going to the cinema.

Your father was home when you got there, and you wondered if he'd already been fired from his new job. As usual, he made a comment about your skirt being too short when you left. You didn't reply, got in your car and put on some music, trying to control your anxiety.

Clint’s car was already parked on the street when you arrived, and once you entered the movie theater you spotted him immediately at the back row. You went to sit next to him, and he saw you as you were walking along the seats, his usual reserved expression set on his face.

“What are you doing here, kid?”

You were so anxious that you didn't even roll your eyes at the usual nickname.

“Watching a movie. What are you doing here?” you retorted, trying not to show how nervous you were. He shrugged, and you sat down next to him, your short skirt reaching mid-thigh. His gaze slid over your legs for a second before returning to the screen, and the movie started.

He glanced at your thighs once or twice during the movie, and it gave you the courage to brush his arm and an elbow a few times with your own. He never pulled away until he finally turned to you and whispered, “you wanna explain what you're doin’?”

“Come with me,” you said as you stood up- not sure if he was going to follow you, but you could feel the heat of his gaze on your ass. You waited by the bathroom and he joined you a few seconds later.

“You're making me miss the movie,” he grumbled.

“It’s a shitty one anyway,” you replied as you pushed the door to the men's bathroom and entered before checking that no one was there. 

"I need your help," you said and quickly explained what you needed from him, not overthinking it for once.

A man opened the door and entered before Clint had time to react to your words. Your father’s friend turned to him, and growled, "it’s busy."

The man’s eyes lingered on you, so Clint took a step closer to him and asked, “the fuck you're looking at?” The guy didn't argue and left. You heard him open the women's restrooms and rolled your eyes.

Clint turned to you, a questioning look on his face. “You want me to fuck you? For your first time?”

“Yeah.”

“To piss off that jerk and get him back?”

“Yeah...”

He scoffed. “This is the dumbest shit ever.”

Your eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment. You thought that after today when he‘d come to the trailer it would be awkward, that you were very naive to tell him about everything, carried away by your anger. That you should have overthought it.

“You shouldn't go back to him after that.”

His implied sentence made you raise your head and you looked at him hopefully.

“I'm not one of those men who whine some shit like “oh no, no… you're my friend's daughter, I won't fuck you.” Fuck it. You wanna fuck? I'll fuck you, no problem.”

Your smile went wide. “Great. In here?” you asked, pointing at one of the stalls, and he sneered at your words. 

“Damn, you're not a subtle kind, kid. No, not here, ‘course not. You can't take this cock like that. Well, you could, but I'm not sure you'd like it. Need some time to get you ready.”

“Ok, when then?” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks at your completely uncontrolled impatience.

“Jeez, he really pissed you,” he smirked. “You're on the pill or something?”

“No, I’m not... Didn’t really need to.”

“Well, honey. I won't pull out, and I won't fuck you with a condom. I'll fuck you raw." 

"I'll get the pill, then," you replied. He nodded, then told you to come to his place on Friday night. 

"Ok. But Clint?… you're clean, right?” 

“ ‘course I'm clean, honey.”

“I thought you'd chicken out,” he smirked when he opened the door for you on Friday. “But you didn't,” he added, taking you in from head to toe.

You rolled your eyes and said “and you? you didn’t chicken out?”

He chuckled. “Told you, you wanna get fucked, I'm all in. I won't say ‘no’ to a tight, virgin cunt, kid. Just don't tell your father, obviously. Don't need that shit in my life. And you aren’t spending the night here. I don’t wanna be rude, ok? But sometimes we can feel… things, after the first time. It can't happen, it would be too damn complicated. Ok? It’s just sex.”

You nodded, a little shy to be in front of him, now that you fully realized what was going to happen soon.

“Okay. So, what have you already done, sexually?”

“I.. ehm… watch porn.”

He raised his eyebrows then said “porn ain't real life, honey. What else?”

“I jerked off a guy once.”

“You made him come?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice,” he nodded, as if to encourage you. “Ok, what else?”

You shook your head.

“Nothing? Nobody ever went down on you?”

“No.” 

“Guys are so stupid, nowadays, damn…” he said, shaking his head. “Okay, undress and lie down on the bed.”

You hesitated and looked around, silently asking for his help.

“I'm not really the romantic type, you know?”

“Come on, Clint. Help me a little, ok?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, and something flashed through his eyes. As if he somehow realized that you needed some softness.

He nodded and moved closer to you, pulling your top off. You looked at him shyly as his gaze lowered to your breasts before he cupped them with his large, warm hands. You shivered at the touch of his skin. He bent down, took your nipple in his mouth and sucked on it slowly, making it twirl under his tongue. 

Then he took you in his arms. You weren’t expecting it but it was comforting. He was so big that it felt like being enveloped in a protective cocoon of warmth and your body relaxed. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close. He breathed in your scent, nuzzling the spot just below your ear, then said “lie down” in a low voice.

Once on the bed he knelt between your legs and grabbed the hem of your pants, pulled them down, then your panties followed.

“Gonna stretch you, ok? Besides, I like eating pussies. Feeling them getting all soaked for me.”

“Oh mmm…” you said, clearing your throat. “Ok.”

“You're gonna enjoy this, don't worry,” he said with a smirk.

He took off his plaid shirt and a gray t-shirt. He was so damn massive, broad. And hot. And you.. you weren't sure what to do with your arms, hesitant to cover your breasts, even though it was probably a little odd.

“No need to be shy in front of me. It's all natural.”

He got up and took off his pants and socks, keeping his boxers on. Your curiosity led you to look at his crotch. He was massive there, too.

“You, uh… ever done this before? Before me?”

“Being someone’s first? Oh, yeah,” he replied, climbing back onto the bed. “You girls like to let a real man take care of it. Someone who knows what he’s doing, right? Makes you feel safe.”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I feel safe.”

“Good. Now, do you know what happens when a virgin’s being eaten for the first time?”

You shook your head. You obviously had no idea what would happen.

“She comes really quickly.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks again, and you gasped when he spread your thighs with his large hands. You couldn’t believe he was going to go down on you right there, that he wanted to eat you out, to fuck you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, covering your mouth with your hand, when he licked a long stripe from your folds to your clit. 

“I fucking love being the first, you know that? Your ex’s a fool.”

He circled your pussy with his lips and started licking, with the flat of his tongue.

“Oh god,” you whined, squeezing your breasts with your hands.

“Hands on my head, kid. Hold on to it.”

You'd always been annoyed by that nickname, but the fact that he was using it, right now, was the hottest thing ever. He spread your folds with his thumbs and pressed his broad shoulders against your thighs, pushing on them, while still lapping at your cunt. It was sloppy, messy, grunts falling from his mouth, as your hands were holding onto his head tightly. It was so different from touching yourself. The sensations coursing through your body were unfamiliar but so overwhelming, and you felt your limbs tremble and your hair stand up when his nose brushed at your clit.

“Clint, I… fuck?!”

The heat in your lower abdomen was burning you up alive, increasing with every lick of his tongue. He was taking his time and stopped just before you came. You were about to whine, when you saw him staring at your cunt.

“Look at that. She's so messy for me,” he said, eyes fixed on your pussy. “She likes it and wonders why she never got eaten before, right? Well, because this one,” he said, raising his eyes to you, “only dated dumbasses.”

He pushed in a finger, slowly, making you whimper. His digit was thick, much bigger than yours. He pumped it in and out a little, slowly, and smiled as he felt your pussy clench.

“You're gonna choke my cock so hard, baby,” he chuckled, then wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. Your fists clenched his curls hard, making him growl, but he didn't ask you to stop or to release your grip.

“Mmm,” he hummed, still sucking on your bud. “These fucking kids don't know what's good anymore. They just want to get their dick sucked, and thrust in a cunt 3 or 4 times before shooting their load. Jeez.”

He played with the tip of his tongue, teasing your most sensitive spot. You felt your pussy drip along his skin and down your crack.

When you already thought you were close to seeing stars, he pressed a second finger against your pussy, without pushing it inside. Just flattening it against your skin, below the entrance, then his tongue swirled around your clit.

“Oh fuck… oh fuck!!”

“Let it go. Come for me, give it to me,” he breathed between two licks.

“I don't know how, I… the feeling is so… so strong…”

“Just let it go, kid,” he said, sucking again, and you did, coming hard on his mouth, seeing stars for real, your hands clinging to his head.

His tongue rested on your clit until your shaking stopped completely, your legs and stomach relaxed. Only then he withdrew his fingers and licked your folds clean off your wetness. Your head was tilted to the side, resting on the pillow, your breathing slowly going down. You were unable to open your eyes, fully savoring that new sensation of post climax. 

You felt the mattress rise and opened your eyes. He was standing beside the bed, pulling his boxers down. His cock sprang free, hard, heavy, its red tip oozing.

“I wanna suck you off,” you said, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Can I? I wanna learn this too.”

“I won't stop you. Go ahead,” he said, letting his arms rest at his sides.

“Tell me what to do,” you told him, eyes locked with his.

“Run your hand between your legs, get them wet. And jerk me off. Gently.” He watched you slowly running your fingers between your folds, lightly brushing your sensitive clit and you could swear his cock got even bigger when you looked back at it.

You wrapped your fingers around his shaft and he placed his hand on yours, setting the rhythm.

“Don't squeeze too hard, yeah, just like that. Keep going, wrist loose. Yeah, you're doing good.”

Your gaze was fixed on his cock, your mind on his breathing. You wanted to do it well, wanted him to praise you, to hear him breathe heavily. You dragged your fist up and down his length, slowly, and he growled.

“Now, spread the precum with your thumb, on the tip. Shit, yeah, just like that.” 

His fingers still circled yours, but the pace was yours now. He placed his thumb on his slit before bringing it to your lips.

“Taste it,” he said. You looked up at him, circled his thumb with your lips and swirled your tongue around it, slowly.

“Good?” he asked.

You nodded and sucked until his thumb no longer tasted like him, then you moved his hand away, gently, darting your tongue to lick his crying tip.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you rounded your lips and took him in your mouth. You didn’t really know how to do it, but you were eager for his cock and needed to feel him more. Fully. 

He placed his hand on your head, then said “that’s ok, keep it… keep it between your lips. Focus on the tip for now, suck on it. Yeah, that’s good, kid. Shit....”

You kept going and felt your pussy drooling again. You slid your fingers between your folds and stroked your clit, without thinking, without really realizing what was happening, just answering your physical needs.

“Yeah, rub it for me, baby. Get her ready for me.”

His hand was still on your head, but he wasn't forcing you. "Stay on the tip. You'll have plenty of time to learn more."

Your brain couldn't process his words and their implication, drunk from the taste of him running down your throat, from his praise, from your fingers sliding against your soaked folds.

“You're so fuckin’ pretty like this, sucking on my cock.”

You couldn't resist the temptation of taking him in a little more. He felt heavy on your tongue. His hips jerked and precum flooded your throat.

“Ok, that’s it, that’s it,” he said, cupping your cheek with his hand. “You ready?” he asked, his thumb brushing your skin. You looked up at him, and wondered if your eyes were as wild as his. If you looked a bit of a wreck, too. Probably.

“Mmm? You ready?” he repeated. 

You snapped out of your thoughts and nodded. 

“Ok, lie down.” His voice was low, calm.

You did as he said and he took place between your thighs, supporting his weight on one elbow.

“You still wanna do this?”

You nodded and he replied “okay,” grabbed his shaft and rubbed it against your wet folds before nestling it at your entrance.

“Look at you, so damn gorgeous, all ready to take my cock,” he added, and he pushed in, slowly, just a few inches. The feeling was already enough to make him lean his head back as he felt how tight you were, his strained neck just within reach of your mouth. You pressed a kiss there, right on his throbbing veins. Maybe to think about something else, to forget how stretched your folds were around his tip. When he pushed a little deeper you whined, sensing your body resisting him.

“Fuck, Clint… it’s…”

“I know. But you can do it,” he panted. “Just… just a little more.” He pushed in and didn’t stop this time, despite your body trying to keep him away. He bottomed out and grunted “fuck” and “shit” a few times, but you barely heard him, digging your nails into his strong biceps, until your discomfort passed.

His breathing was heavy, his jaw clenched hard, with him trying to not shoot his load already. 

“Fuck, that’s it, shit… you feel so good, goddamn…”

He pulled back and pushed in again, slowly. “You ok?” he asked, his face lowered to yours. You nodded, your fingers gripping his skin a little less tightly.

“That jerk doesn’t know what he’s missed,” he murmured, pushing in and out slowly, his eyes closed again. 

“I’m glad you did it,” you whispered, and he looked at you. “I'm glad I did it with you.”

“Mmm… let’s try to make you come on my cock, ok?”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re gonna give me one more, baby? Gonna clench on it?”

“I don't know… I don't know if I can.”

“You can. Just don’t overthink it, ok? Lick it for me,” he said, bringing his finger to your lips. Then he slid his hand between your two bodies, down to your clit. Rolling it gently, face lowered towards you.

“You're doing great, kid. You're perfect.”

You nodded. You felt good now, the pain already forgotten, and you were finally able to look at him, to really look at him, while he was thrusting into you. Looking at his hair, the drops of sweat that beaded on his forehead, his obsidian eyes. Your fingers ran up his arms up to his shoulders, his muscles rolling under your skin. You felt his cock twitch inside you at your touch, and he bit his lip.

“You like it?” you murmured.

He swallowed and said “yeah… yeah, I like it, honey. You feel so good around me.”

You closed your eyes for a few moments, his digit stroking you perfectly, then said “kiss me.”

“It's not a good idea,” he objected.

“You dick's inside me... Come on.” You didn't wait for him to respond and cupped his cheeks with your hands, pulling him closer until your noses and mouths brushed. You felt his breath against your lips and pressed them to his, whispering, "kiss me." He pulled back slightly, staring into your eyes, then wet his lips with his tongue before finally giving in, his hips rolling toward yours, his finger still stroking your clit. His lips carried the taste of you, and you wondered if he could taste his own on your tongue.

You loved the feeling of him inside you, his lips on yours, his tongue against yours. Your pussy clenched around him, and he whimpered. “You're so close. You feel it?”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he slid his free hand down to your breast, along your torso, then grabbed your hip. Rolling inside you, deliciously, perfectly.

“I… yeah, I feel it, Clint. It’s growing,” you said, your forehead against his.

“Come for me, baby. Come on my cock.”

You whined and let it happen, didn’t fight it like a few minutes earlier. You let your body shudder, your back arching, as his hand slipped into the crook behind it to hold you against him while he kept thrusting in.

“Shit, yeah… fuck!” he growled, and froze inside you before pushing in again, a little faster. “Shit, I’m… I’m gonna come, kid. Gonna fill you up.”

He grabbed your hips with his two hands, and barely slowed down as he came, long ropes of cum hitting the back of your cunt, grunts and moans escaping from the depths of his chest pressed against yours.

He pumped you full of his cum, and you felt every jolt of his cock inside you. The emotions you felt were so strong you could have cried, and you hugged him tight. He brushed your cheek and you kissed his neck one last time, then he lay on his side. You stayed on your back for a few moments, catching your breath.

“So what’s the deal with that guy?” Clint asked. “How did he get so into your head that you wanted to do it because of what he told you?”

You turned to him, and tried to explain your thought process. “He already broke my heart twice before that. That’s probably why I was so into him… stupid red flags attraction.”

It made Clint laugh and you did too, then kept talking. “But when he told me he didn’t want to be with me because I was a virgin, it pissed me off. I guess I wanted to get him back.”

“He’s a jerk. Don’t let him poison your thoughts like that.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I know.”

“Now… Why me?”

“Well, you’re hot. Yes, you are!” you insisted, seeing his disbelief. “And… I saw you with that woman the other night, at the bar. It was hot, the way you were touching her. I wanted you to touch me like this.”

“Mmm, ok. So… Was this what you were hoping for?”

“Yeah… Yeah. Choose the perfect guy.”

You got up and got dressed, remembering what he told you when you arrived.

“D’ya need a ride?”

“No, it's fine. I got my car.”

“Don't fall in love with me, kid.” he told you when you opened the door. “It’s just sex. Let’s not complicate things, ok?”

“Don't you fall in love with me, old man,” you said, letting him see your wide smile before you closed the door behind you. 

You kept seeing each other, despite his words. It definitely wasn’t just sex. You didn't really talk about it, it just happened like that. You would mostly meet at his apartment, since your dad had been fired from his job and was often at the trailer.

One evening, you two went to a bar. One where you were sure you wouldn't run into your father.

"Oh, shit," you said, recognizing a familiar figure in the crowd.

“What?”

“It’s him, over there. My ex.”

“That guy?” he asked, pointing at him. “Let’s piss him off, kid.”

“Hi,” Mike said when he saw you, a slightly uneasy smile on his lips. “It's been a while since I saw you.” He looked at Clint and frowned, then said “you huh… wanna hang out sometime?”

Clint put his arm around your shoulder, letting you know he was here for you, glare fixed on your ex. You squeezed Clint's hand in yours, then said “no… I prefer experienced men, you know?” You hesitated, then added, “and every time I scratch my nails down his back, I hope you feel it.” The way his jaw dropped was worth all the tears you'd cried for him.

You looked up at Clint and smiled at him, then said, "let’s go."

other virginity loss fics:

After (qz!Joel) A summer with the Millers (dbf!Tommy x reader x Joel)

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[bitchesuntitled]

This sounds so good!!!!

I Think Of You All Of The Time - mini series masterlist (coming soon)

Young Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (my whole blog is over 18’s only please) Summary: Best friends to lovers, to worse. Mini Series Content: Childhood best friends - we meet Dieter and reader at 17 but follow them over the years as they can’t get their shit together, begins in 2002. Emotional torment, VERY heavy on the angst and the yearning, infidelity, slow burn leading to smut (when D & reader are in their 20’s). Serious misuse of drugs and alcohol. There will be heavy themes so do read warnings on individual chapters. Limited physical descriptions of female reader. Fucking about with canon. Soulmates & Best friends to toxic lovers. Always fleabag coded. Listen to: Someday I’ll get it by Alex Olsen & That Time by Regina Spektor.

A/N: I tired not to write Dieter Bravo. Failed spectacularly. Bon appetit! I’ll be dropping one a week & I so hope you like it, I'm obsessed with them.

🖤 Part 1: 2002 coming Thursday 17th April

🖤 Part 2: 2008 coming Thursday 24th April

🖤 Part 3: 2014 coming Thursday 1st May

🖤 Part 4: 2016 coming Thursday 8th May

🖤 Part 5: 2019 coming Thursday 15th May

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Tagging in some pals & Dieter fans, let me know if you’d prefer to be taken off:

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@sawymredfox @arcanefox207 @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @sin-djarin

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All images Pinterest & dividers from @saradika-graphics