daddypascal17

[daddypascal17]

3, 2, 1, ACTION . ݁₊ ⊹ . 📽.ᐟ

based on this ask | masterlist | 2.8k words | 📹 | having sex and recording it, kissing, oral f!receiving, unprotected piv sex, switch povs, m!masturbating, edging | i had sm fun w/ this tysm for requesting! |

summary: you found an old but working camera while out on patrol. instead of thinking about take pictures and creating memories something else completely took over your mind…

You found it buried in the snow just past the perimeter—half-dead, lens cracked on one side, but the battery still blinked when you thumbed it on. A camera. God knows who dropped it, or when, or what it had seen before it landed in your hands. It didn’t matter.

You carried it home like it meant something. Like it had a purpose.

Joel sat on the couch in his flannel and jeans, working a knot out of his boot lace, fingers slow, tired. You watched him from the doorway a second too long, camera heavy in your jacket pocket. He looked up.

“What?” he asked, soft but suspicious.

You swallowed your nerves. “I brought us somethin’.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Unless it’s dinner, I ain’t in the mood.”

You walked over, pulled it out like it was a damn wedding ring. Set it gently on the coffee table between you. “It’s a camera.”

Joel glanced at it, uninterested. “Yeah. And?”

“And it works.”

He blinked. “Okay.”

You sat next to him, thigh brushing his thigh. “I was thinkin’… maybe we could use it.”

A pause.

He turned slowly to face you. “Use it how?”

You hesitated, cheeks burning. You hadn’t meant to say it so soon, but the way he was looking at you—all stern and unreadable—made you want to push. Made you want to crawl in his lap and ask for things you shouldn’t.

“I wanna record us,” you said. Quiet. Honest. “Just once.”

His jaw tensed. “What do you mean—us?”

“You know what I mean.”

Joel stared at you like you’d lost your mind. “Sweetheart…”

You got to your knees in front of him before he could keep talking. Looked up at him, palms splayed on his thighs.

“I just wanna see it,” you said, desperate now. “Wanna see how you touch me. How you—fuck, Joel, how you look when you’re inside me.”

His hands hovered like he didn’t know where to put them. “That’s not—baby, that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“You really want somethin’ like that lyin’ around? It could be dangerous.”

“I’ll keep it safe. No one’ll ever see it but me.” Your fingers curled around his belt. “Please, Joel. Just once. For me.”

He exhaled hard. Looked down at you, torn and twitchy and so close to giving in. His hand finally dropped, touching your cheek.

“You don’t need a camera,” he said, voice low. “You got me right here.”

You leaned into his hand. “But I wanna keep you forever.”

That did it. You felt it in the way his thighs shifted under your palms. In the soft groan he tried to swallow. In the way his thumb dragged across your lips like he was already picturing it.

He closed his eyes.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Once. But you stay close. You do exactly what I say.”

Your smile was slow. “Always do.”

Joel cursed under his breath.

And when you got up, went to set the camera just right on the nightstand, you didn’t miss the way his hands were already undoing his belt.

You can hear the soft, static click of the record button, and that’s it. No beeping. No countdown. Just that tiny blink of red in the corner of the room, steady and quiet like it’s watching you breathe.

Joel’s sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread, shirt already off, that strong, tired body on full display—his chest dusted with gray hair, thighs flexing as he watches you set up the frame. His jeans are undone, waistband tugged low, the bulge in his boxers thick and heavy, straining.

He’s already half-hard.

“You’re sure?” he asks again, voice low and rough.

You nod, stepping toward him slowly. You crawl between his legs and place your hands on his thighs, the denim warm under your palms. “It’s already recording.”

Joel drags a hand down his face like he’s regretting every decision he’s ever made—but when you kiss the inside of his knee and trail your mouth up the inseam, you feel him twitch under the fabric.

“Jesus,” he mutters.

“You don’t even have to look at it,” you whisper, lifting your eyes to his brown ones. “Just look at me.”

And when you lean up to kiss him, he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you back so hard your breath catches in your throat. The kind of kiss that makes your knees weak. Tongue slow, patient, possessive. Like he’s trying to brand the shape of you into his mouth.

By the time he pulls away, you’re gasping.

“Clothes off,” he says hoarsely. “C’mon. Let me see you.”

You undress for him—slow, tugging your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, slipping your pants down one leg at a time. He watches every second. Not the camera. You.

When you’re bare in front of him, he lets out a low breath. His hands slide up your thighs, thumbs tracing the skin just above your knees.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re already wet.”

You nod, dizzy. “Joel—please.”

“Lay back.”

You do. Back hitting the mattress, legs spreading for him automatically. He crawls over you, bigger than the bed, arms braced on either side of your head. His mouth brushes your ear.

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at the fuckin’ camera. I want you to feel this.”

He kisses down your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His tongue drags slowly and heavy over one nipple, then the other, before he kisses down your belly and sinks between your thighs like he belongs there.

And when his mouth finds you—warm, wet, perfect—you arch with a soft cry. His tongue is patient. Flat, dragging circles over your clit, then flicking faster, lips sucking it until you’re whimpering, twitching, trying not to close your eyes.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Let it show.”

You’re already shaking when he finally rises to his knees and strokes himself—slow and hard, leaking at the tip. You watch the way he fists it, how red and thick it looks in his hand, and you whimper.

“I want it,” you breathe. “Inside.”

Joel groans low in his throat. He lines up, runs the head of his cock through your slick folds, and just barely pushes in.

The stretch burns—thick, aching, perfect—and your mouth falls open on a gasp.

“Oh my God— Joel—”

“That’s it,” he growls. “Let the camera hear how good I fuck you.”

He thrusts deeper, watching your face twist, jaw slack, your breath catching. He moves slow—so slow—until he’s buried to the base, hips flush against yours.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he grits. “Always so good for me.”

He pulls out almost all the way and pushes in again, groaning as your cunt clenches around him. One hand slips under your thigh and hooks it higher around his waist, opening you more, making room.

Each thrust drags the air from your lungs.

He keeps it steady, rhythm deep and deliberate, hips rocking into yours as your body trembles. Your moans are high and desperate, choked off by the sheer pressure of him inside you.

You try to speak. Try to say his name. But it just comes out as noise.

Joel chuckles darkly, voice fucked-out. “You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted to see how I ruin you?”

You nod helplessly, eyes wet.

“Look at how easy you come apart,” he mutters, fucking into you a little harder now. “You’ll watch this back with your hand between your thighs, won’t you? Pretending' it’s me.”

You moan louder, body jolting.

“Say it.”

“Y-yeah,” you stammer. “I—fuck, Joel—I will.”

And then it happens—

He changes.

The moment your voice breaks, something flickers in him. His hips snap harder. His breath hitches. His hand grips your jaw tight enough to keep you still as he fucks you like he’s gone feral.

“You’re mine,” he growls. “Every fuckin’ inch of you. Look at how you take me. Like you were made for it.”

The camera is forgotten.

Now it’s just skin and sweat and the wet sound of you taking him again and again, your cunt sucking him in so greedily it makes him groan every time he bottoms out.

He lifts your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half. Fucking deeper. Harder.

“Gonna come all over this cock,” he mutters, voice hot against your neck. “Wanna show you what you do to me. Look at me, baby. Eyes on me.”

“I— I’m close— Joel— I—”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know.”

His hand flies to your clit, thumb rubbing tight and fast, and your whole body clenches, legs trembling as your orgasm hits like a wave.

You cry out, loud and wrecked, and Joel’s hips stutter.

“Fuuuuck—that’s it,” he groans. “Take it. Take all of it.”

He comes inside you with a long, broken sound, cock twitching deep, filling you until it spills out slow and warm between your thighs.

And when he finally collapses over you, your legs still draped over his shoulders, you both lay there for a long, breathless moment.

The red light blinks once.

Still recording.

Joel’s voice is a rasp against your skin.

“You really gonna keep that forever?”

You smile, dazed. “Every second of it.”

It’s late.

The house creaks now and then with the wind, but nothing stirs. Not even the fire—burnt down to its glowing bones.

And Joel? Joel’s sitting still in that damn chair like something’s wound tight in his chest and won’t let go. You’ve been gone since morning—long patrol east, won’t be back until tomorrow—and the silence left behind has teeth.

He’s already two buttons down, belt unbuckled, pants shoved low on his hips.

In front of him, the old camcorder sits steady on the wooden table. The one you found on patrol, grinning and breathless when you handed it to him. Said it was still functional—still had some battery left, even. He’d grunted at the time, tossed it on the dresser like it didn’t mean anything.

It means something now.

The little screen flips open with a soft click, a flicker of blue light humming to life, and then—

There you are.

The video’s grainy, but Joel doesn’t care. He can see you just fine. Better than fine. You’re spread out on his bed, legs open, body moving beneath him, a haze of sweat glowing on your skin. His body, rough and broad, takes up half the frame. The camera had been set on the nightstand, just a little off-center, so it catches everything.

You had begged him for this.

On your knees, mouth swollen, voice wrecked: “Just once. I wanna see it. I wanna keep it with me forever.”

He hadn’t said yes right away. He never did. But the way you’d looked at him—wanting, soft and wicked at once—he’d given in. You always got what you wanted from him when you looked like that.

And now he gets this.

Joel strokes himself once, slow, thick fingers dragging from base to tip. His cock twitches, already wet at the head, leaking for you like a goddamn teenager. It’s not even shameful—he’s too far gone for shame.

On the screen, your back arches. His hand wraps around your throat. Your moan crackles through the built-in speaker, quiet and sweet and soaked in pleasure.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he rasps, mouth parting.

He strokes again, slow, tight around the base. Watches as his on-screen self pushes into you—deep, hips flexing as he buries himself to the hilt. You take him like you were made for it. The wet drag of his cock inside you, the sound of your cunt clenching down on him, all of it plays through the camcorder’s tiny speaker like a prayer.

Joel swallows hard. His hand leaves his cock, resting against his thigh. He’s not ready to come. Not yet.

He watches you pant, watches your fingers grip the sheets. Onscreen, he grabs your leg and pushes it up—opens you even wider. The camera shakes slightly as the bed rocks beneath you. The sound of your moan—high, breathless, needy—makes Joel groan in real time.

He presses a hand to his belly. His cock twitches against it, hot and heavy and needy.

Then he hears it—his voice, low and rough: “That’s it, baby. Take all of it.”

His own voice ruins him.

He fists his cock again and strokes, just once. Once. The sensation is almost too much already.

He breathes through his nose, sharp and shallow. The tape keeps going. He watches himself roll his hips into you slowly, watches your eyes flutter shut, your thighs shaking. Then, you say it—his favorite part—whimpering, desperate: “Joel, I can feel you in my stomach—oh my god—”

“Shit,” he mutters aloud, hand tightening. His hips jerk up into his fist involuntarily, needing more pressure, more friction, but he slows himself. He won’t come. Not yet.

He shifts, wide legs bracing him in the chair, the tension winding him up like a coil. The camcorder’s screen catches the moment he presses your legs up and leans in, burying his face in your neck as he pounds into you. Your body bounces from the force of it, your tits moving with every thrust, mouth open in a silent scream.

He hears himself on the recording again, low and cocky now: “Fuckin’ made for me, huh? Look how good you take it.”

Joel groans, stroking himself harder now. His hand glides slick with spit and precum. He’s dripping everywhere—his belly, his fist, the arm of the chair. He wants to finish, but he needs to draw it out.

The tape plays on. He watches you start to come, sees the exact second it hits you—your mouth drops open, legs shaking around his waist, that tight clench that he knows so well rippling through your body. You’re crying out for him. His name—“Joel, Joel, Joel—” Like a goddamn melody.

And he’s right there on-screen, watching himself fuck you through it, muttering filth in your ear. He feels that phantom tightness, the way your cunt always pulses when you come, and he has to stop again, squeezing the base of his cock to hold it off.

“God damn,” he grits out. “You feel so good. I fuckin’ ruin you every time, huh?”

He doesn’t even realize he’s talking aloud. The camcorder repeats the moment of his own orgasm—hips stuttering, body locking up, face buried in your shoulder as he spills inside you. It’s raw. It’s real. No performance. Just pleasure.

Joel can see the aftermath, too—his cum dripping down your thigh, your body boneless and twitching beneath him, both of you panting like you’ve just survived a bloater in the woods. The way you pull him close, even when it’s over. The way he kisses your hair. The way he worships you even when he doesn’t say it out loud.

He strokes again, slower now. More reverent.

The screen goes dark for a second as the footage loops.

Then it starts over.

You again. Lying back. Welcoming him in. Your voice: “Please, Joel—want you so bad—”

Joel clenches his jaw.

He edges himself through the whole damn tape again, sweat slicking his chest and temples, cum threatening to boil over. But he holds it. Every time. Over and over.

By the time he finally lets himself finish, he’s groaning so loud he has to shove his fist in his mouth to muffle it. His thighs shake. His hips jerk up off the seat. His release is hot and heavy, spilling over his knuckles in thick ropes, coating his hand, his belly, his shirt.

“Fuck,” he chokes, spent and trembling.

The camcorder plays on. Your voice is soft now. Laughing. Telling him you love how wrecked he looks after.

Joel leans forward, presses the pause button with a shaking finger. The screen freezes on your smiling face, sweat-slick and beautiful.

He sits back.

Breathless. Heart pounding. Cock twitching even after he’s come.

He doesn’t rewind it. Doesn’t delete it.

He just closes the screen with a soft click, tucks it away, and wipes his hand on the hem of his shirt.

He’ll watch it again tomorrow.

Maybe the day after that.

And if you’re gone too long, maybe he’ll hit record again the next time he fucks you—just to remember how good you feel.

tags: @zevrra @xodilfluvr

[daddypascal17]

they didnt give me a penis because i would be so good at having boners i would literally win every boner compatition and thats why they were tooooo scared

[daddypascal17]

PEDRO PASCAL

attends the London premiere of Thunderbolts

[daddypascal17]

Just a Dream-a tlou2 fix-it fic

Summary: you have a nightmare that Joel is killed. Joel wakes you up from your dream and comforts you. Loving sex, reassurance, and cuddles console you.

CW: MDNI 18+ only. Sex. Graphic depiction of Joel’s murder, that is true to the game. I keep it very brief. I put asterisks in the story in case you want to skip the dream and get right to the comfort. Above all else, TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. Don’t read this if it will make it worse for you. *hugs* We’ll make it through this together. You’re not alone.

Word Count: 1300

“What the FUCK?!… Let me GO!” You screamed, as a man held you down and a woman blew off Joel’s leg with a rifle. You struggled against his hold but it was no use.

The woman with the gun ignored you; giving all her attention to Joel who was now bleeding out rapidly from his leg. He had no chance to stem the flow, no chance to gather his bearings to defend himself before this bitch grabbed a golf club and began beating your angel with it. There was nothing you could do. The sound was sickening. Bile rose in your throat. This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening. He had hjust SAVED her and she repays him with this?

Panic and anger exploded out of your throat in sounds you didn’t know humans could make. Animal. Guttural. You begged, pleaded, threatened the woman, but your words fell on deaf ears as she beat him to a pulp right before your eyes—

********

“Baby? Baby?” Joel’s worried voice urged, as he shook you awake.

Your eyes flashed open and you turned in gasping surprise to see Joel. Right here in bed with you. Perfectly whole and alive.

You launched into his arms; nearly tackling him right off the bed in your relief; the tears instantly pouring down your face.

“Hey, sweetheart. S’okay. Was just a bad dream.” He pet the back of your head and pulled you into his lap; resting his back on the headboard. His other hand rubbed big soothing circles up and down your back.

Your body shook with grief in his arms. Your nose clogged with snot; your lungs swallowing air in gulps; between heavy sobs.

“What happened, baby?” Joel whispered in your ear. His sweet, deep southern voice soothed you. Reassured you that it was just a dream. Just a dream. JUST a dream. But those images in your head— you couldn’t shake.

“You…. You…” you tried to tell him, but the pain spiked, and made words impossible.

“It’s okay baby. Wasn’t real. Just tell me.” He tucked you lower into his lap and cradled you in his arms.

“You- you got shot. In the leg. And this bitch—” you sat up and looked him in the eyes, hand gesturing forcefully with your anger and sadness. “She beat you to death with a- a- golf club!” You wailed as the tears fell fresh.

Joel thought it sounded a little silly to be murdered by a golf club, but he stuffed down his feelings so he could take care of you. It clearly had affected you deeply and he wasn’t going to make light of it.

“And I was held down- I couldn’t do anythingggggg,” you wept.

Joel wiped the tears from your eyes as they trailed down your cheeks in streams.

“Sounds like a scary dream, mm?” Joel caressed your cheek. He was so touched by how distraught you were over a little nightmare. “M’sorry you had it. But grateful that it wasn’t real.”

Joel cupped your face in his hands and looked deeply into your red, tear-filled eyes. He kissed your nose. Your forehead. And each cheek.

“It was just so… so real,” you cried. “I’ve never had a dream that clear before.”

“C’mere,” Joel offered; scooting you both down flat onto the bed. He helped you straddle him, and brought your head down to his chest. He gently turned your head to rest your ear over his heart.

“Hear that?”

His heart thumped loudly in your ear. Steady. Soothing.

“I’m still here baby. I always will be. I’m never, ever leaving you. You hear me?”

Your hands gripped his shirt as you voicelessly nodded, nearly tearing the fabric right open with your fierce nails like talons holding him as tightly to you as you could. His morning wood was slowly hardening beneath your spread legs as you straddled him. His belly was warm on your chest.

“I need you,” you begged. “I need you Joel.”

He held you tighter against his body. “You have me, angel.”

“No,” you pushed. And ground your pussy on his cock through both your underwear.

Joel’s heart warmed at your need for him.

“It’s already yours.”

Joel’s sweet words swam in your ears as held you against him and rolled you both over until he was settled on top of you; his hips pressing your thighs open.

“Thank you… thank you…” you croaked out in relief at his instant willingness to fill you: to enfold you; need choking you and devouring you all at once.

Joel tipped your chin up to look at him. “I want your hands on me.” He guided your hands to his chest. “And I want your eyes right here—” he pointed to his face. “So you can see that I’m sill here, okay?” He slipped out of his boxers. “Come back to me sweetheart. Stay with me.” He took off your panties. “No more dreams. They’re all gone.”

You nodded, too emotional to speak. Bottom lip shaking as you took in a sharp breath.

Joel took you then. Filled you slowly. Kept his eyes sweetly locked on yours. He stayed in tune with your emotions. Held your hand as he fucked deep into you. Squeezing your hand tight when a fresh set of tears fell. Wiping away their trails with his thumb. His tenderness made your ache sweet; your pain turned to a gift of closeness with your soulmate.

He whispered the most tender things in your ear; reassuring you and laying bare his devotion to you.

When you begged for more of him, he laid down all his weight on you; tucking his arms between you and the bed, and gripping you with a ferocity that matched your agony. His hand cradled the back of your neck. Holding you secure.

He nose kissed you. Never stopping his thrusts. Pressed his cheek to yours. “I’m here. Right here baby.” His breath huffing sweetly into your ear. Each exhale telling you, I’m alive. I’m okay. It was all a dream.

when the pain turned to hunger, you grabbed his face and kissed him. Licking into his mouth ferociously. Sweeping. Tasting every part of him. Biting and pulling his lips with your teeth. Joel groaned at your intensity; matching your energy and giving it right back to you.

You held onto him tighter. Scratching your nails down his back hard. And Joel took it. He knew you needed this, and he was gonna give it to you.

“Harder,” you whined. Joel’s hips instantly responded with hard slaps; his balls smacking between your legs with each thrust. His cock ramming into your cervix- a pain you usually avoided; but today you wanted every last inch of pain. Lived for it. Breathed it like air, and you were drowning.

“Break me,” you whispered. So Joel did. Fucking you with complete abandon. Mandhandling you in position after position. Never letting up. Fucking you and fucking you through your first; second; third orgasm. You were covered in sweat; cunt bruised and clit swollen so full you were sure it was gonna pop like a balloon.

But he just kept going.

It wasn’t until the sixth orgasm, and the eighth position; where he had you in a mating press, that you finally felt sated, and told him he could come. A minute later, he came with a deep groan; his cum spilling into you; shooting hard at your cervix. And you were so wrecked, that you didn’t even care that he didn’t have a condom. You needed this. And he understood.

Lungs heaving as you both came down; Joel stayed inside you and kept thrusting. Smooth and slow. Tickling inside you as he softened slowly. Holding your legs up taught; fucking his spend back in as it dripped out of you. You reached between your bodies and gathered some; bringing it to your lips and smearing it like gloss, before licking it off and pulling his face to you for a raw, fucked-out kiss. His wet, beautiful cock eventually slipped out. He gathered you in his arms once more, and cuddled you under the covers. He slipped a hand between your legs, and lovingly played with your folds; earning twitches and jolts from you as he overstimulated you gently.

“Thanks for loving me so much, Angel.”

You fell back asleep, at peace; in each other’s arms.

[daddypascal17]

[daddypascal17]

[daddypascal17]

it’s such a shame hbo cancelled tlou2 and no episodes were ever dropped 😀 oh well i guess we’ll never know…

[daddypascal17]

I’m gonna just keep rewatching this part for the sake of my mental health.

[daddypascal17]

can I say seeing you reblog dad!joel made me feel a lot better about myself………… ily

HAHA ily more 😭💓

(the real hero here is @strang3lov3 for writing such a delectable, dirty work of art 🫡)

[daddypascal17]

LOVE ؛ ଓ

cw: belly riding. yes it's a real thing and if you think this is crazy, it came from Twitter so that explains things. eerily vanilla for once. reader doesn't have a specific age but if you want to imagine an age gap, go ahead 👍, I forgot to mention it but Joel is wearing low waist jeans and he's CHUBBY. and passing descriptions of choking but barely

notes: insanely proud of myself for making this not freaky to the max. i didn't call Joel daddy once (that's for next time 😈)

"Are you sure about this?"

Joel likes control. He likes stability and he likes certainty. But for you, he's willing to make acceptations.

"Relax, it's not that serious," you reassure him, looming over him. Damn you, you have him good tonight. Shirtless and sprawled into the bed, shutting all the curtains tightly like the neighbors haven't heard you scream his name before. But that's what makes him curious because your own mischievous expression means you had an idea.

And you make him curious because you nettles your bare self right on his lower abdomen, your warm cunt making contact with his rather thick happy trail. "Woah..." Right. Excellent commentary on his part.

You just let out a breathless laugh as your hands wander over his torso, skimming over the scars and hair that adorn him. You have this sort of revered look in your eyes that makes him weak around the edges, his hands coming to settle on your waist.

"You look...really pretty, Joel. Like, so nice," you whisper, your fingers making their way to his neck. They leave a trail of warmth in their wake and once your thumbs reach his pulse points, your hands wrap around his neck.

Any other time, this would be the clearest threat in the world. But you're his girl, his little miss. You could slap him right now and while it would hurt, he wouldn't have a single complaint.

"I like your gray hair a lot," you continue, slowly rocking your hips over his now chubby belly. You're coating him in your slick and for some odd reason, the sight makes him feel like a teen again with how all his blood rushes south. "Gods, I just wanna...wanna...shit-"

it's adorable to him how easily you lose yourself in pleasure. The way your words falter and a little moan leaves your lips instead. He's also at a loss for words and just holds you tight, dragging your drooling pussy over his abdomen over and over again. Watching how your clit brushes against the base of his graying bush and whimper at the contact, making his let out his own breathless sighs at the sight of your bliss.

Joel likes control but he likes you more. In fact, he loves you. Would do just about anything for you, from killing a mob of Clickers to those pesky spiders that make home in your boots. Would let you use him like a fucktoy for hours on end just like this, as long as he gets to see you come undone. "You're perfect, angel." That's all he can manage to choke out because somehow, you peel him to his very bones. Even if his cock is laying neglected in his jeans and you're bearing all your weight down on his throat, you have him enraptured.

He sucks in a breath as your movements turn frantic. The rhythmic roll of your hips now becomes desperate humping against his belly, your mouth falling open as little "ah, ah, ah" escape you. "Come on, baby," he rasps, eager to see you cum. "I got you, I got you." His hands go from your waist to the soft fat of your tits, popping one of your nipples in his mouth as you lean down. He suckles on you with nothing short of pure passion, getting spit all over your chest as his free hand pinches and tweaks your other nipple.

It's not long until you finally cum, thighs trembling as your face screws up in ecstasy. He can feel your cunny pulse against his chub and he could die happy in the moment if that was the world's will.

He finally lets up on his onslaught on your tits until your sniffling and weakly tugging his head away, just to flop yourself down on top of him. "That-" you scramble for air, your forehead resting against his. "That was good."

"...Thanks for the review."

You both laugh and you lazily press your lips to his temple, brushing your nose against his. Like your rabbits or something, nuzzling against each other. It's cute. You're cute. You're perfect. From your breathless words to the way your slick and cum seep into his bush.

[daddypascal17]

joel just wants you to go to sleep.

Joel hadn’t planned on taking you with him when he fled the last city. Hell, he barely had a plan for himself, let alone anyone else. He’d meant to slip out quietly, same as always—no ties, no mess. But when it came down to it, and you were standing along the side of the road, looking half-lost and way too stubborn for your own good, he couldn’t just leave you there. As much as he told himself it wasn’t his problem, that you’d slow him down or get yourself killed, something about walking away didn’t sit right. So now here you were—stuck with him, and he was just as thrilled about it as you’d expect.

Night fell fast, and with it came the kind of quiet that made Joel uneasy. He found a run-down motel off the main road—vacant, dusty, and barely holding itself together, but it was shelter. The room only had one bed, a king-sized relic with sunken springs and stale sheets, but it was better than the floor. Joel didn’t say much, just dropped his pack by the door and lay down without complaint. You followed suit, careful to leave a respectful amount of space between you, not too close but not miles apart either. It wasn’t cozy; it was practical. Just two people trying to get through the night.

Everything was fine—silent, still, until the heat started pooling low in your stomach, spreading like wildfire through your limbs. It hit fast and hard, unsettling and unfamiliar, and suddenly the bed felt too warm, the air too thick. You shifted once, trying to get comfortable. Then again. And again. No matter how you moved, the restlessness only grew, a tight, buzzing energy under your skin that wouldn’t settle. You tried to be quiet about it, tried not to draw attention, but your body had other plans

Joel let out a low, tired sigh, the kind that said he’d been trying to ignore it for as long as he could. Then he turned toward you, voice rough and laced with irritation. “What’re you doin’?” he muttered.

You froze for a second, caught in the middle of another restless shift. “I don’t know,” you kept your voice low. “Can’t get comfortable I guess.” You stared up at the ceiling, hoping that was enough of an answer, hoping he wouldn’t press further—even though you could feel his eyes still on you in the dark.

“You guess?” he echoed, the words thick with skepticism. You didn’t say anything in response, the restlessness still bubbling inside you, but the words just didn’t feel right.

Joel let out another frustrated sigh, rubbing his face with one hand. “Just…go to sleep,” he muttered, clearly done with the whole thing. “You’re not gonna get any rest if you keep at it.” He turned away from you, pulling the blanket up higher, as if to shut down the conversation for good.

Time dragged on, the silence of the room only broken by the occasional creak of the motel’s old walls. But that annoying buzzing feeling didn’t leave. It was still there, pulsing beneath your skin, spreading relentlessly. You tried to ignore it, to force yourself to sleep, but the more you fought it, the worse it got.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you decided to take care of it. Unbeknownst to Joel, you began to slowly, cautiously slip a hand down the front of your pants, your heart starting to race as your fingers brushed against the growing heat between your legs. You bit your lip to stifle a soft gasp, not wanting to disturb Joel again.

It was all Joel’s fault. He had no idea, of course, but everything about him made it impossible to stay calm. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, or the deep, gravelly tone of his voice when he spoke; it did things to you that you couldn’t shake.

Your breathing grew heavier and more labored as you began to work on your clit, your fingers working with increasing urgency between your legs. Then, out of nowhere, the lamp snapped on, flooding the room with harsh, orange light. Joel’s voice came out concerned, almost frantic.

“Hey, hey what’s the pro-”

But as he turned toward you, his gaze fell, and for a moment, his words caught in his throat. He froze, seeing your hand, hidden beneath your pants. A silence stretched between you two, thick and tense, as the realization hit him. Your heart skipped a beat, panic rising in your chest as you quickly yanked your hand out from under your underwear, eyes wide.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, face flushing hot with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean- it’s not-” The words tumbled out in a flurry, but they didn’t make much sense. All you could focus on was the sudden weight of the moment, the heat in your cheeks, and how you just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

Joel blinked, clearly caught off guard, but then he let out a quiet breath and raised his hands slightly, palms out. “I-it’s okay,” he said, his voice low, steady, trying to calm you down. “You don’t gotta apologize.” He didn’t move closer, didn’t look away either, just kept his tone even. “Wasn’t tryin’ to scare you or nothin’. I just thought…somethin’ was wrong.”

You just stared at him, like a deer caught in headlights. You didn’t say anything, just looked at him like you were waiting for him to scold you, or worse, get up and leave.

Joel let out a long, tired sigh, dragging a hand down his face. He glanced over at you again, something unreadable in his expression. “Alright,” he muttered, voice low. “How ‘bout this—you let me help, and then maybe you’ll finally get some sleep, okay?”

You hesitated for a moment, heart pounding, eyes still locked on his. Then, slowly, you gave a small nod, unsure but willing, trusting him more than you trusted whatever was happening inside you.

Joel watched you for a second longer, then gave a short nod of his own. “Lie back.” His tone was steady—firm, but not unkind as he shifted slightly, waiting for you to move. Joel's calloused fingers grasped the waistband of your pants, his touch sending a shiver up your spine as he slowly, methodically peeled the fabric down your legs. He took his time, his eyes never leaving your face, watching as your breathing grew more ragged with each inch of skin he revealed. As the pants slid past your knees and pooled around your ankles, Joel paused, his gaze fell upon the prominent wet spot darkening the fabric of your underwear. Joel's eyes widened slightly. “Jesus Christ,” his voice a low, almost reverent whisper.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling tight as he drank in the sight before him. The lamp light cast a warm glow across your exposed skin, highlighting the way your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath you took. A low, almost inaudible groan rumbled in Joel's chest as he reached out with a tentative hand, his thumb brushing against the damp fabric covering your throbbing cunt. He could feel the heat radiating through the thin material, could sense the way your body shuddered slightly at his touch. Slowly, deliberately, Joel watched with hooded eyes as he worked the damp spot, his thumb gradually soaking through the fabric.

“S’that where you need me?” Joel asked, his voice just barely above a whisper, yet it seemed to echo in the charged silence of the room.

Joel's eyes darkened as your breathy “Yes” floated through his ears. With that, he tugged your panties to the side. The cool air of the room kissed your slick, heated skin, making you gasp. Joel's eyes locked onto your exposed cunt, taking in the glistening, swollen lips and the way your entrance subtly fluttered eagerly. He couldn't resist the urge to run a single finger through the slick, gathering the wetness that clung to your folds.

Unable to hold back any longer, Joel pressed a single thick finger into your pussy. He groaned at the way your walls clenched around the intrusion, drawing him in deeper. Slowly, he began to pump his finger in and out, eventually adding another.

“Joel…” you whined as Joel's fingers worked themselves inside you, your hips instinctively bucking up to try and find something more.

“Shh, I know, I know,” Joel rumbled, his deep voice sending vibrations through your body. His big hand rested heavily on your hip, this thumb gently stroking your skin. Joel's fingers pumped faster, plunging deeper into your soaked, clenching cunt.

Suddenly, Joel's fingers curled just right, brushing against a spot that made you arch off the bed with a sharp cry. Your inner muscles clamped down around him like a vice, fluttering wildly.

“S’that the spot? Yeah?” Joel presses you with a slick grin plastered across his face. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, each exhale punctuated by a breathy moan that grew louder and more desperate with each passing second. “Yeah I know it is.”

With a final, keening cry of Joel's name, you came undone, your body convulsing as you cum all over his fingers.

As you floated down from the heights of your intense orgasm, Joel's hand gently brushed the sweat-dampened curls from your face. “There you go,” Joel murmured, his deep voice a low, soothing rumble. He brushed a stray tear from the corner of your eye with the pad of his thumb, the gesture surprisingly gentle.

“Now get some sleep.”

Your body felt lighter, your mind quiet for the first time that night. You didn’t say anything—didn’t need to. You just let your eyes slip closed as the calm finally took hold.

[daddypascal17]

ohh i am in desperate need of peepaw joel

[daddypascal17]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall.

[daddypascal17]

Just This Once: Part Three

Pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: You spend the night at Joel's house, but have a close call in the morning.

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), language, unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving), fluff, angst, they're catching feelings, jealousy/possessiveness, pussy pronouns, light spanking

WC: 5.8k

Part One | Part Two

Golden beams of sun bleed through the fluttering curtains, filling Joel's bedroom with a fresh morning breeze and the sounds of his sleepy neighborhood coming to life. It's a comforting scent — morning air — one you always savor when you get a chance. Considering it's a Saturday and Joel's face is buried eagerly between your thighs makes things infinitely better.

You simply can't think of a better way to wake up.

His hands wrap firmly around your legs, holding you still, right where he wants you. He looks lost in it — eyes slid shut, soft hums under his breath, practiced tongue gliding through your folds, scooping up your arousal with each pass. Seeing him take you apart with his mouth in the broad light of day has your legs trembling and your heart thundering in your chest. Like you're seeing something you shouldn't, yet you can't look away.

That is, until his lips messily suction around your clit. Your pussy clamps down around nothing and you throw your head backwards into his pillow with a strangled moan.

"Fu-uck, Joel!"

He sucks your clit harder and you see stars. Suddenly you're keenly aware that your skin is damp with sweat when his oscillating fan rotates in your direction, bathing you in that crisp morning air. You shiver and grab at his hair. Your hips begin to roll and Joel lets out a deep, satisfied groan.

"Yeah, that's it baby," he says, voice muffled. "Fuck my face, go on. Ain't gonna stop til you give me one more."

Heat crawls up your chest and neck. Each noisy lick and kiss he leaves at your center sends you higher and higher. The muscles in your stomach twitch and your breath begins to stutter — it's not even ten in the morning but between last night and now, you have no idea how you'll have the energy to get out of bed.

Something tells you Joel planned it this way. Planned on keeping you wrapped up in his bed all day, listening to the neighborhood outside go on about their lives while the two of you waste the hours in each other's arms. Given how difficult it is to find time to be together, you tend to make the most of it.

"Can feel you shakin', sweetheart," he growls in-between messy kisses, lips sucking and tugging at your clit. "Give it t'me."

You grind your hips upwards, pushing yourself firmly against his face. You can feel it, you're almost there, but the open window next to his bed has you distracted.

"J-Joel, the window—"

"Let 'em hear."

Christ, this is reckless. It's stupid and dangerous. Your father is right across the street. He could be watering the garden or getting his mail. But you can't stop, and neither can Joel. Your need for each other has grown so strong that it's blocking out all logic and reason. So you squeeze your eyes shut, drag in a lungful of air, and let go.

A shattered moan rips from your throat and your legs clamp down hard around Joel's head. His fingers dig into your hips and you feel him groan, the sound making your face flush with heat.

"Good girl," he mumbles around his tongue scooping up your release. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat when he swallows it down, and only when your muscles finally relax and you feel boneless does he break away. His wet lips leave a slow trail along the inside of your thigh and a shudder shoots through your entire body.

"That's it. Just how I like you — all messy and fucked out." He smirks against your skin and plants a soft kiss on your knee when you breathe out a shaky version of his name.

He releases your legs and sits up. You peer up at him through a haze, just in time to see his eyes fall to the mess between your legs. His gaze darkens and he practically growls at the sight.

You're beginning to realize Joel has no shame about being vocal — it's so unlike anyone you've ever been with before. He wants you to know how much he loves this. It's becoming painfully addictive and you know you're getting in over your head with something that was meant to be a one-time thing, yet you stubbornly continue to push that thought out of your mind.

He pulls his white t-shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. Your breath catches in your throat at his bare chest in the morning light, but he doesn't notice because he's kicking off his boxers and already climbing on top of you.

His hips settle between your legs and he leans down, forearms holding his weight on either side of your head, and he grins.

"Still with me?"

You giggle and wrap your arms around his torso.

"Just barely."

Joel hums and brushes his lips tenderly over your own.

"Feel good?" he asks softly. He kisses you again and it's so gentle, you feel like you're melting into the mattress.

"Mhmm," you hum. Your palms slide up his bare back, over the muscles in his broad shoulders and down his thick arms.

He drags his lips lightly over your cheek, slowly, like he has all the time in the world. Even though he must be painfully hard, he's not rushing. He wants to savor it — savor you.

You sigh and tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck. He doesn't hesitate. His mouth is instantly there, tasting your skin and sucking a small mark right under your jaw. A quiet moan falls from your lips and you feel his cock jump against your thigh.

"Greedy little thing," he chuckles when you lift your hips, searching for him to relieve the empty ache between your legs. His mouth leaves your neck and he raises his head to look down at you.

The sunlight catches him just right — the gold highlights his dark hair, dusted with bits of grey. The silver peeking out on his cheeks shines and his deep brown eyes practically glitter.

He looks so stunning that it takes your breath away.

"What?"

He sounds amused. The corner of his mouth twitches as he scans your eyes for an answer, wondering why you're looking at him all dopey.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, tucking a stray curl behind his ear.

It catches him off guard. His expression freezes and he blinks before he can figure out how to react. Finally, he decides on deflection.

"Must've fucked all the sense outta you, huh?" he says, but you see the bashfulness in his eye. The way his cheeks turn rosy and his gaze drops shyly.

You shake your head and trace a finger down his jaw. It gets his attention and he locks eyes with you again.

"Nope," you say softly, "still got some sense up there. I know what I see."

In retrospect, it's probably too intimate. It's too real. Too close to something far from casual.

His throat bobs and you drop your hand, letting it rest gently next to you on the pillow. You're both quiet, searching each other's faces, lost in your own thoughts. It's just a minute, maybe two, but it stretches on forever. Eventually, Joel parts his lips like he's going to say something, then thinks better of it. His eyes shift, he gives you a smirk, and you know the moment has passed.

"Let's see if we can do somethin' 'bout the rest of that sense, hm?"

And then it's like it never happened. You giggle, his hand finds your hip, and he sinks inside of you with a heavy groan. You gasp at the fullness and tilt your head back. You've had sex a handful of times by now, yet the size of him still manages to steal your breath.

"Christ, honey — so fuckin' warm," he rasps when his hips come flush with yours. You're writhing underneath him, wiggling and panting for air as your body adjusts to the heavy weight of him inside you.

You whine his name and stretch to bite at his lower lip. You're still so sensitive from the two orgasms he already gave you but somehow still desperate for more. He makes a rough sound from the back of his throat and kisses you, but this time it's not as gentle. It's hungry and messy. His tongue pushes past your lips and dances with your own, licking feverishly into your mouth while cupping the back of your head to keep you still. You whimper and grab his shoulders when he begins to move, pulling his hips back just to slowly push forward again as deep as he can manage.

He drops his weight so his body is pressed against yours and it's fucking heaven — the full weight of him on top of you, inside of you, completely encompassing you in every conceivable way. Your legs wrap around his waist and hold him close, savoring every roll of his hips and every soft grunt that spills into your mouth.

"Never felt anythin' as good as you, y'know that?"

His confession rips through you and your chest immediately swells. Your pussy flutters around him and he groans against your lips. He pulls you even closer, wraps his arms around you and begins to move a little faster.

There's hardly any air between you. Your skin sticks to his, each of you coated in a thin sheen of sweat that the small fan on his dresser can't fix.

"So fuckin'—" Joel tears his mouth away from your swollen lips and buries his face against your throat, "—so fuckin' sweet 'n soft. Drives me crazy. Got me — got me thinkin' 'bout you all the time. Almost nailed my goddamn hand to a two by four yesterday."

You wanted to admit the same — that you found yourself daydreaming about him at work or thinking about him when you were cleaning up your apartment. Even at the grocery store, you found yourself wondering if he would like a particular cereal or snack before you bought it. But it's impossible to form a coherent sentence when he's fucking you like this, deep and steady, filling you so perfectly with each and every thrust. Your whole body is electric, entirely focused on the delicious stretch of his cock, but you manage to give him a broken moan in acknowledgment.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" he goads, teeth grazing the column of your throat. "Like hearin' how fucked up you got me?"

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he starts to fuck you harder. The tip of his cock is hitting the spot that makes the heat build at the base of your spine and your stomach muscles clench. Your fingers scramble to grip his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as your body jolts beneath him every time he slams back into you.

"Oh, my god—"

Your voice cracks, your vision swims. He's so fucking deep and he feels so good. The solid weight of him keeps you pressed into the mattress, unable to move, and it's everything. You don't want to move. You just want to take what he gives you.

"You feel how hard you make me? Feel what you do to me?" he growls, nipping at your collarbone. His voice sounds thick and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine. Yet, despite how you feel like you're drowning in him, you still manage to hear something. Something downstairs, a firm rap on the front door. A familiar voice.

Joel doesn't hear it. He's still murmuring filth into your skin. But fear seizes your entire body when the realization dawns on you and the faint sound of Joel's front door swinging open hits your ears.

"Oh, my god!" you whisper scream before clapping your hand over your mouth.

"Gonna come f'me? Go on, lemme—"

"My dad is downstairs!"

Joel instantly stops moving. You both stop breathing. Then—

"Miller? Ain't you up yet?"

Joel quickly pushes himself up and both your hands cover your face, as if it could make you disappear. Your heart is racing so fast, you're convinced it's about to burst out of your chest.

"Uh, y-yeah, just gettin' outta the shower. Be right down!" Joel yells. A moment later, he roughly pulls out of you and you stifle a yelp.

"Sorry," he whispers, stumbling out of bed in search of clothes. You yank the sheets all the way up to your nose and watch as he hurries around the room. He's sweaty, his hair is damp and his skin is flush. He looks wrecked but he's still yanking on a pair of jeans before rushing to his bathroom to wet his hair at the sink.

"Stay right here," he says quietly when he steps out of the bathroom in search of a clean shirt. His voice sounds firm, confident, but his eyes look wild. You swallow the lump in your throat, bury yourself deeper under the covers, and nod.

Joel tugs a shirt over his head and whips around to face you. "I'll get him outta here. Don't make a sound. I'll — I'll be right back."

You nod again but he must see the fear in your eyes because he sighs and leans forward to kiss your forehead.

"It's alright. I'll handle it."

Then he's gone, closing the bedroom door shut behind him.

---

"Mornin'," Joel says breathlessly when he spots your dad in his kitchen. He's at the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup. When he turns to raise the mug in greeting, Joel guiltily drops his gaze.

"Thought you'd be out mowin' by now," your dad says while Joel pulls down a mug for himself. He clears his throat and takes his time pouring his coffee.

"Woke up with a headache," Joel says smoothly, "thought the shower would help."

Your dad hums and wanders over to the kitchen table. When Joel hears him sit with a loud huff, he curses softly under his breath. This was no quick visit. He was getting comfortable.

Joel crosses the room to join him but his blood runs cold when he spots something by the back door.

Your shoes. They were abandoned right where you left them after sneaking in last night. At the time, he felt so stupid meeting you at the street behind his so you could park your car out of your father's view. It felt like he was in high school all over again, sneaking a girl into his room. But now he was eternally grateful you had gone to such lengths to hide your presence — but who would have thought to hide your shoes?

"Any, uh — any big plans for today?"

Your dad shrugged and sipped his coffee. "Just yardwork. Maybe hit the hardware store. Gotta replace a drill bit."

Joel shifted his weight so he blocked your father from spotting your shoes somewhere behind him.

"Weather's s'posed to be nice. Good weekend for outdoor work."

Your dad nods and sips slowly from his coffee again. Joel tries to casually lean against the counter while still blocking your shoes, but it looks awkward. Your dad frowns.

"Why don't you sit down?"

Joel takes a long sip from his mug to buy time, mind racing for an excuse. His eyes dart around the room searching for something — anything — to distract your dad for five fucking seconds. Then his eyes land on the front window and he spots it.

"Hey, did Marty get a new truck?"

Immediately your dad is on his feet and rushing to the window. Joel whirls around, grabs your shoes from the floor, and tosses them down his basement stairs.

"No shit, I think he did," your father says from the window. Joel wanders into the living room after him, heart racing in his chest but praying he appears calm.

"Must've set him back quite a bit. Look at that chrome edging," Joel says. Your dad tuts under his breath and shakes his head.

"The hell does he need all that fancy shit for? Havin' a shiny truck don't make a damn bit of difference when you're haulin' shit. Waste of money."

Joel murmurs in agreement and turns away. His eyes drift up the stairs, to his closed bedroom door, where you waited for him — naked in his bed. He swallows tightly and looks away.

"So, hardware store? Ace or Jeff's?"

He was hoping to remind your dad that he had errands to do, that he should maybe leave so Joel can go back to fucking his daughter senseless. Instead, your father says something that knocks the wind out of him.

"Jeff's. Hey, you hear his boy is back in town? The older one — uh, the hell's his name..."

Joel shrugs and waits. Your dad silently scratches his chin, brows furrowed as he tries to recall the name. Joel's eyes dart towards the stairs again.

"Luke! That's it." Your dad snaps his fingers and smiles. "Real nice kid. He's workin' at the store now, lookin' to take over the business when Jeff hangs it up. He's 'bout my daughter's age. Good lookin' fella. Was thinkin' of bringin' her with me."

Joel's throat goes dry. He blinks slowly, like he's still processing the information.

"Take her... with you?"

Your dad nods and strolls back into the kitchen.

"Yeah. Maybe they'll hit it off. He's a good kid, good head on his shoulders. She needs someone like that."

No she doesn't, she's got me.

Joel shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a deep breath. He hears your dad open the fridge and Joel rolls his eyes before begrudgingly following him into the room. On the way, his eyes dart up the stairs. Can you hear them? Maybe the fan and the open window drown out their voices.

"You, uh..."

Your dad grabs an apple from the crisper and shuts the fridge before turning to top off his coffee.

"You sure she's lookin' for somethin' like that?"

"What'dya mean?" He rubs the apple on his shirt and takes a loud bite.

Joel shrugs and crosses his arms defensively, coffee cooling and abandoned on the kitchen table.

"Just that I never heard her talk 'bout, y'know... meetin' someone." He scratches his jaw and looks outside. His grass is too long, your dad's right.

"Why would she have said somethin' 'bout that to you?"

Joel's gaze snaps up to meet your dad's.

"No, I mean, just — whenever she's 'round. Like when we were puttin' the bed together. You asked and, and she said she wasn't seein' anyone. Didn't sound like she was interested to me."

He sounds like such a fucking idiot. Joel swipes his sweaty palms over his jeans and looks around the room, avoiding your father's curious gaze.

"She's twenty-five. She ain't gonna talk to her old man 'bout that kind of shit."

Joel swallows and nods. "Yeah. Probably right."

Your dad is studying him, peering at him from across his little kitchen. His mug is on the counter, forgotten. His brows furrow and his mouth turns down a fraction.

Joel's pulse skyrockets.

He senses something.

"You don't look so good, Miller," he says slowly.

Joel drags in a deep breath.

"Yeah, must be comin' down with somethin'. What with the headache 'n all."

Your father's brow relaxes. He reaches forward to clap Joel good-naturedly on the shoulder.

"Well lemme get outta your hair, then. Rest up."

Relief floods Joel's veins when your dad turns to take a final swig of coffee. He's leaving. He doesn't suspect a thing this time, but Joel has to get it the fuck together.

When your dad goes to put his mug in the sink, he pauses. A moment later, a low devious chuckle fills the room.

"You son of a bitch."

Joel's heart leaps into his throat.

"Wh-what?"

Your father puts his mug in the sink and lifts out a wine glass with lipstick smeared on the rim.

"You're so full of shit. You ain't sick. You had a woman over last night, didn't you?"

Shit.

"Uh—"

But he immediately cut Joel off.

"It's 'bout damn time!" your dad roars, grabbing his shoulder again to give him a firm shake. He laughs and puts the glass back in the sink. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? Who's the lucky lady?"

Joel's stomach churns. He coughs awkwardly into his fist to give himself a moment to come up with a lie.

"Someone Tommy knows. You don't know her. Was a blind date."

"Looks like it went pretty fuckin' good," he teases with a huge grin. Joel forces a weak smile, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

"Yeah."

Your dad waits for Joel to elaborate. His hands are propped on his hips, big smile stretched across his face, and he waits. But Joel remains silent, unable to think of anything else to say.

He can't. He just can't do it. He can't tell your father about the night he shared with you, even if he was pretending it was someone else. And he's so paralyzed that he can't think of another lie. So instead, an uncomfortable silence stretches between the two men, where the only noise in the room comes from the ticking of the analog clock above Joel's sink.

Finally, your dad breaks. His hands fall to his sides, he laughs a little awkwardly, and points to the door.

"Alright then. Well, happy f'you," he says, stepping around Joel and heading for the front of the house. Joel turns and follows, guiltily murmurs his thanks, and holds the door open while your dad slips on his sneakers.

"I'll give my kid a call, see if she's free to come with me to Jeff's," he says, reminding Joel of his idea to set you up. Jealousy flares hot in his chest again at the thought. He rubs at it absentmindedly and nods.

"Yeah. Okay."

"Maybe we'll see you 'round later. Throw some burgers on the grill if you're up for it."

"Sounds good," Joel says, watching as your dad pulls his phone out of his back pocket. He gives Joel one more wave over his shoulder, then he's bringing his phone to his ear, walking in the direction of his house. From upstairs, Joel hears muffled movement amongst the bedding and your voice quietly answering the phone.

He quickly shuts the door and makes sure to fucking lock it this time, then hurries back up the stairs.

"Maybe tomorrow," you're saying when he opens the door. He stays quiet, listening to one half of your conversation. Your eyes meet his and you offer him a small smile. "I promised Chelsea I'd help paint her new place. She's been looking forward to it all week."

The lie falls effortlessly from your lips and Joel grins. You shift a bit, still naked in his big bed and holding his sheets to your chest. He feels a stirring below his waistband at the sight.

"Oh, yeah, uh... I think I remember him," you say hesitantly. Your face falls and you glance nervously in Joel's direction. "He was kind of a douchebag in high school. Really... immature."

Your eyes find his while you listen to your dad's response.

"I just don't think he's really my type," you reply, then deliberately drag your gaze slowly down Joel's frame. All the blood from his head rushes south when you pause and bite your lower lip. His fingers twitch at his side. Then you take a deep breath, lock eyes with him again, and say, "besides, I'm — I'm kind of interested in someone else. Ye-yeah, I don't know — uh-huh..."

You trail off and drop your gaze to the bed. You nervously chew on your nail while you listen to your dad on the other end, but Joel's already mentally miles away. His chest feels like it might burst and he's got the stupidest smile on his face. You picked him.

"Yeah, so, why don't I call you in the morning? I'll stop by, we can do something?"

You're fidgeting under the covers. He can tell you're nervous — you can't look at him now and your chest is rising and falling faster than usual. God, you're so fucking adorable.

"Okay, Dad. Well, be careful doing yard work. Go easy on your back. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

You hang up your phone, toss it somewhere on the other side of the bed, and bite back a grin when you finally muster up the courage to look at him.

"He wants to take me to the hardware store tomorrow," you say, humor lacing your voice. "Says he'll just stay home today and work outside."

"Sounds like you're stuck here with me til the sun sets then." Joel grins and pops the button on his jeans. Your eyes immediately clock the movement and your lips part excitedly.

"Sounds like it," you answer breathlessly.

Joel lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor. Your breath catches in your throat.

"Anythin' else?"

You lick your lips and watch as his jeans slip down his legs.

"He wants— he thinks some boy I used to know would be a, uh... a good match for me, or something."

"Yeah? And what d'you think?"

Joel drops his boxers next and your mouth goes dry as you watch him fist himself. It's just slow, measured strokes while he waits for you to answer, but it still has your mouth watering. You swallow and sit up a little straighter in bed.

"I th-think it's — stupid."

Joel's mouth curls into a devilish smirk. "Hands and knees f'me, baby."

A shiver shoots down your spine. You exhale shakily, drop the sheet from your chest, and do as you're told. You roll onto your hands and knees with your back to Joel and wait with bated breath.

The mattress dips behind you and suddenly his voice is closer.

"Why's it stupid?"

His hand slides up your thigh, slowly. His palm gently caresses your ass while he patiently waits for your response.

"'C-cause," you stammer, "I'm no-not interested in him."

"No?" he asks, voice light, "Why not?"

He leans forward. The tip of his cock nudges the inside of your leg and you whine. You arch your back and rock your hips, but his hand holds you steady.

"Asked you a question, sweetheart."

His voice is so thick and deep, it has your pulse galloping in your throat. This is exactly what you love the most about being with him — he can be so soft but also knows how to take control. It's a duality that can only come from experience and age.

"Because... because I only want — you."

His hand pauses. It's quiet for a moment. You can't see his face, can't gauge his reaction, and it has your heart skipping a beat. Maybe you said too much.

Then he exhales behind you, shifts forward, and glides his hand around. His palm skirts up your side and cups your breast. He gives it a gentle squeeze before rolling your nipple between two fingers and murmuring, "That's my fuckin' girl."

Your eyes flutter closed at the praise and you gasp when he drags the head of his cock through your folds. He inhales sharply, releases your breast, and grabs your hip.

"So fuckin' wet," he murmurs in awe. You jump when the fat tip of his cock nudges at your opening. The air around you thins, your head swims, and you hold your breath.

"You ever get this wet for anyone else?"

His voice sounds different. Harder. Your arms begin to tremble and you shake your head.

"No," you whisper.

He grunts softly, a pleased sound, and begins to push inside. You gasp and your head drops between your shoulders at the stretch, reveling in the now familiar and addictive sting of being worked open on his cock.

"Fuck," he groans, feeding you a few more inches. You whimper and arch your back. "F-fuck, darlin' — so goddamn tight. How's this sweet pussy still so tight when I was just inside her twenty minutes ago?"

You can't answer. You can't formulate a single thought. The only thing you can focus on is the way he splits you open and fills you up so perfectly, every single time. But that's okay, because he's not really looking for an answer.

Your hand shoots backwards to grab his wrist when he bottoms out. Your upper half collapses onto the bed. You're gasping, shuddering, rolling your head on the mattress and making sounds that cause Joel to grind his molars to dust in order to stop himself from coming too soon.

"J-Joel," you moan. He's so fucking deep from this angle, it's making you see stars.

"'S'right," he growls, sweat already dotting his forehead again, "say my name. My name. Not some—" Joel drags his hips back until he's halfway out of you, then slams back in. You yelp in surprise and your grip on his wrist tightens. "—Not some fuckin' kid who wouldn't— wouldn't know the first thing to do wi-with you."

Your skin feels like it's on fire. The rush you get from the possessive tone in his voice coupled with the deliberate, deep thrusts he's giving you is unmatched.

Every time he sheathes himself inside you, he reaches a spot you didn't know existed. It's an indescribable feeling, the way he is able to read you and tear you apart so quickly. Your cunt flutters and sucks him in with each devastating stroke and he groans your name, kisses your spine, squeezes your hips.

You're both on your knees but he's the one worshiping at your altar.

Joel's knee nudges your legs further apart. You make a pathetic noise and sink deeper into the mattress. He folds his body over yours, glistening chest pressing against your back, and continues to snap his hips ruthlessly against your ass. He kisses up your spine, his hand drags up the side of your thigh until it comes to rest on your ass. Your jaw drops and you cry out when his palm suddenly cracks loudly across your skin, then he chuckles darkly against your shoulder.

"She's squeezin' me," he teases, pace still relentless, skin slapping loudly against skin. "She liked that. You liked that."

You moan and your eyes roll. Your hands grab uselessly at the sheets, clawing at them, desperate for something to hold onto as you succumb to his punishing pace.

He does it again and you moan his name, your voice sounding foreign to your own ears. His cock swells at the sound so he spanks you one more time, just to hear it again.

"Joel," you gasp wetly, "Joel, I'm—I'm—"

His teeth sink into your shoulder. Each thrust is paired with a deep grunt that you can feel reverberating through his chest and into your back. His arms are now braced next to your head and when you crack your eyes open, you see his hands are curled into tight fists.

"Go on," he pants. His face is pressed against your back. He leaves messy open-mouthed kisses against your sweat-soaked skin. His entire body is covering you. The heat is almost too much to bear but it feels so good because it's him. "Go on, let go. Give it t'me. Lemme — lemme feel it."

And you can't hold back any longer. You do as he says and you let go with a scream. Your vision whites out and your muscles seize up underneath him, clenching around his cock like a vice.

"Oh-h, f-fuck," he moans, hips stuttering. Your body sags and you sigh with relief, but you still manage to keep your hips up in the air. Joel is panting behind you, breath skittering across your skin, moans of your name mixed with curses float through the air until his body stills. You feel his warm release flooding your cunt and you sigh again. He grunts softly, pushes into you one last time, making sure to give you every last drop, then his body collapses on top of you, pinning you to the mattress.

It's quiet then. He lays on top of you, each of you catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. His hands find yours and your fingers intertwine wordlessly. His lips leave feather light kisses across your back and a shudder rolls through your body when the fan blows cool air in your direction once again.

"You— you okay?" he breathes, voice a little raspier than before. You nod, eyes closed.

"Yeah," you sigh. His fingers tighten around yours. Then a minute later, he slowly lifts himself off you. Your eyes open and you gasp in a full breath of air now that his weight isn't crushing your lungs, then wince when he gently slides his cock from between your legs.

Before you have a chance to move, Joel rolls onto his side and pulls you with him. He tugs you into his chest, circles his arms protectively around your waist, and sighs.

Across the street, you hear your dad's radio. He's playing classic rock in his garage. The telltale squeak of the hood of his truck tells you he plans on tinkering with the engine in the driveway for the next few hours.

"What're we gonna do all day?" you murmur sleepily.

"I'm gonna make you breakfast," Joel says with a kiss to your shoulder, "and you're gonna stay right here. If I got any say, you ain't puttin' on one single piece of clothing til nighttime."

You giggle and tilt your hips back to grind against him. Joel groans and his lips glide up to your neck.

"Gotta feed you first, baby," he warns. You pout, even though you know you don't have the energy to go again anyway. "You like eggs? Pancakes?"

"I like anything you give me," you say, making him laugh softly.

"Easy to please."

You hum, he gives you one more kiss, then he pushes himself up from the mattress. You roll onto your back and watch as he pulls on his clothes from before. When he turns around and sees your bare chest on display, his breath catches in his throat.

"Feel free to — wash up. If you like," he says, hitching a thumb over his shoulder towards the bathroom. You nod, then stretch and yawn. Joel watches for a moment like he's conflicted, then drags a hand through his hair, murmurs something under his breath, and leaves. You smile to yourself when you hear pots and pans clanging downstairs.

Today feels good. Today you don't care about the consequences. Today — you're just going to enjoy the time you have together.

[daddypascal17]

oh hell yeahhhh😝

okay I don’t know if you take requests or not.. but imagine this okay:

reader lowkey losing an argument with Joel so she flashes her tits (his weakness) at him and she immediately wins bc he folds and fks her on the kitchen counter

(okay sorry im feral rn)

flashing joel joel miller x f!reader nsfw

“you said you were gonna do the dishes,” joel calls out from the kitchen, his voice sharp and already irritated. “you always do this.”

you appear in the doorway, arms folded. “you said you were gonna do them. last night. i remember.”

joel turns to face you, dish towel in hand, brow furrowed like he's been holding this in. “no. i said someone had to do them. and you said, ‘i’ll do it later.’ you said it in that little voice. the one you use when you know damn well you’re not gonna do a damn thing.”

“you’re making stuff up,” you say, though there’s the smallest twitch at the corner of your mouth.

“i’m done making excuses for you,” he says, tossing the towel onto the counter. “not this time. i’m not doing them. you need to take some responsibility.”

you look at him—his arms crossed, his jaw set, that stupidly sexy ‘i’m mad and i mean it’ look—and you tilt your head just slightly. your eyes soften, grow wide, warm, playful.

joel narrows his gaze immediately. “no. don’t give me that look.”

“what look?” you ask sweetly, taking a slow step forward.

“that look like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing,” he says, not budging. “it’s not working. not this time.”

you lift the hem of your shirt, just a little. barely enough to tease, to test. it usually works.

“i’m serious,” joel says, arms still crossed tighter now. “i’m not falling for it.”

you raise it a little higher, smile curling at your lips. “i’m not wearing a bra.”

his jaw flexes. “i don’t care.”

“don’t you?” you murmur, now just a breath away from him, your shirt hanging loose above your hips. “because it kinda looks like you do.”

you hold his gaze. then, with one smooth motion, you pull your shirt over your head and drop it to the floor.

joel stares at it.

then stares at you.

and says nothing.

just stands there, jaw clenched, eyes locked on yours like he’s trying to remember why he was mad in the first place.

you take a step closer, slow, deliberate. your chest brushes lightly against his crossed arms, warm skin against fabric.

“still don’t care?” you ask, soft and dangerous, like you know he’s seconds away from folding.

joel exhales through his nose. “you think this is cute?”

you nod, eyes wide, pretending innocence. “a little.”

“you think you can flash your way outta consequences?”

“it’s worked before.”

he shakes his head, eyes drifting—just for a second—down your bare skin, then snapping right back up like it didn’t happen. but it did. you saw it. and he knows you saw it.

you lean up on your toes, lips almost at his ear. “you’re staring.”

“no, i’m not,” he mutters.

“yes, you are.”

joel’s hands twitch at his sides, like he wants to touch but refuses to move. “put your shirt back on.”

you hum, dragging your fingers slowly down his forearm. “make me.”

his jaw tightens again. “you’re not gonna win this time.”

“mm,” you breathe, lips brushing his neck now, barely there. “we’ll see.”

he closes his eyes. just for a second. like he’s praying. or surrendering.

or both.

“fine,” you say suddenly, stepping back from him, your tone all sweet surrender. “if it bothers you that much, i’ll do the damn dishes.”

joel blinks, caught off guard by your sudden shift. you grab the dish towel off the counter and head toward the sink like it’s no big deal, like you’re being the mature one now.

he watches. arms still crossed. lips pressed into a flat, suspicious line.

but you’re no stupid. you know exactly what you’re doing. you rinse a plate under the warm water, then slowly start scrubbing. your hips shift a little more than necessary, the curve of your back dipping just right.

joel’s still staring. of course he is.

you reach for the tall glass from earlier—the one you used to make that chocolate milkshake just a few hours ago, and when you tilt it, a thick streak of leftover chocolate dribbles out—straight to the top of your breast, slow and sticky, drpping over the nipple.

“shit,” you murmur, looking down at it like it’s some kind of surprise. but it’s not. you know exactly what you did.

you glance over your shoulder, lips tugging at the corner in the faintest smirk. joel’s eyes are locked on you, completely still.

“you just gonna stare, or you gonna help me clean up?” you ask, voice low, teasing.

his jaw moves, but no words come out. he’s losing. badly.

and you know it.

“you know what you’re doing,” he says finally, voice low and rough.

you smile without turning around. “i’m doing the dishes. just like you wanted.”

he lets out a heavy breath, like he’s trying to hold something in. “you’re dangerous.”

you hum, reaching up to grab another glass from the drying rack, letting your body stretch, letting your back arch just enough. “no, i’m helpful.”

“you’re playin’ with fire,” he mutters.

and that’s when you do it. you turn around slowly, hips leaning into the counter, hands still wet and dripping slightly. chocolate still sticky on your breasts.

joel doesn’t hesitate this time.

he’s on you in seconds—his hands gripping your waist, your back pressing into the counter. his mouth just barely brushes the corner of your lips before he pulls back like he’s still trying to fight it. still trying to hold on to whatever thread of self-control he thinks he has left.

“last chance to walk away,” he says, voice thick, eyes locked on your mouth.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you breathe.

and neither is he.

he doesn't move slowly this time. there's no warning, no hesitation—just the rough sound of his breath as he closes the distance and kisses you hard.

it’s not sweet. it’s not gentle. it’s everything he’s been holding back.

his hands slide up your sides, warm and strong, fingertips brushing the sticky path the chocolate left behind. he groans low against your mouth when he feels it under his touch.

“goddamn it,” he mutters, like he’s mad at himself, like kissing you is some kind of sin he’s giving into. “you drive me insane.”

you grin against his lips, breathless. “then stop fighting me.”

he lifts you without warning, sets you on the counter, stepping between your legs like he belongs there—he does. your bare skin against the cool kitchen tile sends a chill through you, but he’s all heat—his hands gripping your thighs, thumbs brushing slow circles into your skin.

“you think everything is a game,” he says against your neck, kissing along your collarbone, tasting the faint chocolate he finds there.

“maybe,” you whisper, fingers threading through his hair. “maybe i just like watching you lose.”

“i’m not losin’,” he growls, pulling back just enough to look at you. “i’m givin’ in.”

and it feels like falling—slow, dizzy, inevitable. like this was where you were always heading, since the first dish left in the sink.

he went down to your breasts, meanwhile his hands already worked unbuttoning your shorts.

his lips found the tip of your breast. he lost himself in it, he sucked, licked the chocolate. you were holding him close to your breast... you love when he plays with them, you love the feeling of his tongue sucking from your nipple as if he's trying to get something. you bite your lip and lean your head back, moaning softly.

joel's lips move to your other breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth again. you can see how swollen and drooled your breast is... but most importantly, it's clean from chocolate.

"i love the way you taste," he murmurs between kisses, looking up to you.

you chuckle when you spot a stain of chocolate on his jaw. "i can tell,"

his hands slide down to your thighs, squeezing and caressing them as he continues to pleasure you with his mouth. he sucks hard, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive flesh as he teases you with his mouth. he nibbled your nipple, hard enough to make you whine. hearing you was a reward for him.

“that’s for not doing the dishes,” he growled.

“oh, i can do it.” you said playfully, trying to hop off the counter.

he dragged your shorts off. “the hell you’re not. you’re not going anywhere.”

joel grabs your hips again, holding you in place on the counter as he moves between your legs, his body pressed against yours. he leans in, nibbling on your earlobe as he speaks.

"and right now, i want you to be a good girl and stay still for me."

joel reaches down, grabbing his cock and stroking it a few times before pressing it against your entrance.

"you're such a brat," he mutters, his voice filled with both irritation and desire. "never do any chores."

he pushes forward, slowly entering you, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

"you never let me,"

he thrusts into you hard. he wasn't being soft or slow. he was setting a rentless pace.

joel continues to thrust into you, his pace growing faster and more intense with each movement. he moves his mouth to your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there as he drives into you over and over again.

"you're damn tight," he groans. "and so damn stubborn."

he lifts one of your legs, wrapping it around his waist, giving him even more access to you. his hips snaps against yours.

"gentle," you say softly between breathy moans.

"you don't like it gentle."

he lifts your other leg, pinning them both against the counter, seizing the moment to pound into you. you twirl your fingers on his hair, tugging just enough, whimpering and repeating his name, over and over, asking for more.

"see? you're a damn brat,"

"no more doing the dishes?" you pouted, faking innocence.

"i'll do them,"

and just like that, you won. again.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[daddypascal17]

HELLOOOOOO????!?!???!?!?!!!!??