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starry-eyes-love · 10 days

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The Rite of Movement | part seven

“you flower, you feast”

A/N: okay, okay so this chapter took WAY longer than planned, but between my birthday traveling and work just being poop, I didn’t have any motivation. Well, the inspo hit, and it hit HARD 🤭 I’m so unbelievably happy with how this chapter turned out and I hope you all enjoy it! 💘

~word count: 5.0k~

Summary: what happens when Joel and Tommy Miller eat chicken wings in front of you, baby love? You start picturing yourself as that chicken wing, being split open, meat sucked clean from the bone—

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader x pornstar!tommy

Warnings: smut, consent, fluff, relationship security, established relationship, fingering, oral (f! And m! receiving) face riding, bush love! , f!masturbation, sexual tension, cock dumb, pussy drunk vibes, teasing, filth, praise kink, daddy kink go brrrrp, threesome (Joel and Tommy do NOT touch. Please don’t be weird 😭) pussy pronouns, sharing is caring, Joel’s dom side comes out to play, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader, Joel and Tommy are pornstars, readers nickname is baby love, reader has no physical desertions such as skin tone, height etc. NSFW, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Joel & baby love by @kenobiwanx

“Baby love, Tommy and I are gonna go run out and grab the food, okay? Probably gonna be 30 minutes tops.” Joel said from the kitchen where he was grabbing the keys to his truck.

“Sounds good!” You chirped from the living room, deep in an erotica novel that one of your followers had recommended to you. The main character was just about to get fucked into a new dimension by her boyfriend and his hot brother— “Artemis!” You giggled, scolding her softly when she jumped right onto the page you were reading and swatted playfully at the paper.

You heard Joel’s approaching footsteps alongside the couch when he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips and then one to the top of Artemis’s head as you looked up at him, “think we’re gonna stop and get a case of beer as well. I’ll text ya when we’re on the way back, ‘Kay?”

You reached your hand up, curling it around his jaw and pulled him in for another kiss.

“Christ. Y’all really need to get a room.” Tommy snickered from the entryway, broad arms crossed over his chest.

Joel grinned against your lips, kissing you one last time before he reluctantly pulled away. “Shut your trap, Tommy.” He said playfully and gave Artemis a quick pet behind her ears.

“Fuck off, you twathead.” Tommy quipped back.

Joel gave him the finger and tossed the keys in his direction, “jus’ for that, your ass is driving!”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He caught the keys, twirling the ring between his fingers, “be back in a jiffy, baby love!” Tommy singsonged.

You swore you heard Joel mutter under his breath, “hey, only I can call her baby love.”

You listened to the front door swing shut, and Joel and Tommy’s usual banter before Joel’s truck peeled down the driveway. You set the book down on the coffee table with the page you left off on dog eared and carefully picked up Artemis and placed her on the spot you were just sitting on with the blanket. Now that you had a bit of time to kill…what better way to spend it than getting yourself off.

Before Tommy had come over, you and Joel discussed the prospect of the three of you filming a threeway scene. Joel left everything up to you and how you wanted it to play out. You ultimately decided that you didn’t want to plan for it, and would rather have the moment be completely based on spontaneity. So, while you used one of your favorite vibrators, gifted by Joel of course, you picked one of your favorite MMF videos on the Miller-Co website to get off to. It was one of Joel and Tommy’s first videos that they filmed after leaving Brazzers. You immediately recognized the familiar couch in Joel’s garage while you settled back against the pillows of your shared bed, thighs spread, arousal and slick already pooling between your folds.

When 30 minutes came and went, Joel texted you saying that the food was taking longer than expected and that the restaurant was super busy. Usually you would respond almost immediately, but 10 minutes had gone by and you hadn’t responded to his message.

He couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his lips as he typed out, you there, baby love?

No response.

“I bet she’s playin’ with her pussy right now an’ that’s why she ain’t responding. Naughty girl.” Tommy tsked under his breath as he peeked over at Joel’s phone from the drivers seat.

“Mmm…that’s exactly what she’s doin’ right now. She was reading’ some erotica book right before we left. Didn’t get a look at the page, but m’sure it was juicy.” Joel responded, sinking further against the passenger seat.

“Fuck. We gonna play with her a bit when we get back?” Tommy tapped his knuckles along the steering wheel, glancing down at time on the dashboard.

“Oh, we will be. S’what my baby love wants. She’s thirstin’ for both of us, Tommy.”

“Goddamn. Is she really? This food better hurry the fuck up then. Gonna start gettin’ impatient jus’ thinkin’ about—hey!” He let out a surprised grunt when Joel had whacked him on the side of the head.

“Patience, you horndog.” Joel scolded him.

“Call her. See if she picks up. Wanna know if my theory was right.”

“What?”

“Y’heard me. Call ‘er up. See if she answers.” Tommy reiteratedeagerly.

“Fine, fine, but she ain’t gonna answer.” Joel knew you better than that and if you were on the brink of an orgasm, you sure as fuck weren’t going to answer your phone. He dialed your number anyway, and it rang three times before going to voicemail. “Told ya. She’s too busy playin’ with herself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tommy scoffed.

You were on the edge of having a mind numbing, toe curling orgasm when you heard the familiar roll of Joel’s truck tires in the driveway and as soon as your mindset switched, your orgasm was delayed and frustration began to settle deep into your bones as you cursed under your breath, clicking the button on the vibrator off and tossed it to the side of the bed with a huff.

“I was this fucking close.” You grumbled to yourself, taking a moment to catch your breath when you heard the front door open.

“Baby love, food’s here!” Joel’s voice traveled from downstairs and straight up to your pulsing core. “Where ya at, pretty girl?”

Did he know what you were just doing? He couldn’t have—right?

“Coming!” You responded back, your voice wavering when you thought about the possibility of him coming upstairs and catching you like this.

Joel and Tommy exchanged a knowing look as they set the bag of food down on the kitchen table. “Take your time, sweetheart! Ain’t no reason to rush!” Tommy said with a smirk tugging on his lips.

You threw on your flimsy tank top over your head and pulled your cotton shorts over your trembling thighs with your lower lip caught between your teeth. You checked your appearance in the mirror, looking a little disheveled with a noticeable sheen of sweat coating your neck and chest. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks in tandem, as you grabbed your phone from the bedside.

Joel was waiting for you at the foot of the stairs and once you were at arm's length, his strong biceps wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his warm embrace. He kissed you sweetly, one hand dropping down to grab a handful of your ass in his palm. You nearly moaned into his mouth, managing to hold it back. When he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes flickered southwards, zoning in on the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin and the edges of his lips curved upwards. “Sorry for the delay, baby love. The wait was longer than we anticipated.” He rasped softly.

Between his calloused palm groping your ass, and his lingering stare, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your pussy was chanting: Yes, Joel! Right here. Take us right here. Right now. Against the staircase! C’mon, big boy.

“Baby, why are you looking at me like…you wanna eat me right now?” You whispered softly to him, letting your hand curve around his bicep.

“Like I wanna eat you right now?” He mused, “Baby love, I always wanna eat you up.” He chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Lemme watch f’you guys are gonna fuck against the staircase.” Tommy snickered from the kitchen table where he had already plated out his food and cracked open a beer, taking a swig from the bottle, his eyebrows raising in a mischievous manner.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks from Tommy’s crude comment as images of Joel bending you over the railing and fucking you from behind while Tommy watched flooded your mind.

“Cat got your tongue, baby love?” Joel murmured, smirk still playing on his lips.

“No.” You shook your head, squeezing his bicep gently. “I’m just starving.”

You were a fool to think that your temptations would dissipate as you and Joel sat down at the kitchen table across from Tommy. If anything, they were heightened when you were forced to watch both brothers demolish their chicken wings, sucking the meat right off the bone effortlessly.

They’re doing this on purpose. They have to be, right?

The longer you watched the two brothers ravenously eating their chicken wings, the damper the fabric of your cotton shorts grew. The blooming wet patch was evident, and your mouth was parched when you watched Joel suck the meat from the chicken wing bone clean off again. He twisted and split the delicate wing bones right down the middle, hollowing his cheeks slightly as he sucked the meat clean from the bone, making an obscene slurping noise in the process. He paid no mind to the figurative daggers you were sending him when he used his thumb to wipe a stray dribble of sauce from the corner of his lips and sucked it right into his mouth. The way he devoured those wings immediately made you think of the way he would mold and press you open at his leisure, mouth and tongue sloppy on your cunt, eating you like you were quite literally his last meal on earth.

“Can you guys…stop eating like that?”

“Pardon?” Tommy looked directly across the table at you, plucking the meat clean from the bone, brow raised in amusement.

“Like…that.” You reiterated and subtly squeezed your thighs together beneath the table.

“Sorry, baby love. You’re gonna have to explain what you mean by that.” Joel chimed in alongside you, taking a swig of his beer.

Your nostrils flared and your knuckles clenched tightly around either side of your chair. They absolutely were toying with you on purpose, and you were just waiting for the chord to be pulled so tight, that it would inevitably snap from the pressure.

“You feelin’ alright over there, sweetheart? Can see the sweat drippin’ off ya from here.” Tommy commented with a sly grin. “Somethin’ wrong with the way Joel and I are eating our wings?”

Yeah, well, there’s more than just sweat dripping off of me,Tommy- is what you really wanted to say.

“Feeling just peachy, Tommy. Nothing wrong with the way you guys are eating your wings.” You lied through your teeth.

“Hmmm.” Joel hummed alongside you and his freehand creeped towards your thigh, fingers flexing and you could feel his phantom touch before he even made contact with your hot skin. “Sure you ain’t…feelin’ a little frustrated, baby love?”

Oh fuck. He knows. He knows

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ for emphasis, but neither Joel or Tommy were convinced at your attempted bluff.

“You sure about that, baby love? S’okay if you are.” He leaned in, hot breath fanning your face when you felt his fingers brush against the apex of your thighs, coaxing them open. “Were you touching yourself while we were gone, baby love? Hmm?”

Busted.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks in tandem, and your thighs clench from his words. You didn’t want this little game to end so soon, you were determined to build up the anticipation even further. “No, baby.” You shook your head, “I wasn’t touching myself while you and Tommy were gone.”

Tommy’s interest in the conversation was immediately piqued when you were quick to deny Joel’s accusations, and he reminded you of a predator stalking its prey in the tall grass from the way he was looking at you.

“No?” Joel pouts, tsking under his breath as he continues his ministrations. “How wet do you think she is right now, Tommy? On a scale from 1-10.” He briefly looks across the table before you feel his eyes searing into the side of your head once more.

“10, easy. She’s practically squirmin’ in her seat right now, and you haven’t even started to touch her yet.” Tommy rasped with a chuckle, leaning back against the seat of the chair. “Bet she’s so wet that there’s a damp spot right through the fabric.” He mused.

“How do you feel about his answer, baby love? Think you’re that wet right now? Think I should…have a look for myself? What do ya think I’m gonna find beneath these ‘lil cotton shorts of yours, naughty girl?”

Fuuck.

Your eyes lingered on Joel’s face, and then over to Tommy as you harshly took your lower lip between your teeth, spreading your thighs further so he had easier access to feel the heat of your core through the thin, strained fabric. “I—I think that’s accurate, baby.” You let out a huff of air through your nose, heat steadily rising up your cheeks. “You know exactly what you’re gonna find under my shorts, Joel. How about we just…skip the theatrics, and you take them off so Tommy can get a good view of my wet little pussy?”

He chuckled, leaning over the short distance between your chair and his, nudging his nose against your jaw, nipping at your skin, a growl edging up his throat, “Yeah? That’s what you want me to do, sweet girl? You wanna show my brother jus’ how fuckin’ wet you are right now? He’d love that, baby love…” he trailed off, thinking of what he was going to say next, “can’t do that m’fraid.” His lips curved downwards in a plush pout.

“Why the hell not?” You whined, feeling your frustrations begin to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

“Gotta clean my hands first, baby love.” He snickered, fully planning on grabbing the nearest napkin to wipe the wings sauce from his fingers. Instead, you took matters into your own hands, er—mouth, and grabbed his hand, swiftly yanking it towards your mouth. He watched with hooded eyes when you wasted no time to suck his thick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around each one, licking them clean, eyes locked in an intense stare with him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” Tommy let out a groan from where he was sitting, unable to tear his eyes away from your pretty lips working around Joel’s fingers. “I ain’t gonna fuckin’ survive this night.” He said out loud, fully intending to keep that thought to himself.

“Jus’ wait till you feel her mouth around your cock, brother. You’ll never be able to look at head the same way again after she—fuck.” He hissed between his teeth when he felt your teeth lightly drag across the underside of his fingers.

“Oh, I believe it, but m’gonna combust o’here if I don’t get a taste of her sweet fuckin’ pussy, I swear to god—”

“Yeah, and I’m going to kill both of you if someone doesn’t fucking start touching me in the next five seconds.” You mumbled around Joel’s fingers, slowly slipping them from your mouth and guided them between your thighs. “Please.” You added sweetly.

“You’re gonna sit there and tell me that you didn’t fuckin’ eat her out in your truck? Goddammit, Tommy. Who the hell raised ya, huh?” Joel tsked under his breath and with his fingers now freshly soaked in your saliva, he pressed them firmly against your covered clit. “Her pussy is the neediest lil’ thing, and you missed the fuck out.”

You pressed your hips directly against Joel’s fingers, desperate for more stimulation than he was already providing you, and even when his fingers began to slowly circle your clit in a figure eight motion, that still wasn’t enough.

“Well, I got the perfect opportunity to make it up to her, don’t I? Ain’t no time like the present!” Tommy chuckled, wiping his hands off on a napkin before he slowly sank to his knees under the table, crawling on all fours till he found himself right between your thighs, peering up at you through onyx black, thick curls that were momentarily obstructing his view. “Cus’ the way that I see it? There’s never not an ideal time to eat pussy.” He mused, shooting you a playful and suggestive wink while his big hands creeped up the expanse of your thighs and grasped the hem of your shorts.

Joel looked over at you expectantly, admiring your side profile and the way that your tongue darted out to lick your lips, pupils dilating, flickering down to Tommy’s smirking expression between your spread thighs.

“How’s that sound to you, baby love? Hmm? You want Tommy to eat your pretty little pussy out under the table? I think he wants it really, really, bad, baby.” He chuckled warmly against the shell of your ear, pausing the ministrations of his fingers just as a low whine escaped your throat at the loss of contact.

Instead of taking the route of verbally responding, you let your desire and frustration take the wheel front and center. You reached for the back of Tommy’s head, carding your fingers through his lustrous curls and yanked his face directly against your covered, pulsing cunt. Joel’s fingers moved in tandem, sliding up the curve of your body, his big veiny hand came to rest along the base of your throat, thick fingers splayed out around your neck like a necklace.

“Oh,” he cooed, “my baby wants it really, really, bad, huh?”

“Course I fucking do. The two of you have riled me up since the second you got back with the food.” You stated the obvious tension growing between the three of you.

Your eyes met his sultry gaze, narrowing into slits when he leaned in for a chaste kiss, lips brushing, fingers flexing against the thin, delicate skin of your throat. He licks into your mouth, stealing the very breath from your lungs just as Tommy greedily sucked on the damp patch of fabric, drawing the flat side of his tongue through it, groaning, hands pressing you open further, broad nose bumping against your covered clit.

“Yeah, she fuckin’ wants it. Been drippin’ this whole fuckin’ time.” Tommy mumbled between your thighs, his saliva and hot breath causing the wet patch through the fabric to bloom more. “Can I fuckin’ take these off of ya baby, please? Need to get a full look at her. Bet she’s so fuckin’ puffy n’sensitve right now.” He rasped, sucking inwards, nipping playfully at the fabric that obstructed him from seeing all of you.

Between Joel’s head spinning kisses, and his underlying possessive nature of what was his, you broke from the kiss momentarily. “Please fucking take them off, Tommy.” Words breathless, diving back into his eager awaiting mouth. You never got tired of the way that Joel Miller kissed you. It was like that of an art form, an erotic dance that would send even the most stoic faces feeling flustered just from the sight of the two of you.

His eyes peeled open briefly to steal a glance of your now bare pussy, to see your little hole pulse, drooling a trail of pearlescent slick along the wooden chair that sent both men’s cocks twitching, awakening like two feral street mutts that were just given a plated, rare steak on a silver platter; you being the steak.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” The Miller brothers murmured in unison as if they were in a trance from that pulsing spot between your thighs. You never felt more turned on in your life than in this moment under their adoration filled gazes.

Joel stole your attention once more kissing you with more ferocity when your freehand reached across the chair, palming his hardening cock through the confines of his loose shorts. His hips shifted against your palm, rolling in a languid movement in comparison to his lips on yours. He groaned freely into your mouth, wet hot breath gliding across your tastebuds, the girth of his cock growing heavier, and heavier.

Tommy spread you open further with his pointer and middle finger. He marveled at how wet you truly were, getting an up close look at just how puffy the soft lips of your pussy were getting. He wolf whistled, inhaling the scent of your arousal before he spat a thick glob of saliva right over your clit, rubbing it in with your growing slick. “Fuckin’ Christ. Wettest lil’ pussy i’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”

A strained moan escaped past your interlocked lips when Tommy began to lap between your folds, jaw slack, eyes shut in pure bliss at the tangy, yet sweet taste of you on his tongue. He groaned deeply against your mound, licking from the entrance of your weeping hole all the way up to your clit, swirling the tip of his tongue in a figure eight motion, nose buried against the soft patch of curls that Joel would often lightly pet and play with. Joel loved the fact that you made the personal choice to not shave your pubic hair. (He’d love you just the same if you did, of course)

Joel’s breaths came out as soft pants against your locked lips, his kisses became more desperate when the head of his cock drooled a bead of precum through the slit, staining a wet patch through the front of his shorts. He was fully hard beneath your touch, tenting against the fabric.

“Move your chair closer to me, baby.” You mumbled against his lips, teeth lightly nipping at his lower lip eliciting a low rasp from deep within his throat to emerge, sending a warm tingle straight down to your pulsing core.

And while Tommy was off in his own little pussy drunk world, switching from focusing the movements of his tongue against your clit, to dragging it southwards, curling it inside of your weeping little hole, lapping up your sweet nectar as if he was a bee on a freshly bloomed flower. Joel wordlessly scooted his chair closer to yours, lips breaking from the kiss momentarily and when he moved his head to kiss you once more, you leaned over the side of your chair completely, eagerly dropping your face down to his spread thighs. A layer of his natural musk seeped in through your nose as you dragged your nose against the outline of his cock, listening to the sound of his breath hitching in his throat when you pressed open mouthed, hungry, wet kisses against the strained fabric.

You moaned wantonly when two of Tommy’s thick fingers slowly pressed into your tight opening, gradually sinking deeper till your walls had sucked his fingers all the way down to his knuckles.

“Oh, fuck me.” You heard Tommy mutter with a mouthful of pussy, “So fuckin’ tight, it’s unbelievable.” He shallowly began to pump his fingers, curling them against that soft spongy spot deep inside of you that had your eyes rolling back into your skull. Your hips rolled into his face, feeling the scrape of his beard against your inner thighs. Your lips moved in a frantic motion, sucking, kissing Joel’s cock through the fabric. All it took was for your eyes to flicker upwards towards his face, pupils blown wide, lashes fluttering for him to give in.

“Jesus, baby.” Joel breathed out, nostrils flaring, the veins in his broad neck protruding through the skin, “ok, ok, I’ll take it out for you, my eager girl.” He hummed appreciatively, lips curving upwards into a boyish grin as he reached his hand down beneath the band of his shorts, grasping the base of his cock in his fist and finally freed himself from the confines. His cock sprang up against his stomach, and you wasted no time to drag your tongue from the base all the way up the soft, velvety skin of his girth till you reached the crown of his cock and enveloped the engorged, mushroom head around your lips, swirling your tongue across his slit to collect the bead of precum, swallowing down the taste of him greedily.

He let out a soft grunt, head tilting back slowly, lower lip caught between his teeth as he relaxed further into the chair. He kept one hand firmly grasped around the base of his cock, holding himself steady just for you. While his other hand rested against the crown of your head, gently petting your hair while a tumble of praises slipped past his lips, “Fuuck, baby love. That feels s’good.” He rasped.

You preened at your man’s praise, focusing all of your attention on the head of his cock, placing your hand on top of his, slowly guiding his fist to pump and twist around the girth of him. And when you felt that coil deep within your tummy being pulled tight, and glowing red hot due to Tommy’s ministrations, you eased your mouth off of Joel, little mewls and pants slipping past your lips as you briefly looked over to see Tommy slowly begin to press a third finger alongside the two that were deliciously working inside of you. “Fuck,” you moaned, focusing your attention back on Joel, and lovingly slapped your tongue with the head of his cock, and then your cheek, gazing up at him with those big eyes of yours, entrancing him further.

Joel loved when you gave him the sloppiest head imaginable, when your drool would run down your chin and neck, mouth and throat stuffed with his cock, pretty tears springing along your waterline because he was so fucking thick. But the sight before him now could have easily sent him to an early grave. He watched you lovingly slap your cheek with the head of his cock, blissed out, smiling from ear to ear, and he wished he had his phone right now just so he could take a picture and show you how pretty you looked like this.

“You gonna come all over his fuckin’ fingers, baby love? Get ‘em all nice and creamy? Your pussy sounds so so pretty. Gettin’ her nice and ready for our cocks, hmm?” He cooed, voice dropping down an octave as his eyes flitted downwards between your thighs, listening to the delicious squelch of Tommy’s fingers fucking you open.

“Fuck yeah she is.” Tommy chimed in, pulling his face back, his chin and beard coated in your slick. He watched the way your pussy continued to hug and drag his fingers in further with each shallow thrust. “Pretty lil’ slutty pussy fuckin’ loves havin’ three fingers shoved inside of her. Ain’t that right, babygirl? God, you should see how fuckin’ pretty n’ puffy she is right now.” He rasped, pussy drunk, cock heavy between his thighs and harder than a slab of concrete. “Let’s see how soaked you can get my fingers sugar, and then you’re gonna watch, mouth stuffed with my brothers cock while I fuckin’ suck them clean.”

“Shit.” You whimpered, rubbing Joel’s heavy cock all over your face, leaving sloppy kisses here and there, “yeah, I fucking love it so much, daddy. Feels so good! I’m so close—I’m gonna come all over your fingers, daddy.”

“Yeah you are, babygirl. You’re gonna cream all over them like the good, slutty lil’ girl that daddy knows you are.” Tommy preened, pumping his fingers faster, the muscles in his forearm flexing from the movement, lips sloppily attaching to your stimulated clit, sucking on the little bud harshly.

Joel himself wasn’t usually turned on by the prospect of being called daddy, but hearing you freely moan and come undone around his brother's fingers, and call him daddy? Well, it did something to your man and he let you know immediately how he was feeling by firmly tapping the wet head of his cock against your cheek to refocus your attention on him. “Eyes up here, pretty girl. Eyes on me. Your daddy.” He sternly rasped, lips curved in a grin, brows furrowed intently.

All time seemed to cease when Joel fucking Miller referred to himself as your daddy. Your pretty, slicked covered, glistening lips parted in shock, pupils blown wide, pussy clenching down like a vice around Tommy’s fingers. You met Joel’s stern gaze, watching the way his brow slowly arched, head mockingly tilted to the side, “Yes, daddy.” You whimpered, “I—I won’t forget.”

“Thas’ right, baby love. Keep lookin’ at your daddy with those pretty eyes. Keep ‘em on me, not him. Me.” There was an underlying possessive tone to his words and the weight they held on you. But god, you had never felt more proud of him testing out these new uncharted waters with you, playing into your kinks. You mouthed, “I love you, daddy.” Before slipping his cock right back down your throat, taking as much of him as you could till you were gagging around him, tears welling from the thick girth of his cock stretching your throat open, and your orgasm crashing through you like a freight train.

“That’s it, babygirl!” Tommy preened excitedly when your sweet pussy squeezed around his fingers, coating them in your pearlescent release. “Good fuckin’ girl. You got anymore f’me? C’mon, gimme a lil’ more of your sugar, babygirl.” His mouth made an obscene slurping sound through your folds, shaking his head back and forth while you leaked out along his fingers and down his palm. He slipped his fingers out slowly, your fucked out little hole pushing out what was left of your orgasm to which he greedily lapped it up, moaning at the taste of you.

Joel softly praised you, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, murmuring how much he loved you, gazing at you lovingly and in tandem his brain was screaming: ring, ring, ring. I need a fucking ring!

“Makin’ your daddy so proud, baby love. Did so good f’him.” He cooed, and his big palm rested around your face, slowly easing his cock from your throat and guiding you up towards his face. He kissed you sweetly, licking into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue, cradling your face so delicately, so tenderly, you couldn’t help but moan through the kiss.

Tommy sat back along his haunches, fingers stuffed down his mouth, licking them clean not wanting any of your sweet cream to be wasted. His own cock was leaking through his shorts, desperate for any kind of touch or stimulation.

Your words fell breathlessly against Joel’s lips, fingers tangling and tugging through his soft curls, “I think your brother might have you beat, daddy.” You said half jokingly, half serious.

Joel and Tommy Miller were competitive men by nature, and whether you had meant to or not, you had just unleashed the feral, competitive beasts within them without even realizing it.

Well, as they all say,

good luck, baby love. You and your pussy are gonna need it!

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#this fic is killing me #so good #pornstar joel #reblog

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starry-eyes-love · 11 days

Text

Never Letting You Go

Masterlist

Pairing | Agent Javier Pena x Agent F!Reader

Summary | What starts out as a shitty Valentine’s Day turns into everything that you’ve ever wanted. Javi treats you the way you need, by never letting you go.

A/N: First time writing for Javier's character, forgot this was in the vault. Enjoy

(As a reminder I'm no longer doing tag lists, make sure to turn on notifications on my page for when I post).

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut

Language, angst, mentions of prostitution and Agent work, mentions of the cartel, mentions of cheating (from your previous relationship), grinding, mentions of penetrative sex, soft fluffy moments.

Word Count: 5.5K

“Fuck baby,” he said, grinding against your ass with a little bit more force. “Do you feel that? See, that’s what you fucking do to me woman.” Javi was now rocking harder into you, giving you slow deep thrusts. You could feel his hard outline in his pants as he was seated firmly against you. “This is what you’ve always done to me. I don’t hate you, fuck baby, I like you. I want you. So if you’ll shut up long enough, then maybe you’ll hear me say it.”

Today was Valentine's Day, and usually this was something that didn’t concern Javier Peña. He was a DEA agent that was in the middle of trying to bring down drug dealers and drug lords, he didn’t have time to be concerned about feelings or emotions on a specific day on the calendar. But yet here he was, in the files room pacing back and forth, trying to calm his nerves. Javier was never nervous when it came to the opposite sex. He usually was always so calm, cool, and collected when handling them. Well, except for today that is, and especially when dealing with you. Somehow you had gotten under his skin just enough that now he was pacing back and forth, mind racing of what to do if you didn't like the gift that he just left you on your desk. He was so lost in his own head that he didn’t hear the door open and Steve Murphy step in.

“Javi, what the hell are you-” Steve said, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Javi pacing back and forth, running his hand down his face.

“She ain’t gonna like the gift. Why did you say it was from you and not a secret admirer? Jesus. Soy un idiota (I’m such an idiot).” Javi mumbled to himself.

“You got a lady a Valentine’s gift there Peña?” Murphy said, slamming the files on the desk and causing Javi to jump. Javi just stood there, not answering his friend and fellow DEA agent’s question. Steve, seeing how nervous Javi was, continued to tease him slightly. “Who’s the lucky girl, Peña?”

Before he could answer, they both heard you marching down the hall, yelling, “Peña, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, you arrogant bastard.”

About a year ago you were transferred to Columbia in an attempt to assist in the capture of Pablo Escobar. At first, you were excited about serving your country and bringing the bad guys to justice. That was before meeting your two male DEA partner’s, however. The first time you met Steve Murphy and Javier Peña it was love at first insult. You were the head female DEA agent hired to work alongside them in helping bring down the Medellín Cartel, and subsequently Pablo Escobar. However, your transfer to Columbia somehow pissed both of them off.

Since you had arrived, all those two idiots did was piss you off one way or another. They were the biggest source of your headaches and irritations to date, and one of the biggest reasons why you hated your current job. They wouldn’t listen to you, and they continuously left you out of the loop on information. To make matters worse, when they got bored you were the target of their practical jokes, like today.

Today was Valentine’s Day, and one day on the calendar that you wished you could just completely remove. You hated Valentine’s Day with a passion, ever since you found your ex-fiance balls deep in your sister on Valentine’s Day one year ago. It was after that you found out that the man who you thought loved you had always cheated on you with your sister, from Moment. Fucking. One. You were together five years with him, and apparently all those five years he was also fucking your sister every chance he got. You were happy to hear that her husband caught them in bed and had filed for a divorce. You thought it was poetic how she lost a man who made a shit ton of money for an asshole who could hardly pay rent for his shitty apartment. So when you took the job transfer to Columbia you felt okay with the situation that had happened, as shitty as it sounded.

But then last night your sister called you and informed you that she was getting married, and that she was pregnant too. She advised you that it would be best if you didn’t attend the wedding because of hard feelings the two of you had. When you asked who the soon-to-be husband and dad was, she had informed you that it was your ex-fiance and that they both were happy they found someone that loved them deeply. As soon as you heard that, you told her to ‘go to fucking hell,’ and then slammed the phone down. Out of anger and rage you grabbed the bottle of alcohol that was on the counter, and downed most of it in one go. Yeah, you weren’t going to that fucking wedding.

When you woke up and realized it was Valentine’s Day, you seriously contemplated calling in work sick. But you remembered that you had a morning meeting with your bosses and you knew that Javi and Steve wouldn’t show up. So you begrudgingly got up and showered, swearing underneath your breath of how life wasn’t fair. You hated today, Valentine’s Day, with a passion. Six years ago you met your ex on Valentine’s Day because he was stood up on a date, a date with your sister you found out much later. Then last year, on Valentine’s Day, you caught him cheating with your sister. How did life get so fucked up?

To add to your already sour mood, when you got into work early you noticed that all the rest of the females in the office had big bouquet of flowers on their desks from Javi and Steve. Each of them had a note saying that they really appreciated all the hard work that they have done, and that they were special angels for helping them out. When you got to your desk you didn’t see any flowers or note telling you that you were special. The only note that you saw was from Steve saying “don’t fuck up this meeting” and asked if you took your “anti-bitch pill today yet.” Yeah you hated this fucking day.

The meeting that was only supposed to be an hour went on for three long hours, and you were berated for two out of the three hours in the meeting. You had to once again mop up the mess that both Steve and Javi had created, promising to get results instead of excuses. Recently, all the leads that your department was getting in capturing Escobar were cold, no one had seen him or heard of him in almost a month. Even when you went in and shook the crime tree, nothing fell out of place which made everyone uneasy, especially your superiors.

Finally when the meeting was over with you were able to return to your desk to try to let your heart and blood pressure return to normal. When you approached your desk, you saw a little basket there with a pretty red ribbon with sparkles in it. You looked around quickly to see if anyone noticed or was standing there, you also glanced quickly under your desk to make sure Steve or Javi wasn’t sitting there waiting for you to relax so they could scare you. When you noticed nothing was out of the ordinary you felt your heart flutter in your chest, especially when the tag read “to the most special DEA female agent” in Javier’s handwriting.

At first your heart fluttered, thinking that finally someone, Javi, took the time to give a shit. If you were being honest with yourself, you did like Javier Peña. He was very sexy and attractive. When he wasn’t being an asshole, he was truly sensitive and understood the female sex with their emotions. You thought that he didn’t care anymore about you, but the longer you looked at the name tag on your gift, the more you thought that maybe you were wrong at your assessment. Your heart raced and you felt the heat creep up your neck at the thought that maybe Javi did see you as something more than just an individual who worked with him each day. But when you opened the basket and saw the gift that was laying there for you, your wonder turned into embarrassment as your face fell. Then when you read the note inside you saw red with anger. That bastard took it one step too far this time.

Once Javi heard your voice he suddenly froze, slowly listening to where you were coming from. When he realized that you were getting closer, he glanced over at Murphy with wide, scared eyes. He mouthed “shh, shut the fuck up,” when Steve went to open his mouth to ask Javi something.

As Steve stood there he was trying to understand what the hell his partner had done to anger you so much. He mouthed to Javi ‘what the fuck did you do man?’ Javi just shook his head and placed his finger to his lips to silence Steve’s further questioning. He wasn’t trying to be a coward, but with how angry you were right now, he didn’t want to come face to face with you. Yes, Javi had a knack for pissing you off so much that you’d threaten to kill him. But from how angry you sounded, he figured that if he was standing in front of you right now, that you would in fact shoot him dead.

Javi and Steve continued to stand in silence together for a few minutes. Javi was hoping that you would just continue down the hallway and not stop outside of this door. For a moment it sounded like you had moved on, so much so that Javi felt himself visibly relax and let out a sigh. But that moment was short lived. When Javi heard the door knob turn he quickly said, “shit Murph, lie,” and then he ducked behind one of the filing cabinets against the wall.

“What the-” Steve said, looking confused, but for only a minute as you quickly came bursting through the door seething with anger.

“Murphy, where is he?” you said, steam practically coming out of your ears at how mad and pissed off you were at Javier Peña.

“I don’t-”

“Don’t give me that I don’t know shit. You two are practically glued together at the hip, so where the hell is he?” You bit back, standing right in front of Steve’s face.

“Woah, now wait just a second there princess, don’t be biting my head off. I don’t know where he is, or what he’s done, but you can just curb that attitude of yours and-”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what he’s done. This smells like both Peña and Murphy antics to me,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well sorry cariño, I don’t know where he is or what he’s done.”

Huffing, you let out another long sigh, balling your fists up and slamming them tight against your side. “This is what he’s done,” you said, shoving the box you were holding with the card in his face. “And if you happen to see him, you can tell him that I’m looking for him.”

You went to leave, but Murphy blocked your exit saying, “wait a second here princess, don’t go and give me something like this and then take off. Let’s see what’s gotten your panties in a twist.”

“I knew it, it was your idea. I don’t get why you both have to always be so-” But before you could finish Steve had opened the box and saw what was inside it. Steve pulled out a pair of black lace panties that had a vibrator attached to them, and as he did he noticed the note at the bottom of the box. The note was written in Javi’s handwriting and said, “for all those lonely nights baby, when you’re so wound up and don’t have a man that can be inside you. Enjoy.” Signed, Javier Peña.

Murphy was shocked at what he saw and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He knew Javi loved to rile you up, and he had to hand it to his partner, he definitely got you going. It was the perfect gift to get even for all those irritating moments the three of you had. But when he looked up at you he immediately froze, his laugh dying out in his throat. Your eyes were red and puffy now as frustrated tears streamed down your face. Steve could tell that the jokes maybe went a little too far this time.

“Sweetheart, we’re-”

“Don’t, just don’t Steve,” you said, grabbing the box and throwing everything back inside, not wanting to look up at him. “I get it, it’s a joke. A really fucking mean joke, ya know. You all can have any woman that you want. And here I am, in Columbia, and I can’t even get sleazy drug lords to choose me when I’m undercover. Shit, I couldn’t even keep my ex-fiance faithful on this day. You guys will find this hilarious, last year I found my ex fucking my sister. Apparently he never wanted me, wanted her cause now they’re getting married and having a baby and I’m not welcome around my family any more, cause I guess I can’t keep anyone happy. So nice of you to give the other girls flowers, and tell them how great they are when they don’t even fucking do anything for you. Meanwhile I have five bullet wounds and several cracked ribs for covering your asses. By the way, you guys are getting a raise in pay and I’m getting a 5 dollar reduction in pay. Apparently the superiors feel that it’ll give you guys motivation or something. So yeah, you’re right, perfect joke. Happy fucking Valentine’s Day to me.” And with that you left, slamming the door.

This was a joke that Peña and Murphy started with you about six months ago when you were placed undercover to go and try to extract information of the whereabouts of Pablo Escobar. They placed you at a brothel, knowing that some of Pablo’s higher up men were going to come to choose women to give them sexual favors for the night. With the help of a few informants, they had dressed you up and gave you pointers on how women acted in these places in Colombia. Javi had made a joke at you that you were the highest paid prostitute on the street, but when it came time for Pablo’s men to take you, you were the only one left behind. You weren’t ugly, you actually were quite beautiful, but that night Javi and Murphy had a hay day with you, as you were the only one that was not chosen. To make matters worse, you had gone out with them that night and couldn’t even get a guy to buy you a drink at the bar, let alone talk with you. And now the joke, you thought, had gone too far. Humiliated and embarrassed, you went and gathered your things and left to go home for the day, not wanting to see anyone again.

After you stormed out, and Murphy knew you were gone, he walked over to where Javi was, facing the back wall. “You got her vibrating panties?” Steve said, shaking his head and laughing.

“At the time, I thought it was a good idea. But something got lost in translation I suppose,” he said, still not wanting to leave his hiding spot.

“Peña, let me give you some advice. If you like a girl, don’t get her vibrating panties and then give her a card that says ‘for all those lonely nights when you don’t have a man.’ It just makes you look like an even bigger dick than what you already are.”

“Yeah, I realize that now,” he said, still not coming out of his hiding spot.

“Did ya know any of that other shit she was talking about?” Steve said, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it. Javi shook his head no as he came out of where he was hiding.

“Kinda fucked up if you ask me. Fucking her own sister and then marrying her. Talk about a cold hearted son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, I never knew. Fuck Murph, what do I do?”

“You already know what you gotta do man. Or do I need to call her back in here so she can spell it out for you?”

“Fuck you,” Javi said, walking out the door to go find you. He felt like the biggest dick right now. The gift and note wasn’t a joke from him, and he hated to think that you felt like it was.

Javi eventually learned that you had decided to go home for the day, leaving your work here. “She’s taking a sick day,” is what Maria, the secretary in the front office, had told him. Javi had attempted to get some paperwork done, but he kept thinking about you and how hurt you sounded when talking with Murphy. He didn’t mean for it to come off as a joke, in fact Javi wanted you to have the panties for a good reason, he wanted you to wear them for him.

Javi had been the biggest pain in your ass from the start. He was always coming over to your desk, forcing you to work through his work, making you work in the field with him, etc. To you it felt like he was punishing you for being good at your job. But in reality, he secretly liked you and wanted to be with you. Javi didn’t know why he couldn’t communicate his feelings to you, why he always had to make fun of you or rile you up. “I’m taking a sick day,” Javi told Murphy as he walked towards the door.

Murphy, who was still at his desk, said “Connie said she’s at home now.” Connie was one of your best friends here in Colombia. Being in a foreign country was hard, and making friends was even harder, especially what you did for a job. Your friends back at home disagreed with your career choice of being sent to Colombia, so your entire support structure was no longer there. Connie was one of the nicest women you had met or seen in the longest time. She understood your career choice, and didn’t hold it against you when your plans would change.

Javi had stopped and bought a dozen flowers from a street vendor before he got to your house. When he knocked on the door he softly said, “querida, I’m so sorry. Please open up, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I-”

“Who the fuck said you made me cry Peña?” you said, opening up the door suddenly, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes, tears at your lash line.

“No one I, Jesus woman, c’mere,” he said, stepping inside and placing the flowers on the end table by the door when he saw your face. He then reached for you, pulled you tight into his chest, holding you as the dam opened up again and the tears fell. “I’m so sorry baby, so sorry. I didn’t mean how it came out, fuck-”

“What did I do for you to hate me?” you said, voice muffled in his chest.

“Nothin’ baby, I don’t hate you, I-” he said, rubbing his hand up and down your back, trying to soothe you. This was not going the way that he had hoped.

“I mean, I pull extra duty, and am one of the strongest hitters on the team. Fuck Javi, I even have brought in more leads than Murphy and yet you publicly humiliate me.” You said, as a sob broke free from your mouth. You didn’t know why you were opening up, allowing Javi to attempt to soothe you. You just didn’t have it in you to fight right now, too emotionally worked up to even care.

“No, no, baby. It ain’t like that, look at me,” Javi said, pulling you away from his chest and gently cupping your face with his hands. “Querida, I got them for you and for me, for you to think about me.”

Shaking your head you stepped back and said, “what? Peña, what the fuck are you talking about for you and me? I’m not-”

“Shit, this ain’t coming out the way I wanted it to,” Javi said, pacing back and forth in your living room. Javi was mumbling to himself, unsure of how to deal with the situation and correct it. Not knowing how to place it into words, his feelings, he thought that he could show you. He immediately reached for you and kissed you hard on the lips. Javi, once again, was hoping the kiss would show you that he cared, but all you read was he was being condescending once again. You immediately pulled back and found your strength and slapped Javi hard across his face.

“Javi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Just because I’m crying, trying to understand why the guy I have a crush on hates me, doesn’t give you the right to-”

“I like you,” he said, rubbing the sting site he felt across his cheek. Damn that woman could hit hard, he thought to himself. You continued to talk overtop of him, not realizing what he just said. You kept saying how much of an asshole he’s been to you and how much you hate men as you’ve always been taken advantage of. Javi shook his head at you, hearing words such as dickhead, asshole along with other words such as, pendejo and cabrón. You kept telling him off, not listening to anything that he had just told you.

With a sarcastic laugh, he said, “I can’t fucking believe you, you don’t listen baby.” He was now getting just as frustrated at you for not listening to him. She says I don’t listen, hell, she doesn’t listen.

All you heard was ‘I can’t fucking believe you’ and nothing else. Once again, you marched over to smack Javi hard across the face. But this time, he caught your hand mid-air saying, “I don’t think so cariño. You only get one free hit, and you already used it up for today.”

The sadness that you felt earlier had now turned into blinding anger and rage. You started fighting back. You were done with men treating you like assholes, for cheating on you with your sister, for not listening to you or even attempt at paying attention. You started hitting Javi’s chest, yelling at him and saying, “you’re an asshole,” over and over again. You were throwing a temper tantrum, frustrated about the last few days, and Javi was your outlet. However, Javi didn’t see your attitude nor behavior as enduring or even cute. Him, having about enough of you using him as a physical punching bag, decided to take matters into his own hands to calm you down. He grabbed your hand and threw it behind your back, slamming you to the ground while yelling, “Enough.”

You kept trying to kick him, to hurt him more. You weren’t part of this planet anymore, you just saw red at reliving every shitty moment for the last six years. Of taking the smacks to the face your boyfriend gave you when he was drunk and you questioned why he had red lipstick stains on his shirt and around his cock as you undressed him from a night out with his friends. What you didn’t know is that it was your sister’s lips that were around him, and not some other woman. It didn’t make those moments easier, but you always thought that maybe it was just a one night stand, not a five year long relationship behind your back.

You kept kicking Javi, yelling that you were done with people hurting you, clearly not seeing him anymore. To help calm you down, Javi maneuvered his body so he was sitting on your ass, with your arm behind your back. Your chest was laying flat on the floor, his chest then tight on your back as he snarled in your ear, “you’re gonna stop this shit, right now, stop trying to hit me.”

“Fuck you David-” you said, not realizing that you called him your ex.

“I’m not him baby. I never was, nor will I ever be him. So stop calling me David, my name isn’t fucking David.” Javi growled in your ear, leaning harder into you to get you to calm down.

You finally relaxed at hearing Javi speak to you, reminding yourself that he wasn’t your ex. As soon as you relaxed Javi released your arm, but stayed firm against you, hands on both sides of your head as he breathed hard and fast at the fight that you gave him. It was then that you remembered everything that Javi and you were, everything that you were alone.

Sometimes at night when you couldn’t sleep you’d go back into work and find Javi working alone at his desk. He’d always come over and ask you why you were showing up at work around midnight on a day where you just placed in 12 hours. Alone the two of you would always find moments where you could be soft with each other. He’d order you both greasy pizza to eat at night and he’d tease you of picking off all the pepperoni. Nights where you were scared to be home alone, he’d take you back to his house and you’d sleep in his bed when he slept on the couch. When you got shot several times, after you were discharged home, he’d stay with you in your apartment. He even slept next to you on your bed a few times.

He also bathed you when you got sick with a fever from the infection of the bullet wounds, and nursed you back to health for several weeks. If you were being honest, Javi was your best friend when the two of you were alone. But at work, he was the biggest dickhead. You were jealous when he started flirting with the new secretary that came in, Phillis, and hated when you saw him at the brothel down the street. Javi never attempted sex with you, and honestly, it upset you. You wanted him, but apparently he never wanted you. So at work you took out your frustration the only way you knew how, you became a pain in his ass like he was a pain in yours.

But when Javi didn’t move, continuing to breathe hard in and out, you knew that something had changed. You went to move your ass and immediately he hissed “don’t” as his hips stayed tight against yours, not moving nor letting you up. After a moment of submitting to him you heard him ask in a strained voice “are you calm enough for me to move or do we have to keep you like this for a little longer?”

You didn’t know why you felt like saying it out loud, but you didn’t want to play this game of not being honest with him anymore. “I’ve calmed down, but Javi, I’d like it if you stay like this for a little while, hell you can even push deeper into me if you want.” You gave Javi a little wiggle of your ass at his statement.

The air around the two of you changed, thickening with sexual tension. “Shit baby, ya can’t say that to me,'' he said, slightly leaning forward and pushing his crotch tighter to your ass. You felt him slightly rock back and forth, groaning at the feel of you beneath him.

You slightly arched your back, pushing up so he could kiss your neck. When you changed the position both of you moaned loud in unison, feeling his hips slowly grind harder into you. You never remembered feeling this good by just letting a man grind into you, but fuck, Javi was slowly making you feel feral.

“Javi, I don’t-” you said slowly.

“No,” He growled, not wanting you to tell him to stop. He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold back. He wanted so desperately to be deep inside of your warm cunt that he was struggling right now to keep his composure. “Fuck hermosa, feel what you do to me.”

But you were, you felt how much Javi wanted you and you knew how much you wanted him. You laid there and let him slowly grind his hips into you again until something snapped inside.

“Javi, fuck me,” you said, pushing your ass harded back into him.

Javi immediately stilled his hips at your statement, looking down at you, trying to determine if what you were asking was what he thought. When he didn’t respond again, you said with a little more bite, “Javi, you gave me a vibrator for all those lonely nights when I don’t have a man’s dick inside of me. Please, I don’t want to use the vibrator tonight. For once on Valentine’s Day I want a man inside me that fucking cares. If you really care, please give me that.”

You felt Javi get off from you and walk away, towards the door, rustling around with something. You laid face down in the middle of your living room, tears welling up in your eyes at being rejected once again. You hated this fucking holiday, but when you let out a little sniffle you felt his hand cup your chin, turning you to the side. With the softest eyes possible he said, “come on now, no more crying. Now up you go,” as he helped you stand. Once you were standing he smiled down at you and then gave you a slow tender kiss on the lips. When he pulled back he held out the black lace panties in front of your face.

“Here, I bought these for you. Now, go and put them on, and let me see them on you. Then I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve, like a man that’s wanted to be with you from the moment he laid eyes on you. Fuck what you stupid ex did to you last year-”

“And every year before,” you said softly.

Javi’s eyes got impossibly dark, anger and lust mixing with them. He hated your ex, the man that broke you. If Javi had to spend the rest of his life showing you that you deserved more, then he would do it. Fuck his superiors, or anyone else that thought he and you shouldn’t be together.

“The fact that you say that makes me angry that any man would ever-”

“Forget it Javi, it’s-”

“No. Now pay attention sweetheart, cause I’m only gonna say it once. No man should ever make you feel like this, ever, you hear me? Now, go put them on baby, and let me see you in them. Then, I’m gonna take you to bed and show you how a man is supposed to treat the woman he cares about.”

“Oh, and how’s that Peña, what are you gonna do that makes me forget all the stupid shit other men have done?” You said, playfully nudging Javi and his cockiness that you have found you love.

Javi grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back while whispering above you, “I’m gonna fuck you so good that you’re gonna forget every man before me, baby. Then I’m gonna show you how a real man treats the woman he’s crazy over. It’s just you and me, and I’ll remind you of that every night before we go to sleep. There’s no one’s pussy I’d rather be buried in than yours. I only want to be balls deep in you, and not anyone else.” Javi then slammed his lips onto yours and gave you a kiss like you deserved.

Maybe you had to have David be in your life and screw you over, because without him, you’d never have met Javier Peña. Javi was a real man that made good on his promises, of being the man that you needed. Before the night was over, and after you came down from your intense rough sex with him, you found yourself looking into his eyes and seeing the potential for a future once again. As Javi slowly rocked into you, making slow love at the end, he whispered, “you’re mine cariño, and I’m never letting you go.” And that was the thing that tipped you both over the edge, moaning each other’s names and kissing each other like you both had just found your future soulmate.

Javi did make good on his promises, he never let you go.

232 notes · View notes

starry-eyes-love · 13 days

Text

Scars – A Joel Miller/Reader Oneshot

“You have them too.” You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair. “Yes,” He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel. “Show me.”

Summary: When Joel stumbles into the kitchen at 2am, restless and tense, he doesn't expect to find you at the table, nursing a cold mug of tea. He certainly doesn't expect to end up tracing the scars on your skin, explaining how he got his, your hands mapping the contors of each other's old wounds until something new emerges.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, mutual pining, kind of angsty but also fluffy?, descriptions of old injuries, explicit sex, PIV, fingering, dirty talk, body worship, flirting, yearning, mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 3.3k

It’s late, and the rest of Jackson is asleep.

A single street lamp lights the dark kitchen, casting a soft orange glow over the table and your half empty mug. The tea is long-since cold, but you keep your hands wrapped around it anyway, trying to soak up the last of its heat. There’s a microwave behind you, and a coffee machine, and enough hot water to fill several baths, but after twenty years of surviving by fire light and camping stoves, these modern conveniences still seem like the technology of your childhood, distant and unrealistic. And so the tea remains cold.

You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the normality of Jackson: the routine and order and kindness that seeps into every interaction, every town meeting and evening out. It’s been four months since you arrived – limping and half-dead, frozen almost solid by the bitter Wyoming winter – at the town’s gates.

And now you’re inside on a mild spring night, sharing a house with a man and his not-daughter, healthy and almost whole again. The town council were apologetic about housing you with Joel and Ellie: it was the only house with a spare bedroom at the time, but in truth it had been a relief. There was something overwhelmingly comforting about being around other people again, sleeping only a thin wall away from another human being, sharing meals and chores.

Joel’s quiet and serious most of the time, but you see cracks appearing in his hard exterior when he’s with Ellie, or his brother Tommy. Something of the man that existed before the world ended. And more recently he’s started opening up to you, too; rolling his eyes at you behind Ellie’s back when she swears or insults houseguests, chuckling at your bad jokes, letting his guard down when he gets home from a hard day’s construction work, allowing you to make him hot drinks and massage his sore shoulders.

You’re careful not to push anything too far, but the slow roll into familiarity with Joel has bred something less familial, too. Something wanting and churning that settles deep in your belly when you’re around him. It makes you want to press yourself against him, settle yourself in the crook of his shoulder, lick the thick tendons of his neck. Whether he feels the same is a mystery. He’s older than you by a couple of decades, not that that matters to you – you’re both adults – but he maintains a distance. Lets you massage his shoulders but never makes a sound while you do it. Holds the door open for you but keeps a respectful distance when you walk side-by-side through town. Allows you to rest your feet in his lap in the evenings on the sofa, but doesn’t touch them, or acknowledge them. You’ve heard him moving around in the night, restless and fidgety, but he never comes to your room on those long dark nights seeking comfort or companionship.

He's been quiet since he went to bed several hours earlier on this particular night, which is why it’s a shock when the kitchen light flickers on, illuminating Joel’s broad silhouette in the doorway. You scramble out of the chair onto your feet, heart thumping. He holds a hand up, calmingly, doesn’t move as your eyes adjust to the light.

“Fucking hell, Joel. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” He takes a step into the kitchen, feet bare on the terracotta tiles.

He’s still in his clothes from today, dark jeans under a thin grey tee, both slightly crumpled as though he’s slept in them. He always does. Undoubtedly it’s the same ritual that makes him keep a pistol on his bedside table, leave a packed go-bag by the front door; the same anxiety that casts dark shadows under his eyes, fuels his insomnia and maintains his habitual whiskey drinking. He’s ready for anything, always, because he’s been through shit and he thinks at any moment it’ll happen again. You understand. It’s why you’re in the kitchen at 2am, cold tea clutched between shaking hands.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask, as he opens a high cupboard and pulls out a tumbler.

You move around him, tip the dregs of your tea down the sink.

“Something like that,” He replies, voice croaky.

He pours the whiskey out into the glass, swirls it in thick fingers and then rests back against the kitchen counter opposite you, eyes finally finding yours. They hover for a moment on your face, dark and penetrating, then flick to one shoulder, the other, down your arm.

You keep them covered, normally. Wear long sleeves even in the heat of summer, never undress around anyone. You’ve avoided the swimming pond that opened three weeks ago, even though the water looked heavenly in the warm April weather, unwillingly to bear the scars that litter your body to the town, afraid they’ll show the community who you really are, reveal the terrible things you’ve done to survive. But unlike Joel you don’t have a habit of sleeping in your clothes, and the thin vest and shorts you’re wearing now reveals those long-hidden scars to him in the bright kitchen light.

The bullet wound is the worst one; a puckered, deep purple starburst across one shoulder, pale skin wrought into something alien and terrible. It’s this one that his gaze linger on, dark eyes making heat roll up your spine. His fist is gripping the whiskey glass so tightly that the tips of his fingers and knuckles are white with the strain of it.

“They’re awful, I know.” You say into the silence.

“What? No- God, no. They’re not.” A pause, his eyes flicking away from yours, over to the far wall, back across. “I’ve got ‘em, too. We all have.”

You scoff at this. Move your hand up, place it on your shoulder. His hand twitches where it rests on the countertop, but he doesn’t move.

“You cover them.” He says. It’s not a question, but you feel like you have to answer anyway.

“Yes.” A breath, shaky on the exhale. “They’re ugly.” “No.” His voice is firm, commanding in the quiet kitchen. Despite yourself, you feel heat pooling between your thighs and you fidget, pressing them together, crossing your feet. The movement makes his eye dart down to your bare legs. You watch the apple of his throat as he swallows thickly, eyes trailing up to the hem of your shorts. There’s a scar there, too, bisecting your upper thigh. Thin and white, a reminder of a long ago incident with barbed wire.

“They’re not…” His voice trails off, eyes searching your face. “Nothing on you is ugly. Not even the scars. Especially not the scars.”

“No?”

“No.” He shifts, puts the whiskey glass down on the counter behind him and lifts his hand to your shoulder. Fingertips trace the edge of the bullet scar, and you feel goosepimples rise in their wake despite the warmth of the kitchen. He runs his hand up past its end, to your throat, along your collar bone and to the other arm. The scars there are paler, older. Shrapnel and grazes from a fall. Each one his fingertips trace reverently, as though they’re a holy text written across your skin. When he reaches the last, the one that loops around your wrist, the indent of a handcuff, you’re sure your heart is thumping so loudly he must be able to hear it, too. Slick is pooling between your thighs, hot and wet against the thin shorts you’re wearing.

“There are more,” You say, so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

“Show me.”

It’s like a dance. You pull off your vest and Joel’s hand follows the curve of your waist, thumb dipping to press the small coin-shaped scar just below your rib cage. You sigh and he lets his hand run over your ribs, fingertips finding the spaces between like piano keys. When he reaches the curve of your bare breast he pauses, the weight of your flesh resting in the valley between his index finger and thumb. You don’t say anything, just lean into him, holding his eye contact, the pleasure and warmth of his hand making you bold. He moves slowly, carefully, rolling the bud of your nipple between his finger and thumb, pinching just so, pleasure blossoming in your chest, down your spine and to your cunt.

“This okay?” He asks, eyes flicking up from his hand to your face, tracking the pull of your eyebrows as they pitch together, the move of your mouth as you answer him with a shaky exhale.

“What about this one?” He asks, hand leaving your breast to trace across the scar that laces up your thigh under the hem of your shorts. “Can I?”

You’re not sure what he’s asking but you know that you want him to, want him to do whatever it is he’s asking so you nod. His hand grip your waist to lift you, setting you down on the kitchen counter. You grasp at his shoulders, the solid breadth of him hard under your hands. The counter is cold against the back of your legs, but before you can complain his hot hand is wrapped back around your thigh, thumb tracing the scar there again, fingertips inching up to the apex of your legs. He moves to stand between your open legs, still keeping a few inches of distance between you, the extra height of the counter making your eyes level. His burn into your face as he slips his hand higher still, fingers seeking out the wet heat of you, dipping inside, gathering slick and gliding it up to your clit.

“Joel,” You say into the aching gap between your lips and his.

“You’re fucking perfect,” He says, the words hot on your mouth, his breath mingling with your needy sighs. “All of you, you understand?”

You can only nod into his shoulder, head dropping to rest against the broad heft of it, his fingers thrumming a steady rhythm against your clit that has pleasure ratcheting up inside you. You’re still in your tiny sleep shorts, Joel’s hand forcing the crotch aside to palm at your drenched cunt. He slips two thick fingers into you, presses his thumb to your clit, and that tips you over the edge, pleasure coursing through you like fire.

He talks you through it, keeps up the firm press of his fingers, praises falling from his lips like prayers.

Good girl, that’s it, such a good fucking girl for me, taking what you need, so fucking perfect.

It’s only then, as you come down from the high, that he finally kisses you, tilting your head up with a gentle hand and fitting his lips to yours. They’re soft and dry, plush against your own. He slides his tongue against the seam of your lips, into the wet heat of your mouth, pulls back, before driving forward again, breathless and frantic. You thread your hands into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging him against you, teeth clashing in your mutual desperation. His pulls his fingers from your wet heat, smears your slick up your sides as his palms your breasts, his earlier gentleness gone. But when you slip a hand between your bodies, seeking out the hard length of him in his jeans, he pulls back. His eyes are dark despite the bright kitchen light, pupils eating up the thin sliver of brown at the edges, but there’s a reticence there.

“You have them too.” You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair.

“Yes,” He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel.

“Show me.”

He steps back, out of the circle of your legs, pulls at the neck of his t-shirt and drags it up, over his head and off. His eyes are fixed on you, watching you as you take in the broad bulk of him, the sloping plains of his shoulders and chest down to a softer stomach. He’s all strength: hard where you’re soft, his scars stretched across thick muscle and tanned flesh. There’s one at his side that canters a jagged line across his stomach, and that’s where your hand goes, holding his waist to rest your thumb against its uneven edge. It looks fairly fresh, no more than a couple of years old, still red.

“What’s this from?” You ask.

“I was stabbed,” He replies, “while I was with Ellie.”

“It looks like it was bad.”

“Well, she stitched it up, so,” He smiles, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes, growing bolder as your hands map his chest and stomach.

“And this one?” An old one, hardly noticeable in the light, to the right of his belly button.

“Appendicitis, when I was twelve.”

“These?” A collection of four or five small white gash marks, peppered across his shoulders and along his collarbone.

“Makeshift grenade.” He says. “Went off in my hand.”

You lean forward, press your lips to the first of the scars and kiss it, drag your lips along to the second, and then the third. At the fourth you let your tongue dart out, tasting the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, salty and warm. He stands stock still as you do so, hands resting at your hips, fingertips gripping the flesh there tight enough to leave bruises. He sighs at the feel of your tongue against his skin, the insistent press of your mouth to his collarbone, your teeth, scraping at the tendon that jolts in his neck.

This time, when you reach for the button of his jeans he helps you, pops the first button, drags the zipper down and pushes them off his hips, revealing thick thighs corded with muscle, dusted with dark hair. He kicks the jeans the rest of the way off, steps forward again into the circle of your hips, letting you knead the thick flesh of his ass, pull him against you so that his hot length is pressed to the crotch of your shorts, two pieces of thin cotton the only thing separating you.

You kiss up the column of his throat, press your teeth to his ear lobe, and are rewarded with a soft groan that sends pleasure sparking up your spine again, cunt clenching down on nothing. His cock twitches against you when you lick a stripe along the underside of his jaw. You fit your lips back to his. This kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing, his strong nose pressed to yours, one of his hands fisting in your hair, gripping tight at the ponytail at the base of your neck, holding you to him. You shuffle on the counter, pull your shorts off and down to join his jeans and shirt on the tiled floor.

“Take them off,” You say into his mouth, needy fingers sliding into the waistband of his briefs, seeking the length of him.

He does as you ask, bending to push them down, cock dipping and slapping up against his stomach as he frees it. He’s big, thick and beautiful, veins standing out against the shaft, precum beading at the tip. He hisses into your open mouth when you wrap your fist around him and stroke slowly up and down, thumb seeking out his slit, spreading his arousal and yours over it and down his length.

“Jesus, darlin’,” He sighs against the side of your neck, stubble rough against you, his hands seeking out the weight of your tits again, pressing open mouthed kisses against your skin.

You pull him back against you, press the blunt head of him to your slick entrance and watch him watch himself sink inside you, inch by inch, stretching you open. The burn of it is intoxicating, his thick length opening you up, pressing inside deliciously, white-hot pleasure blossoming up through your body.

“Feels so good, Joel,” You tell him as he shakes against you, bottoming out and dragging himself out only to press back inside.

“Pussy’s so goddamn perfect,” He says, his voice almost cracking with the effort of it.

“Please, Joel,” you hiss, “harder, please.”

The sound he makes then is animalistic, something between a grunt and a growl, teeth clenched, jaw pressed hard to your neck. He tightens his grip on your hips, anchors you to the counter and starts pounding into you. The strength of him is something to behold, his hips snapping into yours, muscles of his back shifting and clenching beneath your grasping hands.

“So fucking good,” he groans, “wanna stay inside you for the rest of my fucking life, darlin’.”

You don’t know how he’s so articulate; it’s all you can do to hold on to his shoulders and let him fuck you, whimpers and moans pouring from your open lips as he does, the slap of his hips against yours filthy in the otherwise silent house. When he slows his thrusts again he pulls back from you to watch where you’re joined, eyes dark, perspiration beading on his forehead. There’s a vein in his neck that’s pulsing visibly, a drop of sweat trickling down beside it, charting a course through patchy stubble. He reaches between your bodies, splays his hand over your mound and presses his thumb to your clit.

“Yes, Joel, please, God.”

“I can feel how close you are, darlin’” He says, “can feel you gripping me so tight.”

He strums his thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing small, tight circles that have you seeing stars within seconds, tension coiling inside you, ratcheting up until it breaks on a hard thrust of his hips, his cock hitting that spongy place inside you that sends pleasure right down to your toes. You come hard, fingernails digging into the hard flesh of his shoulders, Joel’s mouth clamped to your throat, teeth worrying the skin there, repeating the same phrase over and over as you come down.

There it is, there it is, good girl, I’ve got you.

He thrusts lazily into you as you slowly relax again, little aftershocks continuing for several long minutes, the blunt head of him hitting that same spot inside you again and again. You can tell he’s close now, his hands shaking where they’re gripping your hips again, face set in concentration, squeezing his eyes shut every few thrusts as though he’s desperately trying to hold himself back.

“Let go, Joel. Please,” You whisper, and he hisses through his teeth, pulls you bodily forward on the counter so that the angle changes and he can drive up into you, his pace quickening again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’” He rasps, thrusting into you once- twice- three more times.

He pulls out then, fist gripping the base of his cock as he paints your stomach and cunt with his cum, hot and thick. His face is a rapture, eyes pitch black, teeth bared with pleasure and need, the strong set of his jaw holding together what little restraint he has left.

He kisses you again after, drags kitchen roll from the holder to clean you up, presses sweet lips to your cheeks and temples, down your neck, across your chest, like he’s trying to taste the ecstasy that’s written across your heated skin.

Outside, dawn is quickly approaching. The weak rays of sunlight that filter into the kitchen illuminate the tan glow of Joel’s face and paint the scars on your bodies in pale yellow light. You don’t think anything’s ever looked more beautiful.

#amazing story #this man makes me feral #joel miller fic #gruff yet gentle #reblog

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starry-eyes-love · 16 days

Text

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader (One-shot, AU, No Outbreak). One-shot but in the same universe as Marriage Dynamics. This happens way later than the storyline within that series though. Can be read as a stand-alone or within the series.

Summary | Joel feels a little self conscious that he has to admit to you, his wife, that he has erectile dysfunction, and that he’s out of his little blue pills. You, being the understanding and loving woman that you are, remind him just how sexy he is, even with his little problem and that love doesn’t come with conditions.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut.

Age gap (58/40s), language, husband/wife dynamics, got some angst in this one (but it ends where they are ok and happy), smut, f! (fingering), m! (hand job), mentions of f! (oral), slight body descriptions (she states she’s 30 lbs heavier), mentions of erectile dysfunction and Joel having to take Viagra, Joel being out of Viagra (that poor man), sweet and tender moments, comfort, terms of endearment, you teasing Joel that he’s old and him showing you that he’s not. This is basically half story and half smut, so enjoy :)

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The longer your husband snapped his powerful hips and ground into you, the more worked up you were getting. Joel knew how to work you up, get you so riled up that you’d beg him to fuck you. You were trying to bite back your moans and whimpers, not wanting to give in right away. But when you heard Joel speak filthy things into your ear, you turned into a needy, whimpering little mess.

Joel stood in the bathroom, looking up at himself in the mirror while sighing. He didn’t know how it happened. How did he become an old man where his body required medication to function normally. Here he was, 58, with a worn out body that he no longer recognized. He had spent his entire life working construction, and now he was feeling it. He had aches and pains in places that he didn’t even know existed. He took blood pressure and cholesterol medication everyday just to keep his body somewhat on the right track. But worst of all, he had to start taking a small blue pill to help him obtain and sustain an erection. Yup, Joel Miller was diagnosed about six months ago with erectile dysfunction, something that he thought only old men got. But here he was, 58, and having to take Viagra just so he could properly fuck his wife. Joel didn’t know what was worse, having to take the little blue pill or the fact that you knew nothing about it. To make matters worse, he ran out of his special little pills, and he couldn't get any more until about six weeks. His doctor was on vacation and wanted to see Joel upon his return before re-filling his prescription. Joel didn't know how, but he had to figure out a way to keep you happy, without embarrassing himself any further. As he ran a hand down his face, he exhaled loudly, mumbling to himself ‘goddamn, when the hell did I get old?’

“What's that scowl for, old man, especially so early in the morning?” You teased, walking up to the other sink in the bathroom to wash your face. Your master bathroom now had two sinks, his and hers. It was a side project that Joel had completed last summer with the help from Tommy. He got tired of your constant nagging of finding his facial hair trimmings in the sink. So he decided to knock out a few walls and build you your very own sink with counter space. A his and hers master bathroom off from your bedroom. It only took a few weekends, but eventually his little side project was done. Now you both had enough counter space, where the two of you weren't bickering about where everything went in the bathroom anymore. Joel no longer grumbled about you taking up his side of the counter with your serums and ointments for your face. And you no longer nagged him about finding his beard trimmings in the sink.

“Quit it,” he had huffed, giving you a dirty look in the mirror as he finished trimming his beard.

“Woah, what's that look for?” You asked, taking a few steps towards him to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. “Good morning. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

Joel exhaled and shook his head, mumbling to you, “mornin,’” as you went over to your sink to wash your face. You knew Joel enough to know that this scowl on his face was only reserved for when he was upset about something or someone. You had hoped that someone wasn't you.

“Did I piss you off or something?” You asked while looking at him in the mirror, trying to figure out where his sour mood was coming from. “You're awfully grumpy this morning.” When he didn't respond, you replied again with a little more bite to your words. “Well, for someone who got laid last night, you don't seem very happy about it today.”

Joel huffed at you while rolling his eyes and mumbling, “yeah, well, I'm paying for it this morning now ain't I? M’back is fucking killing me.”

Oh, so that's why he was grumpy.

A part of you instantly became frustrated at his statement, but you bit your lip and tried not to say something inappropriate back. You enjoyed last night a lot with your husband, especially when you begged him to go harder. His answer to that request was to hold your head against the mattress as he fucked you hard from behind. It had been a long time since Joel Miller became unhinged like that in the bedroom, and if you were being honest with yourself, it felt fucking fantastic. It was something that you desperately missed. However, according to Joel’s comments and current mood, apparently he didn't feel the same way today as you did. He was now hurting, wincing as he twisted to grab the scissors to trim his mustache. You didn't want Joel to regret doing what he did with you, nor did you want him to be in any pain. His obvious lack of enthusiasm this morning about your midnight activities made you feel self-conscious. Nodding your head you said “ok,” as you attempted to wash your face. But when you stood there you felt yourself get anxious and self conscious about last night.

Did he not enjoy it with me? Maybe it’s because I’m not as thin as I used to be anymore? I did put on about 30 pounds over the years, so maybe I hurt him with my weight? You knew your body had changed a lot over the years, you no longer had a flat stomach or a tight ass. You had what people called a mom body. A slightly curvy, unattractive, stretch-mark laced body that carried three kids. Your later adult years were more about raising your kids than it was about going to the gym and looking sexy like a model or a porn star.

As you stood there, allowing your mind to run wild at the reasons why Joel may have not enjoyed himself last night, your hands started to tremble slightly and your eyes started to sting from the tears that were threatening to form. You quickly splashed water over them to try to stop the emotional reaction that you were getting. You were very hormonal recently, especially since your doctor said that you needed to stop your birth control. She told you several months ago that it wasn't healthy for a woman in her forties to continue to take birth control. So you stopped last month, two months after Joel got a vasectomy. Joel and you were done having kids. With Sarah finishing college, and with three kids that you had with him still at home, you had agreed that the only other future babies that would be in your house would be future grandchildren. What you didn't realize was that when you stopped birth control you would become more sensitive with your emotions again as your body adjusted.

Usually any type of grumpy behavior or comments from Joel like this wouldn't bother you under normal circumstances, but today you were extra sensitive and emotional. It didn't help that you had been super horny for your husband for the past two weeks while he was gone on a business trip. With the lack of kids for the weekend, Joel had taken his last blue pill right before he got home. When he got home, he barely made it through the door before he was thrusting himself deep inside of you, claiming you once again as his.

Now as Joel stood there, watching you through the mirror, he knew something was up. You kept alternating between splashing water on your face and then drying it. When he saw you do it a fourth time, he had to say something to you.

“Babe,” he said, trying to get your attention. When you didn't answer, but kept up your routine of splashing water onto your face, he knew something was wrong. He also noticed that you untied and retied your robe several times, mumbling to yourself that you hated your mom-type body.

Fuck, Joel thought. He could see that you were reading too much into his mood and that you probably were coming to the wrong conclusion yet again with his attitude. Joel wasn't upset or grumpy from the sex he had last night, because damn he loved your body so much. He was so turned on by it last night. He loved pounding his wife’s tight little pussy and hearing all those filthy little noises that you made for him. The reason for his sour mood this morning was because he was out of those damn blue pills, the ones that allowed him to be buried deep inside of you as he heard you moan his name.

When you didn't answer him, he tried again. “Honey, will ya look at me for a second?” When you finally looked up at him, he saw your lip quiver and the tears begin to fall. He immediately let out an exaggerated sigh, mumbling ‘fuck’ under his breath.

As soon as you turned to leave, Joel spoke up saying, “baby, I didn't mean anything by it. Fuck, c’mere will ya.” You had only gotten about three steps out of the door before Joel grabbed you by the waist and pulled you hard against his chest.

“Baby c’mon, I didn’t mean it like that. No, shh, it’s okay, don’t cry,” Joel said, holding you close. He had one arm around your waist holding you firm to his body, while his other hand was gently wiping the tears from your eyes. You wouldn't turn to look at him, so he just held you against his chest while trying to console you. “Baby, come on now. Shhh, don't cry sugar. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I'm not cryin’,” you mumbled, trying to sound stern, but failing miserably at your attempt. Joel cupped your cheek, and gently turned your head back towards him, kissing you tenderly while continuing to softly tell you that he was sorry for his mood and that he loved you.

Joel Miller may be several things in life. He may be grumpy and not very communicative from time to time. Often he’s described by others as being an asshole, especially when people piss him off. Usually he doesn't apologize for his grumpiness or gruffness, unless it's dealing with family. And it fucking kills him to see you, his wife, someone that he desperately loves and cares for cry because of his behavior. Joel never likes seeing you cry, in fact, it’s his least favorite thing to see.

After a few moments of tender kisses, Joel slowly started to deepen them into more passionate ones. He was walking a fine line here. He was trying to make up for being an asshole to you this morning, but also trying not to progress it too far where his lack of ability in performance would be seen. But with those little whimpers that you were doing, along with how you were gently nipping his neck, Joel found his resolve quickly crumbling.

“Baby, we gotta slow down,” he said, nipping at your collarbone and then giving you a hot and messy kiss to your lips.

God, it felt so good kissing his wife like this. Joel didn't remember the last time you two made out like this; all lips, tongue and teeth. He slowly backed you up to the wall and then hoisted you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. After another needy whimper from your mouth, Joel's resolve completely crumbled and he found himself thrusting hard up into you and grinding his hips against your clothed core.

“Is this what my baby wants, huh? Does she want her husband to show her who’s boss? To show her how a real man fucks, hmm?

“Yes. Please baby, f-fuck me. Show me how a real man does it, I need it,” you panted, reaching down to unbuckle and unbutton his pants. Your cunt was practically throbbing. So desperate to feel your husband’s stretch, to feel so full of him. Joel was a big man, he was long and thick. You always enjoyed the sting of his stretch, and the heaviness of his cock inside of you.

As soon as you touched Joel’s belt, he remembered the big problem that he had. He was only half hard with the inability to get fully hard for you. Goddamn fucking pills. Joel, feeling embarrassed at the situation, gently set you back down while placing a hand on top of yours. He was trying to stop you from reaching inside his pants.

“Baby, fuck, we can't” he said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, breathing slow, trying to find a way out of this embarrassing situation.

“What? Why? I don't understand,” you said with disbelief. You were trying to understand why your husband, who had been gone several weeks on a work trip, didn't want to have sex with you when the kids were gone. “Is it your back, honey?” You asked somewhat perplexed. “If it is, I can be on top and do all the work for you if you want. I don't mind, really.” You said, trying to reason with Joel to let you touch him more. When he didn't respond you reached forward and palmed him, feeling him only half hard.

“Please stop.” Joel said in a stern voice, grabbing your hand and gently removing it. “I- uh, I can't- fuck- we can’t, ok.” He said, voice shaking as he slowly backed away from you, running a hand down his face. He was disgusted with himself and the fact that he couldn’t give his wife the proper attention that she deserved.

You stood there bewildered, unable to make sense of what was happening. Did Joel Miller just turn down sex? In all the years you two have been having sex together, he has never once stopped sex from progressing. You were racking your brain, trying to figure out why all of a sudden he’d stop you. And the only solution that you could think of was that maybe you weren’t the only person he was seeing like this. Maybe he, just like your father, had found a new favorite toy on the sideline. You looked at your husband with mortified eyes, fighting with the firm possibility that maybe he was no different than your dad; a lying, cheating, bastard. “Wow mom, I guess you were right, all men do fucking cheat.”

Joel snapped his head up in your direction at your statement. What did you mean that all men cheat? What the hell were you even talking about?

As you started to walk past Joel he grabbed your arm and said, “what the fuck do you mean all men cheat?”

“Joel, please” you said, struggling to keep your voice even.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and grabbing both of your arms, slightly shaking you in his grasp. “You think I’m cheatin’ on you, is that it? That I’m fucking another woman. Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he growled.

“Joel, please don’t do this. I-I-”

Joel saw your eyes in that moment, saw that you thought he was fucking someone else. That wasn't the case. He didn't want to admit his problem, but goddamn it, he wasn’t going to have you think that he was no different than your father. Joel had no idea all those years that his best friend, your father, was using him as a goddamn babysitter so that piece of shit could go out and ball half of Austin as your mother recovered from her cancer treatments before she died of cancer. No. Joel wasn’t a piece of shit like that, and goddamn, it killed him to have his wife think so low of him.

“Baby, ya gotta believe me. I ain’t fucking around on you, ok? Please sugar, ya gotta believe me. I’d never do that.” He said, clenching his jaw, battling with the anger and rage that was rising up inside of his mind. He didn’t want to explode at you over this. He wasn’t mad at you, he was disgusted with himself of why he wasn’t honest with you when all of this shit started for him.

Joel’s problem of not getting or being able to sustain an erection didn’t happen right away. It was a slow process. At first he thought that maybe it was because things in the bedroom had gotten a little stale. But when Joel struggled to keep an erection even when he was alone, he knew that something was wrong. He didn’t want you to worry, so he didn’t say anything to you. After a lot of embarrassing situations at home, and with himself, he decided that he needed to bring it up to his doctor. After a few tests, his doctor had diagnosed him with erectile dysfunction, and then had given him a prescription of Viagra to try. At first Joel was nervous about taking them, wondered if he’d feel different. But once he did, holy shit, it felt amazing. Those little blue pills were like a magic drug. He could last longer and was harder than he’d been in years. When he noticed your increase in sex drive because of it, he felt like he won the lottery, especially when he could give you two orgasms with just his dick alone.

But slowly, his secret was getting harder and harder to keep from you. He quickly realized that those pills took anywhere between 15 to 60 minutes before they started working, which created a problem when you were trying to be spontaneous with him in the bedroom. At first he played it off at being tired, needing to rest for a little bit. Sometimes he’d also tell you that he needed to take a shower first, to freshen up for you. But when you’d wake him up on a Sunday morning, rested and freshly showered the night before, he struggled keeping his secret. He started using blindfolds in the bedroom when the two of you would have sex, so he could hide the fact that he had to take a pill quick. Sometimes when he waited for it to work, he’d give you oral sex and edge you. On days when he couldn’t do that, he’d just lie and tell you that he had a really bad headache and he couldn’t have sex right now.

He hated lying to you. He always wanted to tell you the truth, but every time he got the nerve to tell you something would happen or it just wasn’t the right time. If he was being honest, he didn’t tell you because he felt embarrassed and ashamed at the situation.

As you took another step to go around him, he yelled out “I got erectile dysfunction, ok. And as much as I'd love to fuck ya right now, my dick won't- fuck- it doesn’t get hard like it used to and I ran out of my prescription pills. I ain’t cheatin’, I never have, and I’ve never wanted to. You got to believe me. I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been honest. But baby, I can’t do it anymore with you like we used to.” He said, voice cracking at the end. Joel covered his eyes for a moment with his hand, wiping the tears away.

“I want to fuck you so much right now, so much. But I can’t, ya hear me. It ain’t a different reason, baby. My body, it just won’t let me do it anymore. It won’t let me be the man that I’m supposed to be for you.”

You stood there shocked at his admittance. When you went to open your mouth to console him, Joel quickly cut you off by saying, “I don't need your pity right now. I know I can't perform up to my wife's satisfaction anymore without help. And before you ask, no, I can’t take a pill right now. I have to wait until my doctor is back from vacation in six weeks. And I get it, you can’t wait that long and-”

“Joel” you said, gently cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Honey, I'm so sorry that this has happened.” He scowled at you with your reply, shaking his head and trying to step away. “Baby, please let me finish,” you said, forcing him to stay near you.

After taking a big breath you said, “I wish you would have told me about this when it happened instead of hiding it. Can you get an erection at all or?”

“Sometimes I can,” he said with a sigh, “but it ain't anything to write home about.” Joel let out a long exacerbated sigh. “Fuck, I can't fuck my wife when it's only half hard like this ok, and I’d appreciate it if you didn't think less of me for it and-”

“Joel Allen Miller,” you said in a commanding tone. “I would never think less of you for this. Baby, I love you, and everything about you. Yeah it does cause a little bit of an adjustment for us, but honey, I don’t care. You’re my husband and you should never feel like you can’t tell me something like this, ok?” You then gently cupped your husband with your hand, slowly palming him, feeling him slightly stiffen.

“Baby I-” Joel said, straining, trying to stay level with his voice and not break down with his words again. He didn't feel like a worthy man right now, and he was so embarrassed to feel or admit it.

“Please, Joel” you softly spoke, “let me try baby, please?”

“Darlin', it ain't gonna-”

“It doesn't have to get fully hard. Just please, please let your wife show her husband how fucking sexy he is, even with this little problem.”

“It ain't a little problem darlin’.” He said, slowly leaning his hips into your touch. He desperately wanted to feel his wife, to be inside her, to fuck her and hear her moan his name.

“I know it ain’t a little problem honey,” you whispered, gently nipping Joel’s neck. You slowly started to unfasten his belt and unzipped his pants, lowering them with his boxers down to the floor. You encouraged him to step out of them, trying to get him as comfortable as possible. As you stood up, you slowly licked your hand, and then gently wrapped it around his half hardened cock, slowly stroking him the way he liked. You were also nipping, kissing, and lightly sucking on his neck, on the places that you knew drove your husband wild. As you continued, you whispered loving messages to him, things that you hoped would remind Joel of how much you loved him.

“You are so sexy baby, and so big and strong. I feel so safe with you. I've missed you so much. I missed hearing you snore,” Joel let out a little grunt at that statement. “I've missed hearing you play your guitar, humming in the morning while you make your coffee. I've missed kissing you goodnight, and waking up next to you in the morning with you holding me.”

Joel leaned forward more, pushing your back against the wall as he tapped one of your legs to open wider for him. He quickly placed his hand down your sleep shorts and started playing with your clit as you talked.

“I-ah-I also missed your, your-”

“You missed my what darlin'?” He growled, thrusting his hips into your hand as he started moving two of his large fingers in and out of your wet, throbbing core.

“Shit Joel, I'm-”

“Did ya miss this baby? Did ya miss your husband's fat fingers fucking you dumb?” He said, nipping at your sensitive spot on your shoulder.

“Mmhmm” you said, tightening your grip around his half hardened cock. Joel wasn't lying, he really did have erectile dysfunction. But at this moment, you didn't care. Your husband was curling those fingers perfectly inside of you, to where you were almost seeing stars while he continued to snap his hips back and forth hard, helping you stroke him the way he liked.

Even though he wasn't buried deep inside of you. Something about the lewd noises the two of you were making, in combination with not being able to see your husband for the past two weeks, was rapidly propelling you towards the edge with your orgasm.

Joel could feel your breaths becoming more erratic, and could feel your walls tightening around his fingers. He was also getting closer to finishing himself. Your hand was the perfect tight fit around his cock. He kept rocking his hips back and forth, fucking your hand, feeling himself leak precum everywhere. He wanted to bury himself so badly inside of you, but he knew that he couldn't. Just as he started to feel self conscious again about the situation, your filthy mouth forced him to stay in the moment.

“God, baby, I fucked myself so hard with my fingers when you were gone. But nothing ever felt as good as yours do right now. Fuck, next time I want to fuck myself with my fingers, I'm just gonna use yours-oh fuck.”

“Oh, you dirty fucking girl. Shit- You were fucking those- yeah baby- those small little fingers inside of you pretending- fuck- pretending that they were mine, huh?” He said, speeding up his thrusts with his hips and with his fingers.

“Yes Joel, fuck, don’t stop baby, please don’t-”

“I won’t stop, not until you gush around me.”

The two of you continued to pleasure each other, bringing each other towards the edge, but neither one tipping over just yet. “Joel, I need more, baby. P-please, give me more,” you moaned. You were desperately snapping your hips back and forth, wishing it was your husband’s cock that was inside of you.

“Aw baby, look at you, riding my fingers like the dirty little girl that y’are.”

“Joel, baby, please-”

“Say it,” Joel growled, “say I'm the only one who makes you feel this good.”

“You are Joel, you are.”

“Say I'm the only one who gets to fuck this tight little pussy whenever I want.”

“Fuck- You do Joel, you do. It's yours, she's all yours.”

“She's all mine, huh?” Joel said, feeling your walls put his fingers in a choke hold with how tight you were squeezing him. “If she's all mine, then do it. Fucking come for me. Show me who's pussy this really belongs to. Ya heard me, I said come, now,” Joel growled. That coil that had wound itself so tight in your belly snapped hard at Joel’s command. You screamed your husband's name as you coated his fingers with your juices. Joel tightened his grip around your hand that was stroking him, while continuing to work you through your orgasm. After a few more hard thrusts himself, he came all over your hand.

You both slowly came down from your highs, and you couldn't help but giggle at the acts that the two of you just did. It brought back memories of when Joel and you dated. As Joel’s giggles eased he slowly ran his hand that was coated with your juices through your hair.

“Hey you,” he said, smiling fondly down at you. God he loved you so much, in every way possible. You were his soulmate, his better half.

“Wow, where the heck did that come from?” You said, giggling to yourself again. When you looked up you saw how Joel was looking at you, like he could see your soul.

“I love you so much, you know that right?” He said, slowly running his nose along your jaw.

“I know,” you said, sighing at his affection.

He then grabbed your hair hard in the back of your head, pulling down slightly to force you to look up at him. It didn't hurt, just surprised you a bit, which forced you to listen to the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Then never, ever, hint at the possibility of me wanting to fuck another woman again, ok. Baby, you are the only one for me. I ain't your father, and I sure as fuck ain't my ex-wife.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of Joel's ex-wife, he never told you the in-depth story of what happened, just the highlights that they drifted apart. “Joel, I-”

“No, sweetheart, I ain't talkin’ about her. What's done is done. Just, don't ever say that to me again, hinting that I'd cheat on you. Cause baby, I'd never, haven't ever, won't-”

“Ok Joel, I promise. No more fussin’.” You gently kissed your husband, giving him the slow intimate affection he was just giving you. After a few more passionate and tender kisses, Joel sighed and rested his head against your forehead, while rubbing his nose slowly against your nose.

“I reckon we both need a shower,” he said after a moment, exhaling and laughing slightly to himself. “Come on, I'll get the shower started.”

When Joel got to the bathroom doorway you said, “wait a sec,” and then walked up to him as he turned around to look at you.

“Next time, please tell me this stuff ok? No more secrets.” He nodded his head in understanding as you leaned up and placed another tender kiss to his lips. When you pulled back you added, “good, cause I hate to break it to you. You’re officially now an old man.” Then with another small peck to his cheek, you sauntered off into the bathroom, giggling at the nickname that you gave him back when he was in his thirties. After starting the shower and getting in, you yelled back “are you coming old man, or do I need to help you with your wheelchair?”

“No wiseass, ya don't,” he yelled, looking up at the ceiling and shaking his head at your smartass remark.

When he looked down he saw himself in the mirror once again. Yes, he did have gray in his beard, in his hair, and on his chest. He also could see that he wasn’t as physically fit as he once was in his 30s, but he still looked good. He needed glasses to read most of the time now, and you and Sarah constantly harassed him about it. But that was ok. He liked it, and he loved you both dearly. He also creaked worse than the old board on the stairs, along with feeling his age every time he tried to do something that he knew he shouldn't.

Sure, he had to take medication for his high blood pressure and high cholesterol. And now he got to add a little blue pill to the regimen, just so he could have sex with his wife. He was also at that age where he needed a colonoscopy done, something that was scheduled next week for him.

With all of these things going on, Joel did have to admit that he was older than when he first started dating you. But even with this admission, he knew from the moments before that he’s never made you come so hard in your life from just his fingers alone. So you could say getting old did have its advantages.

With a small smirk on his face, and a slight puff to his chest, Joel quickly entered the shower with you. When you turned around he said, “old my ass. I'll show you who's old, ya little shit.” Joel then dropped down to his knees and ate you out like a starved man. After he gave you another two orgasms, one of which he heard you screaming his name off the shower walls. He eventually found himself lying next to you, cuddling you in the bed. You were exhausted from all of your extracurricular activities the past two days, and were curled up and ready for a nap. After catching your breath, Joel slowly whispered in your ear, “who's old now darlin’?”

Before you could answer, Joel made his way down back your body and gave you one more Earth shattering orgasm. He wanted to prove a point. That he, in fact, wasn't too damn old.

End Story

#thank you #so glad you liked it

449 notes · View notes

starry-eyes-love · 16 days

Text

OMG, this...this was amazing. I love the movie Twister and this was an amazing recreation, but yet still original, story. Love the names of the machines and the people who play the characters. Tommy does fill the role of Dusty I think perfectly here.

the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun

pairing: storm chaser!joel miller x storm chaser!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.5k

summary:

Storm chaser-turned-weatherman Joel Miller hunts down his old crew in an effort to serve his wife with divorce papers. When a storm interrupts his efforts, he finds himself falling back into old routines and old feelings.

A Twister (1996) AU

author’s note: are you someone, like me, who was fucking obsessed with the movie twister and at one point made it your entire personality (maybe even at too young of an age)? then this fic is for you! this may be one of my favorite fics ever and i hope you enjoy it, too. please consider reblogging or commenting or even dropping into my ask box if you like the fic, i would love to hear from you!

amazing title art by @atinylittlepain

tags/warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ only, minors do not interact), explicit language, undefined age gap, able bodied reader (actions include running, lifting, climbing), no reader physical characteristic descriptions, dual pov, established relationship, estranged marriage, mentions of divorce, alternate universe - movie: twister (1996), not a direct rewrite of the movie but pretty close, storm chaser!joel, storm chaser!reader, natural disaster action scenes, mild angst, mention of reader’s parent’s deaths, praise, dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cum eating, minor character death.

masterlists: all characters | joel miller

support for palestine

The first person to notice Joel’s truck pulling up to the makeshift weather station site is his brother, Tommy.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” He says, hands on his hips. Joel gets out of his truck and Tommy envelops him in a strong hug. “Had no idea you were comin’ out here.”

“I didn’t plan on it,” Joel admits. He waves the envelope in his hand. “But I can’t get her to sign ‘em unless I track her down myself.”

The expression on Tommy’s face drops and he nods, clearing his throat. “She’s around here somewhere.”

“Probably hiding from you,” another voice chimes. Tommy’s wife, Maria, jumps from the back of a nearby pick up truck where she had been fixing a satellite. “Welcome back, Joel.”

“I ain’t back,” he grumbles, giving her a quick hug. “How’re you, Maria?”

“Sweaty,” she replies. “Heard you got yourself a nice channel gig. Must explain the suit.”

Joel looks down at his outfit of tan slacks and a matching suit jacket over a white button up shirt. He tries to think of a response, but another familiar voice calls out his name.

“The prodigal son returns!” Tess shouts. Her short hair has grown out since the last time he’s seen her, but the ever present camera around her neck remains the same.

He notices movement from the back of one of the vans. You emerge, wiping your hands on a grease stained rag and for a brief moment, a bolt of longing courses through him like a lightning strike.

“Joel,” you say, a smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Wasn’t expecting you out here.”

“You won’t answer any of my calls,” he replies. A tense silence falls over the group until Maria nudges Tommy in the ribs and drags him off while Tess mumbles an excuse about checking the radio and escapes in the other direction. “Have you looked at the papers?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t signed them?”

“Been a bit busy,” you say, gesturing to the camp. “I got something you’ll want to see.”

You brush past him and Joel sighs, rubbing a hand across his face in exasperation before turning to follow you to one of the trucks. You pull yourself up into the bed and stand beside a large metal container.

“She’s here, Joel,” you say proudly, hitting one of the buttons. The lid on the unit pops open. “ELLIE.”

“No shit?” Joel asks, climbing onto the truck for a closer look. He picks up one of the spherical sensors, holding it up for inspection. “I’ll be damned. You really did it.”

“We did it,” you respond quietly. The expression on your face is painfully familiar, that combination of pride and sadness that he’s grown accustomed to in the last few years. He murmurs your name, tries to think of something else to say, but a shout interrupts his efforts.

“We’ve got action!” Tess yells.

The camp explodes into a flurry of movement. Equipment is packed away with speed and efficiency while anything else that isn’t fragile is tossed into the nearest truck or van. Joel watches it all and remembers when he used to be part of this machine, calling out orders and getting on the radio for coordinates as he hit the gas and peeled out in a cloud of dirt and dust.

He’s so caught up in it all that he almost forgets why he was here, and when he remembers you still haven’t signed the papers he curses, running for his truck and taking off after you down the rural roads.

“You comin’ with, brother?” Tommy’s voice crackles over his truck radio.

“She didn’t sign!” Joel says back.

“Keep lying to yourself, Joel!” Maria calls back.

It’s a race against time and God, the storm clouds overhead dark and churning ominously. The air is filled with static, lightning striking in the distance. Joel can feel it all in his veins, the adrenaline thick as he keeps speed with the rest of his former crew. The honk of a horn draws his eyes to the rearview mirror, where a gleaming black Surburban is gaining speed on him.

“Son of a bitch,” he snaps. He grabs the radio. “We got company!”

The Surbuban pulls up beside him, a woman in the passenger seat that refuses to look his way. Marlene, once a lab mate of yours and Joel’s in the early days of your career, is now the face of FEDRA’s corporate sponsorship. Sold out for shiny toys, Joel once said.

“What’s Marlene doin’ here?” Joel asks.

“Bet she’s wondering the same thing about you!” You chime in.

The convoy of uniformed vehicles speeds past him, the old trucks his crew still uses no match for them. In his distraction, he narrowly misses a fallen tree limb, careening off the dirt road with a loud bang.

“Fuck!” He shouts. His tire has gone flat.

This is the last thing he needs.

You watch Joel through the window of the little diner you’ve all made a stop at once the storm broke up on the radar as you had been driving to catch it. He’s across the street at the mechanic to get a new tire, having driven in on the spare that Tommy circled back to help him put on. You twist the plain gold band on your finger, lost in thought.

“Hey,” Tess says, sliding onto the stool beside you. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” you reply quickly. Her keen gaze makes you fold. “Weird. It feels weird.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s in a suit.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“He looks good.”

“Sure, if you like ‘em with a stick up their—“

“What’s channel four doing here?” You ask, cutting her insult off. The news crew is unloading their gear from their van as the anchor speaks to Marlene, who’s gesturing to a piece of equipment that looks suspiciously similar to the culmination of your life’s work sitting in the bed of your truck. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you snap, racing for the door.

“This is ABBY, the first unit of its kind. It’s built to give us a look inside of the funnel, allowing more precise storm prediction that could mean a world of difference for preparation and survival,” Marlene says proudly. “Inside are hundreds of sensors that, once deployed, will spiral inside of the tornado and report back real-time, accurate measurements.”

“Hey!” Joel barks, coming up to the scene from the opposite direction. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“Cut!” The anchor yells as Joel crowds in close to Marlene.

“You really think you can get away with rippin’ off our idea?” Joel snaps.

“I only took your idea and made it a reality,” Marlene responds, holding her hands up placatingly. “Face it, Joel. Your team doesn’t have the same resources to get this idea off the ground. Literally.” She laughs. “Besides, what are you doing here? I thought you retired.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. ELLIE isn’t just a dream anymore. We’ve got her here.”

Marlene’s smile falters. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Joel says. “And she’s going to be the first in the air.”

“We’ll see about that, Joel.” She steps back, addressing her crew. “Pack it up. Let’s hit the road.”

You stand there together watching as they pull out of the parking lot and back onto the two lane highway. When they’ve disappeared from sight, you give Joel’s shoulder a tentative pat.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you tell him. “Hopefully you’re right.”

The look he gives you is serious, a furrow between his brow that you used to smooth with your thumb, back before things fell apart. You smile at the memory. The tension eases from his shoulders and his lips curl up the slightest bit, as if in response.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Tommy says, breaking your attention from his brother. “But we got another development on the radar.”

“Alright, let’s get her,” you reply, breaking away from them to get to your truck. Joel is still standing there when you chance a look over your shoulder. “You just gonna stand there, or are you coming?”

“You still haven’t signed the papers!” He shouts back.

“I can sign them in the truck!”

He curses but jogs after you, coming up behind you and beating you to the driver’s door. “I’m drivin’,” he says.

“No,” you argue. “This is my truck.”

“You think I forgot how to drive this thing?”

“I think you’re out of practice!”

“You’re wastin’ time, just get in the fuckin’ truck,” he snaps. You roll your eyes and do as he says.

Some things never really change.

“You have to get ahead of it!” You shout. Hail pelts the roof of the truck and bounces off the windshield as Joel drives down the dirt road. Wind whips through the trees and lightning flashes in the fields while the clouds churn and peak at threatening speed.

“I know!” He shouts back, both hands tight on the wheel. “I can’t fuckin’ see anythin’!”

“Just cut across the field!”

“I can get us further ahead on the road!”

“We’re going to get stuck alongside it!”

“Do you want to drive?!”

“I’d love to!”

Joel huffs, accelerating faster. The clouds gather more tightly, stretching from the sky towards the earth. He glances out of his window and catches a glimpse of the storm, his heart pounding as he watches the funnel organize. He watches it for a moment before slamming on the breaks, the truck fishtailing as it comes to a screeching halt.

“What are you doing?!”

Marlene’s team speeds by with angry honks of their horns, but Joel’s attention remains fixed on the tornado. “It’s goin’ to shift its path.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, squinting.

“Look at it, it’s a sidewinder. It’s headin’ left,” he confirms. He throws the truck in reverse, speeding back towards the road they passed. The rest of the team has caught up and follows them down the one lane road.

“There it goes!” You shout, smacking the dashboard in your excitement. You grab the radio. “Alright, tell us what you’ve got, Maria.”

“F2, shifting south. Repeat, shifting south. This thing is unstable,” she says, voice crackling over the speaker. “You guys have a shot but you’re going to be cutting it real close.”

You look at Joel, and he sees that spark in your eyes, the determination he’s always admired, even loved, and he knows he can’t say no. Not to you.

“Let’s get it.”

“We’re running out of time,” you tell him, binoculars held up to your eyes. “We’re not going to make it.”

“We will,” he insists. Joel brakes after another half of a mile and you’re out of the cab before the truck even comes to a complete stop.

The rain immediately drenches you, soaking through your clothes and wrapping you in an icy chill. You’re removing the tethers that hold ELLIE securely to the truck bed and turning the unit on when Joel joins you.

“We have to get it on the ground!” You shout, barely audible over the wind. One of the tethers is stuck, strap not coming loose from the buckle no matter how hard you pull. Joel jumps into the bed and tries to help but with the rain and wind, both of your hands keep slipping.

Joel looks up, eyes going wide. His hand wraps around your bicep, pulling. “We have to get out of here!”

“But ELLIE—“

“Now!” He shouts.

A sound similar to a freight train reaches your ears and panic courses through your veins. Joel pulls on your arm again and this time you follow, jumping from the truck and running as fast as you can. He reaches an arm back towards you, grabbing your hand and tugging you along. He veers to the left, the two of you sliding down a muddy embankment and landing in a ditch.

“Get up,” Joel urges, helping you to your feet. “We gotta get down over there by that bridge, come on!”

Together you trudge through the mud, wind picking up speed around you as the cyclone draws closer. You have your arm held up to shield your eyes from debris and your other hand in front of you, gripping Joel’s jacket tightly.

You make it beneath the cover of the bridge, a slight reprieve from the wind and rain. Joel squeezes his body tightly to yours, pressing you against the dirt and shielding you from the storm. You open your eyes, peering past his shoulder to where you can see the edge of the wide tornado base and the debris it kicks up in its wake.

Suddenly, the world grows quiet. The air goes still, the rain slows from a downpour to a shower. You can feel Joel’s chest heaving with breath against yours, cadence of it matching the pounding of your heart. He backs away slowly and lifts his hands, gently cupping your face.

“You okay?” Joel breathes, eyes searching. You wrap your hands around his wrists and nod. His thumb strokes across your cheekbone, slowly, before he releases your face. “Good. That’s…good.”

“Hey! You’re alive!” You both look up to find Tess at the top of the embankment, hands on her hips. “Tommy owes me twenty bucks!”

“He should know better than to bet against me,” Joel says. His attention returns to you. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Back at street level, you assess the damage. Your truck has been flipped, the ELLIE unit dented but still intact. More notably, the sensors didn’t deploy.

“Fuck,” you curse. “All of that and it didn’t even open.”

“There’s always next time,” Tess assures you.

“You know…we could all use a shower….and a meal,” Tommy says. You shoot him a look.

“No.”

“Come on,” he needles. “You’re covered in mud. We’ll need to get your truck towed somewhere for repairs.”

“I said no.”

“We haven’t had anything but shitty diner food and granola bars for four days,” Maria adds.

“You must really want a hot a meal if you’re willing to face Uncle Bill.”

“That a yes?” Tommy asks. Everyone watches you expectantly.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Joel rides in the van with Tommy and Maria while you go with Tess in her truck. It doesn’t take long to reach the familiar ranch style home that sits on four acres of farmland, complete with a barn that’s become more for show than for function in your Uncle Bill’s older age.

When the van pulls up to the house, Bill’s husband, Frank, is outside on the porch, sitting in a rocking chair with a drink in hand. He waves as Tommy honks to announce their arrival.

The front door opens, Bill’s large frame filling the doorway. His beard has grown since the last time Joel saw him, and it seems as though his ever present frown has too. Joel watches you run up the porch steps and wrap your arms around both men, though Bill is quick to shove you off when he sees the state you’re in. Despite the reaction, Joel can see the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Joel stays towards the back of the group as they approach. He won’t go so far as to say he’s hiding, but it’s a near thing. Handshakes and hugs are exchanged right up until Bill catches sight of him.

“Joel,” he says, crossing his arms.

“Uncle Bill,” Joel replies.

“Just Bill is fine.”

Joel clears his throat, avoiding the man’s gaze. you appear behind him, breaking the tension.

“I’m going to take a shower and then I can help you with dinner,” you tell Bill.

“Who said I was feeding you?”

“Frank did.”

“Sorry, honey!” Frank yells from the kitchen.

Joel escapes Bill’s attention with your distraction, darting into the kitchen to join the others. He helps Frank peel and dice potatoes while Maria and Tess make biscuits and Tommy helps Bill grill up a towering plate of steaks and burgers. Despite his outward show of annoyance, your Uncle Bill is a good guy who always takes care of the crew when they come rolling into his driveway, half starved and exhausted.

“Didn’t expect to see you back,” Frank comments, tone light.

“Didn’t expect to be back,” Joel replies.

“What brings you here, then?”

“Got tired of waitin’ on her to sign the divorce papers.”

Frank hums in response and Joel braces himself for a speech but a minute passes in silence. Then two minutes. Frank sets his potato peeler down and leans his hip against the counter, facing Joel.

“It’s a real shame,” he says, shaking his head and staring out the window to where Bill and Tommy are laughing together. “You two were really good together.”

Joel doesn’t reply, because what is there to say? Frank is right. You and Joel were good together. Where Joel was hotheaded, you were calm. Where Joel took things too seriously, you were more carefree. But perhaps the greatest difference between you two was where Joel let fear stop him in his tracks, you let it drive you.

It’s what started the arguments in the first place. He started feeling like he was getting too old, too worn out for chasing storms. He wasn’t as sharp as he used to be, not as quick, and it was starting to hang heavy over his head. Thoughts of retirement came to him more frequently and each time he brought it up, it would ignite an argument until he just didn’t have it in him to fight anymore. It was just easier to walk away.

“Shower’s free,” you announce as you enter the kitchen, no longer caked in mud.

“My turn,” Joel says. Frank gives him a sideways glance but doesn’t say anything about his silence and swift exit.

Dinner is ready when he's finished with his shower and he takes a seat in the open chair beside you. The whole scene, the normalcy of it, makes Joel feel like a ship returning to port after rough seas. He missed this -- the inside jokes, the playful ribbing, Bill's annoyed huffs and Frank's wide eyed stare as he listens to you recount the events of the day. You even pat his knee when you notice his leg bouncing beneath the table, like the gesture is second nature, even though you haven't done it in the two years since he's left.

He helps with the dishes after everyone has finished eating and puts away what little leftovers remain. Tommy and Maria decide to go to bed in one of the guest rooms while Tess remains in the living room, watching a rerun of Jeopardy with Frank. Joel notices that you're nowhere to be found, but he has a feeling he knows exactly where you've gone.

He leaves the house through the back door, heading through the field towards the barn. The sun is setting, casting everything in an orange glow as the sky begins to turn shades of purple instead of blue. The old wooden doors creak as he pries them open and steps inside the building, the smell of hay hitting him in the face like a wall.

There's a loft, accessible by a ladder, that he knows you've made your own. It's been your escape ever since you were a kid, when you came to live with your Uncle Bill after a storm that destroyed your home and ripped your parents from you. He climbs up to the loft, hoisting himself onto the platform.

You're sitting on the wood floor, a quilt from the house spread out beneath you. You’ve brought a lamp up with you, warm light beating back the rapidly oncoming darkness. You look up when he stands.

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer. He kneels onto the quilt with you.

“Hey.”

You shift your weight until you’re lying on your back and Joel does the same beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. You’re both quiet for a long moment, sounds from the field drifting in through the cracks in the wood.

“When will it be enough?” Joel finally asks. You sigh.

“Not this again,” you complain.

“What is it about retirement that scares you so damn much?”

“Retirement doesn’t scare me. I could take the easy way out, too. I could make a pretty little weather woman for some local news channel, but that’s not what I want. It’s never been what I want.” You take a deep breath. “So stop acting surprised that I won’t change for you or anyone else, for that matter. And if that’s something that you can’t love about me—“

“It ain’t about not lovin’ you. I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you,” he interrupts, lifting himself so that he can look at your face. Your eyes are glassy, streaks of wetness stretching from the corners to your temple. “But I can’t ever be enough for you.”

Your expression changes, shifting from sadness to surprise to anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m gettin’ older, I’m not as good at this gig as I used to be.”

“That’s why you left? Because you think you’re…what? Holding us back?”

“Wasn’t I?”

“No! You big fucking idiot,” you snap. “I can’t believe this.” You sit up, shoving his shoulder and knocking him onto his back. You throw your leg over him, settling over his lap. His hands settle on your thighs, a reflex that hasn’t faded. Your expression is stern as you stare down at him. “You will always have a place with us. With me.”

Joel lets your words sink in, the light of them illuminating the dark parts of his mind that had convinced him you were better off without him. He slides a hand up your belly, over your chest, curling it around the back of your neck and urging you forward.

You come to him easily, your lips finding his.

It feels like coming home.

Joel’s mouth is eager as he kisses you, devours you, hands hot on your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. You missed this, the feeling of being consumed by him, from your body and down to your soul.

He rolls the two of you over, easing you down onto your back and hovering over you. You gaze up at him, noting the deeper creases by his eyes and the grey that has started to become more prominent in his hair and the only thought that comes to you is how beautiful he is.

Joel leaves wet kisses on your neck in three spots — just below your ear, right over your pulse, and just above your clavicle, a pattern he established years ago. The warm air chills the spots he’s left behind as he moves lower, down your chest, pushing up your shirt to give the same attention to your belly. It makes your stomach flip, the way he peeks up at you with dark eyes when he reaches the waist of your jeans.

Instead of moving lower, his focus returns to your breasts. He moves the cups of your bra down to reveal your tight nipples, warm tongue circling each bud in turn. You squirm beneath his weight, cry out when his teeth scrape the sensitive skin. You can feel the smile that graces his lips.

“Still so sensitive,” he says. You gently whack his head in retaliation. “Quit it. Be a good girl or you won’t get your reward.”

“Yes, sir,” you murmur.

“That’s it, knew you could be good for me.” He squeezes your breast in one large hand. “Just needed the right motivation.”

He sits back on his heels and makes quick work of unbuttoning your pants, tugging the zipper down before curling his fingers into the waistband and dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear. Barrier discarded, he settles on his belly between your thighs, face close enough to your core that you can feel the quick brush of his breath on your needy cunt. You wiggle your hips, hoping to spur him into action, but a strong arm holds you still and you let out a low whine.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” Joel asks, fingers lightly tracing your skin. “Somethin’ you want? Somethin’ you need?”

“You,” you mumble.

“Louder.”

“You, Joel.”

He kisses your inner thigh, stubble scratching the sensitive skin and making you shiver. Your breath catches in anticipation as he draws nearer to your heat.

The first swipe of his tongue through your folds is like a bolt of lightning to your system, every nerve ending lighting up and your blood coursing hot in your veins. He starts off slow, just the way you like it, broad circles over your clit until you’re squirming in his hold. Then he dips lower, thrusting the tip of his tongue inside of you while his nose continues to nudge your aching clit.

He brings you to the very edge of release before backing off, just enough that you don’t tip over before he’s ready for you to. It drives you crazy, has you cursing his name and begging for him in equal measure, but he’s nothing if not stubborn, generous yet greedy.

“Joel,” you cry, his name a plea. “Are you going to let me come?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he says. His chin is shiny with with spit and slick when he looks up, eyes a little wild and hair messy from your fingers. “But not yet.”

“Fuck!” You snap, head dropping to the wood floor with a thud as he presses two thick fingers inside of you, curling them with each drag from your body. His mouth rejoins the effort, lips wrapping around your clit. It’s too much and so good, that wave of pleasure finally coursing through you as you shatter from his ministrations.

He works you through it, tongue gentle and fingers stilling inside of you, your cunt pulsing around them. When your muscles finally relax, he sits up, holding his hand up to your face and pressing his fingers to your lips. You open your mouth obediently, the earthy taste of your release exploding across your taste buds as you lick the digits clean.

“Missed this,” Joel murmurs, watching you intently. “Missed you.”

“Missed you,” you reply. You reach your hand up, running it down his chest until you’re cupping the prominent bulge in his jeans. “Missed this, too.”

He laughs, shoulders shaking with the force of it. It pulls a smile from you, your beautiful man so carefree, no sign of that troubled wrinkle between his brows and his cheeks flushed with life, the same way they are when he’s coming down from the adrenaline of a chase. He unbuttons his jeans, shimmies the denim down just enough to free his cock.

Joel grips himself at the base, flushed head peeking from his fist. He teases your entrance, slipping his length through your wetness and bumping your still sensitive clit. Your back arches and a moan escapes your lips, one that Joel echoes himself as he slowly, slowly, slowly pushes inside of your tight heat.

“Joel,” you whisper, fingers curling tight into the quilt beneath you. “Joel.”

“I know,” he says. “God, I know.”

When his hips are flush with yours, he leans forward, elbows on either side of your head propping himself up. His cock fills you so perfectly, the stretch almost too much to bear as he starts to move. Each purposeful thrust has you seeing stars, has you gasping and moaning his name. He silences you with his lips, so messy and uncoordinated it can hardly be called a kiss. You clench around him, desperate to keep him inside of you with each drag from your body.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” Joel groans. “Can you come for me, baby? One more time?”

“Mhm,” you hum. He picks up the pace, quick strokes that hit your g-spot with impressive precision. You feel the knot of your release grow tighter, tighter, until it finally unravels, every nerve ending lighting up like you’ve been struck by lightning. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he presses deep, cock twitching and spilling inside of you.

Joel presses his forehead to yours as you both catch your breath, sweat cooling on your skin as minutes pass. When he lifts his head and stares down at you, it’s with a smile on his face.

“That was—“

“Yeah,” you agree. “See? You still got it, old man.”

“Nevermind, I still want a divorce.”

You laugh, loud and carefree. For the first time in years, you feel a sense of peace.

A sense of home.

The two of you get caught in an unexpected downpour as you leave the barn and Joel follows the sound of your laughter as you run through the field back to the main house. Inside, you press a kiss to Joel’s lips, water dripping to the floor beneath you. You’re smiling and he swears he’s never felt more alive, even when chasing the biggest storm.

When you break apart, you whisper that you’re going to take another shower and change. Joel tells you he’s going to clean up the mess to avoid Bill’s wrath. Another kiss, and another, until you finally break away and shut yourself in the bathroom down the hall. He stands there for a moment, lost in thought, until the sound of the shower running spurs him into motion and he goes to search for a towel to clean up the water that’s pooled in the hallway.

As he passes by the living room, heading for the linen closet, he notices the TV is on, the room illuminated in its flickering glow. He stops in the doorway and Frank looks up at him, a knowing smile on his face.

Joel smiles back.

For now, it’s their little secret.

The next day, Bill deems your truck operational. It has a fresh new set of dents and scratches, but it’ll otherwise drive despite the abuse. You spend some time inspecting the unit and determine the lid latch is a little too secure, which explains why the sensors couldn’t deploy. Joel helps you loosen the bolts, the simple task taking twice as long with how often he distracts you when your crew members aren’t looking. You replace the latch with another tether strap that can be quickly released on deployment.

When all is said and done, everyone takes turns saying goodbye to your uncles. Frank tells you to be safe and Bill tells you to not be stupid, which is essentially the same thing. You watch as Joel receives a handshake from Bill that’s a tad too firm, if the grimace on his face is anything to go by.

“Alright, let’s head out,” Maria says, eyes scanning a computer screen. “Radar’s got something forming about twenty miles north of here.”

“What kind of something?” You ask.

“A big something.”

Joel catches your eye and gives you a wink.

“Let’s go get ELLIE into the air.”

The sky ahead of you is pitch black, clouds churning ominously. There’s a certain liminality when you’re driving into a storm that never ceases to amaze you, the image in the rearview mirror bright with sunlight but a foreboding darkness ahead of you.

“You okay?” Joel asks, drawing your attention. His hand rests on your thigh, fingers tapping against your knee. “Not gettin’ cold feet, are you?”

“About this?” You nod towards the sky. “Never.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Guys? You won’t believe this,” Maria says over the radio. You grab the transmitter.

“What is it?” You ask.

“There’s two cells. Radar maxed out.”

“They’re funneling back,” Tess adds. “This isn’t looking good.”

“You saying we can’t do it?” You ask.

The radio is quiet for a moment before Tommy says, “If anyone can, it’s you two.”

“What are we up against?” Joel asks.

“Cell one is measuring at the cusp of a three, cell two is reaching four,” Maria continues.

“Joel.” You tap his arm. “Look.”

A funnel has formed ahead of you, still teetering in the air and not quite making contact with the ground. It’s only a few miles ahead and Joel hits the brakes as he takes it in.

“What’s the trajectory of this?” He asks.

“Northeast.”

It’s heading your way. You both scramble from the truck, climbing into the bed to prepare ELLIE — Joel removing the tethers while you turn the unity on. The wind picks up speed as you work, dust from the road whipping around you and making it difficult to see.

“Let’s get her down!” Joel shouts. He jumps to the ground and together you ease the equipment onto the ground, removing the lid tether. After what feels like ages, ELLIE is ready and you both return to the truck.

Joel turns the truck around and drives in the opposite direction of the cyclone’s path. He stops and you can hardly breath as you watch the storm tear across the landscape.

“This is it!” Tess shouts through the radio.

You grab Joel’s hand as the funnel nears ELLIE, the wind making the unit shift and sway. You swallow nervously.

“It’s too light,” you murmur.

“No it’s not,” Joel says confidently.

Closer and closer the funnel moves, but ELLIE doesn’t lift from the ground. You’re biting your lip so hard that the taste of copper blooms across your tongue.

“We’ve got a shift!” Maria says. “We’ve got a shift, due north. Due north.”

“Fuck!” Joel shouts, slamming a hand on the steering wheel.

“Guess who just showed up?” Tommy adds.

Far across the field, a familiar caravan of black vehicles speeds towards the cyclone.

“What channel are they using?” You ask. There’s a brief silence until Tess calls back, “Six. Why?”

You switch the channel. “Marlene, you have to anchor the unit.”

“I’m a little busy right now,” she calls back. “Trying to make history over here.”

“Listen to me. Unless you manage to position your unit right under a touchdown, it’s not going to get picked up. And if it doesn’t pick up, it doesn’t deploy.”

“Maybe that’s just an issue with your unit. I can assure you ABBY will succeed where ELLIE failed.”

“Goddamnit,” you snap, tossing the transmitter down.

“Can’t fix stupid,” Joel says. He hits the gas, bringing the truck back to ELLIE. “Let’s load her back up, maybe we can catch the second cell.”

Pack loaded once more, you return to the cab. Joel is about to put the park in drive when you place a hand over his chest.

“Do you see what I see?” You ask.

Joel watches the twister, then Marlene’s team. He grabs the radio.

“Marlene, listen to me. That monster is going to shift and if it does, you’re in the path of destruction and that base is too wide for you to get out of there. You have to hang back now.”

“Radar isn’t showing a shift. I’m not missing this chance,” Marlene replies.

“You gotta look at the funnel action, too. Not just the radar. You’re goin’ to get yourself killed!”

“Clear this channel, Joel. I’ve got work to do.”

“Fuck!” Joel snaps.

Sure enough, the cyclone shifts its path, a minute change with dire consequences for Marlene and her team. The twister barrels toward the caravan, vehicles lifting from the ground.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth.

“I know,” he says. His throat bobs around a pained swallow. “We did what we could.”

Joel switches the radio back to your team’s channel, a flurry of panicked voices filling the cab. Maria’s voice snaps your name.

“Do you read me? The second cell has organized, five miles east moving north along 80.”

“Copy that,” you say as Joel drives in her suggested direction. “What’s it looking like?”

“Too soon to tell but the cloud base is massive.”

Joel drives parallel to Maria’s path suggestion, racing to get ahead of the storm. The funnel begins to form, dropping down from the restless clouds. It’s one of the biggest you’ve seen, more of a column of wind than a tapered cyclone. The strength of it grows as it hits the warm air, touching down with a contact point as wide as the funnel base.

“Wind speed is measuring at an estimated 270 miles per hour. We’ve found ourselves an F5,,” Maria says. “She’s slow, but strong. Movement only measuring at ten miles per hour, still heading east.”

Joel changes direction, heading towards the storm from the back, rather than trying to get ahead of it.

“ELLIE needs an anchor,” you remind him.

“I know,” he says, looking over at you. “I’m giving her one.”

“We’re using the truck?”

“You got a better idea?”

“No, no, go ahead. Can’t wait to explain this one to insurance.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and take the radio one more time. “We’re sending the truck up with ELLIE. If this works, get ready for the best data in history.”

“Roger that,” Tess replies. “Ready for the feed.”

Another mile ahead, Joel gets the truck speed up to fifty miles per hour before setting the cruise control. He unbuckles his seat belt and you follow suit, throwing the passenger door open and holding onto the grab handle.

“One,” Joel shouts. “Two!”

“Three!” You finish, jumping from the cab. You hit the ground hard, rolling through your landing, the air punched from your lungs. When you’ve caught your breath, you get yourself on your hands and knees, frantically searching for Joel.

He’s kneeling in the road, watching as the truck continues to barrel towards the twister. You crawl to him and he pulls you close, an arm around your waist to hold you up beside him.

“Go, go, go!” He shouts.

The sound of brakes squealing has you looking back over your shoulder to see your team has arrived. They gather behind you, Tess snapping photos at rapid speeds, Tommy recording video, and Maria’s eyes glued to her computer. You look ahead, just in time to watch the truck disappear into the swirling mass of debris.

Everyone is silent for a long moment, waiting. Watching. Hoping.

“I’m getting a read!” Maria shouts. “She’s up! ELLIE is flying!”

“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Joel, we did it.”

“You did it, baby,” he says.

The twister doesn’t last long. Its power wanes, the cyclone breaking up and retreating back into the sky. You have no idea where your truck has landed, but you don’t care. You and Joel stand up, your legs shaky from the rush of adrenaline. He takes your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss.

“You owe me one hundred dollars, Tommy!” Tess shouts.

Joel pulls away with a laugh. “What did I tell you about bettin’ against me?”

“Does this mean you’re back?” Maria asks.

The arm around your waist tightens, pulling you closer.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I’m back.”

#joel miller #twister #reblog #joel really is bill #love this

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starry-eyes-love · 18 days

Text

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut.

No longer using tag lists, please make sure that your notifications are turned on for my page so you are notified when I post something new.

Top banner created by artist on Instagram: caimages_love

“Quit it,” he had huffed, giving you a dirty look in the mirror as he finished trimming his beard.

“Woah, what's that look for?” You asked, taking a few steps towards him to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. “Good morning. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

Joel huffed at you while rolling his eyes and mumbling, “yeah, well, I'm paying for it this morning now ain't I? M’back is fucking killing me.”

Oh, so that's why he was grumpy.

“Baby, we gotta slow down,” he said, nipping at your collarbone and then giving you a hot and messy kiss to your lips.

“Is this what my baby wants, huh? Does she want her husband to show her who’s boss? To show her how a real man fucks, hmm?

“Baby, fuck, we can't” he said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, breathing slow, trying to find a way out of this embarrassing situation.

Joel snapped his head up in your direction at your statement. What did you mean that all men cheat? What the hell were you even talking about?

As you started to walk past Joel he grabbed your arm and said, “what the fuck do you mean all men cheat?”

“Joel, please” you said, struggling to keep your voice even.

“Joel, please don’t do this. I-I-”

After taking a big breath you said, “I wish you would have told me about this when it happened instead of hiding it. Can you get an erection at all or?”

“Please, Joel” you softly spoke, “let me try baby, please?”

“Darlin', it ain't gonna-”

“It doesn't have to get fully hard. Just please, please let your wife show her husband how fucking sexy he is, even with this little problem.”

“It ain't a little problem darlin’.” He said, slowly leaning his hips into your touch. He desperately wanted to feel his wife, to be inside her, to fuck her and hear her moan his name.

“I-ah-I also missed your, your-”

“You missed my what darlin'?” He growled, thrusting his hips into your hand as he started moving two of his large fingers in and out of your wet, throbbing core.

“Shit Joel, I'm-”

“Did ya miss this baby? Did ya miss your husband's fat fingers fucking you dumb?” He said, nipping at your sensitive spot on your shoulder.

“Yes Joel, fuck, don’t stop baby, please don’t-”

“I won’t stop, not until you gush around me.”

“Aw baby, look at you, riding my fingers like the dirty little girl that y’are.”

“Joel, baby, please-”

“Say it,” Joel growled, “say I'm the only one who makes you feel this good.”

“You are Joel, you are.”

“Say I'm the only one who gets to fuck this tight little pussy whenever I want.”

“Fuck- You do Joel, you do. It's yours, she's all yours.”

“Hey you,” he said, smiling fondly down at you. God he loved you so much, in every way possible. You were his soulmate, his better half.

“Wow, where the heck did that come from?” You said, giggling to yourself again. When you looked up you saw how Joel was looking at you, like he could see your soul.

“I love you so much, you know that right?” He said, slowly running his nose along your jaw.

“I know,” you said, sighing at his affection.

“Then never, ever, hint at the possibility of me wanting to fuck another woman again, ok. Baby, you are the only one for me. I ain't your father, and I sure as fuck ain't my ex-wife.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of Joel's ex-wife, he never told you the in-depth story of what happened, just the highlights that they drifted apart. “Joel, I-”

“No, sweetheart, I ain't talkin’ about her. What's done is done. Just, don't ever say that to me again, hinting that I'd cheat on you. Cause baby, I'd never, haven't ever, won't-”

“I reckon we both need a shower,” he said after a moment, exhaling and laughing slightly to himself. “Come on, I'll get the shower started.”

When Joel got to the bathroom doorway you said, “wait a sec,” and then walked up to him as he turned around to look at you.

“No wiseass, ya don't,” he yelled, looking up at the ceiling and shaking his head at your smartass remark.

Before you could answer, Joel made his way down back your body and gave you one more Earth shattering orgasm. He wanted to prove a point. That he, in fact, wasn't too damn old.

End Story

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starry-eyes-love · 20 days

Text

Loving this series so far and the fact of people in longer term relationships exploring different avenues. Let's just say being married myself for almost 16 years, this is very accurate on a lot of fronts 🫣❤️

Little Dove - A Series

(Joel Miller x female!reader)

18+

Series Summary: After sending both your daughters off to college, you and Joel find yourself to be empty nesters in your early 40’s. However, all that alone time has it’s perks, most of which are kinky.

TW: reach each chapters for specific warnings. 18+

A/N: The love I received from the first story has sent my brain into high gear. I have zero timeline for these stories and they may not come out in the order listed below. The story summaries could change as I write. 🙏🏻 please let me know which you’re most excited for or if you want to be tagged 🙏🏻

🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍 •• 🤍🕊️🤍

You’re Mine, Little Dove

A walk at night starts with ropes, blindfolds, and ends with the best orgasms of your life, and an even better twist at the end.

Kink: Predator/Prey

Stay Still, Little Dove

Joel reminds you that his wishes are your commands during an interesting bet between you two.

Kink: Vibrator Torture, Pleasure Dom

Taste Her, Little Dove

Joel watches as you explore a new side of yourself.

You’re a Brat, Little Dove

At your 25-year high school reunion, an old classmates is enamoured with your partner; you can’t say that you blame her, but it sparks enough jealousy for you to decide to get Joel’s attention.

Kink: Brat Tamer, Spanking, Dom/Sub

Do Your Worst, Little Dove

Joel gets a taste of his own medicine.

Kink: Role reversal, domme/sub

You're Perfect, Little Dove

Insecurities from the past send you spiralling in a way that only Joel can fix.

Kink: Praise, Pleasure Dom

Touch Yourself, Little Dove

Joel discovers how much he likes to watch.

Kink: Voyeurism

Additional Materials

Thank You @survivingandenduring for this GORGEOUS edit of Joel and his Little Dove.

#reblog #marriage dynamics #joel miller fanfiction

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starry-eyes-love · 25 days

Text

So, so, so beautiful in every way. Written perfectly, especially with the insecurities felt by him. With reading this it felt like I was right there with him. A definite favorite 👏🏼💗

the feel of coldness only water brings

A/N: so this is the unplanned part two of this Joel drabble I wrote called wildflowers. I just woke up this morning to some lovely reblogs on it, thus inspiring this piece 🥺 oh, and I also thought of @beefrobeefcal and her beefy, fat! Joel fics that are so so good while I was writing this!

~word count: 1.6k~

Summary: you convince Joel to join you for a swim in a lake while on patrol despite his insecurities

Pairing | joel x f!reader

Warnings: implied smut, fluff, angst (so sorry) non specified age gap between Joel and the reader, body insecurities(Joel), self deprecating thoughts, real bodies, natural body changes with age etc, language, teasing, flirting, body appreciation/worship, peepaw!joel, grumpy!joel, sunshine reader, reader has no physical descriptions (outside of wearing a bra and panties) +18 minors dni!

Sweat beads and drips down from the base of his hairline and slowly seeps into the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric naturally. His steel toed boots stop at the water's edge, soft ripples lapping at the worn leather with a soft audible swish. The lake is crystalline, and beneath the glass surface he sees a million different rocks, all shapes and sizes and textures. The mountain air is crisp, refreshing as he inhales deeply.

The high noon sun blinds his vision momentarily, but he welcomes it. The fabric of his shirt is beginning to grow itchy, scratching at his skin from the beading perspiration. He kicks a stray rock into water, watching as it sinks into the shallow depths.

“Joel.” Your voice carries over the water, your head and shoulders bobbing like a cork in the middle of the glistening lake. “You said it yourself, there’s no infected out here, and the water is so refreshing. Won’t you join me?”

His shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his shirt, his jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He squints, bringing his hand over his forehead to block out the blinding rays, “M’fine here, darlin.’” He chuffs out, “Besides, one of us has to be on alert.” He added, rationalizing his decision.

“Is it because you can’t swim?” It was a safe assumption to make.

He shook his head, kicking another rock with the toe of his boot. “It ain’t that.”

“Okay, so you can swim? Well, then what’s the issue? C’mon, baby. You’re practically sweating right through your shirt.” You said teasingly, hoping to see the corners of his permanent set frown quirk upwards, just for you.

“It’s silly.” He wavered, eyes casting downwards to his boots. “M’just—insecure s’all. Don’t want you to uh—see me like that.” He was never the best with communicating, but he tried with you, and that’s all you could ever really ask for.

“Joel, it’s not silly. If it makes you feel any better, you can keep your clothes on? It doesn’t matter to me because I think you're handsome, and your real body isn’t gonna suddenly make me stop feeling the way I do for you.” You reassured him with a soft smile.

“If I keep my clothes on m’gonna sink like a fuckin’ rock.” He forced out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with a huff. “Y’say that now…” he trailed off, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “But ‘m littered with scars, baby. Got grays on my chest and—m’barely fittin’ in my jeans these days. Should probably hold off on extra—”

“Joel.” You sighed, “I’m gonna stop you right there. Cause everything you just described to me?” You lifted your hands up from under the water in emphasis, “is a real fucking body. More importantly, it’s your body. You’re a healthy man, Joel. Your jeans ain’t fitting the same because you’re no longer in survival mode. You’re getting to indulge in a way that you weren’t able to in over 20 years. You're strong, but you're also soft in the right places.”

He doesn't believe you, of course. He would argue that it was because he had grown old and lazy like a house cat. You didn’t give him the chance, however.

“I love how soft and squishy your stomach is. You know why?”

He shook his head, feeling a flush creep up his neck and face,

“Because it acts as the perfect pillow for my head when we’re napping, and I love to grab onto your love handles when we’re cuddlin.’ Love to feel the way it presses into me when we hug. Or when you’re takin’ me from behind.”

“You’re just sayin’ that.” He scoffed.

“Am I?” You challenged him as you pulled yourself out of the water, dripping wet in just your flimsy pair of bra and panties.

“Don’t.” He warned you, taking a step to the side when you reached out to touch him. As if he was a frightened animal shying away. “M’jus’ a fat old man, darlin.’ Don’t gotta lie to me, sweetheart. I can accept the truth.” He was on the edge of snapping, nearly baring his teeth.

“Joel.” You said softly, “stop that. I ain’t have a reason to lie to you. Never have, never will.”

“You don’t have to protect my heart, darlin.’ S’okay. I ain’t deservin’ of your kindness. Don’t know why you even waste your time with a man like me—”

You looped your thumbs into the worn belt loops of his jeans and yanked him towards you swiftly despite his faint protests. “Would you shut up, please?”

Loose pebbles crunched beneath his heavy boots when you pulled him towards you and his hands naturally found your waist, big palms splayed across your damp skin. “Don’t you think you deserve yourself a real man? Someone who—isn’t like me?”

“You are a real man, Joel.” You gently remind him and slowly slip your thumbs from the belt loops of his jeans. “You’re beautiful, and I just wish you could see what I see.”

“Beautiful?” He scoffed, nose twitching when he felt your hands slowly slide up the expanse of his covered chest, “that ain’t me, sweetheart.” He rasped, tilting his chin downwards so he could watch your fingers gently toy with the buttons on his shirt.

“It is you, Joel. And one day you’ll wake up and realize it. And when that day comes, you’ll look in the mirror and tell yourself that you are beautiful, and you are loved, and you are deserving of kindness and softness for as long as Mother Nature lets me have you.”

He could feel himself slowly begin to cave from your words, tears pricking in the corner of his eyes, and he would claim that it was just from the blinding sun and the irritating sweat dripping from his brow. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you, darlin.’ Don’t think I’ll ever understand it. You could have your pick of men in Jackson, and you choose me?” He stifled a chuckle, dipping his chin down further so he could kiss the edge of your fingertips.

“You’re worth more than the whole damn bunch, Joel. Stubborn ass of a man, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Undress me.” He murmured, swallowing the lump rising in his throat, “M’yours.”

You smiled, dragging your thumb against his jaw and slowly tilted his chin upwards so your eyes could meet, “Remember, it’s just you and me out here. Nothin’ but miles and miles of wilderness.”

“Kiss me.” He whispered, tightening his grip around your hips, pulling you in closer.

Your lips brush, testing the waters before you fully kiss him. Tasting the sweat from his brow that had trickled down his lips. Soft, chapped, warm and familiar against your own.

Your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt open, exposing his skin to the warm rays from the sun. You pushed the strained fabric down his shoulders, letting the shirt fall to the pebbles below. You traced his scars with delicate movements, detaching your lips from his so you could follow the path your fingers created. You nipped at the softness of his bicep, pressing open mouthed kisses that trailed down his arm to his hand. You kissed each knuckle, each callous with your eyes staying locked on his.

You squeezed the soft plump flesh of his love handles, imagining yourself using them as an anchor when you would ride his cock in the early morning hours when neither of you could sleep.

You dragged your nose against the swell of his belly, feeling him tense up before melting into your touch like a pad of butter on a hot pan. You inhaled his musky scent, dragging your lips southwards through the dark hair of his happy trail, pressing a kiss there, too.

Your fingers moved in muscle memory as you undid his belt, tugging his too tight jeans over his hips and strong thighs, letting them pool at his ankles.

He watches your every move, brows furrowed together at the sight of you on your knees between his thighs. He hopes to god there is no danger lurking nearby. He wants this memory etched into his brain for the rest of his days.

He breathes out a strained puff of air from between his parted lips when you press the tip of your nose against the underside of his heavy cock, and the drag of your hot tongue through the strained fabric.

A groan bubbles up his throat, spilling over and he presses his hips into your face, the swell of his belly brushing against the crown of your head.

You giggle, nipping lightly at the fabric, feeling his cock twitch and harden. You watch his eyes roll back, words tumbling out in tandem.

“Do. Not. Tease. Me.” He growled and you giggled at his response.

“If you want more…you’re just gonna have to catch me!” You rose from your knees before he could grab ahold of you, stepping back with that glint in your eye.

“Hey! That ain’t fair and you know it!” He huffed, already struggling to unlace his boots so he could pull his jeans off completely. He cursed under his breath when he watched you dive back into the refreshing waters.

“Gonna get you back for this.” He grumbled to himself, fighting the urge to grin at the warmth that he felt flooding in his chest.

You heard a loud splash just as you resurfaced, and two dark brown eyes locked onto you like a target as you playfully swam away.

Your giggles and his deep, raspy laughter filled the hot summer air like a song that you would play on repeat, over and over again.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 💕

Follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

#love shy Joel #reblog #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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starry-eyes-love · 25 days

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Been slowly picking away at this one and OMG, I've laughed, cried, been feral, and just such a heartwarming love for Osita and Javier. Love this to the moon and back, and I'm enjoying every moment of reading these ❤️❤️❤️

It's Never Too Late Masterlist

Summary: You are an elementary school teacher who just moved to Texas for a fresh start when you meet a very handsome man from the Laredo Sheriff's Department coming to give your class a presentation.

After your co-workers pull some strings for you to meet again, you and Javier Peña find yourselves falling head over heels for each other.

Story takes place post Narcos Season 3 in Laredo, Texas, starting May 1997.

Paring: Javier Peña x OFC (Reader is an elementary school teacher whose nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+ chapters containing marked with * and each chapter will also have its own warnings), language, fluff, romantic comedy, reader has physical descriptions, Javi being so soft and getting all the love and affection he deserves, you two being the biggest weirdos so in love

Status: Ongoing

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for new chapters as they come out! :)

Main Story:

Chapter 1: I D.A.R.E. You

Chapter 2: What's Cookin', Good Lookin'?

Chapter 3: I Wanna Be With You Everywhere*

Chapter 4: Add You To My List*

Chapter 5: You're The One That I Want*

Chapter 6: Dinosaurs, Dates and Diners, Oh My!*

Chapter 7: School's Out for Summer*

Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy*

Chapter 8.5: 007- Peña, Agent Peña*

Chapter 9: I Promise*

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Javi*

Pt. 1*

Pt. 2*

Chapter 11: Abe Froman, Sausage King of Chicago *

Chapter 12: I Love You. I Know. *

Chapter 13: There's No Place Like Home*

Chapter 14: Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas*

Chapter 15: She Shoots, She Scores*

Chapter 16: The Lone Star State*

Chapter 17: No Ifs, Ands, Or Butts*

Chapter 18: Hole in None*

Chapter 19: Good Luck, and Goodnight*

Chapter 20: I Do

Pt. 1*

Spin-Off Series:

Forever and Always*: Slices of life following the Peña family after their first child

One Shots (In chronological order of the main storyline):

Movie Night*

Dirty Laundry*

Again*

You're My Home*

Not Yet*

Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña*

The Mouse and the Motorcycle

You Make Life Worth It

Take Me Home

Plaid Pajama Morning

Agent Peña*

Every Inch*

Soup for Breakfast

Whatever My Wife Wants*

Oh, Baby

Peanut Butter and Pickles

Asks/Headcannons:

Javi and Osita before work

Javi's DEA Jacket

Javi's Tac Vest

Javi and Osita when they argue

Javi being distractingly cute

Javi when he's sick

Osita when she's pregnant

Osita after a bad day at work

Javi coming home after work to his kids

Extras:

NSFW Alphabet- Javi and Osita

1K Followers Celebration Asks and Answers

Never Too Late Playlist

Mood board

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #javier pena #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #loving this

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starry-eyes-love · 29 days

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I know me neither sadly 😞 I've never seen someone so attentive nor able to help with health concerns (taking out all the smut stuff). But that's why I needed to make him up, him being a person who can help ease the pain. I live in horrible pain each day, some of her issues come from my own personal journey, and honestly...we all need that happily ever after. The side story of him just wanting her is extra filler to make it interesting. Glad you're enjoying it ☺️

Too Young to Die- Part 1

Masterlist

Part 1 of 3 part Mini Series

Pairing | Massage Therapist Joel Miller x F!Reader with Autoimmune disease, no outbreak, AU (I changed up his timeline a bit).

Summary | You were referred to Dr. Joel Miller, a massage specialist, to help manage your joint and muscle pain with autoimmune disease. What you didn’t know was that Joel was an insanely attractive man, and that you’d be coming undone underneath him before your first appointment was even over with.

Series Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut!

Age gap (he’s 47, she’s 29), language, Smut (with a capital S, watch out!!), daddy reference, f!(fingering), squirting, female reader has autoimmune disease, Joel is a massage therapist, slight reference of medical stuff, reader verbalizes anxiety with treatment, fluffy Joel, soft Joel, sexy Joel, terms of endearment, Joel asks her out on a date at the end.

A/N: This one is completely self-indulgent and has been sitting in my draft folder since before Christmas. I have autoimmune disease, and treatment hasn’t worked much for me in many areas, so I know some of the troubles and struggles that the reader here has. Not everyone who has autoimmune disease may experience these symptoms, concerns, or struggles. This will be only a three part mini series. Very smutty with story building throughout. Enjoy!

Word Count: 9.1K (we’re establishing a story here)

Fuck you were wrecked, seconds away from crashing through, or into, a brick wall with an orgasm, you thought. This felt different though, so much different than what you’ve ever experienced before. “Joel, fuck, pressure, it’s a lot of pressure and I’m, fuck, I’m, I’m-” “Come f’me sweetheart. Come on baby, fucking soak my fingers.”

Joel Miller sat in his office of his massage studio, looking over the referral paperwork that Dr. Samson, an autoimmune specialist, had sent him. A female patient was being referred to him for treatment of musculoskeletal pain and tenderness.

“Patient has reoccurring musculoskeletal tremors of unknown origin that come and go. Bilateral joint swelling seen in all extremities with positive inflammation noted in laboratory test results and X-rays. Arthritis and arthralgia positive in all joints. According to the patient, anti-inflammatory and arthritis medication only works slightly for pain. Recommended gentle massage therapy to see if joint lubrication and increased joint mobility is plausible, and if pain and muscle tremors will cease. Immediate referral requested.”

When Joel glanced at the bottom of the form a week ago, he had seen that the referral had come in three weeks prior. Now today, four weeks after the initial referral, he was finally able to see you for the first time. When he had inquired with his secretary as to why it took so long before he saw you, she had said that there was a problem with your private healthcare insurance. Delaying treatment was never something that Joel Miller prided himself on. In fact, he was usually the opposite with trying to get his patients in for their first appointment within a week following their referral. Joel, having been a contractor in his previous life before becoming a massage therapist, knew the difficulties with treating joint and muscle pain. The goal was to never delay treatment as it would lead to widespread body inflammation. And once inflammation fully set into muscles and joints, it was harder for someone to find relief of their discomfort.

You were Joel’s next scheduled patient to arrive in 20 minutes. As he waited for your arrival, he went back over your X-rays, lab test results, and dictation notes from your autoimmune specialist. He had already reviewed it previously, but now he was refreshing himself on your in-depth history as he took some last minute notes of things that he wanted to ask you for this particular session. He had booked your first appointment with him to be about 2 hours, instead of the usual hour. Joel always conducted very detailed exams with his patients. He was also very knowledgeable in understanding autoimmune patients, especially knowing that each person was unique. He wanted to tailor a program that was going to help you specifically.

Joel Miller wasn’t just your average run of the mill massage therapist, he had a specialty license in massage. He specialized in patients with pain, joint stiffness and swelling, inflammation, autoimmune disease, injuries, etc. People usually only came to him by doctor referral, which usually meant two things. First, he prided himself on taking his time to get to know his patients and how he could help ease their suffering and pain. And second, he typically charged more money for his services. Most massage therapists would charge people a fee based on how long they performed their massage, Joel charged by the session. The maximum time he would give a client with his hands was 1 hour, but he’d pencil in 1.5 hours of time with them just in case they felt pain. Sometimes he’d have to stop and let patients breathe and relax for a minute before he started massaging their muscles again. Joel had a lot of training and education in the technique that was required, and many patients walked away from him stating that they felt a lot better. By glancing at your history he didn’t think that you’d be a one time only patient. He thinks that you would benefit from regular massages with him to help treat your inflammation and pain.

“Mr. Miller, your 10 AM appointment is here,” his secretary, Ashley, said.

“Thanks Ashley, I’ll be out in a minute. Please take her back to Room 5, and I’ll be along in a minute.” He replied, still studying the notes from your doctor and making notes for himself of the things that he wanted to focus on with you for your first appointment.

When you had arrived at the address for your first massage, you felt a sickly feeling in your stomach. Your doctor had reassured you that Mr. Miller would be the person to help you feel better. But just like all the other promises that your primary care provider gave you, and how none of them worked the way that you hoped, you were very skeptical at this new treatment option. Nothing helped you feel better, and you were beyond frustrated. It took you a bit to convince yourself this morning to come here, telling yourself that Dr. Miller was an expert at this, and that you should give him a try. What could hurt, you thought. Worst case scenario, it didn't do anything, which sadly was the norm for you these days.

For the last several years, your body had been poked and prodded more times than you would care to admit. Each time there was a promise of a better understanding or discovery of why this was all happening. But with each test, came more conflicting and confusing results, and you were exhausted from it all. You have been giving more blood for the sake of medical testing than what you’d think was truly normal. As ridiculous as it sounded, you felt that if Dracula was actually a real being, that he would be impressed with the amount of blood that you've donated for the sake of medical science.

With shaky hands, you got out of your car, locked it, and then entered the facility. When you entered you noticed that the space was calm. There was pale muted colors that covered the walls, colors that often helped people relax. But it did nothing for your nerves. You were shaking and not wanting to do any of this anymore. You felt like you had a huge lump in your throat, and that you couldn't fully swallow. Of all the things that you had to be afraid of in this world, you were the most afraid of medical treatment. Yet, that was the one thing that you were blessed with in having to always do. ‘Thanks body for betraying me with autoimmune,’ you thought.

As you walked up to the registration window, you found the secretary typing away on her keyboard while looking at her computer screen. You tried to settle your nerves before opening your mouth, but you felt like you were drowning in a pool of despair. Anxiety was getting the better of you again, and you felt like you wanted to run away and hide from everything. But where could you go when autoimmune always seemed to follow you, especially with the pain that came along with it.

“Um, excuse me,” you said meekly, after standing at the window for a brief moment.

The secretary continued to type away, not looking at you nor acknowledging your presence. You went to clear your voice again when she abruptly stopped and said, “what can I do for you hun?”

“I- uh, I have an appointment, with um, with Dr. Miller I think,” you said softly.

“Oh, hun it's just Mr. Miller, or Joel for short. He doesn't like being called Doctor. He always says he has a doctorate degree in massage, not in medicine. Yet they're kinda the same thing if you ask me.” The secretary said, shaking her head with a slight laugh. You stood there in silence, looking at her as she continued to ramble on. You were trying to listen to what she was saying, but all you could feel was your heart racing in your chest at the prospect of once again meeting a new person with the promise of helping you.

After listening to the woman who you thought was named Ashley ramble on for 15 minutes, as that was the name that you noticed on her name tag, you were finally sitting down in the general waiting area. You were slowly trying to calm down and relax while staring outside and watching the birds hunt for bugs in the grass. You didn't know how long you were waiting there, just staring outside, before you heard Ashley call your name again to take you back to Room 5. You didn’t know what to expect when you entered the room, but what you saw shocked you.

The room was softly lit, with soft music playing in the background, music that you liked. You also heard running waterfalls, sounds that came from the little fountains scattered all around the room. There was also a hint of cinnamon and slight vanilla aroma in the air, your favorite scents that would usually calm you. You tried racking your brain as to how, by chance, these scents and sounds were present when Ashley said, “it was on your intake survey. Your favorite classical music, scents, and sounds. Joel's very thorough, focusing on relaxation as much as muscle and joint relief.”

You stood there shocked. You thought those questions were just asked of people to try to ease the tension of how you were going to let a stranger put their hands on you. You had no idea that your answers would actually be taken seriously. Usually doctors, when they’ve asked those questions, never really did anything with the answers. Well, Dr. Miller was definitely different. It was at this moment that you were grateful that someone actually listened to you. You just hoped that he would continue with the same dedication while speaking with you, and not ignore what you said like everyone else seemed to do. You were frustrated with the medical field. You’d tell them something hurt, or something was happening and they only looked at your lab tests and X-rays and made decisions based on that, never actually listening to what you were truly telling them. You had only been in the room for maybe 5 minutes when you heard a gentle knock on the door, and the entrance of who you only could have suggested was Dr. Miller.

“Good day, I'm Dr. Miller but you can call me Joel.” He said while holding out his hand for you to shake. You shook his hand, and as you did, you felt how rough his hands were. They were calloused and strong, very sturdy hands. Not something that you'd expect to see from a massage therapist. This intrigued you, as you've always loved a man with rough hands.

After you introduced yourself, Joel walked over to the small desk in the room and sat down on the rolling stool. A typical doctor stool that you’ve seen countless times in exam rooms. He grabbed a piece of paper and then sat there for a moment writing a few notes, things that you thought were probably dealing with your medical file. After a moment he finally looked up at you and then asked with a slight Southern drawl, “How are y’feeling today?”

“I- I’m ok” you said meekly as you slowly looked over Joel. Joel was a gorgeous man, clearly in his later 40s with chocolate brown curly hair. He had a mustache and a slight beard by his jaw, one that had a slight sprinkling of gray in it. He also had glasses on his face with gentle eyes behind the glasses, ones that you could easily get lost in. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt, framing his broad shoulders perfectly. He had a slight tan on his arms, and hands that once again you couldn't wait to touch you. By looking at him, you didn’t think that massage was the only thing that Joel has done in his life. Something told you that he had spent many years doing hard work with his hands. As you continued your exploration, you then noticed that he was wearing a nice pair of black pants that hugged his hips perfectly. As you continued, you saw that Dr. Miller was definitely someone who was a decent sized man in the bedroom, seeing the soft bulge in his pants as he sat down with his legs slightly spread on the stool by the desk. You couldn’t help yourself but you stared at his package, wondering what it’d look like outside of the confines of his pants, and what it would feel like fully aroused inside of you. The longer you stared, the more you felt heat rise up the back of your neck. When you noticed the awkward moment of him looking at you, clearly having asked you a question that you didn't hear, you shook your head slightly, looking down fully at the floor while saying “sorry” out loud.

“It's ok darlin',” he said, giving you a small little smirk at the fact that he caught you checking him out. You were hoping that he didn’t see what you were checking out the longest though. You didn’t want to explain to your massage therapist that you were fantasizing about his package, and what types of moans or grunts he’d make while fucking your brains out.

Joel continued to talk to you, explaining why you were here, and how his services could help you. You were only half listening to him, embarrassed about how you had behaved previously. Joel was devilishly handsome, the type of guy that you were into. You were, however, internally scolding yourself at the importance of having proper social etiquette, and not eye fucking your massage therapist, which is what you were doing every time you looked at him.

As Joel continued to talk with you, he slowly moved around the room, grabbing different things off from the shelves. He instantly noticed your meek and shy attitude, even though he had caught you checking him out earlier. He had to admit, you were very cute, but Joel was a professional. He couldn’t allow himself the joys of thinking about you in a different sort of way. Nevermind, that if he wasn’t your massage therapist, he would definitely want to explore those other possibilities with you. What he did notice though was how you turned inward at the mentions of pain, autoimmune disease, and how your doctor said you didn’t have much abilities to do activities that your peers could do. You were 29, and he knew what the world did to 29 year olds who didn’t, or couldn’t, do the same things that their peers could. The world would ignore you. Joel, himself, remembered those days when he was 29 and worked construction when Sarah and Ellie, his daughters, were younger. All his friends went out partying after work, when he went home and raised a 10 year old and a 2 year old all on his own, Sarah and Ellie’s mom were already out of the picture. Joel was lost in his own head, remembering those earlier days, when all of a sudden he heard you speak up in an irritated tone.

“Mr. Miller, no disrespect, but I don’t think you understand what it’s like to not be able to do things that most 29 year olds can do.” You didn’t think he understood. So once again you found yourself trying to explain to a medical professional how much autoimmune has negatively impacted your life at such a young age, and how agitated you were at the fact that no one seemed to help you or listen to you. Joel, being the attentive man that he was, sat across from you on the stool and listened to every word that you had said.

Once you were finished, Joel took a deep inhale, then followed by a long exhale and then said “I am so sorry that people haven’t listened to you, or have taken you seriously about your concerns with your body. You’re right, I don’t know what it's like f’ya as I’m not you. But, I do know what it’s like to not be able to do everything a 29 year old can do. I may not have autoimmune, but I had different responsibilities that didn’t allow me the joys of doing everything that I wanted, including the joys of being with a beautiful woman like yourself at that age. That’s why I want to help you.”

As soon as Joel called you beautiful, he saw your reaction. You started to blush on your cheeks from the compliment. You felt flattered by the older man that was in front of you. Meanwhile, Joel internally scolded himself at how his statement wasn't proper patient-doctor etiquette. Joel had vowed to himself that he wouldn't cross that line again, especially with you, no matter how drop dead gorgeous he thought you were.

Joel began to run a few tests with you, checking your reflexes and testing your mobility. You didn’t say anything else to him after his statement. You felt embarrassed by your actions and assumptions that he didn't care or understand, when you could clearly see that he did. The longer you looked at him, the more you could see that he was someone who truly did care about helping others. You silently wondered if his treatment would actually help.

“Dr. Miller?” you asked, wanting to scratch the itch of your curiosity in understanding the treatment that he was suggesting.

“Joel” he said as he pushed on your shoulder blades. When you winced he said “are you tender here?” as he pushed on the same spot again, but this time with a little less force.

“Yeah. I’m tender there, and everywhere,” you said with a hiss as he moved his hand down to your biceps. “It’s tender inside every joint, and sometimes muscles. Winter’s in Minnesota aren’t too nice for people like me,” you said, head hanging low as a tear slipped down your cheeks.

You felt Joel stop testing your joints and muscles, hands still on your arms when he placed his finger gently under your chin, slightly tilting your head up so you could look him in the eyes. After a moment he said, “Well, we’ll try to rectify that now won’t we. Massage is more than just relaxin’, it helps a lot of people in ways that can-”

“Can it cure me?” you said, interrupting him, with wide eyes. “Cause if it can cure me, I’ll do anything. But don’t tell me that it’ll work miracles. Don't get my hopes up and then have it fail. I-I can’t take it anymore with all of the disappointment” you said, closing your eyes to take a steadying breath as tears gathered at your waterline. It has been a very long and exhausting road these past three years with your autoimmune journey. You found out early on that your body couldn’t tolerate medication, and nothing else seemed to work.

“I can’t promise that it’ll do miracles by curin’ ya, but I can promise that I’ll try my best to make you feel better. How’s that?” Joel said with a tender voice, trying to soothe your emotional discomfort of years of failed treatments. Joel remembered reading the last line of your referral by Dr. Samson which had stated;

“No treatments have been successful. Patient has voiced wanting to stop trying autoimmune treatments, stating that she didn’t feel like it was working. Patient was informed that if she decided to fully stop taking immunosuppressant medications, that the end result would be major organ damage that could lead to death. Patient agreed to try one more treatment for pain, stating that if the treatment didn’t work, then she’d stop autoimmune treatments altogether and ‘let whatever happens, happen’.”

‘Fuck,’ Joel had thought when he first read that last line in your medical file. Someone giving up, especially at such a young age, didn't sit well with him. Being 29, your entire world was still in front of you. You had a lot more years and possibilities of life in front of you. Giving up wasn't something that Joel did, and the fact that you had voiced wanting to stop treatments to your doctor bothered him immensely. Truly, it wasn't necessarily the fact that you had wanted to stop treatments that upset him. It was your willingness to allow death to potentially consume you that truly got to him. You were too young to die.

20 minutes later, you were lying on your stomach with a sheet covering your lower half. You were completely naked, scolding yourself internally that you didn’t wear underware today with your pants. Joel was slowly massaging your back, trying to work out the knots that he felt in your muscles. As his hands continued to work out the knots and tension, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. His touch was not only skilled, but carried a reassurance that echoed through your body. You felt safe with him, safe in a way that you haven’t for a long time. You felt like if you were near him, that he’d take all the bad in the world away for you. And if you were being honest, this comfort was something that you haven't felt in a very long time from anyone.

"You're doing great, darlin’," Joel whispered, sensing your vulnerability and turmoil you had been feeling. Joel could tell that you were working through something major in your head, just like most of his patients did. Most of the time he focused on trying to distract people from their internal thoughts, giving them a break when they were here. But there was something about the silence between the two of you right now that he felt like you desperately needed. Every time he’d open his mouth to ask you a question, he’d feel you tense up, and that was the last thing he wanted you to do. So he slowly worked your sore muscles and joints, giving them the tenderness and affection that they needed, while allowing you to stay seated in silence.

Throughout the session, Joel maintained an empathetic connection with you. He explained each technique when he’d switch it up, providing you with the most gentle sense of comfort. He’d tell you what he was going to do, if he moved down your body or up, giving you moments to breathe when he felt like it was too much. But most of all, he gave you that warmth and unawkward silence that you craved. He wanted you to just live and feel, to just be in the moment with him.

As Joel's tender touch continued, you felt a warmth spread throughout your body, slightly dissipating the pain that had lingered there for so long. His words became a comforting melody, echoing a promise to you of relief. “You’re doing so good f’me, gentle breaths in and out, there y’go.” He said, encouraging you to stay centered and remain in the moment. That was the key in pain relief, staying grounded and living within the moment. When we just allow our body to feel, and not force anything, we can find peace and calmness. These feelings of peace and calmness are what leads us to having pain relief.

As Joel moved down to your lower back, you let out a hiss in pain, followed by an “ouch that hurts.”

“What hurts darlin’?” Joel said, slowing his deep strokes on your lower back, right above your tailbone area. He doesn’t remember reading in your file that you had lower back pain, so this was something new that caught him a little off guard.

“Right there, low” you said, hissing again as he pressed his finger into the lower part of your back, on your left side, by your hip.

After you hissed a second time, Joel immediately stopped and walked around to the other side of the massage table. He gently pressed on your lower back and hip joint on the other side, saying, “how ‘bout over here, does this hurt?”

“No, not as bad,” you said. “It's my left side, god that hurts.” You said, as he reached over and lightly pressed on your left side once again.

“Ok, let’s try somethin’,'' Joel said, moving completely over to your left side now. “I’m gonna hold up the blanket, where you still are covered, and I want you to flip completely on your back, okay? I wanna see if your pain continues in a different position.”

You nodded your head and then gently felt the blankets pull off from you. Joel was completely looking away from you, giving you privacy as you turned to lay on your back instead of your stomach. When you finally settled, you told him that you were ready. He then informed you that he was only going to uncover your left leg, to the mid thigh region. As he did, he explained how he was going to test your leg's range of motion to see if it was your hip joint that had caused you pain.

With only doing simple joint motions with your leg, Joel noticed that nothing was painful. When he bent your knee, pointing your knee outwards towards the left, followed by gently lifting your leg higher, to open up your pelvis more, he didn’t see any outward signs of pain from you.

“If I do this, does it hurt?” He said, placing a little weight on your leg.

As soon as your knee got about level with your pelvis you hissed again. Joel tried pushing down on your pelvic joint to determine where it hurt, but all you did was whimper. The pain wasn’t coming from your joint, it was coming from someplace else deep inside of you. When he returned your leg back down he said “I’m sorry darlin’, I can’t determine where your pain is coming from. Have you had it-”

“Just forget about it” you said, turning your head to the opposite side, closing your eyes as you felt the tears start to stream down your face.

“Hey, none of that, '' Joel said, gently turning your chin towards him so he could see your face in its entirety. “If somethin’ is hurting ya, I wanna hear about it. Help me out, where does it hurt?” When you didn’t respond right away he said, “does it hurt here” as he gently pressed on your hip bone. He watched you shake your head no. “How about here?” He asked, moving slightly inward, towards the inside of your pelvic bone.

With a shaky breath you said, “no, but it hurts straight down, but lower and inward more.”

“Here” he said, moving down about halfway where your hip joint was, towards the inside of your pelvis. You let out another shaky breath, closing your eyes as tears fell more from your cheeks, shaking your head no to him.

It took Joel a second to figure it out. But when he did, he finally understood why you were crying. You were embarrassed about what was happening inside of your body. When he moved his hand down towards the lower left side quadrant of your abdomen, and gently pushed where your ovaries were, he asked, “does it hurt here darlin’?” As soon as he applied a little bit of pressure to your left ovary area, you let out a stuttered breath, nodding your head up and down.

Joel flattened his hand on your tummy, where the sensation was, knowing what the culprit was. You were probably mid cycle and ovulating with an ovarian cyst. He didn’t remember you being pregnant, but he wanted to make sure that it wasn't an ectopic pregnancy before he ruled it as an ovarian problem.

“If I press over here, does it hurt?” Joel said, pressing on the other side in the lower abdomen. You had your eyes closed, tears lightly falling, shaking your head no.

“Ok, ok, darlin’. I know, I know. Deep breaths for me though, ok?” he said, as he watched tears stream down your face. He gave you a moment to collect yourself, before he asked his next question.

“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” He said, slowly stroking your tummy where a baby would be laying. He knew he shouldn’t, but somehow imagining you having a swollen tummy where a baby would lay was giving him fantasies that he didn’t even know existed.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, saying, “no, it’s not that.”

Puzzled, Joel looked at you and said, “y’know, if an ectopic pregnancy happened, y’still could have a normal period. If there’s any chance that you could be pregnant, like having unprotected sex, or even if the condom broke, you probably should-”

“Joel, I haven’t had sex in 3 years,” you said, barely above a whisper. When you noticed the shocked look on his face you turned your head away from him adding, “guys really don’t want to have sex with a woman like me.”

“What’d y’mean, a woman like you?” He said, furrowing his brows at your odd phrasing.

“A woman who’s sick with autoimmune, Joel.” You said, closing your eyes and trying to pull back the tears that were threatening to fall again. You didn't want to have this conversation, and you sure as hell didn't want to admit how the act of even having orgasms were difficult for you. There were just some autoimmune embarrassments that you wanted to keep to yourself, no matter how much it shattered your soul inside. You didn't feel like a beautiful, young, sexy, attractive woman that you knew all the other single 29 year old ladies felt. You felt like you couldn’t offer anything to the male race that wasn't medical tests, sickness, and heartache combined.

Immediately Joel felt irritation and anger at your careless comment of how men wouldn't find you attractive or want to be with you. Without dwelling on it, Joel did the one thing that he knew he shouldn't, he opened his mouth to speak more on the issue. He hoped he could get you to understand that not all men were like this, that he sure as hell wasn't like this.

“Darlin’, boys, not real men, are like that. A real man wouldn’t allow sickness to stop him from wantin’ a beautiful woman like yourself. A real man would enjoy making you feel good. Real men, honey, not boys.”

Once he said it, Joel knew that he shouldn’t have opened his mouth, especially with the look that you were giving him. You looked back at him, shocked, and taken aback by his forward statement. But he couldn’t just stand there and listen to you accuse men, like him, of not caring. He would do anything to be with a beautiful woman like yourself, whether or not you were sick with a permanent illness.

After your head caught up with Joel's statement on men, you just shook your head. You then gave him a genuine, honest to god, belly laugh. “Yeah, well, Mr. Miller, show me where a real man is who wouldn’t care about all of that. Tell me who he is, because honestly, I haven’t found one single guy out there who’d be willing to have a real relationship with me because of this illness. And for the record, I can’t even get a guy to fuck me with no strings attached either. Not that I’d want that, cause I don’t do the casual sex thing, but still, you get it.” You said, snapping right back at him.

It was Joel's turn this time to look shocked. He thought to himself, why the hell has no one treated you right? He could see that you were exhausted with your own body and with your own life. He could tell that you were exhausted at the reminder of what you didn't have, of what your autoimmune disease had taken from you. He wondered if you ever truly tried, or if you just gave up right away. The longer he looked at you, the more he realized that you had tried, but obviously you weren't successful.

As you sat there partially propped up onto your forearms, you felt the tears well up into your eyes once again as you watched Joel look at you. You were embarrassed at what you had said. At admitting how easy it was for everyone else in the world to have relationships, everyone except you. Hell your own family even disowned you after your diagnosis stating that it was “too hard for them to handle.” So you've been doing this on your own, all alone, for the past 3 years. Exhausted didn't even come close to describing the way that you felt.

As you gently laid back down at this realization of loneliness once again, silently scolding yourself for opening your mouth, you accidentally hit the back of your head on the table, muttering “shit” under your breath. After a moment, you heard Joel let out another long sigh and then he gently grabbed your chin and said, “hey, look at me.”

When you looked into Joel’s eyes, he was staring back at you with concern and tenderness lacing his features. Joel saw your frustration and array of emotions, and he felt like it was important for him to take away all those insecurities by telling you that he wasn't like all those other boys you were with. With a slight smile, he gently cupped your cheek and said, “darlin’, a real man, like me, doesn’t fucking care if you’re sick or not. Men, like me honey, would take care of you regardless of the problems that you have. And honestly, it’s a damn shame that no one has ever taken their time with you, making sure your needs were met. If I was with you, I'd make damn sure you were enjoying it the entire time.”

Joel then removed his hand and placed both hands on the side of the massage table, stepping back and exhaling through his mouth as he looked down at the ground. He knew he needed to end this session right now. He's already stepped over far too many lines, and if he didn't watch it, he'd cross an even bigger one of showing you how a real man gave a beautiful woman pleasure.

You laid there watching the turmoil unfold on Joel's face. He wouldn't look up at you, kept staring down at the floor, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet periodically. He had checked his watch several times, attempted to clear his throat once, and had quickly glanced out the window. You knew those signs, he was trying to find a nice way to end the session or end the conversation. The more you watched him, the more upset you got.

After Joel stood there staring outside for a while, he finally cleared his throat again. “I- uh, I think Dr. Anderson can probably help you better, she’s very good with this type of stuff,” he said, waving his arm at you, but not looking at you.

When he straightened up to walk away you closed your eyes and said in a soft voice, “Please, please, help me.” You wanted to keep your voice steady, but you found that it slightly cracked at the end, which made you internally scold yourself. You weren't a weak person by nature, you couldn't afford to be with a disease that was slowly destroying your organs and killing you from the inside out. But somehow you felt like you were weak, like you were just a shell of the person that you once were. At first, when you asked for his help, you didn't know what exactly you were asking for. But as the seconds ticked by, with him not answering, you realized that you were pleading for him to see you.

Without looking at you, Joel asked in a gentle tone, “what do y’need help with?” When he turned back around towards you, his eyes were closed, and he was taking several steadying breaths. He was trying to calm his nerves and to silence the war that was going on in his mind. His mind was screaming at him, reminding him that this was inappropriate patient-doctor conversation or relations. He knew he needed to stop. So it shocked him to hear himself say a little louder, “Darlin’, what do you need help with?”

You just stared up at him, searching his face to see if what you wanted to voice was okay for you to do. You wanted him, as a man, to find you attractive and to touch you. But how could you ask him to go against all of his code of ethics as a medical provider just to touch you like a husband would touch a wife, desperately and passionately. You didn’t even know if he was married, or even in a relationship with someone else.

As Joel opened his eyes, he looked down at you, and it was then that he knew what you wanted. You were looking at him the same way his ex-wife used to look at him from time to time. When she’d plead with him to fuck her, to silence all her insecurities in her head. He hasn't seen a woman look at him like that for almost 20 years, and it did something to him. It made his resolve crumble instantly where he said ‘fuck it' in his own head, and he gave in to his primal instinct of helping you as a man, not as your doctor.

“Baby, come on. I ain’t gonna ask y’again. What is it that you need, honey? Tell me, and I'll do it.”

“Joel, please,” was all you could say, begging him with your eyes, trying to tell him what you wanted.

“No, now, come on. Y'gotta use your words for me. Be a good girl and tell Daddy what he can do to help you and make you feel better.”

As soon as Joel had said the word daddy, he instantly scolded himself. But when he saw your eyes glaze over with arousal at the name, he knew what you wanted. You lightly whimpered and started squeezing your thighs tight together.

Joel felt dizzy for a moment as blood rushed fast to his cock at your whimper, his cock hardening to the point of being painful. But this wasn't about him. This was about you, about showing you that a real man, like him, could give you affection and attention like you so desperately needed.

He walked towards you, gently placing his hand onto your thigh, lightly stroking it. He was trying to center you and help you communicate with him in what you wanted and needed. He knew all of this was wrong, but he couldn't help himself, especially when you begged him to touch you.

“Joel, please, touch me,” you said, while grabbing his hand and guiding it to below the blanket to where you were practically throbbing.

“F-fuck,” Joel slightly moaned, closing his eyes at the feeling of you not wearing any underwear as he touched your slick velvet folds underneath the blanket with his hand. Your lips were slightly swollen, aroused, and desperately needing attention. You were making a mess on his table, slick pouring out of you from your needy little hole. You wanted Joel to help soothe the ache deep within you, to take your pain away.

Joel slowly moved his finger down to your center. Feeling your pussy spasm and clench around nothing. He rested his finger at your opening, not pushing his finger inside of you just yet, but slowly stroking it with feather-like touches. “Baby, we shouldn’t do this” he said, still slowly circling your opening, and not stopping or pushing his finger in. He needed to hear your verbal confession that you wanted this, that you wanted him. As Joel felt your hole clench a second time at nothing, he said, “baby, please, say somethin’.”

You moaned slightly while opening your hips up to allow him better access to you. “More” was the only audible thing that you could say at the moment. And that's when Joel’s resolve fully crumbled, and he pushed two fingers knuckle deep inside of you, stretching you perfectly around him.

“Fuck baby, that's tight. Ya squeezing my fingers in a goddamn vice.” He said, growling low, followed by a soft grunt.

You willed yourself to relax, to allow Joel in more. To allow him to get deeper within you, to where you knew that you needed him. To say his fingers were a stretch was an understatement. His fingers were longer and thicker than what you were used to. It was a comfortable stretch, but almost borderline on being painful. You've never been stretched out this much with just fingers alone. If you had to guess by his slow movements he was doing right now, you thought that Joel was a very experienced man, especially when he curled his fingers and found that spot deep within you that you've never found before. As soon as he hit it, your eyes rolled back in your head and you softly moaned “fuuuck.”

“There she is, right there huh, baby?” He said, angling his hand a bit more to get a little deeper as he started to stroke your g-spot with those perfected come hither movements.

Joel was good at three things: First, he was a very hard worker. He had the perfect street smarts to own and operate two successful businesses in his lifetime. Second, he was an amazing father. Always listening and being there for his girls. And finally, he was an attentive lover. He listened, and found what worked for every woman that he’s ever been with. He knew how to fuck a woman just right, and how to bring her the most and best pleasure. And that was something that he made sure you understood at the moment with his fingers.

As Joel continued to work his magic with his fingers, pushing them a little deeper inside of you, and picking up the pace in stroking you, you felt your walls spasm more. You let out a low moan, breathing starting to become erratic as the sensation of pleasure took over your body. You were right, you obviously hadn't had a good fuck for a long time, especially considering that you were not far from coming undone on just his fingers alone with no clit stimulation whatsoever. And if you could describe the feeling that you were feeling right now with his fingers moving inside of you, you would describe it as being ‘fucking fantastic.’

Joel found himself matching your small moan with a groan of his own, especially when he looked down and noticed your pussy was dripping all over him. He slowly started withdrawing his fingers, giving you time to adjust, before pushing them back in. It was obscene, the wet squelching noises that your beautiful cunt was making for him. You were biting your lip, eyes casted away from him. He gently grabbed your chin with his other hand, turning you towards him while saying “no darlin’, eyes right here. Ya keep ‘em on me, ok?” He said, as he slowly kept pushing his fingers in and out of you. He kept up the slow pace for a bit, working you up, not wanting to fully tip you over the edge just yet. He knew that you needed this, that you needed to enjoy the experience.

“Joel, it feels- fuck, it feels, it feels,” you were at a loss for words at the moment. You were struggling to keep your eyes on him right now, fighting them from wanting to roll back into your head at the sensation of pleasure.

“I know baby. Fuck, just listen to her, she needs this huh? Your pussy needs this, doesn’t she? This. Nice. Slow. Finger. Fuck, huh?” He said, slowing down more and thrusting harder with his fingers at every word he said, drawing out your pleasure more. The longer he fucked you slow with his fingers, the more your pussy gripped him hard, sucking him in, not wanting him to leave. You were panting, starting to squirm, getting lost in the pleasure. Joel wanted to tease you a little longer, but he figured you weren’t used to this kind of play. Something he intended to do next time he had you alone, preferably in his bed with you begging for his cock.

When Joel saw you start to match his thrusts with your own, he knew it was time for him to tip you over the edge. So Joel really started to finger fuck you you now, the way that he knew women liked. When he did that, you cried out at the stimulation and surprise of his actions.

“Shhh baby, it's alright,” he said, cooing at you to quiet you down. “Now, darlin’, you’re gonna be a good girl and come all over these fingers, ok? Then you're getting a full refund today. I don't charge money to finger fuck my clients.”

You nodded your head, trying to keep your eyes open as Joel massaged the inside of your velvety warm walls, getting closer to the edge. Your toes were starting to curl, breathing was very erratic. You were getting very close to cumming.

“And lastly sweetheart,” he said, putting pressure down on your lower abdomen, and curling his fingers in a way that he knew would make your vision go blurry, while building a firm pressure sensation inside of your abdomen. “You must communicate with me with your words when something doesn't feel good, or if you want me to do something differently. You know your body better than me honey. I don't, so help me make you feel good. Okay?”

“Come f’me sweetheart. Come on baby, fucking soak my fingers” Joel growled in your ear as the rubberband inside of you snapped hard. When it did, your cunt seized around his fingers as you felt the gush of fluid come out of you, he made you squirt for the first time. Your vision went white, ears ringing, legs shaking from the intensity of it all. You’ve never come so hard ever in your life, and you couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped your lips around Joel’s hand that was now covering your mouth. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm, whispering “good fucking girl” with a strained voice as he watched you come undone. His own pupils were blown wide, eyes impossibly dark with lust, wanting nothing more than to bury his cock deep inside of you, to feel you spasm around him hard like this. But that would have to happen at a later time. Today was about you, about giving you something that you needed, attention from a man. You were a beautiful woman, and you deserved to have a man take care of you in this way, and other ways too, even if you did have autoimmune disease.

Joel continued to slowly work you through your high, pumping his fingers gently in and out of you. When you finally came back to Earth, he removed his soaked fingers from your cunt and then he slammed his lips hard against your mouth, kissing you fervently. You licked the seam of his lips, asking for access into his mouth, which he quickly granted. You two were wrestling your tongues together, each seeking dominance over the other. Joel has never been kissed like this, with so much passion that he hated pulling away from you mere moments later, gasping for breath as his heart raced out of control in his chest.

“Fuck woman, no one’s ever kissed me like that,” he said, gasping for breath. Joel placed his forehead gently against yours, eyes closed, breathing you in as his heart rate slowed in his chest.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” you asked, laying your hand gently on his crotch, feeling him buck slightly into your touch beneath you.

“No baby, I wanna do this right, take ya out first, if y’don’t mind.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to, I mean-”

Joel snapped open his eyes and stood up looking at you, furrowing his brows. He then shook his head and said “don't”, and walked over to the sink in the corner of the room to wash his hands. You sat up, chewing on your lip, overthinking things once again. After a moment of silence you heard him speak when he shut the water off.

“I'm not some 20 year old punk ass boy who only cares about getting his own rocks off, darlin'. I don't do that sort of thing. Now, if you don't want to have dinner with me, then that's fine. But I'd really like to take y’out.”

“Like a date?” You asked, looking into his eyes hopeful.

“Yes baby, like a date.” He said, standing in front of you, holding a robe up for you to take to cover your naked body up.

“Yeah, but what happens when I- when we- when it's done? Or what happens if I can't because of this- because of autoimmune?” you say, motioning your hand up and down at your body.

Joel took a big breath in, and then slowly let it out through his nose. He then cupped your face with both hands and said, “ok, I'm gonna stop you right there. First, I don't fuck on the first date, ok, so don't worry your pretty lil’ head about it. And second, I don't give a damn if we have to reschedule. I understand you have autoimmune disease, remember I've read your file.” Joel immediately winced at that reminder, of how he has crossed every line in the sand with his actions. He didn't know how he was going to explain to Dr. Samson that his treatment wouldn't work with you and that he was going to refer you to Dr. Anderson. It was going to cost him big time, he knew that. Dr. Linda Anderson wouldn't just drop it, she'd want an explanation. But Joel couldn't think about that right now, he'd deal with it and her later.

“But Joel it's-”

“Do you not want to go out to dinner with me?” He asked, the color draining from him face. Did he read you wrong? Were you just looking for a quick orgasm and nothing more? He rubbed his neck in embarrassment, thinking he completely fucked up at your signals once again. “You-uh, you don't have to say yes if you don't want to. I mean, if I read you wrong you can- uh, no pressure to say no.” He was internally scolding himself at this entire situation, of how much he's fucked up today. His ex-wife was right, he thought, he definitely doesn’t understand what women need nor want. Proof was here, right in front of him, with your reluctance to say yes to just dinner.

Joel turned to walk out, mumbling “I'll give you some privacy to get dressed. I'll tell Ashley to give you a refund when I see her tomorrow, don’t worry, she’s already left for the day. And you can just forget about today if you want, if I made you feel uncomfortable. I’ll sorry, I just-”

“Stop, please,” you said, grabbing his arm. “Don't leave. Everyone does, everyone leaves me. I-I want you to stay with me right now, please.”

Joel stopped and looked at you, seeing the gears in your head turning. After a moment he said, “please honey, ya gotta tell me what you're thinking. I can't-”

“I want to go out on a date with you Joel, it's just, don't have high expectations or hopes for me, ok? Men do, and then as they get to know me they- they get mad when I don't meet something that they wanted. I- this- it’s hard ok? It’s hard ‘cause I have a gorgeous man in front of me that I've been attracted to since the moment I saw him, and all I want is for him to see me. To really see me. And I- I don’t wanna fuck that all up where you hate me, or think I’m a failure and I- I should just really stop talking.” You said, laughing at yourself and blushing at the fact that you just spilled all of your insecurities in the air to a stranger. A very hot stranger, but a stranger nevertheless.

“Honey,” he said, grabbing your hand softly. “I want all that too and, if I'm being honest, I'm a little scared of a date too as it's been a long time since I've done this. The whole dating thing, it hasn’t been a priority of mine for a while. But I wanna do it f’you, with you. We can take it slow, we can figure it out together, ok? How does that sound?” Joel then leaned in and gave you a soft, delicate kiss on your lips, one that immediately calmed your nerves.

“Ok, yes. Dinner would be great,” you said, a tad breathless after Joel pulled away from kissing you. You took a moment to compose yourself, to will the butterflies to calm down in your tummy at the thought of getting a chance to have a date with this man.

Joel watched the blush rise up in your cheeks, and if he was being honest, it flattered the hell out of him. That a simple gentle kiss could get you all hot and bothered, where you were blushing for him. “Ok, good,” he said, smiling. “How about I pick you up around 6pm this Saturday?”

You nodded your head, and noticed that Joel furrowed his brows at the lack of your speaking to him again. You quickly said, “Saturday would be perfect.”

Joel stood there for a moment, glancing over your features, looking at you intently, making sure that you in fact truly wanted this. Once he found what he was looking for, he stepped back and gave you a small smirk.

“Ok, darlin’. Now for life's biggest, and most important question. What toppings do y’like on your Pizza?” Joel decided to take you to his favorite pizza place on Saturday. When he saw you smile, he knew that he picked a good choice.

“Well Miller,” you said, while giving him your best playful smirk. “You’re just going to have to take me out to find out.”

End of Part 1

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#we all need happily ever after #joel miller fanfiction #health issues journey #joel miller

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starry-eyes-love · 30 days

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Well welcome to the fam, same here with having an autoimmune disorder. All I know is Dr. Miller can come over anytime, especially at night in my dreams. That was where this one was created from 🫢❤️