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#dom!joel
mybworlds · 22 hours
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Sex with stranger, p. 2 one-shot
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: You, your beautiful sociolinguistic teacher, in his office.
rating: 18+ MDNI
warning tags: porn with lil plot, no use of Y/N, no outbreak, use of 'you', age difference not specified, smut, use of pet name, dirty talk, f & m masturbation, unprotected P in V, oral m & f receiving, if I miss smt please write me.
Before to start... it wasn't supposed to be a sort of second part of my previous one-shot, but I woke up with this idea and here it is, I don't know what came out of it, I hope it doesn't suck.
Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner
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How the fuck is this even possible?
You keep telling yourself, as you try to take notes as much as you can while straining to forget that you are listening to the man you fucked and he fucked you not even two hours ago and that fucking man is your professor, that professor, not just anybody, your sociolinguistics professor and now how the fuck are you going to follow his next classes and take the exam?
Is he going to be thinking the same thing?
Hard to say, he has an impenetrable look, his words roll off his mouth with a fluidity that enchants you, you should forget that with that mouth he addressed you quite vulgar words and even licked your nipples, you sit in the chair feeling uncomfortable taking notes on Saussure and structuralism.
"Well, class is over. But if ya need clarification, I’m in my office. The door is at the bottom left, thank ya." says Dr Miller dismissing you, as he begins to arrange the books and papers he showed in class.
Everyone goes down the stairs, someone comes to him to ask when he receives, others just to thank him for the class, you stay in the middle of the stairs holding the book and the notebook to your chest, you have to tell him that his class was enlightening? Or you must be as cocky as you were in the elevator?
You used to be allowed to be, you fucked a stranger, but now that you know you fucked Dr Miller is different, does that affect your college GPA? You’re gonna fail on this regardless?
"Class is over." says a voice, his own, bringing you back to reality "D' ya want some clarification?"
Do you want it? Yes.
" Yes." you just answer looking him in the eye.
"Well, follow me," he tells you taking his bag and walking out of the classroom, you follow him. He doesn't say anything nor do you know what to say to him, your footsteps echo in the hallway, you pass a few students from time to time, and Dr. Miller waves to colleagues by raising his hand in greeting. You arrive in front of a door on which there is a plaque with his name on it, you see him slip the key into the lock, turn it, and finally open the door.
"Come in," he says to you and you comply. The office interior is extremely formal, clean and neat just as he looks, you turn back to him and see him turn the key, when he looks up he realizes that you are watching him "So no one bothers us," he adds by way of clarification, you nod.
"It doesn't bother you…" you are about to say, but your words get stuck as you see him move closer to you and close the distance between you and him, he pounces on your lips as with his hands he slides your jacket down your arms again.
"No," he answers you guessing your question, "in fact it turns me on even more." he says towering above you.
For a moment you wonder if he fucked other students before and then dumped them and flunked the exam and that's why they call him a bastard or an asshole, but you don't have time to wonder because feeling his moist lips on your neck makes you stop thinking.
"Aren't you afraid someone will hear us?" you ask him, closing your eyes as he fumbles with the buttons on your shirt, moving away from your neck and looking into your eyes.
"D' ya want clarification on today’s lesson, right?" he asks and you guess the game.
"Yes." you reply swallowing.
He leaves you another quick kiss on your lips, then says, as he unzips your skirt "Well, tell me about the notes you took," you are already almost completely naked in his eyes and speaking will be very difficult "I know you have a good memory, I'm listening." he adds starting to kiss you on your breasts still covered by your bra feeling your nipples hardening in response to his mouth.
You close your eyes and swallow feeling your heartbeat going fast "Saussure is considered the father of modern linguistics, he was born in Gen…" it's so difficult to concentrate on your words when his mouth is on your breasts and his hands on your hips holding you still against his desk "Geneva" you manage to say biting your lower lip "in 1857 and died in 1913, he was a linguist and semiotician, he's most famous for his study of structuralism…" you interrupt yourself because he makes you sit on his desk and lay down, oh God… you will never be able to speak if he…
"Go on." he says lowering your briefs showing you to him, he brings your legs over his shoulders and you stare at the ceiling without really doing so, you close your eyes and swallow and then resume "He proposes the study of the language understanding" your voice rises a pitch as you feel his fingers open your folds and his tongue explore inside you "Oh, fuck! " escapes you as you feel his tongue inside you and touching that little bundle of nerves with his angular nose, a louder moan escapes your lips and he pulls away from you "As much as I love to hear you, you must be quiet." he admonishes you looking into your eyes veiled with desire "Rather, you were saying that Saussure proposed the study of the language as an autonomous system, right?" you nod looking at him "Well, go on," he adds lowering himself between your legs again taking you back to let you see stars behind your closed eyes from the strong pleasure you are experiencing.
"It is a system of signs that emphasize the system rather than the individual elements, in fact…. " you stop and a sigh escapes from your lips, feeling his expert tongue fumbling in your folds and his hands on your hips make you gasp, your vision blurring, as you feel the orgasm mounts more and more over you, his hands that reach your breasts freeing them from the bra cups and begin to tease deliciously your nipples turning and twisting them between his fingertips are a coup de grace, you come pressing your hand on your mouth.
Fuck, you came between his lips and it was beautiful.
He helps you sit up on the desk and kisses you overwhelmingly, feeling your arousal on his tongue sends more rushes of pure lust down your spine.
"Are you turned on too?" you ask him looking in his eyes.
He grins, "Judge for yourself." he replies, you look down and see it, it's still covered by his pants, but his huge erection is clearly visible.
"You're making me wet again," you say slipping a hand through his dark hair and kissing him again "You're way overdressed," you add as you begin to undress him by getting off the desk.
"I thought you wanted clarification," he tells you as you slip off his shirt and then move to the waistband of his pants.
"You just gave 'em to me," you say looking at him with a complicit grin, "You are so big," you add as you fully release his erection.
"Seeing and hearing you come turns me on," he confesses.
"And what else turns you on?" you ask as you kneel down and look up into his face.
"Right now?" he asks looking down to you.
"Right now, generally," you urge him, kissing his mushroom tip of his cock and licking along his evident vein.
"Have power over others, see a beautiful girl kneeling in front of me as you are doing now, take you from behind, see the effect I have on you, I want to see your face while I fuck you this time." he responds panting as you begin to suck and lick his huge erection, it's wonderful.
You place your hands on his hips as you begin to pump his erection feeling it if possible grow even bigger between your lips, he begins to moan softly and this sends more rushes of lust making you even wetter.
"How many blowjobs have you had in your life?" he asks as he slips a hand through your hair and pushes your head even further toward him, you are almost afraid of choking, but at the moment you don't care. You look up at the totally distorted features of his face and that pushes you to suck and lick even harder, he moans and growls louder and louder until he puts his hands in your hair letting out a long loud moan, "I'm gonna..." he tries to say, but you know what he wants to say, streams of hot seed invade your mouth and partly on the sides of your mouth, you moan swallowing every drop of him.
"Oh, fuck." he groans closing his eyes.
You turn your lips away from his cock breathing deeply, then he helps you up and takes you to a couch where he makes you lie down. You open your legs to welcome him and he immediately accepts your invitation, he lays his hands on the sides of your head caging you, but you are not at all afraid nor do you pull back, you are too involved, you want to feel him sink inside you. He kisses you languidly a couple of times, then probes your intimacy with his fingers feeling how ready you are for him, you moan closing your eyes.
Oh his hands are so expert.
He kisses your neck while he touches your pussy with three fingers, you moans louder and louder.
"I knew it was even hotter see your face while I was fucking you, little girl." you can't reply, all you can do is receive his touch and feeling your orgasm mount again.
He replaces his finger with his cock inside you. Both of you hold your breath as his cock sinks easily into your flesh.
"You are so soft and so wet," he whispers to your ear.
"You are so big, fuck," you whisper biting your lower lip.
He immediately starts pumping fast inside you, you don't think you will last long, your vision is blurred and you moan without restraint forgetting what he told you earlier, but he does the same, he tries unsuccessfully to stifle his moans and expletives.
Suddenly, Joel holds you by the back of your neck and tilts your head down to make you watch while he fucked you.
It's too much, you're fucked out.
You see his eyes become darker as he looks at your face, your watering eyes and your tits wince at his thrusts.
His thrusts are stronger, deeper as he buries his cock between your soaked folds.
“I love your cunt, 's so tight, so wet for me.” he says while the only noises you hear are his cock sucked in and out of you and his heavy balls against you.
You're totally fucked out, brain foggy as you stare up at him with glazed eyes.
"Oh, fuck I'm cumming." he warns you in a broken voice.
You wrap him by tightening your legs against his hips and making him if possible sink even deeper inside you "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you curse again and again as you feel streams of his hot seed invade you again while you surround his neck with your arms.
You moan in unison as you close your eyes.
"You are an incredible fuck," he comments with his eyes closed placing his sweaty forehead against yours. You would like to retort something, anything, but at the moment words fail you, "Come to me whenever you want."
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So I’ve kinda become a little bit obsessed with hunter/prey games…
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atticrissfinch · 8 days
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Pigtails (18+)
oneshot | (joel miller x reader)
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[moodboard for aesthetic purposes only] thank you @saradika-graphics for the perfect dividers <3
pairing: daddydom!joel miller x fem!reader summary: A snapshot of your life with your daddy dom, Joel Miller ❤️ warnings/tags:  [18+ MINORS DNI] established relationship, ddlg dynamic, consensual and explicit ageplay between adults (including childish activities, language, and behaviors), daddy!kink, praise!kink, light degradation!kink, size!kink, brief tummy bulge kink, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, body-marking, cockwarming, unprotected piv, referring to reader’s pussy as her “kitten/kitty”, reader has hair that is long enough to braid word count: ~7.5K | ao3 a/n: the girls who get it, get it. if you know you’re gonna be pissed off by or given the ick from this, then don’t read it. or do, and you can waste time jorkin ur peanits to your righteous rage. either one. but if I have to read one more puritanical text post blatantly kinkshaming taboo subjects in fiction, [frankie voice] i’m fucking killing people. that being said, if this is for you, then I hope you enjoy and/or I hope you feel seen 🥰
Masterlist | Kofi
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My old man is a tough man, but He got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam And he shows me, he knows me lana del rey // off to the races
--
You’re cuddled up on the floor in the space between the coffee table and the couch, cloaked in a blanket with your dinosaur stuffie snug in your arms. The television is alight and dancing with color when the front door unlocks to reveal Joel.
You squeak in excitement, choking your dinosaur a little harder than is probably comfortable for him when you see Joel step through the doorway and kick off his boots.
“Daddy!” you shout, bouncing on the carpet as he makes his way over to you with the broadest grin on his face.
“Hey, babygirl,” he greets you with his arms open wide for you, and you fling the fleece throw behind you, hopping up off the floor and into his chest, his embrace worlds better than any blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He lets out a small oof at the impact in jest, winding his arms as tight around you as he dares without squeezing the life out of your sparkling eyes.
“Missed you,” you mumble into his t-shirt, your hands barely clasping together at his back with the thickness of his waist.
“Missed you too, little bug,” he assures, planting a sturdy kiss to your forehead. “But it was only eight hours.”
“Too long,” you argue, nuzzling into his shirt to capture the heady scent of him, fresh from his worksite.
“I know, little bug. You don’t like when daddy’s gone. But he’s gotta make money so he can keep you flush in Crayola, baby,” he says, bending his knees the slightest bit to swipe a Magenta crayon off the coffee table. He taps the tip of it on your nose in a staccato rhythm as he smiles down at you, and your eyes cross to follow it. “These don’t grow on trees, you know.”
You roll your eyes and pinch his side. “I know that, daddy. They come from the store.”
Joel chuckles and boops your nose once more with the crayon before dropping it amongst its siblings on the table. His focus shifts to your hair and his mouth parts in a gasp as he tugs lightly at one of your pigtails. “Look at these. Did you do these all by yourself, baby?”
You preen, a smile bursting across your cheeks as you nod vigorously.
“They’re so precious, little bug. You did such a good job! Look at these little bows!”
“You like them?”
“I love them, baby. Givin’ daddy all sorts of ideas.”
You scrunch your eyebrows together. “Ideas?”
“Mmhm,” Joel hums, jerking your ponytail again. “Playtime ideas.”
You look up at him in excitement, wonder. “I like your playtime ideas.”
“I know you do, babygirl,” Joel coos, cupping your chin and smoothing down the center of it with his thumb. “And daddy loves having playtime with you.”
“Can we play now?” you ask, pleading with your eyes.
Joel gives you a soft smile and strokes your chin again. “Maybe in a little bit. Daddy needs a little respite. He had an exhausting day.”
“Respite?”
“Means ‘break’. Gotta build up your vocabulary a bit more, little bug,” he teases, planting a kiss on your meticulously parted hair.
“Respite,” you repeat measuredly, prolonging the first letter and feeling it vibrate in your mouth, and landing hard on the t sound to finish.
“That’s right, baby.”
“Can we respite together, daddy?”
Joel grins at you with affection and squishes your cheek. “How about you hunker back down, finish that pretty little picture, and daddy will have a quick rest.”
“Okay, daddy,” you concede after another kiss to your head, sliding to your knees and sitting on your heels, utilizing Joel’s long leg as a downward guide. You coil an arm around his calf a bit stubbornly as you pick up a crayon and start back in on your abandoned art piece, leaning your forehead against the denim.
“Alright, tiny trouble,” he laughs, jiggling his leg in your would-be iron clasp. “I’ll be right on the couch. Have you between my legs. C’mon.”
You whine, but loosen your grip, and Joel drops onto the center of the couch, bending forward. “Scooch, little bug,” he directs, pulling backward on your pigtails, telling you where to go. You giggle and scoot back against the front of the couch, settling between the spread of his legs as he hauls the table closer to follow you. With the table as close to Joel’s knees as it can get, he winds his socked feet around your waist, locking his ankles at your stomach.
“Daddy!” you scold playfully, bucking forward to try and break free, but to no avail. “I can’t move!”
“Don’t need to be wigglin’ like a little worm to get some drawin’ done, baby,” he chuckles, but with one more sharp look back from you he yanks your pigtail again and releases you.
“Thank you,” you reply in acknowledgment of your freedom, attempting to sound as refined as possible, before you tuck your arm around his calf once more, plop your stuffie into your lap, and take up your doodling again.
You hear the pop of Joel’s joints, the crack of his neck,
the groans signaling his routine post-work stretches. He punctuates the chorus of sound with a drawn-out sigh as he settles and sinks into the cushions.
“Can I change the channel, baby?”
You glance up to the television, back down to your drawing, then back up. “I suppose.”
“You’re so kind, babydoll,” he jokes, snatching up the remote from the table and tapping through until he settles on a more warm-toned, leisurely-paced show.
You immerse yourself in colors, fleshing out bare bones with indigo and cerulean and carnation pink, integrating splashes of goldenrod and cornflower blue.
Joel grunts as he sits up on the couch and taps your arm. “Gotta detach for a sec, baby barnacle. I’ll be right back.”
You hum and obey, gifting him his leg back and hearing him pad off toward the kitchen for a moment before returning with clinking noises in tow. A clear glass full of pale pink is set next to your paper with a straw jutting from it as Joel resituates himself on the couch with his own tinkling glass. You don’t even need to look to know it’s whiskey with two ice cubes. Always pink lemonade for you, whiskey for him. The predictability is a comfort. One of many you’ve established thus far in your relationship.
You sip through your straw with a sing-songy hum, bopping your head a little with unrestrained contentment, and Joel breathes a laugh through his nose before you hear him sip his own beverage.
Your interest in your drawing wanes once more as you find yourself entranced by the screen. You don’t really know what’s happening, but you rest your head on your arm atop the coffee table and watch lazily, the scent of crayon wax drifting up your nose.
“Can we play yet?” you pout, your cheek pressed against your forearm.
“Barely been ten minutes, baby.”
“But I’ve waited, like, ten hours.”
“Eight hours, and daddy played with your kitten this morning before he left for work. Didn’t he?”
You huff out a stubborn, noncommittal groan.
“Didn’t he, babygirl?” Joel urges more assertively, prodding your side with his big toe.
He’s not lying. He had played with you this morning. You’ve gotten so used to Joel’s alarm that his sunrise ritual fails to even impact you. You sleep through the nauseating jingle from his phone every morning, and Joel gives no fuss over it. He’s always insisted that your beauty sleep is the most important thing to him. Although, you’re fairly positive that by “beauty sleep” he just means “enough sleep to ward off your notorious crankiness”.
But this morning was one of his special mornings, for no other reason than he woke up insatiably horny and he wanted you and you’ve both agreed he has permission. So you were startled from your slumber by the wet, impatient drag of Joel’s tongue through your folds, getting you off in mere minutes. Being the shamelessly smitten daddy that he is, it took significantly less time before he was jerking off to completion all over the silky fabric of your pink, lace-trimmed nightgown. Your favorite one — the one with the little white bow between your breasts. But, already privy to the fact that it’s your favorite, he tossed it in the washer for a delicate cycle before he left, promising it would emerge unscathed. And if it didn’t, he’d buy you three more just like it.
Knowing him, he’ll end up buying you three more regardless.
But you were tired this morning when you came on his mouth, so you hardly remember it. It certainly feels like it’s been at least a day since Joel got you off. And whether it actually has been or not, you see it as Joel’s problem to fix.
“Yes, you did play with my kitten this morning,” you admit grumpily, picking up a crayon and doodling a lazy flower in the corner of your page.
Joel gives a disapproving tut. “Check the attitude, little bug. Pouty girls don’t get their way, do they?”
“Only because you don’t let me…” you argue back, accenting your flower with little hearts.
His ice rattles behind you as he says, “Sure as hell don’t. Daddy has rules for a reason. You don’t get rewards for bein’ pouty.”
“Wouldn’t be pouty if you let me play with you.”
You can practically hear his eyes rolling as he says, “Alright, sassypants. If I wanted to run around in circles with you, I’d be singin’ Ring Around the Rosie. And daddy ain’t singin’, is he?”
You lift your head to hazard a glance back at Joel, and his face is stern, brows shot up in expectation of an answer. You wriggle slightly under the concentrated heat of his stare and you feel your obstinance wilting. With his eyes burrowing into you with insistence, you finally mutter, “No, sir.”
“No, sir,” he repeats in emphasis with a nod. But then his face begins to soften. He leans forward, shifting the table back again to its rightful spot, aligning the feet with the matching compressed indents in the carpet. He tosses back the remains of his drink and sets it on the side table as he stands up, looking down on you at his feet as you gaze admirably, anticipatingly up at him.
As he reaches a hand down to stroke down your hair and run his fingers through your gathered strands, he sighs. “You’re so goddamn lucky you make daddy weak at the knees. Ain’t nobody else gets away with as much shit with me as you do.”
You bask in his touch, cocking your head to the side as you look up at him with a subtle smug smile.
Joel shakes his head good-naturedly and jostles your chin quickly, gently in his grip as you giggle. He feigns austerity with furrowed brows as he says, “Don’t you talk to any of my men. By the end of the day I wouldn’t be able to manage so much as a get back to work without cavin’ in like a house o’cards.”
“Don’t wanna talk to anyone but you, daddy,” you assure him, sliding a hand around his ankle and giving it a squeeze.
“That’s my girl,” he smiles, fixing a firmer grip onto one of your pigtails and doing one sharp, deliberate yank — hard enough to feel your scalp prickle and have your neck jerk back. A breathy, throaty moan floats from your mouth at the strength of him, and also from knowing that this little show of aggressive dominance is an indicator that he’s transitioning from nice daddy to…well, really nice daddy. Your favorite kind of daddy.
Joel twirls your hair around one of his fingers. “Daddy really likes these, baby.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmhm,” Joel hums, marveling at the way your hair wraps around him. “A naughtier daddy might call them…handlebars.”
Confusion crosses your face as you look up at him. “Handlebars? Like on my bike?”
Joel nods, taking a pigtail in each hand and sliding them through his palms until he’s gripping their ends. “Like on your bike. You want daddy to take you for a little ride? Direct you where to go?”
“Yes, please, daddy.”
Joel smiles down at you fondly, holding your pigtails out to the sides of your head. You giggle and beam at him, but you can see the strain of his cock through his jeans in your periphery.
“Where should I go first?” you ask innocently as he lets your hair drop.
“How about right here,” he says, cupping a hand over his crotch and squeezing.
Your fingers dance in your lap excitedly. “Playtime?”
“Playtime,” he affirms as his fingers work at his jeans.
You pop up fully onto your knees in preparation, your hands gliding over the denim concealing his legs — but no longer his dick, much to your fortune. He’s finally revealed to your greedy eyes, and you feel yourself responding to the new development. Your mouth begins to moisten, your pussy giving a resounding pulse along with a flood of warmth.
With no preamble at the sight of him, you say, “Put it inside, daddy.”
Joel gives you a playful smirk, letting his cock rise and fall heavily in his grip. “Inside where? Hmm? Should I put it…” he takes a firmer hold of himself and taps it on your upper lip, “Should I put it in your nose?”
He bounces the head of his cock once on the tip of your nose with a chuckle and you giggle back, shaking your head. “No, daddy! It wouldn’t fit up there!”
“Hmm,” Joel ponders, pulling at himself gratuitously. He cradles your chin in his hand as he strokes. “I can think of somewhere else you didn’t think it would fit, babygirl. Do you remember that?”
You bite your lip and smile. “Yes, daddy, I remember.”
“And you were very, very wrong, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was, daddy.”
“And daddy’s proved you were wrong about that a bunch of times since, hasn’t he?”
“Yes, you have, daddy.”
Joel crouches down to your level and pinches your nose playfully in his fingers with a grin. “Don’t worry. Daddy doesn’t really think it’ll fit up your nose. He’s just bein’ silly.”
You stick your tongue out at him and giggle. “I like you silly, daddy.”
“And daddy likes bein’ silly with you, little bug,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He pushes himself off his thighs back to his full height and takes his cock in hand again, thumbing the slickness at his tip around the head and down the delicate skin to facilitate the slide.
“You’re so pretty, daddy,” you marvel at him as his hand strokes the hard length of him, already glistening at the tip.
“You think daddy’s pretty, baby?”
“I do.”
Joel’s eyelids drift with arousal as he pulls at his cock under your watchful stare. “Well, daddy thinks his little girl is very pretty. Pretty hair, pretty dress, pretty bows, pretty smile. You wanna show me what that pretty smile can do for daddy?”
“Can I?”
A smile teases at Joel’s mouth. “Can you?”
You sigh with an edge of frustration. “May I?”
“Yes, you may, baby.”
The first taste is always your favorite. The hit of his musk, the tang of his precome, the rasp of the moan Joel grinds out like clockwork when your mouth closes around his head, his eyelids falling closed heavily in tandem.
One of your hands raises to tangle in the hair at his base, damp with the sweat of his workday — a tangible reminder of all he does for you and all he allows you to be. He works so hard, all so he can come home and play just as hard with you. You love hearing the appreciation, the pride in his voice and in his sounds when you do exactly as he’s taught you. The first circling of your lips around him that has his stress and troubles melting at the slide of your mouth.
“Perfect, babygirl,” he sighs, smoothing over the hair on your head as you suck at his tip, lapping at the droplets from his slit. Your free hand comes up to hold the base of him as he slips from your mouth.
“Popsicle?” you inquire with glistening lips.
Joel inhales through his nose, his eyes closed in bliss, and nods at the ceiling. “Yeah, baby. You can do the popsicle.”
Your grin glows as you stick your tongue out as far as you can get it and free the underside from the coverage of your fingers before licking him with the flat of your tongue from root to tip. Joel sighs in contentment as you lick up the length of him over and over, alternating between finishing off with a suck to his head and just letting him leak and twitch with the lack of attention.
“Torturin’ daddy here, baby,” he groans, taking up a solid grip on one of your pigtails and tugging. “Daddy needs a little more.”
You laugh quietly, encasing his tip in your mouth and sliding down further, up and down to silently beg his forgiveness.
“Just like that, little bug, you got it,” he encourages, taking a loose hold on each of your pigtails, just a soft reminder of his guiding presence as you devour him.
Saliva pools at the corners of your mouth as you stroke him with your lips, your tongue, the insides of your cheeks. He moans in approval as he tickles at the back of your throat.
“Take it deep, babygirl. Take it how daddy likes it.”
He still burns. Even after the countless times you’ve pushed past your body’s warning barrier and allowed him to rob you of your breath. It’s much milder than it used to be, but the stretch of him tingles as you constrict around him. The thick head massages the walls of your throat as Joel shallowly thrusts inside of it. He’s so good, has so much control, knows exactly how much you can take. He’s so in tune with both your voluntary and involuntary reactions, able to identify the precise moment in which your body really starts to reject him. He knows how long he can push it, stretch it, stretch you until you can’t any longer.
And when he releases you, when the air rushes into your lungs and you cough with the rawness and accumulated spit, he looks down at you like you’ve just offered your life to him. And in a way, you are. You sacrifice your ease of breathing for him, your tether to this world with him. He tugs on it, strains it, frays it, because he knows what you’re willing to give him. And he gives you so much, indulges this fantasy with you, works his fingers to bone for you. And you adore how he lets you repay him.
He pulls at your hair, coaxes your watery eyes to his, and says, “One more, babygirl.”
You nod and open for him.
He lands warm and heavy on your tongue, pressing deep, past your natural barrier, welcoming him into the place only he can reach. Your nose runs, your lips stretch, and your tongue wriggles at the underside of him as he grunts his measured thrusts with his hands twirling your pigtails between his fingers.
“Good girl, so tight. Chokin’ daddy’s cock while he chokes you right back, huh?” He says, voice strained with exertion and restraint.
You vibrate around him with a moan, and he groans in response, pulling you off his cock before he prematurely cuts your playtime short. You gasp for air against his thigh as he strokes at your head, his own chest heaving as his cock jerks with longing.
“Such a good fuckin’ girl. You a good girl for daddy?”
You nod into his leg with reedy breaths, pressing your fingers into his jeans to feel him flex under you — a comforting reassurance that he’s solid and present.
A hand slips from your head down your arm as he slowly crouches to your level and captures a kiss from your lips. He rests his forehead against yours and whispers, “Head into the bedroom, okay? I’ll be right there.”
He eases you to your feet, retrieves your stuffie to rehome it into your arms, and gives a light spank to your ass to kickstart you in his desired direction. You trip over your feet clumsily, but make it to the bed, climbing on top to wait for him.
Joel reappears in the doorway with his cock bobbing out of his pants and a glass of water in his hand.
“Drink,” he instructs, passing it off to you.
“I had lemonade.”
“Before daddy got rough during playtime. Drink,” he insists again, pulling his shirt off his shoulders and tossing it into the hamper. He’s always careful to set a good example for you, show you where things go. And as eager as you are for him to show you where he can go, you cave and sip at the cold water. You know how he gets when you misbehave or become obstinate.
And you want to be a good girl.
By the time you’ve sucked down the full glass, Joel is naked and crawling up the bed. He sets the empty glass on the side table for you and grabs at your waist from behind, inhaling deeply in the crook of your neck.
“How’s your throat feel?”
“Little scratchy,” you rasp quietly. “But good. Like feeling you there.”
“Daddy likes bein’ there,” he says, pulling your skin into his mouth and sucking, sucking, sucking until he’s pleased and you’re blooming with color on your neck. He loves leaving marks on you, pressing his fingertips into the bruises he paints on your body, matching his palms to the imprints he spanks into you. You love feeling like a work of art at his rough-hewn, yet deft hands.
The suction on your skin has a chill running through your bones, but heat through your blood. Wetness gathers in your panties at his prolonged attention, your pussy throbbing in time with your heart, desperate for him to notice her. Joel’s fingers push at the hem of your dress, rucking it up your hips to rid you of your daisy-patterned underwear. You’re quick to assist, lifting your legs as needed with no prompting from him. The scrap of soiled fabric sails through the air in a makeshift ball, landing perfectly atop Joel’s discarded clothes in the basket.
You’d usually compliment his well-placed shot, but he’s jerking you back by your hips before you can utter anything more than a yelp. Your ass slides up the slope of his thighs as he sits on his heels at your back, his hard cock sandwiched between your bodies.
“Mmm,” Joel hums, taking your hair into each hand and smoothing down the length of them. “Daddy wants to do something for you. Will you let me?”
“Anything you want daddy,” you breath out in anticipation, head tilting back as he strokes the strands.
His lips kiss the middle part at the back of your head and he says, “Hurry and grab daddy a couple of those tiny rubber bands for your hair.”
“Elastics, daddy,” you correct him.
“Elastics, that’s right, baby. Will you do that for daddy?”
“Why?” you pout with impatience, grinding back onto his cock.
He barely contains the grunt you pull from him as he says, “Don’t ask questions, baby. Now scuttle off, little bug.”
You groan, but waddle on your knees off the bed, and scurry to the bathroom to retrieve what he requested. You hold them up triumphantly, and he smiles proudly at you as he holds his hand out.
“Thank you, baby.”
You take hold of his wrist and roll the two small, clear elastics down his pinky finger.
“Back up here,” he pats his lap again, and you scoot up his thighs again, but this time his cock is poised downward by his own hand. “That’s a good girl. Hold still.”
Confused and curious, you allow him to angle your hips up slightly until you feel the head of his cock prodding at your entrance.
“Now sit down on daddy.”
You always gasp when he fills you for the first time. It’s always a good kind of pressure, a satisfactory kind of stretch. And he fits better inside you than anything else ever has. You sink down onto his cock with purposeful patience, feeling every inch until he bottoms out and your ass hits the top of his thighs.
“Good girl, little bug,” he groans as you clench your walls around the entirety of him. You go to raise your hips, but he stops you with a hand on your waist, pinning you in place. “Stay still for me.”
“Daddy…” you whine, wiggling your hips as much as he’ll allow before the short curve of his nails dig into your waist, that indicates a hard stop from him. You give a small huff, but you go still in his lap.
“No whining, baby. Just sit on daddy’s cock for a second,” he says firmly. His hands come together at the crown of one of your pigtails, and you feel some light pulling.
“Daddy?”
“Shhh, baby,” he orders, his hands working swiftly through your hair. It doesn’t take much longer for you to deduce what he’s doing.
He’s braiding.
And once you identify the motions, you can visualize them perfectly. He winds the three sections over one another in a practiced weaving that begins to soothe you with their rhythmic pull.
He shifts his body and his cock bumps up against the deepest part of you. All at once you’re reminded of how much of him is crammed inside you, just lying in wait. You whimper as you fight to keep your hips in line, battling between the therapeutic movement of his hands in your hair and the heft of his cock holding you open.
Harsher tugs prick at your scalp as Joel’s thick fingers work to tie off the braid with the finicky elastic, but when he finishes the first one, he brushes a kiss onto the end of it before starting in on the next one.
A pulse and twitch runs through Joel’s cock within your body’s grip, and you whine again. “Daddy, please!”
“Patience, little bug,” he orders again, but the barely concealed laughter in his voice tells you that he definitely did that on purpose. Reminding you who is in charge again.
“You’re torturing me now,” you complain as Joel separates your hair for the second braid.
“Tit for tat, babygirl.”
“Huh?”
Joel exhales a laugh and gives your strands a light yank. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just sit tight for daddy. Sit real tight for daddy.”
“I am,” you say stubbornly, deliberately tensing around his cock.
Joel grunts, pausing his movements until you settle down again. “Daddy’s almost done, baby. I said be patient please.”
But your patience is wearing thin. He’s been toying with you since he got home and it is wildly unfair.
Your dinosaur lies bored next to you on the bed, so you scoop him up. You situate him right between your thighs, the fuzzy material soft against your clit. You sigh at the barest amount of pressure where you’re so needy, and your hips grind forward toward the gentle pleasure. A tiny whimper bubbles in your throat and Joel’s fingers stop again.
“Baby, what are you doin’?” He asks, peering around your shoulder. “Oh, baby, that’s…you’re gonna get him all messy like that. Pussy’s droolin’ all over me, you’re gonna get him dirty.”
“Then touch me,” you whine, rolling your clit against your stuffie again.
“Alright,” Joel says, his voice shifting to a more disciplinary tone as his hand reaches between your legs and grabs hold of the plushie. “We’re not doin’ this.”
Joel plucks your dinosaur from between your legs, and you feebly reach after it as he tosses him up the bed as you let out a pathetic little “No!”
“Nuh-uh. Daddy said stay still and be patient. Did daddy say that?”
You pout as Joel’s hands grip your thighs and spread you open wider on his lap, nudging his cock deeper inside you.
“Answer me, little girl,” he orders, his voice dangerously low and his fingers flexing into the flesh of your thighs.
“Yes,” you mutter.
“Yes, what, little girl?”
You sigh stubbornly. “Yes, daddy. You said that.”
Joel tuts at your response and scolds, “What did I tell you about that attitude earlier? ‘Cus you’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’ right now, baby.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’ll sit still.”
“Good. Daddy’s almost done,” he says, releasing your legs and returning to your hair. You do your best to relax into it, appreciate the tease of his cock and the fuss of his fingers for a dreadfully tedious few minutes.
The second elastic snaps into place, and Joel makes a noise of satisfaction in his work. “There we go. Much easier for daddy to hold, huh?”
“Yeah,” you agree, falling back into his chest and burying your face into his neck.
“Aww, baby,” he croons, holding the back of your head. “Daddy’s so mean, isn’t he?”
“Very mean.”
“So mean that he lets your kitten play with daddy’s cock while he braids your hair for you?”
“More like holds my kitten hostage,” you reply grumpily.
“So what would you have daddy do, hmm?” Joel baits, prying your face from his neck to compel you to look at him. You blink at him expectantly, knowing he’s going to continue. “You want daddy to hold you down? Fuck your cute little kitten till she purrs?”
“Yes,” you say quietly, opting for a more humble tone as your pussy screams for attention from him.
“Yeah?” he repeats in gentle acknowledgment, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “You want daddy to make your kitty sore? That what you’ve been fiendin’ for all day?”
You just let you a tiny, dry sob and nod.
“Okay,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your forehead. “All fours, little bug. You know,” he says matter-of-factly, relinquishing his hold on you.
You sigh as he slips out of you and you get in position, swaying your ass tantalizingly for him where it peeks out under your dress.
“You’re so good at that, baby. All ready for daddy, huh?” he says, coming up behind you and shoving your dress halfway up your back to reveal you to him. His thumbs play at your core, parting your wet, puffy lips. “God, look at you, baby. You get all stretched out from sittin’ on daddy’s big cock?”
You whimper, dropping down to your elbows to serve yourself to him a little more shamelessly. His fingers fiddle with your lips, more maddeningly as the seconds tick by. You can feel how slick you are by the glide of his fingers, dipping into your opening and collecting what he’s made of you.
“Daddy, please,” you whine as calmly as you possibly can, your pussy feeling like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t fuck it in the next thirty seconds.
“Sorry baby,” Joel says, as though you’d just broken out of a trance. “Just so goddamn pretty. Spread your cheeks for daddy. Let me see your soaked little kitten.”
You shift yourself obediently, your face cradled by the bed as you gather the flesh of your ass in your hands and spread yourself open. A lustful groan leaves Joel at the sight, and that’s all it takes for him to line his cock up to your hole.
He sinks back in like a dream, but he feels so different from this angle. Less sharp, more full. You can tell he allows himself to feel it more this time, his deep, rumbling noises of pleasure much more expressive as he buries himself all the way inside you.
“Take my cock so well, baby. Look so goddamn good bent over for daddy like this. All drippy and spread open.”
Your whine hitches when the head of his cock breaches the end of you, and he chuckles at the tiny hiccup you make.
“Never get used to it, do you, baby? Daddy feeds you this cock over and over and it still surprises you how big he is?”
“Yes, daddy,” you moan, voice already wrecked with desperation as Joel pulls out and fucks back in, setting a hard and heavy pace.
“How about daddy tries out your little handlebars, huh?” Joel says, taking one of your braids in each hand. He gives a light pull and your head raises up until you’re faced with the rattling headboard. “That’s good. Just like that, baby.”
The roots of your hair tingle as he intermittently hauls your head back to reinforce his grip, and noises keep slipping from your lips as he does.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you, little bug?” Joel taunts with a smile in his voice. He grunts notably louder as he thrusts into you with renewed vigor, the draw of your wet heat luring him in as your cunt slickens in response to his grasp on your braids.
“Yeah,” is what you manage to squeak out as he pounds into you with enough ferocity that your hands drop from your cheeks just to stabilize yourself from face-planting into the sheets and ripping the hair from your head with the momentum. The move has his hips slapping against the plush of your ass lewdly as he pushes through you.
“Oh, fuck, baby. How are you so fuckin’ sexy? All for your daddy, huh? You a little slut for daddy? You knew these little pigtails would drive daddy fuckin’ wild, didn’t you? Naughty fuckin’ thing,” he babbles, drawing your braids tighter and tighter as his words push through the grit of his teeth.
Small, pained whines sneak out of your throat the harder he pulls until he gives one final, feral grunt and drops your braids to grip your hips and bury himself balls deep inside you. And if you didn’t know exactly how he feels when he spills inside you, you would think he was already coming.
Joel’s forehead drops to your spine, and you feel the hot cloy of his breath spread over your back as he attempts to catch it. He maintains the deep claim he has on your clenching pussy as he regulates his air intake.
“Fuck me,” he pants. “Jesus. Don’t want this over that quick. Daddy wants to stay warm in your little kitten a bit longer. Been waitin’ so long for it, haven’t you? Daddy’s gonna give you what you deserve, baby.”
He makes a grunt as he pulls out of you entirely and slaps the side of your thigh.
“Roll over for daddy.”
You flip onto your back and nestle among the pillows as Joel wipes at the sweat on his forehead. Joel cups the backs of your knees and forces them up and out until your pussy is completely unobstructed to Joel’s eyes.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he expresses in wonder as he drops to his stomach. “Hold your legs, baby.”
He doesn’t even wait for you to obey before his thumbs are pulling your lips wider and his mouth is descending on the wetness glistening from your opening. His tongue pierces through you and your moan is breathy and filled with gratitude.
“Fuck, daddy, that’s—”
Joel slips free of your warmth and peers up at you from between your legs with a stern look and a shining chin. “Language, little girl,” he scolds, following it up with a delicate, torturous jet of air aimed at your swollen cunt that makes your hips jump.
“‘M sorry, daddy,” you whimper, your nails biting into the backs of your knees in some subconscious form of self-punishment for causing him to stop eating you like a decadent dessert in the middle of dinner. “It’s just so—”
“I know, baby,” he breathes over your pussy, your hole fluttering with the cruel, feather-like attention, “I know. But be a good girl for me.”
You nod eagerly, spreading yourself wider in hopes of enticing him right back to where you’re desperate for him to return.
“Promise?” he lilts with a sincere gravity.
You wriggle one of your hands out until your wrist replaces it at the hinge of your knee instead. With equal sincerity, you extend your pinky out to him.
A smile teases at the corner of his mouth as he unburdens his own hand to hook a large pinky around yours, jostling them jauntily for a moment.
“Good girl,” he praises, bringing your attached hands toward him just until he can kiss the side of his fist, then granting you similar slack to repeat the action on your own hand to seal the deal.
With that, he slinks back down to your waiting pussy and dives back in. His mouth works sloppily, but so thoroughly as he sucks at the folds of your cunt. He makes his way up to your clit at a pace that feels positively glacial, and the little nub feels like it has its own heartbeat when his lips finally close around it.
The wet slick of his tongue, just from its first pass over your overactive clit, has it pulsing intensely with need inside his mouth.
“Daddy,” you moan, your voice cracking halfway through the word as he sucks on it with focused care. Two fingers penetrate your stretched hole with an ease that would be mortifying if it hadn’t been the result of Joel’s cock making room for itself inside you.
The effortless glide of his thick fingers has Joel moaning against you in turn, the vibration reverberating through your sensitive clit in such an unexpected shock that you’re crying out your release with startling quickness. Your hips jolt into his mouth as one of your hands slips from your leg to the sweat-dampened hair adorning his head, forcing him to stay where you need him until you’ve reached your limit.
Your hand goes slack as your overstimulated clit pulses weakly, and Joel floats his lips from your core to the soft skin where the curve of your ass meets your thigh. He nips there with his teeth and you keen, your hips twitching up again. He chuckles at you, soothing the mark with a kiss before sliding his hands over the backs of your thighs and maneuvering himself back up to his knees.
You can sense his eyes on you, even with your orgasm-induced fatigue drawing your eyelids over your vision. Indents form on the pillow either side of your head, and you feel the tap of his nose on your cheek before the fullness of his lips on yours. You tumble into it thoughtlessly, licking the taste of yourself from his mouth.
“So beautiful when you come for me, little one,” he whispers, stroking a hand over your head. With perfunctory movements Joel unveils one of your braids from where it was hidden behind you, smashed between your skull and the pillow. He restores the other to his sight as well, the plaited pigtails splayed out against the pillowcase at the sides of your head. “Look how perfect my pretty baby is,” he adds with tenderness caressing the words.
The sentiment has your cheeks growing hot under his patient, benevolent scrutiny. “You’re perfect too, daddy.”
He looks down at you with warmth and a gentle smile, grazing your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you, little bug.”
Joel sighs as he wraps a hand around his cock for a moment, stroking himself as he prepares to finish what he started. He places his hands back onto the backs of your thighs and presses until the tops of them are flush with your abdomen, exposing yourself to him again.
“Open up for daddy just one more time, okay?” he instructs, lining his head up with the opaque, white wetness pooling at your entrance. With one hand pressing down on the underside of your thigh and the other gripping his base, he feeds you his cock in one continuous stroke until his hips are flush with yours.
You whine at the sensation created at this angle. The tip of his cock grazes over every ridge at the front of your pussy until you swear you feel him in your tummy. He feels so big, so overwhelming, that you think he might pierce your stomach if he goes too hard. And you know he’s going to go hard. He always does. Always reduced to rutting into you like a feral dog, overcome with that drive to breed. Just the thought of it makes you dizzy.
“Fuckin’ shit,” he groans when he’s fully seated inside you, his knees solidly framing your waist and his hands situated on top of your braids on the pillow to lock them in place.
In a position like this, with him buried so deep inside you, invading your space and stealing your breath, you couldn’t possibly be any closer. You wish you had him like this all the time. He’s always close, but you want him as close as you can get him. Protecting you, loving you, claiming you as his own. That’s why you do this in the first place.
“How’s daddy feel?” He checks in, lingering in your perfect heat for as long as he can before he loses himself as he fucks you full.
“Perfect,” you sigh, tightening your grip around him as best you can, urging him to take what he needs from you.
“Good,” he exhales. And then he starts to move.
You think your favorite part of being fucked this deep is how dazzling it is. When he pulls out and thrusts back in, hitting you where you’re deepest, the insides of your eyelids start to sparkle. Little bursts of light that ignite when he collides with you, right on the edge of painful pleasure. When he gets relentless with it, a sort of static buzzes in your ears. You can still hear his compliments and praise, his insistence on what a good, tight little girl you are for him. You can still hear the slapping of your skin, the rumble of the headboard, the slight squeak of the bed frame. You hear all of it, but it’s layered with white noise. The kind of muddled clarity that you’ve come to associate with Joel in these moments. An all-encompassing passion that seems to transcend roles and current locations and whatever moods the two of you have brought to the bedroom.
The swirl in your brain of him, me, him and me, us. My daddy. His little bug. Pull him in so deep that I can’t breathe and he can’t leave. Fill me like this forever.
When Joel begins to unravel, he fucks you to a degree that is painful and powerful. He knows you can take it. He trained you to take it like this. In the same way he trained you to accept his compliments with polite thank yous and make requests of him with respectful pleases. Crafted you into his perfect little girl when you had begged him to do so at the start of your relationship. He had stepped into it so gracefully, embodied it so thoroughly, you knew the pair of you were born to enshroud yourselves in these roles. Nothing has ever made you happier, feel more complete.
Joel’s telltale growls and grunts are all you need to hear to know that he’s coming, fucking his spend into you as deep as he can manage as his vocalizations pierce through the buzz in your brain. He fucks you and fucks you until you’re both messy with the evidence of his orgasm, until the mix of his come and your pearlescent wetness pushes its way into the thick, dark hair at the base of his cock. It smears down your core, it leaks down to your asshole, it further soils the bedding beneath you. But he loves this part. Loves fucking you until your insides and outsides are coated in him, in the both of you. And, god, you fucking love it too.
Your sore legs relax around him, wrapping around his waist as Joel comes back to himself, breathing in the sweat and sex as he nuzzles your jaw.
“I love you so goddamn much, little bug,” he rasps against your skin, peppering kisses over wherever he has the energy to reach.
“I love you too, daddy,” you reply, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer as his cock softens inside you. “But I wanna go again.”
Joel groans into your neck and you giggle, having predicted exactly what his reaction would be.
“You make me go again right now, little girl…” he starts to threaten, unearthing from the warmth of your neck. His eyes flicker over your face with a tired smirk, taking in the spark of playfulness that’s ever-present in your own gaze whenever he’s around. He reaches up and pinches your nose between his knuckles again, finishing his thought with a broad grin, “And it’s goin’ right up here.”
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millerscoffee · 8 months
Note
reader lives in jackson and is friends with tommy, so she sees joel relatively frequently, and they just DONT get along. the reader is young and she’s got a sharp tongue and cheek that irritates the shit out of joel, who shoots back just as much condescending insults. they literally can’t be in a room without getting into it. however, the reader does it for his attention (she’s got daddy issues), and joel doesn’t catch onto this until she’s knocking on his door at midnight because she can’t sleep and she needs him and she doesn’t know how to admit it. he pulls her in the house and absolute filth ensues. he makes her blow him and then they fuck. joel is smug and condescending the whole time, and reader just becomes a ragdoll. Size kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie/breeding, the works PLEASE
you got it, anon! ✨ this was requested on @atticrissfinch's page too, go check it out! i love how the same request can elicit two different stories. i did my best not to read it before i finished this (it was as difficult as it sounds cos HOO BOI 😅🥵♡)
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only daddy that'll walk the line
6.2k | joel miller x f!reader
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rating: 18+ MDNI
warning: big mean dom!joel™️ lmao, alcoholism (reader's dad, but also drunk!joel for a second - **this is not in the smutty scenes**), parental abuse (verbal, it is brief), smut, age difference (joel is 56, reader is 18-early 20s - your choice), size kink, dirty talk (joel's a talker more than his usual grunty self), name calling (bitch, brat, slut, etc.), light praise kink & like- two pet names, ✨ degrading language and acts ✨, edging, choking/gagging, hair pulling, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, spitting kink!!!, spanking, oral (m receiving), no prepping the reader, brat tamer!joel, bratty reader, if i missed anything lmk
summary: based in jackson, you have the unfortunate predicament of being friends with tommy miller and hating his brother, joel – and you have no problem in letting either of them know that! until one night you are brought to joel's doorstep.
A/N: this is my first request! thank you! huzzah!! hopefully it's to your liking, nonnie. he's big mean dom!joel™️ but with a conscience yknow?? enjoy ♡ i did proofread this, but i wrote it over the course of a couple weeks. i did my best! lol
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"Dude, what's his fucking problem!?"  You roll into the dining hall in a huff.  Shuffling to your seat for dinner, you slam your tray down and Maria gives you a combined look of worry and irritation at peace being compromised.
"Who, honey?"  Tommy asks, handing you a glass of water with an entertained grin because he's positive he knows just who you're talking about.
He'd seen the two of you go at each other's throats earlier in the day when you were trying to get by him on your way out the door.  His back was to you, and he all but ignored your request to get out of the way.  Causing you to shove past him, which ensued an argument between the two of you.  Which led you to both of you gunning each other with your words until you both left in a bad mood.
Joel had his back to you, his frame fully in the doorway as he spoke with a woman in town.  It started off slow: a few clearings of your throat, a slight nudge of his back.  No avail.
"Excuse me," you shouted, pushing at him again before he finally turned around quickly with his jaw ticked.
"Do you have any manners, Christ."  He said dry and muttered under his breath, but the lady made room for you and you nodded politely in her direction.
"Maybe if you weren't so fucking old, you could've heard me!"
"And watch your fuckin' mouth."
Joel turned his back to you, not giving you a moment to retort.  Conversation over. 
"This fucker," when you look up, you see Joel coming towards the table.  The sight of him gives you a set of shivers you can't explain.  Not complete disgust, but certainly not excitement.
"You really oughta keep better company," Joel tells his brother, sitting down beside him, he frames his entire body towards Tommy so he's sitting in a way to make you feel ignored.
"I'm right here, you know."  Your head is moving so you're in the line of his vision.
"Don't remind me.  Listen, this is a family dinner.  Go find your own."
A slap in the face would've hurt less.  Before Tommy or Maria had the chance to come to your defences – both of their mouths open ready to take up for you – you stood up, shoving your tray over to Joel.  So loud, other people turn their gaze to the four of you.
"Fuckin– eat up, then."
As you storm off to your house, you hear Tommy scold his older brother but you don't look back.
---
The next morning, your father wakes you up to the sound of his own yelling for you to come downstairs.  You'd been helping out Maria and Tommy to get your own place, or at least a shared one with people your age and to hear your dad's voice; whiskey-soaked and cruel, makes your stomach churn.
After slipping on your clothes for the day, you make it to the kitchen where he's sitting at the table and reeking from alcohol even from where you're standing.
"Didn't you hear me call you?"  His words were slurred and angry.
"Yes, I'm sorry."  It's such a difference from how you talk to other people, talk to Joel, for example.  Maybe because he's the last person you spoke to, but he's the first one who pops into your head during this interaction.  You sound meek, scared to say something wrong.  A stark difference from how you speak to Joel – abandoning all worries of punishment.  Almost like you wanted that from him.
"Fuckinbetterbe – hiccup – breakfast.  Now."  Your dad all but snaps his fingers and rage creeps up the back of your throat, biting your tongue so hard you break the surface layer.  A slight streak of blood coats your mouth, but you do as you're told.
This morning is kinder than others.  Your dad did not say thank you for the pancakes, you didn't get hit or debased too much.  You consider it a win.  Once you leave your house as soon as you can, Joel's chest hits your face as soon as you turn the corner.  The milliseconds seem long when you're met with the warmth and solidity of his chest, the scent of cedar and... whiskey?  It seemed too early, even for him, to be drinking and you shake off the unreasonable rationale that he should be treated differently than your father for the same behaviour.
You ignore the similarities of him and your father all together, actually.
"Watch where you're goin'," Joel's brows are knit together, which is normal for him, but you've never been this close to see his lips from this angle above you.  You almost say something out of the ordinary for the two of you, but you reel it in quickly.
"You're one to fuckin' talk.  Morning coffee smells a lot like alcohol.  Maybe I should tell Tommy about your habits."
"Does it ever hurt your head bein' a bitch all the time?"
"Not as bad as that hangover will be around noon.  Move."
You push past the large build in front of you with a clenched jaw, unable to be around him a second longer.  "Fuck you, Joel," you mutter for good measure on your way to Tommy and Maria's.
They'd given you safety on days when it seemed scarce, and showing up felt appropriate.  You were a little closer with Tommy than Maria.  He was able to listen to you without being too judgy, and you needed that.  The lack of safety piece was a lot like how your day started off.  You walk around to the back where Tommy's working on a new hobby and you sit in front of him, letting out a big sigh.
"Y'daddy givin' you trouble again?"
Typically when Tommy asks about your father he says it like this, but today it catches you off guard.  Confusion twists your mind, but you nod distractedly.  "Yea, he was drunk this morning.  Your brother, too."
You slide that one in fast.
Tommy fists through his hair, letting out a heavy exhale.  "Shit.  We both got trouble this mornin', I guess."
"Seems like it."
You're unusually quiet, looking at the ground more than anything.  It bugs you that Joel and your father have a similar quality to them.  That they both are up reaching for the bottle, but for Joel it's not a common occurrence and that makes you worried – an emotion you don't have for him that often, if you're being honest.  You don't think about his experiences that often.  But this is the first time, really, you've even seen Joel drunk like that.  You remember Tommy mentioning that he'd given up the stuff since Sarah's passing when everyone was around a fire one night sharing stories.
As if the dots connect in real time, you look over to Tommy who looks worried sick.
"He'll figure it out,"  you reassure, chewing the inside of your cheek before heading out.  You call behind you, "I'll be around."
You've never really been good at the whole 'being there for someone' thing.
~~
Later on, you find yourself in the mess hall again for the night's dinner and you catch Maria, Tommy, Joel, and Ellie all together and it feels weird to sit with them.  They're all laughing, Joel looks sobered up.  And it seems that Tommy didn't bring up the conversation the two of you shared.  They look like a happy family and twists a knot in your throat and the proverbial knife at your side.
"Can I please spend the night at Tommy and Maria's?  Please?"  Ellie is looking over at Joel with the sweetest expression, you snicker to yourself at how menacing she actually was.  It seemed to do the trick, though.  Joel's eyes flicker over to you, and it feels like you're being caught for something.  The look is inculpatory without you doing anything.  As if to say you are witnessing something too personal, a side of him not meant for you.  "Yeah, sure," his response to Ellie sounds distant.
This gives you no choice but to walk up to the scene, to sit down beside Maria.  She gives you a welcoming grin and makes space for you.  "What'd I miss?"  You look over to Ellie who's excited to see you, but Joel?  Not so much.  His eyebrows narrow down his face, suddenly more quiet than usual, even for him.  You set your sights back on Ellie who's telling you all of the cool things she's gonna do at her Uncle Tommy's and you flash a smile that lets her know you're listening.  Or at least trying.  It's hard when Joel isn't even initiating the usual conflict with each other.  More arguing than speaking.  And the fact it wasn't happening was off.
"That sounds like a blast...," you trail off, your chin in your hands.
"If you're not gonna listen to her, don't ask her questions."  Joel barks, eyes now solemnly black in your direction.  It makes you scared and delighted at once.  Like he was back to normal.  Your normal.
"I was listening to her?"  You retort, and everyone's quiet now.  Awkwardness filling the air as the two of you battle it out.  "Maybe if you weren't so drunk all the time you'd know the differen–"  "Hey, now."  Tommy chimes in, giving you a stern look of disapproval and you feel bad.  Reflective.  Joel wasn't drunk all the time, and you knew exactly why he was this morning.
You exhale, "I'm sorry," you nod in the direction of everyone but Joel and stand up from your seat, "enjoy your family time."
On your way back to your house, you catch a glimpse of a group of people your age.  People you'd grown up with, but they didn't acknowledge you and it digs the wound closer in.  You truly felt alone.  Like nothing fit, and maybe you didn't belong in Jackson but it wasn't like there were many choices to go to.
---
More times than not you sneak into your room.  Not because you are past a type of curfew, you were an adult.  It was more, you didn't want your dad to know you were around.  Your door was locked when you climbed in through the window.
You got comfortable, spilling out of your clothes for the day and into your pajamas.  Cotton shorts and a loose tee.  Your breasts perky and nipples taut from the worn fabric.  A lot of the day was spent dealing with heavy subjects that you just wanted to let your mind escape.
Staring at the ceiling in your bed, your eyes become blurry in need of sleep.  Needing release.  Anything.
Your mind wanders to why Joel was so quiet with you when you sat down.  It wasn't like that was the first time the two of you had a shouting match in front of everyone, but this felt different.  You deduce it to Joel having an off day and let your mind wander somewhere else.
Or, at least you try.
Because when your hands explore your body under the blankets, Joel comes back to life in your thoughts.  You come back to the warmth of his chest when you ran into him this morning, the grunt that left him from impact.  What that would sound like against your ear.  Before you know it, you're shifting your thighs together, spreading the mess of your cunt.  A craving ignites your bloodstream.
It's slick between your legs when you sit up, and you're full of determination unbeknownst of where it's coming from.  The act itself is a little heady, but you have nothing to lose so why not?
Slipping on a pair of shoes and a jacket that covers your clothes, you turn your back to the window and scurry down until you're able to jump off onto the grass.  One step close to where you want to be.
Joel's house is across the street which makes it easy to get to, but aggravating when you want a sense of peace.  He's always around, shooting you a menacing stare when you're not down each other's throats but there's an ache you can't deny.  A compulsion.
You knock on his door twice before he swings it open almost like he saw you approach, but he doesn't tug you inside like you thought he was.  Doesn't make you get on your knees or fulfill any fantasy of being used.  Of... making him proud.
"What?"  His question is dry and a part of you is crushed. He isn't taking advantage of the way your legs look in your shorts right away.
"You're not the only one who had a bad fucking day," you start, but he doesn't give you a moment to push through the door because before you know it you're being pulled inside.  The sound of a slamming door somewhere behind you.  You're forced to look at him with his paw wrapped around your jaw, thumb tilting your chin up effortlessly.  It locks you in place.
"You came here.  Why?  Y'want me to fuck your bad day away?"
You gape is panicked, eyes wide now in this compromising position.  You can't think, you can't nod or say words.  You just stare.
"She's real fuckin' quiet now," Joel shoves you against the closed door, not letting an inch of space be wasted and he takes your wrist with his free hand, palming you over his hardening cock in his jeans.  "How about now.  You payin' close attention?"
You whimper, nodding softly as your fingers massage and rub, tug at anything you can through the fabric.
"Did I tell you y'could do that?"  His words make you pause, shivering at how truly empty your mind is in the moment.  Even in your inexperience you don't know you've ever felt so instantly timid.  Joel makes you fold at the first hint of misbehaviour.  You can't think of a thing to say.  Halfway don't know why you're here in the first place, and he's got you so wet from this it almost hurts.  Stickiness coats your thighs as you squeeze your legs together and you're sure it will be obvious even through your cotton shorts.
You shake your head, and he's sick of you not speaking to him.  Squeezes your face tighter, "Use your fucking words."
"No... no you didn't," you manage and you've never heard yourself sound so pathetic.
"I didn't, that's right.  You answer to me."  The snapping sound of his words causes your eyes to roll in annoyance.  He doesn't own you, he never fucking could.  The action makes his jaw tighten, his hand from your jaw in a grip that didn't hurt now is wrapped around your throat and although it's not tight, it certainly isn't loose.  "What the fuck was that?"
You're back to being silent, unable to do anything but take.
"Not asking again."
"I rolled my ey–"
"You rolled your eyes.  Roll your fuckin' eyes at me again, little girl.  You'll regret it."
A cool threat, you think.  Meaningless, even.  What possible reproach would he have anyway?
It's then you take in the house.  You'd been here once before to stay with Ellie.  It's dark, a single lamp upstairs.  All of this is background noise to the drone of your need prickling your youthful skin.  It's apparent, your age difference, when you're this close.  His rough fingers, wrinkles catching the moonlight peeking in through the windows.
"I–I'm sorry," you've been saying that a lot lately.
"Don't apologise to me.  Don't say sorry when I know you're not."  His thumb moves from your chin to your lips, thumbing over just how pliable and soft they are and it sends your nerves to the surface.  Prying your lips apart, he presses inside and you willingly wrap your lips around it to lap the pad of his digit.  "Look at that sweet thing," he says, more at you than to you, and your neck flushes being this willing to suck for him, "so easy for me to use.  I put my thumb to y'er lips and you just took it right in, didn't ya?"  The taste of his skin robs you of any other sense, his tone making you all but fold.
"Show me what this mouth is good for, 'cuz it sure ain't good at a sincere apology."
Before you know it, you're on your knees.  Joel is kind enough that he ushers you down onto the hardwood floor and you can't believe you're face to face with his crotch in front of his door, no less.
"You couldn't wait to take me to your bedroom?"
Joel doesn't reply straight away.  Instead you hear the clanking of metal, a zipper coming undone, and the slap of his cock hitting his abdomen on the way out of his pants.  You take mental note that he hasn't been asleep by his attire, but it's all for nothing when your eyes make out the shapes in the dim light.  You choke when you see just how big he is.
He tuts, leaning his head condescendingly as he takes a chunk of your hair in his palm to tilt your chin up to greet his cock.  "Aw, you think you're goin' t'my room?"  The words make you feel naïve, the one or two times you've done something like this didn't have nearly as much... compromise.  And you certainly didn't hook up with someone twice your age.  You don't have time to be self-conscious because the head of him, the leaky head of him, is tapping against your lips and your eyes roll back as you open your mouth for him.  After jumping slightly in surprise, of course.
He sighs in relief with a deigned smile, pushing his hips further.  "Fuck.  You hear that?  Nothing!  Sounds so fuckin' good, shuttin' you up."
But it's not entirely nothing, is it?  Not with your gagging, slurping up what you can but you don't know what you're doing all the way and fumbling through half of it.  Doesn't seem to faze him much.
It's obscene as it feels, him using you like this – and you don't feel an ounce of guilt when it's exactly what you want.  The switch flips on why you came to his door in the first place.  His big thumb swipes over the corner of your full mouth, "You like that, dontcha, filthy thing?"
And you hated how right he was.  You wanted to scream, kick him.  Retaliate in a way so you could still be in this submission at the same time.
Your mouth was full by the earthy taste of him, obliterating whatever feelings you had about the day.  A bad mood that he had contributions in, but it's melting from the constant thrust of his hips.  And he's keeping your head locked in place, hand gripped in the strands so you can feel your spit mingling with the underside of his cock.  Honestly, every part of his dick is covered in your spit.  It spills down your chin, threatens up your nose when you gag, leaves your eyes to water when you look up at him in a dire need to breathe fully, but he's not done with you.
Not until the loudest, lewdest pop from your mouth you've ever heard does Joel break contact completely.  Steps back until you're being observed in a patronising way.  Your gone expression.  All saliva and tears and his precum smeared over your mouth.  You can barely bring yourself to look up, but his demands seem to do the trick.
Snapping his fingers at you to get your attention, you swallow hard.  "Nuh uh.  You're not gonna get all soft on me, girl.  Wake the fuck up."
Which would be simple if he wasn't practically dragging you by your hair, making you crawl on your hands and knees until you're on your feet and you're shoved onto his couch.
All that and you're still dressed.
"Off," he's barking commands like you're a trainable being and if you were in any other state, you may reconsider this whole ordeal, but when he pushed you onto the couch your legs spread just enough for him to see the wetness smearing the cotton at the apex of your thighs and that amuses him. "not good at hidin' how much of a slut y'are."
"You think it's just you that does this to me?" You find your voice again, hoisting yourself up to sit on his couch as his cock – thick and proud – sways against the fabric caught between it.  Your tongue presses to your cheek when you make eye contact, "You're kidding yourself."
The venom drips so fluidly from your tongue, Joel doesn't make a sound.  Just peels off his clothes until he's standing there naked in his house, giving you living proof that you are kidding yourself.
The silence speaks for itself.  He is pure smug under the sight of your drooling gaze.
"It's real cute that you think y'got control over the situation n'all," the weight shifting on this couch from the cushion shaping around his knee.  Joel sits down, taking you by the scalp again to cloak you over his lap stomach-first, and you yelp in surprise when he does all of this and tugs your shorts down in one fell swoop.
With your hair in his fist, his other hand ghosts over your ass in effort to make sure you squirm for him before administering a devilishly loud spank to your ass.  "But somebody better teach you better manners.  Sure as shit itn’t your father."
You crack out a sob at that– from the contact and the truth.  You couldn't retort, you were too busy getting slap after slap against your increasingly worn ass to think about anything else.  "Lucky I ain't making y'count.  You'd have this for eternity now."
Not that it mattered anyway.  He's leaving mark after mark of his large handprint across your cheeks, probably ten more if you could even focus on anything else but finding the words to stop him.
"Please– y-you're right," tears stain your face as you bury your face in your arms.  Flinching when Joel moves, you expect another searing punishment, but instead he pulls your ass apart and you gasp at the cool air striking your cunt that's hot and wet for him.  "Joel!"
“Dirty fuckin’ girl, wet from gettin’ punished.  I talked so bad about you, and you liked it?  You’re as desperate as I thought.  Only good for gettin’ my cock wet.”  And it’s like a lever is pulled when your slutty little smile plasters over your face with him out of view.  Not that you had much time to gloat, or to experience the pleasure of living in your own fantasy because Joel’s got you pulled again.  His thick thighs spread apart when he maneuvers you so willingly to sit between his legs.  Right where he wants you.  Right where you can feel the throbbing pulse at your folds.  He tells you to take off the rest of your clothes and you would be a fool to do otherwise.
“Bad girls don’t get the luxury of bein’ opened,” that Texan drawl slips over your ear when he holds the base of his cock, slicking himself through your folds, you gasp and wriggle against him – his grip tightening harder.  Silently warning you if you make another move it’s over, you’re done.  It’s over.  All the while the searing stretch of him causes your cunt to flutter and clench around him.  It’s too much, too overwhelming, and he won’t let you adjust long enough.  “You’ll get over it,” but it’s not reassuring.  He still sounds in control despite his laboured breathing and when he can, he moves his hands to grip your hips and guide you down on him.  You scream, a knee jerk response wriggle away from him, but this position doesn’t quite allow for that.
“Be a good girl.”
That folds you, quite literally, as he moves his hips down to pound up into yours, using you like his own toy to get himself off with.  And it’s just the incredible sounds of your squelching cunt and his balls tapping against your folds.  The fucking isn’t frantic, but it certainly isn’t soft.  He’s rough with you, a hand traveling up your back to grip your hair so your neck is back in place and he lifts you upright so your back is curved, neck craned so if you tried, you could make him out – upside down.  “Poor thing couldn’t help it, had to get a daddy to take care of her.  You want that, kitten?  Wanna be used and as daddy’s little fucktoy – only good for makin’ me cum?”  his hand sneaks around to the front of you with his free hand, he presses and digs into your pubic bone to make you feel exactly where he is.  “Put a baby right here.  Make everyone know what you fuckin’ did.”
You whine, eyes rolling back at the thought.  It was so obscene, nothing like you’d ever even heard of before.  Where did he fucking learn how to talk like this?  Your brain is swimming while your sticky sweetness coats his lap, clawing at his thighs for any sort of stability, but it was dizzying how he had you.  How his grunts filled the air in between slaps like he had your hips placed at the perfect angle for him to work you.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”  His gritting teeth by the shell of your ear, he keeps you secure within your hair to snake his arm around the front of you tugging and rolling at the sensitive nubs of your nipples.  When he feels you appear to drift off, those rough hands supply another smack, but to your tits this time, your fingernails clawing into his thighs involuntarily as you squeal in surprise.  You tighten at that, fluttering around his cock and you feel it at the edge.  So close you can almost taste it.
But he knows you’re close, too, and there’s no way in hell he’s giving that to you.  Not when you’ve barged into his house like this, not when you’ve done nothing but be an insufferable brat to him since the moment he came to Jackson.
Joel hovers you over his lap, and your heels dig into the floorboard.  His hips still, keeping the very tip of his cock inside of you – you feel panic flash over your body.  “No,” it’s the first word you’ve uttered in god knows how long and it sounds desperate.  Any hope of getting an orgasm swirls down the drain, and it’s set in stone when he pushes you on your back – the lumpy couch digging into your skin.  “No, no, please.  Why!”
His eyes could burn a hole through you.  Like a hungry dog, his body hovers – shoulders stooped, head down when he pours his gaze into you.  And he likes what he sees.  Legs open and begging, willing to do anything to get him back into you.  Your cunt glistening, even in the dull light and he can tell it’s pulsing.  “Poor thing’s clampin’ around nothin’,” he teases, grunting when his knees meet the couch cushions – another tell of his age.  But you, you’re too preoccupied in taming the ache between your legs to comment.  It burns, coming back to a fixed state you realise how stretched out you were and it’s more than overwhelming.  To know you haven’t been used to completion, all hope draining from your face.
“Joel,” your breath is shaky underneath him, pupils blown and wet when you make out his features, “Joel, please.  Please, I want this.”
“Darlin’, I know you want it.  Everybody in town knows you want it,” his words make you sob a whine as they approach closer to your neck, the delicate graze of his beard dances at your pulsepoint and you shudder.  Hips raise and he’s quick to slam them back down into place.  “If you want me, ‘Joel’ ain’t whatchu say to get me.”
And if you felt hopeless before, you really do now.  Unable to do anything but debase yourself for your own pleasure.  You’d heard it earlier, the way he referred to himself with a name that brought up mixed feelings at Tommy’s.  You swallow down embarrassment, looking him in the eyes – which were faded obsidian, your fingernails dig into your own thighs as if to brace for what’s tempting to slip out of your throat.
You hated that he made you nervous.
And you hated the hold he had over you.
But he had it, there was no doubt about it.  He had it.  He had you.
Your jaw ticks forward, fully aware of your clit screaming for attention and exhale shakily.  “Please, daddy.  Please, I want this.”
“Eh,” Joel muses, shaking his head, “I don’t believe ya.  Really gotta hear the desperation in your voice.  Maybe if I,” his hand reaches for his cock, slapping the sloppy head of it against your folds and that– that sends you.  Takes you to a different destination entirely because for the first time all night there’s attention to that bundle of nerves, and he knows it.  He knows you need this in order to give everything over to him in full.  “Daddy!” you screech, pelvis jutting up in full inclination and without a single word, Joel’s cock spears into you all the way to the hilt.  All the way to your cervix.
His hands, emitting heat and wrapped largely around your hips, locks you where he wants you like some animal in heat.  It forces you to bring your legs up into a position you aren’t sure you’ve ever been in – thighs against your stomach, by your sides.  It’s so, “deep,” you whimper, head rocking as your mouth flies open and he’s delivering you thrust after thrust of pleasure so wrecking no noise comes from you.
“Is that what you needed? Fuckin' brat,”  Joel is still able to tease, but even he isn’t immune to how tight you are around him.  Your fluttering core begging for release as it moves in and out around him – as if it’s doing its own begging.  “You wanna be filled up to the brim with my cum, babygirl?  Needy fucking cunt like you only good for matin’ like this.”  Your skin burns at his words, your body convulsing as you do your best to keep it together.
That’s when Joel’s hand wraps around your throat, a line of spit falling into your mouth and you willingly drink from him.  “You hold off, you ain’t gettin’ it tonight,” you pout for a moment, not fully understanding what he means by that, but he clarifies when his hips get sharper, more precise.  As if his cock is hooked inside of you, not letting a drip of precum spill out of you against your cervix.  “Y’ain’t cummin’, but I am.”
His grip around your throat gets harder, and you swear you can see every vein in his face rise to the surface when he uses you.  You’re limp, all thoughts washed away – his cock thick and long, you aren’t even sure how he fits it all inside of you but he does.  The edge of your stomach bulges as he works you, his neck cranes back to expose his neck and it’s too much to take. For both of you.  His hot cum ropes cords inside of you, sticking to your walls.  Filling you up is an understatement with how much he has to give you.  It’s as if you can discern the moment his seed grazes your cervix in its sticky texture.  Your head is swimming at the sound of your animalistic grunts, he looks so… fucking hot like this.  His name is replaced with ‘daddy’ more easily than you care to admit.  You do try not to chase your orgasm… a part of you does, anyway.
But you’re defiant.
You can take yourself there without him telling you to, and in fact the opportunity to disobey him is just what you need to send yourself creaming all over his cock.  You gasp, eyes wide before they roll back and you’re fucking yourself on his spent cock that somehow still has life to it.  Even for his age, he can still keep it hard for you after his seed coats your insides.  “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” becomes part of your breath, and you’re shocked he doesn’t pull out of you even though his hips are still.  You don’t notice it until you come down considering you’re using him.  Did he say you could do that?  As if you’re woken up by an alarm, you jerk at the sensation of the orgasm you snuck.  Without his permission.  You look up, and his knuckles are bleached around your hips.  He looks so menacing like this, scary.  You shake your head, swallowing hard in your attempt to fix things.
But it’s too late for you.  You’re a brat at the end of the day, and he has to train you.  Make you realise the error of your ways.
His cock is still buried deep when his middle finger plays where the two of you connect.  A whine escapes you, shivering now, not quite sure what he’s going to do.  He’s lethally quiet, you aren’t sure how to react.  He’s contemplating what to do to you, he’s not met someone who’s as menacing as he is.  As unwilling to give away freedom.  Not since… his nostrils flare as he inhales.
“I told you not to do that,” Joel stating the obvious makes you clear your throat, his cock twitching inside you in the aftershocks sends your teeth to bite down on your lip and you shake your head, “I c- I couldn’t help it!” You lie, and he knows it.  Compels him to prod that middle finger just above his cock inside you and the stretch is too much.  When you reach out for his forearm, his other hand darkens over your wrist, pinning it back in a way that hurts.  You wince in tandem with it and his monstrous hook of the digit inside you.  You’re so full, “It’s too-it’s too much!” you tap at anything you can, but he’s not listening.
Instead, the pad of his finger has no problem in touching that spongy bit inside of you – especially since your cunt is stretched from his cock and he can see it.  His cum tempts to pool out of you, but he shoves it back in, working his finger inside you repeatedly but he’s just rubbing.  He’s just rolling his finger against your g-spot until you feel so overstimulated it brings more pain than pleasure.  “Came like you knew what you were doin’,” he finally remarks, thumb rolling over your clit and you can’t take it.  “Please, pl– it’s too much!  Daddy!”  That rhythm is sly, though, in making you come undone.  Again and again.  As you’re on the peak of what would be an explosive orgasm, Joel pulls out of you entirely.  His cock, his finger.  His warmth is a distant memory when he stands up, palming over his cock.  How did he get hard again?!  He would deal with that on his own time.
Your moan is choked out, thighs pressing together for any sort of… something.  A release, a grind.  You’re left panting and begging, your tits perky and heaving for him.
“What did I say, little girl?”  He climbs into his clothes, one button up at a time with his flannel.  “You won’t be cumming for a week with that fuckin’ attitude.”
You’re so lost in chasing a feeling, soon to disappear as it could arrive that all you can do is whimper and nod.  “I’m so–” his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.  Spit covers your face, and you hum like a kitten at the feeling of his hot saliva down your cheek, “What did I fucking say about apologisin’ when you’re not sorry?”
You wipe your face, sucking the spit off your thumb with a satisfied smirk.  “Fuckin’ loved it, daddy.”
He swallows then, his head shaking in disbelief over how much of a filthy bitch you are.  “Yeah, yeah you fuckin’ did.  Belong to me now, you understand?  Gonna let everybody know what a slut you are for this cock.”
And you would be lying if you didn’t experience a swell of pride in those words.  You’d be down each other’s throats again in no time, but the look of ownership that adorns his face over you is too much not to bask in.
“A week?”  You study him, eyes wet and round, look up at him and you see his cheek twitch in response.
“Gonna be two if you keep it up.”
You let out a faint sigh, resting your head back on the armrest.  “Yes, daddy.”
“Good girl,” he coos, leaning down to press his lips at the shell of your ear.  Fingers tucking his cum back in your hole.  He relishes in how hot you feel under his fingers.
“Now get the fuck out of my house.”
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taglist: @cool-iguana - dm to be added!
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shellshocklove · 12 days
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wet nights | joel miller
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pairing/AU: bfd!joel miller x female!reader – no outbreak
summary: getting beer spilled down your dress at your best friend sarah’s birthday party might not have been so bad– not when her dad can help you clean up.
warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 25 and joel is 47, reader is described as wearing a dress, swearing, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, exhibitionism, praise with a dash of degradation kink, one small touch of your clit, soft dom!joel, use of sir, cum play, no use of y/n
a/n: mom said it was my turn to write bfd!joel lol. basically this is just me wanting to write joel getting his cock and balls sucked bc it's what he deserves 😌 as always thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this for me! and happy reading <3
main masterlist / ao3
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Nodding your head to the beat of the music you gulped down a cooling sip of beer. The bar was stuffed to the brim tonight for Sarah’s birthday. Every chair and booth occupied, large groups huddled together against the walls, and a growing crowd of brave, seemingly deep enough down their drinks, dancers moved across the makeshift dance floor. Leaning against the bar right at the end, you were shielded from the continuous line of people looking for a drink to sate their thirst on this hot summer night.
You’d missed Sarah since graduation. She’d moved back to Austin to be closer to her father – a man you had still to meet even after all these years of knowing Sarah. You’d met in undergrad where you’d had a couple of overlapping classes the first year. She’d been one of those people where you’d just clicked, like a hand in a glove, you two just fit together.
Now you had moved to Austin. It wasn’t exactly planned, but you’d applied to a postgraduate program at the University of Texas, not necessarily thinking you’d get in– but then you had. Sarah had been ecstatic when you’d told her. You hadn’t seen her in person in over a year, but you couldn’t wait to live in the same city as your best friend again.
But first, her 25th birthday party.
Tonight would be your first night out as a new Austinite. Sarah had invited all her closest friends and family to her favorite bar to celebrate. You’d dreaded it a little, you weren’t gonna lie. That nagging anxiety had bubbled under your skin all week at the prospect of being the only one at the party who didn’t know anyone already. Sarah had told you not to worry though when you’d voiced your concern to her a few days ago – she’d introduce you to everyone – nothing to worry about, and she’d been right.
All Sarah’s friends had been extremely friendly and nice, and you’d been taken under their wing immediately. Quickly, your anxiety had melted away, condensing into nothing as you’d started to have a good time.
It was deep into the summer, and Austin had shown itself from its hotter side the last few days. Inside the bar everything ran hot, even with the AC on blast and with the amount of people who’d made their way inside in the last hour, looking for a good time on a Saturday night, it never stood a chance.
Trying to cool off you’d excused yourself from your new group of friends to order yourself a cold beer. One of the ACs blew cold air directly towards the bar, keeping the frantic bartenders cool as they pushed out order after order of drinks. You watched them from where you stood perfectly in the wind of the AC, glass raised to your lips when you felt a hard bump against your shoulder.
“Fuck,” you cursed as your full glass of beer spilled all down your front, staining your white summer dress.
“Shit– sorry, sweetheart.” You didn’t have time to react as your beer was lifted out of your wet hand and placed on the rough wood of the bar.
Looking up from your ruined dress you took in your beer thief as he reached across the bar for some napkins. He was older, forties maybe, maybe older if you were to take the sprinkle of salt and pepper in his hair into consideration, but he was gorgeous. A strong jaw and sculptured nose. Clad in a t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, you thought he looked casual– not like he belonged to the rest of the birthday party. The material of his t-shirt strained against his bicep as he leaned back from over the bar – a stack of napkins now in his hand. Standing to his full height before you, you noticed just how broad he was, and it made a drop of desire pool in your core. 
The man’s previous frantic movements came to a halt as he took you in for the first time; his dark brown eyes rolling down your body and leaving a trail of heat. His fist full of napkins stalled when his eyes landed on your dress, quickly diverting them with a loud clearing of his throat.
“Um– here,” he said, voice strained as he handed you the napkins.
Pulling your eyebrows together in a frown, you looked down at yourself again. The fabric was completely soaked through, and you felt a prickling heat tickle your cheeks as you realized you now looked like a walking ad for a wet t-shirt competition.
“Oh shit,” you muttered, taking the napkins from the man as you tried your best to cover yourself.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart– bumpin’ into ya like that.”
Pressing the napkins to your dress you shook your head at him, “It’s fine– eh,” you looked up from your body.
“Joel,” he introduced himself.
“It’s fine, Joel. It was an accident. I’ll just go to the restroom and try to get the stain out,” you said with a grimace, and reached for more napkins.
“Let me help ya,” he offered as he placed a friendly hand on your elbow.
As Joel guided you through the crowd towards the toilets, hand hovering at a polite distance behind your back, he continued to apologize.
“I feel terrible– let me at least pay for it if it ends up needin’ replacin’.”
Inside the bar’s toilets, you jumped up on the stone countertop lining the wall, turning the closest sink on.
“It’s okay,” you repeated as you busied yourself with trying to clean yourself up, “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten beer spilled all over me,” you said with a teasing laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little.
Standing beside you with his hip leaning against the stone and a knee popped, Joel huffed out a strained laugh, a laugh somewhere between embarrassment and relief.
“Yeah?” He questioned, eyes falling to your working hands.
“Tell you this much– I’ve had plenty of wet nights.”
A sound escaped Joel at your words, one he quickly tried to cover up with a cough, and you realize your innuendo a second too late. When you looked up from your hands, eyes wide, you noticed that Joel’s cheeks had flushed slightly, like he was embarrassed that he’d even caught onto the innuendo you hadn’t meant to make. 
“Oh! No, not like that–” you rushed, tone slightly mortified as your eyes met his, trying very hard not to stutter through the rest of your sentence, “I–uh... I only meant that I uh–... I‘ve had plenty of situations in which I’ve gotten wet–” 
At this sentence, Joel raised his eyebrows in a look that seemed half-surprised, half-amused, and your stomach dropped even further into your ass in embarrassment. 
“–with water!” you clarified quickly, before you scrunched up your nose in embarrassment, closing your eyes as you huffed out a laughing sigh, “There’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully, is there?” 
You heard Joel’s chuckle to your side, deep and syrupy, like the stuff you’d liked to pour over your pancakes in buckets when you were a kid.
“You’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t started explainin’, I think,” Joel told you, his tone joking, and you chuckled bashfully, nodding before you looked up at him. 
There was a moment in which you exchanged a look, before you felt the smile break over your face and you dissolved into embarrassed laughter, shaking your head as Joel laughed, too. 
“Off to a great start,” you muttered in between chuckles, “First week in Austin and I’m already making passes at handsome strangers in bar bathrooms.” 
“I never said I was complainin’,” Joel said jokingly, and you let out a chuckle, “First week in Austin, hm?” 
“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “Here for a postgrad.” 
“Smart and beautiful,” he mused, “Reckon I should spill beers more often if this is what I get in return.” 
Delicate wings fluttered in your tummy at his words as a feeling of excitement filled your chest. Looking up at him with a raised teasing eyebrow you said, “Not sure spilling beer on someone is the tried and tested formula.”  
“Well, that depends, really,” Joel answered back in a teasingly contemplating voice, “‘s it workin’ on you?” 
Your stomach dropped slightly at his words, and when your eyes moved to meet his, he was looking at you with a look that made your insides burn. 
“Maybe,” you told him with a teasing smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. 
You were never usually this bold, but there was something in the way he was looking at you and the syrup-y tone of his voice. You could tell he knew what he was doing, knew exactly what to say, and you wanted more. Biting down on your bottom lip coquettishly, you leaned backwards on your arms, giving Joel a full view of the soaked front of your dress, and more specifically, everything he could see underneath. 
“And what works on you, Joel?” 
You watched with some satisfaction as Joel's eyes ran over the length of your chest, before he quickly redirected them to your eyes.
“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman here, sweetheart,” he almost whispered, his eyes as dark as the Austin summer night sky. You gave a noncommitted shrug as a teasing smile tugged at your lips. Then, you leaned forward so that you were closer to him, feet dangling slightly.
“I never asked you to be,” you told him, your voice low but not quite a whisper as you looked up at him through your lashes. 
Behind your rib cage your heart quickened with excitement as Joel’s darkening gaze bored into yours, and you knew you him right where you wanted him. His eyes danced over your face for a moment, before they flickered down to your lips. It almost made you stop breathing for a second, the tension in the air between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was just something about this man, something about Joel – and in this moment you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone before. 
Maybe it should’ve scared you, the speed at which you’d fallen under his spell (or was it the other way around?), but right now, with Joel’s darkening eyes staring into yours, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any fear. You could only look at him, could only feel his breath fanning over your lips and the intensity of his gaze on your face.
“You’re trouble, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice was low, not quite a whisper, but full of deep bass. 
You felt the expanse of his hand fall on your bare knee, rough and calloused over where your sundress had ridden up. 
“Nothing you can’t handle.” You batted your eyelashes semi-innocently, spreading your thighs slightly, which made Joel’s mouth twitch in amusement. 
“’s that so, darlin’?” He asked, taking his place between your legs, your face now only inches from his as he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.
“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, your hand falling over his to guide it slowly up your thigh, “Don’t you wanna find out?”
As Joel’s index finger made contact with the side seam of your underwear, he closed the space between you and pressed his lips against yours. The hairs of his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow as he dove deeper, lips rolling over yours. You sat up slightly when his other hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your core rubbing up against his growing bulge. You whimpered against his lips at the contact, and Joel inhaled it, consuming every breathy moan and whimper.
His hand slid slowly downwards to your ass where he gave it a nice squeeze, pulling you even closer when your legs came up to wrap around his waist. He licked at your lower lip hungrily, and you opened yourself up to him to allow him to deepen the kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. He was a great kisser, probably the best you’d kissed. His lips moved expertly over yours, soft and firm at the same time as he guided you through it.
The grip on your ass tightened again and soon you were half-way to hanging off the counter as he rocked his front steadily against your core, where your arousal had started to pool. The kisses turned needier then, shorter and desperate between quiet whines. You could feel the shape of him against you, hard and thick, and big. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you as you imagined yourself on your knees before him, the weight and taste of him on your tongue. He was so fucking hot, and you wanted him so fucking badly.
“Can I suck your cock?” you panted through frantic kisses.
Joel pulled back slightly, head tipped back to find your eyes. 
“You wanna suck my cock?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. You only nodded, head tipping slowly with the bite of your lip.
Joel tsk-ed, “Dirty girl,” he said and rocked his hard bulge against your core, which earned him a moan. It made a wicked grin spread across his face, like he’d just proved a point.
His hands left your body as he slowly stepped backwards – that same cocky grin adorning his features as he nodded towards one of the stalls. Jumping off the countertop, you almost tripped over your feet to follow him inside.
“Relax, baby– ain’t no need to get on your knees until after we’re inside,” he teased, holding the door open for you, bicep bulging against the fabric of his t-shirt. Fuck, he looked so hot.
“Ha-ha,” you fake-laughed at him with a teasing roll of your eyes as you stepped past him and into the bathroom stall. When the door clicked behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning, you felt a pair of strong hands land on your hips as he pressed his body against your back.
“I’m only teasin’,” he reassured you in your ear, his breath fanning over the shell and sending a tingle down your spine. Turning around in his hold, your own teasing smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Yeah?” you queried with the raise of an eyebrow, “Well two can play that game, sir” you teased as you slowly sunk to your knees, missing the way Joel reacted to the title you’d assigned him.
From above Joel watched you, body relaxed and composed like he wasn’t about to get his dick sucked, but the lust in his eyes gave him away. Your teeth caught on your bottom lip as you fumbled with his belt, the sound of metal clinking bouncing off the tiles as you focused on popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. You couldn’t take your eyes off the shape of him hidden behind the denim, and it made your mouth water, your thighs squeezing together. You were mesmerized as you let your pointer finger run over the covered length of him, the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs soft under your fingertips.
For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do – suck a man you’d just met less than an hour ago off in the bathroom stall of some dingy bar? But then again, something excited you about it. 
Maybe it was Joel? Or maybe it was the thrill of it all– of maybe getting caught?
“Go on, darlin’, it’s okay– be a good girl n’ take it out f’me,” Joel ordered from above, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, caught the way he studied you, gauging your every move and reaction.
Then something shifted in his eyes, a flash of insecurity making its presence known, “Or don’t– we can stop f’you want– if you ain’t feelin’ it anymore.”
You shook your head before he’d even finished his sentence. God, no! You sure as hell didn’t want to stop.
“I wanna keep going, Joel,” you smiled, your fingers hooking into the elastic band of his boxer briefs.
A genuine smile bloomed across his face then, his rough hand coming down to cup your chin, “That’s good, baby,” he said, swiping his thumb slowly over your skin, before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.
“Know you’ll be good f’me, won’t you?” he whispered against your lips, drawing a breathy whine from you at the praise.
“Yes,” you sighed, almost breathless as he kissed you again quickly before he murmured against your lips, “Yes, you will, darlin’– you’re gonna choke on my cock ‘n thank me for it, won’t ya?”
He was driving you mad with all these questions. In just a few minutes, this man had turned you inside out, pushed every button to turn you on– you were practically swimming in your panties, your mind clouded in hazy arousal. 
You didn’t know what to do, and not thinking clearly, you chased his lips.
“Nuh-uh,” Joel chuckled, pulling away slightly, “lemme hear you say it, sweetheart.”
“Yes,” you sighed again, “thank you for giving me your cock.”
“Thank you for giving me your cock, what?”
This manwas relentless.
“Thank you for giving me your cock, sir?” you tried, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.
Pleased, a satisfied grin pulled at Joel’s lips. He rewarded you with a quick kiss before he pulled away, standing to his full height again.
You couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to touch him. Hooking your fingers into the elastic band of his boxer briefs again, you slowly pulled them down, revealing inch by inch of the base of his fat cock.
He was big, and the sight made your mouth water, but what excited you the most was the weight of his heavy balls.
“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide with fascination.
His hand found the back of your neck in a grounding hold as he guided you closer, your lips bumping against his tip. “Give it a kiss, baby… just like that,” he praised as you did exactly what he wanted, placing a kiss to his cock the same way you’d kissed his lips.
Over you, you could hear Joel release a content breathy chuckle, “That’s so good, baby, such a good girl.”
Egged on by his praises, you shifted a little on your knees, steadying your hands on his thighs as you pooled a blob of spit in your mouth that you let drip down the head. Joel watched you intensely as you used your dominant hand to slowly work the spit over his length, earning yourself a strained grunt. He grew even harder in your hand as you familiarized yourself with the weight and size of him in your hand. 
“Wanna taste it, sir,” you said and placed another soft kiss to the head, swiping your tongue over the slit to taste the precum that had started to pearl.
“Yeah?” he taunted, almost degrading, “You wanna taste my cock that badly?”
“Y-yes,” you whined, looking up at him through your lashes.
Joel watched you for a beat before he tapped at the hand wrapped around him, shooing it away as he fisted himself. “Open wide then, honey, ‘f you want it that bad,” he said, slapping his cock against the side of your face.
Your mouth dropped open in an instance as Joel stuffed his cock inside your mouth slowly. You opened up as wide as you possibly could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate the size of him in your mouth. It was a wide stretch, and the tip touched the back of your throat far too soon, making you gag around the head.
He pulled back to let you breathe for a moment, before he sunk back down your throat again, a large and grounding hand resting at the back of your head. The second time you were more prepared to take him, holding him in your throat for a few moments longer before you started to gag. Over you, Joel let out a strained grunt; the noise sending a bolt of arousal straight to your core.
After that, Joel let you take the lead.
You started out slow, taking the head into your mouth as you let your spit-covered fingers glide over his shaft in an experimental tug. Under your fist, a slick sound echoed off the tiles with every jerk of his cock. You made sure his cock was thoroughly coated in your spit as you set a steady rhythm. You let your tongue glide over the underside of his tip, his hips bucking when you dipped your tongue into the slit.
It was sloppy, and wet, and the noises coming from your throat were entirely too obscene as you started bobbing your head, taking him down your throat.
“That’s a good girl,” Joel praised you, helping guide his cock down your throat with the hand resting at the back of your head. “You love suckin’ cock, don’t you? Love havin’ a big cock fill up that tight throat?”
Suddenly, you heard the muted music coming from the bar grow louder before dying again at the sound of the door slamming shut. You stilled your movements in panic as you heard someone slip into the stall to your right. Your eyes met Joel as you slipped his cock out your mouth, but to your surprise he looked far from concerned about the new audience. 
Stretching his neck he turned his head in the direction of the occupied stall, while he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. Even in his hands it looked big, and you started to wonder how you’d ever managed to fit it down your throat. A beat passed before he turned his head to look at you again, a wicked grin coating his lips as he bobbed his cock in your face, rubbing the head over your closed lips before he slapped it lightly against your cheek.
“Open up,” he mouthed with another light slap to your cheek. His actions made a tingle of arousal spread throughout your body, and you realized in shock how much the thought of getting caught turned you on.
You did as Joel said and opened your mouth for him to feed you his cock again. He watched you very closely this time, letting you ease yourself down his cock at your own pace, trying your best to be quiet. When the very tip of your nose made contact with the thatch of coarse dark hair at the base and your lips were snug around his cock, Joel couldn’t help himself. The grounding hand at the back of your head held you down as he shoved himself as deep as he possibly could down your throat, his balls bouncing against your chin at the movement.
To your right you heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet being flushed and a lock being twisted. Your eyes welled up with tears, your vision fogging over as you tried your best to fight against your gag reflex. Over you, Joel watched you with a proud smirk on his lips. When the sound of the sink turning on echoed through the restroom, you allowed a whimpering gag to escape you as you squeezed your eyes shut.
It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but the thrill of getting caught choking on an older man’s cock, a man who was essentially a stranger, made you wonder if you could come untouched. You were so close already, just a flick of your clit would send you off the edge of bliss.
Your eyes were about to roll back into your head when Joel finally pulled back. You gasped violently for air at the exact moment the door opened, filling the toilets with loud music for a moment before you and Joel were locked away again in your own little world. Like you were on autopilot, your hand slipped between your thighs to find your clit, and soon you were withering with your orgasm.
“Oh, there you go, honey, come all over those fingers f’me, just like that,” you heard Joel say, though the force of your orgasm made it seem like he was far away, like your ears were filled with cotton.
When you finally calmed down, you steadied yourself with a tug at Joel’s jeans – the fabric rough under your fingertips. Over you Joel fisted his cock as he watched you with a wild look in his eyes.
“Goddamn, baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that just from gettin’ your throat fucked.”
“Thank you, sir,” you managed to let out, your voice strained and hoarse.
Realizing he must’ve been close, you sat up straighter on your knees, ready to pull him off the edge too. Leaning forward, you stuck out your tongue, licking a fat strip up the seam of his balls to the underside of his shaft. His cock jumped in his hand as Joel let out a breathy laugh.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, “Look me in the eyes honey– look me in the eyes when you lick my balls.” Joel jerked his cock above your face as you continued to lick at his heavy balls – your eyes locked with his.
“Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he choked out through groans, “Suck on ‘em, baby, suck on my balls.”
Blinking up at him you tried your best to fit one of them in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking greedily and lapping at the skin, before you moved on to treat the other with the same amount of love.
Joel’s mouth dropped open in a gape, his breath coming out quicker and more staggered. He squeezed himself harder at the base with each jerk before skating his thumb over the swollen head, massaging it. 
“Fuck,” he panted, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”
Popping his balls from your mouth you hurriedly sat up in front of him, the tip off his cock brushing over the plump of your bottom lip with every thug of his cock.
“Please, sir,” you begged, “Please, come in my mouth.”
Joel wasn’t one to deny your request, especially not when you were sat so pretty in front of him with your tongue sticking out.
A second later, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth and came – balls drawn tight as he shot his load down your throat. The force of it made you gag a little at first, the restriction around his sensitive cock only making him come harder. He groaned above you as you sucked him dry, before he pulled back when it was too much, and caught his breath.
“Say Ah,” he said, a gentle but firm hand cupping your jaw. The squeeze of his fingers made your mouth drop open to reveal the cum coated on your tongue and where it pooled at the back of your throat. “Don’t swallow– Let me see, darlin’.”
Your smile fought against his grip. Sticking your tongue out the best you could, you let him see the state he’d left you in; chin coated in saliva, tears starting to dry on your cheeks, mouth puffy and fucked, and marked in this stranger’s cum.
“Pretty as a picture,” he tutted before he let go of your jaw, and with a pat to your cheek finally gave you permission to swallow.
After that it was like the spell had broken between you. Joel helped you to your feet, both of you giggling when your legs wobbled like a foal unsteady on its feet. He held you upright with a strong hand to your waist, while the other one traveled up the length of your body to cup your face, and bring it closer to place a slow and sensual kiss to your lips.
“Would you believe me if I told you I’d never done anything like that before?” You asked him a moment later as he helped you clean your face by the sink.
Joel gave you a look in the mirror.
“You don’t?” you exclaimed.
Joel gave you an infuriatingly casual shrug, “It ain’t your first time suckin’ dick that’s for sure,” he teased with a pinch to your side which made you jump.
Giving him a playful shove, you said, “I’m not lying! I’ve never had a one-night stand.”
“Well, the night’s still young,” Joel joked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and dipping his head to place a soft kiss to the column of your neck.
You leaned into his touch, feeling the soft grip of his hands on your body, and the soft presses of his kisses as you watched the two of you in the mirror. You found that you liked the reflection looking back at you, and if you were lucky, you hoped he liked it too; maybe enough to want to see you again.
“I can’t go back out there like this,” you said after a moment.
Your dress had finally dried, but so had the beer – staining it yellow.
Joel lifted his head from your neck to rest his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scanned your body in the mirror. 
“I have a flannel in my truck I can borrow you?”
“More layers in this heat?” you questioned, already sweating at the thought.
A wide grin spread across Joel’s face, full of mischief, “I guess I’ll just have to take ‘em off of you later, then.”
Turning around in his hold, you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair curling at his neck as you met his eyes. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you whispered, painfully aware of the wet stain of arousal soiling your panties and sticking to your cunt.
“No, it doesn’t,” Joel hummed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. 
“Wanna get out of here?” you asked and brushed your lips over his.
A moment later Joel guided you out the restrooms with a protective hand resting at the small of your back. Weaving through the crowd, you’d made your way almost to the exit when you heard a shout of your name over the music.
“There you are!” Sarah shouted again as she moved through the crowd towards you and Joel, arms reached out to the sky.
“Oh! And you’ve finally met my dad!”
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i hope this was okay and that someone liked this? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3
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strang3lov3 · 6 months
Text
Spencer's
Summary: You and Joel visit Spencer's. You snag some toys, then steal some batteries from Joel for those toys. He's not pleased.
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Warnings: DRAMATIC!Joel, implied age gap, Joel is jealous of certain inanimate objects, Joel is winnie-the-poohing it, overstimulation, masturbation (m/f), general filth, unprotected piv, creampie, brat-taming (if you squint), spanking, use of sex toys, joel is pro-participation trophy, joel reads Savage Love, soft!dom joel, dom!joel, mall rats!joel
A/N: thank you thank you thank you to @papipascalispunk for editing and proofreading this story. I am so thankful for her help and lucky to know her 🩷
W/C: 4.3k
It’s patrol again. You’re in that old mall with Joel. And he’s quiet today, like he has been the past couple weeks. No shitty comments or dumb jokes. Hardly any of his usual grumbling, just quiet and stoic. He’s wearing a green flannel, sleeves rolled up. Beard recently trimmed, his hair a little less unkempt than usual. And he seems nervous, antsy, bouncing his foot as you both sit on a bench, taking a short break. 
You could help him relax. 
“Victoria’s Secret is back that way. Kinda wanna try on some more lingerie,” you suggest, hoping he’ll take the bait you’re offering.  
“Pass,” Joel says, “You know I don’t like that place.”
“You could watch. We had fun last time we did that, didn’t we?” you reach for Joel’s arm and try to pull him from his seat and toward that dreaded underwear store. He doesn’t budge. 
“Joel?” you ask, confused by his reluctance.
“I don’t know about all that, hon. Thinkin’ we should go to that bookstore, find some more books for the library back home,” Joel points toward a nearby Barnes & Noble, “Yeah?”
You shrug, “Sure, after.”
“After what?”
“This,” you lean toward Joel and grip onto the collar of his flannel, pushing it back to expose more of his neck. Pressing your lips to his throat, nipping and kissing the skin as your hand trails down his torso, fumbling with his belt. 
You’re not wasting time. 
“Oh,” Joel breathes shakily, “That.”
“Yeah,” you say with a satisfied smirk, “That.”
You nudge his head to the side with your nose and try to push him back into the bench, pushing his flannel further over his clavicle to expose more of his neck, but he stays firm. He grabs the hand fumbling with his belt and pulls it away. “I don’t think so,” he says. You pull away immediately and Joel looks at you with sympathy, concern. 
“What’s wrong? What’d I do?” you ask, feeling insecure, self-conscious all of the sudden.
“You didn’t do anything,” Joel says. 
It’s been a while since you’ve been with him, he knows you’re probably antsy for more because he is too. But he’s feeling apprehensive. Each time you’ve fucked, it’s been quick and dirty. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. He’s not sure what exactly your history with other men is, but Joel fancies himself a gentleman and believes in the campsite rule. Believes that you deserve better than what he’s been giving you. Starting with, say, a bed. You’re exhausting, troublesome, and you’re like a tick the way you get under Joel’s skin, but you still deserve decency. 
Decency won’t stop him from fucking the living daylights out of you, though. He’ll just be a little more gentlemanly about it all, moving forward.  
Joel clears his throat, “You’re young, you know. And I–”.
“And you what?” your tone is snarky.
“Jesus Christ, motormouth,” Joel snaps, “Would you let me finish speaking before you start arguin’?”
You shrug but remain silent, motioning for him to continue. 
“I just think we should do things by the book from now on. Dinner, talking, that kinda stuff. You know, I just want things to be sort of…nice for you. I dunno the word exactly, just...nice, I guess.” You watch Joel blush as he struggles to spell it out.
“Do you mean romantic? Like a date?" Excitedly, you gasp, "Are you taking me to the Rainforest Cafe?”
Joel stares at you blankly before speaking. Rainforest Cafe is a no-go, you're guessing. “No. Not romantic. And not like a date. A date is for two people that actually like each other.” 
And just like that, the attitude is back. He just exudes charisma. 
You pout, “You don’t like me?”
“No, I don’t. I barely tolerate you. But, you know. I still wanna - want you - I want us to…I don’t know,” Joel groans. It’s entertaining, watching him try to spit it out. 
Awh. He barely tolerates you.
You smile, “I barely tolerate you, too.” But Joel won’t look at you, keeps his eyes focused ahead. Still nervous, he fidgets with his hands and continues bouncing his leg.
“Was thinkin’ tomorrow,” Joel mutters quietly, “Y’could come over. Could be…nice. Maybe. Probably not, ‘cause you’ll be there.”
“Yeah. Sounds nice. Maybe. Probably not. ‘Cause you’ll be there too,” you mock his low tone. 
Joel glares at you, “Seven. My place. Be on time.”
After your break, you explore the mall further. There’s a store called Spencer’s, which looks neat. Joel agrees, unaware of exactly the kind of store Spencer’s is, so you both go inside. There’s funny t-shirts, cool knick-knacks and tchotchkes. Joel is looking at various lava lamps as you make your way toward the back, and he follows you. 
Holy shit.
There’s all sorts of things on this back wall. Handcuffs, lingerie, lubricants, vibrators, dildos, costumes.
“Wow,” you say, “Looks like your kind of party, Joel.”
Joel rolls his eyes, annoyed, “Shut up.”
“This looks nice. Not romantic at all,” as you poke Joel with a vibrator. 
He flinches, “Get that shit offa’ me, freakazoid.”
“We could use it tomorrow. On our not-date,” you smirk.
“Don’t need it,” he huffs. 
“Wow. You seem confident about that,” you say. Joel shrugs, a look on his face you can’t quite read. “Whatever. Maybe I’ll take it for myself. You know, for alone time.”
His face falls immediately. Joel, prudish as he may seem, truly does not have an issue with masturbation. It’s natural, it’s human. But something about you doing it makes it a little… jealousy-inducing. The thought of you, one of those toys between your thighs, you making all sorts of pretty noises that he can’t hear; it’s just too much for him. “Yeah, knock yourself out,” he says sarcastically, “You’ll have a lot of fun with a battery-less vibrator.”
“You still have some, don’t you?”
Joel scoffs, “I do. But they’re mine, and I sure as shit ain’t sharin’ with you, ‘specially not for those things.” 
“Sharing is caring, you know.”
Joel rolls his eyes, “S’a bold assumption you’re making there. That I care about you.” 
Rude. 
You poke him with the vibrator again. “Quit that,” he grumbles, “Now stay here a minute. Gonna take a leak, I’ll be right back.” He drops his bag and heads for a private area nearby. You stare at his bag on the floor and wonder if he’s fucking with you, because he never goes anywhere without his bag. Better to be safe than sorry is what he always says. And you know he keeps batteries in that bag. 
Ah, fuck it. He won’t know. 
There’s a sign that says “buy two toys, get one free”, and you’re not one to pass up a good deal, even if that deal means nothing now being twenty-or-so years into a fungus apocalypse. So you stuff three toys in your bag, along with one of the lava lamps Joel was checking out. You rifle through Joel’s belongings and pull out a handful of batteries, then stuff those into your bag too. Six should do it, hopefully. After twenty years, a lot of them are duds. You’ll try the toys out tonight, then sneakily put the batteries back in Joel’s pack tomorrow night on your not-date. And Joel will be none the wiser. 
—-
Joel is livid. 
Someone called off patrol today, so he was volunteered by Tommy to fill in. He’d still be back in time for your not-date, and although the change in his plans was not ideal, it’s not what set him off today. No, that was all you. 
His radio had died toward the end of his shift. No big deal, he thought. He reached into his pack and fumbled through his belongings to find his spare batteries. Only, they weren’t in his bag. So he searched a little longer before he realized he actually knew exactly where those precious batteries would be. No doubt inside you at the moment. 
Was he in danger without a working radio? Could’ve been, but no, not really. Will he never find batteries again? Yes, he will. Joel’s crafty and good at scouting supplies like that, even when supplies are sparse. What did pissed him off, however, is the fact he knows you consciously went behind his back to steal his batteries for those toys. You’ve probably spent all last night and all day today fucking yourself silly, couldn’t have waited just one more day. He feels a little insulted, topping off the jealousy already simmering.
Joel comes back to Jackson around five in the evening. He should be showering, cooking, setting the table, and tidying his house. But instead, he makes a beeline for your place. 
He doesn’t bother knocking on your door. He knows you keep it unlocked, something he constantly advises you against. He closes your door, and hears your long and pretty moans coming from upstairs. He’s not sure what’s coming over him or why he cares so much. He prides himself on being level-headed, rational. But all of that’s out the door when he hears your moans, moans that he believes should have been all for him and him alone. 
At least he gets to catch you in the act. 
Joel tiptoes up your steps, fighting his urge to stomp angrily. Your bedroom door is wide open, lights dim. There’s a lava lamp bubbling next to you on your nightstand. You’re laid out on the bed, legs spread, one toy between your thighs and two others lay next to you. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you moan Joel’s name. It’s a nice touch. Maybe he’ll go easy on you. 
Probably not. 
He stands in your doorway and clears his throat, “Enjoyin’ yourself?” 
“Joel!” you yelp and your eyes fly open. Joel moves to stand next to your bed, his gaze dark and intense, his mouth forming an unamused frown. 
“You think you’re slick, don’t you?”
Your words are caught in your throat. Ohh, you are so busted.
“How many’d you steal from me?”
The vibrating dildo you were fucking yourself with is still humming loudly, and in the otherwise silence of your room, it’s deafening. You fumble to try to turn it off. 
“Oh, no. Don’t let me interrupt your date. That’d be awful rude of me.” 
Too shocked to make any moves, you freeze, dildo still humming away inside you. And as anxious as you feel, you’re equally excited. You’ve picked up on Joel’s jealous side, and you’d be lying if you said some part of you wasn’t trying to rile him up. 
“I just, mmmm,” you moan, “Just missed you a lot. Couldn’t wait for tonight.”
“S’that right?”
“Yes, Joel.”
“You missed me so much you decided to deliberately go through my bag and steal my batteries?”, he spits, sarcasm lacing his words, “Yeah hon, sure looks like you missed me, fuckin’ yourself on that plastic cock.”
“Silicone,” you correct, though now definitely isn’t the time to bother with semantics. Joel notices you rocking your hips ever so slightly, chasing your orgasm as subtly as you can. You’re right, right fucking there. He can see it on you, you’ve got that look about you. Your breathing is shaky and your body trembles. 
“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve,” Joel hovers over you, one hand next to you on the bed and his other reaching for your toy. 
“Please,” you beg. 
“Think you’ve made yourself come enough, impatient goddamn brat,” he mumbles as he pulls the toy away from your center, tossing it aside. You groan and whine in frustration. Just three more seconds, you would have been there. 
Fucking Joel.
“I’m at a loss on what to do here, sweetheart,” Joel says as he kicks off his shoes before sitting on your bed, his back against the headboard, “Can’t fuckin’ take those batteries back on account of they’ve all been inside ya.”
“Joel, I did not fuck myself with your batteries. That’s…not how that works.”
“Shut up, wiseass.”
“Joel, I was gonna give them back, I swear. I just wanted–”.
Joel cuts you off, not caring to hear the rest of your explanation, “All half used and out of juice? How generous. Lucky me,” he muses, annoyed.
“Joel–”.
“Don’t think you fuckin’ get it,” he snaps, “Y’got no fuckin’ self control. You’re lyin’ to me, stealin’ from me, sneakin’ around. And it breaks my heart, ‘cause I was startin’ to look forward to our date.”
“Date?” you ask in confusion. Joel’s cheeks turn rosy as he refuses to acknowledge his slip up. The not-date turned actual-date. “Joel.”
“Need to get through to you somehow,” he ignores you, still too upset,  “Got a couple different ideas in mind. I guess we’ll have to see which one sticks.”
He pulls you up and over his lap, your head laying on the crumpled sheets. He presses a hand firmly on your neck, holding you in place as he gently runs his other hand over the swell of your ass. 
You know what’s coming. And it’s been a long time coming, at that. You've noticed the way Joel looks at you, his angry stare and how he chews on his inner cheek. How his hands ball into fists, like he’s fighting the urge to strangle you. Wrap his hands around your neck and just fucking squeeze. 
Crack. 
The sting of his hand striking your ass is as delicious as it is painful. He smacks you again, harder. And it’s just as incredible. That sharp bite, how it sends arousal gushing from your core. You can’t help the moan that slips from your mouth. 
Joel pulls you off his lap abruptly, onto your knees between his thighs, and faces you towards him. He wears a puzzled expression, like somehow he wasn’t aware that spanking is more of a reward than it is a punishment, at least to you. “Ya weren’t s’posed to enjoy that so much.”
“Joel–”.
“Yeah, we’re not doing that. Fuckin’ weirdo,” he interrupts, shaking his head a little. Joel thinks for a moment, staring at you as he contemplates his next move. His eyes flicker to yours, and you can practically watch the gears in his head begin to turn. “I think,” he lifts his hips to pull both his jeans and boxers down his thighs, and his cock springs free. It’s the first time you’ve really gotten to see it. Long and thick, prominent vein, blushed tip a bit wider than his shaft. Curly dark hair surrounding the base. It’s artwork. “Think we’ll try Plan B,” he says firmly as he reaches forward, wrapping one hand around himself to stroke his member, thumb swiping across the tip. 
It should be your hand. And he’s well aware of this, but he’s giving you a taste of your own medicine before moving on to the main event. You extend your arm in front of you, but Joel doesn’t allow it.  “Ah ah,” he tuts, slapping your hand away, “You can go play with one of your rubber cocks. Since you love ‘em so goddamn much.” His words are biting, acrimonious.
He’s throwing you off. Joel, who says he couldn’t give a “fiddler’s flying fuck” about you, is upset that your pleasure wasn’t brought on by his hands today. Joel, who barely tolerates you. “Joel, please, I want you. I’m sorry,” you cry, “I need you, Joel, been missing you so much. Please, Joel. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Layin’ it on pretty fuckin’ thick, sweetheart.” 
You cry in frustration, “Joel, I’m sor-”.
“Cut that shit out. You ain’t sorry. You’re sorry you got caught, ‘cause now you’re in trouble,” Joel keeps stroking himself, taunting you, “This is on you.”
Joel thinks back to when he was a teenager, when his father caught him with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, how his father’s punishment was to make him smoke the whole pack, and how before he was even halfway through the pack the nicotine had made him sick to his stomach. 
Same idea.
Still stroking himself, Joel grabs one of the vibrators sitting next to you. It’s a wand type, light pink in color. He holds down a button and it buzzes to life, “C’mere. Between my legs. Do it now,” his voice is stern, authoritarian. You assume the position. Joel parts your legs wider, pulling your knees back before guiding your hands to hold the backs of your knees, keeping you open nice and wide for him. “You stay like this. Don’t move.” His flannel feels soft and warm on your skin. You feel his hot breath on your neck, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. Wordlessly, he brings the vibrator to your core. He drags it over your lips, through your folds, coating it with your arousal. 
Joel circles your clit with the toy now, and your hips to follow the sensation. The way you’re sighing, moaning, grinding with his movements, Joel can tell you haven’t picked up what he’s putting down yet. 
Poor thing. Fucked herself stupid on all these plastic cocks. 
“Yeah, Joel, like that. Fuck, feels good,” you breathe, “Right there. S’good.”
Joel’s silence is disconcerting. There’s no dirty talk, no snide remarks like usual. But you’re too worked up to worry about why. Within seconds, you’re coming. Sweet, breathy moans and whines falling from your lips as you ride out your high. 
Joel presses the button on the vibrator, taking it up a notch. The buzz is louder, the feeling intense, nearing on too much. Finally, he speaks, “I really do hope your thievery was worth it, sweetheart,” he whispers in a low, raspy voice behind the shell of your ear, “Now tell me, exactly how many batteries am I short?” 
It’s getting uncomfortable now. You wrap your fingers around Joel’s wrist and try to pull him away from your core but he doesn't budge, “What? Joel, let up.”
“What’d I say? Hands on your thighs. Y’don’t move,” he barks. You do as you’re told, and he hums in satisfaction, “Now answer my question.” 
“I don’t know, six? I–oh, fuck. I was gonna give them back. Please, Joel, I can’t– ”
Joel scoffs, “Six? You stole six batteries. What, were you stashing them for winter? Squirrelier than I thought.”
“No, just…you know how sometimes, they-they-they, and they’re old, so–Joel, m’serious–”, you whine, almost pleading for mercy from the overstimulation he’s causing.
Joel pulls the vibrating wand from your core, and you exhale in relief, resting your head back on his shoulder. He’s showing you mercy. Or so it seems. 
But the sound of the vibrator clicking on is back in an instant. Slightly different pitch this time. You pull your head off his shoulder and watch in shock as he guides it to your pussy, notching the longer end inside. He doesn’t bother going slow as he parts your insides with the toy. You worked yourself up plenty.
“Whatever. Damage is done. So here’s the deal,” Joel starts, “You’re gonna come for me six times, one for each of the six batteries you stole from me. You’re gonna keep count, too. Got one down, right?” but you’re a mess of whimpers and whines, which is the wrong answer, “Or are we doin’ more?”
“One, one, we’re at one. Oh, god. Joel, please. Please.”
“Y’don’t even know what you’re beggin’ for,” Joel mumbles. His hand crosses over both his and your bodies to hold your jaw firmly, keeping your sight set on the picture between your thighs. The toy sliding in and out of you, wet and sticky with your juices. The shorter end sliding over your clit. He’s hitting your g-spot with precision, each thrust sending you closer to the edge. Within seconds, you’re seeing stars as Joel fucks you through it. 
“Count,” he demands. “T-two,” you moan, but Joel doesn’t relent. A third washes over you just as quickly as the previous one. “Three, s’too much Joel, please,” you beg.
“Quit whinin’,” he mocks, “I’m goin’ easy on ya, considering the fuckin’ stunt you pulled. You wanna make it more?”
“No, please. M’so tired.”
“Quit your whinin’. S’a punishment. Ain’t supposed to feel good,” he growls, “You’re gonna give me my batteries’ worth out of these little fuck toys. Make you come until you can’t fuckin’ walk.” You’re still holding your knees back as Joel fucks you through your third orgasm. The hand that was holding your jaw is now traveling lower, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples. Hot, salty tears of overstimulation and exhaustion roll down your cheeks. You’re shaking, trembling, and he knows it’s all too much. He wonders how many times you came before he showed up. So Joel decides to show a bit of mercy, feeling that pulling three orgasms from you is sufficient enough. For now.
He pulls the toy from your pussy and tosses it on your nightstand. He gives you a moment to breathe, to let your legs down. He rubs deep and firm circles into your sore, aching hips before lifting your limp, pliant body up to straddle his lap and face him. His eyes are soft and sincere, his quiet way of telling you he’s still here. And when this is all done, he’s gonna take care of you.
He’s still gonna fuck the living daylights out of you, though.
“You’re doin’ so good,” he tells you, “Almost there.” You nod and Joel lifts your hips, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance and pulling your aching pussy down onto his cock with a soft groan, slower than he did with the toy. He knows you’re sore. 
He fucks you deep and hard, just how you like. You fall forward, resting your forehead on the thick line of muscle between his neck and shoulder. Whimpering his name into his hot skin, moaning somewhere between agony and ecstasy, “I-Joel, I'm serious. It’s t-too much, please.”
“I know it is,” he whispers as he bounces you on his cock, chasing his own release, hanging by a thread with the way you’re squeezing around him. You think Joel is feeling sympathetic maybe, as he decides to offer a compromise. “I’ll make–oh, fuck,” he gasps, “Make ya a deal.” You mumble incoherently against him, and Joel sits you upright, his cock stiff and filling deep inside you. 
“Right here. Look at me,” he breathes out, gently gripping your jaw to tilt your face up. You look at him with burning, tear stained eyes. He can see the exhaustion on your face. “Breathe, sweetheart,” he coos, “How many left you owe me?”
“Three,” you answer, breathlessly.
“Mhm,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly, “I know you’re tired, honey. Probably pretty sore. S’that right?”
“Yes, Joel.”
“Christ, poor thing. What a mess you got yourself into. I know you didn’t mean to, hmm?” You nod in agreement quietly as he fucks you a little more gently, offering you a slight break. “Just curious, wanted to have some fun, huh? I know how ya are,” his tone is soft and kind, but still teasing. 
You smile with a slight shrug. 
“Tell me you’re sorry for stealing, and you only have to give me one more tonight. Just gotta apologize, real nice f’me.”
“Mmm,” is all you can muster. You’re so spent, muddled and incoherent noises seem to be the only sounds your voice can make. 
“Words, c’mon now, baby. ‘I’m sorry, Joel’,” he instructs you.
“I’m sorry, Joel,” you repeat, “For taking your batteries.”
“There ya go, sweetheart. That's it. Good girl,” he praises.
You sigh and collapse on his chest once more as Joel snakes a hand between your bodies. He finds your clit, his fingers warm and soft. With your face against his body, you bite down on his shoulder as his fingers begin rubbing slow, precise circles over your aching clit. No toy in the world could compare to the way his touch makes you feel. 
Just one more. 
He starts to fuck you deeper again, his free hand sliding up your up to grip around the base of your neck as he thrusts up into you, bouncing you on his cock. You’re liquid in his hands as he continues to steadily work your clit. That all too familiar pooling heat in your core is building back up for the last time, this one far more intense than the previous three orgasms he’s pulled from you. It crashes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Joel feels your body tremble and shake, your fluttering walls choking his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him as he spills inside of you, filling you up with loads of his hot seed. 
God, how you missed that. Missed him.
It could have been minutes, maybe hours that you stayed seated on his cock like that, just breathing with Joel. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, strokes your hair.
Finally, you sit up and extricate your body from his to remove the batteries from the toys. “Here,” you hand them to him.
Joel wears kind of an affected scowl on his face as he takes them from you. “Batteries feel light.”
“Sorry,” you say.
Joel smiles softly, his eyes glimmering as he hands them back to you, “Keep ‘em. Got a stash at home anyhow. Now get dressed.” 
“Why?”
“Jesus, sweetheart. Y’got the memory of a goldfish. Cause we’re havin’ dinner, that’s why.” 
You bite your lip and smile mischievously, “Because it’s a date.”
“No. S’not a date, wiseass. You’re a lady and you deserve…hey-”, Joel stops himself, noticing the bubbling lava lamp next to you, green with blue bubbles, like the one he was eyeing back in Spencer’s, “S’a cool lava lamp. I always wanted one.”
“I know,” you smile shyly, “Picked it out for you. Just wanted to make sure it worked first.”
Please please please reblog, comment, send me asks! Talk to me! Your interaction means the world!
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cavillscurls · 4 months
Text
daddy next door | masterlist
daddy dom!joel miller x f!reader
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summary: it’s summer in texas, and when the dashing joel miller moves in next door, your less than favorable life gets completely turned around.
general warnings/tags: MDNI. 18+. foul language. alcohol consumption. no-outbreak!joel. neighbor!joel. non-canon joel. sarah exists. slow-ish burn. daddy kink. dom/sub dynamics. soft!dom joel. dd/lg dynamics (no infantilization of reader). submissive reader. sub space. implied heavy age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel is in his 50s). heavy smut. pet names. size kink. somewhat corruption/innocence kink (all consensual). domestic abuse & alcoholism (readers father). sexual harassment (not joel). major daddy issues. depictions of anxiety. moodboard for aesthetics only. see respective chapters for additional warnings.
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ONE | welcome to the neighborhood
TWO | summer lovin’
✧ drabble | darling, hold out your hand (joel’s pov)
THREE | trust fall (in progress)
FOUR | i’ll keep you safe
FIVE |
*total number of chapters undetermined*
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EXTRAS ��
daddy!joel inspo pics
series inspiration tag
adorable edit by @gasolinerainbowpuddles
playlist
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joelmillerisapunk · 1 month
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unbelievable
mechanic!Joel x f!reader
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masterlist
wordcount: 4,489
summary: the 'It's not just your car that needs fixing, is it?' Trope
warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, lots of fingering, there's a joint, lots of 'sweetheart', some aftercare but like a bit different (I don't wanna spoil it) mentions of anxiety (bc I'm an anxious bltch and this would happen to me) fluffy smut?
notes: hiii 🥰 I hope you like mechanicJoel because I fell in love with him so fast, he has no right being so hot 🙃 The title is unbelievable by diamond rio, it felt pretty accurate to my inner Joel dialogue. a big thank you to @saradika-graphics & @firefly-graphics for the dividers (graphic designers deserve the world honestly)
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You've always had a thing for rugged men, and Joel Miller is the epitome of a handsome, rough-around-the-edges mechanic. His strong hands, grease-stained clothes, and confident demeanor make your heart race every time you see him, which has been a lot recently since your old car has been having its fair share of problems.
It's a hot summer day, and you decide to visit the garage where Joel works, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. As you walk in, the smell of oil and gasoline fills your nostrils, making you feel a little lightheaded. But then, you see him. He's hunched over a car engine, his muscular arms covered in sweat and grime. Your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight of him.
You approach Joel, trying to act cool and collected, even though your insides are turning to jelly. "Hey, Joel," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "I was wondering if you could help me with my car again. It's been making a weird noise, and I don't know what to do."
Joel looks up at you, his beautiful brown eyes meeting yours. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of grease on his face. "Sure thing, sweetheart," he says with an almost knowing grin. You've been coming to see him every couple of weeks for the past few months. "Let me take a look for you, darlin."
As Joel inspects your car, you can't help but steal glances at his muscular physique. You imagine what it would be like to run your hands over his firm chest and his stomach, to feel his stubble scratch against your skin as he kisses you. The thought makes you wet, and you squirm, trying to hide your arousal.
But Joel notices. He looks up at you, his gaze intense and seductive. "You seem a little flustered, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and husky. "Is there something on your mind?"
You swallow hard, trying to gather your nerves. The heat in the garage is making you feel more and more flustered, and the idea of Joel noticing your arousal only adds to your embarrassment. "Uh, yeah, I guess so," you manage to reply.
Joel's eyes rake over your body, taking in the way your shirt clings to your body and the way your nipples are hardening under the hot conditions. "I can tell you've been coming to see me for a while now. It's not just your car that needs fixing, is it?"
Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can feel the heat rising to your face. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," you stammer, trying to deny the truth even to yourself.
But Joel isn't backing down. He steps closer to you, his body towering over yours. "I can help you with your car, sweetheart," he says, his voice a low growl. "But if you're looking for something else, something a little more personal, I can do that too."
Your mind is racing as you try to figure out what to do. On one hand, you've always had a thing for rough-and-tumble men like Joel, and the idea of being with him is almost too much to bear. On the other hand, you're not sure if you're ready for something like that with someone you're not even dating. As you stand there, frozen in indecision, Joel reaches out and gently takes your hand in his. "It's okay, darlin," he says, his voice soft and reassuring. "You don't have to decide right now. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
Joel continues working on your car, he takes his time, making sure to do everything a little slower. He runs his hand over the engine, and with every turn of the wrench and every adjustment of parts, you can't help but feel your heart race, your skin tingle, and your body heat up. He's wearing a pair of tight jeans that hug his thighs, and every time he bends over the car, you catch a glimpse of the outline of his bulge. You wonder what it would feel like to touch him there, to feel him hard and ready against your skin. Your mind races with fantasies of him taking you, claiming you, making you his in ways that go far beyond the mechanical fixings of a car.
Joel takes a bit of a break from your car, and you think he's about to tell you what was wrong with it. "You know, sweetheart, I could fix more than just your car," he repeats himself again, " I could fix all your problems, make you feel good in ways you've never felt before."
You swallow hard, trying to find your voice. "What do you mean?"
Joel grins, a knowing look in his eyes. "I mean, I could show you the kind of fixings that only a man like me can provide," he says, his voice low and seductive. "Make you mine, take you right here. I promise you, it's something you'd never forget.”
“Oh, uh I, uhm I need to -” You pause, looking at your phone, “I have a thing soon. So I should uh go when you're done.” You can barely keep yourself together as you fumble through your sentence.
Joel smirks, "Of course, sweetheart," he says, his voice reassuring. "When you're ready, I'll be here.”
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As you exit the garage, you feel a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through your veins. Joel's words have left you feeling both turned on and terrified at the same time.
You spend the next few hours trying to shake off the encounter, but your mind keeps wandering back to Joel's words and the way his body made you feel. You can't stop thinking about the way his muscles bulged under his tight jeans, or the way his hair curled, his strong jawline, or the way those lips would part everytime he would focus on your car. You want to touch him, taste him, feel him- anything. And you're desperate to hear him speak that sexy accent of his once again.
When you finally arrive home, you let yourself into your apartment and immediately head straight for your bedroom. You shed your clothes as fast as possible, trying to rid your entire day from your skin. After your shower, you pull on a pair of shorts, your favorite oversized t shirt before padding barefoot across the carpeted floor of your room.
Just as you're opening your bedroom door to get a snack, your phone rings. You glance at your screen - a number with no name showing up - before answering the call, your heart pounding in anticipation. “Hello?”
You can hear a woman's voice in the background, "I told you not to come in my office. You can't just call random clients." Then you hear a muffled males voice and the woman again. "Yes... I understand she hasnt paid, but we don't contact clients until the end of the month."
You sit there unsure of what to do, should you say something? Should you hang up? Should you ignore her? Suddenly, you hear yelling. "Out - now!" she exclaims before apologizing for the misunderstanding and hanging up the phone on you. As you hang up the phone, you can't help but feel a sense of confusion and disappointment wash over you. You had been hoping that it was Joel on the other end of the line and that he was calling to follow up on his earlier proposition. But instead, it seems like you were caught in the middle of a heated exchange between a man and a woman, and you can't help but wonder what it all means.
You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You know that you can't let yourself get too caught up in the idea of Joel. You need to focus on yourself and your own needs rather than getting swept up in the allure of a man you barely know. You've got plenty of people who love you, and it's better to prioritize your relationships than get carried away with a man like Joel. You know you wouldn't be able to handle it.
But then suddenly here you are. You take a deep breath and steel yourself as you walk back into the garage, hoping to catch Joel before he leaves for the day. The receptionist gives you a disapproving look as you enter, but you ignore her and make your way towards Joel, who has just finished up with a customer. As you approach, Joel looks up and sees you, a small smile spreading across his face. "Hey there, sweetheart," he says, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."
You swallow hard, trying to find the right words. "I, uh, I had some questions about my car," you say, trying to sound casual. "I figured I'd come down and ask you in person."
Joel raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. Instead, he nods towards the back of the garage, inviting you to follow him. As you walk, you can't help but notice the way his muscles ripple under his shirt or the way his jeans hug his hips. You feel a heat creeping up your neck, and you hope he doesn't notice.
Once you're in the back, Joel crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you with a serious expression. "Listen, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and intense. "I know what you're doing, and I want you to know that it's not going to work."
You furrow your brow, confused. "What do you mean?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.
Joel takes a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I mean that I know you're trying to avoid what's going on between us," he says, his voice softening. "And I get it. I know I'm not the easiest person to be around." You open your mouth to protest, but Joel holds up a hand to stop you. "But I also know that there's something between us, something real and intense," he continues. "And I don't want to ignore it anymore."
You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "What are you saying?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Joel takes another step closer to you, his body almost touching yours. "I'm saying that I want you, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and seductive. "I want to make you feel good, to show you things you've never experienced before."
Your mind is racing as you try to process what Joel is saying. On one hand, you're terrified of the intensity of your feelings for him so soon, of the way he makes your heart race and your skin tingle. On the other hand, you can't deny the attraction you feel towards him, the way your body responds to his voice alone.
As you stand there, frozen, Joel reaches out and gently takes your hand in his. "It's okay, darlin," he says, his voice soft and reassuring.
You know that you have a choice to make, a decision to make about what you want and what you're ready for. And as you stand there, looking into Joel's beautiful brown eyes, you know that you're ready. Without saying a word, you lean in and press your lips to Joel's, feeling the heat and passion of his kiss. Joel responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. You can feel the strength and power of his body. As Joel deepens the kiss, he reaches down and gently lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you over to a nearby workbench. He sets you down gently, cupping your face in his hands, "Be right back, sweetheart, don't go anywhere.”
Just as Joel turns to lock up, the receptionist calls out, "Joel, she can't stay here. She's not an employee."
Joel turns to her, his expression stern. "I'll take care of it, Linda," he says. "Just go home."
Linda looks taken aback, but she doesn't argue. She grabs her things and leaves the garage, shooting you a disapproving look as she goes.
Once she's gone and the doors are locked,Joel walks back over to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. He pulls a small joint out of his pocket and holds it up for you to see. "Ever tried this before, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.
You shake your head, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "No, I haven't," you admit.
Joel grins, lighting the joint and taking a deep drag. He holds it out to you, his eyes locked on yours. "Here, let me show you," he says.
You lean in, taking a tentative puff on the joint. The smoke is harsh and unfamiliar, but the sensation of Joel's hand on your back, guiding you, is intoxicating. You feel a warm, tingly sensation spreading through your body. He pulls back, his eyes shining with desire as he takes another drag. "You like that, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice low and husky.
You nod, unable to speak. You've never smoked weed before, but with Joel, it feels right. It feels intimate and exciting, like you're sharing a secret that only the two of you know. For a while, the two of you just stand there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away, like you're the only two people in the entire world, and it's a feeling you never want to let go of.
But eventually, the joint burns down to nothing, and the two of you are forced to come back to reality. Joel grins, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, his lips are soft and gentle, his tongue exploring your mouth as he deepens the kiss. You can feel the warmth of the weed spreading through your body, making you feel relaxed and happy.
As you kiss, Joel's hands roam over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist and the swell of your breasts. You moan softly, your body responding to his touch. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your clit throbbing with desire.
Joel breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire. "I want you, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and intense. "I want to make you feel good.” You nod, your body trembling with anticipation. You want him too, more than anything. You want to feel his hands on your body, his lips on your skin. You want to feel him inside you, filling you up and making you his.
Joel's fingers find the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head. He tosses it aside, his eyes raking over your body. You're wearing a lacy bra, the color of pale pink. Joel's fingers trace the lines of your bra, his touch gentle and teasing. You can feel your nipples hardening under the lace, your body begging for more.
"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Joel says, his voice low and husky. "I can't wait to taste you." With a quick motion, he removes your bra, throwing it to the floor.
He leans in, his mouth closing over one of your nipples. His tongue flicks at the hard peak, making you gasp with pleasure. Joel's hands roam over your body. He reaches down, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down, his fingers tracing the lines of your lacy panties. You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy. Joel's fingers find the edge of your panties, tugging them aside. His fingers trace the outer lips of your pussy, his touch gentle and teasing.
Joel's fingers find your entrance, sliding inside you with ease. You gasp with pleasure, your body responding to his touch. He starts to move his fingers inside you, faster, his touch more urgent. You can feel the orgasm building inside you.
"Fuck, sweetheart, so fuckin' tight," Joel growls.
You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Joel's fingers continue to work their magic.
And then, suddenly, you're there.
You cry out as you come, your orgasm ripping through you like wildfire. Joel's fingers continue, drawing out your pleasure until you're left weak and trembling in his arms. “S'okay baby, s'okay, you did so so good for me sweetheart.”
As your orgasm subsides, Joel pulls his fingers out of you, his eyes dark with desire. He licks his fingers clean, his tongue tracing the lines of your juices. You watch him, your mouth parted like you just watched him lick the tastiest ice cream cone.
Joel reaches down, his fingers finding the button of his jeans. He undoes it, tugging his jeans down over his hips. He's not wearing any underwear, and his cock springs free, hard and ready.
You can't help but stare, your eyes wide with desire. Joel's cock is long and thick, the head dark and swollen. You can see a drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip, and you can't wait to taste it. Joel steps closer to you, his cock brushing against your thigh. You can feel the heat of it, the hardness. You reach out, your fingers wrapping around the shaft. Joel groans, his head falling back as you start to stroke him. You can feel his body trembling, his cock twitching in your hand. You stroke him faster, your hand moving up and down the shaft. Joel's hands roam over your body. He reaches down, tugging your panties off in one swift motion.
You're completely exposed now, your pussy on full display. Joel's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, his cock throbbing in your hand.
"Fuck, you look so hot," Joel growls.
You've never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But with Joel, it feels right. It feels exciting and thrilling, he reaches down, his fingers finding your clit. He starts to rub, his touch gentle and teasing.
"Do you like that, sweetheart?" Joel asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, unable to speak. "You're so fucking hot,," Joel growls. "I can't wait to taste you."
He drops to his knees in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. He reaches up, his fingers tracing your inner thighs. You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy. Joel's tongue finds your clit, gentle and teasing. You gasp with pleasure, your body responding to his touch. Joel's tongue moves lower, tracing the outer lips of your pussy. His tongue finds your entrance, pushing inside you. You can feel him exploring his tongue, tracing your walls. Joel's fingers find your clit again, rubbing in time with his tongue.
"Fuck, Joel, m’gonna come," you cry out grabbing onto his hair.
Joel doesn't stop, his tongue and fingers continuing, his eyes don't leave yours, it makes him almost painfully hard watching you come. You cry out as you come. Joel's tongue continues to lick at your pussy, drawing out your pleasure.
"You taste so fucking good, sweetheart," Joel growls, standing up.
He steps closer to you, his cock brushing against your entrance. Joel's hands find your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. "You ready for me sweetheart?
"Yes, please, Joel." He pushes inside you, his cock filling you up completely. You gasp with pleasure, your body responding to his touch. Joel starts to move, his hips thrusting against you. His cock hits that sweet spot inside of you with every stroke. Joel reaches down, his fingers finding your. You can feel your body trembling, your pleasure building higher and higher.
"Fuck, Joel, I'm gonna come again," you cry out, your voice hoarse with pleasure.
Joel's thrusts become more urgent, his fingers moving faster. You can feel your orgasm building, your body tensing with pleasure until you come again. Joel's thrusts become erratic, his body tensing as he reaches his own release. He groans, his cock twitching inside of you as he fills you with his seed.
The two of you lie there, panting and sated, your bodies still tangled together. Joel's forehead is pressed against yours, his eyes shining with desire and affection. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the beating of his heart against your chest.
"You're so fucking perfect, sweetheart," Joel murmurs, his voice low and husky.
You smile, feeling a sense of contentment. But even as those thoughts run through your mind, you also know that you can't let yourself get carried away. You barely know Joel, and there are things about him that you don't know. Important things.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you know you have to do. "Joel, I... I need to go," you say, your voice soft but firm.
Joel's expression changes, a hint of sadness and disappointment flashing in his eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice soft.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Suddenly, the walls feel like they're closing in on you, and you can't catch your breath. "I-I can't breathe," you manage to say, your voice shaking.
Joel's face falls, and he pulls you into a tight embrace. "It's okay, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice soothing. "Just breathe with me, in and out. You're safe, I've got you."
You focus on Joel's voice, trying to match your breathing to his. Slowly, the panic begins to recede, and you can feel your heart rate returning to normal. "I'm so sorry," you say, your voice still shaking. "I don't know what came over me."
Joel shushes you, his hand tracing circles on your back. "It's okay," he says. "You don't have to apologize. You've been through a lot today. It's okay to feel overwhelmed."
You nod, feeling a sense of shame wash over you. You wanted to be strong, to be brave, but instead, you fell apart.
Joel must sense your embarrassment because he pulls back and looks at you with a serious expression. "Hey, listen to me," he says, his voice firm. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You're allowed to feel however you feel, and I'm here, no matter what. Okay?"
You nod, feeling a sense of gratitude towards Joel. He's been so kind and understanding, even for someone who knows nothing about you and you can't help but feel drawn to him.
"Come on, sweetheart," Joel says, standing up and pulling you to your feet. "Let's get you out of here and into some fresh air. How about we go to my place and spend the night? I promise, no funny business."
You know it sounds crazy but a sense of relief washes over you as you agree. You don't want to be alone right now, and the thought of spending the night with Joel is weirdly comforting. As much as you know, you should probably just go home. Joel helps you get dressed, his hands gentle and reassuring. Once you're both dressed, he leads you outside and into his truck. He drives you to his house, his hand resting on yours the entire time. When you arrive, Joel leads you inside and shows you to his bedroom. He pulls back the covers and helps you climb into bed, tucking you in like a child. "Just rest, sweetheart," he says, his voice soft. "I'll be right back."
You nod, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over you. Joel returns a few minutes later with a glass of water. He helps you sit up and take a sip of water, then lays down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.
You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It's soothing, and you can feel yourself drifting off to sleep.
"Thank you, Joel," you murmur, your voice sleepy.
Joel kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. "Anytime, sweetheart," he says. "I'm always here for you."
As you drift off to sleep, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Joel. He's been so kind and understanding. For the first time in a long time, you feel safe, and you know that everything is going to be okay.
As you sleep, Joel watches over you, his eyes full of affection and concern. He's fallen for you, hard.
As the night wears on, Joel holds you close, his arms wrapped around you. He knows that you're not ready for anything serious, and he's okay with that. For now, he's just happy to be with you, to be there for you, to comfort you, and to make you happy.
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joelscruff · 1 year
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you know i don't mean it (joel miller x reader) 18+
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welcome to my 300 follower celebration! \o/ i polled my followers on which character they'd most like to see in some new smut and joel won (not surprised). this was supposed to be a drabble but ended up getting a bit longer than i anticipated, hope you enjoy! summary: you and joel get off together. that's pretty much it. you also have some unresolved feelings for him and he's being closed off. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: smut, age gap (reader is mid 20s, joel is mid 50s), praise kink (the term 'good girl' is used maybe 432534 times), dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics (but make it soft), mutual masturbation, come-play, come-eating, this is filthy word count: about 2.5k | ao3 link
"This is the last time," he mutters under his breath, belt buckle jangling as he lays down across from you, "We can't keep doin' this."
"Yeah, yeah," your hand is already buried in your panties, index finger lightly rotating against your clit, "That's what you said last week too."
He grunts and you watch as he slips his hand inside his jeans and palms himself, squaring his shoulders and trying to relax. He pretends he's doing this for your benefit, like its you who needs help getting off, as if he's not a middle aged man who hasn't been touched by a woman in years. And it's not like you haven't offered, you've genuinely tried to give yourself to him more than a few times, but it's simply a line he won't cross.
Other lines, however, are much easier to cross. It had started out relatively innocent, something that had happened completely by chance, or at least you both led yourselves to believe it was. You'd both had the same idea one night and had ended up getting off together in the same room, you in the chair beside the fireplace of the abandoned ski lodge you'd both been posted in, him on the couch.
"Are you -" he'd gasped into the darkness when he'd heard the wet sound of your fingers a few feet away, plunging in and out of yourself at a steady rhythm.
"Like you're not," you'd hissed back, "I'm not deaf."
"Thought you were sleepin'," he'd muttered, hand stilling on his cock where seconds ago he'd been stroking like his life depended on it.
"And that makes it less weird?"
He'd groaned, releasing himself and sitting up to squint at you in the darkness, "So what are you gonna do about it?"
You glared at him, not bothering to remove your hand from your underwear as you continued to finger yourself, breathing deeply, "I'm not gonna do anything about it, Joel. I'm gonna keep going. And you can stay here or you can go, doesn't matter to me."
After a few seconds of silence, he'd flopped himself back down on the couch and reached for himself again, fucking into his fist, "No talking," he said through his teeth, "Let's just do it and forget it even happened, deal?"
"Deal," you'd replied, and roughly added a third finger as you watched the dark silhouette of him jacking himself off barely six feet away from you.
One night turned into two, turned into five, and now ten. It wasn't every night, only when you were on patrol together. You'd privately asked Tommy to make sure that Joel was your patrol partner as often as possible, because you felt "safer" with him... you're not sure if he'd really believed you.
You're back in the ski lodge again tonight, both of you situated on the couch in your usual positions, on opposite ends and facing each other. It's ridiculous how quickly it's taken you both to get used to these sessions, the casual feeling of it making it even hotter somehow.
"How many fingers are you using this time?" Joel murmurs, eyeing you where you're touching yourself, unable to fully see what he'd like to.
"Up to you," you breathe, still prodding your clit, "How many do you want me to use?"
"Three," he replies, and you watch as he pulls his cock free from the confines of his jeans, jutting large and solid against his stomach, "Real slow, then real fast."
You nod, lifting your hips up to pull your panties free and expose yourself to him, legs wide.
"Stick to my rhythm," he tells you, watching as you trail your middle finger through your folds, "If I stop, you stop. If I tell you to stop-"
"I stop," you answer for him, throwing him a smug smile, "Same rules as always."
He stares at you without speaking, just waiting. You get the hint and begin to slide your finger inside slowly, making eye contact with him under your lashes and smiling languidly. He fists himself just as slow, looking down at your finger and licking his lips.
"Slow enough for you?" you whisper, adding a second and grinning when his eyes darken, "Should I go a bit faster?"
"Not yet," he whispers, thumbing the head of his cock and fucking into his hand at the same pace as your finger, "Keep it nice and slow for me 'til I say so."
You obey, fucking yourself with your middle and ring finger at the slowest pace you can muster. No matter how annoying his orders are you always do as you're told, not because you're afraid of any sort of consequence, but because you like seeing him enjoy himself, seeing him take control. You've only known him for about six months but you've known for a while that he's been lacking any sort of control in his life for a long time; you're glad to be the one who can give it to him.
"Add your third," he whispers and you oblige, slipping your index inside yourself alongside the others, "Good girl," he breathes, "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"
You nod, your smugness immediately starting to fade. When he talks to you like this, praises you, it's impossible to keep your hard exterior up for much longer, feeling yourself submit to him. In any other circumstance you love to challenge him, to argue, but in these moments it's the last thing on your mind. You do as you're told, and that's the end of it. He needs control, you need submission.
"Tell me," he whispers.
"I'm your good girl," you breathe, shivering and continuing to shove your fingers in and out at his pace.
He smirks, "Yeah you are."
You continue to fuck yourself at his painfully slow pace, watching him fist his cock at the same speed. He likes to tease you, to build you up until you're begging for it. You thumb your clit and start to whimper, legs trembling.
"Okay, faster now," he tells you, voice low and sultry, "Not too fast, though. Watch me," he tugs at his cock at a bit quicker of a pace, still much too slow for you but you can't do much else but obey him, mirroring him with the thrust of your fingers, "That's it, like that."
After several more thrusts he suddenly stops stroking himself, stilling in his palm. You groan, halting your movements, following the rules.
"How is it that you follow orders so God damn well when you've got your panties around your ankles?" he asks, voice rough, "Yet when we're actually patrollin' you don't listen to a word I say?"
"I'm not your good girl when we're patrolling," you reply with a teasing smile, "But I could be, you know."
He rolls his eyes, "Enough, it's not happening," he nods to your hand, still motionless at your core, "Play with your clit for a second, give me a chance to breathe."
There it is, the line he won't cross. You've already told him that you're willing to give yourself completely over to him, be exactly who he needs, but no matter how many times you try he just won't budge. It's disappointing, truly, because you really do like him. Sure, he's a bit of an ass, plus he's about thirty years older than you, but you've seen the side of him he doesn't show to others. Maybe only hints, but you've seen it. And you care about him.
"I don't do this with anyone else, you know," you whisper, pressing your index finger against your clit and rubbing small circles into it, "You're the only one I'd let treat me the way you do."
He looks at you curiously, raising an eyebrow, "I treat you good, don't I?"
You nod, whimpering a bit as you rub yourself harder, "You do, but you're the only one I'd ever submit to like this, you know that, right?"
He hums, brushes the wide head of his cock with the tip of his thumb, "I know, baby. But it feels so good, doesn't it? You like being my good girl, don't you?"
You bite down on your lip, core aching as your fingers lay still against your folds, save for the index that continues to furiously stimulate your clit, "I do," you whisper, cheeks warming, "I fucking love it."
"There you go," he murmurs softly, then begins to move his fist again, "Use your fingers again, baby, get your pussy all full for me."
You don't need telling twice, your three fingers plunging deep inside yourself without any hesitation. You whimper when your fingertips brush against your favorite spot, so close yet so far. You eye Joel's cock and try to imagine what it would feel like for it to really be inside you, the fat tip of it pounding relentlessly against the deepest parts of your cunt, his girth stretching you out so much your whole body would be shaking. You feel your mouth drop open involuntarily, brow furrowing.
He follows your gaze and frowns at you, pumping himself a bit faster, "You can't have it," he whispers, like he can read your mind, "I know you want it, pretty girl, but you can't. I'm sorry."
"Why?" you mewl, sounding absolutely pathetic as you keep fucking yourself, "I want it so bad, Joel."
"I know you do," he closes his eyes and leans his head back, "Don't ask me why, you just can't."
You'd pout, tease him a little, but he's not looking at you anymore and it physically makes you ache, the way he avoids any allusion to actual sex, an actual relationship. You've asked him so many times and it's always the same answer, never a real reason. You wish you knew why, wish you knew if there was anything at all you could do to make him open up to you.
Instead you mirror his position, tilting your head back against the arm of the sofa and fucking up into yourself, listening to his labored breathing and the slap of skin whenever his fist hits his belly.
"Fast as you can now, baby," he mutters gruffly, close to the edge, "Need you to come for me, need you to be good."
"I'm always good for you, aren't I?" you whimper, opening your eyes to peer at him again, "I always listen, I never break your rules."
"That's right."
"So why can't you fuck me?" you sit up suddenly, yanking your fingers out of yourself and looking at him angrily. He sits up just as quickly, eyes narrowing as he releases his cock and stares at you, "I'm serious, Joel. I want an actual answer."
"You just broke a rule," he mutters and you sigh exasperatedly.
"I'm sorry for breaking the rules," you genuinely mean it; you know how important this control is for him, but you can't help it, "I'll submit again if you just tell me why you won't fuck me. Do you...do you not want me? Is that it? 'Cause I can accept that, I just want to hear you say it. I'm sick of not knowing."
He stares at you incredulously, hand coming up to squeeze the space between his brow and nose, "Jesus, of course I want you, but it's not that simple."
"Yes it-"
"It's not," he interrupts you, shaking his head, "I can't...this isn't..." he exhales deeply, "This isn't the time for this conversation, okay?" You hear raw emotion in his voice, buried deep but still present. Fuck, you didn't mean to make him feel bad.
"...Okay," you finally whisper, "I'm sorry."
"S'okay," he runs a hand through his hair, "Look, we can stop-"
"No," you lean back and open your legs wide again, putting yourself on display for him, "No, I wanna be your good girl again, please let me."
"We don't-"
"Joel," you whimper, slipping your fingers back inside, "Let me be your good girl."
His hard expression fades, eyes softening as he peers at you, watching you fuck himself for him.
"It's all yours, even if you won't touch me," you whisper, using your other hand to pull yourself open for him, showing him how full you are, feeling your orgasm start to build in your tummy, "It's yours," you repeat, whimpering.
He nods, stroking himself again hard and fast, brow furrowing in pleasure as he keeps his eyes trained on you, "That's right," he murmurs, "It's mine. You're mine."
You close your eyes tight, "I'm gonna come."
"Go ahead, pretty girl," you hear him groan, the snap of his wrist making you completely come undone, "Squeeze around those fingers, pretend they're mine, okay? You can do that, you can pretend."
You shudder at his words and feel your orgasm overtake you, the image of Joel's thick fingers pounding into you enough to send you over the edge. You moan loudly, crying out his name and tossing your head back as you come.
"Good girl," he groans, voice strangled, "Such a good fucking girl for me."
You close your eyes as you ride out the waves of your release, fingers still pumping gently inside of you until it's too much and you pull them out. Sighing contentedly, you open your eyes again and watch Joel relentlessly fuck into his fist, belt buckle still jangling against the couch as he gasps. You want nothing more than to reach forward and take him in your own hand, help him ride out his own release, but you don't. Because those are the rules.
Instead you just watch him, smile at him as he shuts his eyes tight and groans deeply, coming into his fist. You watch the thick white liquid cover the sides of his fingers and you involuntarily salivate, jaw going slack.
"Fuck," you breathe, "Wish I could taste you."
He groans again, hand stilling as he breathes heavily and starts to come down, eyes closed. You sit quietly, panties still hanging off one of your ankles. You'd usually already be putting your clothes back on at this point, but something tells you to stay still, don't move, he's gonna do something different.
He swallows and looks up at you, stares at you for a few moments. You're unsure whether the regular Joel is about to come back, tell you it's time to go back on patrol, grab your gun and be quiet. Or is this still your Joel, the one who tells you you're pretty and good, makes you feel less alone in this shitty world.
"Here," he says, shaking his head and bringing his come-coated fingers up to your mouth, "If you wanna taste, you have five seconds."
Your mouth pops open in surprise, hesitating only for a second before you lean forward and wrap your lips around his fingers, feeling the salty taste of him flood your mouth. Your cunt begins to throb again, your eyes closing as you suck and lick and take everything he's giving you. When you open your eyes again he's still looking at you, but his expression is soft, tender.
"Good girl," he murmurs.
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this is now a series, and other parts can be found on my masterlist.
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chloeangelic · 8 months
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Belong to me, I: Chosen  
Line cook Joel x waitress reader
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Line cook Joel AU masterlist
Summary: You desperately want a baby and hope that your grumpy coworker will help make your dream a reality.
Warnings:  Smut, yearning, mild angst, age gap (Joel is 40, reader in her late 20s), mild brat taming, creampie, breeding kink, size kink, description of glass related injury/blood, social smoking, dom Joel (not degrading), ovulation sex, unprotected PIV, mutual pining, rough sex, size kink, ass play.
A/N: Posted a day early cause of the overwhelming response on the masterlist🥺🤍 I'm turning this into an AU that I can post to at random and just kinda use as a creative free space like I did with this, so there will be more parts :))
Word count: 4.8k Rating: 18+
You had a dream one night. 
A dream that you were holding a child, your child, a little baby who came from you, whose home was your body for the overwhelming majority of her life. You held her in your arms, cradled her, ran the very tip of your finger over her little nose, stroked her soft cheek and looked into her eyes, seeing yourself in their reflection. 
You had dropped her off at your friend’s house to watch her while you went and visited your parents, but when you returned, you could not find her. You searched and searched, asked every person you came across if they had seen her, but nobody had. And when you woke up, you felt that same gut wrenching anxiety over your missing child that you felt in the dream. Like she was still out there, but you had no way of getting to her.  
And ever since then, you’ve felt a vacancy in your heart somehow, a pull towards something intangible, something you know you will love and cherish with your whole heart and take care with all the energy you can muster, as soon as it is in your hands. 
Yearning. 
A deep, almost excruciating yearning for a baby, the baby in that dream, a baby you will not have anytime soon if you are dependent on the presence of a husband or even a boyfriend to provide you with one. For as long as you can remember, you have wanted to be a mother, and it feels as though your opportunity is slipping through your fingers, even at your young age, as you watch friend after friend go off with their significant other and establish families, and you’re still single, not even looking for a special someone.
You want what they have, unbearably so, and have gotten to a point where you think you might crumble if you never get the chance to raise a child, but the idea of dating does not appeal to you, and you would rather just do it all yourself. 
One time your friend asked you, “If someone put a gun to your head and told you that you have to have a kid with someone right now, who would you choose?”. You didn’t have an answer at the time, but you do now. It’s been simmering in the back of your mind for a while; the answer to that question. You’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, about how it feels like the right time for you to have this baby you so desperately want. 
During the afternoons and evenings, you serve tables at a busy restaurant downtown. It’s not the world’s most interesting job, but you think you’re generally well liked at that establishment, you’re friends with everyone, and the shifts go by relatively quickly. 
You walk in through the large doors, waving to Maddy as she escorts a couple to their table, swinging past the bar stools, making your way to the back office to take off your jacket and slip into your heels, giving your hair a quick look over in the mirror before you walk into the kitchen.
And there he is - the answer to your friend’s question. Too tall for the countertops and always hunched over, too broad for the narrow hallways at the back of the house. Big, very big, so muscular, with shoulders and biceps so large you wonder if he spends all his free time working out. Grumpy, never in what one would call a 'good mood', convinced that approving or disapproving grunts count as full answers when someone asks him something. 
Joel, a scowling and silent mountain of a man. 
Sometimes you sneak out during his break just to chat him up behind the restaurant, even stealing smokes from your coworker to give him a reason to spend more time with you. His scent is intoxicating every time you sit there huddled next to him, especially when it’s cool out and you shove your entire body into the side of his arm and his thigh, his skin as hot as a furnace.
Even his sweat, at the end of the worst shift one can possibly imagine, smells good. He smells like cologne and fresh laundry and what you presume to be combo shampoo and body wash considering he doesn’t give much of a fuck about anything that isn’t his daughter and he’s not exactly what one would call vain.  
It seems, however, as if he gives a little bit of a fuck about you.
Sometimes it even feels like he looks out for you. 
And you wouldn’t have had this suspicion had it not been for the fact that you brutally cut your hand on a shard of glass a few months back when a vase tumbled and you stupidly tried to catch it. You looked at your bloody hand, heard the snap of Joel’s fingers and a few commands before you were suddenly in his truck on the way to the ER.
He sat there with you, pressing a wad of gauze to the cut until you were called in by the doctor, waited until you came out, then stopped at the pharmacy to get an excess of things you might need, and drove you home. He even stayed with you until you were fed and passed out watching a movie on your couch. 
After that day, you’ve felt like his eyes are always on you, his scowl seeming more concerned than menacing, his hands suddenly there to catch you every time you’re about to trip over yourself. Something about the feeling of being protected by him has made your heart and ovaries twist around themselves, making that yearning for a baby incredibly urgent.
You want his baby now, whether he’s present or not, and you’ve decided that you’re gonna ask him for a little favor when ovulation comes around and you feel slick and needy and desperate for his come. 
Which just so happens to be tonight. 
The restaurant seems to get busier the second you step into the dimly lit lounge, sending you back and forth between the kitchen and your tables more times than you can count, trying to think of how to formulate yourself, how not to scare him off. 
You eventually check the time and see that it’s close to Joel’s usual forced break time, and decide that you might as well take your own break now too, needing to speak to him as soon as possible. So you hear the clicks of your heels as you nearly run through the kitchen, grab the lighter from the office and push open the doors to see him already sitting there outside, his face tilted up so the sun hits his skin and bounces off the silver in his otherwise brown hair. 
“You mind?” you ask as you close the door, and he nods for you to sit down next to him, already reaching down to commit coworker theft. It always feels casual, calm, even relaxing in some way, to sit out here with him, but tonight you’re on the edge, knowing he’ll never speak to you again if your request falls flat. 
He puts the cigarette between his lips and looks at you while he waits for you to light it, but your hands tremble around the lighter as you try to hold it up. His eyes narrow for a moment, then his hands come up to hold around yours, making them disappear under his large palms, holding them steady and looking into your eyes until the flame catches and he pulls back. “What’s on your mind?” he asks, his accent slurring the words together slightly.
You have a speech ready, an explanation about this longtime want and need and yearning to become a mother, a rationale for why you’re ready, why you want to do this as a single woman in her late twenties, an excuse for why you don’t want to go to a clinic and find a donor who’s a Harvard graduate in his early thirties.
Why it is you want him, Joel, to be the one to give this to you, and how he doesn’t have to do anything, emotionally or physically or financially, when you finally get what you want. 
But your plan falls flat as you open your mouth, your gaze locked to his dark eyes. “I wanna have a baby” is all that comes out, breathy and longing and absolutely not casual like you planned. 
You watch as he flicks the ashes off the cigarette and takes a drag, looking at you with an unreadable expression, then exhaling away from you before he says, “Sweetheart.. The fuck does that gotta do with me?”. 
You roll your eyes at him, never threatened or intimidated or insulted by his tone. There is something you find oddly charming about his ability to be grumpy for hours on end and seemingly never cheer up, any pleasant surprise met with the raise of his eyebrows and a slow nod. “I wanna have a baby, now, I don’t wanna wait to meet some prince charming and get married and do all that shit.. I’m happy raising it by myself, I-”
“And?” he asks then, the creases around his eyes getting deeper as a look of confusion creeps up on his face, “Why exactly are you tellin’ me this and not your girlfriends?”. You take a moment to figure out how to damage control, how to reel the situation back in and not scare him off any more, while you watch the smoke rising from between his two fingers, one thick arm resting over his knee. 
“I want you to get me pregnant, Joel” you finally say, running your hand up his thigh, unable to cover the expanse of it with your fingers splayed out, and the feel of his muscle tensing under your hands makes you clench around yourself, warm wetness starting to seep out into your panties, “Please? I promise I won’t waste your time”. 
He’s frozen, looking at your innocent expression and the subtle slouch in your shoulders. It’s too fucking hard to resist you, your doe eyes and little pout, and there’s something in your tone that makes his shock die down quickly, getting replaced by a strange feeling of flattery. A feeling he’s not used to. Not to mention the disbelief he feels at the prospect of you wanting to get in bed with him.
He can surely find it in himself do this for you without getting attached, without worrying about this child day in and day out, or about you. He hopes he can, hopes that he's too old to worry now. He won’t bother you, he’ll stay out of your business unless you need something. It’s an act of kindness from him, really, and it’s about time he does something nice for someone other than Sarah, who’s been the only one on the receiving end of all his care and love for the past sixteen years. Besides, you're a nice girl, why wouldn't he want to do something for you? 
And more importantly, why on earth would he pass up the opportunity to fuck you? To have you under him, to see what’s hiding beneath those black pants stretched to their absolute limit by the thickness of your ass, to hear what you sound like when you come, to know what you taste like, to know how your lips feel on his, not just on his cheek when you thank him for putting food aside for you. 
You’re too pretty and too young for him, he knows that, he’s known that since the first time he felt that little flutter in his chest at the sound of you calling his name. Now all he can do is cook for you, leave it under tightly wrapped aluminum foil on the desk in the back office so it stays warm, knowing you’ll look for it there when you run away from your shift in search of something to eat, with a post it note on top, your name sharpied on it, waiting for you.
Just like he waits for you, waits for the moment he sees you every day and hears you say his name again. Hey Joel, the same as always, nothing special, but bubbly when everyone else seems intimidated by him.
He has a little crush on you, a massive one actually, one he hates to admit that he's had for a while now. Ever since you sat out on the stoop behind the restaurant with him for the first time and shared a cigarette you stole from Jermaine. The guy thinks he hides the pack well, but sometimes when Joel comes out to get some air and you’re the only other one who shared the idea, you fish it out from under the steps and slip one out, seldom enough to where he’s sure not to notice. 
You teased him for something that first time, and he can’t remember what. A year has gone by, but the sound of your giggle at his disapproval has rattled around in his mind every day since. You frequently tease him, wait for him to roll his eyes, then attempt to tickle him before he grabs your wrist and holds it tight until his break is over, and he pulls you up to your feet, with his other hand on your waist, letting you in the door first before he shuts it behind him.
One time, when he held your eyes for a little longer than normal, he considered asking you out, but thought better of it and closed his mouth as soon as it opened. He wonders why you're single, how it's possible for a man not to want to make you his, why-
“Fuck”, he jumps a little as he lets go of the cigarette and flicks his wrist frantically, trying to soothe the part of his fingers burnt by the ashes creeping down to his skin as he sat there speechless and not paying attention.
“Well?” you ask as if nothing happened, watching his muscles flex under his t-shirt, “What do you say?”.   
“Jesus” he whispers, a contemplative shake of his head as his eyes dart around. He should ask why you want him to do it, should suggest every other dumbass working in this place, should tell you no, that he’s too old for you and you’re too beautiful and full of life and too good for this place. But he can’t find it in himself to pass up this chance, and he knows he would fuck you right. He would be good to you. He wants to be good to you.   
“That’s all you want?” he asks dryly, then a long exhale, staring into your eyes, “You want me to fuck you?”. Ten years ago he might’ve been more subtle, but he's lived too much since then, and trying to find ways to sugarcoat what needs to be said feels like a waste of his time. The sound of his deep voice makes you shudder.
“I just need you to come inside me,” you purr, nervous as hell all of a sudden, wrapping your finger in his hair, ”And I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time, so.. You can do whatever you want to me”. He glances at your lips as you talk, shoulders shifting under his t-shirt and a swallow passing through his throat. “So you’ll do it?” you ask after a moment. 
He’s not passing up on this chance, already half hard at the mere idea of being inside you and counting how many goddamn seconds he has left on his shift. All he does is nod in response, his eyes going a little wide. “Thanks, Joel” you say then, as you stand up and brush off your pants, “I’ll send you my address, I need you over tonight, okay?”. You lean down to place a kiss on his cheek and disappear back inside. 
He stays sitting out there a few minutes longer than he’s supposed to, regretting not jerking off in the shower that morning, running his hand down his face and trying to figure out how he can make himself last longer than a minute. 
-
More than anything, it’s strange to see him like this, to see a new side of someone you’ve been around so much. It’s difficult to conceptualize the side of him that is private, intimate, personal. You've thought about him as just a man sometimes, not a coworker, and wondered what he might be like in situations like these. In bed. You wonder if you’ll see him differently after this, if it’ll be impossible to look him in the eyes at work when you’ve felt the size and shape of his cock, when you know what he sounds like when he comes, how he tastes, what he likes. 
“So, uh-” he says, as you sit on his lap with his feet planted on the floor at the edge of your bed, “What's the best way to do this?”. He corrects himself after a second, “How do you wanna do this?”. He has his hands around your waist, big and warm, and your arms are wrapped around his neck as you lightly tug at his curls.
“I didn't really think that far” you giggle, and he chuckles softly, likely picking up on your nerves.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asks then.
“Um, yeah, sure” is all you manage to say before you feel his hand around the back of your neck, holding the weight of your head as he kisses you like you've never been kissed before. The scratch of his mustache against your skin is oddly soothing, and his lips are soft, his tongue molten and slippery as it sweeps into your mouth. You exhale into him until your lungs are empty, becoming entirely pliant in his hold, one hand steadying your back as you try to keep from collapsing into his chest. 
A whimper escapes your throat, and he whispers, I got you, as he lays you down on the bed and rests his weight on his elbows, hovering over you and spreading your legs. His clothed cock pushes into you as he rolls his hips, forcing more of those little whimpers out and you can feel your pulse deep down where you buck your hips to grind on him. 
He undresses you carefully, not leaving a single item of clothing on, wanting to see your naked form. He rolls you onto your stomach and takes the opportunity to let his hands and lips and tongue explore every part of your backside, from your ankles to your ass to your shoulders, giving a little extra attention to your plush cheeks, that he pulls apart and then lands a swat to on one side, making you giggle as he soothes his hand over the mark, already starting to sting from his strength. 
You roll onto your back again and start to claw at his shirt. He reaches back to pull it off, revealing the muscular upper body you’ve wondered about for what seems like forever - years, now. A strange smile tugs at your lips as you look at him, at his arm flexing as he opens your knees to spread your legs, and he leans down to kiss you as he drags his knuckles up and down your center. 
He pushes two fingers into you and you moan, loudly, too loudly. He shushes you, kisses you again as you writhe under him and grind against his hand until he finds the right spot, the one that makes you arch your back and start begging him to fuck you. He slides his fingers out and looks down to see a thick, glossy string hanging between his two of his digits, raising an eyebrow in what you assume is awe. “Told you I needed you tonight” you purr.
He huffs a little in response, “I can tell”. 
He immediately finds your clit with the pads of his fingers, and rubs, slowly then fast, slowly then fast, as he unbuckles his belt with his other hand and shucks off his jeans, then his boxers, and lays on your side with his hard cock resting against your hip.
You start to squirm as he pushes his thick fingers inside you again, curls them a few times and slips them out, going back to massage your clit. “I know” he coos, “You want more, huh?”. All you can do is moan and nod, feeling your orgasm starting to pool at the bottom of your spine. 
“It's okay, just let me take my time with you”, he rubs you a little faster, firmer, as he watches your breathing get erratic, “Wanna fuck you right”. He wants to watch you come, has been fantasizing about it for such a long time, wants to see it and hear it and feel it. “I’m gonna give you my cock soon, okay?” he murmurs, “Don't want it to be painful for you, my girl, need you to come for me first”. And something about his words gives you the last push you need, making you come as you whimper his name over and over. 
He gets between your legs then, knocking his knee against yours to open you up, and leans over, taking his cock in his hand and nudging the leaking head into your opening. You can feel your thick, slippery wetness spill onto him, and you hear him grunt, fisting his length a few times with your slick and pushing in slowly, stretching you obscenely and filling you to the brim before he’s fully inside.
You shouldn’t be surprised at the overwhelming size of it, considering how he towers over you and is the only person you know who makes you feel tiny, but his cock rubs against every soft spot inside you and stimulates every nerve in your body, reaching a depth nobody has ever touched before.
He fucks you with deep strokes, reaching all the way to the end of you before he withdraws halfway and pushes back in, breathing hard and squeezing his hands around your hips so tightly you can feel the marks forming. You need him even deeper. “Harder, Joel, please, please“ you beg, “I’m so fucking wet and you feel so good, I- please, oh god, please”. Your voice is filled with desperation, and he wants to hear it every day for the rest of his life, the sound of you on your knees for him, wanting him and everything he can give you. 
“Relax.” he says sternly, shoving you into the mattress with a thrust and holding you there with his strong hands, trapping you under him and forcing you to stay still as his cock slides in and out smoothly.
“I can’t, just hurry up, please, fuck me faster, I need it” you nag then, whiny and annoying, snapping your fingers.
He pauses then, leans over to stare down into your eyes, “Do you want my come or not?”. 
“Ugh, yes”, you groan, letting out a few soft grunts as you try to shift around in his grasp and push down onto him harder somehow.
“Settle then”, his voice is stern again, commanding but patient, as if he has all the time in the world.
“Come on, Joel”, you stretch your back and try to escape his gaze, digging your nails into his shoulders and feeling your walls fluttering around him.
His hand wraps around your throat then, and his face is close to yours, that dark gaze unrelenting and demanding your attention. “Settle down” he says calmly, and holds you pinned right there until he feels your body relaxing, your slick dripping down his shaft and your nipples tickling his chest. 
He flips you over and pulls you up and onto your knees, arms stretched out over your head as he slides all the way into you and the pressure on your cervix makes you try to squirm away. A useless endeavor. His hands rove around your ass cheeks and you hear a quiet shit above you, followed by an equally low fuck me as he squeezes your flesh, pulls it apart, then spits onto your asshole. 
You feel him smear it into your skin with his thumb, whining at how he teases you, pushing his thumb into your tight hole slowly while he jacks himself with his other hand. You plead again, a long, drawn out please, Joel, then another oh god, please, a last more, more for good measure, and then he’s pushing the head of his cock into you, filling you with his thickness and finally inching his thumb into your ass. The intensity is overwhelming, and your eyes roll back as another orgasm nears. 
“Give me one more, baby, come on” he coos as he reaches around and rubs your clit.
You respond, barely coherent and not wanting him to stop, “I don't- I don’t think it'll determine if it takes or not.. How many times I c-come”.
He gives you a few strokes, overwhelming and hard and squelching with your arousal before he says, “I read in a fuckin’ article that it helps, or, I don’t know, something”.
You shift your eyes around a little, wanting to laugh, “You read an article saying that orgasms increase your likelihood of conceiving?”. 
“Just shut up and let me make you come, sweetheart,” he drawls, “Stop talkin’ so much”. His voice is low and husky as he rubs the back of your hip with one thumb and the other sinks deeper into your ass as you tighten around it.
“Why?” you ask, breathy and whiny, “All I need is your come, I- I’m not expecting-”.
He cuts you off quickly, whispering, “Jesus…”. 
“I’m not gonna have sex with you if you don't enjoy it, okay?” he says, “So just shut up and take my cock like a good girl, I know you can, I know you want it”. His hand snakes up to find your tit, squeezing it before rubbing your nipple with two of his fingers. 
“Besides, I know it makes you feel good, you can't hide it," he runs his palm down your back, smacks your ass firmly, then grabs it tight to stop the recoil, “You're about to soak my cock, I can tell.. Gettin’ all tense and shit”. He lifts your torso with his hand on your sternum, pulling you up and into him, shoving his face into your neck so you can listen to his growls while he fucks you.
Your orgasm hits you quite suddenly, and your head falls onto his shoulder as you pant. “How does it feel when I make you come? Huh, little bunny?”. You can’t answer, too blissed out and too fucked out to think, only mustering up a mumbled, uhhh. “Use your words now” he says, and flips you onto your back. 
He lines himself up and slams back in, folding your legs and pushing your thighs into your chest as he pounds you, “Come on, baby, tell me, how’s it feel to come all over my cock?”. You grab at the muscles of his arms, his shoulders and his chest, trying to get words out but only managing an incoherent mess of moans. So good, Joel, so good, you whimper. 
Then he wraps your legs around his waist and slips his arm under your back, and supports himself on his fist right beside your head, lifting you up to pound you harder, deeper, with more force as his thrusts gradually slow down and he breathes heavily, staring down at how your tits slide up and down your chest. “Say you want me to come inside you”, his voice is strained, and you can tell he’s holding back by the way his cock twitches. 
You take a deep breath, and coo, as softly as you can, “Want you to be my baby daddy, Joel”, and watch his face contort, his eyes closing and feel his arm tightening its grip around you. You moan a little, eyes rolling back at the intensity. “Come inside me, please,” you beg, “Wanna be full of you, want you to give me a baby, your baby”.
He groans at that, then pulls you up into his chest so closely you can feel the sweat dripping down from his hair and onto your skin, and his cock pulsating as he fills you with his come. You can tell it's a lot by how he throbs inside you incessantly, and moans, long and ragged, while he digs his face into the crook of your neck.
He lifts your hips up, staying buried inside you, and shoves a pillow under you as a mix of his come and your slick runs down between your asscheeks, onto the cover. He wraps his hand around your throat again and growls, into your ear, “You’re mine now, little thing, all mine”.
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atticrissfinch · 6 months
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You're a Mansion with a View (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+) | oneshot
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pairing: daddydom!joel miller x fem!reader summary: After a rough day, Joel gives you exactly what you need. warnings/tags:  [18+ MINORS DNI] established relationship, light ddlg dynamic, dom/sub, daddy!kink, softdom!joel (who even am I), oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, referring to reader’s pussy as her “kitten” ig if that squicks you, this is like really soft and fluffy d/s idk what happened word count: ~2.2K | ao3 a/n: coming out of a little writing rut and wanted to try and get something out! Shout out to @javier-penas-wifexx420 for a request they sent to my inbox featuring a completely submissive reader in a ddlg dynamic (i'm hoarding the real ask in case i want to write something a little more ~spicy for it since this is so light 😌). But I hope y'all enjoy a little softer dom!joel 😊 Masterlist | Kofi
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You’re already on your knees in the foyer, stark naked, by the time Joel’s key is rattling in the door. 
You don’t always do this. You like to surprise him every now and then, and he likes the surprise. 
When he successfully unlocks the door and opens it to see you, supplicant and willing on the floor for him, and you see the anxiety and stress melt off his face into an expression of warmth and affection—that’s what you do this for. That alone makes it worth it. 
And he doesn’t disappoint; he never does. He stares at you with that awe and wonder, like it’s the first time. He kicks off his boots and presses the door shut. 
And then he’s in front of you, tilting your chin up with reverent tenderness. “Hi, babygirl.”
A smile breaks across your face and your eyes flutter closed as he strokes your cheek. “Hi, daddy.”
“You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you, baby?”
“I try, daddy.”
“Well, you succeed.” 
Your heart surges at the praise, and you feel a prickling start in your eyes. 
His thumb fusses with your bottom lip, smoothing across it and pulling it down just to let it pop back. “Why this today, baby? You need me?”
You ease your eyes open and nod up at him and his creased brow. “Yes, please.”
You can go over the details later. About how shitty your day was, how out of control your own life is feeling around you. You just want to focus on this. What you can control. Or, more suitably, what Joel can take off your plate for you. The way you trust him implicitly, give yourself over to him so he can care for you in a way no one else ever has, ever could. 
He nods his head back in understanding, the backs of his fingers tracing up the side of your face until he’s petting down your hair with a steady hand. “It’s okay, babygirl. Daddy’s here for you. I’m gonna make it all better, alright?”
You rapidly blink out the tears forming in your eyes as you nod again, leaning into his touch. “Thank you, daddy.”
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” He guides, helping you to your feet and pulling you in close to him with a solid, sturdy hug. “It’ll be okay,” He reassures again into your hair. 
“I know.”
Once you’re in the bedroom, he prompts you to your knees again, this time on the much more forgiving carpet with a pillow underneath them. 
“Are you gonna make daddy feel good?” He asks, sliding his belt from his jeans and unfastening them. 
“Yes, daddy,” You reply, second nature this far into your relationship. Almost everything is yes daddy or no daddy when you’re like this. No pressure from him to articulate cohesive, flowery responses. Just affirmatives and negatives. Easy. 
He allows you to turn off your brain and just be. Just do as he says with one unified goal: make him feel good. 
You couldn’t care less about yourself, your own pleasure—although Joel does. He never leaves you out to dry. But you never ask for it. He just knows, he’s always known. Like his sixth sense is knowing what you require that you never verbalize, or maybe that you don’t even know yourself. 
He’s hard and thick as he strokes himself tantalizingly in front of you. “Come get your treat,” He encourages, his voice already going deep and raspy with his own arousal, “Get your reward for being daddy’s good girl.”
He never has to tell you twice. He says it, you do it. You know some submissives like to argue, like the back and forth of the power struggle. That’s never been you. You derive the most pleasure from the thought of his unwavering hand above you, driving you to do exactly as he desires. You think you won the jackpot with Joel, with a man who never takes advantage of your submission and always shows appreciation and humility at your choice to submit to him. 
He does get rough, and he does like to use you, but never in a manner that is unwelcome. You’re two sides of the same coin. He’s the head. The brains for both of you. And you? Well, you’re the tail. And you both like it that way. 
You take him in your mouth with an eagerness that has him laughing breathlessly above you. “Oh, you needed this, huh, princess? That’s all you need, isn’t it? Just daddy’s cock.”
You moan around him as you sink further down on him, working the base with your hand. You love how he fills you, love the gentle, yet unyielding hand at the back of your head as you move on him. He coaxes you deeper until he’s tickling the back of your throat, far enough that you have to remove your hand for him to feed you more of him. 
“That’s it, pretty girl,” He moans as your throat relaxes around him in well-practiced precision. “Always take me so fuckin’ good. Little throat was made for daddy’s cock, wasn’t it?”
You choke briefly on it as your lungs claw for air, but you force them into their own kind of submission in your efforts to please Joel. You can feel your throat pulsing around him in desperation until you at last detach yourself, your saliva clinging in slippery strings to his shaft and your breath rushing back in harried and refreshing. 
“Good fucking girl, baby. Now back in. You know.”
And you do. You’re already halfway down his cock again when he says it. His hand tugs at the hair shy of your scalp as he feels your throat wrapping around him again, gripping him like you never want him to leave. Never want to allow you to come back up for air. 
His hips buck into you, smashing your nose into his hip bone as he claims you like he has hundreds of times before. You know precisely when he’s getting close, because his thighs beneath your hands begin to shake. 
He yanks you off to save himself from shooting down your throat, his fingers forming a vice at the base of his cock and behind his balls to stem his release. “Fuck, babygirl. Throat is so goddamn tight. So fuckin’ wet. Every fuckin’ time. Never get used to it.”
You beam with pride, shining and messy with your own spit and tears, pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to his hip as you gaze up at him like he hung the moon just for you. 
You’re scrambling onto the bed as soon as he directs you, your pussy drenched and begging for him between your legs. His broad shoulders spread your thighs, hooking them over his shoulders as his face greets your glistening heat. 
“All this for me, babygirl?” He teases, running a knuckle over your throbbing clit and through your slick folds. And as much as you want to watch him work, the flood of pleasure you derive from that single motion has your head flopping back against the pillows. 
“Yes, daddy,” You whimper as you feel his tongue slipping between your lips, “All for you. Always.”
“That’s my girl,” He mumbles before closing his lips around your clit and preemptively strapping an arm across your waist, already anticipating the way your hips always strain to get closer. 
“Fuck,” You whine breathily, your hips twitching into his mouth as his tongue flicks at your bundle of nerves, already spiraling you close to the edge. And as he reads your body, he tapers off, diving his tongue back down into your folds in broad strokes. You shiver as your climax evades you, but you don’t complain. Joel knows what he’s doing; he always does. 
The tip of his tongue penetrates your hole, and a heavy sigh breaks free from your chest. He fucks you leisurely, and even through your tightly shut eyes you can feel his own burning holes through you as he winds you up. 
His thumb rubs tight circles over your clit as he fucks you open around his tongue, and you’re teetering on the edge again. You feel your core tightening, and he’s not letting up. Even though you know what his answer will be, you know to ask anyway. 
“Fuck, daddy, can I…can I please…please come?”
His breath is hot on your cunt as he green lights with a “Yes, babygirl,” and plunges his tongue back inside you, his thumb on your clit shoving you headfirst into your orgasm. You feel your pussy pulse around his tongue as you throb under the ministrations of his hand, your fingers diving into his hair for purchase on something to ground you. 
Your hips thrust into him in aftershocks, hindered by the arm still thrown around your waist. “Daddy, please,” You whine as the sensitivity takes hold and Joel’s mouth sucks kisses up and down your cunt. You can feel his smile in his actions, finally relenting when he deems you’ve had enough. 
“Just such a tasty little kitten you’ve got, babygirl. You know I can’t help myself,” He says, his chin perched on your hip with a smug grin. “You need daddy to fuck this little kitten too?”
“Yes, please, daddy,” You whimper, tugging lightly on his hair. 
Joel only leaves the bed long enough to strip himself down before rejoining you, guiding you onto your side and molding himself into you from behind. His hand parts your thigh upwards and he positions it into the crook of his arm, spreading you open for him. 
His mouth sucks kisses into your neck as his hips grind against your ass, the slick head of his cock gliding between your bodies. His nose outlines your jaw up to the shell of your ear. “Put daddy inside it, babygirl.”
A pitiful whine escapes at his words. Your hand slithers between your legs, reaching back to grip his cock behind you. You free him from between you and notch him at your opening. Joel grunts in your ear as the tip breaches your hole, rocking his hips forward teasingly. 
You sigh at the stretch—and it’s always a stretch, as big as he is—and give yourself over to him. 
As if you were ever your own since you’d met him. 
“That’s so good, baby. So tight around daddy.” He pushes himself all the way in with one continuous thrust, burying himself into you with a devastating intensity. The gasp that leaves you has Joel exhaling a light, groaning laugh. “Does daddy feel good, babygirl? Does he fill up your kitten nice and full?”
“Yes, daddy,” You moan, your hips already seeking him out, trying to suck him in deeper. “Need you, please.”
“I know, baby. Daddy needs you, too,” He moans as he begins to fuck into you with hunger and heft. “Need to be so. Fucking. Deep inside you, babygirl,” He grunts, punctuating his words with his hips. 
Your head tips back to rest on his shoulder in a silent cry as he spreads you open wider, snapping his hips into you as he pants into your ear. 
“Kitten takes me so fuckin’ good. Gives daddy exactly what he wants, huh? Opens right up for me.”
“Yes, daddy,” You keen, your hand flying to grip his hair and pull his face into your neck. 
“Oh, fuck, daddy’s gonna come right inside your kitten, babygirl. Gonna flood that little pussy with my load, fill you so full.”
“Fuck, yes, daddy,” You whine, desperately grinding your hips back onto him, meeting his thrusts. “Please come inside me,” You beg, your breath hitching as his teeth scrape at your skin. 
“God, you beg so pretty for daddy. Get ready for it, baby. Gonna—oh fuck,” He chokes out as his hips slam into you again and again, groaning out his release and flooding you just as he promised. Just as you crave constantly. 
Even after his climax has long receded, he keeps you plugged, full of his cock and his come. Giving you time to soak him in, feel him inside you physically the way he is emotionally at every other second of the day. Your leg slips from its temporary home in the crook of his elbow and hooks around his leg behind you, urging him forward as if he could get any closer to you than he already has been. His arms clutch you to him around your waist, your feet tangled together, your heads craned to satisfy the lazy drag of your lips against each other’s. And you just exist for a few blissful moments, unable to extract one of you from the other. 
“Daddy loves you so fuckin’ much, you know that, baby?”
Every ounce of tension, every trace of stress, evaporated in the presence of those words. 
“I know, daddy. I love you too.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Not right now.” Not in this perfect moment with him. Not with him inextricably attached at every square inch of your body. Maybe later. Much, much later. When he’s fucked another load inside you. When the sweat has dried on the sheets from whatever number of orgasms he sees fit to pry from your overstimulated pussy and vibrating thighs. 
And he kisses you again because he doesn’t need you to say any of that. He just knows. 
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pimosworld · 16 days
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Pairing -Joel Miller x F!reader
Summary-Joel wants to be the first
CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, oral (f) receiving, established relationship, no outbreak Joel late 40’s, reader is unspecified legal age, reader is not described, inexperienced but not a virgin, soft dom joel, shy reader, joel is obsessed with you, pet names galore, joel is the king of patience and eating pussy
WC-1.4k
A/N- The Joel brain rot has taken over. This was inspired by one of my fav spicy songs I’ll tag the link at the end.
[Joel Masterlist][Main Masterlist]
Not beta read
Kisses down low
His initial reaction when you’d told him was very much a Joel reaction. It startled you at first how angry he seemed, not at you of course. 
  “Whadya’ mean no one’s ever done that before?” 
  You just shrugged it off a little ashamed for whatever reason. He noticed your obvious discomfort and you shrinking in on yourself and he certainly couldn’t have that. He calmed down a bit  and asked you to explain. Your first real boyfriend didn’t think it was worth his time and another partner made you feel self conscious about it so you just stopped asking. 
  Joel had to take a few deep breaths through his nose and cursed the idiots who passed up the opportunity to appreciate you the way he knew you deserved. You never passed up the chance to show him how much you loved and cared for him. It was hard in the beginning for him to understand someone could love him so unconditionally, even with all his flaws and shortcomings. In the short time you’d known each other you brought out this side of him he thought had been long dormant. He had more patience, a lust for life that he thought was lost when Sarah moved away for college. 
  He’d reassured you that he was willing to wait as long as you needed him to until you felt ready. 
  You could tell he was doing his very best to be patient. Every time you were intimate with each other he’d give you his best puppy dog eyes as he rested his head on your stomach, waiting and hoping maybe this time would be a yes. Even through the no’s he could tell you we’re entertaining the idea. Letting it roll around in your head that Joel would never make you feel ashamed or embarrassed. 
  “I promise I’ll make ya feel good sugar.” He rasps against your ear as he lays all his weight on top of you. He stopped trying to fight you when you’d told him how it grounded you after sex to have his broad body pressing you into the mattress. 
  “I know it’s just…I can’t get out of my head.” You gasp as he rolls you over on top of him. 
  “That’s exactly what I’m tryin’ to do…get you out of that pretty little head of yours and let me take care of you.” His voice is desperate as his hands rub up and down your back. It wasn’t often you got Joel in the position to beg so you decided next time you would trust him to do what he said. 
  ****
  “Just relax baby girl.” His deep husky voice is muffled as he lays kisses to your thighs. He’s been slowly undressing you, making sure you were thoroughly distracted. 
  Your breath stutters a little as his strong hands knead at your breast. His fingers tease your nipple and the whine that leaves your mouth already has him desperate to have you making more of those sounds. 
  “Joel…what’s it feel like?” You ask, feeling a little nervous again. 
  He rests his head on your thigh while he continues rubbing soothing circles along your side and your arms. In all his years he’s never practiced this much restraint with anyone. He’s never wanted anything so bad in his life and he’ll be damned if you aren’t one hundred percent comfortable with what he’s about to do to you. 
  “Why don’t ya think about it like a kiss.” You nod your understanding as he hooks his finger with one hand and taps your hips to have you lift them. He slowly pulls your panties down your legs and grinds his hips into the mattress at the sight of you. 
  Joel’s got you so worked up you can feel the slick dripping out of you onto the mattress below. You’ve never felt so protected and yet so vulnerable. So exposed and also powerful at the same time. 
  “Jesus…you’re prettier than a peach.” 
  You chuckle a little at his words and the fact that you don’t think he meant to say it out loud. 
  His broad shoulders settle between your thighs as his thumbs spread you open. You can feel his warm breath fan across your lips and just that sensation has your head dropping back against the pillow. He doesn’t mean to laugh but he had no idea how sensitive you’d be…he’s barely touched you and you’re shaking like a leaf. 
  Joel’s rock hard in his jeans, not having bothered to strip down. When you said you were ready he only had one thing on his mind and it damn sure wasn’t gettin’ comfortable. All he’s been able to think about the last few weeks is how he’ll be the first one to claim you, to taste you and make you come apart on his tongue. In his mind he already owns you and your willingness to submit to him has him daydreaming more than he’d care to admit. 
  “You ready sweetheart?” His voice is almost unrecognizable as he stares at his prize already soaking wet for him. 
  You nod feverishly as his mouth descends on you. You suck in a breath as his tongue wastes no time working you open. His strong hands grip your thighs as he licks and sucks at your clit. You’re so keyed up it feels like you’re embarrassingly close to your first orgasm as you clamp your hand over your mouth to quiet your moans. 
  One of his hands reaches up to you as he clasps his fingers in yours. “Nuh uh baby girl, I’ve been waitin’ ages for this. I want to hear all those little noises you make.”
  He dives back in, his big nose rubs at your clit while his tongue dips into your hole. A high pitched whine leaves your mouth as you instinctively reach down with your other hand to tug at his curls. He’s growling into your pussy, so drunk off you and the way you taste. “Fuck Joel…please.” You whimper into the air as you buck your hips, seconds from cresting over. 
  Joel’s never been so turned on by the sounds you’re making. He can tell you’re close and the swell of pride in his chest that you’ve fully let go for him is something he can’t describe. He almost feels bad for what he’s about to put you through because there’s no way he’s going back to the way things were before. Your poor little pussy is gonna be so abused by the time he’s had his fill of you. 
  “Come on baby.” His eyes meet yours as you fight to keep your head up. He knows you can do it, he can feel the way your thighs clench around his head. He wants to see if you can without his fingers, wants to watch you fall apart on his tongue as he wrings every last drop of rational thought from your brain. 
  His tongue circles your clit in swift motions as you let out an inaudible whine. Your head drops back between your shoulders as your heels dig into his back. You can barely get out his full name as your climax rocks into you, your vision is sparkly behind your eyes as you hear him whispering sweet words far off in the distance. 
  It takes you both a moment to catch your breath as he places kisses along your thighs just resting his head there. Not even wanting to bother with the damp spot on the mattress where he came with you. He doesn’t even care or feel embarrassed when he can’t remember the last time he felt this good. 
  “Joel…” Your voice is a little hoarse as you clear your throat. 
  “Ya sugar.” 
  “Can we…do that again?” 
  He huffs out a laugh in a small moment of triumph. “Anytime you want.” 
Comments and reblogs are much appreciated
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shellshocklove · 7 months
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i wanna be your lover | joel miller
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pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader
summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?
warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, swearing, misogyny (bc of the times™), accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes (it’s the 70s alright), mentions of a bad previous sexual encounter and losing your virginity, use of pet names, porn (obviously lmao), sextoys, only one bed, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n
a/n: i had fun with this one, but it turned out to be longer than i first intended. i hope people will like it still! also big thank you to @dustydaddyyy​, for proofreading this
main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3
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Under a pink and orange Los Angeles sky, your platforms clicked against the sidewalk. Day left an hour ago, dipping behind the green hills of Laurel Canyon. Walking down The Strip, arms linked with your friend Deborah, the street bustled in the awakening night. Music spilled from clubs and bars, seducing the dressed-up crowd passing by this Friday night.
“Do a little dance, make a little love,”
“This,” Deborah emphasized, coming to a stop outside a club, “is exactly what you need tonight to get your mind off everything.”
She clutched your arm tighter to her body, almost like she was afraid you’d run off, and maybe she had good reason to think you would. You weren’t exactly in the right mood to party. Only a few hours ago, you’d gotten fired from your job. Three years as Mr. Cooper’s personal assistant down the drain.
Mr. Cooper was the creative director, and one of the partners at the advertisement agency where you’d worked. He was an important man, and he’d dealt with all kinds of clients on a daily basis. For you, it had been a learning curve of a job. You had no prior experience as a personal assistant, and it had been intimidating.
You’d only just moved to the City of Angels when you’d gotten the job. With next to no money, having left behind your family and your small town, you were desperate for a job. When you’d seen the ad in the newspaper, left behind on the table of a café near your apartment, you’d stepped out on the sidewalk immediately to find a payphone. During the interview Mr. Cooper had looked you up and down and scowled as he’d read your resume. You’d shrank in your seat under his gaze, but even with your lacking resume, Mr. Cooper had hired you on the spot.
Later, during your first full week at your new job, you’d come to discover why Mr. Cooper had hired you so quickly ­– he’d been desperate for a new assistant. Overhearing some of the other ladies whispering to each other during lunch, you’d been able to piece together exactly why. Apparently, Mr. Cooper and his former personal assistant had been having an affair. He’d gotten her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the baby – he was a married man after all. This was where the story had gotten hazy, and the grape vine sang different songs. One version of the story said he’d forced her to get an abortion and riddled with grief over the dead baby and their failing relationship, she’d quit her job and moved back to her parents in Maine. While the other version of the story said that, rightfully angry at Mr. Cooper for not taking any responsibility over their situation, she’d gone to visit his wife at home to tell her about what’s been going on. Which story was the truth, you don’t know. What you did know, was that Mr. Cooper was still married, and his previous assistant was no longer working for him.
Even if the job had been intimidating at first, you’d quickly gotten used to it. You stayed on top of everything: Mr. Copper’s clients, his calls, his schedule. Ordered flowers for his wife, and even sent boxes of chocolates to his various paramours. You’d made sure the bar in his office was always stacked with his favorite bourbon, and most importantly: you’d made sure to be seen and not heard. It’s what he told you, in the job interview, that he wanted.
You had thought you were doing a good job, but clearly, Mr. Cooper had been laboring under a different impression…
Your day had started like every other day – normal. You’d arrived at work fifteen minutes before Mr. Cooper, like always. Dutifully greeting him with a sweet “Good morning, sir!” at your desk, and served him his morning coffee minutes later. The day continued like normal, occupied with calls and speaking to clients, you had no idea what shocking message you’d receive at the end of your day.
Outside the club, you gave Deborah a meek smile which faded when you saw the line snaking its way down the street, “Sure, but… we’ll never get in.”
“Get down tonight, get down tonight,”
The words of KC And The Sunshine Band traveled through the open club door, the music filled the warm summer air.
“Don’t worry, babes!” she beamed, “I know the owner.” With an overdramatic wink and a giggle, she pulled you towards the bouncer.
“Baby, baby, I'll meet you, same place, same time,”
“How exactly do you know the owner of this place?” you queried, as you passed through the door of the club while the music got louder and louder.
“Where we can get together, and ease up our mind,”
“Let’s just say we had a weekend together…,” she giggled, “and I got to know him very… intimately.”
Your eyes widened at her implications, and Deborah giggled even louder.
“Don’t look so surprised!” she laughed, “I’m all about free love,” she joked, putting up a peace sign.
A heat burned your cheeks. Still, after three years in LA you needed to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t in your small rural hometown anymore. No one was going to arrest you for talking about sex. Nevertheless, the habit was hard to shake, and the roots of the rules you’d grown up with – the ones that had taught you to be the perfect student and the perfect daughter – stayed embedded in your mind.
“So…” Deborah started, her back against the bar while she took her first sip of her Apple Martini. She’d ordered you some fruity cocktail you’d never had before that she swore you’d like. “What exactly did that sad excuse of a man say to you when he fired you?”
With a scrunch of your nose, you turned your attention to your drink, taking a sip. It tasted sugary, but fresh, one of those dangerous drinks where you couldn’t taste the alcohol.
“Let’s not talk about it?” you sighed, shooting Deborah another meek smile.
She returned your smile, but it was full of pity. “You’re right! Let’s not– Let’s forget that fucker,” she said, taking a generous sip of her drink, “you’ll easily get a new job! I know it!” she smiled.
Not soon after Deborah had finished her first drink, a man interrupted your conversation. The man was tall, with black wild hair, pork chops and a matching mustache. He was wearing a flower-patterned shirt tucked into a pair of brown bell-bottoms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing dark chest hair and a gold chain. He wasn’t bad looking.
His hand on Deborah’s back didn’t seem to bother her, quite the opposite, she jumped excitedly, throwing her hands around his neck in greeting. You couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear over the music, but it made her laugh.
“This is Tommy! He owns the club,” Deborah introduced you.
With a friendly smile, you shook Tommy’s hand and introduced yourself. His grip was firm, not like those people that made shaking their hand feel like gripping a dead fish. You decided that it was a good sign.
“So– are ya enjoyin’ yourselves, ladies?” he asked with a charming smile.
“Oh, yes!” Deborah smiled, her painted nails landing on his bicep, “But I think we’d enjoy ourselves even more after another drink.”
With a knowing smile and an easy laugh, Tommy ushered the bartender closer. “’nother round for these two beautiful ladies,” he ordered, “and… they’re drinkin’ on the house for the rest of the night,” he added, sending Deborah a wink.
The bartender served you your second drink just as Tommy convinced Deborah to dance with him. Quickly, she downed her Apple Martini before she turned to you, guilt written all over her face.
“You okay by yourself for a little bit?”
“Yeah– sure!” you nodded, “Go have fun!”
With a sorry smile and a promise to be right back, Deborah left you at the bar, dragged out on the dancefloor by Tommy.
Left to your own devices, you still felt a little awkward. This was supposed to be a girls night. Pushing off the bar, you turned to lean your back against it. You bopped your head to the music, trying to not look so out of place. In your hands, your drink was slippery from the condensation around the glass. Out on the dancefloor, the crowd looked like it moved in slow motion through the blinking lights, bodies twisting their hips and grooving to the beat. You took another sip.
It’s a strange feeling, feeling so alone, while surrounded by a crowd of people. To your, a couple gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they passed a cigarette back and forth, a ribbon of smoky white, clouded them in a love fog. They leaned closer, sharing a kiss. You quickly averted your eyes, desperate for something else to rest your eyes on.
Instead, they fell on a man.
You locked eyes with him from across the room. Clad in tight denim he sat casually in a booth in the corner, legs spread slightly. His hand was wrapped around a whisky glass, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. With a shy smile, you quickly looked away again, eyes back to watching the bodies on the dancefloor. You took another sip of your drink, trying to act casual.
He wasn’t watching you, was he? Why would he? No one usually looked at you twice.
You were no good at this. Flirting. You were painfully awful at it to be completely honest. Too shy to be sexy, and never interesting enough, or pretty enough for a second date.
Your experience with dating didn’t really go further than the few dates you’d gone on with John, from accounting. He’d acted so sweet: opened doors for you, held out your chair, kissed you at your doorstep at the end of the night. He had been a dream. Then on your third date, he’d invited you back to his place for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and soon you were laying under him as he thrusted inside you. It was your first time – and he hadn’t known. It had hurt so much; you’d turned your face away so he wouldn’t see your tears. After, he’d called you a cab, not bothering to even kiss you goodbye. In the office the next day, he’d pretended like you’d never even existed: no more tender kisses, no more door opening, no more smiles. Your dream had turned into a nightmare.
He’d pulled you aside during lunch and told you it wouldn’t work out between the two of you. You were just such different people. You’d deflated like a balloon at his words, sinking into your chair as you watched him walk down the corridor back to his cubicle. To make matters worse you’d overheard him say, to some of his colleges by the watercooler, how awful in bed you’d been. It had been humiliating. And now, every time you as much as attempted to flirt with someone, a bell of shame rang in your ears.
The man couldn’t have looked at you. He’d for sure only looked in the direction of the bar. But something burned your cheek, and you couldn’t fight your eyes from trailing back in his direction.
Dark hair and a tidy mustache. Lips pulled up into a cheeky smile as you locked eyes with him again. He took a drag of his cigarette, and the fire lit up his handsome face. You felt something pool in your stomach. His gaze still on you as he exhaled, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. Again, your cheeks burned, and you had to look away. Suddenly, your own platform shoes looked extremely interesting.
“I remember when rock was young, me and Susie had so much fun,”
The sound of Elton John was the perfect distraction from the alluring stranger. You were sure that if you looked back at him again, you’d only embarrass yourself. You always did. Slurping up the rest of your drink, you pushed off the bar, and headed towards the dancefloor.
“Holding hands and skimming stones. Had an old gold Chevy, and a place of my own,”
Moving your hips to the beat you vanished in the bodies. And soon you were “hopping and bopping” to the Crocodile Rock, singing loudly along with the crowd to “Laa, la-la-la-la-laa”.
The air was clammy and stuffy, and sweat clung to your skin, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You were here to leave your shitty day behind. To dance it away. You moved through the crowd; a smile bright on your face while your feet couldn’t stay still. The handsome stranger in the booth, already forgotten.
As the song faded out, a new song faded in. It was slower. A slightly erotic, but melodic guitar filled the room, accompanied by a luring salsa rhythm. You slowed down your dancing. It felt like you were threading through water.
“Ain't got nobody that I can depend on. Ain't got nobody that I can depend on,”
A pair of hands landed on your hips, making you jump. Behind you, you heard the deep chuckle of a man.
“Relax, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, moving your hips in time with his.
You leaned back against his body; head tipped back against his broad chest to get a look at the man. Your stranger from the booth. He wore a cocky smirk, but he didn’t come across as full of himself. He was confident. Confident in the way he held your body – big hands splayed over your hips. Confident in the way he danced, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he did.
“Ain't got no one (no tengo a nadie). That I know of (no tengo a nadie). That I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”
You let him move your body, turning you around to take your hand in his, pulling you closer to his chest. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. He’d been watching you, you realized, not the bar. Interested enough in you to follow you out on the dancefloor. It intimidated you, but under the intimidation it also excited you.
He led your movements. You were no dancer, but he made it so easy, spinning you around with ease before pulling you back towards his body. The eye contact was intense, like he was searching for your soul. Santana’s wailing guitar and the stranger’s hand at your waist was the only thing grounding you to the moment.
“I ain't got nobody, that I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”
The song reached its climactic end. The man spun you one last time before he pulled you tight against his chest. It was like the song’s ending had broken a spell over the two of you, the air of sensuality was gone, and replaced by his genuine smile and breathy laugh.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked you over the funky bassline of Eagles’ One of These Nights.
Wide-eyed, “Please,” was the only thing you could utter.
With a hand resting at the small of your back he led you through the crowd towards the bar, where he got the bartender’s attention immediately. 
“An Old Fashioned for me Doug, and…” he looked towards you with a smile.
“Um… a Tequila Sunrise?” you said with a shy smile.
“A Tequila Sunrise, for this beautiful lady,” he told the bartender.
Grabbing one of the bar stools he sat down and gestured for you to do the same. You’d just about sat down before he leaned forward, grabbed a hold of your stool, and pulled you closer to him. A squeal escaped you before it turned into a giddy laugh.
“Thank you, Doug!” he told the bartender when he returned with your drinks.
“On a first name basis with the bartender– you here often?” you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.
“Not as often as I’d liked– it’s my lil’ brother’s club,” he told you, taking a sip of his own drink.
“You’re Tommy’s brother?” you wondered with a frown, a little shocked.
“You know Tommy?” he asked, equally shocked.
You shrugged, “Yes– well… not really.”
He took another sip of his drink, eyes urging you to go on.
“I met him earlier– he’s… well,” you didn’t know how to explain it, “I’m here with my friend Deborah, and I guess her and Tommy are…” you trailed off.
“Fuckin’?” he finished for you, grin wide on his face.
You only nodded, swallowing down another sip of your drink.
“Yeah, I’ve heard all about Deborah…” he trailed off with a look on his face like he knew a secret, “… but nothing about her beautiful friend.”
You huffed out a laugh and turned your head, heat traveling up your neck to your cheeks, “I’m not sure there’s much to know.”
“How about your name?” he suggested.
You turned back to look at him, really look at him.
Had Deborah set him up for this?
You wouldn’t put it past her if she had. She was always urging you to go out with her. To clubs, to parties in The Hills, on double dates. You wanted to go, you really did, but a voice in the back of your head always held you back. You’d thought moving to LA would be the remedy. All alone in a big city would surely help you come out of your shell, right? The harsh reality had been that LA hadn’t magically fixed you. You’d thought you’d be a completely different person here, but you’d packed your insecurities in your baggage. The only person who was gonna help you out of your shell, you’d started to realize… was you.
Putting on a brave face, disguised as a friendly smile, you gave him your name. The man was silent for a moment, nodding as he brought his lips to the rim of his glass again, taking another sip of his drink. It made you hold your breath.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said eventually with an easy grin. His compliment sent a warmth to your cheeks, while you fought an urge to squinch your face with embarrassment.
After a second of silence, you raised a brave eyebrow at him, “What about your name? Or shall I just call you Tommy’s brother?”
He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting, before he cleared his throat, “Name’s Joel.”
“Joel,” you repeated with a nod, making his cocky smile wider. Tasting his name on your tongue, you decided it sounded pleasant on your lips.
“So– you’re Deb’s friend?” Joel started, to which you confirmed with a nod. “How come she’s never brought you ‘round before?” he wondered with a sip of his drink.
You gave him a relaxed shrug, “I’m not much of a drinker– if I’m honest.”
He leaned forward, like he was about to whisper a secret to you, “You are aware of the fact that you’re in a club, aren’t you?” he teased.
Your mouth dropped open before you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Shut up,” you said, “I’m not usually much of a drinker… at least not without good reason.”
“So, what’s the good reason?” Joel asked, raising a single eyebrow, “Boyfriend dumped ya?”
“Boss dumped me, actually…” you corrected, “I got fired.”
Joel sucked some air between his teeth, “Ouch… you better get another drink, then.” He turned his body towards the bar to casually raise a hand, getting the attention of Doug.
You let out a scoffing laugh, shaking your head at his teasing tone, “Maybe I will.”
As you finish your Tequila Sunrise, Joel ordered you another one, and one for himself. You felt hot to the touch. The alcohol coursed through your body like liquid courage, it traveled through your bloodstream, greasing the part of yourself where your confidence laid dormant.
“What did you work as?” he asked, sipping his own Tequila Sunrise.
“I am–was…” you corrected, “a personal assistant.”
“A good one?” Joel wondered.
Taking a large sip of your drink, you tried to swallow down your failure.
“You’d have to ask my boss,” you breathed out.
“The one that fired ya?” he returned with a cocky smile, and you fought an urge to roll your eyes.
Sitting up a little straighter you narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you do, then? If you’re so good at your job?”
“Never said I was good at it,” he shrugged, cocky grin not going anywhere.
“You gonna make me ask you again?” you deadpanned, your shyness shedding with every sip of your drink.
Joel looked amused, like he was in on a secret only he knew. You continued to stare at him, raising a challenging eyebrow at his continued silence.
“I’m an actor,” he confessed.
You couldn’t hide the impressed look that crossed your face. Sure, you’d been in LA for three years, he wasn’t the first actor you’d met, and he for sure wouldn’t be the last, but it was something about the way he said it.
“A good one?” you used his own words against him, making him chuckle.
He took another sip of his drink, “I’d like to think so,” he smiled, looking at you over the rim of his glass.
“Anything I’d know?” you wondered, watching him put his glass down.
The corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like an ironic smirk, “God, I kinda of hope not,” he said, eyes trailing the scratches and dents in the dark wood of the bar.
You both went quiet, as you sipped your drinks. You’d started to wonder if you’d maybe said something wrong, when Joel cleared his throat.
“Not to mix business with pleasure–” he started, turning towards you, mouth twitching again at the innuendo, “but I happen to be looking for an assistant.”
“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, convinced he was pulling your leg.
“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out a chuckle.
“Let’s see: a strange man dances with me in a club,” you held up a finger, “then buys me a drink, then offers me a job? I may not be from around here, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that one.” You laughed with a shake of your head.
As you laughed, it hit you how easily you found it to jest with Joel. Usually, you were the quiet one. The one observing or just listening, always too shy to joke freely, especially with people you didn’t know, but somehow, in this moment you felt free. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting fired. Or maybe… it was Joel.
“Well, believe it or not, I ain’t fibbin’… it really depends on how much you need a job,” he took another sip of his drink.
“I just got fired,” you said matter of factly.
Joel gave you an infuriatingly innocent shrug, “Then you better start believing me when I say I’m looking for an assistant.”
You couldn’t do anything other than scoff in disbelief. “So what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re just gonna offer me a job after knowing me for barely an hour? No interview or nothing?”
“Do I need to be interviewin’ ya?” he wondered innocently.
“It’s a job!” you spluttered, “You always interview people before you give them a job!”
He gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess I will… so what can you tell me about yourself? What makes you a good assistant?” he asked, tone genuine as he placed an elbow on the bar counter and rested his head in his hand.
“I don’t mean now!” you let out in a nervous squeak, and Joel seemed to enjoy the way you shifted nervously in your seat.
He shrugged, “Alright then… you got time for coffee? Say… tomorrow mornin’?”
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Ten to ten the next morning you met Joel for coffee.
Wanting to give him a good and professional impression – he could be your new employer after all ­­– you’d worn your brown three pieced suit with a purple paisley shirt under your suit vest. It made you feel strong– well usually, right now you couldn’t seem to shake the pre-interview nerves… Anyway, you were hoping your outfit would make Joel think you had your shit together – at least put together enough for him to hire you.
With eyes scanning the café, you found him at a table by the window, smoking a cigarette. When you approached him, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, he checked his watch.
“Ten minutes early!” he remarked with a grin.
“Reliability and punctuality are good qualities in a new employee, I’ve heard.” You shot him a shy smile before you placed your bag on the floor by your chair.
He hummed, watching you with an easy smile as you sat down opposite him while shedding your jacket. The white smoke danced in front of his face like coiling ribbons. Clad in a striped polo with a Johnny collar he’d tucked into a pair of Levi’s jeans, he relaxed in his chair, shifting slightly, and spreading his legs wider. The movement, like a reflex, drew your eyes to his lower half. His Levi’s were tight, held in place by a big western belt buckle, but it wasn’t his belt buckle that caught your attention.
“So…” he started. His voice startled you, and you flicked your eyes back to his face. His playful smile told you he’s caught you checking him out. Embarrassed, you looked past him, not daring to make eye contact as you fought the urge to cringe.
“How are ya?” he took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.
“I’m–I’m good thank you,” you gave him a nervous smile, the confidence from last night gone with the rise of the sun, “how are you?”
“I’m good too, sweetheart,” he nodded, “wanna have this interview…? Or should I just tell you now you’re hired?”
Perplexed, your eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”
“Honey, I already decided last night I’d hire you,” he grinned with another drag of his cigarette.
“I–… I mean are you sure?” you stuttered, “I brought my resume and references and everything– don’t you want to take a look at them?” you wondered, a hand dropping to your bag to fish out your newly typed resume and references. You tapped the papers against the table before placing them neatly in front of him.
Retracting your hands, you rested them in your lap, while you watched him. He placed his cigarette in his mouth before he picked up your resume. His eyes scanned the paper, his head nodding slightly.
“Graduated high school in 1970… A year as a cashier at Piggly Wiggly…” he started listing, his cigarette dipping with each word, “A year at Greasy Motors?”.
“Um– yes!” you peeped, “It’s my uncle’s garage shop– I worked as their secretary,” you told him, picking at the skin around your nails.
“You any good with cars?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he took one last drag of his cigarette.
“No–No not really… I just spoke to the customers, answered the phone and stuff like that.”
You’d wanted to learn some of the basics, but you’d quickly given up. None of the guys had taken you seriously, and they had made sure to let you know where your place was – it was not with your hands deep in an engine.
Joel hummed at your answer and stubbed out his cigarette. “And Mr. Cooper’s the one that fired ya?” he asked.
You gave him a short nod. Your pointer finger burned with pain as you pulled at a piece of skin you’d picked loose around your nail.
“Why?”,
“The honest answer?” you sighed, and he nodded.
“I don’t know,” you told him, “he just called me into his office at the end of the day and told me he was gonna have to let me go– I was honestly too shocked to ask him why.”
“Oof,” Joel frowned.
“Yeah,” you sighed, you didn’t know what else to say.
“Well… you’ve given me a great impression, both last night and right now, so you’ve got the job, sweetheart– if you want it.” He leaned back in his chair, letting your resume fall from his hands.
“It can’t be that easy, can it?” the words fell from your lips before you had time to think. Joel raised a curious eyebrow at you. “I mean what’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch.”
He seemed to think about it for a beat, “Unless there is…” Joel’s lips tugged at the corners as he leaned over the table, “Remember I said I was an actor?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.
You gave him a skeptical nod.
“I’m an adult actor…” he lowered his voice, “You understand?” he asked before he leaned back in his seat again.
An adult actor. Your eyes widened with realization.
“Wait… you mean,” you looked around you before you leaned forward over the table like he’d just done, “you’re a pornstar?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.
“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Was it? Was it a problem for you?
The question tugged at the back of your neck. Tugged on your childhood, on your upbringing. You’d escaped; had your own apartment now, made your own money. You were trying to come into your own, to finally be your own person.
With teeth digging into your bottom lip, you looked at Joel. He watched you expectantly, head tipping slightly to the right as he studied you. There was no malice in his eyes, and nothing about him seemed grimy or obscene… Nothing about him screamed pornstar. If someone like him could do something so… unusual, for a job, maybe wasn’t so bad.
“No,” you decided, “it’s not a problem.”
“Groovy!” he grinned, “I’ll have my manager draw up a contract for you.”
And just like that you were officially Joel Miller’s, aka the infamous Joel Packer, personal assistant.
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Joel sat on the tiled steps outside his house, smoking a cigarette, when you pulled up to the curb. He perked up when he saw you, grabbing his worn leather duffel bag before he waltzed down his driveway.
“Cab for Miller?” you joked through the rolled down window, ducking your head to peek up at him.
He chuckled at your joke, pinching his cigarette between two fingers for one last drag, before putting it out with a twist of his shoe. The smog laid low over LA this morning, like a blanket. It was gonna be a long day, and a long drive.
Letting out a small grunt, Joel got in your car. The smell of cigarettes and cologne – the smell of him – filled the space between you. He twisted around tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, and your eyes couldn’t help but land on his bicep, watching the way his muscles flexed under the weight. You felt a sudden urge to roll down the window a little further.
When he turned back around, the smooth wood of your steering wheel looked extremely interesting.
“Thanks for drivin’, sweetheart. My car’s still in the shop for ‘nother few days.”
The corner of your mouth twisted into a small smile, “No problem, Joel.”
“Are we all set?” he breathed out his question before his hands landed on his thighs with a dull smack!
“Um, yes, it’s just…” you turned to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Steely Dan concert tee – All-American Tour ’74 – with his yellow tinted pilot sunglasses tucked into his neckline.
“Just what, sweetheart?”,
“I picked up a package for you– it’s in the backseat,” you cocked your head in the direction.
“What is it?” he twisted back around, one hand searching for the cardboard box behind his seat.
Even in the smoldering LA heat, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. “Um… it’s your package.”
“Yeah, I got that, honey– but what is it?” he asked again, twisting his hand back and placing the cardboard box in his lap.
You let out a small whine, “Don’t make me say it Joel– it’s your package.” You gestured a hand over your nether region.
Joel looked at you with a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “Oh, now I really wanna hear you say it,” he teased, hooking his finger under the tape.
“It’syourdick,” you said quickly, “–the dildo.”
In another step towards furthering Joel Packer’s success, he’d been asked to model for a sextoy. It’s no surprise he’d been asked. With the women’s liberation movement gaining more and more followers every day, more women had been exploring their own sexuality. Joel was popular with both men and women. He was like a chameleon when it came to porn. He knew just what to give, whether that would be hardcore porn, tossing his scene partners around and making them come until they couldn’t anymore; or doing full frontal nudity for a centerfold for Playgirl. 
With a drag of the tape, Joel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you’re still shy about that stuff, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ for me for how long now, huh? And you still can’t say dick to my face– what do you say to my business partners? Wiener?”
“I’m not shy,” you denied rather unconvincingly, making him shoot you an unimpressed look making you flutter. “I don’t know… it’s just different saying it to you!”
“Why?” he asked, pulling out the box with the dildo he’d modeled for.
Your eyes followed his hands, running over the pink packaging, the handsome photo they’d used of him on the front.
“I-I don’t know… it just is.”
A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he hummed – not convinced. Instead, he opened the box, pulling out the sextoy. The company had sent him one before they’d hit the shelves at the end of the month. They were being advertised in Playgirl first – to build up the hype. The sextoy looked exactly like him, and at the same time, nothing like him. The size and shape were true to life (8 inches like they’d advertised on the box), but the color was wrong.
“This is so fuckin’ weird,” he laughed, turning it in his hand, “’s this what I look like?”
“The color looks wrong,” you pointed out. He looked over at you for a beat and then back to the sextoy.
“’s a little… plastic-y,” he commented, “and weird lookin’ without the balls…”
He put the dildo back in the box before he handed it to you. You shook your head and turned the car key, “Just put it back in the backseat.”
“No, ‘s not what I meant,” he nudged your arm with the box, “you have it.”
You were glad the car stood still because the shock of his words would’ve made you get in a car accident.
“Why?” you said, a little flustered.
“Exactly what do women do with a dildo, I wonder?” he teased, nudging your arm again.
“No, Joel, that’s just weird– you’re my boss.” You nudged him back before you put the car in drive.
“You prefer the real thing, then?” a teasing lilt still wrapped around his words.
“Shut up,” you huffed, focusing on driving instead.
“I’m just messin’, sweetheart!” he laughed and threw the box messily behind him.
Leaning forward, Joel pushed the play button on your car radio. The cassette deck whirled before a twangy sound of piano filled your car as you started cruising down the road. A few seconds later Joni Mitchell sang the opening lines of the title track ‘Court and Spark’.
“I need you in charge of the map,” you broke the silence between you after a few minutes, “I don’t know where the house is.”
He opened your glove compartment, pulling out your map of California. You focused on the road while he studied the map.
“Looks like we need to get on the 101– it should take about three hours, Ronald said.”
You hummed. Ronald was Joel’s manager. He’d represented Joel for as long as Joel’s been in porn. Ronald was sleazy, and gross, and you tried to only be in his presence when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, for you, Ronald was a good manager, and the reason why Joel Packer was as popular a pornstar as he was.
“When we get to Pismo Beach we’ll just stop and ask around for the address.” Joel said, folding the map.
Usually, Ronald was the one who came along to set with Joel. His reasoning being that there was business to attend to, and that he was supportive of his client, but you knew the real (pervy) reason. You on the other hand had only come along to set a few times. Quick to embarrassment, you’d quickly hid yourself away in Joel’s dressing room, claiming you had work you’d neglected to do.
This time, Ronald couldn’t make it because of scheduling conflicts. Joel was gonna go alone, but then his car had broken down on the 405. He needed a ride, and who else to ask other than the person he paid to help him out. The shoot was taking place at a beach house somewhere in Pismo Beach. You’d never been to Pismo Beach before, and neither had Joel. The booking agent had told you it was nice enough and secluded. Perfect for shooting a porno without bringing too much attention. 
Three hours later, you and Joel arrived at the shoot. The beach house was busy and filled with people working like ants to get the film set ready. The shoot was scheduled to last for one day, and as the time flew past 10am, you were starting to get short on time.
As soon as you stepped inside, they ushered Joel straight to make-up and wardrobe. Careful not to be in anybody’s way, you took a look around the house. It was beautiful. Newly built, not more than ten years old you guessed, and right on the beach. Warm wood tones lined the walls and floors, and on the ceilings, sturdy beams met in the middle. A leather couch with matching chairs was turned towards the big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and a cowhide rug decorated the floor. They’d set up a step ladder by the windows, all ready for the first scene.
You found Joel a moment later in one of the bedrooms sitting, in a chair as he got his make-up done. You noticed he’d already changed into his costume. A pair of overalls with nothing underneath, and a toolbelt hanging from his hips.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes trailing your body.
“Hi,” you smiled, “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”
He looked at you, a pregnant pause passing between the two of you, “No, not right now.”
“Oh, okay!” you nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip, “Just let me know if there’s anything.”
You moved over to the bed where his clothes were spewed across the bedding. Trying to make yourself useful, you picked them up to fold them.
“D’you know if Tess is ready?” you heard him ask.
Tess was Joel’s scene partner for the day, and also his most frequent scene partner. They’d been in more films together over the past years than you could count, their chemistry always electric. Everything they did was just hot, and this time would be no exception. Tess was playing a neglected housewife all alone in her big beach house until carpenter Joel arrived to help her feel less alone with his tool(s).
“Um, no… I haven’t seen her at all– but I can go find out if you want?” you said, placing his folded t-shirt neatly on the bed.
“No, bless your heart, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, watching the make-up artist pack up her things before telling him he’s all set.
Left alone with Joel he spoke again, “You gonna watch today?”
His question kicked your heart into gear, stuttering along like a teenager who can’t drive stick. “I-I don’t know yet,” you folded his jeans, “… do you want me to?”
You felt him move closer, but he didn’t answer you. Gathering your courage, you met his eyes. He was watching you with a soft look in his eye, a look he’d sent you more and more often lately.
Grabbing your wrist, his calloused fingers like a warm bracelet, he took his jeans from your hand and placed them down next to his t-shirt.
“I’d like that.”
He said it with a smile, and you couldn’t do anything other than nod.
Joel had started to make you feel lots of things lately. Warm fuzzy feelings bubbled under your skin, just like the warmth from his hand on your wrist right now. Joel was a flirt, cocky and confident. Your complete opposite. You weren’t as shy as you’d been at the start of your job, but you couldn’t help but still be shy around Joel sometimes. Especially when he smiled at you the way he was right now, or when you felt his touch on your body.
The first scene they shot was the intro. A cheesy scene where Joel got invited into Tess the housewife’s home. One too many innuendos about ‘tools’ later, you’d slipped away before lunch time to find the catering table, fixing up a plate for Joel and one for yourself. After lunch, the fun began as the director had said. 
“Hey, sweetheart?” Joel’s fingers brushed over the back of your arm, getting your attention. You were about to go sit in his director’s chair, to watch as you’d promised.
“Yeah, Joel?” you looked at him through your lashes, your face curious. You tried very hard to keep them on his face, and not to let them wander to the outline of his hard cock through his overalls.
“Could you go get me some lube?” he asked you, eyes pleading.
“Oh! Um–” you nervously perked up, “Yes, of course,” you nodded, turning around yourself on the spot like you were already on the lookout.
“Thanks!” His hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to focus back on him, fingers rubbed over the material of your shirt. He was smiling at you, a small glint in his eye as he took you in. It made something inside you flutter, your eyes eclipsing over.
“OK guys! Quiet on set!” the director called, pulling you and Joel from your moment. His hand fell from your shoulder, a sorry smile draped across his face.
Slipping away, you went on a hunt for lube. When you came back you were met with the deep grunts of Joel as he got his cock sucked. He was fully naked, standing at the edge of the bed with Tess naked and dutifully on her knees for him – pleasuring him to heaven by the looks of it.
“There you go, baby,” he praised Tess, his big hand entangled in her hair as he pushed himself deeper down her throat. “You like sucking cock, don’t you? Like cheating on your husband like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are, huh?”
You knew he was just reading off his lines, but he said them like he hadn’t practiced at all, it was all so natural. Stumbling backwards towards his director’s chair, you sat down. You felt drawn to the scene before you, caught up in the moment, in the sounds of Joel’s moans and Tess’ spluttering around his cock. Never had you allowed yourself to watch him this openly before – it sent an electric pulse to your core.
Tess gave him head for a few minutes more, filth and praises fell from Joel’s mouth as the cameraman dutifully got every angle. Mesmerized by the scene playing out before you, a small pit started to form in your stomach – a mixture of pleasure and… jealousy. You shifted in the chair at the thought of you on your knees for him instead, pleasuring him and pulling those moans from his lips. Wondering if the praising words he told Tess, would sound different if it was you he told them to instead. You didn’t realize how caught up in the sight in front of you until you heard someone call your name.
It was Joel.
Shaking yourself from your fantasy daydreaming, you pulled yourself together. They’d changed positions while the cameraman changed the film. Joel was now sat on his knees on the bed with his cock standing to attention. On her back, he had Tess’ legs parted and splayed open in front of him.
Why was he talking to you?
He called your name again, figuring you hadn’t heard him over the humming of conversation now filling up the set. You hopped off the chair and nervously scurried over to him.
“What’s up?” you whispered. Your eyes were glued to his face, not daring to glide them even an inch downwards.
He hooked his fingers around your thumb. On his face he was wearing the widest grin, “Could you grab me some water?”
His touch sent your brain into overdrive, your eyes blinking around his question, “Y-yes– I’ll be right back.” His touch fell, and you scurried away to find him some water before they started filming again.
Back, and with a bottle of water in your hand you allowed yourself one quick look at his naked body. His broad chest, the way his muscles moved underneath his tan skin. Your eyes raked over his body, down his stomach, trailing the happy trial down to his impressive cock.
“Okay, everybody– we’re all set!” The loud voice of the director made you jump. Joel handed back the bottled water, a rough hand wiping the corner of his mouth.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
If he’d clocked you checking him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he got ready while you made your way back to his director’s chair. Tess said something you couldn’t quite catch, but it got his attention. He grinned from ear to ear, a quick look in your direction, before he playfully shook his head at her.
The next scene had you squirming in your seat.
With his head between her legs, Joel used both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her – and Tess was clearly enjoying herself. Her hands were digging into his hair, pushing him greedily down onto her pussy. High pitched, pornographic moans and whimpers escaped her. Joel was clearly enjoying himself too, moaning and groaning into her pussy as he ate her out greedily, making sure to pull every ounce of pleasure from her.
Tess came with a cry, withering breathlessly as she squirmed in Joel’s hold. He held her shaking legs in a tight grip, not letting up his licking and sucking until he’d pulled another orgasm from her. With a breathless laugh she pushed him away, big wide smile spreading as he peppered kisses to the inside of her thigh. You shifted slightly in your seat. An unmistakable wetness had gathered in your panties. You crossed your leg over the other, subtly.
With a tap to her thigh Joel encouraged Tess to turn over. He sat up, resting back on his heels as he stroked his cock languidly. Tess moved onto all fours, arching her back and putting herself on display for him. The camera moved in closer, a watchful eye, as Joel ran a finger through her folds.
“So wet for me, baby,” he said, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. “This pussy’s been neglected, hasn’t it? ‘s just dying to be fucked.”
He thrusted inside her, burying himself in her pussy, moans and groans falling from both their lips. You felt the air stand still for a beat, before he pulled back and thrusted back inside. They quickly built up a rhythm, skin slap slap slapping, as their moans held the tune. They moved in sync. Joel kept up the pace, hands holding her waist firmly, while Tess met them with a breathy moan. When she gripped the sheets in pleasure, you wondered if it really felt as good as she let on, or if it was all just part of the show.
“Face the camera,” the director interrupted suddenly. He wanted a close up of Tess getting fucked.
Joel slipped out of her, the bright lights catching on his glistening cock. The sight of Tess’ arousal reminded you, and the bottle of lube in your lap, about your insignificancy. Joel quickly slipped back inside Tess, a hand gripping her shoulder as he picked up the pace again.
“Just like that, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”
You felt silly, the reality of what you’d just done settling in. Why on earth would you agree to watch Joel? Pornstar or not, he’s still your boss. Your longing for him to be something else, would never erase that fact.
Disappointment was a heavy rope tying you down. You needed to get out of there before you hurt your own feelings. Sliding out of the chair, you left the bottle of lube. Straightening out your suede skirt, let out a quiet sigh. You didn’t want to look at him, but something drew you to him either way.
You locked eyes immediately, his eyes were dark and intense. He picked up the pace, Tess almost screaming with pleasure underneath him, but his eyes still didn’t leave yours. You couldn’t look away. The world narrowed until the only thing you could see was him.
With a grunt and a firm thrust, Joel came inside her, mouth parted in pleasure and eyes never leaving yours.
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Squeezed into a flimsy plastic chair, feet planted steadily in front of him, Joel sat smoking a cigarette by the pool. Ripples of blue swam across his face, before giving way to the soft warmth of the burning cigarette. He looked deep in thought as you got out of your car, a plastic bag of take-out swinging from your hand. You slammed the door shut, jolting Joel from his thoughts. The evening wind softly kissed your bare arms as you walked across the parking lot to the fenced in pool area.
The shoot had run long and by the time it was over, it was late. Joel was tired, and when he’d suggested you stay at a motel for the night, you’d been quick to agree. Watching the darkening sky, you’d started to dread the three-hour drive back to LA – you’d rather wait for daylight.
Situated right off the main road Joel had spotted a Motel 6 with the neon ‘Vacancy’ light humming. With tired steps you’d walked together towards the lobby, and the lady at the desk didn’t look up from her magazine when you and Joel approached. Behind her, coming through the door to the back office, you heard a laugh track.
Joel turned on his southern charm, “’Scuse me, ma’am.”
The receptionist still didn’t look up from her magazine.
“Do y’all have two rooms vacant?”
With a sigh, the woman looked up at him, peering over her glasses. “We only have one Queen left.” She smacked her lips together obnoxiously as she spoke, a piece of gum visible in her teeth.
Joel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised. Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t know what to say. If they only had one room, they only had one room. You tapped your foot restlessly, made a face like you were thinking it over before you gave Joel a short but affirmative nod. He watched you for another beat, before he turned back around to say, “We’ll take it.”
The room was nothing much; a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, two chairs and a table tucked into one corner, and a door leading to a small bathroom. First thing Joel did was find a place to put his bag. You didn’t have a bag, only your handbag, you hadn’t planned on not sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel, on the other hand, always brought a change of clothes to set. He’d told you once he didn’t like to leave in the same clothes he’d arrived in.
As you closed in on Joel by the pool you realized he was still wearing his clothes from this morning. He’d told you he wanted to shower, so you’d gone out to get you both some dinner to give him some privacy. Now you wondered if he’d even had his shower.
“Hungry?” you asked, putting the plastic bag down on the round table beside him.
He took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching you through a cheeky smile, “Starvin’.”
“The only thing open was the roadside diner, so I’m afraid it’s greasy burgers.” 
Joel gave you a shrug as you sat down, “Works for me.”
You ate in silence – sloshing coming from the pool and the cicadas hiding in the bushes, filled the air instead. When Joel finished his burger, and started on his fries, he looked up at you.
“So, what’d you think?” he asked you. You were silent for a second, before you looked down at the burger in your hand.
“Er...” you hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to say, “It’s not bad... meat’s a little dry, but–”
Joel interrupted your train of thought with a deep chuckle.
“I meant the porno, darlin’,” he said, using one of the napkins to wipe the corners of his mouth, “not the burger.” A smile pulled at his lips.
“Oh,” you said, and felt your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You swallowed, buying yourself some time before you gave him a shrug.
“Was good,” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I’m sure your fans will love it!”
“I wasn’t askin’ about them,” Joel said. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, “Was askin’ you, wasn’t I? Did you like it?”
Despite the desperate embarrassment firing through your veins, you raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me about porn over dinner?”
“Fair point,” he said with a nod, “You’re deflecting, though.”
A small chuckle escaped you, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth as you shook your head and looked away for a second.
“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, looking back at him, “It’s porn, I’m human... of course I liked it.”
Bingo.
You can see from the corners of Joel’s smile that he’s happy with that answer, and he lets out an agreeing hum.
“See?” he said, his tone teasing, “Was that so hard to admit?”
“You’re unbelievable,” you said through a small scoff, pushing your styrofoam container away from you as you fell back in your chair.
“I am–… what was your favorite part?”
He was grinning hard now. He dug a hand in his back pocket, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. You watched him with your head tilted, waiting for him to let you off the hook like he usually did. Instead, he grinned even wider, small splutters of breathy giggles making the cigarette dip as he tried to light it.
“Gimmie that!” you commanded, reaching out your hand for his cigarette. With a surprised eyebrow he took a quick drag before he handed it over. He watched you quietly as you took a breath. Savoring the first tar-y breath filling up your lungs.
“I liked the way you…” you took another drag and exhaled through your nose, “I don’t know…” you handed him the cigarette.
“I’m waitin’,” he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him.
“Well,” you sighed, “I liked the way you’re so attentive and made sure she’s feeling good even though it’s acting and everything… Even when you’re like throwing her around, all in charge and stuff.” You waved away the words.
“Yeah, well, that is the most important part of sex,” he gave you a look. Suddenly, he was a little serious. “It’s not fun if she’s not havin’ fun.”
“Not every guy thinks like that, you know,” you spoke, “it’s really nice that you do.”
Joel hummed at your words before a comfortable silence fell over you. You listened to the buzzing cicadas and the burning of Joel’s cigarette every time he took a drag.
“And… the dirty talk was hot too– you’re good at that,” you mused after a moment, breaking the silence, feeling comfortable enough with Joel to tell him the truth. He doesn’t judge you about what you think was sexy, and you realized it felt nice to open up to somebody, to let your suffocating shame die.
“Now, darlin’,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “now you’re just strokin’ my ego.”
“I can stroke more than your ego.”
Joel choked on his cigarette, coughing around the smoke before he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Am I goin’ crazy, or did you just tell a dirty joke?”
Your giggle filled the air between you before you leaned forward for his cigarette again. You brought it to your mouth as you impishly shrugged. Inside, you buzzed with a fluttery feeling. 
You smiled at him. “I don’t know– you tell me.”
He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, leaning over the table to get a good look at you, “I’m not sure I’m likin’ this… where’s my sweet girl, huh?”
My sweet girl.
Your heart skipped like stones over water, and you had to look away. A smile blooming across your face. You heard him let out a sweet chuckle before he stood from his chair. The plastic feet scraping ever so slightly against the concrete. You watched him as he stepped before you, squatting down to be at eye level with you, his big hand landing on your exposed knee to steady himself.
“She’s still here,” you whispered after a moment. The cigarette between your fingers was burning out, but your whole body felt like it was on fire, a burning spreading from under his touch.
“I know she is, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his fingers rubbing gently over your skin. Joel looked at you with attentive eyes, “I love how shy you get for me.”
Before you had time to process his words, he pinched the cigarette from your fingers and stood to his feet. “Let’s call it a night?” he asked you, offering up his hand for you to take.
Feeling brave, you took his hand. It dwarfed your own, but it was strong, and warm in your hold. You watched as Joel finished off the cigarette, and stumped it out in the ashtray on the table, before gathering up your trash. You walked back to your room, hands intertwined and swinging between you. You couldn’t shake the thought of how you wished he’d kissed you.
Back inside your room he let you use the bathroom first. It was small, and the air was damp. You could see droplets of water clinging to the shower curtain. Joel did shower after all, he’d rinsed the day off into the drain. With no toiletries, you made do with what the motel offered. A bar of soap was sufficient enough to remove your make-up, but you knew your skin would punish you for it later. After brushing your teeth, you stepped back out where Joel waited for you on the bed.
“I’ve got a spare shirt if you wanna borrow it.” He held up his hand, handing you the clean cotton shirt he’d packed.
“Thanks,” you smiled shyly.
He watched you for a beat, his eyes soft, but tired. “And I’ll sleep in one of the chairs– don’t want ya worryin’ about nothin’.”
Shaking your head, you protested, “No, Joel, you’ve had a long day! I’ll sleep in the chair!”
This time he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “No, darlin’, you’re drivin’ tomorrow, remember? You’ll need your rest.”
Your eyebrows met in a furrow. He was right; you couldn’t do the drive back to LA tomorrow on no sleep, but you couldn’t live with yourself if he didn’t get any sleep either.
“Let’s just…” you trailed off, “You’re tired, I’m tired– let’s both sleep in the bed?” you suggested.
Crawling under the sheets clad in only your underwear and Joel’s t-shirt, you wondered if you were being unprofessional. This was technically a work trip. Joel was still your boss. You looked over at him where he sat on the edge with his back turned, fiddling with the alarm clock. Your eyes trailed over his bare back, tan and strong. You knew you could stare at him all night.
It was official: you’d left professional at the door.
Finally, the alarm clock set for tomorrow morning, Joel put it back on the nightstand. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught your eyes on his body. It made him smile.
“Joel? Can I ask you something?”
He got under the sheets, his foot grazing against yours as he got comfortable. “Yeah, sweetheart.”
“Can you turn off the light?”
“You needn’t ask me if you can ask me, to turn off the light,” he laughed, “you can just say ‘Joel, turn off the light’.”
You scrunched your face together. This was coming out all wrong. “No, I mean… I don’t think I can ask you my question with the lights still on.”
He looked you over with a warm smile before he leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand. “There… what you want to ask me?”
Even bathed in darkness, you hesitated to speak. “Um… I guess…” you started, not knowing how to ask what you wanted to ask. You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling, cursing the return of your shyness.
Joel waited for you patiently to gather your courage.
“How much… of porn, is fake?” you finally uttered.
Joel turned to his side, facing you, “What do you mean?”
“Like… when– when the girls…” You couldn’t say it.
“Come?”, he helped.
“Yeah,” you breathed out, “is that real or… like– do they actually like it?”
“Right…”
Joel thought about your question, “’s hard to say… I mean mostly it’s real– at least in my experience– like I can feel it around my cock or fingers… but everybody has off days, and not everybody can come from penetration.”
Mostly it’s real. You went quiet, silently thinking about his answer as you stared a hole in the ceiling. Not everybody can come from penetration.
“Why you askin’ me this, sweetheart?” He shifted a little closer.
You pulled your hands from under the sheets, resting them over your chest. Your thumb on your right hand found your thumb on the left where it picked at the skin.
“Huh?”
“I­– I don’t know… it’s silly.”
“No, ‘s not– you’re not silly, sweetheart.” He shifted a little closer, a reassuring hand falling over your own and stopping you from picking at your fingers.
You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him either. You felt silly. You’d just complimented him earlier about how attentive he comes across in bed, and now you’re asking him if any of it was even real. 
“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked, breaking the silence between you.
Nodding your head, you hummed.
“Are you a virgin?”
His question almost made you jump. Suddenly, his previously calming hands over yours felt heavy. A fire started in your cheeks. You were mortified, and it felt crazy. If you were back home right now, you’d be mortified to tell anyone you weren’t a virgin seeing as you were unmarried. Now, with Joel, you felt mortified he thought you were one.
“No,” you peeped. It would’ve sounded like a lie if it wasn’t the truth. “W-what makes you say that?” You finally looked at him, your eyes wide as saucers.
Unconvinced, he gave you a lopsided smile, “How many have you slept with?”
“How many have you slept with?” you mumbled.
“Honey, we both know that I’ve slept with way too many to count.” He said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, and a comforting rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. His small touch was enough to relax you, to bring you back from the ledge of mortification. This was Joel for god’s sake. He would never judge you; you knew that.
“One…” you whispered, “Only one person.”
With a hum, Joel shifted over to lay on his back, but his thumb still rubbed circles over your skin. “So– you’re asking me this ‘cause it was bad?” he mused.
“I don’t know… maybe,” you whispered.
“You don’t know if it was bad– or you don’t know why you’re askin’ me if women enjoy sex?”
“The latter,”
“So, it was bad,” he concluded, before he whispered, mostly to himself.
The silence was back, speaking loudly between the two of you as you both processed what the other had just said. After a beat Joel turned back on his side to face you again.
“Tell me– how bad was it?” He said it softly, a tenderness in his voice you hadn’t heard before.
“It just… it hurt.”
You sighed, and for the first time since the light went out you turned your head to look at him. “John–” your face scrunched up in a grimace as you spoke his name, like you couldn’t believe you were telling him this story. “He worked in accounting, and we were going around, you know? Went on a few dates. He was a sweet guy. After the third date we went back to his place, for a drink. He kissed me– and then we were making out, and during everything I just thought ‘This might as well happen’. I thought I wanted to lose my virginity… and I liked John– so why not. But then he just… pulled off my underwear, didn’t even touch me and… went to town.”
Joel sucked a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. “Did you– have you ever had an orgasm?”
You shifted uncomfortably under his question and turned your head back towards the ceiling again. “Yes,” you whispered.
Joel moved a little closer, and you felt your body dip towards him from his weight against the mattress. His hand resting over yours traveled down your arm, and under the sheet.
“By your own hand then,” he said it more like a statement than a question.
You felt your heart beat out of your chest, as something in the air between you shifted. Underneath the covers your body burned. Sucking in a breath, you held it for a moment before you nodded.
“Show me.”
His hand grazed over your waist, fingers dancing over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of your panties. You reveled in it, his touch, his proximity, his gentle kiss to your shoulder. You looked at him, searched his face for any indication that he was just messing with you.
“No? Ain’t feelin’ it?” He’d watched you too, you realized.
He withdrew his hand from your waist, and you panicked, “No!”
He stopped, instead hovering his hand over your body. “No, you ain’t feelin’ it, or no, don’t stop?” he asked you.
You panicked again. “Yes!” you said before your eyebrows met in a furrow, “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t very sexy.”
Joel withdrew his hand from your body, and your disappointment sank like a rock in water, but then he cupped your jaw and you forgot to breathe.
“Forget about sexy, sweetheart,” he told you, a calloused thumb rubbing against your skin, “not that you ain’t sexy– you are, but I need you to relax, okay?”
You nodded, and a smile spread wide across his face,
“Good girl.”
You almost mewled at the praise, and he noticed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
“You liked that, huh?” he teased, rubbing his thumb softly over your lower lip, “Y’like being a good girl for me?”
You found it hard to think with him so close, breathless when he touched you like this. You nodded slowly; moony eyes fixated on him. Like a reflex, your legs rubbed together under the sheets, aching to relieve the pressure building.
“You’re so sweet, baby­– and shy,” his voice was low, like he was afraid someone would hear him. Slowly he leaned closer, pressing the softest kiss to your neck. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.
You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, teeth nipping as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sensitive skin. “You make my cock so fuckin’ hard.”
“Joel,” you finally choked out, a wet patch already soiling your panties.
“Yes?” he took your earlobe in his mouth, gently biting down on it before letting it go. You couldn’t think – at least not about something that wasn’t Joel and his touch.
“P-please kiss me?” you tried, your hand landing on his shoulder.
His breath puffed against your skin in a small chuckle, before he lifted his face from his new home in the crook of your neck. He found your blown out face, watching you with a tenderness in his eye. A beat passed and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips over yours. Your hand on his shoulder followed his neck to cup his face, keeping him close to you. His hand pushed gently at the sheets, revealing your upper body to him. The kiss was tender and slow, your noses pressed together. He pulled you apart and then put you together again. One of his hands trailed along the hem of your – his – t-shirt where he pushed at the fabric, bunching it just below your breasts. You broke apart.
“Was that all you wanted, sweet girl? Just a kiss?” His forehead touched your own, words low and taunting. You slowly shook your head, eyes still locked with Joel’s. His hand moved methodically, trailing down your stomach until it reached…
Your breath hitched in your throat.
“No?” he asked with a teasing grin, “What do you want then, sweetheart?”.
He already knew. His open palm cupped you over your soaked panties, the breadth of it pressing firmly down on your clit. You mewled under him, hips bucking up to meet his hand.
“Nah-ah,” he lifted his head from your forehead, dark eyes boring into yours. “You need to show me.”
Joel had started a dangerous fire inside of you. It lapped at your insides, burned away your insecurities, and replaced them with lust. With a shaky hand, your hand found Joel’s. His eyes were still locked on you ­– his gaze burning your cheek and branding you his.
“There you go,” he praised, letting you guide his hand up and down your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric, “good girl.”
You guided him to your clit, pressing the pads of his finger down on it in tight circles. You were so sensitive – on edge since you watched him filming earlier – a small moan fell from your lips.
“Feels good doesn’t it, baby, getting your clit rubbed.”
“Yes…” Joel drew another moan from you.
Your grip around his hand loosened, and Joel took over. With a practiced hand he circled his fingers just right. He started with a steady pace and tight circles, before he put more pressure on your aching bud. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge, coaxing small whimpers and breathy moans from your lips as you got more and more lost in the pleasure he was giving you.
“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” he asked you, dipping his hand beneath your panties. A bold finger ran through your folds, a finger teasing at your entrance.
Your front teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite down to suppress a moan. It was hard to concentrate on what he was asking you when he was touching you like that.
“Y-yes, but…” you trailed off, feeling his finger, now coated in your arousal, back on your clit. It made your brain go blank.
“But what, sweet girl?” he pulled his hand from your panties, and you whined.
A wet trail followed him up your stomach. When you made no move to answer, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leaning closer he pressed a short but tender kiss to your lips; his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow.
“It’s too messy,” you said when he pulled back, shaking your head.
“Yeah? You’ve got a messy pussy, sweetheart?”
Joel leaned down again, pressing soft fluttering kisses down your throat. When he reached the collar of your shirt, he pulled at the fabric, exposing your collarbone to his kisses. Your hands found his hair, tethering you to the moment.
“Yes,” you whispered, heat burning your cheeks at the confession he pulled from you.
With a wide grin, Joel sat up. His fingers found the hem of your shirt. He helped you pull it over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Not even a second later he was back to kissing his way down your body, worshiping you with every press. You burned under him, every kiss like a small death.
Shifting on the bed, he settled between your legs. His mustache tickled the skin on your tummy, making you giggle. You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, at the sound of your fluttering laugh. He let his lips brush over your skin, trailing downwards to the top of your panties where he pressed a kiss, teeth pulling at the small bow like you were a present to be unwrapped, before his fingers hooked around the elastic. With a lift of your hips, you let him pull off your panties. The wet spot in the center clung to your cunt, as he peeled them off.
“Fuck,” he cursed, “wanna taste you, baby, wanna taste that messy pussy.”
With his fingers back on your cunt, you jumped a little under his touch. The air filled with a slick sound of your arousal as he ran them through your folds, a finger teasing your entrance.
“Relax for me baby,” he soothed, gently pressing kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll take care of you.”
Looking down at him between your legs, you let yourself go. His eyes bored into yours. Warmth and lust, and nothing but affection behind them.
You nodded, “Please.”
A wide grin blossomed across Joel’s face as he leaned down, hovering just above your clit. He ducked forward, pressing the softest kiss to your clit, taking it slow and easing you into it with slow licks. You couldn’t help the whimpers escaping you, a needy sound desperate for more – more Joel. He pinned you down with his arm splayed over your tummy, keeping you right where he wanted you, turning you into a withering moaning mess under him.
Joel continued exploring you with his tongue. Changing between flicking and lapping at your clit, circling it just right, and wrapping his lips around it, giving it gentle sucks. He lapped at your folds, the hook of his nose catching on your clit as he tasted you properly. You felt yourself pushed closer and closer towards the edge, coxed by Joel.
Two careful fingers spread you apart, gliding up and down, coated in your arousal. He easily found your entrance to push a finger carefully inside. You felt yourself clench down on him; you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive and so close. Dropping your mouth open, a breathy moan escaped.
“Oh, fuck,”
Joel hummed against your pussy, the vibrations traveling straight to the coil tightening in your tummy. Slowly, he started thrusting his finger inside, rewarded by a slick sound, telling him just how wet and desperate you were for him. With a moan your head rolled back into the pillow – you were so close.
“Joel,” you panted.
His tongue continued his assault on your clit, and you lost yourself in him. You clamped down on his finger with every thrust. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Joel was so focused on you, so attentive, so responsive. Between your legs he drank in every twist of pleasure and whimpering moan.
“Joel,” you panted again.
“You’re gonna come for me aren’t you, sweetheart? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” he coaxed.
Joel quickly withdrew his finger to slip in another, and the new stretch had your legs shaking. His tongue circled your clit, sucking it with just the right amount of pressure. Underneath him you squirmed, breathy moans hitching in your throat.
“Oh, god,”
You couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t take it anymore.
With a silent cry, you came. His strong arm over your tummy held you down, as you twitched against the mattress, legs shaking. You’d never felt anything like this before. A pleasure so all-consuming you couldn’t remember your name, or where you were – only Joel. He helped you through it. His fingers kept up their pace, pads brushing right up against that spot of bliss, as you clenched down hard around them. You gripped the sheets, desperate for a lifeline as you came down.
Joel slowed down his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your clit. Your pleasure turning to overstimulation – now you definitely couldn’t take it anymore. Fragile and sensitive, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.
He let you push him around, his lips finding the inside of your thighs instead, where his mustache teased the sensitive skin. With one last kiss, Joel pulled away. You almost didn’t register the dip in the mattress as he laid down beside you. You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a post-orgasm-cloud.
“Joel, shit, I…” you tried to speak, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.
“I know, sweetheart,” Joel answered. He pulled you closer, wrapping a hand around you. Slowly, you turned to your side, engulfed in Joel’s embrace.
“D-did you want to–”
You could feel the presence of his hard clothed cock pressed against your ass, but his big safe arms around you told you a different story. He nosed at the back of your neck, pressing fluttering kisses to the skin, making goosebumps erupt.
“No, darlin’, not tonight,” his voice was just above a whisper, the bass vibrating against your ear.
“Are you sure­? I-I mean– we can if you want to,” you spluttered. He’d just given you the best orgasm in your life, he shouldn’t have to go to bed without one for himself.
“Not tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “It’s been a long day– I’m tired, you’re tired­… let’s just sleep, my sweet girl.”
“S-should we talk about this?” you asked, your hand slipping into his, pressing it against your naked chest.
“In the mornin’,” he hummed, voice coated in sleep.
With heavy eyelids, you fell asleep in Joel’s arms. The safety of being wrapped up in him, lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the pillow thin and flimsy, but it didn’t matter in Joel’s arms.
Morning came too quickly, and with a screeching sound of an alarm clock that pulled you from heaven. Jolting awake behind you, Joel groaned. His hands slipped from your body; the warmth exchanged with prickling goosebumps. You shifted over on your back, watching as Joel turned off the alarm. The beeping stopped, and with a tired grunt Joel laid down back beside you. When he looked at you – his tired eyes glinting – a sleepy smile pulled at his lips.
“Mornin’,”
“Good morning, Joel” you smiled back.
“It is a good mornin’, isn’t it?” he hummed, turning on his side.
You mirrored him, shifting closer and resting your head on his pillow. He snaked a hand over the dip in your waist, big hand splaying over your naked back.
“It is,” you agreed, locking eyes with him.
Rubbing in slow circles, his hand on your back was soothing. You reveled in it, reveled in Joel, in the bliss of being so close to him. You shifted even closer, resting your forehead to his chest.
“You should probably fire me,” you mumbled into his skin, “I’ve been extremely unprofessional.”
A chuckle came from deep inside Joel, it vibrated through his skin, where you felt it under your fingertips.
“I ain’t firin’ my best employee,” he laughed, placing a dry kiss to the top of your head.
You pulled away with a frown, head back on your own pillow. “This is like the cliché of clichés, Joel– sleeping with your assistant…”
In the bright light of the day, you cursed yourself for your late-night moment of weakness. You’ve never done anything like this before. What if this will be all that Joel wants from you from now on? You don’t think your heart could take it if it was.
Joel’s laugh died in his throat, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. “Who said anything about sleepin’ with my assistant?”
Your eyes widened with mortification. Shit. A hand came up to rub at your face, as you sat up, pulling the sheets around you.
“Hey, no, sweetheart,” Joel grabbed at your hand, stopping you in your tracks.
You couldn’t look at him – afraid tears would push behind your eyes. He’s a pornstar, what were you thinking? You were just a girl. A girl to warm his bed for a night. How could you put your job on the line for something like this?
The sheets rustled as he shifted closer, “Please, lay down, I need to talk to you.”
“Joel, I-I’m sorry– w-we can just forget about it– I’ll quit, don’t worry about it– me, don’t worry about me,” you stuttered out, your back still turned.
“I ain’t forgettin’ about nothin’, sweetheart– shit, d’you think I do this often?”
His question made you turn around. He was propped up on his elbow, carefully watching you.
You nodded, and he sighed.
“It’s been years since I’ve slept with someone outside of work,” he confessed, “Shit, I don’t even seek it out, I ain’t interested in it.”
“I-I’m sorry Joel, I­–” you started, but he cut you off,
 “You’re not listenin’,” he shook his head, “what I’m sayin’ is: I wanna sleep with you.”
Your face scrunched up in a confused frown, “Because I’m someone from work?”
Joel let out a breathless chuckle, “No, sweetheart, ‘s because I think you’re beautiful.”
His words almost didn’t register.
“What?”
This time his laugh is loud and golden, coated in happiness. He pulled at your hand, and you fell, your back hitting the sheets.
“You are…” he emphasized, cupping your cheek, and guiding you back in his embrace. “And you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you? But so smart, and kind, and caring­– someone you can’t help but fall in love with.”
“Fall in love with?” you repeated, you couldn’t believe what he was telling you.
“Yeah, sweet girl,” he smiled at you, all teeth, and crinkles around his eyes in the morning light.
“Oh,”
“Yeah,” he laughed, guiding your face closer to his, his lips brushing over yours, “wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”
His kiss stole your breath and twisted you up inside. He licked at the seam, and you opened yourself to him. He licked into your mouth, one arm snaked around your body, drawing you closer, pulling whine after desperate whine from you and stealing your breath.
Landing on your hip, his hand traveled downwards – over the thick of your thigh, and down the inside in smooth motions. He tugged on your leg, pulling it to rest over his hip, his hard cock rutting into your bare heat. His kiss got more desperate; his tongue melded with yours. It was hot, and dizzying and all-consuming all at the same time.
You grinded against him, feeling his hard cock against you. The fabric of his underwear caught on your clit, rubbing it just right, your arousal darkening the fabric. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate need for Joel building deep in your stomach.
With a rut of his hips, he broke away from your kiss. “You want me to fill up this perfect little pussy, don’t you baby?” His hand on your cheek disappeared between your bodies.
“Yes,” you tried to say, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the head of Joel’s cock rub up and down your folds. Your heavy breathing, the slick sound of your arousal the only sound in the room.
“Listen’ baby, y’hear how wet you are for me?” he whispered in awe, the head of his cock caught on your clit. You braced yourself with a hand to his shoulder, breathy pants the only sounds leaving your lips.
“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he chuckled. He let go of the grip around his cock, the sound of it slapping against his stomach obscene. A beat later he swiped his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal before drawing tight circles to your clit.
Your face squeezed shut in pleasure, your fingers dug into his shoulder. He eased a finger inside, before he quickly pulled out and added another. The stretch of his fingers was easy, your arousal dripping over his knuckles as he thrusted them inside with ease.
You grinded down on his hand, meeting his thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper inside. Always so attentive, Joel curled his fingers where they hit your spot perfectly, just like he’d done last night. A breathy squeal fell from your lips.
“That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he egged you on.
“Joel, please,” you panted. Sparks traveled through your body, collecting in a pit in your stomach where it coiled in on itself, aching for release.
He curled his fingers again, and hit your spot – his palm snug against your throbbing clit, “Fuckin’ perfect you are, darlin’, so tight and wet around my fingers.”
“Shit,”
He pushed you straight for the edge, your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your panting got heavier, your eyes squeezed shut, you’re so close. Joel chuckled, his breath puffing your face and he… pulled away.
You whined at the emptiness, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.
He cupped your jaw, “Poor baby,” he pouted before he pulled you in for a kiss. You sighed into him, desperate to feel him anyway he wanted.
“Turn around,” he ordered against your lips, his hand letting go of your jaw to tap at the top of your hip.
You did as he told you, turning around in his hold to press your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressed against you. Behind you, you heard him let out a deep and guttural groan. His hand hooked under your thigh, lifting it to your chest and exposing your wet and desperate cunt for him. You let him manhandle you into the position he wants, trusting him to know what’ll feel the best.
He guided the tip of his cock through your soaked folds coating it in your arousal before grazing it over your throbbing clit.
“You ready, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, like a hiss. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you, and himself.
“I-I need it, Joel, please,” you begged, a hand clinging to the sheets.
“Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need this big cock to fill you up?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside.
“Joel, please, please,” you whimpered, almost a squeak. In one fluid motion he pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside you. The stretch of him was overwhelming, but the angle had you seeing stars.
“Ah– fuck,” you cried, your eyes immediately squeezing shut. Your hand searched for his where it held your leg to your chest. You needed to anchor yourself to him, afraid you’d fall apart right there and then.
“You alright sweetheart?” you heard him whisper in your ear, and you nodded slightly, “Feel good?”
“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, mouth dipping open in pleasure. 
Behind you he groaned into your ear, cursing in hushed whispers. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all that cock inside,” he pulled out nearly all the way, taking his time with it, moving with practiced motions.
“Shit,” you mewled as he bottomed out inside for the second time. Grinding against your ass, he pushed himself as deep as he possible could – you felt him in your fucking stomach, he was so deep.
“You can take it, sweetheart,” he told you, pulling out and thrusting back inside.
Picking up the pace, Joel started fucking into you deep and hard. With each grind of his hips against your ass, with every thrust, he made sure to bury his thick cock as deep inside as he could, angling his cock expertly so the head rubbed up against your spot. Behind you he grunted and moaned in your ear. It was sweaty and hot, and sticky between your legs.
He let go of your leg, ordering you to press it to your chest, as his hand traveled downwards to brush his fingers over your throbbing clit.
“Joel,” you mewled. He pulled a symphony of whimpers and moans from you with every thrust.
“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight– shit,” he panted in your ear, “You’re so good for me baby, takin’ that cock so well.”
His fingers pressed down on your clit, drawing tight circles, pushing you towards the edge of bliss. You squirmed against him, hips meeting his with every thrust as you start to chase your fast approaching orgasm.
“Need you to come for me, sweetheart– squeeze that cock like a good girl.”
“Joel,” you cried and let go. Your walls fluttered around his cock as you came, back arching off his chest, as your body squirmed and shook in his arms. Breathy gasps and pathetic whimpers left your lips as he kept up his unrelenting pace, fucking you through it, and prolonging your high.
You were far away. Blissed and fucked out as you came down from your moment of ecstasy. Behind you Joel’s grunts bordered on desperate, as his thrusts started to become sloppy.
“Shit, sweetheart– m’close, so fuckin’ close.”
“Come for me Joel,” you pleaded.
“Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.
His hand was on you in an instance, pushing you to your stomach as he turned you around. He knelt over you, fisting his cock desperately. Turning your head, you pushed off the bed to look over your shoulder where you found his eyes, locking them with his. Joel came with a guttural moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening and loosening as he coated your ass in his cum. It was hot and sticky on your back, feeling it drip slowly down the side of your waist.  
“God damn,” he breathed out through a chuckle. His breath was heavy, like he’d just climbed ten stories.
You turned to your side to look up at him properly. He looked beautiful; his hair messy from sleep, broad chest heaving, a content smile pulling at his lips as you gave him a smile.
“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”
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i hope you liked this! part two -> here
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strang3lov3 · 6 months
Text
VS
Summary: Yours and Joel’s newest patrol task is exploring the old mall not far from Jackson. You learn what Victoria’s Secret really is. (She was NOT having an affair with former president of the United States Colonel Sanders) AKA grumpy cranky joel and you get down and dirty in an old Victoria’s Secret.
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This is part 1 of my new series “Mall Rats”
Warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, doin it in front of a mirror (thanks gracie!), reverse cowgirl, joel is a dick, joel is condescending, reader is charming just like me, Joel does all the work because reader is a lady and Joel is an asshole.
W/C: 4.7k
“Weird looking stairs,” you mumble as you take in the unique environment. Beneath your feet are metallic steps with deep lined grooves, in front of you is Joel, stepping down the staircase. In the enclosed building, the walls are lined with different shops, there’s a few different seating areas. Old posters, advertisements. Colorfully painted walls are overgrown with roots and vines. 
“S’cause they’re not regular stairs,” Joel says with a gruff voice. “S’called an escalator. Didn’t have to walk up and down the steps, you could stay stationary and it’d move ya up an’ down.”
“Sounds cool.”
“No,” Joel mutters. “Not cool.”
None of this is cool to Joel. In fact, it’s the opposite. 
Tommy and his crew had stumbled across this mall while on patrol. Of course they couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but they deemed it largely safe of infected. He wasn’t sure how picked over it was, but he figured it would be a good task for you and your curious mind. Comb it through for supplies, clothing, entertainment. Take notes and report back to him. 
So what was Joel there for?
To chaperone you, of course. Keep you out of trouble, keep you safe, answer your million and one questions. 
It was Tommy’s sick and twisted idea of a joke. Joel’s new patrol project involved two of the things he disdained the most: Malls, and you.
 Comedy gold.
“No,” you mock his tone with a silly face, “Not cool.”
Joel rolls his eyes and ignores you. When you reach the bottom of the steps, he looks at his surroundings as he reaches in his bag for his flashlight. Turning it on he says, “We’ll start down here and work our way up. Scope everything out, get familiar. Then you can start combing through the stores for supplies and what have you. You stick by me. No wanderin’.”
“Don’t you mean we?” you ask. “We comb through the stores.”
“No, sweetheart, I don’t. S’your job, not mine. I’m just here to keep ya from gettin’ killed.”
Whatever. Joel can bitch and moan about this all he wants, but you’re grateful for the opportunity to explore the infinite wonders of the mall. It’s not like you’ve got much else to do. You’re indoors, safe from the elements and infected. You’re not complaining. 
You reach into your own bag and pull out your flashlight. You turn it on, and the light flickers dimly. You smack it with your palm a couple times before the light finally goes out, then turn to Joel with a sweet smile on your face. “You wouldn’t happen to have a couple extra–”
“You’re lucky I do,” Joel glares at you as he digs through his belongings to find a couple of double A batteries in his pack. You hold out your hand and he begrudgingly drops the batteries in your palm. “Quit fuckin’ around. Be prepared next time.” He’s certainly jolly today. 
You replace the batteries and turn your flashlight on, and begin to make your way through the bottom level of the mall. Joel’s said nothing since giving you the batteries. 
“So what did you do here? Or, not here specifically. Just like, malls in general,” you ask as you make your way through tables and chairs. A big sign on a nearby wall informs you that this area is called the food court. 
“I did nothing. Malls were always packed with people, way too busy. Too many teenagers. Expensive too,” Joel scrunches his nose as he catches a whiff of something foul at an old hot dog stand. “But other people, they’d come here and shop for clothes, get somethin’ to eat. Could catch a movie f’ya wanted.”
“So where’d you get your clothes from?”
Joel shrugs. “Dunno. Just kinda always had them in my dresser, I guess.”
Sounds like Joel. 
There’s a Panda Express, something called Auntie Anne’s that you and Joel are looking through together. He’s eyeing the cooking equipment and you’re baffled as you stare at a five gallon drum of nacho cheese on the floor.
“That cheese is probably still good,” Joel comments. 
“You’re joking.”
“It ain’t the real cheese like we got back in Jackson. Auntie Anne’s was a pretzel shop, lotta people would dip ‘em in that cheese.”
Auntie Anne’s doesn’t have much to offer, so you and Joel move right along. Next stop is Kentucky Fried Chicken. You point to the man on the logo. “Who’s that?”
“Colonel Sanders. He was the president way back when.”
You know better. “No, he wasn’t.”
“Sure he was,” Joel says. “You weren’t there. You don’t know.”
He’s such a dick. You roll your eyes and leave him and Colonel Sanders to their own devices as you walk through the rest of the food court. 
Joel doesn’t realize you’d left. He tells you another Kentucky Fried Fun Fact and when he’s met with no answer, he looks up to find you at Cinnabon at the end of the food court. 
He makes his way to you then kicks you with his boot. “Didn’t I tell you to stay next to me?”
You ignore his question and ask him your own. “What’s Cinnabon?”
“M’serious,” he says. “No more wanderin’.”
“Yeah, yeah. No wanderin’.” you mock his Southern accent once more. But more importantly, you demand answers. “Tell me about Cinnabon.” 
“They’re just cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon. Bun. S’in the name, genius.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t like those much either, then.”
“Actually, they were pretty good. Big and gooey, covered in icing. You were supposed to split ‘em with someone but I never did.”
“Ah, right. You and your sweet tooth,” You smile. 
“I don’t have a sweet tooth,” Joel lies. “Keep movin’.”
So you do. There’s a lemonade stand here and there, but mostly shops now. A bookstore, jewelry stores. Something called “Wet Seal”. You ask Joel what it is, to which he replies “Fuck if I know.”
A shoe store has piqued Joel’s interest. He’s looking for a new pair of boots as you stare out the window of the shop, wondering who the hell Victoria is and what secret she’s hiding. Joel taps you on the arm to tell you to follow him as he leaves the shoe store.
“What’s Victoria’s Secret?”
“Oh,” Joel says. “Nothin’. We don’t need to go there.”
Oof. Bad move, Joel. Now you have to find out what the deal is with Victoria’s Secret. You take off for the store, ignoring Joel’s orders to stick by his side. “Did she have a secret affair with President Colonel Sanders?”
“No, god dammit. Get back here. We ain’t goin’.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t wanna.”
But you do. So you ignore his bitching and approach the store, stopping when you realize exactly what kind of store it is. “Oh.”
Joel catches up to you. “Mhm,” he mumbles. “S’just underwear. Now c’mon, I’m tired of chasin’ ya.”
“No way,” you argue. “I need new underwear. I’m actually going commando right now, so this is perfect.”
 Joel makes a face like he’s in pain and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Boundaries.”
You don’t believe in TMI. 
You enter the store, entranced by the women in the photos and the black sparkly floor. There’s a big table with panties laid on top, drawers underneath that indicate sizing. You open the drawers with your size and begin sifting through the underwear. All different styles, patterns, colors. Way cuter than the few you have back in Jackson. 
You pick out a few different pairs. Brown with pink polka dots, pink with red roses. Some bikini styles, some boyshorts. You hold up a white pair with lace and a little blue flower sewn on the center of the waistband. “Joel, look! Aren’t these cute?”
“Just adorable,” he mumbles without bothering to actually look. If his voice were any more full of sarcasm he’d choke. Joel keeps his eyes firm on the ground, like he’s being intimidated by the mannequins and their threatening panties. You giggle and he shoots you a warning look. 
You look for a few more pairs, then find a few pairs that look a little different. You hold one up, trying to figure out which side you put your legs through. When you look at the nearly bare-assed woman in the advertisement that reads 5 for $20 above you, you realize how it’s meant to be worn. Oh, you think. Neato. You stuff a few of the thongs in your bag. Could be fun. 
Joel’s still behind you, eyes still focused on the floor, off in his own, prudish little world. You wonder what he’s thinking. There’s a fire engine red thong in the drawer, with sparkles and lace. You know, the works. And you know it’ll be just perfect for a special someone. “Hey, Joel. Found some for you.”
“Not interested.”
You loop the thong over your index finger and pull back with your other hand, then shoot it at Joel like it’s a hair tie. It hits him square on his nose and he catches it in his hand, then throws it on the ground as he pouts. “Alright, enough. You’re done. We’re leavin’.”
You shake your head. “Tommy said I’m in charge.”
Joel groans. “Oh, for the love of god. In charge, my ass.”
You know better than to keep arguing. So you just walk towards the bras, ignoring Joel’s voice in the background telling you to get back here. He hates it when you walk away from him when he’s speaking, so he always follows you so that you hear every last word. It works out, though. You get to do what you want, and Joel gets to give you his stern talking-to. How’s that for a compromise?
The bras are set up similarly to the panties, with different drawers for different sizes. Joel’s still going off about how you never follow orders, how you probably don’t even need any of this, you’re just doing it to get under his skin. And it’s working. Something about how when we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to take me off of patrol with y–
You interrupt. “The fuck?”
“What?”
“What does any of this mean? 30A, 30B, 32A, 34C, 34DD?” You hold up different bras and show him the tags. 
“Those are sizes, sweetheart.” 
“Yeah, I gathered that, thanks. But what’s my size?”
“Why’re ya askin’ me? Just grab one so we can go. Christ almighty.” 
Men. No help at all. 
Surely a store that specializes in bras must have some sort of sizing chart or something. There’s end caps with different beauty products, you stuff a strawberry flavored lipgloss in your pocket as you search. The register might have something, you guess. And lucky you, you’re right. Under the counter are a few measuring tapes and charts. 
Predictable Joel follows you, of course. He says nothing as you read through the instructions. First wrap around your back, under your armpits and just above your bust. That’s your band size. Then do the same with your bust, and subtract the band size from the bust. There’s your A, B, C, D and so on.
You take off your hoodie and stand in just a tank top, no bra. When you said commando, you meant it. Joel watches you as you wrap the measuring tape around yourself. 
“Sweetheart,” Joel interrupts, and he sounds exhausted. “What are you doin’.”
“Making you a Cinnabon, what’s it look like?” you mumble with your chin smushed into your neck as you try to read the numbers on the tape. 
And Joel thought Ellie was annoying. 
You’ve got the measuring tape twisted and tangled behind you, and you don’t even realize it. The inner contractor in Joel can’t bear to watch any more of this fuckery. “Give me that,” he spits, yanking the measuring tape away from your body. “You’re useless.”
Joel looks over the directions for a moment before tapping your arms. You lift up, he wraps the measuring tape properly around your body. There’s a nearby pen and he scribbles the number down, then lowers the measuring tape, his thumbs skating over the clothed flesh of your breasts. Your nipples harden as his fingers brush them accidentally. 
And you thought the thong you shot at Joel was red. It doesn’t even begin to compare to the shade of crimson Joel’s face turns as he realizes what he’s done. Quickly, he drops the measuring tape and writes down the second number and your bra size. “Ther-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat. “There. Go find your bra. Then we’re leavin’, and I’m not arguin’ this time.”
You smirk at his vocal mishap. “Okay. But I have to try them on first.”
“You never make things easy for me, do you?”
Joel follows you as you look for a few different bras in your size. You pick out a few that match your panties, and a few others. There’s a silky black bra with so much memory foam padding that it rivals your pillow at home. Again, perfect for your special someone. 
Joel’s smelling different perfumes when you sidle up to him and lay the bra on his head, the large cups sitting on either side of his scalp. “Mickey Mouse,” you tell him.
Joel glares at you as he removes the bra and drops it on the floor. “You are giving me a fuckin’ aneurysm.” 
You look pleased with yourself, which only makes him more pissed off. But the table next to Joel catches your eye. There’s a pretty satin babydoll dress, with a matching pair of panties. It’s a nice light pink color, with pretty floral lace. “Hmm.” you mumble, thinking to yourself.
Joel watches your eyes leave his face as you become distracted. “What?” he turns his attention toward where your vision is focused. “Oh. Nope. You don’t need that.”
 “Why not?”
“You said you needed underwear. S’lingerie. All them frills and lace…” Joel trails off.
“I think it’d be nice for a date night.”
Joel’s jaw clenches slightly. “I do not envy the poor bastard who takes you home,” he says. He’s probably just annoyed, at his wit’s end with you. Probably not jealous. Definitely not jealous. “But guys don’t give a shit what you’re wearin’, honey. Just wanna get what’s underneath. S’a waste of time.”
You shrug and grab your size in the lingerie anyway. Then you take off towards the dressing rooms to try everything on. You enter the first room on the right, and Joel sits at a bench directly across, just a few feet away from you. 
You try on a couple of bras and feel pleased when they fit and support you. They make the girls sit pretty, too.
You take off the bra and eye the pretty babydoll and its matching bottom. So you try it on, and it’s gorgeous. It frames you nicely, sits right above your ass to show off the panties. You admire yourself in the mirror for a while before deciding you’ll save it for a date night. Fuck what Joel says. Maybe he doesn’t like lingerie, but that doesn’t mean you can’t. 
Things are going smoothly until you try to unhook the babydoll in the back. It’s stuck or something. You fidget with it for a second, accidentally smacking your elbow against one of the dressing room walls in the process. 
“Y’alright in there?” Joel calls out to you.
“Fine, just uh…” You step out of the dressing room. “Need your help with the hook in the back. It’s stuck.”
Joel looks like a deer in the headlights when you stand before him, clad in your pink satin babydoll and matching panties. You leave the changing room door open, Joel stares at your ass on the mirror attached to it. He’s all flustered, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Lord have mercy.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re not a lingerie guy.”
Joel swallows thickly. “I don’t know about that, exactly.”
“No?” You raise an eyebrow. Joel, suddenly a man of few words. How much nicer he is when he’s quiet, you think. “How about you unhook it so I can change?”
“Yeah I could uh…do that.” Joel stands up, then carefully holds the straps of your dress between his fingers. His featherlight touch leaves goosebumps on your shoulders. “Shouldn’t be wearin’ this. It’s very impractical.” 
“I know, Joel. You mentioned that.”
His hands trail lower down the straps, his fingers resting against your skin. “Uh huh. Cheap material…could get torn very easily f’ya aren’t careful.”
And then his fingers are moving up the straps again. He places two hands on your hips and turns you around, fingers skating across your ass cheeks. You feel his body step closer to yours, his hot breath on your neck as he whispers, “M’sure it's not stitched too good. Probably not easy to clean, either.” He catches you off guard when you look at yourself in the mirror. He’s staring intently at the reflection of your body, then his eyes flicker to yours.
“Right,” you agree. 
Joel’s scanning your body again, observing how the fabric falls around your curves just so. He looks hungry, like the moment you peel your eyes from him he’ll devour you.
“Are you gonna take it off of me?” He ignores your question as he pinches the bottom of your babydoll between his fingers, the soft satin tickling your skin as he moves the fabric. “Joel?”
“Yeah, hon. I’m gettin’ there. Be patient f’me, now.” Your stomach flutters at the low timbre of his voice, the way he purrs in your ear. Joel absolutely does not like lingerie. Not one bit, god dammit.
His eyes are darkened with lust as he sucks in a breath, admiring the way your breasts sit beneath the clothing, the way it drapes over your stomach and rests on your hips. One of the straps falls off your shoulder and he clicks his tongue. “See? S’no good.”
“Guess so,” you agree, and he places the strap back on your shoulder, his fingers lingering for a moment too long as he contemplates his next move.
“Closer,” he pulls your hand towards himself, and you step backward. He lets his hands slide down your body over the lingerie and you watch him frown in the mirror, his hands stopping when he reaches the bottom of your dress. “N’it covers up all these pretty curves…” Joel lifts up the fabric, inspecting the craftsmanship of your panties. He takes note of the way they’re darkened beneath your core, sticky with your arousal. “These panties…thin, huh?” He traces a finger delicately over the strap on your hip, pulling it back and snapping on your skin. 
Your breath hitches in your throat. “Joel,” you breathe shakily, “You’re teasing me.”
“M’sorry, darlin’. Just tryna show ya somethin’.” You watch as he trails a finger over your mound, dragging it across the damp cloth and finding your clit over the fabric. He rubs steady circles as he whispers, “See, now look at that. You’re stainin’ em. Makin’ a big fuckin’ mess of yourself.”
You bite back a moan. “Joel, what are you doing?”
“What’s it look like, I’m makin’ a Cinnabon.” Joel mocks you from earlier, but you don’t catch his snide teasing. You’re foggy headed and lost in this moment. “I just said I’m tryna show ya somethin’. Now hush while I’m speakin’.” He pushes your panties to the side, smirking when he feels how soaked your soft folds are as he drags his fingers up and down your slit. Your knees weaken and wobble, and Joel wraps an arm around your waist to guide you back some more. He sits on the bench with you on his lap, tapping a foot in between yours. You spread your legs and your stomach flutters feeling his hardness press against you. You watch him through the mirror as he speaks quietly into your ear, his breath tickling you as two of his thick fingers breach your entrance and push inside. “You said this lil’ number would be nice for a date, right?”
You nod while whimpering, turning your face into his neck. With his other strong hand, he holds your jaw and turns your attention back to the mirror in front of you. “S’matter? Don’t be gettin’ all bashful on me now,” he murmurs.  He’s curling his fingers, swirling them inside you and memorizing every inch of your walls. “Watch how I touch ya.”
You watch his fingers twitch and dance under your pretty pink panties. You peel your eyes away to look at his face, and he’s focused on his hand between your thighs. 
“S’pose it could be nice for a date,” Joel breathes. “You’d wear this, what, under a pretty dress or somethin’?”
You nod again.
“And then when that pretty dress comes off that evenin’, then what happens?”
“I-I dunno, Joel.”
“I know you don’t, sweetheart. I’ll tell you what happens. Your gentleman's gonna take one look at this little getup and rip it right off. Leave it in shreds on the floor and break your poor heart.”
You’re waiting for Joel to do just that. But he doesn’t, he just keeps fingering you under your panties. Two fingers deep inside you, thumb painting circles into your clit. There’s a heat building in your stomach, tickling you from the inside. Joel takes a moment to lift you up, undo his jeans and pull himself out before he begins to rock against you. His head nudges between your cheeks, warm and smooth and hard. How you wish you could see it, hold it in your hand, feel him with your tongue. You squirm against him and find his free arm, hugging it tight to steady yourself on him. Joel chuckles in a low tone.
“But I know you feel pretty,” Joel continues, “M’gonna work around it for ya, baby, but only if you’re good t’me. You know what that means?”
You’re irritated as you shake your head no. Joel’s using his fingers to taunt you, tease you. He knows just how he’s working you up, giving you just enough to keep you squirming but not enough to send you over the edge.
“It means–” Joel pulls his fingers away from your core and you groan. “Shush. Quit your whinin’.” He pushes you up by your hips so he can pull his pants down a little further, then sits you on his lap again, this time with his cock sitting between your folds and your panties pulled as far to the side as he could get them. With his hands still on your hips, he guides you up and down, up and down, coating himself in your arousal. You can just barely make out the shape as his tip rubs against your clit. He continues, “Means no more wanderin’,” he pulls the top of the babydoll down and watches your tits fall out, his both hands leaving your hips and sliding up to play with your breasts. “Y’come prepared for patrol,” he notches his stiff cock at your dripping entrance, “And I’m in charge. Not you. We clear?”
You nod. You’re not sure how he did it, but with Joel’s teasing, he’s seemingly melted away every bit of attitude in you.
“Good girl. Now don’t say I don’t do nothin’ for ya.”
With that, he thrusts up into you, parting your insides. You watch his cock disappear inside of you before throwing your head back on his shoulder with a moan. Joel smirks before using a firm yet gentle hand to guide your head back where he wants it. “Watch,” he coos, reminding you. “You’re pretty like this.”
Joel uses his hands on your hips to bounce you on his cock, then lets them glide up your body. He palms your breasts, squeezing and watching your flesh move and bulge under his fingers. He gropes you a couple of times while pinching and twisting your nipples, enjoying the way your moans change pitch with the action. 
While Joel plays with your nipples, you ride him. Your thighs ache and tremble, knees shaking. You bounce yourself on him a little longer before letting yourself go limp. 
Joel takes the hint, drops his hands to your hips and picks up where you left off. You lean back and let him do his thing. “Gonna make me do all the work for ya, huh?”
You say nothing, just let those sweet sounds fall from your lips as he fucks you. You reach between your thighs and touch what you can of him, unsatisfied with the way you didn’t get to before. Joel makes a noise, seemingly enjoying it.
He kneads your ass as he uses his strong arms to move you up and down, snapping his hips against yours. “Fuck,” he hisses. He lets out breathy sounds, grunts and growls tickling your ear and making the hair on your neck stand straight up. He’s sweating, soaking through his shirt and making your back feel damp. You’ll take what you can get of Joel right now, but you’re wishing you could see him better. Feel him more, his skin, watch his muscles twitch under you. Or above you. You don’t have a preference at the moment.
“Joel,” you moan. “Oh, Joel.”
He smirks, pleased with the noises you make. Pleased with your lack of words, your lack of attitude. How docile for him you are. He would have fucked you long ago if he knew you’d be like this. So well behaved. 
He turns his face into your neck and bites down. Hard. He soothes the marks over with his tongue, whispering nothings into your skin. You find your clit with your hand and begin circling it while Joel fucks into you. You think you have the right. Joel, however, disagrees.
“Hey,” he smacks your hand away. “What’d we talk about? Who’s in charge?” You move your hand between your thighs again, and Joel circles your wrist with his fingers and holds it away from you. “I asked you a question.”
“You are, Joel,” you breathe. 
“S’right. Means I take care of ya,” In the mirror, you watch Joel let go of your wrist and find your clit himself. “Thought you’d know better. Just sit pretty. S’all ya gotta do.”
“Joel,” you whisper, “Let me come,” 
“What’s the magic word, hon?”
“Please,” you beg. “Please. Make me come for you, I want–I wanna come on your cock, please. Please, Joel.”
“Wrong,”
You huff, exasperated and frustrated. 
 “It’s Cinnabon.”
Joel shifts himself on the bench, finding the perfect angle. He continues fucking you, effortlessly finding that sweet spot inside you. He pulls back the hood of your clit, fingers painting the sensitive nub as he begins his work. Your thighs tremble and shake, he keeps you pressed tight to his chest. 
He’s magic. You’re moaning with abandon, eyes darting between the picture between your thighs and his face, and he’s playing with you like he owns you. 
“Right there,” you tell him. “Right there, Joel.”
Soon enough, your moans become breathier and broken, spread out between a medley of curse words and Joel’s name. 
“Yeah,” he says. “Look at you, comin’ so nice on my cock.”
You squeeze Joel’s working arm as you come, nails digging into his hot skin, feeling his tendons and muscles twitch under your fingertips. Your walls pulse and contract with your orgasm, the pleasure built up deep inside you spilling over and coursing through your veins. 
You’re limp against Joel, letting him use you as he chases his own release. He sits you straight up, bounces you harshly for a moment before breathing through his gritted teeth. You pull your attention from the mirror in front of you and focus your vision on your lap, watching as he comes inside you. Watching yourself soak his cock. He keeps you moving, his spend spilling out of you and over your pink panties. 
Joel pulls your body off of him and sits you back down. His spend continues dripping out of you, spilling onto the bench. He gets your clothes out of the dressing room and places them next to you, then stands you up and unclips your babydoll dress in the back. You forgot about that. But he did say he was getting to it, after all. 
He pulls the garment off of you, then helps you out of your stained panties. He helps you into a new pair of panties, the white pair with the little blue flower on the waistband. “So you’re not goin’ commando anymore,” he says. Then he dresses you in one of your new bras, your shirt and your pants. The lingerie lays crumpled on the floor. 
“So you still don’t like lingerie?” you ask.
Joel shrugs. “Keep it. I don’t care,” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You tried your shit on, we’re leavin’.”
That’s fine by you. Next stop is Bath and Body Works. You spotted it earlier, and you actually know what that store is. You’re low on body sprays and you’re gonna make Joel help you pick out some new ones, even if you have to drag him kicking and screaming. 
‘Cause Tommy said you’re in charge. 
Part two here
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5oh5 · 5 months
Text
honeysuckle
or, joel washes you in the shower after an autumn hike
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fall is so joel coded isn't it
pairing: no outbreak!joel x f!reader
rating: explicit (18+, MDNI)
cw: soft!joel and soft!dom!joel, a little bit of botany, checkin’ for ticks (yeah I went there), joel’s “fuckin’ knees”, essentially PWP, sweat kink if you squint (don’t look at me), praise mostly with a sprinkling of soft degradation, pet names (angel, baby, darlin’, one use of slut, good girl, sweet girl, etc.), fingering, squirting (told you not to look at me), cum eating kinda? (eek), aftercare (i.e. gratuitous descriptions of joel washing you in the shower), I really don’t want to discuss the amount of times I talk about his fingers and hands in this okay leave me be
wc: 3.4k
a/n: first go at smut, so hopefully y'all like it! I'm sure it won't be my last. I just want soft joel for myself okayyyy
beta read by my amazing and talented bestie @adamantiumspy and also by the endlessly lovely and sweet @booburry 🫶🏻
banner is from @saradika!
read on AO3 | masterlist
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The afternoon sun is warm on your face, the breeze still cool. There aren’t many clouds, only white brush strokes of high cirrus feathered across the bright blue sky. The trees filter the sun, dapples of soft golden light dancing on the forest floor.
You had one of Joel’s flannels over your long-sleeve shirt. You always wore something of his these days…his hat, his flannel. You wanted to be surrounded by him all the time. His scent, the feeling of the soft fabric against your skin after it had been on his.
“We’re almost there, Joel,” you smile, looking at him over your shoulder. You’re going uphill, and he pops his leg up on a tree root and looks up at you. 
“I’m comin’, angel,” he smiles earnestly, his big brown eyes gazing up at you, crinkling at the edges. “If it weren’t for these damn knees.”
You close the gap between you and take his face in your hands. “I’ll kiss them all better when we get home.” 
He chuckles. “I’mma hold you to that, darlin’.”
Together you crest the hill and the trees clear, opening up to a sprawling view of the land below you. 
“Wow,” Joel says as he walks up behind you, snaking his hands around your middle and pressing his chest to your back. He leans his head against yours.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” You say, gazing out past the trees, watching the sunlight bathe the hills. Oranges and reds and yellows blaze over the hillside, the leaves turning.
“Mmm.” Joel replies, placing a soft kiss in your hair. “Thanks for bringing me here, baby.”
This was one of your favorite spots, one of your favorite hikes. You came out here a lot, especially in weather like this. The walk was relatively short, the view at the top making up for the climb uphill. 
“We’ll have to come out here again in the spring,” you say, lacing your fingers through his as they press against your belly. “I love coming out to look for spring ephemerals.”
“What’re those?” he asks, leaning around to give a soft kiss on your cheek.
“The wildflowers…in the spring. They don’t bloom for long, so they’re called ephemerals. Here…and then gone again.” You smile softly. “But these leaves are pretty spectacular too.”  
“They are.” His voice is quiet, as if he is being careful not to disturb the trees, the birds.
You lean back into him, leaning your head against his shoulder. Joel’s arms wrapped around you, surrounded by beautiful things…you feel like you could stay here forever. You take a deep breath of crisp fall air.
This is home.
---
“Thanks for coming with me, Joel,” you say as you pull off your boots, untuck your pants from your socks. The sun is setting, pouring light through the windows.
“A’course, baby. It’s good to get out n’ movin’.” He shrugs off his jacket, slinging it over the back of the armchair. 
“C’mere,” he says then, and you turn to look at him. He looks so cute, his hair slightly messed from the wind, his soft sweatshirt hugging his chest, his arms. “Lemme check you for ticks.”
“Is that a line?” you ask, smirking.
“Darlin’, I wouldn’t joke about Lyme Disease.” he smirks, but the glint in his eyes betrays him.
“Is that so?” you coo.
“Mmm.” he says, looping his fingers through your belt loops, pulling you towards him.
You can’t help but smile as he brings his lips to yours.
“Well…” you start, pulling your mouth away from his.
“Yes, angel?” he mutters, kissing down your chin to the column of your throat.
“We have been outside a while…” you continue, trying to focus on getting your words out as his tongue finds your pulse point.
“Maybe we need a shower,” you say, smiling as he chuckles darkly against your skin.
“Well,” he kisses and licks his way back to your mouth, “you know…” and he’s headed the other way, moving back down your jaw, down your neck. “For the ticks.”
“Yeah,” you sigh. You can barely breathe. “For the ticks.”
He’s steering you then, pushing on your hips gently to move you backwards towards the bedroom. All the while his mouth is on yours, licking into your mouth and biting gently on your lips. You can’t help but moan softly into his kisses. 
Once he has you in the bathroom, he steps back and rakes his eyes over you. “Look so pretty in my shirt, baby,” he sighs, fingers ghosting down your arms. “But I’m afraid it’s gotta go.”
He skates his hands under the collar of the flannel, pushing it off your shoulders and onto the floor. His featherlight touch raises your shirt over your tummy, and you obediently raise your arms for him to pull it off the rest of the way. He does the same with your sports bra. It feels heavenly to have it off. Your pants are next, and he unbuttons them before sliding them down your legs, pushing your underwear with them. He squats down in front of you, his knees cracking. He places your hand on his shoulder, for balance. He taps your right leg, and you step it out of your pants and undies. He taps the left, and you do the same. He guides your foot to his knee, and you place it there so he can pull your sock off. He does the same on the other side. 
He looks up at you, and you think you could keel over at the sight of his full, dark eyes gazing up at you through his eyelashes. His curls are falling in front of his forehead, and you reach down to run your hands through his hair. He leans into your touch.
Before standing, he places two soft kisses to the inside of your thigh. “You’re so beautiful,” he says between each one.
You offer him your hand, and he takes it to pull himself back up. “Fuckin’ knees,” he grumbles again. You take that as your cue.
“You look so pretty in your shirt too, baby,” you smile, mimicking his earlier words to you. “But I’m afraid it’s also gotta go.” 
He chuckles lightly, but his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. The setting sun is casting bright golden light through the blinds in your room, spilling across the carpet and onto the tile in the ensuite bathroom. The light glows between the strands of Joel’s hair.
You push your hands up under his sweatshirt and t-shirt, palms flattening against the warmth of his skin, the softness of his tummy. He smirks before raising his arms, and you pull his clothes up over his head. You place a soft kiss on his chest while his head is still concealed in his shirt. When his arms are free, his hands are on you. He wraps an arm around your back, pulling you into him. 
You snake your arm down between your bodies, and begin unfastening his belt. You pull it through the belt loops, and let it fall to the floor with a clink. You try and snake your other hand down as well to help you undo the button on his pants, but he’s holding you too close, his mouth all over your neck, licking and kissing across your shoulders. 
You laugh. “Jo-oel, lemme get your pants,” you whine. 
“Don’t whine, darlin’,” a wicked smile dances on his lips as he releases his grip, allowing you to dip between you to his waistband. “You know how to ask nicely.” 
You already have what you want, but you look up at him and sigh. 
“Ple-e-ease, Joel?” you exaggerate the word, knowing how much it affects him. Pure lust flickers in his eyes, and he brings his hand to cup your face, swiping his thumb roughly over your cheekbone. 
“That’s a good girl.” 
He looks down at you intently as you undo the button, drag the zipper down. It’s no secret how much he wants you, cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You hook your thumbs under the elastic of his boxers, pushing everything down his hips in one push. You follow his pants down his legs, kneeling in front of him. It’s your turn to tap his leg, prompting him to step out of his jeans. You pull his socks off, his hand on your shoulder now to steady himself.
You place soft kisses on his knees, fully aware of his cock hanging heavy above your head. 
“Sweet girl,” he breathes, “so good at keeping her promises.”
This is home, too.
He pulls you up by your arm and pulls you towards the shower. He reaches in and turns on the water, and then his lips are on you again. He bites and kisses his way from your lips down your jaw, down your throat, taking one of your breasts in his hand and palming it roughly. He brings his mouth to the other, closing his lips around your nipple and swirling his tongue. He lets it go with a pop, then blows a cool stream of air over your wet nipple, and you shudder.
“Mmm,” he sighs as he straightens up. “Gotta check ya.” 
You smile up at him, and he ghosts his fingertips up your tummy and between your breasts.
“I know there aren’t any here,” he smirks as his fingertips graze across the skin, and you shudder. “Checked already.”
“Turn for me,” he says, and you do. You’ll do anything he asks of you when he has you like this.
You turn wordlessly, and he hums contentedly when your back is to him. You can see in the mirror now, and you watch his face as his eyes rake over your back. He squats down behind you, and he disappears from the view in the mirror. You swing your arm around to find him, pushing your fingers into his curls. 
“Mmm,” he hums again, and you feel his fingers graze up your leg, starting at your ankle. “Looks good to me.” His voice is low and syrupy. When his fingers reach the crease where your ass meets your leg, he grabs hold of your thigh roughly, taking as much of the skin in his hand as he can. His thumb grazes the skin there gently before he leans in and sinks his teeth into the soft plush of your ass. In your surprise, you yelp and instinctively grab a fistfull of his hair. He groans.
“This is the only view I care about,” he murmurs as he soothes the skin with his tongue. You chuckle as you turn over your shoulder to look at him, and god, you could die at that view. Your fingers knotted in his hair, his perfect lips inches from your ass, his deep brown eyes taking you in through his lashes, blazing with desire. He places a soft kiss on your skin again before he stands.
The water has been hot for a few minutes now, and the bathroom is filling with tendrils of steam. You’re not sure if you’re sweating from the humidity or from him, and when you turn to face him, you see you’re not the only one. A slight glimmer of sweat sparkles at the base of his neck, flush painting his skin, and you can’t help yourself. You lean into him, slide your hands across his sides, and lick the skin there as he throws his head back. You place wet, open mouth kisses across the base of his neck, and he tastes like sweat, like love, like lust, like Joel.
When he speaks, you feel the buzz of his voice in his throat against your lips. “Wastin’ water, sweetheart.”
You pull back enough to say, “oh, well, if you want to stop…”
He grabs your waist roughly, fingertips digging into your soft skin. He throws back the shower curtain and pulls you in with him. The hot water rains down on you, and you smirk into his shoulder. 
He growls against your ear. “Definitely didn’t fucking say that.”
His lips are on yours then, powerful, desperate, all consuming. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s kissed you, how many times he’s fucked you. Every single time feels like the first, like he’s been waiting, dreaming, craving the moment he gets you to himself again. Once he does, he takes and takes and takes, but it’s the kind of taking that feels like giving, like sacrificing, like leaving something at your altar. 
“Please, Joel,” your hand is around the back of his neck, wet curls twisting around your fingers. You moan into his mouth, desperate for him to touch you where you need him most. Your belly is on fire, the aching in your cunt spreading a wet heat through your veins.
“Please what, angel?” he kisses his way to your ear, one hand bracing himself against the shower wall, the other dancing on your arm. The tile is cool on your skin.
The desperate whine that comes from your lips surprises even you. “Please fuck me, Joel.”
“Askin’ so nicely again for me, aren’t ya?” He ghosts his fingers down your arm, onto the softness of your tummy. He starts drifting his fingers further down, but when he hits the curls at your center, he diverts his touch to your thigh. You let out a frustrated groan.
“Yes, Joel, please,” you beg again, but when you search his eyes for mercy, you see only playful dominance. 
“My sweet girl is so good,” he says, and then his fingers are there, swiping through your folds gently as you part your legs for him. He’s feeling, sensing, gauging. Testing how wet you are for him.
“You’re dripping for me, sweetheart,” he observes, and you could have told him that.
“S’all for you, Joel,” you whine at the sensation of his fingertips parting you, soft silk against his calloused fingers.
Sensing that you’re wet enough to take it, he lines two fingers up at your entrance before thrusting them up into you, directly against the front wall of your cunt, making you gasp and let out a depraved moan.
His restraint wavers ever so slightly at the sound you make, the way you wrap around him, and you see it in his eyes as he watches you come apart on his fingers. 
“I know it is, baby. My pretty little slut is always so wet for me.”
He’s quick to wrap an arm around your waist to help hold your weight, your legs turning to jello at the harshness of his movements, your muscles already wobbly from the hike. All you can do is moan into his shoulder as he holds you close and fucks you. He thrusts his fingers in and out, the sound of your soaking wet pussy echoing off the shower walls. He slides them out of you completely and you groan at the loss, but he’s quick to wet another finger in your slick and push all three back into you. 
The sound you make is nearly inhuman, or perhaps it’s the most human. 
He curves them ever so slightly, and his movements become faster, more desperate, as he slams the top wall of your cunt against his fingertips with every pull. A fresh wave of pleasure courses through you at the change in movement, and it’s a familiar one. You consciously relax your muscles, letting him support your weight. You know what he wants from you.
“Come on, baby,” he coos, his words coming out as breaths with the effort. That sweat is back on his neck, his curls sticking to his forehead. It’s hot, humid, you can barely breathe. He is everywhere. As much as he knows you want it, he ignores your clit on purpose. He knows what you need.
You let it take over you, focusing on nothing but the searing heat of hurling towards the precipice. Your mind relaxes, everything fades except for him, except for the ecstasy surging through your body, the pressure of his fingers against that spot.
Then, like falling into the water, like diving off the edge, like crying: the feeling of letting go. Everything goes black as you gush around his fingers, soaking his already wet arm, his soft tummy, his thigh. You don’t know what sound you make, don’t hear what he says. Instead, your mind takes a reprieve, a temporary vacation, leaving your body as the only tether to this planet. You laugh. You can’t help it. Tears stream down your cheeks. He stills his fingers inside you, leaving them there but pulling you tighter into him. You are vaguely aware of letting your head fall into the crook of his neck. 
“Breathe, baby.” His voice begins to penetrate the fog. You take a breath for him. 
“That’s it,” he praises. “Did so fucking good for me, angel.”
You start to come back to him, his voice pulling you back to Earth. The sound of the water re-registers in your ears. You feel his skin against yours again, feel his thick fingers still buried in your cunt.
You let out a soft moan as he drags them out of you, and he brings them to his mouth. You tear your face out from his neck to watch him taste you. He groans as he takes two of his fingers in his mouth, and his cock twitches against your tummy. The third he saves for you.
“Best thing in the fucking world,” he mutters, if only to himself. You stare shamelessly at the way his perfect lips close around his fingers, and the sight sends electricity straight back to your cunt. You feel insatiable with him.
He pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a pop, and his eyes are on your mouth then as he brings them to yours. You open obediently, finding strength enough to put some weight back on your legs. He pushes all three fingers past your lips, the combined taste of the two of you swirling against your tongue. He groans at that sight too, your mouth full of him. One of his favorite ways to have you. 
You know he’s throbbing, aching for your touch, but his eyes never leave you, his mind transfixed on your pleasure and nothing else. You know if you reached for his cock, he would swat your hand away.
“Mmmm,” he sighs as he feels your tongue swirl around his fingers. “My perfect girl.”
He pulls them from your mouth, and you pout your lip at the loss. “Want you, Joel.” 
“I know, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up first, okay?” He soothes, steadying you on your feet before reaching for the washcloth. He grabs the body wash, drizzling the purple liquid over the cloth, the soft smell of lavender and honeysuckle swirling into the steam. 
You briefly think that the instant hot water heater he installed in your home a few weeks ago was the best idea he’s ever had. Well, almost the best idea. 
He takes your hand in his and guides your arm up, working the soap into your skin. He scrubs lightly over your arm and across your chest, lightly pinching your nipples through the washcloth, smirking as you groan, your body still wired. He washes down your belly, then up to your other arm and down to your fingertips. He squats down, brings the cloth to your thighs, the suds washing away the remnants of your orgasm. He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your clit, and you jerk into him. He smirks, nose nestled in your curls.
He stands, gently turns you around, and when he swirls the washcloth over your back, you sigh. It feels so good. He squats again to wash over your ass, down the backs of your thighs. He brings his hand between your legs, and with a gentle touch, washes you there too. Even that feels like too much, and not enough.
Even with the gentle sweet smell of the soap, you can only smell him on your skin.
---
By the time the moon is high in the sky and the breeze through the window erupts goosebumps on your arms, Joel has had you in every way he can. You can barely keep your eyes open as you nestle into his chest, his hand tracing calming circles on the cool skin of your arm. Your body is exhausted from the hike, from him. He’s tired too, joints aching, but he would do it all again if you asked.
“I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss into your hair. 
“I love you too, Joel,” you murmur into his skin. He chuckles softly, and in that laugh you hear everything. You hear the fall breeze, the crescent moon, the falling of yellow leaves, the wildflowers. In his laugh, the universe.
Everywhere with Joel is home.
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swiftispunk · 1 year
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what i need | joel miller x fem!reader
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pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader
summary: reader has a bad day, joel gives you what you need. you know, uh, fuck it, joel miller knife play. gif source.
rating: 18+ (no minors please)
word count: 3.4k
warnings etc: filthy smut, knife play, soft dom!joel, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), choking, orgasm delay, mild cumplay, unprotected p in v sex, face slapping, pet names, established relationship. no direct reference to reader age, joel is canon age (50s). NO USE OF Y/N.
A/N: i'm a simple woman. i see joel miller with a switchblade and go absolutely feral. posting this total sin-fest while i work on some longer-form stuff, including a few requests.
Most days you can make it through a full 24 hours without caving in.
Most days you can go about your business, forgetting that the world ended, that everyone you ever knew or ever would know is dead.
Most days have gotten easier since you settled in Jackson with Joel.
But today is not most days.
Today, Joel's out on a supply run and Ellie's out at a movie, which gives you no choice but to be left alone with your thoughts. Sleep would only bring nightmares and you feel too detached to actually leave the house and do something.
So instead you pine hopelessly in a wooden chair that had come with the house, staring out of your bedroom window until day turns to night, waiting desperately for Joel to come home.
Joel, who could always numb your fears and quiet your agony. Joel, who always knows what you need to take your mind off the grim reality of your existence.
He knows, you think, because he needs it too.
He finds you in that same spot in front of the window when he arrives, long after dark. You smile softly at him when his silhouette emerges in the bedroom door, breathing in the relief of seeing him home safe.
“Fuckin’ shitshow out there today," he grumbles as he shrugs off his jacket and boots. "Stray clicker nearly got Tommy, got so close I had to knife it just to get it off us.”
“Are you hurt?” you ask, panic flaring, as you eye him up and down, looking for damage. You hear how distant your voice sounds though, and you think Joel hears it too.
“M’fine," he assures you, crossing the room to press a kiss to your forehead. "Ellie still out?"
"Late movie, I guess." The flat tone of your voice is unmissable now. Joel catches it naturally.
"Didn’t think you’d still be up," he says softly, soothing despite his gravelly timbre.
“Couldn’t sleep. One of those days."
“You wanna…talk about it?” he asks, already guessing the answer.
“No.”
Joel hears the insinuation in your voice; this is nothing new. He wraps his arms around you from behind, his broad form towering over your, his grip locking you in place. You sigh in tandem, Joel easily picking up on your energy, and vice versa. You can feel the stress of his day in the way his arms serpent around you fiercely. If a clicker had gotten that close, that meant he'd lost control.
You ache to give it back to him.
“What do you need, darlin’?” he leans in to whisper in your ear, but he already knows.
So you stand to face him full on, with his arms still vice gripped around you, so tight you may as well be his prisoner. Joel watches you carefully as you manage to reach into his front pocket and retrieve the switchblade you know he keeps there. It wouldn't have been the one he'd used to kill the clicker; that'll have been the knife he'd unholstered when he'd first come through the door.
Still, you hold it up between your bodies.
“You stabbed a clicker?" you inquire brazenly, looking up at Joel through your lashes. "How did you do it? Show me.”
You see a muscle flex in his jaw as he ponders your request. You watch as something shifts behind his eyes the moment he decides to grant it.
Never loosening the tight grip he has around you, he snatches the knife from your hand and you flinch when he clicks it to life, the shiny blade glowing in the dim light of your bedroom, just inches from your face.
“Sliced its neck..." he begins, voice low and dangerous.
Meticulously, his eyes never leaving yours, Joel angles the blade so it ghosts just over your throat "…right here."
“Did-did that kill it?”
Joel grins at how breathless you sound, how little it takes.
“Not quite," he continues. He glides the tip of the blade down your neck so it hovers just between your breasts. "Put it in its chest, right here."
He punctuates the word with just the faintest pressure, enough that you can feel the sharp point of the blade on your skin through the thin fabric of your camisole. You stay perfectly still as he slowly follows the same line he drew before back up your neck, along your jaw and up to your temple.
"Finished it like this." He holds the blade there, the tip pressed feather light over your temple, a threat that would feel very real if it was anyone other Joel holding the knife.
“Sounds scary," you manage to choke out, heart racing and heat rising inside you.
"You scared, sweetheart?" he hums, clutching the blade tighter so you can see the veins in his knuckles straining around the handle in your periphery.
You shake your head no. Not scared, never of him. Joel's the only person left you trust. That's why he's the only one who can treat you like this.
"Bed," he orders you then, his eyes turning an even darker shade of brown as he lets you go, knife still in hand.
You sit obediently on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently as Joel strips off his shirt but stays otherwise clothed. You don't bother removing any of your own clothes yet because -
"You're gonna listen to me now, you hear me, sweetheart? Just me."
It's what you've been waiting for. To give control over to him. To submit and forget, finally.
"Yes, Joel," you swear.
He approaches you unhurriedly, reaching out to clasp his calloused hand under your jaw, angling your face upwards so you're forced to look at him.
"Clothes, darlin'," he commands you then.
You obey without hesitation, removing your shorts and panties swiftly. He watches you carefully as you hook your fingers under your tank top and then Joel suddenly stops you.
"Not that," he says, like he's just thought of something. "Keep the shirt on."
You look up at him, confusion written all over your face. Joel always liked you completely naked for him, and you welcomed it. Surrendering to him meant being totally exposed to him.
Before you can think too much about it, Joel is hovering over you, wielding the blade in a manner almost menacing. You watch with bated breath as he carefully hooks the blade under the neckline of your tank top, just above your breasts. You gasp when, with expert maneuvering, he slices through the fabric with ease, right through centre, wrecking the old shirt and revealing your bare chest beneath.
Joel seems momentarily amazed at his own handiwork, a triumphant smile playing at the corners of his lips and his cock hardening in his jeans.
"You scared now?" he implores again.
You're a lot of things at that moment but scared isn't one of them. You shake your head.
"You can talk, babygirl," Joel grants you gently.
"N-not scared," you choke breathlessly, but your eyes dart to the knife still clenched in Joel's hands, giving you away.
Joel catches it.
"Don't look at that," he chides you sternly. "You look at me."
You will yourself to look into his smoldering eyes as he trails the blade over your bare chest, delicately circling the tip around each of your nipples at a pernicious pace. You can feel how wet his careful movements are making you, but you don't dare risk touching yourself. Not until Joel says.
Your mouth falls open as he begins to trace the blade over your stomach, and you can't stop yourself from looking down at it when he hovers the tip just over your desperate cunt.
"Eyes, baby," he reminds you. "Right here."
To be sure, he holds your face steady with his other hand, cupping your jaw and letting his thumb trail over your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open even more. Out of habit, you take the tip of his digit into your mouth, never unlocking your gaze from his even when you feel him glide the edge of the blade lightly along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
"Goddamn," he breathes. "Look at you, pretty girl."
You can't wait anymore.
"Joel," you finally beg weakly.
"What, sweetheart? You tell me what you want."
Your brain feels like it's turned to mush, arousal overtaking any of the dread that had plagued you before he'd come home. Before he'd started driving you wild with desire. You fight to find your words, to remember what it is you need right now.
"Can I - your dick, Joel - can I suck your dick?"
Joel tuts, grip tightening on your jaw as he looks down at you disapprovingly.
"Try again," he instructs.
Shit.
"Please," you amend pathetically.
"There's my good girl." The praise has your heart flying and your cunt dripping. "Course you can have it, sweetheart."
He lets go of your face so you can position yourself on your knees before him. You watch with cautious wonder as he takes your two hands in his, placing the handle of the knife inside them. He methodically positions them so you're holding the blade with both hands between your tits.
"You hold that right there," he orders you. "You hold that right there when you're suckin' my cock."
You wait patiently as Joel strips out of his jeans and boxers, freeing his thick cock, hard and visibly dripping pre-come. You whimper at the sight of him stroking it a few times over you, and can only imagine how you must look to him, on your knees in front of him, wet cunt throbbing with the switchblade clutched to your chest.
Joel sees you staring at his cock, and for what feels like the hundredth time, grabs your face with his hand to tilt your face up back to meet his gaze.
"Eyes here, sweetheart, m’not gonna tell ya again," he growls and it sounds like a genuine threat to your ears. You nod obediently, keeping your eyes on his as you open your mouth wide for him, unabatingly waiting again for him to give you what you need.
He's tortuous with it, of course, holding his cock by the base as he guides it slowly into your mouth, just the tip. You don't dare close your lips around it, keeping your jaw slack as he pushes forward and further into you, till he's hitting the back of your throat and tears are sprouting at the corners of your eyes.
He pulls out then and repeats the motion, faster now, and harder, his cock taking up your whole mouth, making it hard to breathe. You splutter when he fucks into your mouth for the third time, holding the back of your head steady so you can't move, forced to hold him there.
He groans when he pulls you off him, and you gasp for air, your spit trailing down his cock and onto your chin.
"Fuck, darlin', that's so good," he praises you gruffly. "You like chokin' on my cock?"
You nod, because it's true.
"I know you do," he smiles. "You can suck now, baby."
Finally. He loosens his grip in your hair, granting you the freedom to please him how you want to.
Blade still clutched to your chest, you eagerly duck forward to take him in your mouth once more, this time closing your lips around it properly, tasting his salty pre-come and masculine musk. You lick expertly along the base, bobbing on his cock, up and down, with unrestrained enthusiasm. You try your best to keep your eyes on him as you do, but even Joel seems to be having a hard time staying focused as you work on his cock, throwing his head back and losing his breath when you suck hungrily over the tip.
He growls then and his hands are back in your hair, pulling you off him completely. He reaches between you to snatch the blade back from you, a new urgency to his motions.
"You can lie back on the bed now, pretty girl," he says, voice dripping with arousal and sending sparks flying to your core.
You do as he says, laying back on the bed as Joel hovers over you, blade in hand. You can feel his hard length against your thigh, his broad chest housing you in like a solid canopy so you feel covered in him, simultaneously protected and electrified by the strong man wielding a blade over your naked body.
"Joel...," you moan when he leans down to run his lips and teeth over your jaw ravenously.
"Use your words, sweetheart, come on now," he whispers hotly in your ear in that same disapproving tone.
"Please can I touch myself?" you plead, neediness reaching a fever pitch as your neglected cunt drips onto the sheets beneath you.
But this is all part of the deal. Joel wants you to beg, and surreptitiously (or not), you want him to say no.
"Not just yet, babygirl."
Your breath stutters, even though you'd expected his response, and a desperate, whiney sound escapes you that has Joel gently brushing his fingers across your face comfortingly.
"I know, baby, I know. You're bein' so patient, though. Such a good girl for me."
His words are enough to make your pussy swell but then he's gliding his free palm over your tits, pinching lightly at your nipples and causing you to moan loudly as you rut your hips up into nothing, searching in vain for some contact on your aching cunt.
Joel hoists himself up on his elbows then, very carefully positioning the blade he's still holding at your throat, ghosting it over the tender flesh there, while his other hand slides, at long last, between your legs.
"Fuck fuck fuck," you're stammering from just the feeling of his palm resting over your folds.
Joel smiles alluringly, his eyes meeting yours in wonder.
“So wet, sweetheart," he notes, fascinated. "Barely even touched you yet.”
Knife still at your throat, he pointedly avoids your clit, skipping right over it to slowly insert one finger inside you.
"Holy shit," you gasp, back arching off the mattress. Joel, prepared for it, is protectively aware of the blade, adjusting its placement expertly as you begin to squirm under his touch.
"Stay still, sweetheart, I got a knife at your neck here," he warns you even though you both know he’d never let anything actually happen, just says it for the sake of adding a new challenge for you, forcing you to stay rigid even as he adds a second finger, fucking them in and out of you in earnest.
But it's not enough.
"Please, Joel, will you touch my clit?" you beg meekly.
Joel dips to kiss behind your ear again, fingers still fucking you incessantly.
"F'I do that, are you gonna come?" he asks you huskily, his hot breath at your ear making your head spin.
"Yes," you admit.
He removes his fingers from you entirely then. You could cry at the loss.
"Why don't you come sit on my dick instead?"
A breath leaves your lungs in one quick exhale.
"Yes, Joel.”
You shakily reposition yourself so you're straddling his lap, and Joel holds your hips steady as you angle yourself over his cock, locking his gaze with yours when he lowers you down onto him.
You both moan in harmony then, Joel's cock stretching you open, your soaked cunt drenching his length.
It feels so fucking good to finally have him inside you that you forget to move.
“Ride it, baby," Joel commands you, bemusedly recognizing that you seem to need a reminder. With a feeble whimper, you begin to move your hips on top of him, holding yourself steady with your hands against his broad chest.
"Fuck, yes, darlin'," Joel groans through gritted teeth. "You look so good takin’ my cock like that.”
You try to hold his eyes but you can't help it, your head falls back at the feeling of his cock filling you up, his belly nudging at your neglected clit, bringing you to the edge he's been denying you for so long now.
“Joel - fuck - I’m -,”
Joel reaches around you to hold you steady with his hands on your back, his grip at the nape of your neck forcing your eyes back on his.
“You talk to me, sweetheart," he orders you flatly.
“I can’t - I’m gonna come, Joel.”
“Not till I say.”
You go still and he's fucking up into you then, holding you firmly against him, nowhere to go. His hand in your hair pulls the strands too tightly - it hurts - but it just makes the heat in your core burn even hotter and you can't hold it in -
“Not till I say, you hear me?” Joel grunts, sensing you getting close. It's all you can do just to nod and try, try, try not to come.
“M’gonna come inside that pretty pussy first, then I’ll let you come, okay?” Joel says, voice ragged and thrusts growing increasingly faster up into you.
“Yes, yes, Joel," you cry. "Come inside me, please.”
Without pulling out, Joel flips you both over so he's caging you in under him, pulling your hips into his and fucking into you relentlessly. He notices the blade on the bedsheets then, long forgotten now. He takes your hand in his, and clasps your fingers and his around the handle of the blade, so you're gripping it together against the sheets as Joel pounds his cock into you ferociously.
You can't stop yourself, you turn your head ever so slightly to take in the sight of your conjoined hands around the blade.
Too far gone to scold you properly, Joel uses his free hand to gently but assuredly slap your cheek, gripping your jaw and making you look at him.
He'd said he wouldn't tell you again.
He keeps fucking you like that, one hand on your jaw and the other around the blade in your hand, his soft grunts a tantalizing symphony, and you're so close to the edge you could weep, trying to contain yourself like he'd asked. To obey him.
“Fuck, you want my come, sweetheart?" he snarls as his as his own climax approaches. "Gonna fill this pussy up.”
“Please, Joel, please," is all you can muster.
He moves the hand on your jaw to coil his fingers securely around your throat, and you have to fight to stop your eyes from rolling back into your head.
And it's a good thing you do because you get to watch his face go slack the moment he comes inside you with a noisy groan, his hot come filling you up and igniting a fresh wave of ecstasy deep in your core. You want to come with him, you want to come now -
You have to wait.
Joel slowly pulls out, and you feel his come dripping out of you and onto the sheets. Still breathing heavily, Joel moves his hand back over your cunt, finally letting his fingers circle over your clit, eliciting a raucous cry from you.
You know it won't take much, but you can't - not until Joel tells you.
Joel pauses his motions and you whimper in frustration, pussy aching with the need to finish.
"You want it, sweetheart?" he breathes raggedly into the skin of your neck.
"Please, Joel, pleasepleaseplease."
He chuckles, and with nothing more than his fingers barely ghosting over you clit, he gently commands you, "Come for me."
And you do, body jerking up into his hand, a string of expletives falling from your mouth.
Joel kisses your neck softly as you finish, nipping at your earlobe and drinking in all your desperate little sounds, never moving his hand from its place over your cunt as the aftershocks pass over you.
Still in a haze, you watch as Joel retrieves the blade and smirks, a new idea seemingly coming to mind. He reaches between your legs to coat his fingers with his come and your wetness and then carefully drags the dull edge of the blade over his digits, soaking the shiny metal. Without a word, he guides it towards your lips and watches as you cautiously lick a thin stripe along the flat side of blade, tasting yourself and Joel mixed with the metallic flavour of the knife.
"Shit," Joel laughs lightly, staring at you in amazement. You smirk right back at him, relishing the awed glint in his eyes.
Then he's throwing the knife to the ground; you hear it hit the hardwood with a dull clang, and the sound is what ultimately breaks the spell.
Now Joel pulls you lovingly into his arms, and you curl into him like coming home. His strong arms around you become a refuge as he strokes your hair and plants tender kisses along your arms, your shoulders, your cheeks.
It's all part of the deal, and Joel always gives you what you need.
END.
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