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arcanefox207 · 1 day ago

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Moth, this was a great read!! There was so much suspense and risk for reader, I loved it so much. Also incredibly hot and you captured Dave beautifully. No notes. 🥵🫶

keystrokes (dave york x hacker!f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

rating: E (18+!)

summary: You hacked into Dave Yorks computer and found more secrets than you bargained for.

contents: Non con/dub con, mean!Dave, voyeurism, sex toys, masturbation, mutual masturbation, porn, breaking and entering, violence?, gun, gunplay, choking, morally grey reader, reader is Girl with the Dragon Tattoo coded but not physically described

wc: 3.4k

a/n: So I've been having some ✨writers block ✨ (hence the lack of updates last month) but for some reason, Dave York did a little breaking and entering in my brain and shook it loose. I've been writing a lot of heartfelt romance recently and I think I just needed a little depravity I guess.

Thank you @moonlitbirdie and @whocaresstillthelouvre for giving this a look and for anyone I shouted at about this idea (looking at you @schnarfer and @toomanytookas but I know there have been others). Dividers by @ saradika-graphics.

You squint in the light of the refrigerator. It’s empty save for some cartons of half-eaten Chinese food and cans of energy drinks. Check the time— half past one. Too late to order in. Guess cold lomein it is.

The apartment falls back into darkness once you swing the fridge door shut. You’re used to it, the soft glow of your computer monitors illuminating your little space. It’s easy to forget to turn the lights on when you’re focused on your work. Forget to eat. Forget to meet people that aren’t on the other side of a screen.

You sit down at your desk, legs crossed in your seat, and shovel some food into your mouth. Most nights are like this, lost in your work. It’s never felt like a job, not really. More like a way to do the shit you’ve always done except now you get paid to do it. You’re a subcontractor of a subcontractor, someone far enough away from the government that they can get information while still maintaining plausible deniability. You don’t know who you’re working for and most of the time your assignments are vague. All you have to do is gather intelligence and put it into a neat little report without mentioning the methods you used to get it.

You’ve always enjoyed uncovering people’s secrets, reading notes over your classmates shoulders, looking through the search history on friends’ computers. That insatiable curiosity is what led you to start hacking. The targets these days aren’t always exciting but at least tonight’s is.

David York.

Early 40s, divorced. Ex military. DIA. There’s much more to him than that, though. A little program hidden on his computer lets you track each keystroke he makes.

You’ve learned all about him. Dave he prefers. There’s a lot that won’t make it into your report— where he shops online (Brooks Brothers), the take out he orders (one large pepperoni from Frankie’s Pizzeria), the porn he watches (girl on girl). But there’s one thing your bosses will be interested in: Dave York is a contract killer.

You could’ve ended this project by now. You’ve got plenty in your notes to make your customers happy yet you’re still logging onto his computer. It fascinates you that a man so normal, almost on the borderline of boring, could be so dangerous.

You shovel some food into your mouth and go drag your mouse over your desk. You’ve been reviewing footage you recorded through his webcam today. A few lines of code and you were able to turn his laptop’s camera on without activating the tally light. He was smart enough to use unique, complicated passwords, two-factor authentication, and encrypted emails but he didn’t take the time to put a sticker over his webcam.

You’ve found some interesting information this way— listened in on conversations, heard the things he only says into his burner phone. Tonight most of it is just Dave at the keyboard, his tie loosening over time.

You scrub through the footage, Dave drinking coffee and typing in fast forward punctuated by stretches of his empty home office. Nothing exciting until—

You pause the video when you see it. Lomein hangs from your open mouth. He’s half naked, head thrown back, hand buried in his lap. His dick is engulfed in a big fist, a bead of precum frozen before it rolls over his fingers.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen a mark in a compromising position. In this line of work, you’ve seen all the dark corners of people’s hard drives. There’s worse than nudes and home made porn out there. Normally— if it’s not illegal, at least— you just scroll by. But Dave, it’s different when it comes to him. For some reason, seeing him in a compromising position has your blood rushing in your ears. He’s a killer. How many people have had the opportunity to see him in such a vulnerable state?

He’s bare to the waist, his chest so smooth you wonder if he shaves it or if he’s naturally like that. His broad shoulders look perfect to grab onto if you were on top of him. Riding him.

Of course you notice all of this after taking a good, long look at his cock. A clutch of dark curls trail down his soft belly to where it stands, drooling in his fist. You realize you’re salivating.

Guilt pokes at you as you move the playhead back. It’s a violation. Then again, you’ve all but eviscerated Dave's privacy. You know exactly how much money is in his bank account, that his daughter Molly has a sleepover this weekend, that he’ll kill innocents.

He’s not a good person. You’re not either.

You roll back the tape, finding the start of this, and hit play. Dave’s palm traces his bulge through his pajama pants. He’s watching porn, you can hear the over-exaggerated moans through the computer’s tinny speakers.

It’s not the first time you’ve noticed that Dave is hot. After all, you have access to all of the pictures on his laptop. Including the selfies he takes after his runs, muscles glistening with sweat. He’s a bit clean cut for your tastes but right now, he’s something else altogether– the lust in his brown eyes, the control as he teases himself. You swallow hard.

It’s a while before he actually takes his dick out of his pajama pants. You remind yourself repeatedly that you can stop, just click away and let him keep this moment to himself but you’re on the edge of your seat, already throbbing. He finally pulls down his waistband and you’re looking at his upright cock again. It’s thick, a flushed vein running up the underside. He squirts lube into his hand from a bottle that’s just out of frame and when he finally lets his fist move down his length, his eyes sink closed, savoring the sensation.

He touches himself with a practiced motion, gripping the shaft and pulling upwards, a twist of the wrist so that his palm caresses the tip before squeezing back down the length again. His strokes are agonizingly slow. He’s so methodical, patient, like in everything else you’ve discovered.

You’re holding your breath, the suspense aching in your core. There’s plenty of time to study him— those full lips parted, muscles in his arm flexing. Every once in a while he grunts and loosens his grip, keeping himself from going over the edge.

By now, your hand has found its way between your legs. Your fingers trace absentmindedly over the seam in your sleep shorts, already sticky and soaked through. You match Dave’s lazy pace, giving yourself the same pleasure he’s experiencing.

Without taking your eyes off of the screen, you lean over to the set of drawers beside your desk and pull out your favorite vibrator. You shimmy out of your shorts and panties and drag the toy over your needy clit.

You moan with him, watching Dave’s toned arm flex up and down. His bottom lip looks so thick, you want to rake your teeth across it. It’s almost grotesque the way his nostrils flare, the rhythmic grunts that leave him as his hand works faster. The muscles in his neck strain and you can tell he’s close.

You are, too. You swivel your hips against the vibrator, speeding up the thrusts and strengthening its power. Fuck. What would it feel like to have Dave’s mouth on you? His cock in you?

He can’t hold back any longer. Dave’s eyes squeeze shut and his jaw clenches and he makes a noise more animal than man. The eruption of cum is the last thing you see before you’re sent reeling, moaning out your own desperate cry as you pulse around your vibrator.

You take deep breaths as you return to earth, hitting the spacebar to pause the video and blinking back to reality. Your heart rate slows and you wipe your hand across your face. That’s enough work for one night. That might be enough Dave for good. Tomorrow you’ll finalize your report and put him out of your mind.

The vibrator is tossed carelessly onto the desk. You put your panties on but leave your shorts discarded on the floor amongst the rest of your laundry and then you put your computer to sleep. Without the light of the monitors, the room is cloaked in darkness and you drag yourself from your chair a few short paces to the bed.

It’s still dark when you wake, an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You strain your ears for noise, any sign of what woke you but there’s nothing. Then a creak. Your heart leaps into your throat. Someone’s here, in your apartment.

You fumble for your backpack in the dim. Somewhere in the bottom there’s a can of pepper spray that you bought for a situation just like this but your hands are trembling and you can’t see a fucking thing.

A figure appears behind the French door that separates your room from the kitchen and any drowsiness that was lingering evaporates immediately. It’s a man— broad body clothed entirely in black— and in his hand you make out the silhouette of a gun. The room’s too fucking tiny for there to be anywhere decent to hide. There’s no time to think. Your only choice is to brandish your bag as a weapon. He barges in and you swing for his face.

“Fuck,” he grunts but it merely slows him for a moment, knocking hm off balance and his beanie off of his head.

You scramble towards the front door but you’re tackled to the ground, wind knocked out of your lungs. As you gasp for air, you’re flipped onto your back and you find yourself face to face with your assailant. Even in the darkness, through your terror and disorientation, you recognize him.

Dave York glares down at you, his angular face cast in shadows, a menacing snarl on his lips. The muzzle of his silencer is far too close to your face but there’s no shrinking from it with your head against the floor and Dave’s heavy hand on your middle.

“You and I have a problem,” he growls. “You know why I’m here?”

You shake your head frantically, still barely able to fill your lungs.

“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. I know you’re not stupid,” he says.

He pulls you to your feet as if you weigh nothing and hauls you towards your room. You’re thrown into your desk chair, head still spinning. Dave stands over you and clamps your wrist to the arm rest.

“You know why you’re spying on me?” he asks, a cold threat in his words.

You nod.

“Then you know you don’t want me as your enemy.” You say nothing but a shiver runs down your spine. His eyes are nearly black, reflecting the dull light of the sleeping computer monitors.

“I want your hard drives. Back ups, too. Everything you’ve got on me,” he demands.

“Okay,” you manage. “Would you just get that gun out of my face?”

“Get to it,” he says, and spins your chair so you’re facing the keyboard.

The monitors come to life and, suddenly, you’re in deeper shit. You try to hit a shortcut on the keys to close the window that’s open but your fingers are trembling so hard, you miss. Dave sees it all.

Something changes in him— a tightening in his jaw, a flaring of his nostrils— as he sees the evidence of your surveillance. His spent form, blissed out and covered in his own release hovers on screen. Right where you left him.

Dave’s eyes narrow at the video then slide down to the toy sitting within arms reach and there’s no denying what he can see so plainly.

He rounds on you with a wild look, flinging the chair back so its wheels hit your bed.

“You get off on that?” he demands.

Your heart might have actually stopped for a minute.

“Answer me,” he demands.

“I– No,” you lie.

He appraises you with a deep scowl until a wicked grin spreads on his lips.

“You’re a pretty little thing, huh?” he muses.

He drags the gun across your breast, your nipple hardening beneath the muzzle’s brush. You let out a whimper— out of fear or arousal, you’re not sure. You swear he growls under his breath.

“You’re trouble though,” he says.

You swallow thickly, your entire body quivering.

”Show me,” he says, depositing the gun on the desk and thrusting the toy towards you.

”What?” You ask.

”Show me how you touched yourself,” he tells you.

That’s what you thought he was saying. You stare at him dumbly, too shocked to even protest.

“You watched me. Only seems fair,” he says as if this is some bargain you’re cutting with the man holding the gun. ”Do I have to make you?”

He leans over you, his hand braced on the back of your chair, and presses the vibrator into the gusset of your panties. Rough and clicked onto the highest setting, you squirm and cry out. You’re already so overstimulated, it’s torture and bliss all at once. Your hips buck against the toy but Dave holds your thigh open.

”Okay! Stop! Fuck!” you whine, wrenching at his wrist until he lets up.

You try to catch your breath.

“Take these off,” he instructs, snapping the elastic of your panties against your waist with a thick finger.

You hiss and glare at him but you have no choice but to obey, sliding them down your legs. Dave watches, his eyes darkening once you’re revealed to him. He swears under his breath.

”Look at that mess,” he says.

Your whole body burns but the hunger in his gaze makes your fear take a back seat. Defiantly, you put your hand out for the vibrator. You open your legs wider so he can get a good look at you. There’s a tick in his jaw that gives you some satisfaction.

The vibrator purrs dully in your palm and you take your time bringing it to your clit. A low, long moan leaves you. You’re swollen but slick and even gentle strokes feel electric in your veins.

There’s a tent already forming in Dave’s pants. He’s a killer, sure, but right now he’s horny.

Your head falls back as you continue. His gaze devours each part of you— where the toy glistens against you, your nipples rising and falling below your shirt, the crease in your brow as you keen.

“You’re a filthy girl, huh?” he asks.

You nod and a smile actually pulls at the corner of your lips. It shouldn’t turn you on so much to jerk off in front of a man that has seemingly no hesitations when it comes to killing you but somehow that fact has arousal mounting faster. Your eyes drift closed as you focus on the heady sensation of the friction on your overworked nerves.

The sound of a metallic clink and soft zip distracts you from your reverie. When you look at Dave, you find his hand down the front of his pants, knuckles straining against the fabric of his black boxer briefs as he tugs at himself.

“Keep going,” he breathes and you realize you’re staring slack-jawed, desire flooding out any remnants of fear left within you.

After a few blinks, you press the vibrator against your clit again. Your back arches and you give a luxurious sigh for his benefit. His fist tightens, muscles in his neck straining and, fuck, you have to grip the seat of your chair to keep yourself from falling out of it.

With a grunt, Dave’s pushing his jeans out of the way, freeing his cock so he can work himself in the angles he likes, the same ones you watched through his webcam. The sound of his shallow breaths and slick strokes mix with the rumble of your toy and the creak of your chair as you writhe. It’s absolutely maddening. And then he starts babbling. Saying things like, “You like this, huh?” and “Say my name sweetheart.” You do it, panting out the word to a hum of approval.

He crowds you and for a moment you prepare yourself for the chance he’s about to shove his dick down your throat. Instead he’s yanking up your shirt, exposing your tits to the cold air in the room. Dave fondles one and then the other, squeezing the tender flesh with a groan. His hand is much softer than you’d expect for a contract killer, his touch almost gentle as he teases your nipples with the pad of his thumb.

Dave’s expression nearly looks pained, a delicious frown over his plump bottom lip. It makes you mewl and your hips jump.

“You close?” he asks. His voice is ragged.

A breathless nod is all you can manage.

“Good girl,” he rasps.

His words are enough to send you over the edge, with a wanton moan. It crashes over you with so much more intensity than the one that came before it. Your spine locks up, thighs shake as you clench around nothing. Your heart hammers in your chest and between your legs and it’s as if the room is spinning. You twitch in aftershocks, completely spent.

The fog of pleasure has barely lifted when you glance up at Dave, fist still diligently pumping. There’s a fire in his eyes, that untamed excitement.

“Give me one more,” he commands.

“Can’t,” you plead. Need still bubbles at your core but your body is so exhausted from adrenaline and exertion, lust and release.

“You better,” he says.

Dave grinds the vibrator mercilessly against you and you swear aloud. He lets up only for his hand to close around your throat. It’s an unbearable mixture of pleasure and dull ache— the bruising pressure on your clit, the muscles in your thighs taught and burning— underlined by that euphoria. He squeezes around your jaw just hard enough to see stars again.

“That’s right,” he breathes against your cheek, his nose pressed into your temple.

Another orgasm comes almost immediately, pulsing at your core and squeezing through every fiber of your being. This time, you’re quiet, just a high pitched whine like a hurt animal though you’re anything but.

Dave groans. You can hear his teeth gritted though your eyes are shut. He swears and his hot release paints your bare chest, thick and sticky.

Everything stills as you both come down, all loosening muscles and shaky breaths. Dave remains close to you, stroking your cheek. His lips brush your hairline and you notice the smell of his cologne for the first time, something clean and masculine.

Dread should come now. He’s had his fun, now he can do away with you — yet it doesn’t surface.

Slowly Dave stands and tucks himself back into his pants. He almost looks ashamed of himself. You pull your shirt down, covering your stained breasts, and watch Dave smooth his hair.

“So are we good?” you ask.

“If you do what I said,” he answers. “You’re going to get rid of anything you have against me and you’re going to tell your bosses that all you found was a regular guy.”

“Alright, Dave,” you say.

He scowls at you like he doesn’t like your tone. “When I say delete everything, I mean everything,” he says, eyes flitting towards the monitor.

You steal a glance in that direction as well. Dave half naked, still frozen there looking absolutely ruined.

“Understand?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to know if you don’t because I’ll be watching you. And if you cross me, I’m going to come back here and I won’t be so nice to you next time,” Dave says.

You wish that threat didn’t make your body light up like a Christmas tree. It’s absolutely reckless. There’s no chance in hell you’re letting go of that piece of treasure and if the consequence is Dave knocking on your door– or letting himself in– that’s a risk you’re willing to take.

It’s as if he knows. Dave scoffs to himself, then fishes his hat off of the floor along with your panties.

“These are mine now,” he says.

And you’re almost sad to see him go.

comments and reblogs always appreciated! or scream at me in the ask box or dms!

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

#fic rec #dave york fic #dave york smut #ppcu fics

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arcanefox207 · 2 days ago

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#Really missing QZ!Joel #sigh 😔#Joel miller #the last of us #I love all Joels but this one is just my happy place #Ive lost my drive to gif lately sorry I have nothing new for you

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arcanefox207 · 2 days ago

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Something weird as fuck? Okay!

Do you believe in conspiracy theories and what is your favorite one?

My oldest kid had convinced my youngest that rocks are only hard when you touch them and soft the rest of the time (yes I get the penis metaphor). So it was super fun when the school called about our baby boy arguing with the teacher over rocks.

OOoh I love this!!

I do not BUT I love to play along with a ridiculous theory and fake debate it being a thing. I find it all really fascinating when people actually believe things that are absurd. It is very entertaining. The one with your kids and the rocks is great, though I can see it being a problem as a parent haha.

I don't know any crazy ones off the top of my head... but I remember hearing one that people think Brittney Spears is a sleeper agent activated by the government as a distraction and had all these "facts" why and I thought that was wild 😂

And the one that baby pigeons do not exist.

#ask ally #thanks for playing baby <3

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arcanefox207 · 2 days ago

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REBLOG IF ITS OKAY IF I PUT SOMETHING FUCKING WEIRD AS FUCK IN YOUR INBOX

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arcanefox207 · 3 days ago

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Oh Ali this was delicious!!! Absolutely loved it. 🤤🤤🤤

His hand grips into the hair at the base of your scalp and tugs, holding you tight as he suddenly pulls his hips back, “Open your fuckin’ mouth,”

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | Joel's pent up, you've got ideas.

author's note | just had the urge to do some free-use/cnc stuff with softer jackson!joel, huddled into my little writing cave and came up with this. also, happy birthday to the man who's brought me so many great friends within this fandom <3

content warning | 18+ MDNI, DEAD DOVE: CNC, FREE-USE, brief aftercare, established relationship, jackson!joel, pre-arranged dynamics, dom/sub elements, mentions of safewords, facefucking & forcefucking, eating out from the back, none of this is good for joel's knees, a short game of chase, claiming kink, degradation, slapping (consensual), unprotected piv, creampies. this fic contains dark elements, if it is not your thing, continue on.

word count — 4.7k

It grows like weeds in your brain.

Joel is notoriously tightly wound and rigid. Only in the comfort of his own home do you see the softer side of him, still subdued and quiet—most of his words transferred through touches and silent facial expressions.

You’ve grown on him, opened him up in a way that most would never be able to.

You weren’t ever on his radar nor was he on yours—there was a sort of stigma around Joel, off-limits completely of his own volition, a natural recluse. You only ever really saw him with Ellie and Tommy, otherwise he was busy with patrol or a complete ghost.

It wasn’t until you’re paired up with him on patrol that something changes.

It wasn’t instantaneous either, but just as persistent with the thought in your brain as you stare at him now, leaned against the bar with a sour expression, you grew on him.

You were well-versed; starting fires, skinning animals, and knowing how to field strip your pistol with your eyes closed.

Joel witnessed it once and he’s not sure he’s ever been more entranced by something in his entire life, the genuine confusion on his face as you finally glance up at him was enough to kickstart the beginning of…whatever this was.

There weren't any explicit labels given—but if Joel wasn’t in your bed at night, you were always in his. Things were just that; happening, existing. You were settled with the fact that labels and titles weren’t of immediate concern in the grim apocalypse.

Joel’s hair is grown out and you feel the constant need to tuck it behind his ear, doing so as he eyes you carefully, jaw tight and set in place, hand gripping tight around the glass in his hand.

“I think you need an outlet,” your voice is quiet, starkly opposite of the room around you.

You’ve got your own language, communicating through silence that is cataloged through expressions and subtle emotion. He’s clearly had a bad day, a bad week, coming back to you reeking of decay and musk, traversing through rain and hoards of infected for weeks just to take out a few groups that wander too close to Jackson, riddled with cuts and bruises that you tried to convince yourself a kiss would heal it quicker.

“Let’s go,” you suggest, finger trailing down his bicep until you can pry the glass from his hands.

Joel is more than willing to be dragged away into silence, never the most chipper individual at the community events that his brother and wife insisted on holding for morale.

–

It’s strange how diplomatic the suggestion becomes, a conversation over a shared cup of coffee—Joel was running low and inherently stingy.

“That side isn’t a mystery to me,” you tell him, watching how he stares at you wearily over the cup, “I’ve seen you kill men with your bare hands. Granted, they deserved it.”

“So, you think me hurtin’ you is a better alternative?”

You sigh, shoulders shrugging. You reach forward and claw your fingers into the front of his shirt and tug, pulling him toward you slightly, face falling flat and serious.

“I’m not so easily broken, Miller,” you retort, “Besides, with this, we can set rules.”

“Rules?”

Suddenly, he’s an echo.

You nod—in all seriousness, you wanted him to understand.

“We’ll have a safe word, something non-verbal in case we can’t talk. There’s a mutual understanding, trust—”

“No, I know…I know how this works,” Joel interjects, “Jus’ didn’t suspect this was something you were willin’ to try is all.”

“I like your gentle side,” you assure him with a subtle smile, fingers trailing up his neck and through the stubble of his graying beard, curling around the back of his head and into his soft curls, “but I like it just as much as the rest of you.”

Joel’s silent, pensive as usual, his hand curling around the back of your neck to mimic your own touch, and he nods, “We can try it, f’it is somethin’ we both want.”

“I’m all in,” you grin wider, carefully prying the mug from his grip and placing it on the counter at your hip, “are you?”

“Game on, sweetheart,” He breathes against your mouth before he captures you in a slow kiss; the kind that makes your heart flutter with need, a floating feeling as it grows.

–

He doesn’t give you any warning, but you wanted it that way.

There had always been an understanding that Joel could have you whenever he pleased, the same extended to you—as long as it was when you were both alone.

Espresso is the word you both settle on, a vested interest in the situation.

It was the element of surprise that made it all the more enticing, both of you running on empty most days, and with the usual gentleness that Joel provides on a daily basis, you sense it as you meet his doorstep on this particular night.

He wasn’t back yet, still on his route back with Tommy. But, you knew he’d slip in at some point that night, making yourself at home with the small remnants of your presence throughout his space.

Shoes at his front door, jacked laid over the back of his couch, the key to your house on his kitchen counter beside his owl mug, a miniscule amount of cold, brown liquid pooling at the bottom.

You leave the lights off, scouring through his cabinets for a clean cup to pour yourself a glass of water, fetching the pitcher from his fridge and vigilant to the gentle creaks of the house, heat expanding and making it snap.

It’s subtle, but something shifts.

You ignore it outright, knowing that Joel wasn’t due home yet.

You replace the pitcher and sip gingerly at the glass of water, obviously to the lingering shadow that seems to move with you, closing your eyes as your head tilts to the side, feeling a pop in your shoulder with the movement, too tense to relax.

It has been like this for the past few days.

Shitty sleeping arrangements, long nights on watch, it was hell on the body.

You hum, eyes closer as your head rolls around and forward. You slide the cup onto the surface of the counter and pull your bottom lip between your teeth and groan softly, allowing everything else to fade away before the pressure comes, sudden and unexpected.

It sends the water in your mouth out, through the hand that’s clamped tight over it.

There’s a soft yelp on your behalf and a grunt of acknowledgement, another strong hand wound tight at your wrist as they were maneuvered so easily behind your back.

Someone was back early.

“You sure you still want this, sweetheart?”

It was the final moment of grace before you both succumbed to the deep desire of escapism.

You nod, barely, but Joel feels the movement.

You snap into the subservience naturally.

You fight against his restraint, hearing the soft click of his tongue as he yanks against your movement, “Doors are locked,” his voice is like fire; so hot it burns, “ain’t nowhere for you to run.”

You make a small noise and force the struggle, both desperate to get out of his grip in an effort for the game to begin, but because it did hurt, though the discomfort was nice.

Your breath is uneven, heartbeat hammering in your chest as Joel’s grip tightens.

His calloused fingers dig into the flesh of your wrists, pinning them behind your back with an ease that makes you shudder, full body.

He’s unrelenting, pressing your body flush against his, the broad plane of his chest a solid, immovable force. He’s always felt intimidating, but you’ve never been on the receiving end like this, caught and cornered.

His breath ghosts over your ear, warm and slow, a sharp contrast to the way he wrenches your hands higher up your spine, dead center on your back while your hips dig into the edge of the counter.

A low grunt rumbles from his chest as you writhe, the feigned struggle met with nothing but amusement from him. Joel’s always been playful, though often reserved, this was the perfect way to squeeze it out of him.

“Tryin’ awful hard to get away, babygirl,” he muses, voice laced with darkness.

You bite your lip, twisting again, testing. He can feel it under the press of his palm, squeezing tighter against your cheeks. His opposite grip tightens further. A warning. A reminder.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

Your breath catches again as he shifts, pressing you firm and flat against the counter, chest parallel with the surface. The coolness seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, a sharp contrast to the heat of him behind you, evident arousal against your ass.

He leans in closer, his nose grazing the shell of your ear before he speaks again, “Say it,” he orders, voice just above a whisper, shirt bunched up in his hands where he has your hands held.

You swallow hard as he removes his palm for a brief moment, your fingers twitching uselessly in his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His chuckle is low, a rumble of satisfaction. “That’s right.”

His now free hand trails up your stomach, fingertips barely grazing over the fabric of your shirt before he hooks it beneath the hem and yanks it upward, manhandling you with the movement as he pulls it over your head and down your back.

You gasp, the sudden exposure sending a thrill racing through you.

Joel shifts, releasing your wrists only to catch them again a second later as he turns you to face him, this time capturing them at your stomach. He twists them together, holding them in one hand, the fabric of your shirt is ripped apart and knotted around your wrists, keeping you stuck but allowing him full mobility again.

“Color?” he asks, his tone softer, just for a moment.

You exhale shakily, the word coming easily. “Green.”

It was the first time in a few days you’re able to see him and he’s looking particularly wrecked, smelling like mulch and rain, but something so distinctly him.

His fingers tighten around your wrists as he hums in approval and tugs, “Good girl.”

The praise sinks into your skin, setting you alight in a way that has you pulling against him again, an involuntary reaction.

His grip holds firm, an unspoken reminder of who’s in control.

Your pulse quickens, your body thrumming with anticipation as he steps back just enough to admire his work. Joel’s thumb strokes over the inside of your wrist, a fleeting moment of tenderness before his other hand grips your chin, tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but you know that look—you’ve seen it before, felt it in the quiet moments when he lets himself want.

“You remember the word too?” he asks.

You nod, pulse roaring in your ears. “Espresso.”

His lips curl into something between a smirk and a snarl.

–

The pout you form is instinctual, watching him examine you for a brief moment, admiring his work, the exquisite press of your tits where they’re trapped between your arms, wrists bound tight, the remnants of your sweats hanging low on your hips from the brief struggle.

He’s witnessed a lot of beauty in his life but nothing quite like you.

He takes a step forward which is met with you moving away, eyes wide with adrenaline and playful fear, so genuine that Joel believes it, like you’re finally seeing him for the monster he really is.

“Don’t run,” he warns, “it won’t end well for you.”

Eventually, your back hits the wall adjacent to the kitchen, beside his front door. It was locked and deadbolted—when the fuck had he managed that? You turn your head to glance but you’re met with his fingers gripping your chin, body closing in.

His hand curls around the expanse of your throat and squeezes.

The pressure is deliberate, a reminder of your helplessness as he forces you back against the wall, trapping you between the solid wood and the heat of his body. His other palm skims over your side, down your hip, a featherlight touch that has you sucking in a sharp breath.

“Breathe for me,” Joel murmurs, thumb tracing over the delicate skin just beneath your jaw.

He watches you intently, eyes darkened from their normal caramel warmth to near black.

You exhale, slow and measured, eyes steady on him.

His hand drags lower, over your collarbone, down to your sternum, your stomach, before slipping beneath the fabric of your sweats. There’s no hesitation. His hand curls, firm and unforgiving over your cunt, fitted to the size of his girthy hand.

“You feel that?” he asks, his voice rough, and you nod jerkily, “That’s all me. You’re mine now.”

You whimper weakly as your lips part in a gasp, the claim stabbing something deep in your chest.

He tilts his head, eyes flickering over you, taking in the ragged breath you exhale.

“Still think you can run?” he taunts, smirking, his free hand gripping your hip, squeezing hard enough to make you wince—you’re silent, defiant.

You shift, testing his hold—there was nowhere to go, really.

His smirk deepens, wicked and wildly possessive. “Go on, sweetheart. Try.”

There’s a slight pause to your movements, unsure of what was to come.

Joel nods his head to the side, urging the chase.

Without a thought, you bolt.

His footsteps don’t follow, though.

Where he stays, he strips.

Boots first, then his jacket.

He’s slow, methodical in his movements and calculated.

There’s a few rooms upstairs to choose from—the bathroom was small, confined. Naturally, your instincts lead you toward his room, knowing that inevitably he would find you, but it wouldn’t hurt to play his game.

Joel so easily slipped into whatever role you needed—or that he craved; this side of him that craved you for nothing more than your body, an animalistic need that both of you felt. You enjoyed putting up the fight, the resistance you knew he could snap with a look or a word.

“Shouldn’t be here this late,” you hear his voice carry from downstairs, “sneaking into my house at this hour, no clue what you’re walking into,” heavy footsteps despite his lack of boots, one door opening and another closing, “well—that’s just stupid.”

You bend down to your knees and attempt to crawl toward his bed, hands gripping on the underside to pull yourself out of view, but you were already too late.

There’s a rasp to his voice that you’ve never heard before, the faint jingling of his belt before the door whips open and his hands are wrapped tight around your ankles, pulling with a hefty strength he’s acquired through years of survival.

“Caught you,” he growls, dragging you by your ankles against the faded turquoise rug, “hidin’ from me ain’t gonna do you much good, darlin’.”

You let out a breathy laugh that borders on a whimper, his presence towering over you before you feel the weight of him settle, pressing your body firmly against the hardwood. You writhe beneath him, not to escape but to incite his need further. He’s kneeling over you now, the sight of him mouthwatering but vaguely frightening, nearly unrecognizable.

Your hips shift against him, and he responds with a hand pressing your wrists above your head, pinning you like prey. The other hand roams down, curling around the band of your sweats before he’s tugging them down and out of the way, the lack of panties not even the least bit surprising for him, shaking his head in amusement.

He knows you’ve been eager for his approach, waiting, but the sight of you now and completely bare underneath him as he tossed the last remnants of your clothes away was enough to quiet the buzzing in his brain, focused intently on the heavy breathing racking your chest, hands still tightly bound, lips parted in anticipation as you watched him, still struggling against his hold.

“You can’t untie me,” you barter, “I’ll be good.”

He chuckles darkly, “Nice try—stop talkin’,”

Your mouth snaps shut at the instructions, face going expressionless as Joel hoists you upright, hands pulling at your elbows until you’re on your feet and you’re pressing against the edge of his bed, the cool sheets kissing your back.

He’s not gentle or rough, rather more firm. He flicks at your chin until you get the silent instruction to lean your head back against the edge of the bed, waiting obediently on your knees for his next move.

“If I let you go–you gonna stay put?” He asks, your eyes too focused on the hand that goes for his zipper, fingers curling around the thick denim band of his jeans, mouth pooling with saliva that begs to drip off the tongue that’s resting against your bottom lip.

The slap is sharp, surprising, but not unwelcome.

There’s a silent moment when you lock eyes that Joel fears that might’ve been a bit too much, but then your bottom lip is pulling between your teeth and you’re nodding to his question finally.

“Good—quiet, I like that,” he tells you and you can feel your body vibrating with the anticipation as he shifts his jeans down, hand dipping inside of his boxers to wrap around his cock, settling the fabric underneath balls, tightly drawn from his straining cock, angered and pulsing with a thick drop of precum at the head, chin gravitating to pull you forward almost on instinct.

Joel scowls, though, pushing you back roughly.

“Look at you, squirmin’ around all helpless and cock hungry. I didn’t tell you to fuckin’ move, did I?”

Your eyes flutter with the harsh movement as you shake your head.

“Open your mouth,” he tells you coarsely, “tongue out—yeah….yeah, there you go,” he rubs the head of his cock over your wet tongue and forcefully feeds it into your mouth, slow and mindful until it nudges against the back of your throat, keeping himself in place as your eyes search for his face.

He smirks down at you, teeth gritting with the strain, watching you struggle to take more of him as you gag around his thick girth, tears pooling in your eyes. He’s got that familiar musk of a day's work, somehow more intoxicating than his normal, sweet scent from your shared body wash.

Joel knows it’s too much. He can feel it in the way your mouth is tightening around him, nostrils flaring to hold on for just a few seconds longer, but he doesn’t care—he wants to see you like this, needs it.

When he finally jerks his hips back and pulls out, a string of saliva connects your mouth to his cock, gurgling against the tip with your chin drenched in spit, drooling shamelessly down your neck as you gasp for a breath of air.

Joel groans through clenched teeth before he’s pushing himself back into your mouth, a low and constant moan rumbling from his chest as he fucks his way into your mouth, hand curled around the top of your skull, the other gripping tight into his sheets as he leveraged the surface for tighter thrusts.

It’s dizzying, bordering on too painful as your eyes flutter shut.

“Fu—fuck,” he stutters, his thrusts faltering, “filthy fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?”

Your response is a soft hum and the gentlest shake of your head you can manage.

Defiance, clear as day.

His hand grips into the hair at the base of your scalp and tugs, holding you tight as he suddenly pulls his hips back, “Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he instructs with a raspy tone, hastily prying your mouth open with his fingers as he slides his cock over your tongue, his brow furrowed at he tugged at his cock with a harsh rhythm, white knuckling the way he’s gripped himself before he’s spilling his warm spend over your tongue, opaque liquid filling your mouth and spurting over your lips, his strangled groan caught in his throat as he comes.

“That’s right,” he seethes, his hand pressing under your chin to shut your mouth, cheeks squished together as he kneels to your level, eyes following his movements with measured anticipation, “greedy girl. Swallow it.”

At this angle it was painful, blinking rapidly as you swallowed, his hands unrelenting in their pressure until he’s satisfied, letting you go carelessly as you slump forward, bound hands pressing into the floor to catch yourself. His thumb presses against the skin of your cheek and smoothes the mess he’s left there, dragging his spit-slicked fingers over your jaw, a lazy smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Look at this,” he murmurs, voice still rough with lust as he leans closer, “you’re a fuckin’ mess.”

You give him a lazy glare from beneath your lashes, dazed but still sharp enough to form a coherent thought, “You’re such an asshole,” Your voice is hoarse and barely audible through the evident strain of your throat, but you manage to get it out in spite of yourself.

A jab, empty with meaning, but it makes Joel smile.

“Well, I ain’t done with ‘ya,” Joel antagonizing, “think you can just make yourself at home when I’m gone, I think that deserves some punishment,”

The element of surprises is what does you in, a sudden tug forward.

There’s a tightness at your wrists as he finally reaches for the knot binding them together, rough and calloused hands skimming over your skin and sending pinpricks up your arms. The fabric loosens with his handiwork, blood rushing back into numb fingers as he bunches the makeshift binding into his hand and uses his freehand to grip your bicep, tugging you until you’re falling against the floor, gasping at the impact.

Joel seems to hesitate at that, his touch suddenly softer. You can’t see his face, but the reassurance you give him is instant.

“Green, green,” you rush out to ground him back in the present.

It does the trick, it seems.

You’re on your stomach and you can feel the press of denim at the back of your thighs as he corrals you in, arms dragging down to your elbows until he can push them up and around the leg of his bed, watching with wide eyes as he binds your wrists again, though looser, around the wood.

“Can’t have you runnin’ away before I get a taste,” Joel says from behind, hearing the faint ruffle of fabric before his shirt hits the bed, his hands curling around your hips to pull you up, ass propped up for him to feast.

And he does, hands squeezing into your cheeks as he spreads you open, moaning out lewdly as his tongue licks greedily between your folds. He works you open this way, laps of his tongue reaching inside of you as he groans against your wet heat. Your fingers dig into your palm, biting at the flesh as you suppress a shaky cry, feeling the curl of desperation low in your belly and already threatening to unravel.

It’s sickening how easily he can bring you to this point of pliancy, even when you were so eagerly trying to resists, “Please,” you cry, “I can’t—please,”

“Say it,” he encourages once, reminding you that there was always control, but without the indication, he wasn’t going to let up.

You shake your head in defiance, “Fuck you,” you spit.

It doesn’t take long, either.

Joel chuckles because he knows you well enough to read the rhythm of your breathing, the shallow way your stomach shudders when you’re getting close. You feel every inch of him, skin and warmth and breath until it’s building and—

“Fuck!” A choked off cry as your head falls forward, body vibrating against the wood.

“Oh I know you got more than that in ya,” he taunts from between your thighs, the heat of his words sending another shock through you, more ruffling of fabric before his cock is heavy against the back of your thigh, hands kneading into supple flesh as he rubs the head through your folds before spearing inside of you with one sharp movement, and he sighs, “there she is.”

You let out a weak gasp, your body stretching around the thickness of him, searing heat and pressure making your mind go deliciously blank. You can barely catch your breath; he knocks it out of you with every forceful thrust, drowns you in the sound of skin slapping against skin.

The filthy wet noises that fill the space between gasping moans.

It’s relentless, primal.

He's everywhere, all at once, until there's nothing left but—

Joel. Joel. Joel.

“You’d let me do damn near anything to ‘ya,” he taunts, “helpless little girl without me, ain’t that right? Go on, tell me to stop.”

You whimper as his hand strikes your ass, demanding an answer.

He practically growls with insatiable hunger, the sound rumbling from his chest as he thrusts into you without restraint, “Speak when you’re spoken, too,” he bites, “open that fuckin’ mouth.”

“No—no," you sob, barely coherent.

“See?” he grunts as his hand slides around you to grip the base of your throat, tilting your head up and holding you against him while his cock hits devastating inside of you, silently undoing the bindings as he pulls you back against his chest, “Knew you could do it.”

It’s too much, the striking, brutal pleasure threatening to suffocate you.

You feel so immeasurably full of him and still—he’s not letting up.

Joel’s breath is ragged in your ear, sweat-slicked chest against your back. He presses against that spot inside of you with his cock and your vision goes white-hot. The sound that rips out of you is undeniable, pure pleasure.

“Shit,” he curses, “this all you needed? Huh? Me fuckin’ you like I own you?”

His fingers are still around your neck, tightening, and you can only sob in agreement as everything unwinds inside of you. His grip drives you against him, faster, harder, each push a little more desperate as he chases you into the crest of your second orgasm with his fingers drifting over your clit, the touch enough to end you on the spot.

“Gonna make me come again,” he warns roughly, unable to hide the strain in his voice.

Your whole body clenches around him at the promise and he lets out a weak grunt.

“Fuck,” he snarls, “come on, babygirl—do it. Do it for me.”

You’re too far gone to do anything but comply.

The pleasure explodes in your core as his thumb works like magic against you. He feels impossibly deep, and you cry out one last time as everything snaps and sends you over the edge.

Inside of you, Joel lets out a vicious growl as your body milks him for all he has to offer, his hips driving into you with punishing force while he spills hot into your cunt.

Eventually, his pace slows.

His grip on your throat gentles and he pulls out before collapsing next to you, breathless and heaving. He doesn't even bother making it to the bad, arm tucking under his head as you slump against his chest.

“Goddamn,” Joel mutters, the facade fading immediately, heaving through ragged gasps, dragging you into him, “c’mere, baby.”

Your smile is obvious, giddy—Joel can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“I think you enjoyed that a little too much,” Joel tells you, “s’good—we okay?”

“Peachy,” you reply without hesitation, taking note of his insistent touch, much gentler than a few minutes ago, “are you okay?”

“A little worried,” he admits, “didn’t know if I was bein’ too rough with you.”

“I would have told you,” you tell him honestly, pressing a kiss to his stomach from where you rest, before you playfully add, “and if we’re being honest—next time, don’t go so easy on me."

The look Joel gives you is hot—red hot; like a fire.

Joel nods dutifully, beckoning you upwards, “Ain’t nobody gonna touch you but me,” he promises, drawing your face up to his, “and I’m gonna make damn sure you won’t ever want ‘em to.”

As if there was anyone comparable to Joel.

Your soft grin told him all he needed to know.

There wasn’t.

#fic rec #Joel Miller smut #Jackson!joel

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arcanefox207 · 3 days ago

Text

Oh Milla that was good!! Also the first Clint fic I stumble across that's DBF, very nice 😏😏

You oughta know

4k2 | Clint Flood x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: after your ex breaks your heart yet again, you ask your dad’s best friend for a favour Warnings: 18+ mdni. Age gap (reader is 20, Clint is in his late 40s, early 50s), virginity loss, dbf!Clint, Clint is a little sleazy but soft, pet names (Clint calls reader kid, honey, baby), pussy pronouns, praise kink, oral (f/m), unprotected piv, creampie

a/n: writing really helps to process things. So this one is dedicated to one of my shitty ex bf (no dbf in my own story, tho). To my 16 yo self: you did great, girl 🫂😘 The fic is titled after “You oughta know” by Alanis Morissette, this absolutely perfect and full of rage banger. Shameless use of some lyrics at the end of the fic Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for being you, and for beta-ing me💕🫶 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏

You and Mike have never been a thing for a long time, or a thing at all. When he offered you a drink one night, you didn't tell him to fuck off, even though he had already broke your heart twice. Seemed that you were a kind of girl who thought she could fix the fucked up ones.

The way it ended the third time was the worst.

"Still a virgin? Yeah, that's not gonna work. I want someone who knows how to suck a cock, you know? Or to ride me. Not someone who knows nothing."

You ran into him again a few days later, his arm wrapped around some girl’s waist. She was prettier than you, more confident. And probably more experienced. They laughed when they saw you.

Fucking assholes.

You dragged your broken heart around for a while, until you saw Clint one night at the bar, shamelessly making out with a woman, his hand cupping her breast over her top. He was sitting on a barstool, she was standing between his thighs, and the way he was kissing and touching her made you stop dead in your tracks. It was hot, and for a moment you imagined yourself in her place and your pussy clenched. You were more turned on by that sight of him than by any other guys who had kissed you before. Including Mike.

Clint was your father's best friend, he often came to the trailer where your dad and you lived, and they would drink beers and watch a game. Unlike his friend, your father was not really reliable, too often drunk, and a real jerk. Telling you off a thousand times for your mother leaving him. Forgetting that she had left you too, when she’d run away from him.

Clint was cool even though it pissed you off when he called you “kid”. He didn’t give a shit, and seemed to enjoy it, looking straight into your eyes with a smile on his lips.

When your dad ended up drunk on the couch, Clint would often smoke a cigarette with you, then give you a few more before driving off in his Chevrolet. He wasn't much of a talker, but at least he wasn't a jerk. And he was hot.

So when you saw him at the bar that night, you thought about your shitty ex and got angry. He wanted you to be experienced? You were going to fix it with someone who would surely know how to handle it.

A few days later, Clint mentioned to your father about going to the movies the next night, and you knew he always liked to go alone.

Now Clint had a date with you, he just didn't know it yet. And you had to figure out how to convince him.

The movie was at 6 pm, and you finished work at 4. That gave you time to shower before going to the cinema.

Your father was home when you got there, and you wondered if he'd already been fired from his new job. As usual, he made a comment about your skirt being too short when you left. You didn't reply, got in your car and put on some music, trying to control your anxiety.

Clint’s car was already parked on the street when you arrived, and once you entered the movie theater you spotted him immediately at the back row. You went to sit next to him, and he saw you as you were walking along the seats, his usual reserved expression set on his face.

“What are you doing here, kid?”

You were so anxious that you didn't even roll your eyes at the usual nickname.

“Watching a movie. What are you doing here?” you retorted, trying not to show how nervous you were. He shrugged, and you sat down next to him, your short skirt reaching mid-thigh. His gaze slid over your legs for a second before returning to the screen, and the movie started.

He glanced at your thighs once or twice during the movie, and it gave you the courage to brush his arm and an elbow a few times with your own. He never pulled away until he finally turned to you and whispered, “you wanna explain what you're doin’?”

“Come with me,” you said as you stood up- not sure if he was going to follow you, but you could feel the heat of his gaze on your ass. You waited by the bathroom and he joined you a few seconds later.

“You're making me miss the movie,” he grumbled.

“It’s a shitty one anyway,” you replied as you pushed the door to the men's bathroom and entered before checking that no one was there.

"I need your help," you said and quickly explained what you needed from him, not overthinking it for once.

A man opened the door and entered before Clint had time to react to your words. Your father’s friend turned to him, and growled, "it’s busy."

The man’s eyes lingered on you, so Clint took a step closer to him and asked, “the fuck you're looking at?” The guy didn't argue and left. You heard him open the women's restrooms and rolled your eyes.

Clint turned to you, a questioning look on his face. “You want me to fuck you? For your first time?”

“Yeah.”

“To piss off that jerk and get him back?”

“Yeah...”

He scoffed. “This is the dumbest shit ever.”

Your eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment. You thought that after today when he‘d come to the trailer it would be awkward, that you were very naive to tell him about everything, carried away by your anger. That you should have overthought it.

“You shouldn't go back to him after that.”

His implied sentence made you raise your head and you looked at him hopefully.

“I'm not one of those men who whine some shit like “oh no, no… you're my friend's daughter, I won't fuck you.” Fuck it. You wanna fuck? I'll fuck you, no problem.”

Your smile went wide. “Great. In here?” you asked, pointing at one of the stalls, and he sneered at your words.

“Damn, you're not a subtle kind, kid. No, not here, ‘course not. You can't take this cock like that. Well, you could, but I'm not sure you'd like it. Need some time to get you ready.”

“Ok, when then?” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks at your completely uncontrolled impatience.

“Jeez, he really pissed you,” he smirked. “You're on the pill or something?”

“No, I’m not... Didn’t really need to.”

“Well, honey. I won't pull out, and I won't fuck you with a condom. I'll fuck you raw."

"I'll get the pill, then," you replied. He nodded, then told you to come to his place on Friday night.

"Ok. But Clint?… you're clean, right?”

“ ‘course I'm clean, honey.”

“I thought you'd chicken out,” he smirked when he opened the door for you on Friday. “But you didn't,” he added, taking you in from head to toe.

You rolled your eyes and said “and you? you didn’t chicken out?”

He chuckled. “Told you, you wanna get fucked, I'm all in. I won't say ‘no’ to a tight, virgin cunt, kid. Just don't tell your father, obviously. Don't need that shit in my life. And you aren’t spending the night here. I don’t wanna be rude, ok? But sometimes we can feel… things, after the first time. It can't happen, it would be too damn complicated. Ok? It’s just sex.”

You nodded, a little shy to be in front of him, now that you fully realized what was going to happen soon.

“Okay. So, what have you already done, sexually?”

“I.. ehm… watch porn.”

He raised his eyebrows then said “porn ain't real life, honey. What else?”

“I jerked off a guy once.”

“You made him come?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice,” he nodded, as if to encourage you. “Ok, what else?”

You shook your head.

“Nothing? Nobody ever went down on you?”

“No.”

“Guys are so stupid, nowadays, damn…” he said, shaking his head. “Okay, undress and lie down on the bed.”

You hesitated and looked around, silently asking for his help.

“I'm not really the romantic type, you know?”

“Come on, Clint. Help me a little, ok?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, and something flashed through his eyes. As if he somehow realized that you needed some softness.

He nodded and moved closer to you, pulling your top off. You looked at him shyly as his gaze lowered to your breasts before he cupped them with his large, warm hands. You shivered at the touch of his skin. He bent down, took your nipple in his mouth and sucked on it slowly, making it twirl under his tongue.

Then he took you in his arms. You weren’t expecting it but it was comforting. He was so big that it felt like being enveloped in a protective cocoon of warmth and your body relaxed. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close. He breathed in your scent, nuzzling the spot just below your ear, then said “lie down” in a low voice.

Once on the bed he knelt between your legs and grabbed the hem of your pants, pulled them down, then your panties followed.

“Gonna stretch you, ok? Besides, I like eating pussies. Feeling them getting all soaked for me.”

“Oh mmm…” you said, clearing your throat. “Ok.”

“You're gonna enjoy this, don't worry,” he said with a smirk.

He took off his plaid shirt and a gray t-shirt. He was so damn massive, broad. And hot. And you.. you weren't sure what to do with your arms, hesitant to cover your breasts, even though it was probably a little odd.

“No need to be shy in front of me. It's all natural.”

He got up and took off his pants and socks, keeping his boxers on. Your curiosity led you to look at his crotch. He was massive there, too.

“You, uh… ever done this before? Before me?”

“Being someone’s first? Oh, yeah,” he replied, climbing back onto the bed. “You girls like to let a real man take care of it. Someone who knows what he’s doing, right? Makes you feel safe.”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I feel safe.”

“Good. Now, do you know what happens when a virgin’s being eaten for the first time?”

You shook your head. You obviously had no idea what would happen.

“She comes really quickly.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks again, and you gasped when he spread your thighs with his large hands. You couldn’t believe he was going to go down on you right there, that he wanted to eat you out, to fuck you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, covering your mouth with your hand, when he licked a long stripe from your folds to your clit.

“I fucking love being the first, you know that? Your ex’s a fool.”

He circled your pussy with his lips and started licking, with the flat of his tongue.

“Oh god,” you whined, squeezing your breasts with your hands.

“Hands on my head, kid. Hold on to it.”

You'd always been annoyed by that nickname, but the fact that he was using it, right now, was the hottest thing ever. He spread your folds with his thumbs and pressed his broad shoulders against your thighs, pushing on them, while still lapping at your cunt. It was sloppy, messy, grunts falling from his mouth, as your hands were holding onto his head tightly. It was so different from touching yourself. The sensations coursing through your body were unfamiliar but so overwhelming, and you felt your limbs tremble and your hair stand up when his nose brushed at your clit.

“Clint, I… fuck?!”

The heat in your lower abdomen was burning you up alive, increasing with every lick of his tongue. He was taking his time and stopped just before you came. You were about to whine, when you saw him staring at your cunt.

“Look at that. She's so messy for me,” he said, eyes fixed on your pussy. “She likes it and wonders why she never got eaten before, right? Well, because this one,” he said, raising his eyes to you, “only dated dumbasses.”

He pushed in a finger, slowly, making you whimper. His digit was thick, much bigger than yours. He pumped it in and out a little, slowly, and smiled as he felt your pussy clench.

“You're gonna choke my cock so hard, baby,” he chuckled, then wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. Your fists clenched his curls hard, making him growl, but he didn't ask you to stop or to release your grip.

“Mmm,” he hummed, still sucking on your bud. “These fucking kids don't know what's good anymore. They just want to get their dick sucked, and thrust in a cunt 3 or 4 times before shooting their load. Jeez.”

He played with the tip of his tongue, teasing your most sensitive spot. You felt your pussy drip along his skin and down your crack.

When you already thought you were close to seeing stars, he pressed a second finger against your pussy, without pushing it inside. Just flattening it against your skin, below the entrance, then his tongue swirled around your clit.

“Oh fuck… oh fuck!!”

“Let it go. Come for me, give it to me,” he breathed between two licks.

“I don't know how, I… the feeling is so… so strong…”

“Just let it go, kid,” he said, sucking again, and you did, coming hard on his mouth, seeing stars for real, your hands clinging to his head.

His tongue rested on your clit until your shaking stopped completely, your legs and stomach relaxed. Only then he withdrew his fingers and licked your folds clean off your wetness. Your head was tilted to the side, resting on the pillow, your breathing slowly going down. You were unable to open your eyes, fully savoring that new sensation of post climax.

You felt the mattress rise and opened your eyes. He was standing beside the bed, pulling his boxers down. His cock sprang free, hard, heavy, its red tip oozing.

“I wanna suck you off,” you said, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Can I? I wanna learn this too.”

“I won't stop you. Go ahead,” he said, letting his arms rest at his sides.

“Tell me what to do,” you told him, eyes locked with his.

“Run your hand between your legs, get them wet. And jerk me off. Gently.” He watched you slowly running your fingers between your folds, lightly brushing your sensitive clit and you could swear his cock got even bigger when you looked back at it.

You wrapped your fingers around his shaft and he placed his hand on yours, setting the rhythm.

“Don't squeeze too hard, yeah, just like that. Keep going, wrist loose. Yeah, you're doing good.”

Your gaze was fixed on his cock, your mind on his breathing. You wanted to do it well, wanted him to praise you, to hear him breathe heavily. You dragged your fist up and down his length, slowly, and he growled.

“Now, spread the precum with your thumb, on the tip. Shit, yeah, just like that.”

His fingers still circled yours, but the pace was yours now. He placed his thumb on his slit before bringing it to your lips.

“Taste it,” he said. You looked up at him, circled his thumb with your lips and swirled your tongue around it, slowly.

“Good?” he asked.

You nodded and sucked until his thumb no longer tasted like him, then you moved his hand away, gently, darting your tongue to lick his crying tip.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you rounded your lips and took him in your mouth. You didn’t really know how to do it, but you were eager for his cock and needed to feel him more. Fully.

He placed his hand on your head, then said “that’s ok, keep it… keep it between your lips. Focus on the tip for now, suck on it. Yeah, that’s good, kid. Shit....”

You kept going and felt your pussy drooling again. You slid your fingers between your folds and stroked your clit, without thinking, without really realizing what was happening, just answering your physical needs.

“Yeah, rub it for me, baby. Get her ready for me.”

His hand was still on your head, but he wasn't forcing you. "Stay on the tip. You'll have plenty of time to learn more."

Your brain couldn't process his words and their implication, drunk from the taste of him running down your throat, from his praise, from your fingers sliding against your soaked folds.

“You're so fuckin’ pretty like this, sucking on my cock.”

You couldn't resist the temptation of taking him in a little more. He felt heavy on your tongue. His hips jerked and precum flooded your throat.

“Ok, that’s it, that’s it,” he said, cupping your cheek with his hand. “You ready?” he asked, his thumb brushing your skin. You looked up at him, and wondered if your eyes were as wild as his. If you looked a bit of a wreck, too. Probably.

“Mmm? You ready?” he repeated.

You snapped out of your thoughts and nodded.

“Ok, lie down.” His voice was low, calm.

You did as he said and he took place between your thighs, supporting his weight on one elbow.

“You still wanna do this?”

You nodded and he replied “okay,” grabbed his shaft and rubbed it against your wet folds before nestling it at your entrance.

“Look at you, so damn gorgeous, all ready to take my cock,” he added, and he pushed in, slowly, just a few inches. The feeling was already enough to make him lean his head back as he felt how tight you were, his strained neck just within reach of your mouth. You pressed a kiss there, right on his throbbing veins. Maybe to think about something else, to forget how stretched your folds were around his tip. When he pushed a little deeper you whined, sensing your body resisting him.

“Fuck, Clint… it’s…”

“I know. But you can do it,” he panted. “Just… just a little more.” He pushed in and didn’t stop this time, despite your body trying to keep him away. He bottomed out and grunted “fuck” and “shit” a few times, but you barely heard him, digging your nails into his strong biceps, until your discomfort passed.

His breathing was heavy, his jaw clenched hard, with him trying to not shoot his load already.

“Fuck, that’s it, shit… you feel so good, goddamn…”

He pulled back and pushed in again, slowly. “You ok?” he asked, his face lowered to yours. You nodded, your fingers gripping his skin a little less tightly.

“That jerk doesn’t know what he’s missed,” he murmured, pushing in and out slowly, his eyes closed again.

“I’m glad you did it,” you whispered, and he looked at you. “I'm glad I did it with you.”

“Mmm… let’s try to make you come on my cock, ok?”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re gonna give me one more, baby? Gonna clench on it?”

“I don't know… I don't know if I can.”

“You can. Just don’t overthink it, ok? Lick it for me,” he said, bringing his finger to your lips. Then he slid his hand between your two bodies, down to your clit. Rolling it gently, face lowered towards you.

“You're doing great, kid. You're perfect.”

You nodded. You felt good now, the pain already forgotten, and you were finally able to look at him, to really look at him, while he was thrusting into you. Looking at his hair, the drops of sweat that beaded on his forehead, his obsidian eyes. Your fingers ran up his arms up to his shoulders, his muscles rolling under your skin. You felt his cock twitch inside you at your touch, and he bit his lip.

“You like it?” you murmured.

He swallowed and said “yeah… yeah, I like it, honey. You feel so good around me.”

You closed your eyes for a few moments, his digit stroking you perfectly, then said “kiss me.”

“It's not a good idea,” he objected.

“You dick's inside me... Come on.” You didn't wait for him to respond and cupped his cheeks with your hands, pulling him closer until your noses and mouths brushed. You felt his breath against your lips and pressed them to his, whispering, "kiss me." He pulled back slightly, staring into your eyes, then wet his lips with his tongue before finally giving in, his hips rolling toward yours, his finger still stroking your clit. His lips carried the taste of you, and you wondered if he could taste his own on your tongue.

You loved the feeling of him inside you, his lips on yours, his tongue against yours. Your pussy clenched around him, and he whimpered. “You're so close. You feel it?”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he slid his free hand down to your breast, along your torso, then grabbed your hip. Rolling inside you, deliciously, perfectly.

“I… yeah, I feel it, Clint. It’s growing,” you said, your forehead against his.

“Come for me, baby. Come on my cock.”

You whined and let it happen, didn’t fight it like a few minutes earlier. You let your body shudder, your back arching, as his hand slipped into the crook behind it to hold you against him while he kept thrusting in.

“Shit, yeah… fuck!” he growled, and froze inside you before pushing in again, a little faster. “Shit, I’m… I’m gonna come, kid. Gonna fill you up.”

He grabbed your hips with his two hands, and barely slowed down as he came, long ropes of cum hitting the back of your cunt, grunts and moans escaping from the depths of his chest pressed against yours.

He pumped you full of his cum, and you felt every jolt of his cock inside you. The emotions you felt were so strong you could have cried, and you hugged him tight. He brushed your cheek and you kissed his neck one last time, then he lay on his side. You stayed on your back for a few moments, catching your breath.

“So what’s the deal with that guy?” Clint asked. “How did he get so into your head that you wanted to do it because of what he told you?”

You turned to him, and tried to explain your thought process. “He already broke my heart twice before that. That’s probably why I was so into him… stupid red flags attraction.”

It made Clint laugh and you did too, then kept talking. “But when he told me he didn’t want to be with me because I was a virgin, it pissed me off. I guess I wanted to get him back.”

“He’s a jerk. Don’t let him poison your thoughts like that.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I know.”

“Now… Why me?”

“Well, you’re hot. Yes, you are!” you insisted, seeing his disbelief. “And… I saw you with that woman the other night, at the bar. It was hot, the way you were touching her. I wanted you to touch me like this.”

“Mmm, ok. So… Was this what you were hoping for?”

“Yeah… Yeah. Choose the perfect guy.”

You got up and got dressed, remembering what he told you when you arrived.

“D’ya need a ride?”

“No, it's fine. I got my car.”

“Don't fall in love with me, kid.” he told you when you opened the door. “It’s just sex. Let’s not complicate things, ok?”

“Don't you fall in love with me, old man,” you said, letting him see your wide smile before you closed the door behind you.

You kept seeing each other, despite his words. It definitely wasn’t just sex. You didn't really talk about it, it just happened like that. You would mostly meet at his apartment, since your dad had been fired from his job and was often at the trailer.

One evening, you two went to a bar. One where you were sure you wouldn't run into your father.

"Oh, shit," you said, recognizing a familiar figure in the crowd.

“What?”

“It’s him, over there. My ex.”

“That guy?” he asked, pointing at him. “Let’s piss him off, kid.”

“Hi,” Mike said when he saw you, a slightly uneasy smile on his lips. “It's been a while since I saw you.” He looked at Clint and frowned, then said “you huh… wanna hang out sometime?”

Clint put his arm around your shoulder, letting you know he was here for you, glare fixed on your ex. You squeezed Clint's hand in yours, then said “no… I prefer experienced men, you know?” You hesitated, then added, “and every time I scratch my nails down his back, I hope you feel it.” The way his jaw dropped was worth all the tears you'd cried for him.

You looked up at Clint and smiled at him, then said, "let’s go."

other virginity loss fics:

After (qz!Joel) A summer with the Millers (dbf!Tommy x reader x Joel)

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary

npt (some moots who might like it ❤️)

@iknowisoundcrazy @sawymredfox @joelmillerisapunk @itwasntimethatdidit40 @arcanefox207 @baronessvonglitter @tateypots @604to647 @schnarfer @yxtkiwiyxt @iamasaddie

#fic rec #clint freaky tales #ppcu fic

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arcanefox207 · 3 days ago

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I love it so much!! And the lateness actually made this such a nice surprise I was not expecting today. Thank you so much, I love it 🥹🥹

Adriana, congratulations on your follower milestone!! You are a lovely and talented person and so deserving of celebration. I am grateful to have made a friend in you over here. Love you baby 🥰🥰

Can I request... 1,000 Sleepless Nights with Joel Miller? 😅

Thank you my dear Ally and please forgive my lateness ❤️

I’m very fortunate to know you and have befriended you, babe!

#look at what my talented friend made #follower milestone celebration

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arcanefox207 · 4 days ago

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arcanefox207 · 4 days ago

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Gideon, thanks so much, what an honor to be so high on the whore scale! I love it. I wanted to make him extra filthy 😏😏

Don’t Make Me Ask Again

DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader Explicit 18+ MDNI | 2.2k WC | AO3

Summary: Teasing your dad’s friend has its consequences. (A filthy PWP for your merriment)

Warnings: DBF!Joel, Undisclosed age gap (but its pretty big, reader is college aged and Joel is late 40’s/50’s), Dubcon, Finger Fucking, Edging, Somnophelia, Cum Play, Masturbation, Depravity. Joel is an asshole.

Notes: Huge thank you to @whocaresstillthelouvre for being an outstanding beta editor. Also huge thanks to @magpiepills for reading and giving me courage.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3 | N O T I F S

You knew you were playing with fire, but it didn’t stop you. In fact, the taboo of it all gave you a high that you couldn’t stop chasing.

Once you caught him looking at you it was game on.

You were home for summer break and found out that your dad’s new buddy also happened to be irresistibly handsome. He was always over at your dad’s house. Having a beer (or six) together after work or sitting by the pool on a hot evening, watching whatever game was on. He lived just down the street, so it was nothing for him to come over. He would even spend the night often enough, falling asleep on the couch after too many drinks or a game that went too late.

He was a total asshole too, just like your dad. You liked the challenge. It gave you something to do while being stuck there all summer.

Night after night you shot those flirty eyes at him. Teasing. Dangling yourself in front of him when your dad wasn’t looking. Wearing the sluttiest of outfits and brushing up against him whenever he was in the way of where you suddenly needed to be. Sure, he was polite being a guest in your house, but he firmly removed himself whenever you got too close.

You saw how he’d look away with a flushed face. How his jeans would tighten whenever you bent over in front of him to tie up your hair. How he’d stir in his seat when you were teasing him with your suggestive conversations on the phone that you knew he was within earshot of.

You wondered how far you could push him before he couldn’t help but put his hands on you.

You never thought he would actually do it. It was all harmless fun to pass the time.

Sooner or later you were going to find out.

Tonight was it.

–

He hovered over you, caging you against the bed. He was still fully clothed except for his unzipped jeans with his cock straining against his boxers.

“Gonna teach you a lesson,” he grunts as he pulls out his thick cock and it slaps against your stomach. It was already swollen as he stroked it and sat back, straddling your waist.

He was massive and you eyed him with an insatiable want. His gorgeous, girthy shaft complimented his firm and broad body. The greys lining his patchy beard matched the messy thatch that trailed up to his lower belly and disappeared under his shirt. He was easily several decades older than you. Time had been kind to him, rewarding him with a body that just got better with age.

And you did want him. You wanted him badly. You thought about him night after night while you got yourself off. Now that he was on top of you in your own bed you had to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

But he really was such an asshole. Holding his cock in his hand in front of you to tease and watching your eyes widen with want.

“Nah, you ain’t getting this. Not for how you been actin’,” he scolds as he shifts his weight off of you and kneels between your legs.

You're lying in front of him, helpless and fully at his mercy, wearing just an oversized t-shirt and some modest cotton panties that are lacey around the waistband. Eyes still hazy from being abruptly woken up in the middle of the night. You weren’t exactly expecting company.

Your bedroom wasn’t very dark with the streetlight peering in your window and the full moon bathing you both in its radiance.

He uses his knees to press your legs open and make room for himself as he drags his free hand down your thigh, pushing you open wider. You don’t know what his exact intentions are but you know he is the one in control.

“Joel…” you whine, and he doesn’t like that.

“What are you gonna do, call for daddy?” he taunts. “Let him see what a slut his little girl is?” He stops and looks between your legs, dragging his finger along the seam of your panties. “And how you’re dripping for my cock?”

No, you weren’t going to do anything but take what he gave you and he knew it.

He sits up between your parted legs and looks down at your pathetic, needy body begging to be filled up.

He pumps his cock. “Show me,” he demands, mid-stroke. The way his wrist flicks as he tugs on his shaft is mesmerizing.

He sits back on his legs while you shimmy out of your panties and toss your shirt onto the floor. As you lay back on the mattress his eyes scan over you, taking in your perfect breasts and the softness of your youthful skin.

He lets go of his cock and leans down, putting his face right in your cunt. You can feel his hot breath hovering just above your clit but he is careful not to touch. You writhe towards him, begging for some friction. He gives you nothing.

He smiles a wicked smile as he picks his head up to look at you. His eyes lock with yours and you can see the darkness spreading over him. He wasn’t going to give you what you wanted and he was taking great pleasure in this payback.

He crawls back over you slowly, letting his cock press against you as he hovers face to face again. His broadness caging you in and sending shivers through your body at the sight of his dominance.

He uses his hand to engulf your own and guides it to your clit, pressing your fingertips into it and rubbing. He never loses eye contact with you, studying the way your mouth hangs open as he forces your hand.

A moan escapes your lips at his perverse control over you. His throbbing heat searing into you, daring you to grind against him. And oh how badly you want to take the bait.

“Show me how you touch yourself, little slut.” His voice is intimidatingly low and gravelly. He lets up the pressure on your hand once he is convinced you will play along.

He maneuvers back down the bed to get a better view as you circle your clit. He grabs your legs roughly and pulls you up close to him so they are wide open and hanging over his thighs. His swollen cock standing at full attention just inches from you. Just out of reach. A tease. A prize if you play his game. You slow down your movements, as you start to feel the heat inside you surging.

“Sweetheart, you can do better than that,” he taunts as he pulls off his shirt, generously giving you more of his body to drink in. The ridges in his lean muscles catching the moonlight. He looks sinfully delicious and you ache for his body against yours. You want to make him happy, give him a reason to reward you with his touch.

He leans forward and puts his weight is on his palms just by your hips, his cock pushing against your wet hole. His broadness looming over you. Leering at your neediness. The sight of him. The feel of his spongy head knocking at your entrance. It was too much.

It was embarrassing. Degrading. It turned you on.

“Don’t make me ask again,” he threatens, grabbing your hand again. “Wanna see you stuff that pretty hole.” He pushes two of your fingers together and brings them to his mouth, sucking them slowly and getting them good and wet. It sends shivers through your body imagining that mouth on your pussy instead.

He’s rougher this time, guiding your hand back down to your entrance. You can sense his patience running out. He pushes your pliant fingers inside without warning, fucking you in and out. Slow and hard. Until he lets go and watches you take over.

You can see from the glint in his eyes how much it is turning him on, watching you finger yourself in front of him was intoxicating to him. Your innocent moans singing into his ears.

“Those pitiful little hands can’t get shit done” he grunts, dragging his hand up your thigh and curling around your stomach. The rough pads of his fingertips leave you trembling in their wake as he drags them lower.

He pulls your hand from its warm haven and eyes your swollen clit, begging for touch. He presses his thumb into it and circles it, making you moan. Finally giving you something.

“Please…” you beg. Eager to feel him on you.

“Needy thing.” He stops circling and brings his hand lower, dragging his middle finger along your entrance and then spreading his fingers through your slick.

“Go ahead.” He positions your hand around his and presses his middle and index fingers together like a gun. “You can use mine,” he commands.

You realize he still isn’t going to fuck you. No, he wants you to move his hand and use his body to get off. He knew you would do it too because he was making you so desperate for any way to release.

You wrap your hand around his wrist and guide him towards your entrance. Your other hand grips just above his watch in a desperate attempt to hold on.

You are already so close, your body sucks him inside. The thickness feels so good as your pussy stretches to take him. You wince as you take in more and more of him, underestimating how thick he is. Everything about Joel Miller is so damn thick.

“Goddamn you’re tight” he smiles crookedly as he feels your walls clamping onto him as you thrust him in and out.

You can sense a shift in the room that's palpable. He was having his fun with you, but he was getting greedy. Getting off on watching you struggle to take his fingers. He wanted to stuff you with his cock and show you what a real tight fit is, but he has no intention of giving you that satisfaction. You had to learn a lesson about teasing.

He couldn’t resist curling his fingers inside you, prodding at your fleshy walls. Your hand was still around his but he was the one moving it now. His free hand rapidly stroking his length, thumbing over the swollen tip and God you need him so badly.

“Joel, please!” you beg.

You are on the edge, ready to come harder than you ever have before.

“Bet you can’t handle three,” he challenges, giving you no time to respond. He’s already decided it's happening whether you want it to or not. You do want it. You want anything he will give you.

He groans as he adds a third finger and you flinch at the stretch. You hold onto his forearm for dear life as his fingers fuck into you hard while he fucks into his own fist.

Now he can’t help himself from taking over entirely. He thrusts into you, deeper and deeper. Feeling your walls convulse around him as you reach your limit.

Finally he gives you permission.

“Come. Come now,” he snarls at you. Your orgasm has you gasping for breath as he relentlessly fingers you through it, chasing his own release. You soak his fingers and moan his name, your walls fluttering around him. Your nails claw into his skin, as you’re fucked out and overwhelmed by sweet ecstasy.

He comes hard and loud and you are certain your dad is passed out drunk since he hasn’t broken down your door yet.

Joel’s hot spend hits your stomach and pussy. There is so much of it, he paints you in his release. Claiming you.

A primal need surges inside him, desperate to leave you with his seed. You see the shift in his eyes and he can’t stop himself. His cum drips and pools around his knuckles as he fucks it inside you in a frenzy, needing his spend as deep as his fingers will let him.

“Joel, fuck,” you protest at the initial shock of what he is doing. He doesn’t even ask if you are protected, he just uses his brute force to thrust his cum inside.

It’s obscene.

And it feels so good. You are as depraved as he is. You welcome him inside your body wanting more, swallowing up whatever he gives you as you come down from your high.

His cum leaks out of you as he withdraws his fingers, but he stuffs as much back into your gaping hole as he can until his primal drive wanes.

He gets off the bed and puts his shirt back on, leaving you laying there in his mess.

“Next time you pull that shit again, I’ll make you sorry.” he threatens as he zips up his pants.

You smile in the dark and close your legs tightly, feeling the ache from his rough touch.

“I’m counting on it.”

Dividers @anitalenia / Banner by me

WIP Taglist: @lotusbxtch @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @megangovier @vickie5446 @baronessvonglitter @covetyou @evolnoomym @milla-frenchy @getitoutofmymindwrites @giowritess @almostfoxglove

Tagging fellow Joel girlies and mutuals I hope will enjoy this or know a friend who might 🙏🏻 Please anytime if you don’t want to be tagged just let me know. Thank you and love you all 🩷

@pedgito @slimybeth69 @syd-djarin @wheresarizona @frannyzooey @jolapeno @joelsdagger @joelmillerisapunk @for-a-longlongtime @tightjeansjavi @bonezone44 @wethairjoel @fuckyeahdindjarin @beefrobeefcal @aurorawritestoescape @beardedjoel @hellishjoel @toxicanonymity @galaxyedging @perotovar @pearlessance @pedropeach @cavillscurls @sawymredfox @moonlitbirdie @mothandpidgeon @604to647 @yourcoolauntie @jessthebaker @ozarkthedog @iamasaddie @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @itwasntimethatdidit40 @sin-djarin @schnarfer

#lovely reblogs #dbf!joel #Joel miller smut

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arcanefox207 · 4 days ago

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— I am not an orator or a politician. I am a soldier. I have seen bravery in men and women during war. And even once in this arena. So if you ask anything of the gods, ask for that same bravery. PEDRO PASCAL as GENERAL ACACIUS in GLADIATOR II (2024), dir. Ridley Scott

#perfect for my acacius fic inspo #furiously writing my dark!acacius as we speak

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arcanefox207 · 4 days ago

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oh we are so not gonna be okay

#I am not ready 😭😭😭

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arcanefox207 · 4 days ago

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Milla!! Omg your reaction is everything I hoped for. This fic went a little off the rails as I wrote it, but I'm glad people seem to be enjoying it 😅😅

Don’t Make Me Ask Again

DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader Explicit 18+ MDNI | 2.2k WC | AO3

Summary: Teasing your dad’s friend has its consequences. (A filthy PWP for your merriment)

Notes: Huge thank you to @whocaresstillthelouvre for being an outstanding beta editor. Also huge thanks to @magpiepills for reading and giving me courage.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3 | N O T I F S

You knew you were playing with fire, but it didn’t stop you. In fact, the taboo of it all gave you a high that you couldn’t stop chasing.

Once you caught him looking at you it was game on.

He was a total asshole too, just like your dad. You liked the challenge. It gave you something to do while being stuck there all summer.

You wondered how far you could push him before he couldn’t help but put his hands on you.

You never thought he would actually do it. It was all harmless fun to pass the time.

Sooner or later you were going to find out.

Tonight was it.

–

He hovered over you, caging you against the bed. He was still fully clothed except for his unzipped jeans with his cock straining against his boxers.

“Gonna teach you a lesson,” he grunts as he pulls out his thick cock and it slaps against your stomach. It was already swollen as he stroked it and sat back, straddling your waist.

But he really was such an asshole. Holding his cock in his hand in front of you to tease and watching your eyes widen with want.

“Nah, you ain’t getting this. Not for how you been actin’,” he scolds as he shifts his weight off of you and kneels between your legs.

Your bedroom wasn’t very dark with the streetlight peering in your window and the full moon bathing you both in its radiance.

“Joel…” you whine, and he doesn’t like that.

No, you weren’t going to do anything but take what he gave you and he knew it.

He sits up between your parted legs and looks down at your pathetic, needy body begging to be filled up.

He pumps his cock. “Show me,” he demands, mid-stroke. The way his wrist flicks as he tugs on his shaft is mesmerizing.

He crawls back over you slowly, letting his cock press against you as he hovers face to face again. His broadness caging you in and sending shivers through your body at the sight of his dominance.

A moan escapes your lips at his perverse control over you. His throbbing heat searing into you, daring you to grind against him. And oh how badly you want to take the bait.

“Show me how you touch yourself, little slut.” His voice is intimidatingly low and gravelly. He lets up the pressure on your hand once he is convinced you will play along.

It was embarrassing. Degrading. It turned you on.

You can see from the glint in his eyes how much it is turning him on, watching you finger yourself in front of him was intoxicating to him. Your innocent moans singing into his ears.

He pulls your hand from its warm haven and eyes your swollen clit, begging for touch. He presses his thumb into it and circles it, making you moan. Finally giving you something.

“Please…” you beg. Eager to feel him on you.

“Needy thing.” He stops circling and brings his hand lower, dragging his middle finger along your entrance and then spreading his fingers through your slick.

“Go ahead.” He positions your hand around his and presses his middle and index fingers together like a gun. “You can use mine,” he commands.

You wrap your hand around his wrist and guide him towards your entrance. Your other hand grips just above his watch in a desperate attempt to hold on.

“Goddamn you’re tight” he smiles crookedly as he feels your walls clamping onto him as you thrust him in and out.

“Joel, please!” you beg.

You are on the edge, ready to come harder than you ever have before.

He groans as he adds a third finger and you flinch at the stretch. You hold onto his forearm for dear life as his fingers fuck into you hard while he fucks into his own fist.

Now he can’t help himself from taking over entirely. He thrusts into you, deeper and deeper. Feeling your walls convulse around him as you reach your limit.

Finally he gives you permission.

He comes hard and loud and you are certain your dad is passed out drunk since he hasn’t broken down your door yet.

Joel’s hot spend hits your stomach and pussy. There is so much of it, he paints you in his release. Claiming you.

“Joel, fuck,” you protest at the initial shock of what he is doing. He doesn’t even ask if you are protected, he just uses his brute force to thrust his cum inside.

It’s obscene.

And it feels so good. You are as depraved as he is. You welcome him inside your body wanting more, swallowing up whatever he gives you as you come down from your high.

His cum leaks out of you as he withdraws his fingers, but he stuffs as much back into your gaping hole as he can until his primal drive wanes.

He gets off the bed and puts his shirt back on, leaving you laying there in his mess.

“Next time you pull that shit again, I’ll make you sorry.” he threatens as he zips up his pants.

You smile in the dark and close your legs tightly, feeling the ache from his rough touch.

“I’m counting on it.”

Dividers @anitalenia / Banner by me

WIP Taglist: @lotusbxtch @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @megangovier @vickie5446 @baronessvonglitter @covetyou @evolnoomym @milla-frenchy @getitoutofmymindwrites @giowritess @almostfoxglove

Tagging fellow Joel girlies and mutuals I hope will enjoy this or know a friend who might 🙏🏻 Please anytime if you don’t want to be tagged just let me know. Thank you and love you all 🩷

#lovely reblogs #Joel miller smut #dbf!joel

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arcanefox207 · 7 days ago

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Ooooh this was hot! 🥵🥵

communication breakdown

pairing- clint (freaky tales) x reader

rating- E (MDNI 18+)

warnings- dom/ sub dynamics, mean!clint, derogatory name calling (slut, whore), oral sex (f&m receiving), phallic-shaped straw (bachelorette party), cannon-typical violence (clint gonna punch some guy), hair-pulling, light cum play, choking, reader has vagina and breasts, hair can be pulled, no other physical characteristics, he gets nicer at the end.

a/n- it is 2am. I couldn’t stop writing. The voices told me to write it and post it tonight. Reblogs, comments and likes are all appreciated <3

It had been a week of miscommunication and clashing schedules.

Sure, it wasn’t the first time he was travelling for work at the opposite end of the country, but this time was different.

On Wednesday you knelt on your shared bed, lacy red set with stockings barely holding together as you await your nightly FaceTime call.

If the old you could see you now, she’d be floored. After a string of nothing guys who had you questioning if sex was really your ‘thing’, Clint had awoken a confident, beautiful woman who’d lay dormant for years.

Expressive, wanton, and hungry, you simply couldn’t get enough of his imposing, sturdy body, grabbing and insatiable for your own.

There was a danger, an edge when you went out with him. His face, steely and intimidating on the brink of violence. The drive to protect and serve you being gospel above all else.

What really hooked you was his need. The need to touch, smell, and taste you at all times. The feeling of being craved made your skin vibrate whenever he was around.

Forty-five minutes later your phone lights up. A flannel and sweats now replacing the hard boning of your lingerie. The fire of want dwindling to an irritating itch sitting low in your belly.

Clint’s hair is unruly, clearly been shoved and pulled at with his thick fingers. “Baby, I’m sorry.” His tone is genuine, his voice soft but with a coarse rumble that tells you that it’s been a helluva day.

Friday was no better.

Worse actually.

The row of tequila shots lined the bar, salt and lime laying next to each one. The sash, laying across your shoulders, reading ‘sister of the Groom’ in gold lettering, was similar to the one worn by your soon to be ‘sister in law’, who was enjoying the 90s club night her bridesmaids had found for her bachelorette party.

Sliding your phone from your back pocket, you were about to snap a picture of her downing the x’th shot of the night, balancing your drink with the dick shaped straw in your other hand.

Thumb tapping on the button, you accidentally decline an incoming call. It’s not until you swipe to see the 10 missed calls that your stomach knots.

Quickly, you find yourself a place where the bar meets the wall hoping it’s quiet enough to make the call.

It rings once, the image of Clint in the darkened front seat of his car, jaw popped, appears.

His phone must be in his lap, or maybe at the stick shift. The picture of him from this angle feeling familiar and awakening something within you.

“Baby, I’m so sor-“

“The fuck are you?”

You flinch, not understanding the anger in his voice. The camera shakes slightly, hinting at his fury, making that knot rise and lodge itself in your throat.

The bartender speaks to you, mistaking your position for you being next to be served. Their voice, paired with the harsh baseline thumping around you, gives Clint a clue.

“Are you at the fucking club right now?” His eyes crinkle at the sides as he brings the phone closer to himself.

“Yes, I’m at the fucking club. I’m at the bachelorette party.” Your voice mocks him, aiming the camera down so he can see your sash and cock straw.

“So I come home, early, to an empty house, like a jackass, and you’re what? Shaking your ass like a fucking whore?”

Air whooshes through your lips, somewhere between a gasp and a chuckle as you stare at him as he throws a tantrum.

Along with this craving you had for each other came a grotesque and carnal jealousy.

You both felt it.

His line of work makes him interact with people that would do anything to get off the hook. It bothered you, sure, but you knew that you belonged to each other. Nothing would get in the way of that.

Clint’s jealousy was always tangible. Something that could be held, thrown, used as a weapon.

Often, that jealousy led to the most heinous, visceral experiences of your life. With you on your knees, on your back, or pinned down on your face, begging for mercy.

It was everything you’d ever wanted.

Searching with your tongue, you find the straw and drink down a mouthful. The liquor burns, giving you a head rush and the confidence you’d need to get through this conversation.

“What am I meant to be? A fucking mind reader? I didn’t know you were coming early. I fucking told you about this party. Don’t be mad that you hurt your own fucking feelings.”

“The fuck is that?”

You narrow your eyes, cheeks lifting and head shaking softly, not following what the problem is.

“That thing in your mouth. Is that a dick?”

Your lips twitch but you try with all your might to restrain your smirk. Putting the straw in your mouth again, you hollow your cheeks as you drain the rest of the liquid.

“Mhm, yeah it is.” Lips close around the tip of the plastic, running it back and forth over your lips.

“You jealous of a piece of plasti-“

“Nice straw, sweetheart.” Your eyes snap up, peering over the top of your phone to a tall, light haired man. His stubble is neatly trimmed, blue eyes twinkling as he winks at you.

“Although, I got the real deal right here if you want a go?” Rounding your eyes at him, you place your glass, cock straw in tow, on the top of the bar and minisculely shake your head . Silently pleading with him to shut the fuck up.

Three wooly beeps sound from your speaker, signifying the end of the call and, possibly, the end of this guy's life.

Broad, leather clad shoulders barge past anyone in his way.

Ears ringing from the stupid fucking music, he scans around the outskirts of the room for a light or reflection that would lead him to you.

From behind him, he hears a gaggle of whoops and cheers. All loud. All distinctly feminine.

Spinning on his heel, he sees the feather boas, silken sashes and fucking cock straws before his eyes lock onto your figure.

That dress, black and mesh, shows your slip underneath and clings to your full rounded ass.

Mine

Clint stalks, b-lining straight to you.

He knows what you’ll smell like, how your sweet and musky perfume sticks to your neck.

How it’ll make his eyes flutter as he presses his nose to that spot right behind your ear.

How you always sprits a little on your panties as you’re getting ready, and, how, after he tells you all the filthy things he wants to do to you, it mixes with the heady smell of your pussy.

Jaw clenched and dick hard he’s five steps away as he sees a lanky fuck come and whisper something in your ear.

The baseline is miraculously drowned out by the blood in his ears as the guy touches your lower back.

Clint grabs the guy by his dumbfuck polo neck collar and shoves him aside. His knee comes into direct contact with his stomach as the lighter haired man bends in the middle.

Crouching slightly, Clint grabs the guy's collar again, enough so he’ll look him in the eye. “If you even look at her again, I will fucking kill you.” He shoves him to the ground and turns, eyes meeting yours in an instant.

With hurried goodbyes, you leave, dragged by the wrist and shoved into the passenger seat of Clint’s car.

The air fizzes and pops on your drive home.

Every breath and twitch laboured. Each threatening to ignite the stick of dynamite in the driver's seat.

Clint’s giant, hairy hands white knuckle the steering wheel. Every adjustment highlighting his strong chorded forearms, his leather jacket flung in your direction as you left the club.

A little too harshly you come to a stop, the humming of the cooling engine reflecting the anger radiating off your man.

The lighter makes his face glow orange before throwing you back into darkness. Clint, taking his first drag, allows his head to fall to the headrest with his first exhale.

“Get inside.” It’s a whisper but no less demanding or threatening in tone.

You’re not sure how long it’s been, but as you stand there in front of your bathroom vanity, cleansing your face of your well worn makeup, you hear the front door slam and lock shut.

Deft, even, thuds echo through your hallway getting duller as he reaches your carpeted bedroom. The scream from your door hinges signalling that he’s right behind you.

Your eyes flit to his in the mirror, only for a moment the heat in his stare making you flinch.

Your palms grab either side of the sink rim as you bow your head to rinse away the bubbles from your makeup remover. Patting yourself dry, you feel his heat gaining on you.

He hovers, so much so that you feel the atoms between you bounce, collide and crash together.

A prelude as to what is to come.

“Look at me.”

You do. Finding the strength to still the slight tremble you’ve developed.

Normally, his eyes are comforting. A hot espresso on a cold winter’s morning. Now, they’re a hooded, black, midnight sky. Your overhead light reflects off them and serves as the stars.

“Get on your fucking knees.”

As if dealing with a wild animal, you make slow, legato movements.

First, you turn, eyes still glued to him. Then, slowly, your knees sink down, down until they hit the biting tiles below. Your short, pink, silken pyjamas serve no protection.

Exhaling, you roll your shoulders back, letting your palms lay flat on your thighs as you sit on your haunches.

Clint maintains eye contact as the clink of metal on metal bounces around the bathroom. He unbuttons his jeans, only pushing them and his underwear to below his heavy balls.

The temptation is too much, so you give in. His thick, uncut cock is solid as a rock. The pink, sensitive crown of his dick weeping as he squeezes himself at the base and tugs three long strokes.

“You know, I came here all nice tonight…” He bumps the tip of his dick in the divot between your chin and bottom lip, a silent demand to open your mouth. “Got you flowers. Wearin that cologne you really like. I wanted to surprise you.”

You oblige, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to capacity, the saliva already streaming its way to the tip of your tongue.

Steadily, Clint feeds you his cock. Exhaling, he shoves himself in slowly but all the way, so that your nose is tickled by the short curls at the base of him.

As a reflex, you swallow, causing your man to clench his jaw as if this pace is causing him pain.

“But you were at the club with a plastic cock in your mouth. Bet you found that real fuckin’ funny, huh?”

You try to move, to argue your position, defend your actions but you’re stuck. Clint’s thumb and forefinger pinching the hinge of your jaw. Shaking your head, he ensures your eyes are on him again.

“You sit there like a good fucking slut and do what you’re told.”

As you nod quickly, agreeing to your fate, his fingers shift. The pad of his thumb rests on the front column of your throat, pressing firmly as the other four fingers hold you still at your nape.

Gracefully, he begins to move. Hips pumping painfully slowly and his thumb pressing evenly as his cock slides in and out of your mouth.

As he moves faster, his eyes flutter and roll back, the grip on your neck getting tighter. The musky smell, so distinctly him, gets stronger as your wet hot mouth dribbles over his dick and down his balls.

Selfishly, you lose yourself. All time and place dissipates as you grab ahold of the denim on his thighs urging him to move faster. Moaning, slurping and gurgling, bubbles form at the corners of your mouth, as he begins to fuck your face.

A sharp, needle-like sting radiates through your skull as his fingers thread through your hair and yank roughly.

“You like that don’t you? You like me using you?” He tugs again when you don’t answer.

“Mmmm mhmmm” you gargle, his thick cock making your jaw ache.

“I bet if I were to check your lil shorts she’d be fucking crying out for me. Y’know why?” His thrusts get faster, more shallow but still making sure to get your throat on every third or fourth stroke, making your eyelids heavy.

“Cause she’s a good fucking girl. She knows she’s mine.” You hum in agreement, nodding slowly and sucking in your cheeks. His salty taste getting stronger and tip more swollen as you bring him closer to release.

The thick fingers of his other hand thread through your hair and join his other as he sets a grueling pace.

Pulling and palming your hair, he takes exactly what he wants from you. Not needing your expertise nor enthusiasm as he uses you as a form of sweet punishment for your earlier transgressions.

Yanking and pulling you by your hair, he makes your mouth pop off from his twitching dick.

“Y’see if I were to give you my come, that’s exactly what you’d want.”

Clint continues holding your hair in one hand but strokes his spit coated cock roughly with the other. The pretty, pink head of his cock pumps against your swollen, stretched out lips as his jaw tightens.

“Take out your tits.”

As requested, you slip both delicate straps down your shoulders and pull at the neckline of your vest revealing the heavy, neglected sweetness of your chest.

It only takes a few more yanks as Clint comes all over you. Hot, continuous spurts of his come cover your soft pillowy chest and neck.

“Open.”

With an index finger, he sweeps through the trail he’s left and then pushes it into your mouth, letting you suck it clean.

Repeating his earlier action he hinges your jaw, demanding your release and full submission to his will.

Sucking in his cheeks and tongue he gathers spit in his mouth, holding it there whilst maintaining eye contact before forcefully spitting into your mouth.

He watches for a moment, his saliva slowly melting away on your tongue before closing your mouth for you and watching your throat bob as you swallow it down.

His eyes, now lacking some of the earlier mirth but still darkened, go to your chest. Delicately he corrects your neckline and straps, the remnants of his gift seeping through immediately, turning the baby pink into a rose colour.

Reverently, his palm rests on your cheek as the softer, calmer beast fronts for a moment.

“Go into the room. Lay on the bed on your back.”

Doing as you’re told, it doesn’t take long for him to join you in the bedroom, his index fingers hooking into the elastic of your shorts but not pulling them down.

“I thought about tasting you all week, yknow.” He pushes the hem of your vest upwards, exposing the soft, roundness of your stomach.

As if a reflex, he places three, opened-mouth kisses to your tummy, lower each time before his nose rests on your mound.

Exhaling audibly, he finds himself chuckling as he proves his earlier suspicions right. A mix of your perfume and your wet, hot, cunt about to send him into a frenzy.

Through your silky shorts, he presses his tongue against your clit, keeping it there, unmoving, so as to soak through the fabric.

When he’s satisfied by the changing hue, he brings his face closer to you still, his nose presses right against your clit. That heady, wet scent making him moan as he inhales you.

“You’re always so good for me.” He shifts the fabric to the side licking a long, deep stripe up your folds and then back down.

“So pretty and wet.” Hooking the fabric with his index finger, he reveals your puffy clit and blows on it, making your back bow as your hips shift upwards.

“I’m sorry I had to go away.” He kitten licks the engorged bud, making your skin flare and your breathing more ragged.

Enjoying your reaction he swirls his tongue across you again, stopping and pulling back for an instant to see your tight little hole flicker and pulse for him.

Then, grabbing you by the tops of your thighs he pulls your pussy to him as he suctions his lips and tongue onto you.

“Fuck baby, I missed you so much.” You begin to babble incoherently, grinding down on to his face, your manicured nails threading through his thick curls and scratching his scalp.

“You always know what I need. You are so good to me.” You affirm him. Apologising for the scare you gave him and thanking him for always coming to get you.

You prop yourself on an elbow, needing to see what you’ve missed all this week, already mourning the next time it’ll happen.

“Look at me, please baby.”

His eyes pop open, dark and drunk as he moves his tongue to your hole. Licking, slurping, kissing, his tongue and jaw work in tandem as his beautiful nose bumps against your clit with a steady even pressure.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Give it to me.” Your hips keep grinding, your flesh poking through the gaps in between his fingers as he eats you and coaxes you to oblivion.

Writhing and jerking, your body screams for him as his hot tongue licks and flicks against your twitching clit.

“Clint, fuck”

Rutting your hips in the same rhythm as he licks, it sounds like you’ve been plunged into the deep end as licks up every last drop you give him.

It takes a few moments but you eventually open your eyes. Your broad tower of a man pulling at the collar of his shirt and shucking off his pants, ready for a proper homecoming.

np tags: @gothcsz @ovaryacted @guiltyasdave @stellamarielu

dont copy/ paste this into ai

#fic rec #Clint freaky tales #ppcu fic

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