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guess-my-next-obsession · 5 days ago

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blue. | chapter six

pairing: bfd!joel miller x curvy!fem!reader

chapter warnings: series is 18+ only, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader's age is set at 25, joel is 40), best friend's dad trope, reader works at a bikini bar (race is a blank slate but reader is described as being curvy/plus size and is very much comfortable in her skin), divorced!joel, dual POV, pining, fantasizing, mild angst, dirty talk, soft dom!joel, fingering, pussy pronouns, one use of brat, dry humping, brief hand necklace, joel cleans up after himself 🌶️🌶️🌶️/🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

word count: 6.2k

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JOEL

“Hey, baby girl,” I say, winded from rushing to fix my appearance and the gut punch of guilt that is having my daughter in front of me mere minutes after having my face buried between her best friend’s thighs.

Sarah hangs up the phone with a murmured goodbye before breezing past me into the house. “Sorry I didn’t call. I’ve been worried sick all night and decided to just drive down early this morning and check on her. Is she okay? She sounded off just now when I called her.”

“Yeah,” I lie, clearing my throat before I gesture towards the main hallway. “She’s in your room, I think.”

“Yeah, she said she’s getting in the shower really quick before she and I head over to grab some of her stuff from the apartment,” she says as she settles into the sofa while I stand awkwardly by the front door. “You should come with us. We could use a truck.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I step further into the room and sit myself down on the leather recliner that’s tacky by modern standards but way too fucking comfortable to get rid of. “Yeah. Guess I could help. I’ll try to rope Tommy into comin’ along, too.”

“Sweet,” she beams, clapping her hands onto her thighs as she stands up. “I’m gonna use your bathroom real quick. Can you bring in my bags?”

“Sure thing, kiddo.” I force a smile and watch as she skips off towards the stairs, clueless as to what was going on just before she got here.

Betrayal. Shameful, relationship altering betrayal for everyone involved.

And yet, this feeling—the gnawing, growly beast inside of me that craves more of the woman naked in my daughter’s shower right now—lingers.

“So,” Sarah’s voice is gentle as you sit in the passenger seat of her brand new Kia. A stark contrast to your old truck that’s now been put out of its misery. But that’s what majoring in marketing and landing a big time job in Dallas straight out of school gets you. “How are you doing with everything? And don’t do that bullshit where you pretend you’re fine but on the inside it’s a garbage fire.”

“Well…I’m fucking stressed.” You breathe in deeply and then sigh it all back out, relaxing into the leather seat despite the way your skin is sticking to the material. Wearing a longline sports bra that covers only half of your torso and a pair of high waisted spandex biker shorts, you’ve got plenty of skin on display for the Texas sun to scorch. But it was the only clean set of clothes in your after work bag, and that’s all you brought with you in your rush to leave your apartment.

Sarah nods earnestly and glances at you with the kindest eyes you think you’ve ever seen on a person. It makes your stomach feel sick with the dead weight of what you and Joel were doing just before she arrived.

God, what a close call. If she’d only had a key to her father’s house, your entire relationship would be forever altered. Ruined. Done.

You blink your eyes and turn away, gazing out of the passenger window. “Between needing to find a car and a new place to live, I’m on the brink of a meltdown. And what’s even worse is that I’m pretty certain the dude who broke in had to have been a customer at work. I mean, who else would target me and only me in that entire complex? I don’t go out, I don’t make enemies. I go to work and come home, but apparently that’s not enough to keep myself out of trouble.”

Sarah frowns and reaches a hand over the center console to rest on top of yours. “I know you haven’t wanted to in the past, but maybe it’s time for you to start looking at getting a different job. That interior design degree is sitting there collecting dust while you bust your ass at a dive bar.”

You know she doesn’t mean to be condescending, but it still hits your ear that way. Sarah’s the type who’s never had to work her way through the grimy parts of life to achieve her goals. She was a member of the National Honor Society in high school, got accepted into college with a full scholarship, and never had so much as a part-time job to worry about during either points in her life. Her father clearly did an excellent job at making sure she was set up for success, but she fails to understand that not everybody had it so easy.

Your parents struggled all throughout their life to get by. It’s what their parents did, and so on. Struggle is just a part of your family history, carved into the tree. It’s why you’ve never been above doing what it takes to keep yourself afloat in this world, even if it’s a shitty job at a glorified titty bar. The work brings home good checks and you don’t have to kiss any corporate ass in the meantime. Win, win.

“My job’s not the problem, Sar,” you say, slipping your hand away to pick at your cuticles. Your nails, once perfectly shiny and painted blue, have become chipped over the course of the last week, and you make a mental note to remedy that ASAP.

“It was your job that led a creep to your apartment,” she counters. “I’d say that definitely makes it a problem.”

“It was the creep who led himself to my apartment.” Your voice comes out sharp and defensive, a tell of how little sleep you got last night. It’s rare that you and Sarah ever bicker like this. Maybe a handful of times in the four years you roomed together on and off campus. Certainly not after you’ve moved out.

Sarah purses her lips and remains quiet for the rest of the short drive over to your place, the silence pressing onto your chest like a pile of lead.

It takes twenty minutes after you and Sarah arrive at your place for Joel and Tommy to show up with Joel’s truck. The tension has subsided a bit, although neither of you are chatty like you’d normally be. It’s clear that both of you still believe you’re each in the right, but neither of you want to keep arguing about it.

“Alright,” Tommy announces himself with a clap of his hands as he stands in the doorway of your studio, a smile hidden behind that thick mustache of his. “Let’s get this bitch cleared out.”

“Thanks for coming,” you say with a chuckle as you sit cross-legged on the floor piling books and DVDs into a box. “Luckily for you, I don’t have…”

Tommy’s blocking the sunlight that’s been filtering in through the open door, but the minute he moves to step inside, you’re left staring at something far more blinding than the sun.

Joel Miller, covered in sweat, lifting the hem of his black T-shirt up to wipe at his forehead. Your lips part as you take in the tanned skin of his abdomen, lightly dusted in dark hair. He’s not built like a gym bro, and you wouldn’t want him to be. He’s built like a man who’s spent his entire life working with his hands. He’s sturdy.

“You don’t have what?” Tommy asks, and your head jerks in his direction like a child being caught in the act of doing something they definitely shouldn’t be doing. His brow is quirked, curiosity playing on his face as his eyes flicker between you and his brother.

“Furniture,” you say, clearing your throat as you get back to work. “I don’t have a lot of furniture. And what I do have is cheap and light, so your backs shouldn’t be screaming at either of you later on.”

The idea of Joel’s back aching and all the ways you’d carefully run your hands over it to soothe the pain passes through your mind and you let out a quiet sigh of pure sexual frustration.

“Alright,” Sarah announces with a sigh, wiping the sweat off her own brow as she emerges from the closet. “Good news is I’ve managed to get half of your closet packed into boxes. Bad news is we’re out of boxes.”

“Shit, I forgot the damn dolly, too,” Tommy adds with a grunt as he stacks a box full of clothes on top of another.

“Take the truck.” Joel’s voice stirs something deep in your belly as it fills the room. Maybe it’s because it’s the first time you’ve heard it since he was between your legs, speaking absolute filth. Or maybe his voice has simply always made you react this way.

“Why am I the errand boy?” Tommy chuckles, swiping the keys as they dangle on Joel’s finger. The two seem to share a look before Tommy’s clearing his throat and turning around to face his niece. “Sarah, you’re comin’ with.”

“As long as you stop and buy me an iced coffee,” she singsongs as she passes her uncle on the way to the door. “And you’re driving!”

You swear you hear Tommy mutter something that sounds an awful lot like careful to Joel on his way out, but it’s so faint you might just be hearing things.

Silence washes over the apartment as the door clicks shut behind Tommy, leaving you and Joel alone in the tiny, disorganized space.

Joel’s throat clears, the sound bringing your eyes to rake over his frame as he studies the clutter around him with a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. When his eyes meet yours, catching you staring, you feel the urge to look away and go back to piling books in the box, but you don’t.

“You don’t have to look at me like that,” you say, chuckling sadly at the soft, regretful eyes he’s giving you. “I can tell you regret it just from your body language. You don’t need to drill the nail into the coffin with those sad puppy dog eyes.”

Joel’s brow furrows as he remains standing tall, looking down at you from across the room. “I never said I regretted it.”

“You don’t have to,” you counter weakly, finally turning away from him. “It was a lapse in judgement. I was caught up in the emotions of what happened to me, and I seduced you into doing something you didn’t want to. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry.”

Joel’s feet thump softly on the vinyl wood floor of your apartment as he comes to kneel down beside you. Gripping your chin softy in his hand, he forces your eyes to meet his. “I don’t regret it, you didn’t seduce me into doing anythin’, and I definitely wanted to do what we did. Alright?”

You nod, swallowing down the tears that threaten to spill. You’re not sure why you want to cry. It’s just been a rollercoaster of a week and here’s this big, strong, handsome man in front of you that’s acting a whole lot like he can see the wreckage going on behind your eyes.

He’s acting a whole lot like he cares to clean it up.

“If I’m bein’ off or whatever, it’s got nothin’ to do with…that,” he says, eyes glancing down to the apex of your thighs as you sit cross legged. “It’s Sarah. Her bein’ here, almost catchin’ us…it’s got me rattled, s’all.”

“Okay,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his as he lingers near you. His eyes lower to your lips and a sigh leaves his lips in response.

“Alright, give me a job to do so I don’t make this an even bigger mess by kissin’ you again,” he says with a chuckle as he stands to his full height and scans the room with his hands on his hips. “I can start—“

“Are we really not going to discuss the fact that just an hour or so ago you were on your way to giving me the best orgasm of my life?” You can’t help but to blurt the obvious question bouncing around your head now that you know Joel doesn’t regret having crossed that line with you.

Joel tilts his head and gives you a soft, almost sad smile. “Darlin’, we start talkin’ about that and we’ll pick up where we left off.”

You bite your lip and shrug your shoulders, batting your eyelashes at him. “Would that be so bad?”

With a roll of his eyes and a chuckle, Joel lets his hands drop from his hips as he walks over to scoop up a few garbage bags filled with linens. “I’m gonna take this down to the car while you think through that little scenario—specifically the two people who might walk in on us.”

“I hate that you’re being logical about this!” you call out as he opens the door and steps out into the summer heat. “Dick.”

JOEL

The house is abuzz with life, chaos, and clutter as Sarah, Tommy, Maria, and my nephew, Benji, work to unload the contents of Blue’s apartment that were stuffed into Sarah’s car and the bed of my truck. I’m thankful for the full house, though.

It’s hard to want to scoop my daughter’s best friend up and carry her to my bed when there’s this many people around to remind me of why exactly I can’t do that.

Tommy doesn’t seem to know what to make of the whole situation now that I’ve filled him in on the basics—omitting the part where I had Blue spread out on the dining table with my head between her thighs. I hadn’t meant to tell him anything, but the little fucker knows me too well. The second he got in the truck, he could sense something was off. And if there’s one thing that brother of mine is good at, it’s picking my apart until he gets to the truth.

Or most of it, at least.

After I laid it all out for him—how she and I met, the day at the barbecue when she showed up and introduced herself to everyone as Sarah’s best friend, even the night I let things go too far when I walked her to her door—he refused to give me any sort of approval or condemnation. He simply warned me to be careful for Sarah’s sake.

And I’m desperately trying to do that.

But, fuck me, with the way Blue’s workout set is hugging every inch of her curvy body—thick thighs and plush hips with dips carved out just for my hands to grab, soft stomach and breasts I could rest my head on every night for the rest of my life—it’s fucking hard.

“Alright, y’all,” Tommy slaps his hands together to dust them off as he stands in the middle of the living room, scanning the mess of boxes and trash bags and random shit that didn’t fit in either. “Think it’s dinner time for this half of the Miller brood.”

“Leaving just in time for the good part?” Sarah teases with narrowed eyes and a hand resting on her cocked hip. “How convenient."

“Hey, I’m an old man,” Tommy says, bracing his lower back with his hand as he pretends to hobble over to his wife and son by the door—both of which look just as ready to get the hell out of dodge. “Gotta go home and have my old lady rub some Icy Hot on me.”

“Gross,” Benji and Sarah cringe at the same time.

“Go on, old man,” I say, waving him off before turning towards the kitchen.

It’s about dinner time for us, as well. Only difference is that Maria likes to go home and whip up a Michelin star worthy meal, whereas I like to order my favorite takeout and call it a night.

“Chinese or pizza?” I call out as I open the fridge and grab myself a beer. I’m gonna need it if I’m going to sit at the table with Blue and Sarah, knowing exactly what Blue and I were doing on it just this morning.

“Chinese sounds good,” Blue says softly as she walks over to the kitchen island and seats herself down onto one of the stools. We lock eyes for a beat, and in that split second of contact, I swear we have an entire conversation.

I want you, her eyes whisper.

You have no idea, mine sigh.

Back and forth and nowhere at all, our eyes communicate in the only way they can. Silent, dark, knowing.

It’s over as soon as it begins when Sarah comes into the room and hoists herself up on the island. Making grabby hands for my beer, I roll my eyes and hand it over before grabbing another for myself. I pause there by the fridge and turn to meet Blue’s eyes again. “You want one?”

She inhales deeply and forces herself to smile, even though her eyes look anything but happy. She looks…sad. At war.

It’s the same way I feel inside.

I clear my throat as I hand her her beer and quickly retreat back to my spot by the stove. My eyes fix on my daughter as she sips her beer—something I still struggle to believe she’s old enough to drink—and types away on her phone with a smile. “Chinese good for you, kiddo?”

“I had Chinese last night,” she says absently. “Let’s do pizza.”

Blue’s lips purse, but that’s the only tell that she’s disappointed. She’s so goddamn good at people pleasing, I wonder if she’s ever done a single thing for herself in her entire life. It makes me want to spoil her. To ask what her wildest dreams are and find a way to make them come true.

“You know what? I think I’m in the mood for both,” I say, earning a mindless hum of approval from Sarah and a shy, knowing smile from her best friend.

The summer air is warm and sticky on your skin as you sit on the edge of Joel’s pool beside Sarah, gazing up at the stars.

“I’m glad you’re out of that shithole,” Sarah says, her voice soft as it floats away with the breeze. “You’ll be safe here with my dad. I dare one of those creeps to follow you home now.”

You chuckle at the image your mind conjures of Joel sitting by the door with a rifle over his lap, waiting and watching like a guard dog.

“Yeah, I feel better here,” you say quietly, relishing in the feel of the slightly warmer than room temp water as you gently kick your feet back and forth in the pool.

“Eventually, maybe you could even move up to Dallas and room with me,” she says, giving you an amused look, as if she already knows you’re about to list a hundred reasons why you can’t just up and leave.

They used to be hollow. A batch of excuses meant to keep you in your comfort zone.

But since meeting Joel…everything has changed. Now, the thought of living almost four hours from him makes you feel homesick for a place you’ve only just found.

Sidestepping her proposition entirely, you change the subject to a safer one. “How are things going with that guy you were seeing? Marcus, right?”

She chuckles and rubs at the back of her neck, a move that reminds you of her father when he gets nervous. “Yeah, that’s, uh, old news.”

You nudge her shoulder with yours and smile at the way her light brown skin starts to flush. “What are you hiding, Miss Ma’am?”

She laughs again, shaking her head before turning to look at you with those round, hazel eyes. With a sigh of defeat, she raises her pinky towards you. “Promise not to say anything to my dad.”

Your brows furrow, but your smile never erases as you intertwine your pinky with hers and shake on it.

“Okay, so…” She chuckles nervously, suddenly looking so much younger than her twenty-one years. “He’s older.”

Well, isn’t that ironic?

“How much older?”

Sarah bites her lip and turns away. “He’s a couple years younger than my dad.”

Your jaw drops, words failing you at her confession.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she laughs, gently shoving your shoulder. “It’s not some weird old man/little girl dynamic, I promise. He doesn’t look his age, and you know I’m definitely more mature than mine—“

“Relax, babe,” you say, chuckling at her nervous rambling. If only she knew how little footing you had to judge her on when it comes to older men. “How’d you meet him?”

She winces and hangs her head. “He’s…my boss.”

“Your boss?” you repeat, dumbfounded and a little impressed by your saint of a friend’s salacious private life.

“My bosses boss, technically,” she corrects. “He’s the new VP of our firm, but I didn’t know that when I first met him. I just thought he was a hot new guy at the company’s networking brunch.”

“Scandal!”

She rolls her eyes and shoves at you again.

The two of you sit there laughing at nothing for a few beats before you ask the important question lingering in your mind. The one that ties her situation to yours. The one that might give you reason to believe you can have your Joel Miller flavored cake and eat it too. “So age gap, and forbidden romance, huh? I didn’t peg you for somebody that would dabble in taboo.”

She shrugs and cocks her head to the side in contemplation. “Neither did I, but…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel taboo, you know?”

Boy, don’t you.

“It just feels like two people who are drawn together, despite all the reasons they shouldn’t be,” she says, a soft, lovestruck smile playing on her face as she examines her manicure. “I still think most age gaps are weird, and people shouldn’t go and try to find love at work. But some people are the exception to the rule. Sometimes the connection is stronger than the circumstances.”

You swallow and nod, her words striking you in the center of your chest.

“But if it were the other way around, and my dad brought home some twenty-something year old…” She scoffs and shakes her head. “I just don’t know how I’d get over that. It would be…I don’t want to say unforgivable, but I’d definitely never look at him the same if he started seeing someone old enough to be his daughter.”

Well, there’s the answer to your question.

Not the one you were hoping for, but an answer.

Still, you can’t help but try and poke around in her mind. “What if his connection was stronger than the circumstances, like you said?”

She shrugs again, picking at the frayed hem of her denim shorts. “My dad has nothing in common with a woman my age. There could never be any connection strong enough to change that. It would just be some weird middle age crisis thing, and I wouldn’t be able to be there to witness that mess.”

Your throat constricts, as if your body is trying to stop you from incriminating yourself any more than what you’ve already done.

“Thankfully, my dad would never do that, though,” she says, clapping her hands on her thighs before moving to stand. “Alright, I’m gonna hop in the shower and then hit the sheets.”

You stand and join her as she heads towards the patio door. “Come say bye before you head out in the morning.”

She yawns as she pads her way through the kitchen, muttering a sleepy will do and goodnight before disappearing around the corner and heading up the stairs.

Not feeling nearly tired enough for bed with a head so full of conflicting thoughts, you decide to get a jump start on your good roommate reputation by tidying up the mess in the kitchen and living room. You fold up the empty boxes that were unpacked earlier, clean up the remnants of the dinner you, Sarah, and Joel shared on the couch a few hours ago—likely because neither you nor Joel could bear to so much as look at the dining table in Sarah’s presence. After finishing up in the living room, you head into the kitchen and begin in there. As silently as you can manage, you wash the dishes, scrub the counters, and put what little groceries you brought over from your apartment into the pantry.

It’s a welcome numbness that takes over as you allow your mind to drift off into that staticky void where stress can’t reach you. It’s just you, your working hands, and the silence. No guilt, no worries, no concern for what’s about to happen next.

You’re so lost in the absence of thought that you don’t hear the footsteps approaching you as you wipe down Joel’s beloved coffee pot that looks as though it’s never seen a rag since it’s been unboxed and set down on the counter.

“You’re up late,” he says, his deep timbre causing you to jump out of your skin as you stand with your back turned to him in the darkness of the night. The only light that illuminates his face is the moon outside the glass patio doors beside the kitchen, glimmering a dull blue against his light brown skin.

He looks like something out of a gothic romance.

He looks haunted, and dark, and devastatingly beautiful all at once.

“You don’t have to clean,” he says, leaning his hip against the kitchen island as he watches you stand there looking like you can’t decide between running away from the temptation that is his existence for good and running towards the destruction that losing yourself in him would inevitably cause. “You’re not a maid.”

“I know,” you say, your voice cracking from being silent for the last hour. “I just…sometimes it’s hard to sleep. Figured I’d tire myself out in a productive way instead of…”

Instead of sneaking upstairs to tire myself out with you, you think.

Joel’s eyes flash with something heady and dangerous. Like he can read your mind. Like he can hear the unspoken. “Instead of?”

Biting your lip, you shrug and turn towards the sink to wash your hands clean. As you’re mindlessly scrubbing them, your hands shake from the feeling of Joel’s eyes boring into the back of your head as you start wiping it down again. As if his eye contact is a physical thing, your body reacts to the feeling of his gaze slipping lower and lower until it’s locked on the hem of your sleep shorts where there’s the tiniest bit of undercheek showing.

You swallow thickly as you feel his energy come closer. Your hands are moving on their own, mindlessly rinsing away soap that was gone a long time ago. Your heartbeat is so loud you can’t hear anything. Not the sound of the running water. Not the sound of Joel’s feet as they lead him to stand right behind you. Not even the sound of his own heart, beating just as loudly against your back as he presses himself against you.

“Instead of what, darlin’?” he whispers as he shuts the tap off before his hands find their home on your hips. They’re warm and they’re rough, even through the thin cotton barrier. It makes you want to melt into him and strip yourself of every layer until those rough hands have left their mark on you. “Tell me what you really wanted t’do instead of cleanin’ my entire house in the middle of the damn night.”

“Wasn’t your entire house,” you manage, earning a swat to one globe of your ass. It’s hard enough to sting in the best way, but not enough to leave a mark.

You wonder just how hard you’d have to beg to get him to do just that.

“One room, two rooms, the whole damn house—it doesn’t matter. It’s not your job, and it sure as hell isn’t what you really need to clear that head of yours, is it?” he asks, his breath minty and warm as it fans across your neck. The bridge of his nose brushes against the shell of your ear and you shiver, that thumping pulse in your neck quickly shooting to between your thighs. “You don’t wanna tire yourself out with cleanin’ up after people. You do that all damn day at work. No, you want somethin’ else, don’t you, baby?”

“Joel,” you sigh, reaching back to cradle the back of his head as his lips move against your neck with every word. Your ass moves against him, relishing in the feel of the hard, thick line of his cock beneath his sweats.

“You want someone to fuck your brain quiet, don’t you, baby?” His voice is so deep and warm, that slight twang working for him in a way it never seems to for any of the men that come into the bar hoping to charm you into their beds. But then again, none of them would do half the shit that Joel’s done for you, all while getting little to nothing in return.

“Yes…fuck,” you moan, keeping your voice as soft as the summer breeze outside.

Joel hums against your neck and lets his teeth graze against your heated skin while his hands wander beneath the hem of your T-shirt and smooth against the soft pout of your lower belly until they hit the underside of your breasts. “I fuckin’ love your curves, baby. More than I have any right to.”

“Touch them, then,” you say, finding that boldness that you keep stored away for nights when Blue has to come out. Joel’s resounding groan in your ear and the press of his hips against your ass prove that he enjoys seeing that other side of you just as much as you’re enjoying this side of him. “They can belong to you, if you want.”

“Fuck—don’t say shit like that,” he groans, rutting his hips against you slowly. Each thrust has you getting wetter and wetter imagining how deep he’d be hitting inside you at this angle. He feels big, even through his sweats, and your walls clench around nothing as if to prepare for the inevitable stretch of him inside you.

“You told me to tell you what I need,” you say, grabbing his hands and lifting them so that he’s palming the weight of your bare breasts. “This is what I need—you having control of my body for a little bit. I need it so bad, Joel.”

“Fuck,” Joel’s hands don’t hesitate in kneading at the plump, soft flesh. His rough fingertips pinch and tug at your nipples as his lips trail up the slope of your neck to nip at your earlobe. ”I’m goin’ to hell.”

“I’ll be there too,” you say with a smile.

One of Joel’s hands leaves your breast to grip your chin, tilting your head until your lips are being claimed by his.

Everything is being claimed by him. Your mouth, your body, your mind. He’s taking control of all of it and it’s so…liberating.

For someone who always has to look out for herself and make her own decisions, it’s shockingly euphoric to give all that control away to someone for a little while.

“How wet’s that pretty pussy, baby?” he asks, his lips still pressed against yours as he speaks.

“Wet,” you confess.

“Good,” he purrs, low and smooth as honey pouring over your skin. “Now be a good girl and show me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of his hips rocking against yours, the scruff of his beard as it rubs against your neck with every kiss, his arms banded tightly around your frame like he can’t get you close enough. You’re pliant and eager to please as you slide your hand over your stomach and down beneath the waistband of your shorts. Your fingertips brush over the neatly trimmed patch of hair above your cunt before slipping lower, right into the sticky sweet warmth where you’re leaking just for him.

“How’s it feel, baby?” he purrs again, his breath catching as if he’s struggling to maintain control over his body. “She nice and wet for me?”

“Yes,” you whine, circling your swollen bud before slipping lower and hooking your fingers into the heat of your cunt.

“Mm,” he hums, his hands squeezing you tighter. “Think I need t’see for myself.”

Biting your lip, you slowly drag your fingers out of your shorts and hold them up, the moonlight glistening off your wetness like diamonds. “See? All for you.”

Joel groans and presses his cock harder against you. “God damn, Blue. Bet it’s sweet as honey, too.”

Smirking like the devil, you bring your fingers up to his lips and allow him just the slightest of tastes before pulling them away to pop in your own mouth instead. You hum at the taste, locking eyes with him just to watch his disbelief.

“Just like honey,” you say with a grin.

“Now, I don’t think that belonged to you,” he says with a tut. His big, warm, calloused hand slides leaves your breast to slide down your stomach, inching towards the band of your shorts. “Guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

You gasp as his hand pushes into your shorts, his fingers thick as they swipe over your clit and down to where you’re dripping and fluttering for him. His free hand lifts to cover your mouth as soon as a whine escapes your lips, but he soothes it away with a press of his lips against the shell of your ear. “Be quiet for me and I’ll make this pussy come like I wanted to earlier.”

His hand muffles your whine, but you nod your head in his grasp, giving yourself over to him completely.

He plunges deep inside your heat, filling you up with two thick fingers as he curls them upwards against that spongy spot that has your eyes rolling backwards while his palm grinds against your clit. It’s enough to have your legs threatening to give out on you, but there’s no way you’re letting anything stop you from coming for him—not when you already feel so close to the edge.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice rough gravel and warm whiskey. “Tight, too. You’re gonna strangle my dick when I finally give it to you, ain’t ya, baby?”

You moan against his palm in response to his words. To his promise.

“You think you can take all of me, darlin’?” he asks, rutting his cock between the plush globes of your ass. “I know you feel me. It’s big, ain’t it?”

His Texas twang is thicker than it normally is. So thick he almost sounds drunk.

You certainly feel drunk off him.

“Joel,” you whine against his palm, and he pulls it away, wrapping it softly around your throat instead. “I need to touch you.”

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, fucking your cunt harder and deeper with his fingers. “Tonight’s all you.”

“Please,” you beg, though your hips never stop grinding to meet each deep thrust he gives you. Joel gives you no response, just doubles down on his handiwork with his bottom lip bitten between his teeth and his eyes peering over your shoulder to watch his hand trapped in the fabric of your shorts.

You’re so close to the edge, but you’ve never been all that good at taking. You’re a natural giver—from the way you work to the way you treat your loved ones. It’s always about giving just as much as you take, or more if you can help it.

And this is no different.

Your hand wanders on its own, sliding between your bodies to nestle against Joel’s lower belly in search for what you need in order to give.

Joel tuts as your fingertips graze the waistband of his sweats, trying desperately to undo the lace tied there. “Now, what’d I say?”

“Just let me touch you,” you whine. Joel slaps your hand away before gripping it in his and pinning it to the small of your back. When you try again with your free hand, he takes that one in his hold and keeps you there, bound against his frame. It makes your cunt flutter around his fingers, being manhandled so effortlessly.

“You like that, don’t ya, Blue?” he teases, fucking his fingers against that wet, soft spot until you can hear just how wet you are against his hand. “Pussy’s leakin’ all over me. You gonna come on my hand like this? Bound up like a brat ‘cause you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

A choked down moan slips past your lips as that warm, dizzy, euphoric feeling pours over you like honey, making you feel like you’re melting into the only man that’s ever brought you to an orgasm.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

It lasts forever and it’s over in a second.

It’s addicting.

You never want to be anywhere but right here in Joel’s arms, his honeyed voice whispering utter filth that only registers somewhere in your subconscious as you come down from the stars.

“Mmhm,” he hums, and you finally gain enough sense to realize he’s sucking your come off his fingers with a smirk. “Just like I said. Sweet as honey.”

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guess-my-next-obsession · 5 days ago

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no words just

summary: you teach joel how to choke you

|| smut MDNI 18+, horny musings, not much plot, choking, pinv, dirty talk (god I love nasty joel! what can I say he gets the mouth of a sailor when he’s turned on), bicep choking!!!!!!!, daddy kink, praise kink, little bit of pussy pronouns, anxious!joel, nervous!joel, sweet!reader, established relationship, jackson!joel, mentions of big scary joel bark bark bark, but actually I just love him so there's also tender fluff in here too. I can't make smut without making it abundantly clear im helplessly in love w him || a/n: oh yeah so I was on vacay this whole week and this was all I thought about. okay maybe one more thing you might see from this week of inspiration but plz enjoy!!! a/n II: thinking about joel's anxiety makes me sad but I feel like it's not written about enough plz don't make me cry anymore wc: 2.2k short and sweet 4 u

You knew your best chance was when he was at his most…pliable.

That slow-breathing, skin-sticky softness that only came in the after. When both of your bodies were loose and lazy with release— oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin still thick in the bloodstream. Joel’s soft hazel eyes were warm and drowsy, blinking slowly beneath the fall of his thick lashes. How unfair, you always thought, that he got to have such astonishingly beautiful lashes. Men often did, didn’t they? His cheeks were still flushed pink, his chest rising steady beside yours. You watched the corner of his mouth lift into a crooked smile as he burrowed into the pillow, a bullish breath releasing from his lungs.

Your hand found his hair, dark and streaked with silver, damp at the nape. You pushed your fingers through it, nails scraping gently as he purred beneath your touch.

He pulled you in, tucking your body against the broad wall of his chest. His chin came to rest at your shoulder, and you felt his breath as it moved across your skin—slow, heavy, hot. You let out a small sigh and traced the length of his arm, following it down to where his fingers splayed wide over your hip. He was still inside out from it all. Both of you warm and bare, still slick with the sheen of sweat and the fading intensity of the post-coitus high.

You brought his hand up in front of your face, holding it in both of yours like something precious. You traced the creases in his palm, the coarse curls of hair on the back of it. He was such a big man, all of him thick and solid and heavy. You loved it so deeply about him. How he could be so big and scary and yet so tender all at once.

That was the thing about Joel Miller. He was the most dangerous man you'd ever met. But in your home, in your bed, in these quiet moments, he was gentle. So, so gentle.

You made your move.

Guiding his hand slowly, you carefully set it down to your neck. You knew he was watching out of one squinting, peering eye. Always watchful, always aware of your movements.

“What’re you doin’, young lady?” he asked, voice like honey and gravel on asphalt.

You settled his palm against the sensitive flesh of your throat, pulling his thumb to one side and resting his fingers on the other. Just gently letting the broad stretch of his hand rest under your jaw.

God, he was so warm.

And even though his expression had softened in this post coitus high, even though his breath moved gently against your skin, this kind of calm didn’t come easy to him. When he was like this—sated, warm, still wrapped around you—all you could do was hope he’d stay there in it. You hoped he wasn’t going to bark or bristle or retreat behind that rough voice he used when his chest got too tight.

Because Joel’s anxiety didn’t come in skittishness or shaky hands. It was silence, stillness. It was the way he watched everything, how fast he could go from soft to sharp, always ready to protect. Even when there wasn’t a threat. Even when he thought the threat was himself.

You felt him stiffen as he realized what you were doing.

He tried to pull his hand away, and you let him—again, not wanting to spook the big, terrifying, yet sweet and sorrowful creature you’d come to love.

“How would you feel if I asked you to choke me?” you asked, voice calm, your tone low and careful. Coaxing the beast within.

His answer came quickly and without hesitation: “Ain’t happenin’.”

Whatever softness had still lingered in him was gone now. His voice was flat, and his whole body had gone still beside you, his heart hammering through his chest and against your skin.

“Joel, baby, I’m sorry—” you whispered, reaching for the calm you’d just shared, trying to soothe what you’d stirred.

“There ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for,” he said, and his tone wasn’t cruel, but it was set. Final. He wasn’t angry, he was afraid, you knew that. Knew him. “I just ain’t doin’ that.”

You turned towards him, wrapping your arms around him, nuzzling your nose into the thick, wiry hair of his chest. You waited as his heart settled, kissing his chest, interlaching your fingers behind his back, tracing gentle circles into his damp skin.

And maybe it was because you knew him. Knew how to coax that big, nervous animal in him into gentleness, into calm. Knew how to read the quiet tension in his body, how to recognize the moments when he pulled away. Because he was never angry at you, that you’d come to realize long ago. He was afraid. Full of gut churning fear and worry. He was just a man who had seen too much, done too much, and lost even more. And now, he was trying, so hard, to be good.

That’s why, when you answered, you didn’t push. You pursed your lips against his thick chest of hair and said, “Okay.”

“I promise you won’t hurt me, baby,” you told him softly, your voice slow with wine and warmth as you laid back on the bedspread, still smelling like smoke and sugar from the community bonfire. You’d been out with Tommy and Maria, drinking too much under the string lights, and Joel had come home handsier than usual—emboldened by the night, maybe, or just finally brave enough to give you the thing you’d been asking for.

He was already hard and thick and stretching you open, your body split in two around his cock, your hips cradling his breadth of a body. Your thighs hooked tight around his waist as you tried to pull him in even deeper, closer than skin would ever allow as his hand rested against your throat.

“Don’t you think it makes a pretty necklace?” you teased, breathless already. Just the weight of his hand there was enough to have your hips rolling up in search of more, desperate for that aching stretch and the sweet pressure you craved.

He hesitated, voice thick and low. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

But you reached up, took the hand at your throat into both of yours, and guided him to press his digits to your skin. Just his thumb, just the fingers on the other side of your throat.

“Right there, daddy,” you whispered, eyes fluttering. “Just pinch. Don’t push.”

His brow was furrowed, his hazel eyes swallowed up by the black of his arousal. You circled his thick wrist with your nimble fingers, grounding him, showing him how safe he was here. He was always so god damn warm, your personal furnace, all heat and weight and steady flame. The fire in the hearth of your chest, your soul, your heart. His chest pressed down against yours, his cock buried so deep you could feel him in your ribs, your arousal slick and messy, dripping down his shaft and onto the bed beneath you.

You whimpered, high and needy.

“Please, Joel,” you whispered. “I trust you.”

That seemed to loosen the shackles he kept tight around himself. The ones forged in fear, in longing, with a want too big and too dangerous to trust within himself. He exhaled, sharp and tight, and gave the faintest, featherlight squeeze. Not even enough for your head to go light, but enough for your cunt to flutter helplessly around him. He sucked in a tight hiss, the sound breaking in his throat.

“Oh, fuck,”

His eyes squeezed shut, then opened again, blown black and flicking from his hand on your throat to your face and back. Your mouth was slack, your head tilted back, eyes rolling in ecstasy. Your pussy clenched hard around him again and he groaned.

“Again, again, again,” you pleaded, rocking up into him, your hands urging his wrist to hold you tighter.

He did it again.

And your walls seized around him.

“Christ, baby—Jesus fuck,” he choked out. “You’re—she’s— grippin’ me—chokin’ my cock while I hold your pretty little neck—”

And thus, it was the start of something wholly beautiful and euphoric and filthy.

He had you prone on the bed, your legs spread wide and stretched beneath him, back arched, ass pressing and pushing back greedily into every stroke. His weight draped heavy over your spine, chest slick with sweat as it laid across your back. The room was thick with the sound of skin, the slap of his hips meeting the swell of your ass, again and again and again.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered into the shell of your ear, his voice rough with breath and effort. Every word was broken by a grunt, by the slap of his pelvis slamming into you.

You moaned helplessly, drool slipping from your parted lips, soaking into the thick muscle of his arm where it curved around your throat. Your chin was tucked to his elbow, held snug in the crook of it, his bicep pulsing as he held you close. His forearm pinned you in place, tight and possessive. Your anchor, just how you’d begged for it.

“Got you all cock drunk now, huh?” he muttered, low and smug, the bastard, dragging the words across your skin like velvet. You could hear the grin in it, even feel the curl of his mouth as he pressed a kiss into your ear, “Can’t even talk while I’m fuckin’ you, baby?”

You mewled in response, the only sound you could manage as his thick cock punched into you, each thrust stealing another breath, another thought. He was deep, impossibly deep, stretching you to the edge of your limit and keeping you right there, stuffed full and shaking.

“So pretty like this,” he groaned, voice pitching low in his throat. “Takin’ daddy’s cock so good, princess. So fuckin’ good.”

You tried to answer, tried to give him something back, but what came out was a garbled, wet sound as your tongue dipped out to collect the spit dribbling out on your slack lips. You were trembling beneath him, wrecked and ruined and still asking for more.

“You know,” he rasped, his breath warm against your ear, “I’ve killed men by doin’ this. You know that, right?”

Your eyes rolled back. Your walls fluttered around him, involuntary and tight.

“Oh, yeah, she loves that. Killed ’em easy, baby, just my arm to their neck. Watched their lights go out. That turn you on?” His voice was rougher now, throatier, but still careful, still asking. Still watching you.

You pushed your ass back into him with a sob, wordless, every nerve in your body crying yes.

“Tell me, baby,” he murmured, thrusts slowing in their tempo. “Tell me. Use your big girl words.”

“I love it,” you cried, the words torn from your throat. “I love it, I love it, I love it—” You were close, almost there, your voice climbing higher with every breath, every roll of his hips, every squeeze of his arm.

“I know, sweet angel,” he groaned, his cock twitching inside you as your walls clenched tighter. “My nasty girl loves when daddy chokes her, huh?”

You could barely nod, could barely think. He just kept fucking into you, the drag of his cock thick and slow, then sharp and deep, until your body curled and tightened beneath him. He was everywhere—his chest on your back, his balls slapping your clit, the heat of his breath against your cheek, your pussy leaking down his shaft and onto the sheets in creamy slick. His weight pressed you into the mattress like he could mold you there and never let you go.

“But I love my girl,” he said, softer now, almost like a confession. Maybe to remind you, to remind himself. “Love her so much. I’d never hurt her, you know that, right?”

You nodded, jaw slack, lips kissing the sweaty skin of his arm as you forced your mind to work, for your tongue to follow orders, “I know d-d-daddy, I know—I love—oh fuck—I love you too…oh oh, ah!…hmmmppphhh—”

“Oh, good girl, that was hard, I know. That’s alright. That’s it. Right there,” he growled, hips snapping harder now, erratic, desperate. “I feel her chokin’ daddy’s cock back. Feel how much she loves it. C’mon, baby girl. Come for me. That’s it. Fuck—”

Your body seized beneath him, a full-body tremor that started at your core and rippled outward, your vision going white as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave. You sobbed through it, breath stuttering, your cunt fluttering around him in tight, wet pulses that had him growling through his teeth.

“Good girl,” he grunted, barely hanging on. “That’s my goooood fuckin’ girl.”

He followed you down a moment later, groaning raggedly against your shoulder, his cock twitching deep inside as he spilled into you, thick and hot, his weight sinking heavy over your back. You breathed there together for a long moment, lost in that same fuzzy cotton haze.

And then his arm loosened around your throat, sliding down to your sternum to shift the both of you. His cock slipped out of you with a wet drag, still heavy and shining, your slick clinging to him as your body clenched around the sudden emptiness. The loss made your limbs tremble, thighs twitching where they rested against his. He moved you onto your side, then onto your back and settled beneath you, his own back pressed to the sheets, your spine stretched along his chest.

He sighed in relief before shifting slightly, just enough to reach and press his lips against your temple.

"You alright, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse, still catching on the edges of his breath.

You nodded, face softening as you tilted your head toward him. He reached down and kissed you, slow and warm, and you hummed against his mouth.

“Perfect,” you whispered.

You both sighed then, content and drowsy, riding the soft haze of afterglow. The hormones still moved thick through your bodies, warmth blooming in your limbs as you looked up at him. Your fingers slipped into his hair and you held him close.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “For trusting me.”

“Don’t need thankin’, honey,” he said, his voice low, eyes soft and steady on yours. “If anything, it’s me who oughta thank you—for keepin’ me here. For trustin’ me.”

“I do trust you. With everything,” you said. “And I love you.”

He kissed you again, and you kept your eyes open, watching the furrow of his brow, watching his mind whirr with the thoughts and big feelings he once was so afraid to say.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispered when he finally released your mouth, voice rough at the edges. “So much.”

“To touch is to be touched” —Hélène Cixous

#gmno fic rec #joel miller

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guess-my-next-obsession · 5 days ago

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new chapter of blue tonight and she’s 🌶️🌶️🌶️

#blue #gmno updates

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guess-my-next-obsession · 6 days ago

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i love you i love you i luhOOOoove you !! 🩵🩵🩵

𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐲

heyyyy soooo... once again im a pervy girl lookin' to bone joel miller. sorry. but also not sorry because these fics are so good??? early posting because I can’t help myself!!!! hope everyone had a wonderful month! peep the new fic rec theme hehe please show these authors love if you enjoyed their stories!! love u, may x

You Know You Never Stood A Chance by @corazondebeskar-reads

qz!joel miller x you series summary: an injury leaves you struggling to make ends meet. you do what you swore you'd never do and take Joel Miller up on his offer. thoughts: Yep yep yep !!!! I can't believe I haven't put this in a fic rec list yet because the amount of times I go back to this.... an oldie but a GOOOOODIEEEEEE wheeewwyyy you are my darker joel GO TO, TONI !!! tytyty

Jackrabbit! by @sceletaflores

jackson!joel miller x you one shot sumary: joel finds a sex toy while out on patrol/raid and teaches you how to use it thoughts: HOT!! << my only initial note when i saved this lmaooo. You know im a slut for some gooooood ol' dirty talk and this one delivers it on a steaming hot platter babe

Young Tommy Miller was a whore by @writteninthebinds

tommy miller x you headcanon summary: I think we can all agree that young Tommy Miller was a whore. Beautiful, cocky, too smug for his own good. my thoughts: TOMMMMYYYYYYYY RAHHHHH I love early Tommy stuff of him being a little player if I were to write him it would be this version !!!! I wanna make out with him in his car after he shot guns weed into my mouth!! I wanna grind on his lap and joel comes out and catches us!! and joins in!!! what I mean uh uh uh sorry bye

Blue by @guess-my-next-obsession

bfd!joel miller x you ongoing series summary: while working at a local bikini bar in austin under the flirty alias, Blue, reader meets a handsome older man going through a divorce. little do they know, they have more in common than their attraction to one another, and her name is Sarah. my thoughts: NEW FAVE YES MAAAAAM THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME! Came for the horniness stayed for the great writing! can't wait for these two to bone goddddammmittttt

Someone's Wife In the Boat of Someone's Husband by @netherfeildren

joel miller x you series summary: What do you do when you meet a woman, have a child, get married, and then find the love of your life? original thoughts as of finishing: NO WHATEVER DUDE ITS FINE JUST ANOTHER FUCKING MASTERPIECE WITH A JOEL THAT DAMN NEAR RUINED MY LIFE WHATEVER DUDE WHATEVER DONT LOOK AT ME current thoughts: GAH I can't seem to live without your writing, going back to read certain scenes and just the way you write joel has my heart constricting and holding onto his every word, his every action. fuck me dude. another fantastic fic that had me staring into space for HOURS.

#gmno reblogs #sweet friends and their sweet sweet words

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guess-my-next-obsession · 9 days ago

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thank you babes !!! 🩵

blue. | chapter five

pairing: bfd!joel miller x curvy!fem!reader

chapter warnings: series is 18+ only, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader's age is set at 25, joel is 40), best friend's dad trope, reader works at a bikini bar (race is a blank slate but reader is described as being curvy/plus size and is very much comfortable in her skin), divorced!joel, dual POV, pining, fantasizing, robbery, allusions to sexual harassment/stalking, angst, dirty talk, soft dom!joel, oral sex (fem rec.) 🌶️

word count: 4.5k

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

It’s been a hell of a week since the night Joel dropped you off at your front door, let you suck on his thumb as if it was his dick, and ran off into the night without so much as a goodbye. He hasn’t shown up to The Boot, nor have you had any luck in catching him around town. Likely scared off entirely from your very bold and lustful move that night, Joel has scampered off into hiding and you’re all but convinced he’ll never come back out to play.

You tell yourself his departure from your life isn’t the reason why you’ve started working double shifts—that you’re doing it because you need to save up for a down payment on a car now that your truck has been hauled off to the graveyard that is Tommy Miller’s driveway—but you know that’s not the truth. Life without Joel’s bar visits and tension-filled conversations has been bleak and boring. Not only does killing your time at work bring in more cash, it gives you a productive distraction from the man that’s taken up too much space in your mind for a guy who’s just supposed to be your best friend’s father.

The only downside of practically living at The Boot?

The clientele.

Old Jerome still shows up almost every afternoon and lingers until last call, but he’s the best case scenario on who decides to walk through those doors. Lately, with summer in full swing, it’s been more rowdy college boys looking to blow off steam from a stressful semester by hounding you and your coworkers night in and night out.

Veneers—real name Ryan—the sleazy, bachelor party guy from last week has made The Boot his regular spot—more specifically, the barstool right in front of your register. So, every time you have to total someone out or add a drink to their tab, you’ve had to deal with that toothy smile and those pathetic lines.

Tonight was no different, with him badgering you about coming home with him until you thought you might actually break character and tell him to fuck off for good. But you didn’t, thankfully. Instead, you threw on a smile and gracefully curved him until he gave up for the night and left an hour before last call.

After closing, you catch a ride with one of the older ladies from in the back kitchen, Lori, and a newer server that just started a few days ago nicknamed June—chosen because of her favorite season, she’d said during her first shift. Thankfully, none of you are feeling chatty tonight, so the car ride is comfortably silent all the way to your humble abode—and humble it truly is.

The complex is still just as dimly lit as the night Joel dropped you off despite management saying they were going to fix the flood lights that usually light the place up. Or light it up enough for it to feel safe.

But there’s no other choice. With a quick thank you and see ya, you’re stepping out of the four-door sedan and into the darkness of the night with your gym bag over your shoulder and your keys between your fingers.

Music bumps from one of the first floor apartments closest to the sidewalk. It’s the same apartment that always gets the cop called for noise disturbances. A young couple that volleys between party mode and a game of who can yell louder? You groan as you pass by their door and discover that tonight is a mixture of both.

At least they have something going on. All you have to come home to is a wilting plant and an unmade bed. You thought about getting a cat or something equally independent to keep you company during lonely nights, but it never seemed fair to be gone half the time and then expect a creature to love you.

Without diving too deep into the potential hidden meanings behind that thought, you make your way up the worse for wear concrete steps and climb your way up to the second floor walkway where the door to your humble studio sits waiting, shrouded in darkness.

Except, there’s something different tonight.

Something off.

Your skin prickles and the hair on your arms stand upright as your eyes scan the darkness for the source of your unease. There’s no one around. No sounds to hone in on except the thumping bass and muffled argument from below. There’s no reason why you should feel so off, but you do.

Stepping closer to your door, you finally spot the source of your unease. The door—the one you always double check is locked before you leave for every shift—is not only unlocked, but left open just a crack.

Your heartbeat pounds as you tug your phone out and flick on the flashlight before slowly swinging the door open.

Flicking on the main light, you scan the room for any sign of an intruder. Thankfully, with a studio this small, you can see every single inch of your apartment from the doorway, so at least you know for certain no one is currently in here, waiting for you. Still, you check under the bed and in the closet just to be certain.

The most peculiar part of the scene is the lack of destruction and theft. Robberies aren’t uncommon, especially in areas like this that practically beg for someone to come and break in under the cover of darkness, but this doesn’t look like a robbery. Everything valuable is still very much in its place. The only thing that’s been touched is…

A shiver climbs up your spine as you realize what exactly this intruder came in here for.

The contents of your underwear drawer are spread out across your bed. Thongs, period panties, vibrators that have long since been out of commission—all of it. Tossed around and picked through.

Half of your sexiest pairs are gone.

A few sex toys are gone, too.

Your stomach churns as you dare peek at the dirty laundry bin in your bathroom, and just as you suspected, the perverted thief took what they wanted from there, too.

Sick, sick, sick. Both the creep who did this and the way your stomach feels.

You hardly register what you’re doing before your phone is pressed to your ear.

“Hey,” Sarah says, her voice groggy with sleep. “Why are you calling so late? I’m not a booty call, you know.”

“My apartment got broken into.” You’re on auto-pilot as you stare blankly ahead, unable to do anything but stand in the middle of the room and look at all the things this stranger touched that once belonged to you and now feels soiled.

“What?” she shouts.

“They went through my panties and took shit,” you say, still robotic in your delivery. “Took my brand new vibrator.”

The vibrator you ordered after her dad let you suck on his thumb.

“Dude—hold on,” she says, and you can hear the sound of bedsheets being moved as she gets up. “I’m going to call my dad and have him come get you, okay?”

You don’t care about the tension with Joel right now. You don’t care about the fact that she’s going to wake him up in the dead of night and force him to come pick you up. Right now, the thought of being near Joel sounds like the safest place you could be.

“Okay,” you say, finally allowing a tear to slip down your cheek.

Twenty minutes later, Joel’s boots are stomping their way up the stairs to your apartment. He knocks gently, cautiously announcing his presence as if he’s afraid he’ll scare you.

“Hey,” you croak as you let him inside. Your eyes are red and your lips are swollen from crying, but you don’t bother to hide either. Tonight’s not about shallow shit like vanity and attraction. You just want to feel safe. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it as he takes a bold step and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you tight into his warm, solid frame. “Are you okay? Nothin’ happened to you?”

You scoff as tears start to spill again. “Nothing physical, if that’s what you mean.”

Joel sighs and lets his palms smooth over your upper back until you think you might actually melt into him. “I mean, are you okay?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you pull back and look up into his eyes with a quivering lip. “Not really, no.”

Joel nods, his hands flexing as they hold your shoulders before he lets them drop. “Come on. I’ll grab your stuff in the mornin’.”

“They went through all my—“

“I know,” he says, his jaw clenching tight as his eyes flick to the bed where your underwear is still strewn across the mattress. His eyes look murderous until they meet yours again and soften. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

JOEL

The last thing I expected to spend my night doing last night was picking Blue up and dropping her off at my place before meeting the cops at her apartment to file an official report. She’d begged me to stay, and even though it physically hurt to leave her all alone after everything, I needed to make sure this was a documented break-in in case that fucker ever tried to come back for more.

It had to be one of her customers. No regular thief is interested in a couple pairs of used panties and a vibrator when she had a TV, computer, and gaming console ripe for the taking.

My stomach churns with guilt over my absence this past week.

Maybe if I showed up and played bodyguard like I had before, no one would’ve been able to secretly follow her home and plan out their strange robbery.

But my nerves and guilty conscience outweighed my sense of protectiveness when it comes to her.

I should have never driven her home that night. I shouldn’t have walked her to her door. I damn well shouldn’t have reached for her face or let her take my thumb into her mouth like I had any right to take anything from her.

And now she’s here, sleeping one floor down from my bedroom while I’m cooking her breakfast. All to pretend everything’s okay. That she didn’t just get violated last night. That her and I haven’t been tiptoeing around each other for the last month.

“Smells good.” Her raspy morning voice stirs something low and heated in my stomach as she appears from around the corner in the same clothes she was wearing when I picked her up last night—an oversized Nirvana T-shirt and a tiny pair of cotton shorts. I’m struck speechless at the sight of her fresh faced and undone. She’s so beautiful it aches. She’s so beautiful it almost ruins my day.

“Thought you might be hungry,” I murmur, flipping a pancake on the griddle as she moves behind me to open the fridge. “There’s orange juice in there. Coffee in the pot.”

“Think I’ll just stick to water for now,” she says, chuckling dryly. “Need to rehydrate after crying out all the moisture in my body.”

“Cops took fingerprints on what they could find,” I offer, as if it will ease the ache she’s feeling. To have your safe haven breached, your most delicate things defiled, your privacy violated…

It makes me want to hunt that pervert down and kill him.

“Guess I need to add finding a new apartment onto the to-do list,” she sighs as she takes a seat at the island. “Get a new car, rent a new apartment, buy new underwear that hasn’t been fondled by a pervert…Completely normal to-do list.”

“I can help with some a’that.” Sliding her freshly assembled plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes over to her, I cross my arms and lean against the island, watching as she douses the entire plate in syrup. “Tommy’s got a good buddy at one of the Ford dealerships. Sure he could get you a good deal.”

“Yeah, that would be nice. Thanks.” She gives me a soft, barely there smile and hauls a forkful into her mouth.

“As for the apartment…” I reach a hand back to rub at the back of my neck as I contemplate the pros and cons of what I’m about to offer.

Fuck it.

“You could stay here,” I say, watching as her eyes meet mine and go blank. “Just until…you know, you get your feet on the ground.”

She chews slowly, her eyes unblinking as she watches me struggle to not squirm under her gaze.

“There’s a spare room,” I continue, mostly just to drown out the silence. “It’s a makeshift gym right now, but we can move your furniture in. S’got a private bathroom, too. Won’t have t’worry about sharin’ with Sarah when she comes down to visit.”

I watch as her eyes fall back to her plate, her fork scraping against porcelain as she cuts off another chunk and dips it into more syrup than I’ve ever seen anyone pour in one go. “You sure that’s a good idea, considering...”

Considering the fact that I haven’t gone a night—aside from last night—without fucking my hand to the image of her in one of those little outfits she wears to work? Yeah, it’s probably a terrible fuckin’ idea to invite that kind of temptation into my home.

“It’ll be fine,” I lie, turning around to pour myself a cup of coffee from the pot next to the stove. “We’ll hardly see each other durin’ the week. I work late hours Monday through Friday, and you’re gone practically all weekend. I see no reason why we can’t be cordial to one another in passing.”

My response is enough to pull out the first laugh from her that I’ve heard since the night I drove her home. It’s not a full, hearty laugh, but it’s enough to make my chest go all warm and sickly feeling. “Cordial, huh?”

I turn around, giving her a stern glare. “What’s wrong with bein’ cordial?”

She tilts her head as she deadpans, those eyes of hers boring into mine like she if she looks hard enough, she can see the truth of who I am and how badly I want her in them. “Cordial means friendly, last time I checked the dictionary.”

“Mmhm.”

She quirks a smile but hides it with another bite of her food. I wait with anticipation as she slowly swallows it all down before folding her arms on the island and ruining me with one simple question. “What’s friendly about me sucking your thumb like I want to suck your dick?”

It’s the rollercoaster ride of emotions that emboldens you to the point of laying it all out there. That’s the only logical reason as to why in the midst of all of this stress and fear, you’ve chosen to bring up Joel’s dick—and namely, your desire to have it in your mouth—to his face.

Joel goes pale at your question, as if he were a saint and you’ve just soiled his virtue. His face doesn’t seem to know what expression is the most fitting reaction. His eyebrows lace together and then relax, his eyes widen and then narrow, his lips gape and then slam shut. It’s like he’s short-circuiting.

And it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever seen.

“You alright?” Finished with the admittedly perfect meal he made you, you walk your dish over to the sink beside him and start to rinse it off. “Did I just give you a stroke?”

Joel runs a hand over his face and jaw as he moves to step around the island, putting more space between the two of you. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“What, the truth?” you volley, arching a brow at him. “Because that’s what it is, the truth. At least I’m brave enough to admit it, unlike…”

“What? Unlike me?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest as his shock turns into frustration. Maybe even a little bit of anger. Whatever it is, it’s a heady thing, being in the receiving end of Joel’s stern gaze. “You want to know why I haven’t crossed that line with you?”

The question seems rhetorical, but you’re not in the mood to play along. Right now, you’re enjoying the sight of getting under this grown man’s skin and the distraction it brings.

“I don’t know, because you’re—“

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, leaning his hands onto the marble island as he levels a stern look at you. Your eyes trail from his down to his broad shoulders, soaking in the stretch of his T-shirt against those functional, sturdy muscles. They keep lowering, down his tanned, veiny, strong arms to those skilled, working man’s hands and fingers that look thick enough to destroy you with only two. “You got to run that mouth a minute ago. Now it’s my turn to talk.”

You swallow thickly and nod stupidly like the turned on, all blood is currently below the belt version of yourself you so rarely become.

“If you think I haven’t thought about what it might be like to get you on your knees and fuck that pretty mouth, you’re sorely mistaken,” he says, and the image he’s painted paired with the rough, warm timbre of his voice has your thighs squeezing together. “I’d love nothing more than to take you upstairs and show you just how many ways I’ve imagined havin’ you, tastin’ you, worshippin’ those fuckin’ curves that’ve been drivin’ me insane for the last month, Blue.”

You’re sure you haven’t taken a single breath since he’s started his little speech. It’s hard to know for certain with the pounding between your legs.

But then, as quickly as he arrived, that wild, dominant, filthy version of Joel is gone, carried out with a deep sigh and the hanging of Joel’s head.

“But I can’t,” he says, shaking his head as it hangs between his shoulders. “It’s not right.”

You want to whine. To walk over and shake his shoulders until his brain is mush enough to throw caution to the wind. But you’re too much of an adult for either of those things.

Instead, you handle this the way any horny adult woman would.

You round the island, staying an arms length away from him, and tug the T-shift you’ve been drowning in for the last twelve hours over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Joel’s eyes flutter closed as he stays there, body turned to you but frozen in place.

“Stop,” he begs in a low sigh.

“Is that what you really want?” you ask, stepping close enough that you’re enveloped in his warmth and the rich cedar scent he wears. You bring your hands up to rest on his chest, smoothing over the cotton covering his firm frame. “Or are you saying that because you think it’s what you’re supposed to say?”

His eyes blink open, but they don’t lower to your breasts. Instead he keeps them locked firmly onto yours. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does,” you say, drawing your hands back to your body. Joel’s eyes follow the trail your fingers make as they smooth over your chest, down to cup the weight of your breasts, before plucking your nipples between your index and thumb. He makes a groaning, growly sound at the way you play with yourself, but he makes no move to reach for you. “If you’re worried about me telling people, don’t be.”

“It’s not—I ain’t worried about that,” he sighs, but finally brings his hands to rest on your waist. “Darlin’, I can’t hurt Sarah. If you and I cross this line and she finds out…”

“Unless one of us lets it slip, how could she?” you ask, abandoning your breasts to drag your hands down his stomach to his belt buckle. “Listen, I’m not expecting dinner dates and being shown off, Joel. I know that you’re freshly divorced, and I also know that my job makes it incredibly difficult for me to have a real relationship. But while it’s just the two of us in the comfort of this big, lonely house…I don’t see why we can’t explore this and just keep it between us.”

Joel lets out a humorless, defeated chuckle and leans his forehead to rest against yours. “You‘re killin’ me, Blue.”

Biting your lip, you sink to your knees before him and undo his belt buckle. You expect him to intervene, to stop you before you get hopeful—the pained, at war with himself expression on his face certainly points that way—but he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes bore into yours, dark and heavy and full of want, as he lets you slip the leather from his buckle.

“You’re finally going to let me take what I want?” you ask, your voice soft as though you’re afraid to break the spell you’ve cast on him. Joel’s hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing over your lips before slipping past them—just like that night a week ago. He tastes like syrup, sweet enough to give you a toothache.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, slipping his thumb out of your mouth before hauling you back onto your feet. His hands are all over—one cradling your neck as he kisses the breath out of you, the other palming your breast as he backs you towards the kitchen table.

“What—“ You’re cut off by Joel’s firm arms hoisting you onto the sturdy wood as if you weighed no more than a feather. It’s the first time you’ve ever been manhandled this way, with such confidence, ease, and blatant desire. It’s intoxicating and addictive, the way he looks at you like you’re his next meal.

“You’re outta your goddamn mind if you think I’m lettin’ you taste me before I get to taste you,” he drawls, smirking as he seats himself at the head of the table—right in front of where he’s placed you in front of him like an entree. “I’m not a selfish lover, darlin’, but I am selfish about one thing.”

Pressing you back against the wooden tabletop, you gasp as he grips your thick hips and yanks you close enough to run the bridge of his nose up your clothed seam. You sit up in your elbows to watch as he hooks his fingers into the band of your shorts, tugging them and your panties off in one go.

“This pretty pussy…” He licks his lips as his thumb runs through your wetness. “Yeah, I’m selfish when it comes to this.”

JOEL

I’ve lost my mind.

That, or I died from a heart attack the minute she brought up sucking my cock and went straight to heaven.

Either way, it’s brought me face to face with the prettiest pussy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Glistening, pink, and spread open, she’s perfect. I lean in to drag my nose along the seam of her inner thigh just to smell the womanly, erotic scent of her arousal and my cock aches in response.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” I groan lathing my tongue over her plump lip, avoiding where I know she’s throbbing for me. “You smell so fuckin’ sweet. You gonna taste that sweet, too?”

She moans, dragging a hand through my hair and tugging on the strands until my eyes are brought to hers. “Don’t make me beg.”

I smile, running a hand up and down her outer thigh.

“Why not?” I goad, blowing on her swollen clit. “I think I like the idea of you beggin’ me to lick this pretty pussy.”

She groans, the sound animalistic and desperate, and throws her head back like she can’t stand to look in my eyes when I’m talking like this.

“You’re not playing fair,” she whines, tugging at my hair again.

“Come on, Blue,” I taunt, bringing a thumb up to her clit and pressing just hard enough to make her moan again. “Beg for it, and I’ll give you what you’re wantin’.”

“Please,” she moans, bucking her hips up to try and catch my mouth off guard.

“Please what?” I’m toying with her now, but after her little performance earlier, I think I’ve well earned the right to play with my food a little.

She’s already tempted me into joining her on a one-way ticket to hell. Might as well enjoy the ride.

“Please touch me,” she snaps, half irritated and half desperate. I press my thumb harder into her clit, but it’s still not enough to keep her from trying to guide my mouth to her cunt. “Joel, fuck.”

“I’m touchin’ you, ain’t I? This s’what you wanted, ain’t it?”

“Joel,” she almost cries, though it sounds just as close to laughter as it does frustration. “Please eat my fucking pussy.”

I grin at her from across her curvy body, her eyes full of ire and lust. “Now, was that so hard?”

Her breath catches as I lower my mouth to her weeping seam, dragging my tongue up the length of it to gather her wetness on it before I pull away and spit on her cunt.

“Look at this pretty fuckin’ pussy,” I murmur before diving in for another taste. Swirling my tongue around her clit, I savor her sweet taste and swallow it down with a groan as I suck on her swollen bud.

It’s been so long since I had a woman spread out for me like this. Too fucking long, judging from the way my dick is leaking and throbbing in the confines of my jeans. I’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of the day right here on this seat, tasting, exploring, learning her favorite spots.

But like all good things that are handed to me by fate, they’re quickly taken back.

Just as I’m gearing up to slide my fingers into the tight, warm, fluttering heat of her cunt, we’re interrupted by a few urgent knocks on the front door and the sound of Blue’s phone going off.

We both jump at the noise—me out of my seat, and Blue off the table. I watch as she slips her shirt on and sprints toward Sarah’s bedroom with her phone pressed against her ear. I only catch her answering with an out of breath hello before she shuts herself away and leaves me to answer the door.

After making sure my belt’s buckled again, there’s no tent in my jeans, and I don’t still have Blue’s arousal all over my beard, I swing the front door open to greet whatever monster that decided to show up at my doorstep right fucking now.

Except, it’s not a monster standing on my doormat with worried eyes and the phone pressed to her ear.

It’s my daughter.

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guess-my-next-obsession · 17 days ago

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blue. | chapter five

pairing: bfd!joel miller x curvy!fem!reader

chapter warnings: series is 18+ only, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader's age is set at 25, joel is 40), best friend's dad trope, reader works at a bikini bar (race is a blank slate but reader is described as being curvy/plus size and is very much comfortable in her skin), divorced!joel, dual POV, pining, fantasizing, robbery, allusions to sexual harassment/stalking, angst, dirty talk, soft dom!joel, oral sex (fem rec.) 🌶️🌶️🌶️/🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️