#CN!Joel Miller

[toxicanonymity]

busted (jailbird one shot)

2.5k WORDS, JOEL "JOJO" MILLER x f!READER SUMMARY: You roleplay as cop and sex worker. WARNINGS: I8+, no plot just smut, roleplay, manhandling, handcuffs, bj, unsafe PIV, creampie, fluff. writer chooses not to warn in further detail, read at your own risk. Read alone or see jailbird masterlist for relationship & reader history. NOTES: On hiatus, but this has been in my tumblr drafts since 3/20. Ty for the ask. They've both served time. This happens while Joel's aunt/your former cellmate is still locked up. Ty again to everyone who made me write cellmate's nephew (history) 💀. Divider by @saradika-graphics. @toxicfics for notifications.

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You sit on Joel’s bed alone, wearing a short skirt, a lace bra, and fishnet stockings he already ripped wide open the last time you wore them. You finish lacing up your boots, tuck a wad of cash into your bra, and get a tictac mint from your purse. Then you put on the bag and close the bedroom door behind you as you leave. 

As you walk into the living room, the front door opens. You realize you’re holding your breath and feel silly. Your heart skips a beat when he steps through the door. 

He pauses long enough for you to take in his whole form. . .tattooed arms swelling out from the sleeves of his slutty, blue uniform. Your eyes fall to his crotch as he turns to face you. The tight polyester pants leave little to the imagination. The whole, massive outline is visible atop his thigh, straining the fabric. He smooths his mustache and tilts his head, checking you out. Then he keeps a straight face as he steps toward you and says,

“‘S’cuse me, miss. Can I see some ID?”

Your heart flutters. You’ve played the part so many times. Played lots of parts. You're used to being who the client needs. But here you are with a little stage fright in front of your boo. And Jesus Christ, there’s something about his prison tattoos bursting out of that uniform. 

You stand still in the middle of the room and he slowly paces around you. A few feet away, but close enough to smell the cigarette he must have enjoyed outside and the cologne he reserves for date nights. The sight and smell of him makes you tingle. His touch might make you physically swoon. He clears his throat, and your face heats up. You lock eyes with him, and there’s a sparkle in his gaze, but he manages to hold firm, not breaking. 

“I, um – I have it somewhere.” You rifle through your bag.

“What’s that in your brassiere, ma’am?” He takes a baton off his hip and gestures to your bra cup. Your chest is lightly dusted in a caramel flavored shimmer powder.  

“Oh,” you stammer, looking away.  “I dunno why I put this here when I have a purse,” you mutter, half out of character.

“Just what I was thinkin’,” he cocks an eyebrow at you. He begins to stalk around you again, getting a little closer with each step, closing in on you. Then, he holsters his baton and stands behind your back, close enough to feel his body heat. You turn your face to the side and his scent wraps around you. 

His hardness lightly grazes you, and you push your ass back instinctively. His left hand comes to your hip as his right hand snakes around your torso.  His voice is deep and gruff.

“I’m thinkin’ this is dirty money.”

He trails his fingers slowly up your sternum, then over the curve of your left breast to your black push-up bra. You watch the faded barbed wire flex on his hand as he slides two fingers into the bra cup, retrieving the cash. He lowers his volume and his lips brush the shell of our ear. “Real dirty, honey.” 

“It’s nothing,” you shake your head, getting into a better rhythm. 

“Lemme take this off your hands,” he offers and lifts the strap of your purse off your shoulder. He stuffs the cash in it and tosses the purse to Mabel’s easychair. The tictacs rattle as it lands. He returns behind you, and this time, both hands go to your hips.

“I’m thinkin’ we can work somethin’ out,” he murmurs. His hands meander up your sides, then back down. He holds onto your hips and pulls you back against him, lightly grinding his hard length against your skirt, making you throb. 

“Fuck, Jo,” you whine in a whisper, pushing back on him like you shouldn't be. He exhales what you're pretty sure is a laugh. You can picture his smile. You're not ready to throw in the towel on this scene. You compose yourself and ask, “What are you doing?” You step forward, away from him, then turn around with a glare. 

He slowly rubs his arousal and adjusts himself. Then he puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight. He looks you up and down, slowly shakes his head, and clucks his tongue.  

“Y’know, I didn’t wanna have to do this.”  He reaches behind his back for his cuffs, and you head for the door. 

He grabs you by the arm, and you continue to pull away. 

“No,” you protest emptily, tingling at the thought of him getting rougher.

He wraps a strong arm around you and you keep squirming. He lets you pull away toward the door until you’re up against it. He presses his weight against you with a forearm on your upper back and warns, “Resisting arrest?” 

He wrangles your arms behind your back, and the cold metal edge makes you shiver as your first wrist is cuffed. The second cuff clicks into place and he tightens them. Your cuffed hands desperately feel around the front of his pants, and he shifts his hips to help you find what you're looking for. You softly moan when your palm meets the hard length in his pants. 

“So now ya wanna be good,” he taunts, then lets out a barely audible grunt, pressing his hips forward, arousal swelling against your palm.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, officer.” He takes your hands and puts them on your mid back, and you keep them there. He yanks the whole skirt up over your ass in one go, watching your ass drop, fishnet diamonds stretched over it. His hips push forward and his hardness makes you throb. 

“Spread’em,” he commands. 

You widen your stance. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then wedges a hand between you and the door. Your palms rest on his tummy as he shoves his hand between your legs and feels how wet you are through the pre-ruined fishnets. 

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he growls, then cruelly takes his hand away without so much as putting half a finger in you. 

He grabs you by one arm and pulls you over to the sofa. “Knees,” he murmurs, and helps you down onto the carpet. He pats your head then sits down on the sofa with a sigh, manspreading. He splays his arms out on the back of the couch and looks at you affectionately for a moment before his face hardens again. He takes off his fake utility belt in a hurry. 

“Got five minutes to convince me not to take ya in,” he warns, "If ya can handle it." He lifts his hips, giving you a rush of arousal. He pulls at his uniform pants, and they snap open at the side. This must have been quite a hit all those years ago on stage. For you, he's not wearing anything under them. You glance at his hip tattoo. Yeah.

He frees his massive cock and wraps his hand around the clean shaven base. He squeezes it as he looks at you darkly. "Such a bad girl." He scoots toward the edge of the sofa. Your hands are still handcuffed behind your back, skirt still sitting up above your ass.

You lean forward, dip your head, and he feeds you his cock. You slurp the fat head into your mouth and he sighs, watching you with a softening scowl. "Fuck yeah," he breathes. His knees bracket you and help you balance with no use of your hands as you bob your head. He moans as you suck him. You stretch your jaw, sucking at the smooth, salty tip, then take a few inches into your mouth and hold it, feeling him throb. "God damn," he curses softly. You suck with the back of your throat and carefully take as much as you can, expertly swallowing his length. You take him so deep that your lips brush his shaved pubic skin, and your eyes prickle with tears.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Get up here.” 

You slowly let his cock out of your mouth, and a string of slobber falls away with it.

He grabs your arms and helps you stand. He could stand to be rougher about it. But he's all but abandoning character, overtaken by the way you make him feel. The real you.

He helps you balance as you kneel onto the sofa, straddling him with your thighs spread wide. His breaths are heavy and getting heavier as he eyes your tits and the front closure of your bra. 

He sits up straight. He wraps an arm around you and interlaces his fingers with one of your cuffed hands. "Doin' so good, baby." With his other hand, he swiftly unhooks the front clasp of your bra, and the cups break apart, letting your tits fall out.  He takes a nipple into his mouth, then passionately licks and kisses his way up to your mouth. He palms one breast as he sucks the other and holds your hand behind your back. He pulls you right against him so your clit presses against his warm, hard cock and it makes him moan against your breast as he throbs against you.

He moves you, grinding his cock on your clit. He kisses your breast again, then drags his nose up your chest and feverishy kisses you everywhere on his way to your neck, where he sucks you long and slow. He lets go of your hand and slides his hand down, reaching under your ass to your cunt, where he slides his fingers through your slick then spreads you open for him.

He maneuvers you up to get clearance for his cock. He runs the tip through your slick, then massages your clit with it before notching at your entrance. You twitch at the contact, then begin to sink onto him and he pulls you down with a grunt.

"That's my girl," he breathes.

His lips find yours, and the kiss is long and slow with him seated fully inside you. He moves you on his cock, and his hips roll under you at a slow rhythm, stretching you with his girth, making you twitch already. You break the kiss with a moan.

You look down between your bodies, then purr, “is it hot in here, officer?” 

“God you're fuckin’ hot,” he gushes with urgency.  He reaches in his shirt pocket for the key to the handcuffs and wraps his arms around you. His cock twitches and he fumbles around as he uncuffs you. You rip open his snap button uniform top, then cradle his face and your lips smash back together and his tongue finds yours. He pulls you close. Your tits press into his chest and you moan into his mouth as you roll your hips.

You sigh and curse and moan against each other's mouths as you ride him.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “I coulda came soon as ya—fuck–the way you were clawin’ around for my cock just to feel it—ohhhh.”

He playfully plucks at the fishnets then kneads your ass as you fuck. He lets you take the lead, sliding his hands down to your legs, then your boots. He sighs, "Ohh, baby," as you ride him.

“Yeah,” you breathe, feeling sharply on the edge already, with his cock inside you and the ghost of it pressed up against you through those pants. 

“Ohh, fuck,” he pants, “yeah.” His flesh fills yours so perfectly, stretching you around him. Your body wetly hugs his length as he smoothly thrusts up into you. He growls into your neck, “I can't get enough’a ya.” You card your fingers through his hair. 

“God you feel good,” you gush. “So fucking good. He’s kissing your neck wet and sloppy now. You both breathe audibly. "God, I love this cock," you pant. Your breath is shallow with your pending peak. You grind against him, then let it overtake you. “Fuck,” you breathe as your walls flutter around him. 

He groans as you come on his cock.  As you finish your peak, he’s clearly holding back. You look down at his inked torso glistening. 

You both watch where your bodies meet, and you tell him, “i want you to come.”

“c'mere” he takes your jaw in one hand, and brings your lips back to his. He holds you tight, kissing you for a few thrusts, then his lips fall apart to moan and breathe vocally as he fucks you.

He pulses inside, pinching his eyes shut. He groans into your cheek, and you finger his curls as he pumps you full. Then you relax into his arms.

-

You share a long moment without words, and he holds your head. Then he uses his chest to push you slightly off him. He looks you in the eyes, then does a double take down to your tits and dips his head to kiss one before returning his attention to your face. 

You're still on his cock, and the stretch persists even as he slowly softens.

He looks back and forth between your eyes and blurts out, “you should move in.” 

You laugh in shock. 

“‘m’serious, baby,” he says with a smile. You bite away another laugh and his smile fades. He whispers, “Dead serious.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, then breaks away to await your answer. 

You haven't thought about it, really. Not yet, anyway. But it doesn't feel out of the question. You glance over to Mabel’s chair. 

“She knows,” he assures you. It doesn't make a difference right now, but you pray she'll get paroled sooner rather than later. 

“Just think about it,” he offers. 

You nod and bite your lip, running your hand through his hair affectionately, still plugged by his cock. "Tempting," you smile.

“I'm a lucky man either way,” he says.

Your face heats up, and you reflexively lighten the conversation. “Why’d ya cuff me if ya wanted me on top,” you laugh.

“Hell if I know what I want,” he admits. He kisses your neck then murmurs, “Just want ya every which way all the time.”

thank you for reading, and thank you for your support. love you guys <333. my tag list is gone for real this time, sorry. I'm also on a break from writing & reading but had this in my drafts.

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter ten: a hidden gem, my own goldmine

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 10k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), polite southern manners, feeling familial and self-pressure, ESTABLISHED relationship FINALLY, spanish cause joel is latino, fingering, unprotected p in v, dirty talkkk king joel miller, soft (and soft dom) joel, possessive joel, mentions of depression diagnosis and symptoms, struggling with self, discussion of co-parenting, angst, MAJOR doubt! and a slumber party! yay!

a/n: thank you as always to the bestie/cousin/sister wife/sweet, sweet gf @northernbluess for beta-reading this chapter, seriously i can't write without you so you're stuck with me. also this chapter is a little heavier in spanish then before, so if there are any corrections needed, please comment or message me! i went through multiple translations to try to find the best/most common, but things are bound to slip through the cracks.

Joel’s been catching up with some chores around the house this evening after Sarah’s gone to bed: dishes are washed and put away, counters wiped down and floors mopped. He reset the living room after he put the laundry in the dryer, settling onto the couch with a long sigh. Hands rub at his tired eyes, muscles aching for his bed but he is determined to stay up until you text him that you’re back at your friend’s house safe.

A few of your friends from college ended up with jobs in Austin, and tonight you’d all arranged to go out downtown. You had, sweetly, invited Joel to tag along but when you mentioned that the only other guys there would be boyfriends of your friends that were your age, he politely declined. Well, he used his daughter as an excuse because he didn’t want to admit that he was a little insecure about the age difference, even still.

It’s not even a large one, you’re twenty-five  and he’s thirty-three, but with a nearly ten year old kid and his own business, he’s willing to bet he’s in a much different place in life than your friends' significant others. And if there isn’t a lot of common ground, Joel knows he’s not the most social or conversational.

Resting his eyes, his head rolls back onto the couch while the TV drones on about the latest Astros game. A short buzz from his phone in his pocket peels his eyes open, yawning quietly as he fishes the device out and flips it open.

FROM: Mariposa

Cn u pcik me up pLs????

While deciphering your drunk text, another couple are delivered and he keys down to see them as he chuckles at the antics. 

I miiss u

Eveynoe is w their BFs n I wnt mine 

Plesaseeeeeee J

Before he can type a response to you, an incoming call blocks out his screen, his thumb hitting the accept button quickly and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Feelin’ alright, Mari?”

A hiccup on the other line makes him laugh quietly again, your voice coming in over the music and people in the background, “No, not alright. M’sad.”

“Why’re you sad, sweet girl?”

“Cause you’re not here. Every—everybody’s…No I didn’t want a vodka water, gross! I wanna vodka soooooda with lime…Oops, sorry J. What was I saying?” A giggle from your end pulls a smile on his face, only slightly worried at your level of intoxication.

“You were telling me why you’re sad.”

“Right! M’sad cause all my friends have got their boy—” One hiccup. “Boyfriends here. And you’re aaaallllll the way at home.” Another hiccup. “I wanna be home with you.”

“I see. Well, I don’t want you to be sad, darlin’, so m’gonna come pick you up. How’s that sound?”

He hears a gasp into the phone and your voice gets quieter, imagining you holding the phone or turning your head away to a nearby friend.

“He’s coming! Jus’ to pick me up though, we gotta get back for Sar—Sarah…Yeah, she’s so cute…Well, yeah duh, he’s a DILF…I mean, to me I guess he’d be a DIAF…‘Dad I Am Fucking’…Oh, shit!” There’s a rustling as he laughs to himself overhearing your conversation, a smug smile on his face from you bragging to your friends. “M’sorry, J, god I totally forgot I was on the phone!” You punctuate your sentence with an incredulous laugh before quieting down to hear Joel.

“That’s alright, Mari. M’gonna drop Sarah with Tommy and then come and get you, okay? Can you tell me where you are?” Joel is already standing from the couch, grabbing his keys from the entryway before making his way upstairs to get Sarah into the car.

“Ummm…One sec!” The line rustles again while he stands at the top of the stairs. “Okay, we’re at that place on 11th, Nickel City.”

“Yeah, I know where that is, sweetheart. Be there soon, okay?”

“Okay. Tha—” One last hiccup. “—nks, J.”

“Anytime, amor. Anytime.”

With Sarah dropped off at Tommy’s, Joel goes into town to pick you up. It takes another twenty minutes from Tommy’s place, finding a parking spot not too far from the bar. He slips in the door and starts to comb his eyes over the crowd, most people stepping out of his way from his intimidating frame while he weaves through the masses.

Spotting you off to the side at a high-top table, some friends he recognizes from your photos dotted around the surface as well. You’re wrapped up in a conversation with the person next to you while you sit on a stool, Joel’s eyes finally landing on the person you’re talking to. It’s another man, about his height, maybe a few inches shorter. He’s got light hair, a clean-cut look with some fancy shirt on. Clearly, the guy is flirting with you, standing closer and leaning an arm around the back of your chair. Knowing how drunk you sounded over the phone, it occurs to him that you likely don’t even realize this guy’s body language, a primal possessiveness taking over his judgment. 

He’s waited years for you. There’s no way in hell he isn’t putting on a show for this guy to send him a message.

Joel rolls his shoulders back, chest raising with the corrective posture. He saunters over to the table, politely smiling and waving as your friends must recognize him and welcome him to the group. He walks right up to the other side of your chair, placing a hand on your lower back and brushing against the skin exposed by the tank top you’re wearing.

A small gasp exhales from you with the surprise contact, turning your head and beaming when you see him. The look makes the wings of his butterfly flap faster, beating in time with his heartbeat.

“You’re here! M’so happy to see you.” He matches your smile before he is crushed in a hug, your arms around his neck. Unraveling from each other, you turn back toward the other man, before one of your other friends comes over to tell you something, pulling you away but still within arm’s length for Joel to keep his hand on you.

Joel reaches his hand out toward the man,  “Nice to meet you…”

“Colton.”

“Nice to meet you, Colton. Are you one of the college friends?”

Colton gives a weak handshake to Joel, shaking his head with a laugh, “No, actually, never met any of ‘em until tonight. Well, except Taylor. M’relatively new to town, met Taylor through work, so you know how it is. Trying to make some connections.”

Joel has to hold back his eye roll, annoyance clear on his face at the skirting around that this Colton is doing. Joel’s heard it before from Tommy — going up to a girl and using the ‘new in town’ line to get a conversation started and to hopefully get them to leave with you to ‘show you around’.

Mine. You’re mine, he repeats to himself, the jealousy pumping in his veins.

“So’re you one of the college friends? Or an Austin friend?” Colton makes polite conversation while you turn in Joel’s arm and wrap your own around his back. Tugging on his t-shirt the fingers of one of your hands slip under the material and skim across his skin. Joel clears his throat, chuckling dryly as he keeps his gaze on Colton.

“Uh, not quite. M’the boyfriend.” His head nods to his side to you, a tight, smug smile on his face as he watches the gears in Colton’s head turn.

It’s not happening for him tonight. Or ever.

“Oh shit! You must be Joel! We’ve been waiting for you. I’ve just been making sure she’s had some water and didn’t wander off before you got here. She’s been talkin’ about you all night, made me think about how many times I’ve drunkenly ranted about my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, Taylor’s my girlfriend — she’s the one with blonde hair right across the table.” Colton beams down the way as Taylor makes eye contact with him, waving to the woman as she smiles back at him.

The man is a golden retriever. And Joel thought he was some douchebag trying to hook up with his girlfriend. Joel opens his mouth to apologize for his cold behavior, but before he can your head pops up from his chest, grabbing his attention. Hands at his back scratch your nails against his skin, humming contently as you press a sloppy kiss to his jaw.

Colton considers his duties relieved and goes to find his girlfriend before Joel can thank him, leaving the two of you at the end of the table. Joel pulls his chin in to look down at you, smiling softly and moving a hand to the back of your neck.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, jus’ happy you’re here. Missed you.”

Joe presses a kiss to your forehead and you hum again, swaying sleepily in his arms. “M’glad you called me, Mariposa.”

“Can we go home now please?”

“Yeah, Mari, ‘course we can. You want me to bring you to your house?” His hands move to your sides, running up and down against the fabric of your tank top. You hook your arms around his neck and shake your head, a tiny “humpf” accompanying it.

“No, home.”

“My house?”

“Yes! Home. Wanna sleep in your bed, s’comfier than mine.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I can bring you home.”

A warm stirring is felt in his chest, steadying you in your stance and keeping an arm around your waist. You say goodbye to your friends, all of them waving to you both as Joel steers you through the bar and to his truck outside.

Joel calls Tommy on the way home, his brother telling him that Sarah’s out cold and he can bring her back in the morning when she wakes up. He presses for an answer about why Joel had to drop Sarah off, but Joel ignores Tommy’s question again and hangs up.

Safely back at his house, he helps you out of the truck and inside, walking behind you on the stairs as you stumble. It’s like a baby deer learning to walk — he’s never seen you this drunk, tipsy, sure, but never at this level. A smile crosses his face as he imagines a moment like this in the future with you, maybe after a night out for the two of you or maybe even after your wedding.

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, tripping over your feet at the landing and recovering on your own. His hand hovers at your back, ready to break your fall if it happens.

“I’m alright, m’alright. Jus’ tripped a lil’.”

To be safe, Joel holds your hips the rest of the way up and into his room, sitting you on the edge of the mattress and gathering a t-shirt from his drawers for you to wear to bed.

“No, I want the funny one that I like,” you whine, waving a hand back at his dresser. Joel shakes his head to himself, chuckling about the fact that you still have a preference for sleep attire.

He grabs the shirt you’re talking about, a worn and washed one that he got as a joke from Tommy a few years ago. He normally wears it to sleep himself, if he wears one, or around the house if he knows he won’t be going out. It’s faded black now, yellow text that reads ‘I do know it all…I just can’t remember it all at once.’

Upon finding it in his drawer last week, you laughed hysterically and made him put it on for a Polaroid. You’ve also requested it every time you’ve stayed over since. 

In front of you again, with the correct shirt, he kneels down and pats the outside of your thighs. “Can you stand for me, sweetheart?”

Using his shoulders as support, you stand on sea legs, swaying back and forth as he looks up at you. “Can I take off your skirt, darlin’?”

“Yeah, you can, cutie.” You giggle and sway wider, playing with the curls at the top of his head, turning his head to your will as he unbuttons and unzips your denim skirt. “You got some grays mixed in here, mister.”

“M’getting old, Mari. No surprises there.” He chuckles and helps you lift each foot to step out of the tube of material completely, rubbing a hand on your calf before he stands in front of you again. He’s faced with a pout, brows knit together in anger.

“You’re not getting old. You’re literally in your thirties. Not old.”

“Say that to the gray hairs then, sweetheart.”

“Gray hairs—“ Hiccup. “Mean nothing ‘sides the fact that you’re gonna be a silver fox. My silver fox.”

A content smile, closed lips, pulls the corners of your mouth up. Heavy eyelids cover your irises halfway, the sight of you so drunkenly drowsy is utterly adorable to him. Fingers grip the bottom of your tank top, kissing your forehead.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Take it all off, bay-beeee.” Your swaying causes you to stumble again, Joel catching you before you fall back onto the bed. Once you’re steady, your own hands slip under his shirt, running over his tummy while you press sloppy kisses into his neck. “Mm, want you so bad, J.”

“I love you, darlin’, and you know I want you all the time, but not tonight. You need to get some water and go to sleep. For a while.” A defeated sigh blows against his skin, rocking back on your heels and Joel holding your weight to bring you to stand straight again. “Arms up, baby.”

You comply without another ask, lifting your arms as if they’re heavy weights, allowing Joel to tug the material over your head. With a slight slap sound, your arms drop back against your sides. Joel takes off your bra for you and gets you into his t-shirt, giving you a small kiss. He walks you to your side of the bed, tucking you in.

“Be right back, sweet girl. Gonna get you some water and then you can go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay.” You sigh, nesting into the sheets and duvet. Your eyes close, soft hums filling the room as he runs downstairs, filling a glass of water and grabbing ibuprofen to leave at your bedside for the morning.

Returning to his room, he coaxed you to sit up, having you drink half the glass. He changes for bed himself, stripping down to his boxers and slipping under the covers, pulling you closer with an arm around your waist.

“G’night, Mari.”

“Mm, night, J. Thanks for coming to get me and bringing me home. Like sleeping next to you lots more than a sleepover with my friends…”

“Like sleeping next to you too, Mari. Missed you all night. M’glad you’re home now.”

“Nightie night.”

“Nightie night, sweet girl. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” He pinches your side playfully, breathing a laugh out of his nose at your yelp and squeezing you closer. With a kiss to the top of your head, he lulls you to sleep with his fingertips running up and down your spine, thoughts going right back to those flash images of a future with you.

“Love you, Mariposa.”

There’s an ache all over your body, eyes too sore and crusted over with sleep to peel open when you first wake up. Light peeks through the curtains, shining onto the bed and directly at your face, making you groan into the pillow and attempt to roll over.

Unfortunately, your body is telling you to get up, find water or pain meds or some coffee, you really wouldn’t be all too picky at this moment. Rolling over onto your back, you reach out to your side and feel bedding underneath your hand, pouting to yourself when you finally open your eyes and see Joel’s gone. As you sit up, you can hear the shower turn on in the bathroom attached to his bedroom and you can hear some quiet humming from the other side of the door. A smile crosses your face, the idea of a shower nestling itself in your mind and feeling like it would be the only thing to get rid of all of this hangover.

On the nightstand next to you, there are two burgundy-colored tablets and a half glass of water, vaguely remembering last night when Joel made you drink the other half before going to sleep. Washing down the ibuprofen with the entirety of the water, you start to recount what you can recall from the night before, cringing internally when you get to the point that Joel showed up to pick you up. You don’t really remember getting home, but looking down at the t-shirt you’re wearing clues you in that Joel must have done most of the work to get you into bed.

Slipping out from under the duvet, you set the empty glass back down and slink over to the bathroom, twisting the knob and opening the door. The squeak of the hinges breaks your sneaking attempt and Joel’s humming stops.

He speaks up over the sound of the water, “Mariposa? That you?”

“I sure hope no one else would be sneaking into the bathroom this morning. Unless you have another drunk girlfriend you had to pick up from the bar,” you laugh at the self-deprecating joke, picking up your toothbrush and squeezing out a dollop of toothpaste to clean your teeth. And to get rid of the taste of tequila lingering on your tongue.

The shower curtain slides back a bit and Joel’s head sticks out, goofy grin on his face with curls hanging on his forehead. “Nah, just got the one. How’re feeling this morning?”

“Like I got beat up by a bunch of vodka sodas and a couple of tequila shots.” Your words are muffled around the foamy toothpaste, leaning back against the counter facing him.

“Yeah, you were pretty drunk, darlin’. But it was honestly cute, you’re a funny drunk.”

Turning back toward the sink, you fold over the sink to spit out and rinse your mouth out, groaning softly, “God, please tell me I didn’t do or say anything embarrassing.”

“Nothin’ too bad, but there were some things that I will be committing to memory,” Joel laughs and winks, the noise getting louder as you groan again and roll your head back.

“This is the worst part about getting drunk. People holding stupid shit you said over your head.” Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you look at Joel across the few feet separating you and watch him shake his head and grin sweetly.

“I’ll tell you what you said, sweetheart, but I think you’re in too physically fragile of a state right now.”

“God, you are right about that,” you sigh and shake your head, propping yourself off the counter you were leaning on, crossing the tiles to be only a foot from Joel’s face, “Can I join you? A shower sounds like exactly what I need right now.”

He nods quickly, halfway through the question and you chuckle at the antics, pulling the t-shirt over your head and slipping off your panties to leave both in a heap with Joel’s clothes. He opens the curtain for you and steps back toward the other wall while you close the curtain and drag yourself under the stream of water.

A sigh relaxes your chest and shoulders, closing your eyes as you let the warm water run all over you. Joel’s hands brush across your skin, the feeling of his work-worn palms sending a tingle of excitement down your skin and chilling your body even under the hot water. His thumbs cup under your breasts while the rest of his fingers splay out on your ribcage, tips of them toward your back as he holds you closer to him.

“Mm, you’re so beautiful, d’you know that, mi Mariposa? La mujer más hermosa del mundo (The most beautiful woman in the world),” Joel mumbles against your skin when he nestles into the crook of your neck, curving his back to fit with you perfectly. His hands wander from your ribs, circling around your back and drifting down to the swell of your ass where they settle with a gentle squeeze.

“I think I’m getting better at Spanish 'cause I understood that. And it was very sweet, thank you, J. I think you’re the most beautiful man in the world.” You giggle and feel Joel exhale a chuckle against your neck, peppering slow and spaced kisses along your shoulder.

“You also told me something else about what you think of me last night. Well, it was to one of your friends but you were still on the phone with me so I heard,” he stretches to full height again with a smug smirk, squeezing your ass again as you sigh.

“Oh god, what did I say to you? Did I feed your massive ego?” you tease, bringing your hands up to his shoulders and lightly scratching your nails against his skin.

“I learned that I am a DILF last night. Or according to you, I am a DIAF to you. Dad I Am Fucking.” He can barely get the last sentence out around his loud laugh, your embarrassed reaction of wide eyes and jaw dropped egging him on more.

“Stop, I cannot believe I said that. And that you heard! You’re never going to let me live that down.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. Not a chance,” Joel can’t wipe the giggly smile off of his face as he continues, “Oh, and you also were definitely really into me getting you into pajamas last night. I asked if I could take off your shirt and you said ‘Take it all off bay-beeee’. Which was very tempting.”

“Oh my god, if you don’t stop telling me all of this right now, I won’t take anything off for you again.” It’s a thinly veiled threat, both of you know it holds zero weight.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”

“Thank you,” you breathe out as you turn toward the shelf in the shower, reaching for the body wash before Joel intercepts your hand, holding it in his and lowering it to your side. He presses his chest to your back, the contact also nudging his hard cock into the flesh of your ass.

“Y’know, I woke up this morning after you were all over me last night with a fucking hard on. Aching for you. And then you come in here and ask to join me in the shower, made it come right back…” he leans down, kissing your shoulder, up your neck and to your ear, “D’you still want me, Mariposa? Hm?”

One of his hands drifts to your inner thighs, coaxing your legs apart and swiping two fingers from your entrance to your clit. Your arousal coats his fingers, a quiet whimper leaving your lips in an exhale, eyes closing and head rolling back against his shoulder.

“You still want me, mi dulzura? Feels like you do,” his lips are against your ear, voice low and gravelly, and he slowly circles your clit as you continue to whimper and writhe in his arms, “Sounds like you do, too, mi amor. Y’know, we have the whole house to ourselves, Mariposa. I want you to be loud for me while I touch you. Understand?”

Lost in the sparks of pleasure slowly building, your words get caught in your throat as one of your arms reaches up to wrap around to the nape of his neck. At the lack of response to his question, Joel pinches your clit before pulling his hand away.

“No, no, no, please. I understand. I’ll be loud for you, J. Please touch me…”

You grip the curls at the back of his head, biting your lip and opening your eyes again to look at Joel’s head at your side. His hand comes back, his thumb rubbing your clit while his middle finger sinks into you until the first knuckle. He keeps his eyes on your face, slowly working the finger in and out of your cunt, never giving it to you fully.

“Fuck, don’t tease me, Joel. Please, pretty please, gimme more.”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, his nose nudging at your cheek to turn your head straight toward the tiled wall, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

“You want more, Mariposa?”

“Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Mm, and are you going to be good? Give me all your pretty sounds that I love?” Joel pushes his entire middle finger into you now, holding it there, “If I give you what you want, you gotta be loud for me, pretty girl.”

“I will, I promise.” You wiggle your hips to get any more friction building, grumbling in frustration when Joel’s other arm tugs your hips back against him, strapping you to him like a seatbelt. The thumb against your clit leaves, and as you’re about to complain again, Joel adds another finger and starts to thrust them in and out frenetically, the heel of his palm rubbing the sensitive bud at the front of your folds.

A sinful moan rolls from your gut, bouncing off of the walls of the shower and drowning out the sound of the water for a few seconds. You can feel Joel’s satisfied smirk against your skin, his mouth dipping to the crook of your neck to suck at your pulse point and leave his mark. His hand continues its rapid pace, your legs bending as they start to give out the closer you reach to the edge. To attempt to hold your weight, you lean your arms against the tiles, feeling yourself being held up by Joel’s arm tightened across your hips.

“Fuck, Joel, feels so fucking good. Oh!” Your voice pitches up when his fingers graze that spot inside your walls, the sound catching in your throat. Joel pushes deeper with his fingers, hooking them to find that same spot and petting against it with small strokes of his fingers. The sounds coming from you are uncontrollable, head falling back against his shoulder as a mess of his name, lustful whimpers and whines, and wanton moans echo in the steaming shower.

“That’s it, pretty girl, I can feel how close you are. Nearly squeezing my fingers out of ya.” Joel’s small groan vibrates against your shoulder, his hard-on being pressed into your back and leaking pre-cum. You can feel yourself clench around his fingers, the edges of your vision blurring as you near your peak. “Gonna come for me, Mari? Gonna be a good girl and come all over my hand so you can be ready for my cock?”

His words are the final push, pleasure oozing around his fingers and dripping down your folds, warmth spreading in your body as your nerve endings tingle. You can hear yourself moaning his name, small encouragements spoken in your ear as Joel continues to fuck his fingers into you throughout your orgasm. When you’re fully present in your body again, Joel slips his fingers out of you slowly, turning your head and kissing you deeply.

“Need you so fucking bad, Mariposa,” he says against your lips, kissing you fervently before speaking again, “Wanna bend you over and make you take my cock, and you’ll tell me how good it feels filling you up. You want it, pretty girl?”

“Need it, J. Please, I need you so bad.” You kiss him this time, pressing your hips back and grinding against his cock, the rumble of a mouth muffled into your mouth as your tongues meld together. Joel pulls away and grips your hips, turning both of you so his back is facing the stream of water.

“Hands against the wall, amor, arch your back for me—” You follow his instructions with one of his large hands skimming along your spine, folded to an angle at your hips. “That’s it, baby. So good for me.”

Joel takes his cock in his hands, teasing his tip at your entrance and earning a whine from you. A dark laugh is heard faintly from behind you, an equally quiet sigh of relief when he gives you just the tip.

“Mm, fuck, Mari. Estás tan apretado, y húmedo, y cálido. Nunca me voy a cansar de este coño. (You’re so tight, and wet, and warm. I’m never going to get tired of this pussy.)” 

Before you can formulate any sort of response, despite not fully knowing what he said, Joel gives you a few more inches of his cock, stuttering out a moan from you before his hips set a rough, desperate pace. Grunts and groans, moans and whimpers fill the bathroom, your names exchanged back and forth as he fucks you from behind. His hands hold tightly onto your hips, digging in to surely form bruises to match the hickey at your collar, and to keep you from being rammed into the wall with how hard his thrusts are.

“More, fuck, gimme all of it, J. Want you to fill me up, make it hard to fucking walk straight.”

There’s a vibrating rumble that resonates in your own chest, Joel completely pulling out on the downstroke and heaving his chest up and down with shallow breaths.

“Fucking dirty girl. Mi chica sucia. Filthy, baby.” He runs his fingers down the line of your spine, still arched for him. You feel him lined up at your entrance again, whimpering for him and pressing your hips back to try to get him inside. Joel chuckles, shaking his head, “Mm, can’t get enough of my cock, can you, sweetheart? Greedy little thing.”

Your jaw drops open with a toe-curling moan, Joel’s hips thrusting his throbbing cock into your waiting cunt to fill you completely, the same rough and hard pace set as he makes you knock forward and brace against the wall with every movement.

“Take it, darlin’. Oh, fuck, aguantarla. Puedes aguantarla, mi dulzura. (Oh, fuck, take it. You can take it, my sweetness.)” Joel’s head rolls back with another guttural moan, tilting forward to watch his cock disappearing into your dripping hole. “Fuck, such a pretty pussy. And it’s all fucking mine, isn’t that right, Mariposa?”

“Y-Yes! Fuck yeah, it’s all yours, J. No one could ever fuck me like you,” you glance over your shoulder and he makes eye contact, a wide, knowing smile on his face. Your cunt clenches around his cock, his brutal pace hurtling you toward the edge. Just as you’re about to ask for that little bit more, he reads your mind and slips one of his hands around your front, errantly rubbing circles in your clit.

“Can feel you around me, Mari, know you’re close. You gonna let me fill you up with my come? Gonna milk my cock with your tight pussy?”

All you can do is nod, eyes shutting tightly as moans squeak out of you. One hand reaches back to grip his wrist as he keeps you right there at the edge.

“Say it, baby. Say it back to me and I’ll let you come. Give you just what you need.”

A deep breath brings enough air into your lungs to rasp out, “Please fill me up, Joel. Wanna milk your cock of everything you can give me, want you to be dripping out of me all day. Remind me of how only you can have my pussy.”

“Fuck yeah, that’s right, sweetheart. Such a good girl.” Joel eyes that you have a hand bracing you still, letting go of your hip as he fucks you, rubbing your clit continuously. He reaches his free hand around to your mouth, prodding his thumb at your lips and humming when you take it into your mouth and suck. After a minute, he pops out his saliva covered digit and brings it back to your body, pushing into the tight ring of muscle facing him. The sensation of stimulation at all three places barrels you to your high, pussy gripping his cock as everything tenses and pleasure rocks your body and clears your mind.

With the tightness felt in both holes around him, Joel takes one, two, three more thirsts before he’s spilling into you, ropes of come coating your walls and lazy jerks of his hips fucking it deeper into you.

After a moment, Joel pulls out of you slowly, gathering all that dribbles out of you and pushing it back inside with his fingers, causing a shudder down your spine.

The two of you come down from your peaks, the water running cold now. Still needing to clean yourselves, Joel washes your body while you shampoo and condition his hair as he folds over to gently exfoliate your legs. The tasks get swapped, Joel washing your hair while you wash his body.

Stepping out, he grabs a towel for you, wrapping it around you tightly and giving you a sweet, chaste kiss. He gets another towel for himself, both of you drying off and heading back into his bedroom to get dressed again.

You sit on the edge of his bed in your clothes from last night, one of his shirts pulled over your tank top and tucked into your skirt. As you comb your fingers over your wet hair, you look at Joel as he pulls on a pair of jeans standing next to his closet.

“Hey, I have a question for you, actually.”

“Shoot, darlin’.”

“Am I remembering correctly that last night when you came to the bar, you were acting a little jealous toward Colton? Did you think he was flirting with me or something and you got all possessive?” you giggle quietly.

Joel blushes and shakes his head with an overexaggerated eye roll. “Pffft, no. Don’t remember it happening like that, probably a bit clouded in your memory.”

Laughing more, you stand up and cross over to him, hands splayed on his soft tummy and head tilted away from him.

“Oh, sure. Sure, J, we’ll go with that if it makes you feel better.” Reaching up you give his cheek a gentle pat and wink at him, giggling faintly before he gathers you up in his arms and gives you a kiss.

“Good, 'cause it does make me feel better. ‘Sides can you blame me for getting a little jealous? We’ve waited like three years to get this right with each other, m’not letting it go.”

“Me neither, which is why you don’t ever have to be jealous cause it’s only you, baby.” You send him a wink and a grin, giving him a kiss before you both hear the front door open, Tommy’s voice echoing upstairs as he calls out for Joel. He looks down at you, biting his lip.

“I didn’t think he’d be bringing Sarah home this early. Uh, d’you mind that he’s here or should I jus’ say…” he trails off awkwardly, waiting for your thoughts on how to broach the fact that you’re over here, in Joel’s shirt and clearly have stayed the night with your wet hair from the shower.

“If you’re fine with him knowing, we can tell him. That is if Sarah hasn’t spilled the beans already.” Joel laughs faintly and nods, running his hands up and down your arms.

“That is highly possible. But guess we’ll have to find out when we head downstairs. And I’m apologizing now for any stupid shit my brother says.”

“You act like I don’t know Tommy already.”

“You don’t know Tommy as my girlfriend. He’s going to give you some shit, and he’s going to give a lot to me for keeping it from him.”

“Think I can survive Tommy Miller. Now, c’mon, get a shirt on, and let’s go. I need some coffee.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Joel descendsed the stairs ahead of you, rounding the corner into the kitchen and greeting his brother as Tommy pours himself a cup of coffee. Sarah is already at the table, cereal bowl in front her as she eats and reads her book. Joel grabs two mugs from the cabinet, earning a confused look from Tommy before you walk into the room, the confusion melting into mischief. His brother nudges at Joel’s arm and winks.

“Ah, así que esta es la razón de su aventura nocturna en la ciudad. Puedo ver por qué estabas tan desesperada por mi ayuda. (Oh, so this is the reason for your late-night adventure into the city. I can see why you were so desperate for my help.)”

Joel’s eyes roll into the back of his head, “Cállate, Tommy. Necesitaba que la llevaran a casa, así que le di una. (Shut up, Tommy. She needed a ride home, so I gave her one.)”

“Claro, claro. Un paseo. (Sure, sure. A ride.)”

“Pendejo de mierda (Fucking dumbass).”

“¿Qué? No estoy diciendo que haya algo malo en ello. Estoy feliz de ver a su hijo si significa que usted consigue algunos. Finalmente. (What? I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. I am happy to watch your child if it means you getting some. Finally.)” He laughs when Joel glares at him, Tommy crossing over to the table and covering Sarah’s ears. “Además, ella está jodidamente caliente. No sé lo que ve en un viejo como tú. (Plus, she’s fucking hot. Don’t know what she sees in an old man like you.)”

“Yo tampoco. Y deja de hablar de ella así. (I don’t either. And stop talking about her like that.)” Joel’s voice grits out the last sentence, his short fuse being tested with Tommy’s teasing this morning.

“No, realmente, ella es casi diez años más joven y podría conseguir a quien quisiera, pero ¿eres tú? Mejor empieza a apostar por los caballos, hermano. (No, really, she’s almost ten years younger and could get anybody she wanted, but it’s you? Better start betting on the horses, brother.)” His younger brother comes back to stand next to him, picking up his mug and taking a sip.

“Déjalo. (Quit it.)” Joel sends him another glare, grabbing the milk out of the fridge to add some to your cup.

“Maldita sea, tal vez tengo que contratar a una niñera para Sarah cuando está en mi casa. O tal vez la contrate yo mismo. (Damn, maybe I gotta hire a nanny for Sarah when she’s at my house. Or maybe I’ll hire her myself.)”

When Joel looks back at Tommy, he sees him eyeing you as you talk to Sarah at the table, smacking him upside the back of his head.

“Tommy, si no te callas la mierda ahora mismo, lo juro por Dios. (Tommy, if you don’t shut the fuck right now, I swear to god.)”

“Qué? Ella tu novia ahora? (What? She your girlfriend now?)” The young Miller questions, raising an eyebrow.

“Sí, lo es. Así que deja de hablar de lo caliente que es mi novia. (Yeah, she is. So stop talking about how hot my girlfriend is.)” Joel states matter-of-factly, shutting the fridge after returning the jug of milk.

“I understood some of that actually,” you say with a proud smile on your face, one of eager mischief on Tommy’s across the room.

Joel whips his head to you, wide eyes, “What did you understand?”

“You called him an asshole. Something about Sarah. The word girlfriend was thrown in there.”

Joel sighs quietly in relief, picking up your prepared mug of coffee.

“Oh, and something about you being old. And that your brother thinks I’m hot. ” Tommy sputters on his drink as he starts to laugh loudly, a deep blush warming Joel’s cheeks. You walk over to him and take the mug out of his hand, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Cause you’re not old and Tommy just wishes he wasn’t single at thirty years old.”

Joel laughs and Tommy waves your comment off, rolling his eyes before winking at you, “Oh please, you wish you found me before this old man.”

“Sure, Tommy. You can think that all you want, but I met you both on the same day.” Joel barks out a laugh, a smug grin on his face from you holding your own toward Tommy.

Joel looks at his brother, a smile growing on Tommy’s face, “Well, maybe you needed to get your eyes checked that day, Posey. Cause you’d have to be blind to not pick me over the decrepit ass.”

“Y’know, I’m happy to set you up with one of my friends. She likes the type of cute guys who think they’re funny.”

“I know I’m funny, Posey, so not sure if it’s gonna work out. But yes, I would like to be set up with this friend of yours, please…” You laugh and nod, sipping your coffee before answering.

“I’ll work some magic for ya, Tommy.”

“I like this one, Joel, better keep her around so she can be my wingman.”

“You say ‘this one’ as if there have been others,” Joel rolls his eyes and continues, “And I certainly don’t need your advice on that front Tommy. She’s got me as long as she wants me, but please dear god, you should not be his wingwoman. Don’t subject yourself to that torture, Mari.”

The three of you chat to catch up, Tommy genuinely asking about your time in Boston and telling you how glad he is that you’re back around to make his people happy again. The comment swells your heart before your attention is pulled to Sarah as she asks about having a sleepover with you.

“I would love to throw a sleepover with you, sweet pea. I’ll bring over all the goodies to your house and we can stay in your room and watch movies and paint our nails and do all the fun girly things.”

“Yes! And Daddy and Uncle Tommy aren’t allowed ‘cause no boys.” She points at the two of them, both of them frowning and sighing.

“Can I at least be at home, mija?” Joel jokes, and the three of you laugh as Sarah seriously considers her answer.

“Yeah, that’s fine, but you gotta leave us to do the sleepover things ourselves.”

“Deal, Bug. I can do that.”

“Oh yes! It’s all decided then, we’ll have a sleepover when your week at camp is over.” You clap your hands together and grin, already planning everything you need to do this week to prepare for it.

“Damn, Mari, you brought a lot of stuff for one night with Sarah.” Joel eyes you from head to toe, a duffle on your arm, and shopping bags in your hands. He takes the plastic bags from you, holding the back door open for you before following you over to the island to set down all of your purchases. “You do know it’s only Sarah, right, darlin’? None of her friends are coming. This is a practice run for a sleepover.”

“I know, but I wanted to make the first girly sleepover she has at her house fun. I loved having my friends stay over when I was younger, and I dunno, you’re a boy so you don’t get it.” Rustling around in the bags, you start to pull out snacks and candy, along with fun new nail polishes and nail stickers, new hair clips, some young-girl-friendly makeup, and new pajamas for Sarah and you.

“Sweetheart, this is all really nice, but let me give you some money for it all. This is a ton of stuff.” Joel glances at the counter covered in supplies, and before you can answer he’s walking to the front door to get his wallet from the entryway table.

You call out after him, “I’m not going to take it so don’t bother trying! It wasn’t even that much anyway.”

Popping back around the corner into the kitchen, cash in hand, he shakes his head with a mocking laugh, “You’re funny. Even if it was five dollars, I’m giving you ten. Now please take the cash.”

Joel stops in front of you, hand out with a hundred in his hand. A dry laugh leaves your chest, pushing his hand away as you continue to sort through everything from the shops, “Not happening. This was way less than a hundred dollars too, so definitely not accepting that. Go put it back in your wallet, Miller.”

“You’re so goddam stubborn sometimes.”

“Oh, yeah, and you’re not?”

“Hey, I didn’t say that. I know I’m stubborn, that’s why this argument is happening. And why I am about to do this.” Joel steps behind you, slipping the bill into the back pocket of your shorts. You groan, fishing it out and shoving it back in his hand, pushing at his chest.

Joel rebuttals with another attempt, stepping toward you but you step back, backing around to the other side of the counter as he follows closely. You hold your arms out to keep space between the two of you, not being able to hold back a laugh as you start to pick up the pace in your cyclical chase.

“Joel! I’m not taking your damn money, leave it!”

“Mariposa, please, we both know I am way more stubborn than you and m’not gonna stop unless you take it.”

Shaking your head, you turn around to actually move into a speedwalk-jog kind of walk around the kitchen, serpentining your steps.

“Darlin’, I can still catch you if you walk like that.”

“Well, I’d like to see you try.”

Joel takes that statement as a challenge, suddenly catching up with you and wrapping his arms to your front, slipping the bill in the waistband of your shorts before letting you go, putting his hands up in the air.

Wordlessly, you snatch the money from your bottoms, throw it on the counter, and go back to the pile of purchases on the counter. After all of that, you start to unload the drinks in the fridge and open the pantry to throw the sweets and other snacks on one of the shelves. Joel stands and watches you, eyes going back and forth between following your movements to all of the things lying out, including the money.

A feeling kicks up in your chest, tightening your insides with a wring. Small moments send you back to feelings like these, unsupported by actual occurrences but your brain doesn’t care about what actually happens; it prefers the what-ifs. What if this doesn’t last, what if you’re too young, what if you’re too anxious, too broken, too much and it all comes crumbling from under you before you fully realize it? What if this is one of those moments you look back on as a sign? It’s taut and consuming, begging you to say something about it to release the corkscrew.

“If this is too much or if I’m overstepping a — I don’t know — a parental boundary 'cause she’s not my kid, and I know that, of course, but I wanted to do this for Sarah. M’not the nanny that you have to reimburse anymore, I just thought it would be fun to make it like how my sleepovers used to be as a kid…”

Joel’s brows stitch together with what looks like confusion or concern, rounding the kitchen island and standing next to you. A hand on your hip closest to him presses into the flesh there, turning you toward him as the other hand reaches up to tilt your chin to him. Your eyes avoid his, embarrassment heating your body with licks of flames.

“Can you look at me? Please?” His voice is unwavering but shy, boyish. You answer with a flick of up, meeting his own stare. “Mari, sweetheart, this isn’t about anything like that. I know you aren’t ‘the nanny’ anymore, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think you were ever just ‘the nanny’ to either of us. I was being pigheaded, and I didn’t want you to take on doin’ all of this yourself. It’s jus’ automatic for me to want to cover for Sarah, with any sort of activity. Not that I don’t want you to do all of this. I can’t even begin to explain how much it means to me that you care so much for Sarah. I’m just, I’m being her dad. And not giving you the means to do things for her yourself. M’sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, J. I should have better explained myself from the beginning. I want to be a part of your lives, I want to….I don’t know, I don’t want to take the place of her mom, obviously, but I want to be someone she can do girly things with if we’re gonna be together for a while—”

“Not if, Mari. I don’t plan on letting you go without a serious fight,” Joel’s thumb brushes against your cheek as he holds your gaze, “I am so grateful and so relieved that Sarah has someone like you in her life. ‘Specially right now with everything around her mom leavin’, you’re exactly what she needs. What we both need…I will take the money back. But next time we’re splitting it, and every time after that ‘til it’s time that it’s coming outta a joint account.”

When Sarah arrives home from her playdate, Joel retreats upstairs after ordering pizza for the two of you (and him, because he claimed he was gonna sneak down) to watch something on the small tv in his bedroom. You and Sarah changed into your new pajamas and got all of the snacks moved into the living room, trekking blankets and pillows and stuffed animals from her room and around the house to build a nest on the floor in front of the couch.

Sarah had chosen The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants out of the stack of movies you had rented, popping it in and sitting back with you while you had her pick out a color for her nails. The two of you talked about camp and the past school year, her confessing a crush she has on a boy in her camp group this year. There’s only a few details you get from her as you paint her nails, giggling with her when she gets shy and telling her about your first crush.

Sarah eventually is the one to paint your nails, turning out a bit messy and abstract during the process but nonetheless it was fun. As she’s finishing up a second coat on the last nail of yours, the doorbell rings for the pizza and Joel jogs downstairs a minute later to answer the door. Carrying the boxes over to the kitchen after he paid and tipped, he grins at you and nods to the set up.

“Is that every pillow in our house?”

“Well, no, you still have the ones on your bed cause you were sitting on ‘em,” you reply as you walk into the kitchen behind Sarah, fingers splayed apart, careful not to smudge. The younger Miller does the same, looking up at Joel when she stands next to the pizza box.

“Daddy, can you get the slices for me? I don’t want to mess up my nails that Posey painted for me. Look at them! They’re so pretty!” She raises her arms up to give Joel a look, his hand taking one of hers and inspecting it.

“Gosh, Bug, these are just gorgeous. Mari did a great job,” he grins at you, giving you a wink at the same time an idea pops into yours.

“I could do your nails, J. They could match Sarah’s!” Your suggestion is immediately supported by his daughter, her small stature jumping up and down in front of him.

“Yes, yes! You need to get your nails painted, Daddy!”

“Wasn’t this sleepover ‘no boys allowed’?” he arches a brow before he grabs a piece of pizza, plopping it on a plate for Sarah to take into the other room, “If I can stay for longer than it takes to paint my nails and hang out and eat your snacks, you can absolutely paint my nails.”

Sarah takes her plate from her dad, grinning ear-to-ear as she retreats back to the blanket nest. Joel makes a plate for you, carrying it out with his own and setting them on the coffee table. With a groan, he lowers himself to the ground, leaning his back against the couch and holding out his hands to you.

“Go for it, sweetheart.”

“D’you want the same thing as Sarah or something different?”

“Hmm, what d’you think, mija? Should we match?”

“I think you should give Daddy the color I gave you, Posey. It’s so pretty!” she leans back against you, using you as a backrest while she eats her pizza carefully with her wet nails, engrossed in the movie.

“Alright, guess it’s decided then. We’ll be matching,” you smile at him, taking one hand in yours to pull it closer, relaxing it against your thigh as you open the polish bottle. Concentrating on the tasks at hand, Joel wiggles his fingers when you aren’t in the midst of painting to get your attention, holding up a piece of pizza near your face.

“Eat, darlin’. Gotta fuel your artistic brain,” he winks and smiles sweetly at you, earning a quiet laugh before you lean in and take a bite chewing as you go back to painting. You switch hands after a few more bites, giving him a break to eat his own pizza and you yours while the three of you watch the movie. Once your job is done, you close the bottle tight and set it on the table, getting Sarah’s attention to look at it.

“How’d I do, Sare-Bear? Does your dad look pretty?” Her giggles pull some from all of you, nodding and clapping her hands together.

“Daddy, you need some of my pretty stickers and then Posey needs to take a picture with her camera.” Sarah stands and moves over to the pile of beauty supplies, grabbing the pack of nail stickers you bought and picking out a sheet. She sits next to Joel, stickering around his face as he closes his eyes and lets it all happen.

“Is this what happens all the time at girl sleepovers?” He peeks an eye open at you, getting a wide smile and shrug.

“Guess we’ll have to have some more for you to really find out.” Sarah steps back from her handiwork, and you pick up the Polaroid camera, lining up the shot from the side of Joel where there’s multiple star stickers clustered around his eyes. The shutter snaps when he looks at you, spitting out the image. You hand it to Sarah to watch it develop, showing you both quickly before going to hang it on the fridge along with a few other of your shots. You snap another of him looking at you directly, soft rounded eyes filled with affection.

Once you set the camera down, holding onto that photo for yourself, his hands find your thighs, running over the soft cotton of your PJ pants.

“Thank you for doin’ this for her, she hasn’t been this happy and giggly since before you left last summer.” Joel leans in, giving you a gentle, lingering kiss. “I love you. So, so much, Mari.”

Instead of answering, you give him another kiss before Sarah walks back in, settling between the two of you on the floor nest, cuddling up within your little unit of three to finish out the movie.

A few nights after your slumber party, you sneak over to Joel’s again before bed, using the key to the back door that he had made for you. He’s sitting on the couch, a line of sight to the door and a sleepy smile tugging at his lips when he sees you.

Padding your feet across the floors, you climb onto the couch next to him and curl your legs under you while you lean into his side. His arm wraps you up and his lips press against your forehead with a content sigh.

“Hi, Mari.”

“Hey, J.”

“How was your day, darlin’?” he asks as he turns off the TV, fingers ghosting up and down your bicep.

“Good, it was good. Babysat for the O’Connors today with the little baby. She’s so adorable, just a day full of baby giggles.” You grin and Joel smiles back at you, nodding along, “And then after that I drove to therapy and had that for an hour and then went home and waited to come see you.”

“M’very glad you’re here. Can’t sleep without you anymore,” he kisses your temple, “How was therapy, amor?”

“Today was a little hard. Talked more about maybe looking into medicine cause I feel like it isn’t fully there yet. But I do feel like I am happy. Like in my heart. My brain just can't keep up. Still have a lack of interest in things and not a lot of energy like I used to.”

Joel hums an acknowledgment, looking down at you on his shoulder, “M’here if you need to talk about anything, sweet girl.”

“I know. Thank you,” you give him a chaste kiss, smiling drowsily, “How was your day?”

“Pretty alright. Had to go fill in for someone who called in sick today at a job site so I’m exhausted from all the lifting and using machinery. But the framing is all done which means there’s something that looks like a house standing on the lot,” Joel chuckles softly and glances out the front window, “And then, uh, ran into your mom when I got home. She must’ve been running out for something but she stopped to talk and invited me and Sarah and Tommy to celebrate the Fourth with y’all.”

You sit up, grinning excitedly, “Really? Oh my gosh, that will be so fun. Our first official holiday together. Even though it’s just the Fourth of July. Kind of lame.”

Joel chuckles along with you, nodding his head and avoiding your eyes, “I mean, I told her yes ‘cause I didn’t think you’d mind. But the more I got to thinkin’, I guess, I just—I think I need some more time before we tell your parents about us.”

Your face falls before you can hide it, Joel’s hand immediately reaching to cup your cheek delicately, “M’sorry, sweet girl. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to do it at a family event and maybe it might be best if we can sit them down sometime to talk about it all.”

A slow nod keeps you quiet, in your thoughts, rambling out an agreement as you bring your eyes to Joel’s again, “Yeah, yeah, I understand. I agree. Would be best to wait a little while longer.”

“Thank you, darlin’. M’so glad you agree. We’ll find the right time, eventually,” Joel gives you a tender kiss, lingering against your lips for a few more dopey exchanges. He pulls away, standing up and gathering you up with him, leading you to his bedroom and getting into bed with you, “Night, Mariposa. Love you.”

“Night, J,” you reply meekly, the small sound of your voice easily brushed off as fatigue. Joel keeps you close, spooning you with his front against your chest, falling asleep behind you quickly. You can’t rest, especially after that short and decided conversation.

Why did you agree so easily? And why was he even asking for more time? His daughter knows, his brother knows, your friends know. What’s any different about your family? Is he afraid that if he breaks your heart he’ll have to move? But why would he even think about that possibility when all he’s told you is how much he loves you, how he’ll be yours until you want nothing to do with him anymore?

Every reassurance that he’s given you is flooding your mind, those doubts and fears worming their way into the sweet memories and poisoning them with twisted words.

Every time he’s said he loves you, does he mean it? Or is he only saying it to say it, to placate your anxieties about the future of you two by committing in a way?

Is this push back about telling your family a response to you not being ready to say ‘I love you’ back? Is he getting fed up with waiting for it?

Are you too much too quickly? Weaving yourself too tightly into his life and his daughter’s life? Is he going to start to drift, to put off telling your parents until he can end it?

These thoughts cycle in an endless loop, keeping you up while Joel sleeps soundly beside you. Nausea stirs in your stomach, rapid heart beating from the spiraling of your mind keeping you wide awake until the early hours of the morning.

The only way you can manage to fall asleep is turning in Joel’s arms, cuddling into his chest and breathing in his scent to halt the carousel of negativity in your brain long enough for his even breaths to lull you to sleep.

One last question flashes to you before you’re finally asleep:

 What happens when Summer ends?

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[jbucb]

Fanfic request rules

Ask about a Fandom!

Characters I am partial to!

Joel, Sarah, Maria and Tommy Miller ,Ellie Williams, Abby Anderson!

(Includes:Jesse, Dina, Maria, Owen, Mel, Manny and more)

(Very happy to write non reader for this ,just characters as well)

Lee Bodecker, James(Bucky) Barnes, Mickey Henry, Frank, Carter Baizen, Nick Fowler, Jefferson Hatter.. scratch that... ANY SEBASTIAN STAN CHARACTER

Billy hargrove... that's it just him

Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,Bruce banner

Capt. Syverson, Geralt of rivia (in game as well) ,Sherlock Holmes, August walker.

Dean and Sam Winchester, Castiel,

I write for charactersXreader I'm not opposed to doing WLW&MLM, but I am most comfortable with MLW

Tropes I love

DBF BFD, Age-Gap, Professer, Dilf

Secret relationship, Fake Dating, Enemies to lovers

BBF, Single parent, friends to lovers,

roommates to lovers.

I do enjoy AUs Very much !! Especially

Modern, pre-war-post-war, Mafia, actor, doctor,

College, Socialite, Vetran, Lawyer ,Cop, and Rockstar, Farmer, Equestrian.

I will not write for!

DDLG, STEP-relationships, Explicit

INCEST, FORCED PREGNANCY, CNS

(not excluding but will not write in heavy detail)

SA OR COCSA

I will write smut but not often as I do not prefer to write it .

[toxicanonymity]

Collect calls. jailbird pt. 2 of 3

3600, cellmate's nephew!Joel x inmate f!reader

brilliant edit by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog. custom tats!

SUMMARY: You kinda try to be careful over the phone, but you want each other too bad. So it's hard. Rock hard. Joel sends you a short letter and comes to visit again. Follows Jailbird, but this is 69% dirty talk (I did the math). You can prob read alone. PT 3 of 3 is Parole. WARNINGS: I8+ SO HORNY, hella dirty talk from both, phone sex, mild degradation/teasing, tension, masturbation, Joel is a slut and mentions getting blown, creative mail. Barely edited horny chaos but I wanna feed ya and this ain't fine dining. A/N: Part 2 of 3. Thank you for the love on Jailbird! And THANK YOU @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the amazing edit omg. Make sure you see the Jojo gif 🥵 His specific tattoos and all 😍 joel master list, @toxicfics for notifs. PART 3 HERE.

When you got back from visitation, your cellmate Mabel's face lit up.  She was excited to hear about it, but when she looked you over, she said, “Oh boy, it’s worse than I thought. . . I’m gonna go play spades, honey. You do what ya need to do.” 

You shook your head, “Mabel. . .”

“Take your time,” she said with a wink. "Not that you'll need it." Then she stood up and stretched before leaving the cell.  

You got in your bed, on your side, under the blanket. You clenched your thighs together looking at the picture of a slightly younger him with not nearly as much silver in his beard. You put your pillow between your legs, rolled over so you were mostly stomach-down, and your hips moved as you put your head in the crook of your arm and recalled the way he looked at you, his strong hands, his tattoos. His voice. You wondered what it sounded like when it wasn’t through a telephone, but god damn, it did something to you. “ain’t nothin’ harder than mine, baby.” Fuck. 

You were already getting close, wouldn’t even need to use your hand at this rate. You thought about the way his arm flexed as his hand moved in his lap. Oh God, the bulge and outline in his jeans when he stood up. The way he adjusted himself.  He might be too big for you to take all of him, but god damn, you'd give it your best shot. You rubbed yourself against your pillow to the rhythm of his hand rubbing his lap in your mind, clenched your thighs again and you came, whining "Jojo" into your elbow. You heard it too many times a day to get it out of your head – He told you to call him Joel, but Mabel made it somewhat difficult. 

---

He was hot as fuck, but it was also cute how close he and Mabel were. It made him seem like a good guy, even though neither of them were particularly upstanding members of society.  You supposed neither were you by most standards, but it’s not like any of you had ever intentionally hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. That you knew of.  The fact that Jojo served time was hot and also put you at ease. It had to have been a while based on the spiderweb, unless he was just trying to look hard, but he didn’t seem the type to bullshit anything. How did you even know what type he was though? You hardly knew  him? You dreaded Mabel’s teasing but you could withstand it in order to find out more.

You got off once more while you were at it, taking advantage of the privacy.  Then you sat up, rested against the wall, and just looked at the picture. Unfolded, you looked at both of them. It was so sweet. He looked happy. His hand on her shoulder had the spade tattoo.  Your eyes fell on your own poke-and-stick clover from Mabel and your stomach fluttered when you saw the flared stem and circular leaves. It might as well have been a Club.  “Mabel,” you muttered and shook your head.  

While she was still playing Spades, you went over to her bed to look at the other photos up close. In another picture, they were at a barbecue in a parking lot. Joel was on the left and Mabel was on the right. Joel was wearing a wifebeater and Mabel was wearing a black t-shirt with a carousel pony on the right pocket.  

You hadn’t noticed before, but there were a few women in swimsuits and aprons in the background. One of them was looking at Jojo. Who wouldn’t? Mabel’s words echoed in your mind — of course he’d like you. You’ve got a cunt and  you’re not bad lookin'. you rolled your eyes. Shit. You resolved to put yourself in pro mode and try to detach. 

—--

Over the next week, you spoke with him several times on the phone. You tried to be careful. You wren’t sure if all calls were reviewed or it was just by sample. You figured it would be suspicious to ask. You hoped whoever listened didn’t mind some harmless horny talk.  The only stuff they should really care about should be scheming. Like making moves and putting out hits from the inside. Or smuggling from the outside. 

—---

He answered the phone, “There she is.”  A vaguely endearing greeting since you and Mabel called from the same collect number. 

“Hey handsome,” you responded. 

“I was just thinkin’ about ya, jailbird.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” he said deeply then sighed. “Ya just missed it.” Good God, his voice.

“Missed–”

“C’mon, baby. Use that pretty head. How bout I’ll wait for ya tomorrow?” 

Your heart skipped a beat.  “Yeah.”

“Just call at the same time.” 

“Okay,” you agreed with a smile in your voice. “It was nice to see you the other day. . .” 

“Oh, baby you got no idea,” he groaned. “I’m comin’ back next week.” 

“Are they gonna let you back?” you giggled.

“They’ve gotta! I didn’t do nothin’.”

“You didn’t. . .you’re right. . .” 

“Hey don’t give’em any ideas.”

"Right," you laughed. 

"What are ya gonna do when ya get out?"

“In general? Try to find honest work, I guess.” 

“Nothin’ dishonest ‘bout what you were doin’. But I hear ya, parole’s a bitch.” 

“You on parole?”

“Nah, long time ago though.” 

‘Yeah?”

“Kept my nose clean the whole damn time.  Ended up back in the can anyway.” 

"For what"

"Framed for fuckin' murder."

"What??"

"Relax, I was exonerated." 

"No shit."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "You ever danced?"

"Course I fuckin' danced"

"Where at?"

"In memphis."

"Oh, I dunno jack shit about that scene."

"Wasn't great."

"Guess that's where you uh, got your start though."

"Yeah."

"Well do what ya want but lemme know if ya need a gig."

'Thanks." 

He sighed. "I know it sucks not gettin' any in there. "

"Yeah."

"Are ya? Gettin' any? Girls, guards?"

"No," you answered, looking over your shoulder. "Think I could tell ya if I was, though?"

"Shit, sorry." 

"You gettin' any?" 

"Oh I'm a straight up ho." 

"Yeah?" You asked, intrigued.  "Surprised I hadn't seen ya at the clinic," you teased. 

"Cause I'm way the fuck 'cross town. Got our own clinic." 

"Good for you." A pleasant surprise that he stayed clean. 

"Yeah, on a first name basis. Make my girls go, too. Still wrap it most the time though." 

"Your girls."

"Dancers."

"Right." Mabel had mentioned he worked at a club. "Well, at least one of us is gettin' some."

"Shit, I was gettin' some sugar the other night," he said. "Pretty little head between my legs 'n I was lookin' at your picture."

Your heart fluttered. "No shit," you laughed. "My picture, huh?"

"Ohh, you don't even know. I want it bad, sugar, and I ain’t even tasted it." 

"Yeah?" 

"Shit I prolly think about it as much as you do . . .and I've got a life." 

"Who says I think about it?" You asked flirtatiously.

"I got ESP. Makes me tingle when ya do."

"Oh does it?"

"Ya think about me in the shower, in bed. . ." 

You laughed. "And where do you think about me?"

"Fuckin' everywhere. I've gotta have ya, baby. So bad it hurts." 

—----------

Whenever you came back to your cell after talking to Jojo, Mabel would leave to make a phone call or go to the common area to watch whatever outdated movie was playing in the common area. Often with a wink. She knew he got you all wound up. 

—----------

You called him at the same time the next day. 

"How's your week been," you asked. 

"Hard," he said, then his voice became hornier.  "So fuckin' hard. . . n' that's all you." You could hear his belt and zipper. 

"Wish I could help."

“i'm sure ya can once you're out. If you wanna hang out sometime.” You heard a bottle click open then squirt. 

You teasingly hummed as though thinking it over. "Mmmm. . . .I dunno, what would you wanna do?”

“I can pick ya up right from the slammer, ‘less ya got someone else.”

“I don’t.”

“Great, then we can just. . . i dunno, get to know each other,” he mused, then added at a lower pitch, “In the back seat of my whip. Stop off somewhere close.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “You don’t understand, baby. I’ve gotta see what’s under that garb.” His hand was sliding up and down his lubed up cock. “I’ve gotta feel it.” 

Butterflies swarmed in your chest and you sighed.

“What were ya wearin’ when ya got picked up?”

“Well. . . you already know what I’m in for. . .”

"Damn right I do, and you're gonna find out."

You laughed – at visitation, he said you were in for it. . 

"C’mon, jailbird. What were ya wearin.”

“A black microskirt"

"Mmm."

"Black mesh crop top"

"Yeahhh"

"Over a pink bra.”

“Ohhh, fuck,” he sighed. “Shoes?”

“Shit, I’m not–hmm." You tried not to overthink it. "Definitely platforms. Silver and clear, I think."

He gave a low whistle. "Sounds hot as shit." 

“And fishnets. Shit, that's all I had,” you laughed. "Maybe you can bring me something else." 

“God damn, that’s what I get to pick ya up in?”

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on the fishnets.”

“Commando in that skirt? Shit, that’s even better.” His breath grew heavier. "Fuck it, just sit on me while I drive," he murmured. "Yeah, fuckin' sit on *this* the whole drive–ugghh." As if avoiding the word cock would make this conversation passable.

You sighed and tried to hide your arousal from the Corrections Officer (CO) standing 8 ft away. 

"Can't get it in ya soon enough, baby." 

"Mmm," you said quietly. "Can't wait."

"Jailbird, you're fuckin killin' me." He moaned. "Hot as hell. . . fuck."

"You sure I can take it?"

"Fuck, I dunno, baby," he panted. "It's a lot."

"I could tell"

"Uugggghhh," He groaned and you heard his hand sliding faster on his dick. "And what'd ya think about that ?"

"Oh, I’m up for the challenge,” you cooed saucily. "Just get me nice 'n ready."

"You ready right now?"

"The second I heard your voice."

"Fuck, I gotta know what ya taste like"

"Mmm."

"Yeah," he panted.,"And when you're nice and ready, then what?"

You lowered your voice to a near whisper. "Oh, just fuckin' wreck me. Split me open, baby." All you could do was clench your thighs together.

"Ohhh god"

"Don't hold back"

"Ohh fuck–couldnt if I tried." He sighed.

You had lost all restraint and just prayed whoever reviewed this call would be cool.  

"Just stuff me full of it," you whispered. 

"Fuck, yeah."

"Stretch me out." 

"Ohh yeah." 

"Pound me so hard i can’t see straight."

"Shit." He moaned and his hand moved faster. 

"And then? Fill me the fuck up. I wanna feel it." 

"Fuck yeah," he panted "i'll be seepin' outta ya for days."

"Then you better fill me up again." 

"Jesus, fuck–ohhh." 

"Don't tell me you'd spill it this fast."

"Oh fuck you," he laughed in good humor. "I'm not spillin' shit." You could still hear his hand. 

"Not even if I'm sittin' on ya while ya drive?"

"Not even." 

"Not with one hand on the wheel and one on my tit?"

"Ohh fuck," he breathes.  "No, no. . ."

"And I'm moanin' your name with every bump in the road?"

"Mmmm, fuck, baby."

"Oh ya like that?" 

"Fuckin'--fuck–fuckin' love it."

"Wouldya mind slidin' that hand down between my legs?" 

"Wherever ya want it, baby."

"Ugh, those big hands," you whispered. "I just know you can use'em."

"Fuckin' right I can," he panted.  

"Hope ya don't finish while you're drivin' with me in your lap."

"All ya gotta do is sit still."

"Imagine the mess if you came." 

"Fuck, baby," he sighed.

"Every time we hit a bump, more would spill out in  your lap.”

“Ohh, fuck."  Then a long, drawn out moan like he was coming. You were throbbing wildly. 

"Knew ya were close," you laughed. Then you heard a heavy smack on his end of the line. Then there was nothing but breathing for a minute, then it sounded like he was writing. 

"What are you doing now?"

"Addressing an envelope."

"You're not mailing me your–"

"No I'm not mailin' you my" he laughed,  "Load."

"Just a letter?

"Yeah. . . Just a letter." 

"Mmkay. . . How 'bout a picture?"

His tone was warm and flattered. "Oh I can throw in a pic. But it's not gonna be the kind ya *really* want."

"Booo," you pouted.

'Think you'll like it anyway."

"Yeah, I can fill in the rest." 

Your time was up. 

—-------

You went back to your cell and sighed as you sat down on your bed. Mabel started to leave but you said, "no, you're good." You'd rub one out later. You wanted to ask Mabel if he really liked you, but you wouldn't let yourself be vulnerable like that. You were still trying to detach.  

"You're right, he's cool," you said. 

 "You like him, don't ya? He likes you, too.”  

She reached under her mattress into the fitted sheet and got out her poke and stick supplies. “C’mere, let's just get it over with,” she said. 

“What, uh, what do you wanna give me?”

"J. . . O. . ." 

Your whole upper body heated up and you laughed under your breath, "Mabel." She was mostly kidding. 

—-----------

Visitation day came and you weren't nervous, just excited. He was wearing a too-small, black softwash t-shirt, black jeans, and a chain.

“Be good,” the guard warned Joel as you picked up the phone on your side. 

"Yes, officer,” Joel replied with a respectful nod, then sat down. You noticed his rings as he picked up his phone. “We gotta be good,” he said with a wink.  

“So be good,” you told him vacantly as your eyes roamed his tattoos. 

He stared at you for a few seconds, hungrily taking in the mundane sight of you in your garb. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. 

“How’d ya get hotter? Chicks don’t get hotter in lock-up, much less in a week.” 

“What, and men do? It’s in your head.”

“Well yeah, we work out like mad.” 

“Guess you’ve got me there.” 

“Not talkin’ 'bout your body. It’s bangin’, but, I mean–no makeup and you’re pretty as hell.” 

You smiled and shrugged, "thanks," then whispered, "but I think you're just horny," with a wink.  He returned the shrug. 

A few seconds of silence passed as he checked you out. You salivated over his arms stretching his shirt. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “Whatcha thinkin about?”

“I’m thinkin’ ya look like a slutty bouncer. . .You get this shit at Spirit Halloween?”

Joel chuckled. “Well . . . you know what *I’m* thinkin’ about.” His eyes glued to your chest. 

Yeah, yeah, he’s gotta see what’s under that garb. “Yeah, you’ll see it, honey," you said. 

It was a struggle knowing what to say–you wanted to “be good” and not get cut short, but you also wanted to indulge in your fantasies. 

Joel asked, “Where ya wanna go when ya get out?”

“Anywhere. Got some place in mind?”

“Could take ya to my place. Mabel taught me a mean pot roast recipe.” 

You smiled. “You’re makin' me hungry.”

“Oh I’m starvin’, baby.”

"Long drive?"

He exhaled with a puff of his cheeks. "It’ll feel long that day."

“I’m sure it will,” you purred, looking down as if you could see through the booth right to his cock. You wet your lips. “So what’s between here and home?”

He took a deep breath, thought for a second, and told you what highway it was. 

“Oh, okay,” you nodded. “There’s a seven eleven right outside the gate here. 

“There sure is," Joel nodded. "Clean bathrooms too. I checked on my way.”

“You did not.” 

“I’m tellin’ ya," he nodded. "Stopped for gas. First thing I thought about. Swear I think about it as much as you do.” 

“So what’s in the bathroom?”

“Steel handicap railing about hip height”

You raised your eyebrows, intrigued.

“Pretty sturdy to hold onto, or even sit on.” He looked over his shoulder “Like if someone needed a rest or whatever.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Right," you said softly as you nodded. 

"Diaper changin' thingy, too."

You scrunched your face up. 

"Like if ya needed to bend over it and stretch your back.” 

"Ah," you nodded. "Nah."

“Parking lot?”

“That close to here, it’s gotta be crawling with pigs.” 

“Right,” he said in a trance, looking at your mouth. 

“Alright, where else is there," you asked. 

"Rest stop. They got picnic tables near the woods if ya need to, uh," he looked down, "Sit down," he said quieter, "n' take a rest." 

"Oh, I won't want a rest." You slowly shook your head and your eyes lingered on his chain. 

He groaned softly and rested his chin in his hand. He whispered, "You're killin' me here." He scratched his beard and you tingled at the sight of the silver patches, his pinky ring, his hand tattoos–the faded barbed wire.  You sighed. 

"You bein' good?" He asked. 

"Yeah." You resigned yourself to harmless small talk for a few minutes, but it was obvious what you both were thinking about.  There were long silences where you just stared at each other.  

“Just a few more weeks and I’m yours,” you teased. 

His eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows. “You serious?”

Oh, shit - you didn’t wanna scare him off.  Really didn’t even mean it like that, but, you also didn’t mind the thought of him as a boyfriend. 

You nodded and teased, “yours to do what you please.”

He blew out a puff of air. "God damn, baby. I don't think you know what’s comin’ your way.”

“Can’t wait to find out, though.”

“Oh, you’re gonna find out.”  He dug his hand into his lap but didn’t move it. “Shit.”

“Sorry.”

“Never be sorry.”

The guard barked,”Hands where I can see’em,” and Joel obediently raised his hand and put both elbows on the table again. 

"You ain't gonna want no one else again." 

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness which actually turned you on. 

"Don't say I didn't warn ya," he cautioned. 

"Okay," you shrugged with a contemplative frown. 

"Shit, I might be in the same boat." He swallowed and looked like he meant it. Like maybe you were doing something to him that hadn't been done.

"Get my letter yet?" Joel asked. 

"No." 

He smirked, then it faded as he checked you out for the hundredth time. He shook his head, sat back, and took a deep breath.  "This is fuckin' torture." 

"Then it's a good thing I waited til now to ask about ya." 

"the best torture," he clarified, his forehead beginning to glisten. "I'm gonna fuckin explode when I'm back in my ride."  He looked at the unopened box of tissues on his side of the booth, intended for crying visitors. "Thank God I didn't ride the hog." Fuck, he had a motorcycle, too? He held the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder while he opened the plastic on the box and tried to get the tissues started. Then he took three tissues out.  Your breath hitched at the thought of his cum. Was it silky? Stringy? Watery? Sticky? What'd it taste like? Ugh. 

"HANDS," the guard said when he saw Joel finish pocketing the tissues. The guard stepped forward. "Say goodbye, let's go."

"Fuck." Joel sighed and closed his eyes. "Sorry, jailbird." 

When he stood up, you could see the outline of his hard dick on his thigh. You took a deep breath and pried your eyes off his crotch to briefly meet his eyes. He winked and you managed a small smile before eyes fell right back to his jeans as he adjusted himself. Fuck. 

—---------------

Joel’s letter came a couple days later. A photo fell out of it. Black and white. He was sitting in a chair and smoking with one hand holding the cigarette up and his other hand resting between his legs.  Arms blazing in a white t-shirt. Squinting at the camera. He looked hot as hell despite having all his clothes on. He looked like a model. 

The letter was on plain white printer paper, and the letter was short: 

Be good, jailbird. I'll take ya anywhere. 

Sweet, and also sexy. God, you wanted him to take you. 

You flattened out the letter and admired his poor but legible handwriting. Not as bad as some you'd seen. His handwriting was hot.  It was cute that he didn't use any special stationary.  He was a simple man. And God, what a man. You ran your fingers over the words,  and they caught on a different texture.  Something on the paper.  You smelled it and it wasn't cum. It was, like, lotion or Vaseline. 

Wait. You held it up, and your breath hitched. 

You looked behind you to make sure no one was watching, then you stood up, got closer to the light, and held it at an angle. Holy shit. It was his dick print, diagonal across the paper.  A bolt of desire shot through your body.  It was transparent but the different texture was visible. You could see the head, then most of the shaft. It was detailed, there was texture. Even a couple of veins. 

You sat on your bed, leaning against the wall with your knees up.  You rested the paper against your knees at an angle with the tip pointed between your legs.  You just wanted to get a sense of the size–and boy did you–but the sight of it, God. Just the silhouette of it lined up right there made you feral. You needed it so bad.  Needed him.  Who the hell mails a dick print? Fuckin’ Jojo, he was gonna be the death of you.

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your engagement really keeps me going, I love y'all.

This AU is due to @beskarandblasters and @wannab-urs and their hilarious list of new joel tropes. But I played myself because he's actually hot and I want him?

Notes

The slapping sound after he came was him letting his cock slap onto the paper.

There are a lot of correctional facilities where they wouldn't get away with all this so you gotta suspend disbelief.

The strip club will be an alternate timeline of this Joel set in the past.

-----

I hear tags aren't working for some people. Please consider following @toxicfics and subscribing to notifications. Must have tumblr push notifications enabled on your phone.

-----

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret

[toxicanonymity]

Parole.

3k words, joel miller x f!reader

Jojo playlist, joel master list, @toxicfics for notifs

SUMMARY: PWP. Phone sex and just-got-out-of-jail sex.  

WARNINGS: I8+, dirty talk, jacking off, groping while driving, oral F receiving, Unsafe P in V intercourse, semi-public (bathroom). Reader can sit on a sink.

A/N: cellmate's nephew!Joel, part 3 of 3 (just 8k total) , follows Jailbird and Collect Calls but you just need to know his aunt Mabel is your cellmate. This is the last of Jailbird for the foreseeable future. It’s been a fun diversion.  This is not the last of Jojo.

—---

All goes well at your parole hearing. After you get your 72 Hour release notice, you call Joel. 

He answers the phone, "You're gettin' out," and you can hear his smile. 

"How did you–did Mabel tell you?"

"Had a feeling.  So what, 3 days now?" He opens and squirts the lube. 

"9pm Monday."

"You just made my dick so hard, baby."

"Jojo. . ."

"Hmm?"

"God, sorry - Joel"

"Call me whatever ya want, jailbird. Mm. Call me joel, call me jojo--mm, call me call me any time baby”

“Can’t wait to be on the other side of that glass.” 

"And I'm gonna pop that post-penny cherry" (post-penitentiary) 

“Shhh”

"What they're gonna un-parole ya 'cause there’s a hard dick waitin’ for ya?"

“Well, I like the sound of that,”  you purr. 

“Oh we’re gonna get nasty, baby,” he breathes. 

“Mmm”

“You wear thongs, g-strings, whatcha wear?” His fist slurps up and down his cock. 

“Thongs,” you tell him. “Boy shorts if I wanna be comfy.” 

“Damn. . . that ass in boy shorts?  Whew.” 

“How ‘bout you?”

“Boxer briefs.” 

“Mm, shoulda known. Those tight-ass pants”

“Yeah, ya like’em?”

“Like how ya wear’em”

“How’s that”

“Packing somethin’ fat and juicy for me.”

He moans. “Fuck yeah i am, just for you baby”

“Just for me?”

“‘S’all for you, baby. How ya want it first?”

“Honey, I just want it.”

“Can i come inside ya?”

“Mmmm, yeah. . .” 

“Fuck, i’m gonna pump you full,” his voice tells you he’s already close. 

“You better.” 

“Fuck yeah, baby.” His hand is moving faster. “Ohhh, fuck” He shudders and groans long and drawn out as he comes.

“Started without me didn’t ya” 

“Wouldn’t do that,” he says in a transparently false tone. 

“Hope ya can last longer than that,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he laughs. “Shit, maybe I can’t. ‘S’what ya do to me, baby.” 

“Then we’ll just have to do it again.”

“Oh I’m grocery shoppin’ like it’s the apocalypse. Won’t have to leave the house for a week.”

—------

Mabel gives you one last poke-and-stick tattoo, a heart on your other hand, mirroring the location of your "clover." The last thing she tells you is, “He’s snipped, ya know. I took care of him after he did it. ” 

“Nice.”

“Yeah, he knows he's not dad material," she explains, then lightens the mood with, "he's daddy, not dad," and a wink. 

You're gonna miss her. But if things go well with Joel, you’ll see her again in a few months. 

—----

Walking down the ramp from the tower toward the jail lobby, you can taste the freedom and almost forget what you’re wearing – booty skirt, platform heels, mesh crop top, fishnets. 

His posture is what catches your eye first. Feet spread, arms crossed. Your eyes fall to his bulge then pan up to a white t-shirt struggling to contain the tattooed arms crossed in front of him. Gold chain, Adam's Apple. As his face comes into focus, he tilts his head back and squints, pursing his lips in a pained expression as he looks at you. His expression is enough to remind you what you’re wearing. By the time you reach him, he’s biting his lip, shaking his head at you with his eyes smiling. 

He opens his arms and wraps around you for a full-body hug. He smells like fresh cologne, and he feels safe and comfortable.  He feels like – ohhh, yeah, he’s already getting hard. You’re holding a plastic bag of your belongings—phone and keys—against his back. 

“God damn,” he whispers into your hair and his pelvis subtly presses his growing arousal into you. He murmurs, “Mmm, let’s get the fuck outta here.” 

He grabs your hand and your shoes click as you walk through the sliding doors to the parking lot. As soon as the doors slide closed behind you, he drops your hand and grabs your ass.  His hand spans much more of your asscheek than you're used to. The beauty of the sky at dusk overwhelms you, even with the lights from the jail. 

“Let’s make it to the car,” you laugh. 

He puffs out his cheeks with an exhale and gets his keys out of his pocket with his free hand.  Then he points to a big truck and unlocks it. 

He opens the truck door for you and his hand on your ass helps you up into the seat. Oh the simple joy of getting in a vehicle. You start to grab the seatbelt, and he tells you, “nah, hold on a sec.” When he gets in the driver’s seat he slams up the center console, slides over and you turn to face him as he reaches you.  

He grabs the back of your head and pulls your face into his. His tongue parts your lips and his mouth is minty.  He sucks hard and gently chews your lips as he grabs your far thigh and puts it over his lap.  Then he grabs you by both hips and pulls you all the way into his lap with your help so you’re straddling him. When your crotch meets the warm steel rod in his pants, you whimper and he sighs vocally. Then your mouths connect again. You’ve been dying of thirst and he’s a tall glass of water; you just can’t get enough. 

His hands run down your fishnet thighs as you grind on him and make out. He playfully plucks one of the diamonds and murmurs in such a deep voice, “Thought ya weren’t wearin’ these, hmm?” Then he attacks your neck with his mouth, and you sigh.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see a Corrections Officer headed your way. 

“Shit,” you say, “We should go.” 

He groans. 

“They're comin’, we gotta go,” you repeat and pry yourself off of him. 

He takes a deep breath and his hips lift out of the seat as he adjusts himself, then scoots back over to the driver’s seat and buckles his seatbelt. You start to go back to the passenger seat and buckle yours, but he says, “get back over here.”  He hands you the middle seatbelt. 

—----

You tease, “we 'bout to peel outta here?”

"Buckle up, baby.” 

He puts his hand behind you to back up. A whiff of his sweat under the cologne makes you want him even worse. 

You awkwardly try to keep your hands to yourself. He’s the one driving, so you’ll let him initiate any distraction. "Where we headed?"

"How ‘bout we get ya some real food, ya hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat.” 

He gives a low whistle and says, “so could I, baby. can’t wait to taste ya." He looks at your legs. “Fuck.”  He puts his hand on your thigh, a ring pressing into your skin. “Mmm.” His voice is so deep. “Been savin’ this just for me, huh?'' His wrist pushes your skirt out of the way as his hand slides toward your crotch.  He finds your clit with ease, even while driving. He clearly knows what he’s doing and he could get you off like this in a minute or two, but he needs his hand back to make some turns. 

You put your hand on his meaty thigh and ask “can I. . .”

“*can* you? Fuck yeah you can” He lifts his elbow, welcoming your hand to his lap. 

You grab the bulge in his jeans and get a zap of need in your core. You slowly press your hand into his warm, hard package and feel the outline of his thick cock.  You’re aching for him. You’re about to ask him to pull over when he puts on the blinker and see you’ve arrived at Waffle House. 

“Here good?” He says as he pulls into a parking space.  

“Hell yeah,” you answer. 

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Cause if ya don’t like WaHo, we ain’t gonna work anyway.” You both unbuckle your seatbelts.

"Oh, here," you take your hand back as he reaches back behind the passenger seat, and your eyes glue to his huge bulge. He hands you a leather jacket, and says, “Just if ya want it.”  It’s a little warm for it, but it’s a nice thought if you wanted to cover up. At WaHo, you don’t really care. That’s the magic of it. He reaches back behind the seat again and you glance at his earring. He returns with a target bag.

You peek into the bag. There’s a casual tank dress, flip flops, and . ..boy shorts. Your heart flutters that his dirty question led to such a wholesome gesture. 

“You bought me clothes?”

“Yeah, coulda brought some’a Mabel’s but–”

“That could get weird”

“Yeah.” 

—---

You walk in front of Jojo into the breezeway, then into the restaurant. No one bats an eye at how you’re dressed.  You hold up the bag of clothes and ask, “Mind if I change ‘fore we eat?” A waitress behind the counter leans to the side to look around you, checks Jojo out and says, “get it, girl.” 

“That’s what i’m talkin’ bout,” Jojo murmurs to you and gives her a wink. 

Both the individual bathrooms are occupied. Joel stands with his back against the wall facing the bathrooms, so y’all are waiting out of view of the grill. You’re facing him.  He grabs your ass with both hands, pulling you into him, massive erection straining his pants, yearning to get to you. His cock digs into your front.  You kiss him and he kneads your butt cheeks as your mouths consume each other. He moans quietly into your mouth.  His hard cock twitches against you. 

He breaks the kiss and breathes heavily against your ear, then whispers “feel like i’m gonna die.” 

A toilet flushes. The bathroom smells faintly of cleaning supplies, and it doesn’t look dirty. The illusion of cleanliness is enough to not think about it. 

You wanna be right on top of him, but as he locks the door, you find yourself slowly taking a step backwards, watching him in anticipation, almost like you’re daring him to come after you and show you what he’s got.  He looks at you darkly and prowls toward you, unbuckling his belt, lips parted, eyes dark like a stalking animal.  You freeze. He unbuttons his jeans and walks until his hardness bumps into your thigh. 

Then, at a faster pace, he walks you almost all the way to the sink, then grabs your butt to stop you.  He hikes up your skirt so it's all the way over your ass. He grabs your ass with one hand and pulls you into him again. The strength of his erection through his exposed boxer briefs gives you another shock of arousal on top of your already desperate need. He pulls back his hips enough for his free hand to engulf your crotch.  His thick middle finger presses down on the (very) damp spot in your leggings. 

"Soaked for me, aren't ya?" The hand on your ass slides down and curls between your legs. His warm finger slips into one of the fishnet holes. 

He uses both hands, one from the front and one from the back, to rip open the fishnets. “Fuck yeah,” he growls. The hand from the back returns to your asscheek, while the other hand remains between your legs.  The side of his index finger meets your dripping seam. “Mmmmmm,” he slides his hand up and down for just a couple of seconds, then looks at the sink. “Think ya can sit up here?”

“mm. yeah, if you–”

He helps you onto the edge of the sink. You hold onto the sides and he immediately squats down with his head between your legs. 

“Just fuck me,” you say, dying to have him inside you. Your walls are twitching as though your cunt is making a gimme gimme motion like a fist.

“i gotta taste ya," he mumbles as he spreads your thighs.  “Sorry, just a sec.” He further rips the fishnets, exposing you to the cool air then sighs, “fuck,” as he reaches behind you to hold your ass. He whispers “just real quick,” his hot breath on your mound, before he plants his mouth on your cunt. 

He licks at your entrance.  “Mmmm,” he tongues and sucks your clit, then takes one hand off your ass to palm his boxer briefs. 

You fist his hair, sighing, “Ohh God, I need that cock, baby. We got time for this later.” You’re physically aching to be filled. 

He kisses your clit goodbye, then whispers, "god damn."  He puts both hands on your thighs as he stands up.  When he’s standing, he yanks his boxer briefs down and his naked cock bobs heavily, making you nearly drool. He’s shaved. It’s thick. Length-wise you might be able to take it. The girth will be a stretch. 

He curls his fingers under your mesh crop top and you raise your arms as he discards it. “Fuck it, you’re changin’, right?” He tugs at your bra, and you take it off. 

“Oh, fuck me,” he takes in the sight of your tits and can’t resist sucking a nipple into his mouth while palming the other. 

You grab his cock. “Are you gonna put this in me tonight or nah?”

“God damn, you need it don’t ya?” He wraps an arm around you  and you put your arms around his neck. He nudges you by the ass toward the edge.

“fuck just give it to me.” 

He runs his swollen, mauve tip through your slick, then notches it at your entrance and plunges into you with a groan. You gasp as his girth spreads you apart. You can’t remember the last time you felt a stretch like this. But he pushes it right in. You’re so turned on, it works. You watch his cock disappear into you. You glance up at him to see his mouth hanging open with a sigh of relief as his tip nudges your cervix and makes you whole. He sucks in a deep breath as he retreats, then says “FUCK, that’s a nice cunt.” 

His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your ass and he begins to fuck you. You pull up his shirt and it’s so tight that it stays where you leave it. He has a slutty little hip tattoo that says yeah. His lips latch onto yours as he buries his length in you again and again.  It’s all sucking and biting and hot, humid breath as you moan against each other’s cheeks before your tongues are in each other’s mouths again. The bottom half of your face gets slobbery.  He fucks you like he means it, grunting and moaning, “oh yeah.” Your bodies are dewy where your skin meets. 

You wrap your legs around him. Your pelvis grinds against his and your orgasm is building. You tell him,  “Don’t hold back”

“You want me to last?” He asks as he pumps in and out of you. 

“In here?--ohhhh–time for that later” 

“Oh, you already close, ain’t ya?” he speeds up and his chain bounces with the power of his motions. “Fuck yeah, baby, c’mere, c’,mon” His cock pistons into you. It’s even better than you imagined so many times in your pathetic excuse for a bed. Oh shit, will you really sleep together? The thought of it melts you. The thought of a real bed alone melts you, but with him, with this cock inches away, god this cock, it feels so, it’s so—A primal grunt comes from his chest. His heavy breathing and grinding against your clit have you on the edge ready to tip. 

You whimper, “baby,” pinching your eyes shut. 

He grips your ass harder and grinds his shaved pubic bone into you as he fucks you smooth and fast. He fucks like a porn star. “C’mon, jailbird.” 

He buries his length in you even faster, then pleasure seizes your whole body and you come on his fat cock. 

“Ohhhhh yeah, fuck yeah,” he breathes. 

He thrusts into you a few more times, “fuck, baby,” then bottoms out and erupts. He sighs a long sigh as his warm release coats your insides. 

“Mmmm,” you savor the pulse of his cock and you twitch with aftershocks. “Oh, god.” He hugs you and you rest your head on his chest while you both catch your breath. His chain feels massive on on your cheek.

Someone finally knocks on the door.  He pulls out and helps you down off the sink. 

“Someone in here,” he tells them. He pulls up his pants, then leans against the tile of the bathroom wall as he zips them up and fastens his belt while you change. 

You thank him again for the clothes as you look in the mirror and turn around. 

“Look good on ya. Guess I did alright.” 

His face is flushed pink and his hair is a little messed up.  He seems to notice you looking at his face and he pushes himself off the wall to look in the mirror. He rakes his hand through his hair, then scratches one side of his beard, turning away from the mirror. 

–

You sit down for a late dinner. Neither of you look at the menu. Jojo orders cherry coke and a texas cheesesteak with double hashbrowns covered, smothered, and chunked. You order your favorite meal and he compliments it. Your eyes are on his forearms and tattoos. As he brings the sandwich to his mouth. God damn, how’d this fine ass man practically fall in  your lap? You feel like  you owe Mabel big time. 

You ask, “You really go grocery shoppin’?”

He raises his eyebrows and smiles with his mouth full, nodding.  “Mmm-hmm.” After he finishes chewing he washes it down with a sip of cherry coke, then adds, “but you know what i really want.” He looks at you darkly. “So tell me it’s all you can eat, baby.” 

“Just for you, Jojo. . .”

-----

yeah he wants to be covered and smothered in that.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I love your passion and your comments and reblogs really motivate me. <333

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[toxicanonymity]

Jailbird.

1.5k / Cellmate’s nephew!Joel x inmate f!reader

thank you @iamasaddie for the mood board!!!

PART 2 HERE: Collect calls

Summary: Your cellmate introduces you to her hot nephew and he comes to visitation hours. A/N: Part 1 of 3. This one is due to @beskarandblasters and @wannab-urs and their hilarious list of new joel tropes and @raccoonhandedhottie's nerve to put the idea of doing one in my head. My masterlist WARNINGS: References to sex work, ACAB. Horny phone/visitation talk, mild/non-explicit over-pants masturbation. Mickey Avalon Easter egg.

Without Mabel, you're not sure how you would've survived your first six months in lock-up. You were cuffed for solicitation when a dirty cop wouldn't pay what he owed.  He says he took it easy on you -- you also clawed him and spit in his face.  As soon as you told your new cellmate what really happened, she took a liking to you. She said you should've bitten him in the pecker.   Mabel had been there, done that. She even knew of the cop who put you away.  It wasn't Mabel's first time behind bars. She had the ink and reputation to prove it. Her knuckles said "TAKE NONE" and that was accurate.  By now, nobody gave her any shit. Soon enough, no one gave you any either. 

Mabel had a few photographs on her wall, mostly of her and a younger man. Not a particularly young man, but certainly younger than Mabel. He was probably in his early forties in the pictures, which were five years prior, before she violated her parole. She was giving you a poke and stick tat of a four leaf clover on your hand one day when you asked about the pictures. 

"I was wonderin' when ya were gonna ask about my lil Jojo. I've seen ya lookin' at him, ya little horndog..." 

She let you stammer around in response. "No, I, I'm just, making conversation, wanna get to know you better." 

"It's okay, baby. He's my nephew. All I got left. He's a neat kid."

"He looks happy to be with you–ouch!"

"Don't be a pussy. Oh, he's a real sweet boy. Bet he'd like you, too."

"What makes you say that?"

She looked up from your hand "cause ya got a cunt and you're not bad lookin'," she laughed. "Hey,” she raised her eyebrows. “You ever wanna borrow one of those pics, you let me know, I'll give ya some privacy."

"No thanks."

"Oh, come on. You can fold it so ya don't have to see my pretty face." 

You laughed. 

"Bet he'd dick ya down real good, too."

"What?" You asked, quietly disturbed. 

"He lives with me. Walls are thin." 

"Ah. That must be awkward."

"Not really! We're all human. I could even tell ya the kinda shit he says if ya want. He can get real filthy.  Or shit, I could just give ya his number."

"That's ok."

"Baby, he'd love to hear from ya. Trust me. I've told him all about ya." She put down the needle and picked up a tissue to dab your skin. 

"You have??"

"Oh yeah. Here, I'm gonna write it down." 

She took one of the photos off the wall and wrote his number on the back. Then she folded it in half and winked at you as she handed it to you. 

—----------------

It only took a week of her nagging for you to call “Jojo.” 

Your breath hitched when you heard his smooth, deep voice. The first thing he said was, “Ah, call me Joel,” and you could hear the smile on his face. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Well your aunt’s told me a lot about you, Joel.” 

“Yeah, I can only imagine what,” he faux grumbled. “Real character, ain’t she?”

“I love Mabel,” you blurted out. 

You found yourself opening up about how in some ways, she was more of a mother figure than you ever had.  Joel was easy to talk to. It just came pouring out. You told him about Mabel’s antics and the mischief the two of you got up to. Things you’d steal from the cafeteria. The way Mabel kept the ladies in line who tried to dom you. Next thing you knew, your time was up.  You apologized profusely for talking Joel’s ear off about yourself. 

“Nahhhh, it was nice,” Joel said. “Hell of a lot more interesting than my life.”

“Well it was good talking to you,” you told him. 

He said, “Hey, call me back any time.”

There was nothing sexy at all about that first conversation, but his voice did something to you.  You squeezed your thighs together when you got back to your cell and looked at the photo. Mabel kept giving you a knowing look. 

—------

You started calling Joel regularly.  Mabel told you he liked you a lot, but you weren’t sure if you should believe her. She seemed overly eager to set him up. The conversations were brief and casual. When you didn’t call him one week, the next time you spoke, he told you he missed the sound of your voice. 

Something came over you and you broke the tension. “My voice?” you asked. “Joel, your voice. . . you dunno what it does to me,” you blurted out. Zero to sixty, just like that. 

“Well damn,” Joel said. “Shoulda said somethin’. Coulda given ya better than stories about Mabel.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like whatever ya want, jailbird.” Your heart fluttered “Whatever gets ya hot and bothered.” 

“Honey, you could read me the phone book,” you told him. 

He chuckled. “Haven’t seen one of those in a few years.”  His voice was sexy to begin with but the sharp edge of the phone connection made it even hotter. 

After a moment of tense silence, he said, “Hey, uh, you notice any of your pictures missin’?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, Mabel mailed me one. Didn’t tell me you were a fuckin’ smokeshow.”

You laughed bashfully. 

“Well she did. But I had to see it for myself, and shit”

“Well, thanks. You’re not bad looking yourself.” 

Your time was almost up. 

“Hey I’m comin’ to see Mabel later this week. Y’all got the same visitor’s night or what? Cause I’d love to see you, too, if it’s allowed.” 

“Nah, mine’s the next night.” 

“S’alright, i’ll come back for ya, sugar.” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“I’ve gotta go.”

“I know. Be good, jailbird.” 

—--------

It was visitation day and you were getting nervous. Mabel thought it was adorable. She helped you get ready. Did your hair nice. “He’s already smitten with ya, baby,” she said. 

You were escorted into the visitation room and sat at one of the booths, separated by glass, with a phone on each side. 

When Joel came in, you didn’t recognize him at first.  In just those five years, his beard had turned half-silver.  He was striking in person.  He was wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans. Tight jeans. You couldn’t help but size up the bulge in them. 

When you looked up at his face, he was raising his eyebrows at you like he caught you looking.  He sat down and put his elbows on the table. You picked up the phone, a little nervous, but more excited than anything.  He checked you out and smiled at you coyly before picking up the phone. 

“Like what ya see?” he said softly into the phone. 

You replied with a low whistle, then asked, “You always dress like a piece of meat?” He had a few hand tattoos of his own. Faded, blurred together. A spade between his thumb and forefinger. A spiderweb curving around one of his biceps. He’d probably done his own time. 

“When the hell are ya gettin’ outta here?”

“Up for parole next month,” you said. 

“No shit!” He looked genuinely excited. 

“Mabel didn’t tell you?”

“Thought she was yankin’ my chain.” He stretched his free hand behind his head and you watched his bicep.  “You been good? Think you’ll get out?” 

“Haven’t been bad.” 

“Good.” He lowered his voice. “‘Cause sugar, I’m gonna need to see what’s under that garb.”

You smiled with faux shyness, and he continued, “God damn,” looking at you like a juicy leg of lamb. 

You stared at each other, checking each other out for a moment. You watched his pupils dilate as your chest rose and fell with desire. 

You made small talk for a minute or two, all the while fucking each other with your eyes. But, things took a turn again.

“What do you miss the most?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. “Bet ya don’t miss the clients.” 

You shook your head. 

He lowered his voice further. “When’s the last time ya had a nice hard cock ya really wanted?”

Your eyes widened. “Shit, I dunno.” 

“Ohhh you’re in for it.” You looked around, paranoid, in disbelief that you could get away with a conversation like this. “Ain’t nothin’ harder than mine, baby.” He reached his hand into his lap. “Fuck. ‘specially for you.” You could see his arm moving very slowly but there was no mistaking what he was doing.  His eyes devoured you.

“Joel,” you sighed. “Fuck, I believe it.” 

And just like that, a guard approached him from behind. “Time’s up,” the guard said and glared at you.  You rolled your eyes as a guard approached you, too.

Joel said “Later, jailbird” and hung up the phone.  When he stood up, his massive erection was visible and made your heart skip a beat.  You glanced up to his face and he was wetting his lips. He winked at you with pink cheeks and your eyes immediately fell back to his crotch as he adjusted himself and the guard hurried him away. 

FUCK. You were gushing. Mabel’s Jojo. Joel. What a man.

---------

Part 2

Ty for reading. strip club manager!Joel will be an alternate timeline of this Joel set in the past while Mabel was on parole. DIFFERENT READER. preview

this trope actually gave me so many more elaborate ideas lmao.

------

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret

[toxicanonymity]

Tox hear me out. I was rereading ur jailbird trilogy (my beloved) n what if it’s correctional officer!carter screening jojo and jailbirds dirty calls…he lets them slide bc he gets off to it lol. just a silly thought. Love your stuff <3

Jailbird masterlist | Carter masterlist

jailbird!Carter

Omg, you're so right. Love the idea of Carter sliding into this Au lol.

He has a low paying job and lives in a trailer with his friend and friend's girlfriend until they start trying to get pregnant and he decides to give them some privacy and gets an extended stay hotel room because he can't sleep overhearing them all night with his dick hard.

He might even know jailbird because she was a regular around that hotel. He's probably fucked a couple of the sex workers but not her, although they might've been friendly.

He surely knows of JoJo, everyone in the local criminal justice system does. Carter could've even done a stint at the facility where JoJo was locked up for 15 years.

Carter does drugs and doesn't sleep well and you can always see it in his face.

He smokes in non-smoking zones. A rebel who would totally end up wanking it on the job.

Lazily rubbing his big, pretty cock through his uniform, then pulling down his zipper, tooth by tooth, to slide in his huge, masculine hand.

Manspreading under the desk, which has a window to the inside of the jail.

Thank you for the thot!

omg @aurorawritestoescape found him.

[toxicanonymity]

Hi! So I’ve been thinking about young Jojo, and I made him on 🎞️ !!! I hope you like it (this is just the way I see him in my head - sorry if it’s inaccurate)

Helllll yeahhhhh

WHAT A CHAIN. Hell was boring? 🥵🥵🥵

This is beautiful. You're so in touch with Jojo. 🖤

Tysm ily 🖤🖤🖤

[toxicanonymity]

Aunt Mabel sounds like a riot i wanna be her best friend + Joel’s little jailbird 😩🙏🏼

I do too 🥲 and Mabel casually gave you a hand tattoo that kinda coordinates with Joel's?? It's black and has round leaves ♠️♣️

Jailbird, cellmate's nephew

[toxicanonymity]

I love Jojo 💕💕 💕 please make him a joelkémon, or jojokémon 😄😄😄

Whatever you write I will eat it up, thanks for feeding us well!

if I had to pick a Joel to spend just an hour with he might be near the top of my list rn 😭

✨jailbird

[milla-frenchy]

Jojo and Jailbird 🥰🥰🥰

You sit on Joel’s bed alone, wearing a short skirt, a lace bra, and fishnet stockings he already ripped wide open the last time you wore them.

Oooof, yes, please. I love when men rip clothes 🫠🥵

“What’s that in your brassiere, ma’am?” He takes a baton off his hip and gestures to your bra cup. Your chest is lightly dusted in a caramel flavored shimmer powder.  

Jailbird is always so hot 🔥🔥🔥

His hardness lightly grazes you, and you push your ass back instinctively. His left hand comes to your hip as his right hand snakes around your torso.  His voice is deep and gruff. “I’m thinkin’ this is dirty money.”

OMG these two are so damn hot!!

Your cuffed hands desperately feel around the front of his pants, and he shifts his hips to help you find what you're looking for.

They haven't fucked yet and I'm already feral 😭

You glance at his hip tattoo. Yeah.

I like the reminder of the tattoo

Your face heats up, and you reflexively lighten the conversation. “Why’d ya cuff me if ya wanted me on top,” you laugh. “Hell if I know what I want,” he admits. He kisses your neck then murmurs, “Just want ya every which way all the time.”

I love them. They're happy, they're so hot. I'm glad they found each other ❤️ I really loved reading them again, thank you 🙏

busted (jailbird one shot)

2.5k WORDS, JOEL "JOJO" MILLER x f!READER SUMMARY: You roleplay as cop and sex worker. WARNINGS: I8+, no plot just smut, roleplay, manhandling, handcuffs, bj, unsafe PIV, creampie, fluff. writer chooses not to warn in further detail, read at your own risk. Read alone or see jailbird masterlist for relationship & reader history. NOTES: On hiatus, but this has been in my tumblr drafts since 3/20. Ty for the ask. They've both served time. This happens while Joel's aunt/your former cellmate is still locked up. Ty again to everyone who made me write cellmate's nephew (history) 💀. Divider by @saradika-graphics. @toxicfics for notifications.

Masterlist | Blog FAQs

You sit on Joel’s bed alone, wearing a short skirt, a lace bra, and fishnet stockings he already ripped wide open the last time you wore them. You finish lacing up your boots, tuck a wad of cash into your bra, and get a tictac mint from your purse. Then you put on the bag and close the bedroom door behind you as you leave. 

As you walk into the living room, the front door opens. You realize you’re holding your breath and feel silly. Your heart skips a beat when he steps through the door. 

He pauses long enough for you to take in his whole form. . .tattooed arms swelling out from the sleeves of his slutty, blue uniform. Your eyes fall to his crotch as he turns to face you. The tight polyester pants leave little to the imagination. The whole, massive outline is visible atop his thigh, straining the fabric. He smooths his mustache and tilts his head, checking you out. Then he keeps a straight face as he steps toward you and says,

“‘S’cuse me, miss. Can I see some ID?”

Your heart flutters. You’ve played the part so many times. Played lots of parts. You're used to being who the client needs. But here you are with a little stage fright in front of your boo. And Jesus Christ, there’s something about his prison tattoos bursting out of that uniform. 

You stand still in the middle of the room and he slowly paces around you. A few feet away, but close enough to smell the cigarette he must have enjoyed outside and the cologne he reserves for date nights. The sight and smell of him makes you tingle. His touch might make you physically swoon. He clears his throat, and your face heats up. You lock eyes with him, and there’s a sparkle in his gaze, but he manages to hold firm, not breaking. 

“I, um – I have it somewhere.” You rifle through your bag.

“What’s that in your brassiere, ma’am?” He takes a baton off his hip and gestures to your bra cup. Your chest is lightly dusted in a caramel flavored shimmer powder.  

“Oh,” you stammer, looking away.  “I dunno why I put this here when I have a purse,” you mutter, half out of character.

“Just what I was thinkin’,” he cocks an eyebrow at you. He begins to stalk around you again, getting a little closer with each step, closing in on you. Then, he holsters his baton and stands behind your back, close enough to feel his body heat. You turn your face to the side and his scent wraps around you. 

His hardness lightly grazes you, and you push your ass back instinctively. His left hand comes to your hip as his right hand snakes around your torso.  His voice is deep and gruff.

“I’m thinkin’ this is dirty money.”

He trails his fingers slowly up your sternum, then over the curve of your left breast to your black push-up bra. You watch the faded barbed wire flex on his hand as he slides two fingers into the bra cup, retrieving the cash. He lowers his volume and his lips brush the shell of our ear. “Real dirty, honey.” 

“It’s nothing,” you shake your head, getting into a better rhythm. 

“Lemme take this off your hands,” he offers and lifts the strap of your purse off your shoulder. He stuffs the cash in it and tosses the purse to Mabel’s easychair. The tictacs rattle as it lands. He returns behind you, and this time, both hands go to your hips.

“I’m thinkin’ we can work somethin’ out,” he murmurs. His hands meander up your sides, then back down. He holds onto your hips and pulls you back against him, lightly grinding his hard length against your skirt, making you throb. 

“Fuck, Jo,” you whine in a whisper, pushing back on him like you shouldn't be. He exhales what you're pretty sure is a laugh. You can picture his smile. You're not ready to throw in the towel on this scene. You compose yourself and ask, “What are you doing?” You step forward, away from him, then turn around with a glare. 

He slowly rubs his arousal and adjusts himself. Then he puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight. He looks you up and down, slowly shakes his head, and clucks his tongue.  

“Y’know, I didn’t wanna have to do this.”  He reaches behind his back for his cuffs, and you head for the door. 

He grabs you by the arm, and you continue to pull away. 

“No,” you protest emptily, tingling at the thought of him getting rougher.

He wraps a strong arm around you and you keep squirming. He lets you pull away toward the door until you’re up against it. He presses his weight against you with a forearm on your upper back and warns, “Resisting arrest?” 

He wrangles your arms behind your back, and the cold metal edge makes you shiver as your first wrist is cuffed. The second cuff clicks into place and he tightens them. Your cuffed hands desperately feel around the front of his pants, and he shifts his hips to help you find what you're looking for. You softly moan when your palm meets the hard length in his pants. 

“So now ya wanna be good,” he taunts, then lets out a barely audible grunt, pressing his hips forward, arousal swelling against your palm.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, officer.” He takes your hands and puts them on your mid back, and you keep them there. He yanks the whole skirt up over your ass in one go, watching your ass drop, fishnet diamonds stretched over it. His hips push forward and his hardness makes you throb. 

“Spread’em,” he commands. 

You widen your stance. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then wedges a hand between you and the door. Your palms rest on his tummy as he shoves his hand between your legs and feels how wet you are through the pre-ruined fishnets. 

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he growls, then cruelly takes his hand away without so much as putting half a finger in you. 

He grabs you by one arm and pulls you over to the sofa. “Knees,” he murmurs, and helps you down onto the carpet. He pats your head then sits down on the sofa with a sigh, manspreading. He splays his arms out on the back of the couch and looks at you affectionately for a moment before his face hardens again. He takes off his fake utility belt in a hurry. 

“Got five minutes to convince me not to take ya in,” he warns, "If ya can handle it." He lifts his hips, giving you a rush of arousal. He pulls at his uniform pants, and they snap open at the side. This must have been quite a hit all those years ago on stage. For you, he's not wearing anything under them. You glance at his hip tattoo. Yeah.

He frees his massive cock and wraps his hand around the clean shaven base. He squeezes it as he looks at you darkly. "Such a bad girl." He scoots toward the edge of the sofa. Your hands are still handcuffed behind your back, skirt still sitting up above your ass.

You lean forward, dip your head, and he feeds you his cock. You slurp the fat head into your mouth and he sighs, watching you with a softening scowl. "Fuck yeah," he breathes. His knees bracket you and help you balance with no use of your hands as you bob your head. He moans as you suck him. You stretch your jaw, sucking at the smooth, salty tip, then take a few inches into your mouth and hold it, feeling him throb. "God damn," he curses softly. You suck with the back of your throat and carefully take as much as you can, expertly swallowing his length. You take him so deep that your lips brush his shaved pubic skin, and your eyes prickle with tears.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Get up here.” 

You slowly let his cock out of your mouth, and a string of slobber falls away with it.

He grabs your arms and helps you stand. He could stand to be rougher about it. But he's all but abandoning character, overtaken by the way you make him feel. The real you.

He helps you balance as you kneel onto the sofa, straddling him with your thighs spread wide. His breaths are heavy and getting heavier as he eyes your tits and the front closure of your bra. 

He sits up straight. He wraps an arm around you and interlaces his fingers with one of your cuffed hands. "Doin' so good, baby." With his other hand, he swiftly unhooks the front clasp of your bra, and the cups break apart, letting your tits fall out.  He takes a nipple into his mouth, then passionately licks and kisses his way up to your mouth. He palms one breast as he sucks the other and holds your hand behind your back. He pulls you right against him so your clit presses against his warm, hard cock and it makes him moan against your breast as he throbs against you.

He moves you, grinding his cock on your clit. He kisses your breast again, then drags his nose up your chest and feverishy kisses you everywhere on his way to your neck, where he sucks you long and slow. He lets go of your hand and slides his hand down, reaching under your ass to your cunt, where he slides his fingers through your slick then spreads you open for him.

He maneuvers you up to get clearance for his cock. He runs the tip through your slick, then massages your clit with it before notching at your entrance. You twitch at the contact, then begin to sink onto him and he pulls you down with a grunt.

"That's my girl," he breathes.

His lips find yours, and the kiss is long and slow with him seated fully inside you. He moves you on his cock, and his hips roll under you at a slow rhythm, stretching you with his girth, making you twitch already. You break the kiss with a moan.

You look down between your bodies, then purr, “is it hot in here, officer?” 

“God you're fuckin’ hot,” he gushes with urgency.  He reaches in his shirt pocket for the key to the handcuffs and wraps his arms around you. His cock twitches and he fumbles around as he uncuffs you. You rip open his snap button uniform top, then cradle his face and your lips smash back together and his tongue finds yours. He pulls you close. Your tits press into his chest and you moan into his mouth as you roll your hips.

You sigh and curse and moan against each other's mouths as you ride him.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “I coulda came soon as ya—fuck–the way you were clawin’ around for my cock just to feel it—ohhhh.”

He playfully plucks at the fishnets then kneads your ass as you fuck. He lets you take the lead, sliding his hands down to your legs, then your boots. He sighs, "Ohh, baby," as you ride him.

“Yeah,” you breathe, feeling sharply on the edge already, with his cock inside you and the ghost of it pressed up against you through those pants. 

“Ohh, fuck,” he pants, “yeah.” His flesh fills yours so perfectly, stretching you around him. Your body wetly hugs his length as he smoothly thrusts up into you. He growls into your neck, “I can't get enough’a ya.” You card your fingers through his hair. 

“God you feel good,” you gush. “So fucking good. He’s kissing your neck wet and sloppy now. You both breathe audibly. "God, I love this cock," you pant. Your breath is shallow with your pending peak. You grind against him, then let it overtake you. “Fuck,” you breathe as your walls flutter around him. 

He groans as you come on his cock.  As you finish your peak, he’s clearly holding back. You look down at his inked torso glistening. 

You both watch where your bodies meet, and you tell him, “i want you to come.”

“c'mere” he takes your jaw in one hand, and brings your lips back to his. He holds you tight, kissing you for a few thrusts, then his lips fall apart to moan and breathe vocally as he fucks you.

He pulses inside, pinching his eyes shut. He groans into your cheek, and you finger his curls as he pumps you full. Then you relax into his arms.

-

You share a long moment without words, and he holds your head. Then he uses his chest to push you slightly off him. He looks you in the eyes, then does a double take down to your tits and dips his head to kiss one before returning his attention to your face. 

You're still on his cock, and the stretch persists even as he slowly softens.

He looks back and forth between your eyes and blurts out, “you should move in.” 

You laugh in shock. 

“‘m’serious, baby,” he says with a smile. You bite away another laugh and his smile fades. He whispers, “Dead serious.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, then breaks away to await your answer. 

You haven't thought about it, really. Not yet, anyway. But it doesn't feel out of the question. You glance over to Mabel’s chair. 

“She knows,” he assures you. It doesn't make a difference right now, but you pray she'll get paroled sooner rather than later. 

“Just think about it,” he offers. 

You nod and bite your lip, running your hand through his hair affectionately, still plugged by his cock. "Tempting," you smile.

“I'm a lucky man either way,” he says.

Your face heats up, and you reflexively lighten the conversation. “Why’d ya cuff me if ya wanted me on top,” you laugh.

“Hell if I know what I want,” he admits. He kisses your neck then murmurs, “Just want ya every which way all the time.”

thank you for reading, and thank you for your support. love you guys <333. my tag list is gone for real this time, sorry. I'm also on a break from writing & reading but had this in my drafts.

[xdaddysprincessxx]

The way in which I need this man. In my life. Inside every hole in my body. In my bed.

I am not well.

busted (jailbird one shot)

2.5k WORDS, JOEL "JOJO" MILLER x f!READER SUMMARY: You roleplay as cop and sex worker. WARNINGS: I8+, no plot just smut, roleplay, manhandling, handcuffs, bj, unsafe PIV, creampie, fluff. writer chooses not to warn in further detail, read at your own risk. Read alone or see jailbird masterlist for relationship & reader history. NOTES: On hiatus, but this has been in my tumblr drafts since 3/20. Ty for the ask. They've both served time. This happens while Joel's aunt/your former cellmate is still locked up. Ty again to everyone who made me write cellmate's nephew (history) 💀. Divider by @saradika-graphics. @toxicfics for notifications.

Masterlist | Blog FAQs

You sit on Joel’s bed alone, wearing a short skirt, a lace bra, and fishnet stockings he already ripped wide open the last time you wore them. You finish lacing up your boots, tuck a wad of cash into your bra, and get a tictac mint from your purse. Then you put on the bag and close the bedroom door behind you as you leave. 

As you walk into the living room, the front door opens. You realize you’re holding your breath and feel silly. Your heart skips a beat when he steps through the door. 

He pauses long enough for you to take in his whole form. . .tattooed arms swelling out from the sleeves of his slutty, blue uniform. Your eyes fall to his crotch as he turns to face you. The tight polyester pants leave little to the imagination. The whole, massive outline is visible atop his thigh, straining the fabric. He smooths his mustache and tilts his head, checking you out. Then he keeps a straight face as he steps toward you and says,

“‘S’cuse me, miss. Can I see some ID?”

Your heart flutters. You’ve played the part so many times. Played lots of parts. You're used to being who the client needs. But here you are with a little stage fright in front of your boo. And Jesus Christ, there’s something about his prison tattoos bursting out of that uniform. 

You stand still in the middle of the room and he slowly paces around you. A few feet away, but close enough to smell the cigarette he must have enjoyed outside and the cologne he reserves for date nights. The sight and smell of him makes you tingle. His touch might make you physically swoon. He clears his throat, and your face heats up. You lock eyes with him, and there’s a sparkle in his gaze, but he manages to hold firm, not breaking. 

“I, um – I have it somewhere.” You rifle through your bag.

“What’s that in your brassiere, ma’am?” He takes a baton off his hip and gestures to your bra cup. Your chest is lightly dusted in a caramel flavored shimmer powder.  

“Oh,” you stammer, looking away.  “I dunno why I put this here when I have a purse,” you mutter, half out of character.

“Just what I was thinkin’,” he cocks an eyebrow at you. He begins to stalk around you again, getting a little closer with each step, closing in on you. Then, he holsters his baton and stands behind your back, close enough to feel his body heat. You turn your face to the side and his scent wraps around you. 

His hardness lightly grazes you, and you push your ass back instinctively. His left hand comes to your hip as his right hand snakes around your torso.  His voice is deep and gruff.

“I’m thinkin’ this is dirty money.”

He trails his fingers slowly up your sternum, then over the curve of your left breast to your black push-up bra. You watch the faded barbed wire flex on his hand as he slides two fingers into the bra cup, retrieving the cash. He lowers his volume and his lips brush the shell of our ear. “Real dirty, honey.” 

“It’s nothing,” you shake your head, getting into a better rhythm. 

“Lemme take this off your hands,” he offers and lifts the strap of your purse off your shoulder. He stuffs the cash in it and tosses the purse to Mabel’s easychair. The tictacs rattle as it lands. He returns behind you, and this time, both hands go to your hips.

“I’m thinkin’ we can work somethin’ out,” he murmurs. His hands meander up your sides, then back down. He holds onto your hips and pulls you back against him, lightly grinding his hard length against your skirt, making you throb. 

“Fuck, Jo,” you whine in a whisper, pushing back on him like you shouldn't be. He exhales what you're pretty sure is a laugh. You can picture his smile. You're not ready to throw in the towel on this scene. You compose yourself and ask, “What are you doing?” You step forward, away from him, then turn around with a glare. 

He slowly rubs his arousal and adjusts himself. Then he puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight. He looks you up and down, slowly shakes his head, and clucks his tongue.  

“Y’know, I didn’t wanna have to do this.”  He reaches behind his back for his cuffs, and you head for the door. 

He grabs you by the arm, and you continue to pull away. 

“No,” you protest emptily, tingling at the thought of him getting rougher.

He wraps a strong arm around you and you keep squirming. He lets you pull away toward the door until you’re up against it. He presses his weight against you with a forearm on your upper back and warns, “Resisting arrest?” 

He wrangles your arms behind your back, and the cold metal edge makes you shiver as your first wrist is cuffed. The second cuff clicks into place and he tightens them. Your cuffed hands desperately feel around the front of his pants, and he shifts his hips to help you find what you're looking for. You softly moan when your palm meets the hard length in his pants. 

“So now ya wanna be good,” he taunts, then lets out a barely audible grunt, pressing his hips forward, arousal swelling against your palm.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, officer.” He takes your hands and puts them on your mid back, and you keep them there. He yanks the whole skirt up over your ass in one go, watching your ass drop, fishnet diamonds stretched over it. His hips push forward and his hardness makes you throb. 

“Spread’em,” he commands. 

You widen your stance. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then wedges a hand between you and the door. Your palms rest on his tummy as he shoves his hand between your legs and feels how wet you are through the pre-ruined fishnets. 

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he growls, then cruelly takes his hand away without so much as putting half a finger in you. 

He grabs you by one arm and pulls you over to the sofa. “Knees,” he murmurs, and helps you down onto the carpet. He pats your head then sits down on the sofa with a sigh, manspreading. He splays his arms out on the back of the couch and looks at you affectionately for a moment before his face hardens again. He takes off his fake utility belt in a hurry. 

“Got five minutes to convince me not to take ya in,” he warns, "If ya can handle it." He lifts his hips, giving you a rush of arousal. He pulls at his uniform pants, and they snap open at the side. This must have been quite a hit all those years ago on stage. For you, he's not wearing anything under them. You glance at his hip tattoo. Yeah.

He frees his massive cock and wraps his hand around the clean shaven base. He squeezes it as he looks at you darkly. "Such a bad girl." He scoots toward the edge of the sofa. Your hands are still handcuffed behind your back, skirt still sitting up above your ass.

You lean forward, dip your head, and he feeds you his cock. You slurp the fat head into your mouth and he sighs, watching you with a softening scowl. "Fuck yeah," he breathes. His knees bracket you and help you balance with no use of your hands as you bob your head. He moans as you suck him. You stretch your jaw, sucking at the smooth, salty tip, then take a few inches into your mouth and hold it, feeling him throb. "God damn," he curses softly. You suck with the back of your throat and carefully take as much as you can, expertly swallowing his length. You take him so deep that your lips brush his shaved pubic skin, and your eyes prickle with tears.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Get up here.” 

You slowly let his cock out of your mouth, and a string of slobber falls away with it.

He grabs your arms and helps you stand. He could stand to be rougher about it. But he's all but abandoning character, overtaken by the way you make him feel. The real you.

He helps you balance as you kneel onto the sofa, straddling him with your thighs spread wide. His breaths are heavy and getting heavier as he eyes your tits and the front closure of your bra. 

He sits up straight. He wraps an arm around you and interlaces his fingers with one of your cuffed hands. "Doin' so good, baby." With his other hand, he swiftly unhooks the front clasp of your bra, and the cups break apart, letting your tits fall out.  He takes a nipple into his mouth, then passionately licks and kisses his way up to your mouth. He palms one breast as he sucks the other and holds your hand behind your back. He pulls you right against him so your clit presses against his warm, hard cock and it makes him moan against your breast as he throbs against you.

He moves you, grinding his cock on your clit. He kisses your breast again, then drags his nose up your chest and feverishy kisses you everywhere on his way to your neck, where he sucks you long and slow. He lets go of your hand and slides his hand down, reaching under your ass to your cunt, where he slides his fingers through your slick then spreads you open for him.

He maneuvers you up to get clearance for his cock. He runs the tip through your slick, then massages your clit with it before notching at your entrance. You twitch at the contact, then begin to sink onto him and he pulls you down with a grunt.

"That's my girl," he breathes.

His lips find yours, and the kiss is long and slow with him seated fully inside you. He moves you on his cock, and his hips roll under you at a slow rhythm, stretching you with his girth, making you twitch already. You break the kiss with a moan.

You look down between your bodies, then purr, “is it hot in here, officer?” 

“God you're fuckin’ hot,” he gushes with urgency.  He reaches in his shirt pocket for the key to the handcuffs and wraps his arms around you. His cock twitches and he fumbles around as he uncuffs you. You rip open his snap button uniform top, then cradle his face and your lips smash back together and his tongue finds yours. He pulls you close. Your tits press into his chest and you moan into his mouth as you roll your hips.

You sigh and curse and moan against each other's mouths as you ride him.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “I coulda came soon as ya—fuck–the way you were clawin’ around for my cock just to feel it—ohhhh.”

He playfully plucks at the fishnets then kneads your ass as you fuck. He lets you take the lead, sliding his hands down to your legs, then your boots. He sighs, "Ohh, baby," as you ride him.

“Yeah,” you breathe, feeling sharply on the edge already, with his cock inside you and the ghost of it pressed up against you through those pants. 

“Ohh, fuck,” he pants, “yeah.” His flesh fills yours so perfectly, stretching you around him. Your body wetly hugs his length as he smoothly thrusts up into you. He growls into your neck, “I can't get enough’a ya.” You card your fingers through his hair. 

“God you feel good,” you gush. “So fucking good. He’s kissing your neck wet and sloppy now. You both breathe audibly. "God, I love this cock," you pant. Your breath is shallow with your pending peak. You grind against him, then let it overtake you. “Fuck,” you breathe as your walls flutter around him. 

He groans as you come on his cock.  As you finish your peak, he’s clearly holding back. You look down at his inked torso glistening. 

You both watch where your bodies meet, and you tell him, “i want you to come.”

“c'mere” he takes your jaw in one hand, and brings your lips back to his. He holds you tight, kissing you for a few thrusts, then his lips fall apart to moan and breathe vocally as he fucks you.

He pulses inside, pinching his eyes shut. He groans into your cheek, and you finger his curls as he pumps you full. Then you relax into his arms.

-

You share a long moment without words, and he holds your head. Then he uses his chest to push you slightly off him. He looks you in the eyes, then does a double take down to your tits and dips his head to kiss one before returning his attention to your face. 

You're still on his cock, and the stretch persists even as he slowly softens.

He looks back and forth between your eyes and blurts out, “you should move in.” 

You laugh in shock. 

“‘m’serious, baby,” he says with a smile. You bite away another laugh and his smile fades. He whispers, “Dead serious.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, then breaks away to await your answer. 

You haven't thought about it, really. Not yet, anyway. But it doesn't feel out of the question. You glance over to Mabel’s chair. 

“She knows,” he assures you. It doesn't make a difference right now, but you pray she'll get paroled sooner rather than later. 

“Just think about it,” he offers. 

You nod and bite your lip, running your hand through his hair affectionately, still plugged by his cock. "Tempting," you smile.

“I'm a lucky man either way,” he says.

Your face heats up, and you reflexively lighten the conversation. “Why’d ya cuff me if ya wanted me on top,” you laugh.

“Hell if I know what I want,” he admits. He kisses your neck then murmurs, “Just want ya every which way all the time.”

thank you for reading, and thank you for your support. love you guys <333. my tag list is gone for real this time, sorry. I'm also on a break from writing & reading but had this in my drafts.

[not-a-unique-snowflake-blog]

Am I surprised that it’s amazing? No! Am I hot and bothered for Jojo? HELL YEAH!🥵🥵🥵

Love this AU! The details, the characters🤌 Mabel is so fun! Joel is WOW!🫠 his tats, his sweet taking, his confidence, his MASSIVE ERECTION🍆🙄 I desperately want him to call me ‘jailbird’ in a more intimate setting😏🥵DAMN THAT GLASS!!😩😩😩

Jailbird.

1.5k / Cellmate’s nephew!Joel x inmate f!reader Summary: Tongue in cheek fic? But he's also kinda hot? Your cellmate introduces you to her hot nephew. A/N: Y am i the way that I am? So many worthy things I couldn't get traction on today so fuck it we ball with this. This one is due to @beskarandblasters and @wannab-urs and their hilarious list of new joel tropes and @raccoonhandedhottie's nerve to put this in my head. I suppose needed a palate cleanser. Btw I have multiple DBFs, BFD, BD, etc. WARNINGS: References to you being a sex worker. ACAB. Horny phone/visitation talk, mild/non-explicit masturbation. Unedited.

Without Mabel, you're not sure how you would've survived your first six months in lock-up. You were cuffed for solicitation when a dirty cop wouldn't pay you what he owed.  Technically, he says he took it easy on you because you also clawed him and spit in his face.  As soon as you told your new cellmate what really happened, she took a liking to you. She said you should have bitten him in the pecker.   Mabel had been there, done that. She even knew of the cop who put you away.  It wasn't Mabel's first time behind bars. She had the ink and reputation to prove it. Her knuckles said "TAKE NONE" and that was accurate.  By now, nobody gave her any shit. Soon enough, no one gave you any either. 

Mabel had a few photographs on her walls, mostly of her and a younger man. Not a particularly young man, but certainly younger than Mabel. He was probably in his early forties in the pictures, which were taken five years prior when she was out on parole, before she violated it. She was giving you a poke and stick tat of a four leaf clover on your hand  one day when you asked about the pictures. 

"I was wond'rin' when you were gonna ask about my lil Jojo. I've seen ya lookin' at him, ya little horn dog..." 

She let you stammer around in response. "No, I, I'm just, making conversation, wanna get to know you better." 

"It's okay, baby. He's my nephew. All I got left. He's a neat kid."

"He looks happy to be with you–ouch!"

"Don't be a pussy. Oh, he's a real sweet boy. Bet he'd like you, too."

"What makes you say that?"

She looked up from your hand "cause ya got a cunt and you're not bad lookin'," she laughed. "Hey,” she raised her eyebrows. “You ever wanna borrow one of those pics, you let me know, I'll give ya some privacy."

"No thanks."

"Oh, come on. You can fold it so ya don't have to see my pretty face." 

You laughed. 

"Bet he'd dick ya down real good, too."

"What?" You asked, quietly disturbed. 

"He lives with me. Walls are thin." 

"Ah. That must be awkward."

"Not really! We're all human. I could even tell ya the kinda shit he says if ya want. He can get real filthy.  Or shit, I could just give ya his number."

"That's ok."

"Baby, he'd love to hear from ya. Trust me. I've told him all about ya." She put down the needle and picked up a tissue to dab your skin. 

"You have??"

"Oh yeah. Here, I'm gonna write it down." 

She took one of the photos off the wall and wrote his number on the back. Then she folded it in half and winked at you as she handed it to you. 

—----------------

It only took a week of her nagging for you to call “Jojo.” 

Your breath hitched when you heard his smooth, deep voice. The first thing he said was, “Ah, call me Joel,” and you could hear the smile on his face. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you laughed. “Well your aunt’s told me a lot about you, Joel.” 

“Yeah, I can only imagine what,” he faux grumbled. “Real character, ain’t she?”

“I love Mabel,” you blurted out. 

You found yourself opening up about how in some ways, she was more of a mother figure than you ever had.  Joel was easy to talk to. It just came pouring out. You told him about Mabel’s antics and the mischief the two of you got up to. Things you’d steal from the cafeteria. The way Mabel kept the ladies in line who tried to dom you. Next thing you knew, your time was up.  You apologized profusely for talking Joel’s ear off about yourself. 

“Nahhhh, it was nice,” Joel said. “Hell of a lot more interesting than my life.”

“Well it was good talking to you,” you told him. 

He said, “Hey, call me back any time.”

There was nothing sexy at all about that first conversation, but his voice did something to you.  You squeezed your thighs together when you got back to your cell and looked at the photo. Mabel kept giving you a knowing look. 

—------

You started calling Joel regularly.  Mabel told you he liked you a lot, but you weren’t sure if you should believe her. She seemed overly eager to set him up. The conversations were brief and casual. When you didn’t call him one week, the next time you spoke, he told you he missed the sound of your voice. 

Something came over you and you broke the tension. “My voice?” you asked. “Joel, your voice. . . you dunno what it does to me,” you blurted out. Zero to sixty, just like that. 

“Well damn,” Joel said. “Shoulda said somethin’. Coulda given ya better than stories about me and Mabel.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like whatever ya want, jailbird.” Your heart fluttered “Whatever gets ya hot and bothered.” 

“Honey, you could read me the phone book,” you told him. 

He chuckled. “Haven’t seen one of those in a few years.”  His voice was sexy to begin with but the sharp edge of the phone connection made it even hotter. 

After a moment of tense silence, he said, “Hey, uh, you notice any of your pictures missin’?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, Mabel mailed me one. Didn’t tell me you were a fuckin’ smokeshow.”

You laughed bashfully. 

“Well she did. But I had to see it for myself, and shit”

“Well, thanks. You’re not bad looking yourself.” 

Your time was almost up. 

“Hey I’m comin’ to see Mabel later this week. Y’all got the same visitor’s night or what? Cause I’d love to see you, too, if it’s allowed.” 

“Nah, mine’s the next night.” 

“S’alright, i’ll come back for ya, sugar.” Your heart skipped a beat. 

“I’ve gotta go.”

“I know. Be good, jailbird.” 

—--------

It was visitation day and you were getting nervous. Mabel thought it was adorable. She helped you get ready. Did your hair nice. “He’s already smitten with ya, baby,” she said. 

You were escorted into the visitation room and sat at one of the booths, separated by glass, with a phone on each side. 

When Joel came in, you didn’t recognize him at first.  In just those five years, his beard had turned half-silver.  He was striking in person.  He was wearing a tight white t-shirt and jeans. Tight jeans. You couldn’t help but size up the bulge in them. 

When you looked up at his face, he was raising his eyebrows at you like he caught you looking.  He sat down and put his elbows on the table. You picked up the phone, a little nervous, but more excited than anything.  He checked you out and smiled at you coyly before picking up the phone. 

“Like what ya see?” he said softly into the phone. 

You replied with a low whistle, then asked, “You always dress like a piece of meat?” He had a few hand tattoos of his own. Faded, blurred together. A spade between his thumb and forefinger. A spiderweb on one of his biceps. He’d probably done his own time. 

“When the hell are ya gettin’ outta here?”

“Up for parole next month,” you said. 

“No shit!” He looked genuinely excited. 

“Mabel didn’t tell you?”

“Thought she was yankin’ my chain.” He stretched his free hand behind his head and you watched his bicep.  “You been good? Think you’ll get out?” 

“Haven’t been bad.” 

“Good.” He lowered his voice. “‘Cause sugar, I’m gonna need to see what’s under that garb.”

You smiled with faux shyness, and he continued, “God damn,” looking at you like a juicy leg of lamb. 

You stared at each other, checking each other out for a moment. You watched his pupils dilate as your chest rose and fell with desire. 

You made small talk for a minute or two, all the while fucking each other with your eyes. But, things took a turn again.

“What do you miss the most?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. “Bet ya don’t miss the clients.” 

You shook your head. 

He lowered his voice further. “When’s the last time ya had a nice hard cock ya really wanted?”

Your eyes widened. “Shit, I dunno.” 

“Ohhh you’re in for it.” You looked around, paranoid, in disbelief that you could get away with a conversation like this. “Ain’t nothin’ harder than mine, baby.” He reached his hand into his lap. “Fuck. ‘specially for you.” You could see his arm moving very slowly but there was no mistaking what he was doing.  His eyes devoured you.

“Joel,” you sighed. “Fuck, I believe it.” 

And just like that, a guard approached him from behind. “Time’s up,” the guard said and glared at you.  You rolled your eyes as a guard approached you, too.

Joel said “Later, jailbird” and hung up the phone.  When he stood up, his massive erection was visible and made your heart skip a beat.  You glanced up to his face and he was wetting his lips. He winked at you with pink cheeks and your eyes immediately fell back to his crotch as he adjusted himself and the guard hurried him away. 

FUCK. You were gushing. Mabel’s Jojo. Joel. What a man.

----------

Ty for reading. Yes there's more if enough people engage. But i know people are waiting on so much other stuff from me lol 💗

this trope actually gave me so many more elaborate ideas lmao.

------

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

[xdaddysprincessxx]

I YEARN FOR THIS MANS DICK!!!!!!!!!!! HOLYFUCKINGSHITBALLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The day they finally get their hands on each other is the day my horny heart is gonna give out and I’m gonna die and go to horny heaven rip 🪦 can’t wait!

Collect calls.

3600, cellmate's nephew!Joel x inmate f!reader

brilliant edit by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog. custom tats!

SUMMARY: You kinda try to be careful over the phone, but you want each other too bad. So it's hard. Rock hard. Joel sends you a short letter and comes to visit again. Follows Jailbird, but this is 69% dirty talk (I did the math). You can prob read alone. WARNINGS: I8+ SO HORNY, hella dirty talk from both, phone sex, mild degradation/teasing, tension, masturbation, Joel is a slut and mentions getting blown, creative mail. Barely edited horny chaos but I wanna feed ya and this ain't fine dining. A/N: Thank you for the love on Jailbird! And THANK YOU @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the amazing edit omg. Make sure you see the Jojo gif 🥵 It has his specific tattoos and all. 😍 joel master list, @toxicfics for notifs.

When you got back from visitation, your cellmate Mabel lit up.  She was excited to hear about it, but when she looked you over, she said, “Oh boy, it’s worse than I thought. . . I’m gonna go play spades, honey. You do what ya need to do.” 

You shook your head, “Mabel. . .”

“Take your time,” she said with a wink. "Not that you'll need it." Then she stood up and stretched before leaving the cell.  

You got in your bed, on your side, under the blanket. You clenched your thighs together looking at the picture of a slightly younger him with not nearly as much silver in his beard. You put your pillow between your legs, rolled over so you were mostly stomach-down, and your hips moved as you put your head in the crook of your arm and recalled the way he looked at you, his strong hands, his tattoos. His voice. You wondered what it sounded like when it wasn’t through a telephone, but god damn, it did something to you. “ain’t nothin’ harder than mine, baby.” Fuck. 

You were already getting close, wouldn’t even need to use your hand at this rate. You thought about the way his arm flexed as his hand moved in his lap. Oh God, the bulge and outline in his jeans when he stood up. The way he adjusted himself.  He might be too big for you to take all of him, but god damn, you'd give it your best shot. You rubbed yourself against your pillow to the rhythm of his hand rubbing his lap in your mind, clenched your thighs again and you came, whining "Jojo" into your elbow. You heard it too many times a day to get it out of your head – He told you to call him Joel, but Mabel made it somewhat difficult. 

---

He was hot as fuck, but it was also cute how close he and Mabel were. It made him seem like a good guy, even though neither of them were particularly upstanding members of society.  You supposed neither were you by most standards, but it’s not like any of you had ever intentionally hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. That you knew of.  The fact that Jojo served time was hot and also put you at ease. It had to have been a while based on the spiderweb, unless he was just trying to look hard, but he didn’t seem the type to bullshit anything. How did you even know what type he was though? You hardly knew  him? You dreaded Mabel’s teasing but you could withstand it in order to find out more.

You got off once more while you were at it, taking advantage of the privacy.  Then you sat up, rested against the wall, and just looked at the picture. Unfolded, you looked at both of them. It was so sweet. He looked happy. His hand on her shoulder had the spade tattoo.  Your eyes fell on your own poke-and-stick clover from Mabel and your stomach fluttered when you saw the flared stem and circular leaves. It might as well have been a Club.  “Mabel,” you muttered and shook your head.  

While she was still playing Spades, you went over to her bed to look at the other photos up close. In another picture, they were at a barbecue in a parking lot. Joel was on the left and Mabel was on the right. Joel was wearing a wifebeater and Mabel was wearing a black t-shirt with a carousel pony on the right pocket.  

You hadn’t noticed before, but there were a few women in swimsuits and aprons in the background. One of them was looking at Jojo. Who wouldn’t? Mabel’s words echoed in your mind — of course he’d like you. You’ve got a cunt and  you’re not bad lookin'. you rolled your eyes. Shit. You resolved to put yourself in pro mode and try to detach. 

—--

Over the next week, you spoke with him several times on the phone. You tried to be careful. You wren’t sure if all calls were reviewed or it was just by sample. You figured it would be suspicious to ask. You hoped whoever listened didn’t mind some harmless horny talk.  The only stuff they should really care about should be scheming. Like making moves and putting out hits from the inside. Or smuggling from the outside. 

—---

He answered the phone, “There she is.”  A vaguely endearing greeting since you and Mabel called from the same collect number. 

“Hey handsome,” you responded. 

“I was just thinkin’ about ya, jailbird.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” he said deeply then sighed. “Ya just missed it.” Good God, his voice.

“Missed–”

“C’mon, baby. Use that pretty head. How bout I’ll wait for ya tomorrow?” 

Your heart skipped a beat.  “Yeah.”

“Just call at the same time.” 

“Okay,” you agreed with a smile in your voice. “It was nice to see you the other day. . .” 

“Oh, baby you got no idea,” he groaned. “I’m comin’ back next week.” 

“Are they gonna let you back?” you giggled.

“They’ve gotta! I didn’t do nothin’.”

“You didn’t. . .you’re right. . .” 

“Hey don’t give’em any ideas.”

"Right," you laughed. 

"What are ya gonna do when ya get out?"

“In general? Try to find honest work, I guess.” 

“Nothin’ dishonest ‘bout what you were doin’. But I hear ya, parole’s a bitch.” 

“You on parole?”

“Nah, long time ago though.” 

‘Yeah?”

“Kept my nose clean the whole damn time.  Ended up back in the can anyway.” 

"For what"

"Framed for fuckin' murder."

"What??"

"Relax, I was exonerated." 

"No shit."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "You ever danced?"

"Course I fuckin' danced"

"Where at?"

"In memphis."

"Oh, I dunno jack shit about that scene."

"Wasn't great."

"Guess that's where you uh, got your start though."

"Yeah."

"Well do what ya want but lemme know if ya need a gig."

'Thanks." 

He sighed. "I know it sucks not gettin' any in there. "

"Yeah."

"Are ya? Gettin' any? Girls, guards?"

"No," you answered, looking over your shoulder. "Think I could tell ya if I was, though?"

"Shit, sorry." 

"You gettin' any?" 

"Oh I'm a straight up ho." 

"Yeah?" You asked, intrigued.  "Surprised I hadn't seen ya at the clinic," you teased. 

"Cause I'm way the fuck across town, got our own clinic." 

"Good for you." A pleasant surprise that he stayed clean. 

"Yeah, on a first name basis. Make my girls go, too. Still wrap it most the time though." 

"Your girls."

"Dancers."

"Right." Mabel had mentioned he worked at a club. "Well, at least one of us is gettin' some."

"Shit, I was gettin' some sugar the other night," he said. "Pretty little head between my legs 'n I was lookin' at your picture."

Your heart fluttered. "No shit," you laughed. "My picture, huh?"

"Ohh, you don't even know. I want it bad, sugar, and I ain’t even tasted it." 

"Yeah?" 

"Shit I prolly think about it as much as you do . . .and I've got a life." 

"Who says I think about it?" You asked flirtatiously.

"I got ESP. Makes me tingle when ya do."

"Oh does it?"

"Ya think about me in the shower, in bed. . ." 

You laughed. "And where do you think about me?"

"Fuckin' everywhere. I've gotta have ya, baby. So bad it hurts." 

—----------

Whenever you came back to your cell after talking to Jojo, Mabel would leave to make a phone call or go to the common area to watch whatever outdated movie was playing in the common area. Often with a wink. She knew he got you all wound up. 

—----------

You called him at the same time the next day. 

"How's your week been," you asked. 

"Hard," he said, then his voice became hornier.  "So fuckin' hard. . . n' that's all you." You could hear his belt and zipper. 

"Wish I could help."

“i'm sure ya can once you're out. If you wanna hang out sometime.” You heard a bottle click open then squirt. 

You teasingly hummed as though thinking it over. "Mmmm. . . .I dunno, what would you wanna do?”

“I can pick ya up right from the slammer, ‘less ya got someone else.”

“I don’t.”

“Great, then we can just. . . i dunno, get to know each other,” he mused, then added at a lower pitch, “In the back seat of my whip. Stop off somewhere close.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “You don’t understand, baby. I’ve gotta see what’s under that garb.” His hand was sliding up and down his lubed up cock. “I’ve gotta feel it.” 

Butterflies swarmed in your chest and you sighed.

“What were ya wearin’ when ya got picked up?”

“Well. . . you already know what I’m in for. . .”

"Damn right I do, and you're gonna find out."

You laughed – at visitation, he said you were in for it. . 

"C’mon, jailbird. What were ya wearin.”

“A black microskirt"

"Mmm."

"Black mesh crop top"

"Yeahhh"

"Over a pink bra.”

“Ohhh, fuck,” he sighed. “Shoes?”

“Shit, I’m not–hmm." You tried not to overthink it. "Definitely platforms. Silver and clear, I think."

He gave a low whistle. "Sounds hot as shit." 

“And fishnets. Shit, that's all I had,” you laughed. "Maybe you can bring me something else." 

“God damn, that’s what I get to pick ya up in?”

“I mean, I wasn’t planning on the fishnets.”

“Commando in that skirt? Shit, that’s even better.” His breath grew heavier. "Fuck it, just sit on me while I drive," he murmured. "Yeah, fuckin' sit on *this* the whole drive–ugghh." As if avoiding the word cock would make this conversation passable.

You sighed and tried to hide your arousal from the Corrections Officer (CO) standing 8 ft away. 

"Can't get it in ya soon enough, baby." 

"Mmm," you said quietly. "Can't wait."

"Jailbird, you're fuckin killin' me." He moaned. "Hot as hell. . . fuck."

"You sure I can take it?"

"Fuck, I dunno, baby," he panted. "It's a lot."

"I could tell"

"Uugggghhh," He groaned and you heard his hand sliding faster on his dick. "And what'd ya think about that ?"

"Oh, I’m up for the challenge,” you cooed saucily. "Just get me nice 'n ready."

"You ready right now?"

"The second I heard your voice."

"Fuck, I gotta know what ya taste like"

"Mmm."

"Yeah," he panted.,"And when you're nice and ready, then what?"

You lowered your voice to a near whisper. "Oh, just fuckin' wreck me. Split me open, baby."

"Ohhh god"

"Don't hold back"

"Ohh fuck–couldnt if I tried." He sighed.

You had lost all restraint and just prayed whoever reviewed this call would be cool.  

"Just stuff me full of it," you whispered. 

"Fuck, yeah."

"Stretch me out." 

"Ohh yeah." 

"Pound me so hard i can’t see straight."

"Shit." He moaned and his hand moved faster. 

"And then? Fill me the fuck up. I wanna feel it." 

"Fuck yeah," he panted "i'll be seepin' outta ya for days."

"Then you better fill me up again." 

"Jesus, fuck–ohhh." 

"Don't tell me you'd spill it this fast."

"Oh fuck you," he laughed in good humor. "I'm not spillin' shit." You could still hear his hand. 

"Not even if I'm sittin' on ya while ya drive?"

"Not even." 

"Not with one hand on the wheel and one on my tit?"

"Ohh fuck," he breathes.  "No, no. . ."

"And I'm moanin' your name with every bump in the road?"

"Mmmm, fuck, baby."

"Oh ya like that?" 

"Fuckin'--fuck–fuckin' love it."

"Wouldya mind slidin' that hand down between my legs?" 

"Wherever ya want it, baby."

"Ugh, those big hands," you whispered. "I just know you can use'em."

"Fuckin' right I can," he panted.  

"Hope ya don't finish while you're drivin' with me in your lap."

"All ya gotta do is sit still."

"Imagine the mess if you came." 

"Fuck, baby," he sighed.

"Every time we hit a bump, more would spill out in  your lap.”

“Ohh, fuck."  Then a long, drawn out moan like he was coming. You were throbbing wildly. 

"Knew ya were close," you laughed. Then you heard a heavy smack on his end of the line. Then there was nothing but breathing for a minute, then it sounded like he was writing. 

"What are you doing now?"

"Addressing an envelope."

"You're not mailing me your–"

"No I'm not mailin' you my" he laughed,  "Load."

"Just a letter?

"Yeah. . . Just a letter." 

"Mmkay. . . How 'bout a picture?"

His tone was warm and flattered. "Oh I can throw in a pic. But it's not gonna be the kind ya *really* want."

"Booo," you pouted.

'Think you'll like it anyway."

"Yeah, I can fill in the rest." 

Your time was up. 

—-------

You went back to your cell and sighed as you sat down on your bed. Mabel started to leave but you said, "no, you're good." You'd rub one out later. You wanted to ask Mabel if he really liked you, but you wouldn't let yourself be vulnerable like that. You were still trying to detach.  

"You're right, he's cool," you said. 

 "You like him, don't ya?" 

“He likes you, too.”  

She reached under her mattress into the fitted sheet and got out her poke and stick supplies. “C’mere, let's just get it over with,” she said. 

“What, uh, what do you wanna give me?”

"J. . . O. . ." 

Your whole upper body heated up and you laughed under your breath, "Mabel." She was mostly kidding. 

—-----------

Visitation day came and you weren't nervous, just excited. He was wearing a too-small, black softwash t-shirt, black jeans, and a chain.

“Be good,” the guard warned Joel as you picked up the phone on your side. 

"Yes, officer,” Joel replied with a respectful nod, then sat down. You noticed his rings as he picked up his phone. “We gotta be good,” he said with a wink.  

“So be good,” you told him vacantly as your eyes roamed his tattoos. 

He stared at you for a few seconds, hungrily taking in the mundane sight of you in your garb. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. 

“How’d ya get hotter? Chicks don’t get hotter in lock-up, much less in a week.” 

“What, and men do? It’s in your head.”

“Well yeah, we work out like mad.” 

“Guess you’ve got me there.” 

“Not talkin’ 'bout your body. It’s bangin’, but, I mean–no makeup and you’re pretty as hell.” 

You smiled and shrugged, "thanks," then whispered, "but I think you're just horny," with a wink.  He returned the shrug. 

A few seconds of silence passed as he checked you out. You salivated over his arms stretching his shirt. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “Whatcha thinkin about?”

“I’m thinkin’ ya look like a slutty bouncer,” you laughed. “You get this shit at Spirit Halloween?”

Joel chuckled. “Well . . . you know what *I’m* thinkin’ about.” His eyes glued to your chest. 

Yeah, yeah, he’s gotta see what’s under that garb. “Yeah, you’ll see it, honey," you said. 

It was a struggle knowing what to say–you wanted to “be good” and not get cut short, but you also wanted to indulge in your fantasies. 

Joel asked, “Where ya wanna go when ya get out?”

“Anywhere. Got some place in mind?”

“Could take ya to my place. Mabel taught me a mean pot roast recipe.” 

You smiled. “You’re makin' me hungry.”

“Oh I’m starvin’, baby.”

"Long drive?"

He exhaled with a puff of his cheeks. "It’ll feel long that day."

“I’m sure it will,” you purred, looking down as if you could see through the booth right to his cock. You wet your lips. “So what’s between here and home?”

He took a deep breath, thought for a second, and told you what highway it was. 

“Oh, okay,” you nodded. “There’s a seven eleven right outside the gate here. 

“There sure is," Joel nodded. "Clean bathrooms too. I checked on my way.”

“You did not.” 

“I’m tellin’ ya," he nodded. "Stopped for gas. First thing I thought about. Swear I think about it as much as you do.” 

“So what’s in the bathroom?”

“Steel handicap railing about hip height”

You raised your eyebrows, intrigued.

“Pretty sturdy to hold onto, or even sit on.” He looked over his shoulder “Like if someone needed a rest or whatever.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Right," you said softly as you nodded. 

"Diaper changin' thingy, too."

You scrunched your face up. 

"Like if ya needed to bend over it and stretch your back.” 

"Ah," you nodded. "Nah."

“Parking lot?”

“That close to here, it’s gotta be crawling with pigs.” 

“Right,” he said in a trance, looking at your mouth. 

“Alright, where else is there," you asked. 

"Rest stop. They got picnic tables near the woods if ya need to, uh," he looked down, "Sit down," he said quieter, "n' take a rest." 

"Oh, I won't want a rest." You slowly shook your head and your eyes lingered on his chain. 

He groaned softly and rested his chin in his hand. He whispered, "You're killin' me here." He scratched his beard and you tingled at the sight of the silver patches, his pinky ring, his hand tattoos–the faded barbed wire.  You sighed. 

"You bein' good?" He asked. 

"Yeah." You resigned yourself to harmless small talk for a few minutes, but it was obvious what you both were thinking about.  There were long silences where you just stared at each other.  

“Just a few more weeks and I’m yours,” you teased. 

His eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows. “You serious?”

Oh, shit - you didn’t wanna scare him off.  Really didn’t even mean it like that, but, you also didn’t mind the thought of him as a boyfriend. 

You nodded and teased, “yours to do what you please.”

He blew out a puff of air. "God damn, baby. I don't think you know what’s comin’ your way.”

“Can’t wait to find out, though.”

“Oh, you’re gonna find out.”  He dug his hand into his lap but didn’t move it. “Shit.”

“Sorry.”

“Never be sorry.”

The guard barked,”Hands where I can see’em,” and Joel obediently raised his hand and put both elbows on the table again. 

"You ain't gonna want anyone else again." 

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness which actually turned you on. 

"Don't say I didn't warn ya," he cautioned. 

"Okay," you shrugged with a contemplative frown. 

"Shit, I might be in the same boat." He swallowed and looked like he meant it. Like maybe you were doing something to him that hadn't been done.

"You get my letter yet?" Joel asked. 

"No." 

He smirked, then it faded as he checked you out for the hundredth time. He shook his head, sat back, and took a deep breath.  "This is fuckin' torture." 

"Then it's a good thing I waited til now to ask about ya." 

"the best torture," he clarified, his forehead beginning to glisten. "I'm gonna fuckin explode when I get back to my ride."  He looked at the unopened box of tissues on his side of the booth, intended for crying visitors. "Thank God I didn't ride the hog." Fuck, he had a motorcycle, too? He held the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder while he opened the plastic on the box and tried to get the tissues started. Then he took three tissues out.  Your breath hitched at the thought of his cum. Was it silky? Stringy? Watery? Sticky? What'd it taste like? Ugh. 

"HANDS," the guard said when he saw Joel finish pocketing the tissues. The guard stepped forward. "Say goodbye, let's go."

"Fuck." Joel sighed and closed his eyes. "Sorry, jailbird." 

When he stood up, you could see the outline of his hard dick on his thigh. You took a deep breath and pried your eyes off his crotch to briefly meet his eyes. He winked and you managed a small smile before eyes fell right back to his jeans as he adjusted himself. Fuck. 

—---------------

Joel’s letter came a couple days later. A photo fell out of it. Black and white. He was sitting in a chair and smoking with one hand holding the cigarette up and his other hand resting between his legs.  Arms blazing in a white t-shirt. Squinting at the camera. He looked hot as hell despite having all his clothes on. He looked like a model. 

The letter was on plain white printer paper, and the letter was short: 

Be good, jailbird. I'll take ya anywhere. 

Sweet, and also sexy. God, you wanted him to take you. 

You flattened out the letter and admired his poor but legible handwriting. Not as bad as some you'd seen. His handwriting was hot.  It was cute that he didn't use any special stationary.  He was a simple man. And God, what a man. You ran your fingers over the words,  and they caught on a different texture.  Something on the paper.  You smelled it and it wasn't cum. It was, like, lotion or Vaseline. 

Wait. You held it up, and your breath hitched. 

You looked behind you to make sure no one was watching, then you stood up, got closer to the light, and held it at an angle. Holy shit. It was his dick print, diagonal across the paper.  A bolt of desire shot through your body.  It was transparent but the different texture was visible. You could see the head, then most of the shaft. It was detailed, there was texture. Even a couple of veins. 

You sat on your bed, leaning against the wall with your knees up.  You rested the paper against your knees at an angle with the tip pointed between your legs.  You just wanted to get a sense of the size–and boy did you–but the sight of it, God. Just the silhouette of it lined up right there made you feral. You needed it so bad.  Needed him.  Who the hell mails a dick print? Fuckin’ Jojo, he was gonna be the death of you.

-----

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! Your engagement really keeps me going, I love y'all.

This AU is due to @beskarandblasters and @wannab-urs and their hilarious list of new joel tropes. But I played myself because he's actually hot and I want him?

Notes

The slapping sound after he came was him letting his cock slap onto the paper.

There are a lot of correctional facilities where they wouldn't get away with all this so you gotta suspend disbelief.

-----

I hear tags aren't working for some people. Please consider following @toxicfics and subscribing to notifications. Must have tumblr push notifications enabled on your phone.

-----

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret

[aurorawritestoescape]

I LOVE THEM!!!😍😍😍🥵🥵🥵♥️♥️♥️

HIS LOOK🔥🔥🔥 HER LOOK 🔥🔥🔥 THE SMUT🔥🔥🔥the FEELINGS!!!❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

it’s hot as balls and what makes me so so happy is the way they’re so down bad for each other!!! We saw the beginning of their relationship, rooted for them and waited for them to finally bang and it’s so satisfying to read about their life together, its progression, seeing their deep affection for each other!!! His words at the end🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 Raider has dark fluff, is this horny fluff?😅 Thank you for the story!🫶🫶🫶💖💖💖

busted (jailbird one shot)

2.5k WORDS, JOEL "JOJO" MILLER x f!READER SUMMARY: You roleplay as cop and sex worker. WARNINGS: I8+, no plot just smut, roleplay, manhandling, handcuffs, bj, unsafe PIV, creampie, fluff. writer chooses not to warn in further detail, read at your own risk. Read alone or see jailbird masterlist for relationship & reader history. NOTES: On hiatus, but this has been in my tumblr drafts since 3/20. Ty for the ask. They've both served time. This happens while Joel's aunt/your former cellmate is still locked up. Ty again to everyone who made me write cellmate's nephew (history) 💀. Divider by @saradika-graphics. @toxicfics for notifications.

Masterlist | Blog FAQs

You sit on Joel’s bed alone, wearing a short skirt, a lace bra, and fishnet stockings he already ripped wide open the last time you wore them. You finish lacing up your boots, tuck a wad of cash into your bra, and get a tictac mint from your purse. Then you put on the bag and close the bedroom door behind you as you leave. 

As you walk into the living room, the front door opens. You realize you’re holding your breath and feel silly. Your heart skips a beat when he steps through the door. 

He pauses long enough for you to take in his whole form. . .tattooed arms swelling out from the sleeves of his slutty, blue uniform. Your eyes fall to his crotch as he turns to face you. The tight polyester pants leave little to the imagination. The whole, massive outline is visible atop his thigh, straining the fabric. He smooths his mustache and tilts his head, checking you out. Then he keeps a straight face as he steps toward you and says,

“‘S’cuse me, miss. Can I see some ID?”

Your heart flutters. You’ve played the part so many times. Played lots of parts. You're used to being who the client needs. But here you are with a little stage fright in front of your boo. And Jesus Christ, there’s something about his prison tattoos bursting out of that uniform. 

You stand still in the middle of the room and he slowly paces around you. A few feet away, but close enough to smell the cigarette he must have enjoyed outside and the cologne he reserves for date nights. The sight and smell of him makes you tingle. His touch might make you physically swoon. He clears his throat, and your face heats up. You lock eyes with him, and there’s a sparkle in his gaze, but he manages to hold firm, not breaking. 

“I, um – I have it somewhere.” You rifle through your bag.

“What’s that in your brassiere, ma’am?” He takes a baton off his hip and gestures to your bra cup. Your chest is lightly dusted in a caramel flavored shimmer powder.  

“Oh,” you stammer, looking away.  “I dunno why I put this here when I have a purse,” you mutter, half out of character.

“Just what I was thinkin’,” he cocks an eyebrow at you. He begins to stalk around you again, getting a little closer with each step, closing in on you. Then, he holsters his baton and stands behind your back, close enough to feel his body heat. You turn your face to the side and his scent wraps around you. 

His hardness lightly grazes you, and you push your ass back instinctively. His left hand comes to your hip as his right hand snakes around your torso.  His voice is deep and gruff.

“I’m thinkin’ this is dirty money.”

He trails his fingers slowly up your sternum, then over the curve of your left breast to your black push-up bra. You watch the faded barbed wire flex on his hand as he slides two fingers into the bra cup, retrieving the cash. He lowers his volume and his lips brush the shell of our ear. “Real dirty, honey.” 

“It’s nothing,” you shake your head, getting into a better rhythm. 

“Lemme take this off your hands,” he offers and lifts the strap of your purse off your shoulder. He stuffs the cash in it and tosses the purse to Mabel’s easychair. The tictacs rattle as it lands. He returns behind you, and this time, both hands go to your hips.

“I’m thinkin’ we can work somethin’ out,” he murmurs. His hands meander up your sides, then back down. He holds onto your hips and pulls you back against him, lightly grinding his hard length against your skirt, making you throb. 

“Fuck, Jo,” you whine in a whisper, pushing back on him like you shouldn't be. He exhales what you're pretty sure is a laugh. You can picture his smile. You're not ready to throw in the towel on this scene. You compose yourself and ask, “What are you doing?” You step forward, away from him, then turn around with a glare. 

He slowly rubs his arousal and adjusts himself. Then he puts his hands on his hips and shifts his weight. He looks you up and down, slowly shakes his head, and clucks his tongue.  

“Y’know, I didn’t wanna have to do this.”  He reaches behind his back for his cuffs, and you head for the door. 

He grabs you by the arm, and you continue to pull away. 

“No,” you protest emptily, tingling at the thought of him getting rougher.

He wraps a strong arm around you and you keep squirming. He lets you pull away toward the door until you’re up against it. He presses his weight against you with a forearm on your upper back and warns, “Resisting arrest?” 

He wrangles your arms behind your back, and the cold metal edge makes you shiver as your first wrist is cuffed. The second cuff clicks into place and he tightens them. Your cuffed hands desperately feel around the front of his pants, and he shifts his hips to help you find what you're looking for. You softly moan when your palm meets the hard length in his pants. 

“So now ya wanna be good,” he taunts, then lets out a barely audible grunt, pressing his hips forward, arousal swelling against your palm.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, officer.” He takes your hands and puts them on your mid back, and you keep them there. He yanks the whole skirt up over your ass in one go, watching your ass drop, fishnet diamonds stretched over it. His hips push forward and his hardness makes you throb. 

“Spread’em,” he commands. 

You widen your stance. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then wedges a hand between you and the door. Your palms rest on his tummy as he shoves his hand between your legs and feels how wet you are through the pre-ruined fishnets. 

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he growls, then cruelly takes his hand away without so much as putting half a finger in you. 

He grabs you by one arm and pulls you over to the sofa. “Knees,” he murmurs, and helps you down onto the carpet. He pats your head then sits down on the sofa with a sigh, manspreading. He splays his arms out on the back of the couch and looks at you affectionately for a moment before his face hardens again. He takes off his fake utility belt in a hurry. 

“Got five minutes to convince me not to take ya in,” he warns, "If ya can handle it." He lifts his hips, giving you a rush of arousal. He pulls at his uniform pants, and they snap open at the side. This must have been quite a hit all those years ago on stage. For you, he's not wearing anything under them. You glance at his hip tattoo. Yeah.

He frees his massive cock and wraps his hand around the clean shaven base. He squeezes it as he looks at you darkly. "Such a bad girl." He scoots toward the edge of the sofa. Your hands are still handcuffed behind your back, skirt still sitting up above your ass.

You lean forward, dip your head, and he feeds you his cock. You slurp the fat head into your mouth and he sighs, watching you with a softening scowl. "Fuck yeah," he breathes. His knees bracket you and help you balance with no use of your hands as you bob your head. He moans as you suck him. You stretch your jaw, sucking at the smooth, salty tip, then take a few inches into your mouth and hold it, feeling him throb. "God damn," he curses softly. You suck with the back of your throat and carefully take as much as you can, expertly swallowing his length. You take him so deep that your lips brush his shaved pubic skin, and your eyes prickle with tears.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Get up here.” 

You slowly let his cock out of your mouth, and a string of slobber falls away with it.

He grabs your arms and helps you stand. He could stand to be rougher about it. But he's all but abandoning character, overtaken by the way you make him feel. The real you.

He helps you balance as you kneel onto the sofa, straddling him with your thighs spread wide. His breaths are heavy and getting heavier as he eyes your tits and the front closure of your bra. 

He sits up straight. He wraps an arm around you and interlaces his fingers with one of your cuffed hands. "Doin' so good, baby." With his other hand, he swiftly unhooks the front clasp of your bra, and the cups break apart, letting your tits fall out.  He takes a nipple into his mouth, then passionately licks and kisses his way up to your mouth. He palms one breast as he sucks the other and holds your hand behind your back. He pulls you right against him so your clit presses against his warm, hard cock and it makes him moan against your breast as he throbs against you.

He moves you, grinding his cock on your clit. He kisses your breast again, then drags his nose up your chest and feverishy kisses you everywhere on his way to your neck, where he sucks you long and slow. He lets go of your hand and slides his hand down, reaching under your ass to your cunt, where he slides his fingers through your slick then spreads you open for him.

He maneuvers you up to get clearance for his cock. He runs the tip through your slick, then massages your clit with it before notching at your entrance. You twitch at the contact, then begin to sink onto him and he pulls you down with a grunt.

"That's my girl," he breathes.

His lips find yours, and the kiss is long and slow with him seated fully inside you. He moves you on his cock, and his hips roll under you at a slow rhythm, stretching you with his girth, making you twitch already. You break the kiss with a moan.

You look down between your bodies, then purr, “is it hot in here, officer?” 

“God you're fuckin’ hot,” he gushes with urgency.  He reaches in his shirt pocket for the key to the handcuffs and wraps his arms around you. His cock twitches and he fumbles around as he uncuffs you. You rip open his snap button uniform top, then cradle his face and your lips smash back together and his tongue finds yours. He pulls you close. Your tits press into his chest and you moan into his mouth as you roll your hips.

You sigh and curse and moan against each other's mouths as you ride him.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “I coulda came soon as ya—fuck–the way you were clawin’ around for my cock just to feel it—ohhhh.”

He playfully plucks at the fishnets then kneads your ass as you fuck. He lets you take the lead, sliding his hands down to your legs, then your boots. He sighs, "Ohh, baby," as you ride him.

“Yeah,” you breathe, feeling sharply on the edge already, with his cock inside you and the ghost of it pressed up against you through those pants. 

“Ohh, fuck,” he pants, “yeah.” His flesh fills yours so perfectly, stretching you around him. Your body wetly hugs his length as he smoothly thrusts up into you. He growls into your neck, “I can't get enough’a ya.” You card your fingers through his hair. 

“God you feel good,” you gush. “So fucking good. He’s kissing your neck wet and sloppy now. You both breathe audibly. "God, I love this cock," you pant. Your breath is shallow with your pending peak. You grind against him, then let it overtake you. “Fuck,” you breathe as your walls flutter around him. 

He groans as you come on his cock.  As you finish your peak, he’s clearly holding back. You look down at his inked torso glistening. 

You both watch where your bodies meet, and you tell him, “i want you to come.”

“c'mere” he takes your jaw in one hand, and brings your lips back to his. He holds you tight, kissing you for a few thrusts, then his lips fall apart to moan and breathe vocally as he fucks you.

He pulses inside, pinching his eyes shut. He groans into your cheek, and you finger his curls as he pumps you full. Then you relax into his arms.

-

You share a long moment without words, and he holds your head. Then he uses his chest to push you slightly off him. He looks you in the eyes, then does a double take down to your tits and dips his head to kiss one before returning his attention to your face. 

You're still on his cock, and the stretch persists even as he slowly softens.

He looks back and forth between your eyes and blurts out, “you should move in.” 

You laugh in shock. 

“‘m’serious, baby,” he says with a smile. You bite away another laugh and his smile fades. He whispers, “Dead serious.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, then breaks away to await your answer. 

You haven't thought about it, really. Not yet, anyway. But it doesn't feel out of the question. You glance over to Mabel’s chair. 

“She knows,” he assures you. It doesn't make a difference right now, but you pray she'll get paroled sooner rather than later. 

“Just think about it,” he offers. 

You nod and bite your lip, running your hand through his hair affectionately, still plugged by his cock. "Tempting," you smile.

“I'm a lucky man either way,” he says.

Your face heats up, and you reflexively lighten the conversation. “Why’d ya cuff me if ya wanted me on top,” you laugh.

“Hell if I know what I want,” he admits. He kisses your neck then murmurs, “Just want ya every which way all the time.”

thank you for reading, and thank you for your support. love you guys <333. my tag list is gone for real this time, sorry. I'm also on a break from writing & reading but had this in my drafts.

[xdaddysprincessxx]

THEY FUCKED!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GODDAMN I WANNA BE SMOTHERED AND COVERED IN JOJO!😫💦😭🥵🔥

This is probably one of my favorite smut scenes from you lol it’s just so amazing. It felt so real (if that makes sense, all your smut does but this one is like been there done that type vs like fantasy fuck. It’s 4am idk what I’m saying lmao) the desperation they both have for one another, but also everything feels so easy between them like neither has to force convo/awkward silence. I don’t know all I know is I loooovvvvveeeeee this so fucking much. I could bust I’m so happy they finally fucked. This is my Super Bowl. My Indy500 race. My crazy big event of the year.

Parole.

3k words, joel miller x f!reader

Jojo playlist, joel master list, @toxicfics for notifs

SUMMARY: PWP. You have one last dirty phone call, get out of jail, Jojo picks you up, and you bang on the way home. That’s it. 

WARNINGS: I8+, dirty talk, jacking off, groping while driving, oral F receiving, Unsafe P in V intercourse, semi-public (bathroom). Reader can sit on a sink. Unedited, fuck it we ball.

A/N: cellmate's nephew!Joel, part 3 of 3, follows Jailbird and Collect Calls but you just need to know his aunt Mabel is your cell mate. This is the last of Jailbird for the foreseeable future. It’s been a fun diversion.  This is not the last of Jojo.

—---

All goes well at your parole hearing. After you get your 72 Hour release notice, you call Joel. 

He answers the phone, "You're gettin' out," and you can hear his smile. 

"How did you–did Mabel tell you?"

"Had a feeling.  So what, 3 days now?" He opens and squirts the lube. 

"9pm Monday."

"You just made my dick so hard, baby."

"Jojo. . ."

"Hmm?"

"God, sorry - Joel"

"Call me whatever ya want, jailbird. Mm. Call me joel, call me jojo, call me, call me any time baby”

“Can’t wait to be on the other side of that glass.” 

"And I'm gonna pop that post-penny cherry" (post-penitentiary) 

“Shhh”

"What they're gonna un-parole ya 'cause there’s a hard dick waitin’ for ya?"

“Well, I like the sound of that,”  you purr. 

“Oh we’re gonna get nasty, baby,” he breathes. 

“Mmm”

“You wear thongs, g-strings, whatcha wear?” His fist slurps up and down his cock. 

“Thongs,” you tell him. “Boy shorts if I wanna be comfy.” 

“Damn. . . that ass in boy shorts?  Whew.” 

“How ‘bout you?”

“Boxer briefs.” 

“Mm, shoulda known. Those tight-ass pants”

“Yeah, ya like’em?”

“Like how ya wear’em”

“How’s that”

“Packing somethin’ fat and juicy for me.”

He moans. “Fuck yeah i am, just for you baby”

“Just for me?”

“‘S’all for you, baby. How ya want it first?”

“Honey, I just want it.”

“Can i come inside ya?”

“Mmmm, yeah. . .” 

“Fuck, i’m gonna pump you full,” his voice tells you he’s already close. 

“You better.” 

“Fuck yeah, baby.” His hand is moving faster. “Ohhh, fuck” He shudders and groans long and drawn out as he comes.

“Started without me didn’t ya” 

“Wouldn’t do that,” he says in a transparently false tone. 

“Hope ya can last longer than that,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he laughs. “Shit, maybe I can’t. ‘S’what ya do to me, baby.” 

“Then we’ll just have to do it again.”

“Oh I’m grocery shoppin’ like it’s the apocalypse. Won’t have to leave the house for a week.”

—------

Mabel gives you one last poke-and-stick tattoo, a heart on your other hand, mirroring the location of your "clover." The last thing she tells you is, “He’s snipped, ya know. I took care of him after he did it. ” 

“Nice.”

“Yeah, he knows he's not dad material," she explains, then lightens the mood with, "he's daddy, not dad," and a wink. 

You're gonna miss her. But if things go well with Joel, you’ll see her again in a few months. 

—----

Walking down the ramp from the tower toward the jail lobby, you can taste the freedom and almost forget what you’re wearing – booty skirt, platform heels, mesh crop top, fishnets. 

His posture is what catches your eye first. Feet spread, arms crossed. Your eyes fall to his bulge then pan up to a white t-shirt struggling to contain the tattooed arms crossed in front of him. Gold chain, Adam's Apple. As his face comes into focus, he tilts his head back and squints, pursing his lips in a pained expression as he looks at you. His expression is enough to remind you what you’re wearing. By the time you reach him, he’s biting his lip, shaking his head at you with his eyes smiling. 

He opens his arms and wraps around you for a full-body hug. He smells like fresh cologne, and he feels safe and comfortable.  He feels like – ohhh, yeah, he’s already getting hard. You’re holding a plastic bag of your belongings—phone and keys—against his back. 

“God damn,” he whispers into your hair and his pelvis subtly presses his growing arousal into you. He murmurs, “Mmm, let’s get the fuck outta here.” 

He grabs your hand and your shoes click as you walk through the sliding doors to the parking lot. As soon as the doors slide closed behind you, he drops your hand and grabs your ass.  His hand spans much more of your asscheek than you're used to. The beauty of the sky at dusk overwhelms you, even with the lights from the jail. 

“Let’s make it to the car,” you laugh. 

He puffs out his cheeks with an exhale and gets his keys out of his pocket with his free hand.  Then he points to a big truck and unlocks it. 

He opens the truck door for you and his hand on your ass helps you up into the seat. Oh the simple joy of getting in a vehicle. You start to grab the seatbelt, and he tells you, “nah, hold on a sec.” When he gets in the driver’s seat he slams up the center console, slides over and you turn to face him as he reaches you.  

He grabs the back of your head and pulls your face into his. His tongue parts your lips and his mouth is minty.  He sucks hard and gently chews your lips as he grabs your far thigh and puts it over his lap.  Then he grabs you by both hips and pulls you all the way into his lap with your help so you’re straddling him. When your crotch meets the warm steel rod in his pants, you whimper and he sighs vocally. Then your mouths connect again. You’ve been dying of thirst and he’s a tall glass of water; you just can’t get enough. 

His hands run down your fishnet thighs as you grind on him and make out. He playfully plucks one of the diamonds and murmurs in such a deep voice, “Thought ya weren’t wearin’ these, hmm?” Then he attacks your neck with his mouth, and you sigh.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see a Corrections Officer headed your way. 

“Shit,” you say, “We should go.” 

He groans. 

“They're comin’, we gotta go,” you repeat and pry yourself off of him. 

He takes a deep breath and his hips lift out of the seat as he adjusts himself, then scoots back over to the driver’s seat and buckles his seatbelt. You start to go back to the passenger seat and buckle yours, but he says, “get back over here.”  He hands you the middle seatbelt. 

—----

You tease, “we 'bout to peel outta here?”

"Buckle up, baby.” 

He puts his hand behind you to back up. A whiff of his sweat under the cologne makes you want him even worse. 

You awkwardly try to keep your hands to yourself. He’s the one driving, so you’ll let him initiate any distraction. "Where we headed?"

"How ‘bout we get ya some real food, ya hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat.” 

He gives a low whistle and says, “so could I, baby. can’t wait to taste ya." He looks at your legs. “Fuck.”  He puts his hand on your thigh. “Mmm.” His voice is so deep. “Been savin’ this just for me, huh?'' His wrist pushes your skirt out of the way as his hand slides toward your crotch.  He finds your clit with ease, even while driving. He clearly knows what he’s doing and he could get you off like this in a minute or two, but he needs his hand back to make some turns. 

You put your hand on his meaty thigh and ask “can I. . .”

“*can* you? Fuck yeah you can” He lifts his elbow, welcoming your hand to his lap. 

You grab the bulge in his jeans and get a zap of need in your core. You slowly press your hand into his warm, hard package and feel the outline of his thick cock.  You’re aching for him. You’re about to ask him to pull over when he puts on the blinker and see you’ve arrived at Waffle House. 

“Here good?” He says as he pulls into a parking space.  

“Hell yeah,” you answer. 

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Cause if you don’t like WaHo, we ain’t gonna work anyway.” You both unbuckle your seatbelts.

"Oh, here," you take your hand back as he reaches back behind the passenger seat, and your eyes glue to his huge bulge. He hands you a leather jacket, and says, “Just if ya want it.”  It’s a little warm for it, but it’s a nice thought if you wanted to cover up. At WaHo, you don’t really care. That’s the magic of it. He reaches back behind the seat again and returns with a target bag.

You peek into the bag. There’s a casual tank dress, flip flops, and . ..boy shorts. Your heart flutters that his dirty question led to such a wholesome gesture. 

“You bought me clothes?”

“Yeah, coulda brought some’a Mabel’s but–”

“That could get weird”

“Yeah.” 

—---

You walk in front of Jojo into the breezeway, then into the restaurant. No one bats an eye at how you’re dressed.  You hold up the bag of clothes and ask, “Mind if I change ‘fore we eat?” A waitress behind the counter leans to the side to look around you, checks Jojo out and says, “get it, girl.” 

“That’s what i’m talkin’ bout,” Jojo murmurs to you and gives her a wink. 

Both the individual bathrooms are occupied. Joel stands with his back against the wall facing the bathrooms, so y’all are waiting out of view of the grill. You’re facing him.  He grabs your ass with both hands, pulling you into him, massive erection straining his pants, yearning to get to you. His cock digs into your front.  You kiss him and he kneads your butt cheeks as your mouths consume each other. He moans quietly into your mouth.  His hard cock twitches against you. 

He breaks the kiss and breathes heavily against your ear, then whispers “feel like i’m gonna die.” 

A toilet flushes. The bathroom smells faintly of cleaning supplies, and it doesn’t look dirty. The illusion of cleanliness is enough to not think about it. 

You wanna be right on top of him, but as he locks the door, you find yourself slowly taking a step backwards, watching him in anticipation, almost like you’re daring him to come after you and show you what he’s got.�� He looks at you darkly and prowls toward you, unbuckling his belt, lips parted, eyes dark like a stalking animal.  You freeze. He unbuttons his jeans and walks until his hardness bumps into your thigh. 

Then, at a faster pace, he walks you almost all the way to the sink, then grabs your butt to stop you.  He hikes up your skirt so it's all the way over your ass. He grabs your ass with one hand and pulls you into him again. The strength of his erection through his exposed boxer briefs gives you another shock of arousal on top of your already desperate need. He pulls back his hips enough for his free hand to engulf your crotch.  His thick middle finger presses down on the (very) damp spot in your leggings. 

"Soaked for me, aren't ya?" The hand on your ass slides down and curls between your legs. His warm finger slips into one of the fishnet holes. 

He uses both hands, one from the front and one from the back, to rip open the fishnets. “Fuck yeah,” he growls. The hand from the back returns to your asscheek, while the other hand remains between your legs.  The side of his index finger meets your dripping seam. “Mmmmmm,” he slides his hand up and down for just a couple of seconds, then looks at the sink. “Think ya can sit up here?”

“mm. yeah, if you–”

He helps you onto the edge of the sink. You hold onto the sides and he immediately squats down with his head between your legs. 

“Just fuck me,” you say, dying to have him inside you. Your walls are twitching as though your cunt is making a gimme gimme motion like a fist.

“i gotta taste ya," he mumbles as he spreads your thighs.  “Sorry, just a sec.” He further rips the fishnets, exposing you to the cool air then sighs, “fuck,” as he reaches behind you to hold your ass. He whispers “just real quick,” his hot breath on your mound, before he plants his mouth on your cunt. 

He licks at your entrance.  “Mmmm,” he tongues and sucks your clit, then takes one hand off your ass to palm his boxer briefs. 

You fist his hair, sighing, “Ohh God, I need that cock, baby. We got time for this later.” You’re physically aching to be filled. 

He kisses your clit goodbye, then whispers, "god damn."  He puts both hands on your thighs as he stands up.  When he’s standing, he yanks his boxer briefs down and his naked cock bobs heavily, making you nearly drool. He’s shaved. It’s thick. Length-wise you might be able to take it. The girth will be a stretch. 

He curls his fingers under your mesh crop top and you raise your arms as he discards it. “Fuck it, you’re changin’, right?” He tugs at your bra, and you take it off. 

“Oh, fuck me,” he takes in the sight of your tits and can’t resist sucking a nipple into his mouth while palming the other. 

You grab his cock. “Are you gonna put this in me tonight or nah?”

“God damn, you need it don’t ya?” He wraps an arm around you  and you put your arms around his neck. He nudges you by the ass toward the edge.

“fuck just give it to me.” 

He runs his swollen, mauve tip through your slick, then notches it at your entrance and plunges into you with a groan. You gasp as his girth spreads you apart. You can’t remember the last time you felt a stretch like this. But he pushes it right in. You’re so turned on, it works. You watch his cock disappear into you. You glance up at him to see his mouth hanging open with a sigh of relief as his tip nudges your cervix and makes you whole. He sucks in a deep breath as he retreats, then says “FUCK, that’s a nice cunt.” 

His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your ass and he begins to fuck you. You pull up his shirt and it’s so tight that it stays where you leave it. He has a slutty little hip tattoo that says yeah. His lips latch onto yours as he buries his length in you again and again.  It’s all sucking and biting and hot, humid breath as you moan against each other’s cheeks before your tongues are in each other’s mouths again. The bottom half of your face gets slobbery.  He fucks you like he means it, grunting and moaning, “oh yeah.” Your bodies are dewy where your skin meets. 

You wrap your legs around him. Your pelvis grinds against his and your orgasm is building. You tell him,  “Don’t hold back”

“You want me to last?” He asks as he pumps in and out of you. 

“In here?--ohhhh–time for that later” 

“Oh, you already close, ain’t ya?” he speeds up. “Fuck yeah, baby, c’mere, c’,mon” His cock pistons into you. It’s even better than you imagined so many times in your pathetic excuse for a bed. Oh shit, will you really sleep together? The thought of it melts you. The thought of a real bed alone melts you, but with him, with this cock inches away, god this cock, it feels so, it’s so—A primal grunt comes from his chest. His heavy breathing and grinding against your clit have you on the edge ready to tip. 

You whimper, “baby,” pinching your eyes shut. 

He grips your ass harder and grinds his shaved pubic bone into you as he fucks you smooth and fast. He fucks like a porn star. “C’mon, jailbird.” 

He buries his length in you even faster, then pleasure seizes your whole body and you come on his fat cock. 

“Ohhhhh yeah, fuck yeah,” he breathes. 

He thrusts into you a few more times, “fuck, baby,” then bottoms out and erupts. He sighs a long sigh as his warm release coats your insides. 

“Mmmm,” you savor the pulse of his cock and you twitch with aftershocks. “Oh, god.” He hugs you and you rest your head on his chest while you both catch your breath. 

Someone finally knocks on the door.  He pulls out and helps you down off the sink. 

“Someone in here,” he tells them. He pulls up his pants, then leans against the tile of the bathroom wall as he zips them up and fastens his belt while you change. 

You thank him again for the clothes as you look in the mirror and turn around. 

“Look good on ya. Guess I did alright.” 

His face is flushed pink and his hair is a little messed up.  He seems to notice you looking at his face and he pushes himself off the wall to look in the mirror. He rakes his hand through his hair, then scratches one side of his beard, turning away from the mirror. 

–

You sit down for a late dinner. Neither of you look at the menu. Jojo orders cherry coke and a texas cheesesteak with double hashbrowns covered, smothered, and chunked. You order your favorite meal and he compliments it. Your eyes are on his forearms and tattoos. As he brings the sandwich to his mouth. God damn, how’d this fine ass man practically fall in  your lap? You feel like  you owe Mabel big time. 

You ask, “You really go grocery shoppin’?”

He raises his eyebrows and smiles with his mouth full, nodding.  “Mmm-hmm.” After he finishes chewing he washes it down with a sip of cherry coke, then adds, “but you know what i really want.” He looks at you darkly. “So tell me it’s all you can eat, baby.” 

“Just for you, Jojo. . .”

-----

yeah he wants to be covered and smothered in that.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I love your passion and your comments and reblogs really motivate me. <333

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