#PPCU jacks off

[toxicanonymity]

thoughts

1.6k / joel miller x virgin!reader / master

sequel to Aches but can read alone. Next: Needs. Series masterlist. WARNINGS: I8+ mdni, big girthy age gap (20/50s) only one sleeping bag, pining, fingering, grinding, jacking off, hand job, mutual masturbation, innocence, pet names. No use of y/n.

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

“You don’t have to do it for me,” you whisper.  

The problem is, the more Joel relieves you, the more often you seem to ache.  The more you think about him and his body - his body pressed against yours, wrapped around yours.  Inside yours - It’s what you think about all day, every day now.  It’s getting really bad.  It’s hard to keep eye contact sometimes.  

-

Earlier, you were both rummaging through an abandoned convenience store. Joel walked up and asked, “Find anything ya like?”  You turned around and your eyes instantly fell on his tight jeans.  He followed your gaze down, then slowly stepped toward you.  “Hmm?” he prompted you.  

You stammered, “Sorry. What?”  

He smiled to himself.  “See anything ya like?” 

“I, uh-”  

“In the store, honey.”  He briefly glanced around the building.  “Find anything good?” 

“Oh.  No, I guess not.” Your whole face was hot.  

He cupped your burning cheek and his brow furrowed as he asked, “You okay, sweetie? You’re warm.” 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered with your eyes drowning in his.  A pool was forming in your panties and his touch on your face made you throb between the legs.  It was that moment you realized how out of control your desires were getting.  It was a constant distraction. 

-

Now you’re huddled in his sleeping bag as usual.  Joel is spooning you with his hard dick pressed against you.  Your top leg is back slightly behind you, between his legs, to make room for his hand between your thighs. He’s two knuckles deep and you’re already close to falling apart. He’s been helping you for a couple of weeks now, and it gets easier and easier to let yourself come. 

“Course I don’t have to,” he says and pushes another finger into you.  You inhale a chest full of air as he pushes his digits to the hilt and curls them.  Your hips lift into his hand which was already soaked with your arousal before he inserted a single digit.  “Why? Want me to stop?” Your clit rubs against his slick palm as he expertly works his fingers. 

“No,” you whisper. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“Good,” he murmurs, moving his fingers rhythmically as you grind into his hand.  Then he whispers in your ear,  “Cause I kinda like doin’ it.”  

You moan softly. 

“Ya know,” he says softly, “You might like helpin’ me, too.”  

You’ve thought so much about his cock.  You’ve felt it pressed hard against you so many times through his boxers and your panties.  You’ve never touched it though, not with your hands.  You haven’t felt the skin, except one time when it was accidentally peeking through his boxers and the tip touched your lower back, making a wet spot on your shirt.  When you flinched, he apologized. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Maybe.” 

“Why don’t we find out,” he murmurs. “try just a few seconds?”

You swallow, ashamed of your eagerness for anything involving his cock.  “Okay,” you say hesitantly.  

“Good girl.”  He takes his hand away from between your legs for just long enough to free his aching manhood from his boxers and lube it with your slick. “Gimme your hand, sweetie.”  

“I dunno how or anything,” you tell him. You clench your thighs together, still in need of relief.  You’re not sure if you’ve ever ached this badly.  

“That’s okay.  Don’t gotta do anything.” 

You slowly reach back, offering him your hand as you crane your neck to look to his eyes for reassurance.  It’s too dark to see, but you can still feel what his warm eyes would look like. 

“Think you’re gonna like this. But if ya don’t, ya don’t have to, okay?” He wraps your hand around his cock upside down. “Yeah,” he whispers.  “Just kinda hold it. That’s all ya gotta do.” His breathing is heavier with your hand touching his stiff cock. It’s larger than you thought it would be.  You always imagined you’d easily be able to wrap your hand around one.  

Joel thrusts into your slick hand and you feel a stab of need.

“How’s that?” he asks, thrusting slowly into your hand again with a barely audible grunt. 

“Good,” you whisper, holding your hand behind you. The skin of his shaft is so smooth. Now more than ever, you’re aching to be filled.  

“Attagirl,” he murmurs.  “Still want my help, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.  

“Good girl.” He reaches his arm over yours and slides his hand between your legs again. He softly groans when he feels how much wetter you are than you were just a minute ago.  All this, just from touching his cock.  “God damn,” he whispers. 

“What?”

“Nothin', baby.”  

It would be hard to say what you prefer - having his cock thrust into your hand or against your body. But finally feeling it naked, feeling its shape, the softness of the skin, the impossible firmness of the erection – it takes your breath away.  He slides two fingers into your cunt and pumps them at the same slow rhythm he’s thrusting into your hand. 

Your pleasure builds rapidly, and you badly need release. “Doin’ great, baby,” he says in a deep, gruff whisper. “Just perfect.” He gradually increases the pace,  moving his fingers and cock in unison.  His cock fills your hand as his fingers fill your dripping cunt.  You’re keenly aware of what you’d rather be filled with.  

He softly grunts into your hair.  “Ohh, yeah,” he sighs as he thrusts into your hand and pumps his fingers.

You whimper at the edge of your climax, your upper back pressing into his chest and your hips grinding desperately into his large hand as his fingers fuck you. Your whole body tenses. 

He talks you through it soothingly as usual, lips planted near your ear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, “you’re there, I got ya.”  Your hips push desperately into the palm of his hand, and his hand pushes back just right.  You whine his name as your core finds its stuttering release. The pleasure is more explosive than ever.  

“Good girl,” he whispers.  You recover for a few seconds, then turn around to face him.  He quickly folds down the unzipped sleeping bag for more space and rolls onto his back.  “You wanna keep helpin’?”

You nod and whisper, “yeah.” Then you add “Am I doing okay?” 

“'Course you are, baby. Get your hand wet between your legs now,” he says, which embarrasses you.  

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of, remember?” 

You take his cock in  your hand again and he covers it with his, showing you how tight to grip it and how to stroke it over the head. 

“Good girl.” 

-

Once you’ve got the hang of it, he asks, “You like helpin’ me?” 

You nod as you keep stroking his cock.  

Joel says, “Mmm hmm,” and looks at you curiously.  “Why’d ya say I don’t have to help?” His breathing is still heavy, but he’s trying to control it as you talk. 

You open your mouth but hesitate to answer. Instead, you stare down into the darkness, imagining what his cock must look like based on all the details that are gliding in and out of your hand.  He’s soooo hard.  

“You can tell me anything, pretty girl.”  He takes a deep breath. “We figure stuff out together, remember?” He breathes again. “Always do.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, then you swallow. “I dunno how to say it,” you admit.  

“Do your best,” he says. 

“Since you’ve been helping me, I’ve been feeling it more often.”

“You have?” he asks. “Like how?” His hips subtly move as you keep stroking his cock. 

“Like during the day.  Randomly.” 

“That’s okay, baby.” 

“But it aches, and it’s distracting.” 

“Distracting?”  His voice becomes more strained. 

“I have a lot of thoughts all the time.” 

“What kinda thoughts, baby?”  His voice has a sense of urgency. 

“About you.” 

He moans softly. “Uh-huh. Like what?” 

“Um-”

“Tell me anything, baby,” he quickly reassures you, nearly out of breath.   

“About this,” you whisper. You pause to give his cock a squeeze to make sure he knows that’s what you’re talking about.  “Yeah, about this.” Then you continue stroking.  

“Ohh baby,” he exhales. “Course ya do.” 

“All the time,” you whisper. 

“And what about it?”  he pants.  

“I’m not sure,” you mutter.  

“Thinkin’ ‘bout me bein’ inside you?” he asks, still panting.  He moans softly.  

“Yeah,” you whisper. 

“Ohhhhhh, God,” he sighs as he begins to pulse into your hand. “God damn, baby,” he breathes as he releases his last hot, sticky rope into your fist.   

-

Joel catches his breath, then says, “'Course ya have those thoughts, sweetie. I have the same thoughts. Everyone does."  

“You do?” 

“It’s normal,.  They teach biology in FEDRA school right?” 

“Yeah.”

“It’s biology, honey.  Our bodies feel things for each other.  They wanna be together in the way they’re meant to.  It’s how we work -  Nothin’ but science.” 

You’re not sure how that’s supposed to help you.  

He reaches for his backpack and grabs some paper to wipe off your hand and his stomach. 

“So what do I do about it?” you ask him. 

He’s quiet for a few seconds.  "Let’s think about it, honey.  We’ll figure it out together.” 

“Okay.” 

“We’ll figure it out, sweetie.  We always do.” 

“Yeah.” 

He wraps himself around you and kisses your head, then you say good night.  You think about what he said so matter of factly.  The thought of it excites you but also scares you.  Especially now that you’ve felt how big he is with your hand for scale. 

🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤

Thank you so much for reading and engaging.  Love you guys <33

if you like this, please check out my dbf x innocent virgin! reader fic Left in Lincoln (dbf x virgin) which has been ongoing since April. Read warnings. Also, my master list has a virginity section on it.

You can subscribe to @toxicfics for notifications and @toxicrecs for my fic recs.

-

[toxicanonymity]

Stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel stepdad!joel 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

Amazon 📦

2700, stepdad!Joel x f!reader. Stepdad Master List

New: BONUS SNAPCHATS, and one more (what if)

Ty for always ID-ing stepdad in the wild @gracieispunk including this pic ILYSM!!

SUMMARY: You give Joel the cold shoulder. He's sad and horny and finds a way to get your attention with a gift. He snapchats you a lot. A/N: Shout-out to @scratchietella (cum ask). WARNINGS: I8+, POV alternates twice, jacking off, stepcest, degradation, angst, reflection on cheating, a bit of whump and a hint of reader dacryphilia. Joel comes a lot (7x or so?), and I spelled it the short way for disambiguation.  NO use of Y/N. 

After you let Joel give you head, he thinks he’s back in your good graces despite cheating with your mom. But as soon as Joel leaves your room, you must be putting on your clothes. Because within less than a minute, you call Jacques on your way downstairs-–in earshot–to apologize on Joel's behalf for rushing him out.  

Joel follows you downstairs, but your Mom is on her way in.  You go out the front door, and when your Mom walks in from the garage, Joel is standing at the kitchen with his hair all messed up from running his hands through it in distress.  He doesn’t know if you’re going to Jacques’s, back to your apartment, or out, but he doesn’t like it. Joel knows he has no right to tell you anything, but that doesn’t stop him from calling you.  You don’t answer.  

Your Mom isn’t home for long.  She goes right back out, at which point Joel goes straight to his dresser to retrieve both pairs of your panties: The pair you gagged him with after he gave you a ride home, and the pair you stuffed in his pocket in the kitchen on Thanksgiving. The ones from the car are already ruined by his own cum, but the ones from Thanksgiving are all you. 

Joel lies on the bed and lubes up his cock, still hard from eating you out.  He puts on his glasses and looks at the screenshots he took of you before he knew Snapchat was telling on him. He whimpers as he strokes himself.

After a minute of looking at your scandalous photos, he feels pathetic for clinging to such a tiny morsel of you when he needs it all. He tosses his phone aside, closes his eyes, and smothers his face with your panties as he strokes himself.  He takes in deep breaths and he grunts and moans into them, and his hips involuntarily flex like his fist might as well be you. 

For the thousandth time, he imagines putting an end to his misery by just fucking your shit up.  Busting in your door, grabbing you by the throat slamming you against the wall.  Shoving his tongue down your throat and his hand between your legs. Tearing your clothes off as you whimper his name. Then taking you to bed, only so he can put you on your back and spread you wide open.

He'd memorize the folds of your dripping cunt as it twitches and begs for his tongue. Flip you over and shove himself in without warning, making you mewl as his girth splits you in two. Pounding you. Spanking you. Yeahh, just railing into your needy whore cunt as you whimper under him.  He sees your face screwing up as he cums inside you with a harsh grunt, finally giving you what you wanted all this time, a cunt full of his load.  

Cut to his own fist full of it on his bed. As he lies there breathing, the shame sets in. Not only the stepcest shame, but also the knowledge that he'd never have the balls to do any of that. It’s barely believable enough to get off to.  And then the guilt sets in – the guilt of what he did, how he fucked things up with you.  He feels guiltier about this than he felt for cheating on your Mom. He feels like he cheated on you. 

He puts away the evidence and washes his hands. Then he stares at your text convo. He has to figure out how to make things right. 

You don't respond to a single text or snap for the next week or so, and you don’t come back to the house either. Joel feels even more desperate. He’d do anything, if he only knew what might help.  He needs something to get your attention. He doesn’t sleep with your Mom, and your Mom doesn’t care. She doesn’t even bring it up. He’s pretty sure she’s having an affair anyway. Brazenly.  For her to confront Joel about his lack of interest would be to risk Joel confronting her about the affair. Joel isn't sure if it’s physical or just emotional, but it doesn’t matter much. He’s over it. 

Joel thinks about you at night and wonders if you think about him, too. He envisions what you might look like, thinking of him.  He imagines you with your spine arched, toy between your legs, closing your eyes, just soaking your sheets as you sigh his name. One night, he’s picturing this, really choking his cock.  He groans then sighs as he cums into his fist.  And then, when he’s recovering from his climax, that’s when it hits him.  How to get your attention. 

—---------

You’re lying on the couch watching TV.  You’re distracted.  Joel’s outreach has been ambiguous so far.  He hasn’t said anything about your mom. He hasn’t begged for pictures, much less for another chance. He’s only begged for forgiveness, over text.  You haven’t opened his snapchats because you don't want to be reminded about what he did.  You don’t want a serious talk or a lecture or god forbid details.  You don’t even want a sincere apology, unless it’s in the interest of fucking you.  

You get a notification that you have a package at the leasing office and sigh in exasperation that you have to make the trip there when it's probably not even yours. You aren't expecting anything, but sure enough, it has your name on it. 

It’s a vibrator.  Your heart races when you read the gift message. “Thinking of you. A lot. I’m sorry. J.” Unwanted butterflies swarm in your chest and you try to bat them away. He even included an extra pack of batteries.  How. . . thoughtful. Smart, too, because if it were rechargeable, you’d never plug it in.  It would feel like an admission of forgiveness. But since it’s battery-operated, you can just pull the battery tab as soon as you get horny. And of course you do. You lay on the sofa where you and Joel hooked up before and you take the toy for a spin. His ploy is working, you’re thinking of him, and you’re too horny to care.

You finally open his snapchats. They're a mix of horny and pathetic videos. They start off horny, just showing you a bulge in his pants or he's jacking off with your panties.  

Video: Then something non-sexual. A closeup where he’s just looking at you with messy hair, puppy dog eyes, and dark circles. “Talk to me. Yell at me, I don’t care. I'll take anything.” 

Video: Then horny. Palming himself over his joggers.  Whining your name in a whisper.  “Please.” His desperation turns you on. 

Video: A sad one the same night. He's sweating, looking like a little more of a mess, forehead glistening, catching his breath. "Don't throw this away." He breathes for a few more seconds.

Video: Another sad one another day where he doesn’t really say anything but his face says it all.  He looks awful, as if he’s not sleeping. Red eyelids, might have been crying.  He starts to say something, “I—” he takes a deep breath. Then he shakes his head, looks up and it cuts off. 

Video: A horny one that must have been the same night. He looks the same, but his reddened eyes look hungry. His lips are parted and he's taking in a shaky breath with his arm moving slowly off screen. "I just miss you." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He turns the camera down where his clothed erection sticking straight up in his joggers, just jutting into the air. His hand pushes it down and he slowly grabs it.

You leave his snaps on "seen," not even beginning to reply. Then a few minutes later he sends a new one.  A minute after that, another one.  You leave those unseen for the time being.

—------------

Joel sees you open the old snaps. That's progress, he thinks, and boldly assumes you open them when you’re horny. When he starts to second guess that assumption, he gets self conscious and thinks it might be for the better that you don’t open the last two snaps. They might have been too much. . .

Video: He’s sitting in his office chair in front of a full length mirror. He’s manspreading and his joggers are hugging him in a way that emphasizes his bulge.  His big, veiny hand is slowly rubbing his inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where he desperately wants your touch. He says, “Ya know,” (deep breath) “I should be doin’ that for you.” Then he palms his arousal and says, “Ahh, fuck it.”  

Video: A few minutes later, he’s slouched down in the chair.  His T-shirt is pulled up well over his  belly button and his hand around his cock. After just a few wet strokes, he sighs loudly as he cums all over his abdomen.  It’s a lot of cum, like six or seven ropes. Then his stomach rises and falls with heavy breaths for a few seconds before he ends the video. 

He’s grateful for the glimmer of hope but still beating himself up.  He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not even sure what you want. At times, it feels like a losing battle. He’s not even sure what you feel.  At some point he thought he knew, on some level. He thought you both knew, the moment you kissed, it felt like there was something electric neither of you could articulate but both of you knew.

It felt more than skin deep, but he couldn’t say where it went within either of you.  He still can’t say. It’s not like you were in love. Certainly not batting eyelashes at each other or making future plans. Half the time you were bickering.  But there was something there.  Even if it was only physical, it was deep in your bones and something made it electric. 

The further it gets from that moment, the more he wonders what you ever wanted. Is he your play thing? Do you get off on torturing him? Did you genuinely enjoy chatting with him?  Do you get off on sneaking around or would you be into him if you knew each other a different way? 

He pushes those thoughts away and keeps coming back to the physical spark between you. The hunger in your eyes.  Your persistence.  He wants both of you to take a leap of faith–not into a relationship–but a leap backward to the beginning.  This all burned down and needs to be rebuilt from the ground up.  If he lets it cool and builds it right, maybe it can become something better.  Abstaining from other people feels like a good start. He can’t think about whether you’re seeing anyone else or it keeps him up at night. 

—-----

The next day, you’re horny again.  You get comfortable and turn on your new toy. You tell yourself opening his snaps doesn’t mean anything.  You don’t have to respond.   It won’t have any effect on you.  But when you watch those two in his office, and oh, God. It takes you no time flat to cum, and cum hard.  You don’t say anything back to him. He texts you, “did you like that?” and you don’t respond.  He continues, “if not i’ll stop, sorry. Lmk.” You don’t let him know anything at all. You stay radio silent. 

Over the next couple of weeks, he keeps snapchatting you.  Even if you don’t open it that night, he knows you might go on a spree and open several in a row, probably when you’re using his gift. 

Video: It’s a computer screen with your insta pulled up.  He’s at the desk in his bedroom, the one where you found him jacking off to your pictures a few of months ago. He points the camera down at his lap and he’s wearing gray boxer briefs you didn’t know he had.  You see the very clear outline of his hard cock atop his thigh, straining to burst out of them.  “See what ya do to me.” He runs his hand down it with a low sigh.

Video: A few minutes later, selfie mode, breathing heavily.  Hand wrapped around his shiny cock, stiff and swollen.  He fists himself at a beat that’s becoming as irregular as his ragged breaths. He grunts as he thrusts into his hand.  “Oh, fuck—oh—-ohhh fuck, I–nngg–” He devolves into a groan as he erupts in his hand. It shoots back toward the camera. It takes a good thirty seconds of him moaning and sighing and catching his breath before he’s finally done emptying his balls. 

Video: He’s on his bed, rear camera facing his lap.  cock and his hand gliding wetly up and down it.   “I can’t believe. . .” (heavy breathing) “-oh, fuck—I–I can’t --I can't believe,” (moan) “I ever turned you down.” (long, drawn out orgasmic groan). 

Photo: Close-up of his lap with a boner.  His hand resting at his groin. His hand has no business being that hot.  Caption: How’s silicone joel treating you.”  You roll your eyes and begrudgingly smile just a little as you use the silicone joel and quickly tap for the next snap. 

Video: He’s in the office again, standing in front of the full length mirror. He’s in boxer briefs and his thighs swell out from them. No shirt.  He pans so you can see him head to toe, shirtless. Then he relaxes back in the chair, manspreading. The snap ends and it cuts to the next one.

Video: Now he’s breathing fast, stroking his raging erection feverishly in the next one “Ohh-nng-Oh–God–Fu–” (moan) “Fffuuuck” (loud, low sigh).  Stringy white ropes rocket onto his abdomen as he shudders loudly and strokes himself slower. You rewatch this one multiple times and count seven real ropes before it’s just gurgle. Seven.

You think about getting your ipad out and taking a video of this one for later use, but you accidentally tap for next. By now, he's completely unashamed.

Video: He’s in his car. You can only see his lap, and the ample bulge in his joggers. “Had to pull over.” He scoots the seat back, rubs himself slowly, breathing heavily. “Just thinkin’ about” (low sigh) “the way you came all over my mouth” He pulls his waistband down, spits on his cock, then sighs loudly. That snap ends, and in the next one--

Video: He's just cumming–really hard. It’s his fist around his cock.  “Oh, fuck,” (a gasp, then a soft, ragged groan)  “Fu–” he cuts himself off with a long sigh as he cums into a t-shirt.  You can’t see the cum but know it’s a lot.  You see his cock twitch and his hips lift as he sighs again. 

Photo: His big, masculine hand is holding a peach. Caption: Every fkn thing reminds me of you. 

All this time, you’re still not responding. Not so much as a thumbs up or sweating emoji. But you keep watching them, day after day, until  one day, he doesn’t send any.  You use the toy and just think about him, envisioning his videos, and replaying your encounters. You don’t just think about him jacking off, you think about him crying, too, and that turns you on just as much. You picture him crying and jacking off and you cum instantly. Then you feel kinda bad.

In your post-nut clarity, that’s when you realize you’re pretty much ready to move on from it.  Because you start to worry. Maybe he’s had enough of the games. Maybe he’s given up. Maybe you shouldn’t have punished him like this. It was fucked up, so fucked up, but the memory will fade. You detached enough in the moment that it's not that vivid to begin with.

Joel is married. He’s always been married. That's why he was always saying no. They kissed in front of you days before. Instead of insisting on a conversation, within sixty seconds you were putting your panties in his pocket. Then you made a pass at him, and he got you off on the kitchen counter.  Then you kissed.

That kiss. It was so loaded. Packed full of tension and potential. A glimpse of what could be had. There's no doubt in your mind the sex would be explosive.

If Joel hasn’t given up, maybe this interlude got you a little closer to what you want, somehow.  There's only one way to find out.

—-----

BONUS SNAPCHATS

the silicone Joel

STEPDAD MASTER LIST - Fandango has the most advanced smut

—-----

THANK YOU for reading and engaging. Your reblogs and comments mean so much to me, and I love when I start to see new “regulars.” It’s so exciting really. Love you guys 💙💙💙

Special shoutout to stepdad’s lawyer @milla-frenchy for expert counsel!

A/N: Based on a) people wanting her to hold out on him longer (which is what this was) and b) what i want to do on vacation, I think the vacation is going to have to be after Christmas. 

FAQ: I’m not planning on pursuing the jacques/cheatbacks storyline rn, you can HC that however you want as for what she did that night (if anything).  Don’t really wanna address the mom situation more, and probably won’t answer plot Qs. That way maybe you'll get the next story sooner --- I’m kinda trying to make this easier to write so it won’t take so much deliberation and weighing opposing inputs lol.

TBH it was supposed to just be sexy, smutty, scandalous, “we shouldn’t be doing this” PWP and it kinda got away from me.  But I at least wanted to give a little insight into Joel’s POV with this  one. 

Now back to the agenda: [cock, baby!.gif ].

-------

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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

[toxicrecs]

AND HE JACKS OFF 🥵🥵🥵 YOU'RE TOO GOOD TO US BEEFRO

Chubby Peña is SO HOT and a total HR nightmare!!!! Could a friendo humbly beg for a little crumb of lore?

That fateful night in the office when he's unsure if he can do up his pants again after the takeout. (. .love reader's taunting in that btw.)

After reader leaves, once Javi is ready to go home, is he able to button his pants? Does he rig them to stay up somehow like with a rubber band or just let them hang open or how does he make it to his car?

Because you asked so nicely, Toxy...

I feel like Chubby!Peña is clueless to the energy he brings into the world and I love it. We stan an unaware king!

Enjoy, @toxicanonymity and please - never stop sending THOTS!

Dont-stop-till-you-get-enough regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

“Oh my… you weren’t whistling dixie when you said you already ate.”, you pointed out in a teasing tone, poking him with the box of chocolaty nuts. “You too full or you want some chocolate?” 

He looked at you and scowled again, his tone sounding irritated, “Hey! You don’t get to come in here and - “ 

You cut him off by pushing one of the chocolates in his mouth. He grunted in response but made no move to stop you. 

“Don’t get cranky, Peña. I’ll leave you be.”, you cooed and gave him a wink as you got up, tossed the box of chocolate on his desk and walked out of his office. You went back to your desk and collected your jacket and purse. 

“See you in the morning, Agent Peña.”, you called out as you walked out the door. 

***** 

Javier sat back and watched you leave the office building, chewing on the confection you’d shoved into his mouth slowly. Bewildered was a mild word to describe the absolute state he was left in; his belly was heavy and full, and his dick was hard. He looked at the haphazardly tossed box of chocolates on his desk, debating if you really meant to leave them there for him. Was it a test? Or was it a challenge?  

He thought for a moment, then lifted the lid off the box and eyed the candy. Fuck it. Challenge accepted, Sweetheart. 

After one, came another, and another, and another... and before he realized it, he was at the final chocolate-covered nut. His stomach ached, but he didn’t care. Holding the nut delicately between his pointer finger and thumb, he examined it then tossed it into his mouth while palming his crotch. He sat back and pushed his hand down the front of his open pants and underwear and stroked himself, thinking of the way you looked at him, judging him, exposing his guilty pleasure. He shoved his underwear down and pumped himself hard and came with a grunt and your name on his lips. 

After steadying his breathing and taking stock of the mess he’d made, he cleaned himself up as best as he could with a tissue. He pushed himself to stand and felt the weight of his dinner sitting heavy in his middle. He knew night security would be roaming the halls and there would be a good chance of him running into one of the officers on his way out; he could not just wander out, pants open and belly hanging out. He tried once again to close his pants to no avail. 

“Fuck me...”, he grunted, pulling the two side of his waistband together. 

There was still at least two inches of space between them, no matter how hard he tugged.  

“FUCK!”, he spat, throwing his hands out to the side.  

Despite this, he would still not even entertain the thought of buying new pants.  

He desperately opened the drawers of his desk, looking for something - anything – to help him. Finally, he came upon a few stationery supplies.  

He was proud of himself; in less than 10 minutes, he’d fashioned himself a tether to keep his pants up. He untucked his shirt and undid his tie to sell the look in case he ran into anyone and put his jacket on.  

He did run into two of the night security guards, both looking over him with raised eyebrows. Javier shook off their glances and wrote it off to him working late, and not to the fact that his shirt didn’t cover the monstrosity of elastic bands and paperclips stapled to and struggling to hold his pants together.  

[milla-frenchy]

2k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: Joel finds out that babysitting isn't your only student job Warnings: 18+ mdni. PWP. Age gap unspecified, escort, dirty talk, praise kink, sir kink, size kink, spitting, pussy slapping, light degradation, oral (m/f), unprotected piv, creampie. No outbreak a/n: @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog thank you for correcting me, as always. ILY 💕🫶🫶🫶 Thanks to @noxturnalpascal who had this idea: PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak). PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW) *1000 word Minimum - 2000 word Maximum The other fics based on this prompt: Dancing is a dangerous game @noxturnalpascal ; Webcam for beginners @iamasaddie ; Birthday surprise @aurorawritestoescape Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

ao3 - Masterlist

"Good night, Mr. Miller!"

You close the front door behind you and quickly walk to your car. You’re a student, in your final year. Babysitter is your job for the first part of the evening. Sarah Miller is one of the children you regularly babysit on weekend evenings.

In the second part of the evening, you’re an escort.

A few months earlier, in a club, someone asked you to join their escort business. You had never considered it before, but the money to be earned, the relatively “classy” and secure side of the site you would work for, made you decide. However, you wanted to continue babysitting, and start escorting sparingly. 

You arrive at the usual hotel about thirty minutes before one of your regulars, so you can have time to get ready.

Joel is single, and regularly he pays for an escort.

That evening, he surfs his usual site, and he’s looking for something fresh. He has his regulars, but from time to time he likes to fuck a new one. He loves to see how they react under his fingers. Loves their look when they see his cock for the first time, then when he sinks into them. How they take his cock. His subscription costs him a lot, but he has never been disappointed.

He scrolls lazily on his phone until his thumb stops on the screen. He scrolls back a little and stares at a photo. He can’t see much of the escort's face, but it's enough to put him in doubt. Is it really Sarah’s babysitter he’s looking at?

In 10 minutes, you’ll be here to babysit Sarah. He puts his phone down and waits. When you arrive, he greets you as usual, but lingers to look at this little mole, just above your mouth. This mole, that made him scroll backwards.

He smirks, and goes out to meet a woman he fucks from time to time. When he pushes his cock in her pussy that night, he thinks of his kid's babysitter.

When he gets home, you’re sitting on the couch, watching Narcos. He wonders why the actor is wearing such tight jeans when his bulge is so visible.

You get up and ask him if he had a good evening. He smiles at you and says yes. He pauses before asking if everything went well with Sarah, and you tell him everything was fine, as usual. You gather your things and leave, wishing him a good night.

Joel watches you walk to your car and he heads upstairs. He goes to his daughter’s bedroom to check on her, and closes the door, seeing that Sarah is sleeping.

He walks to his bedroom, lies down on the bed and picks up his phone. He finds your page and looks through your photos. The escorts' bodies are much less hidden than their faces. He looks at your curves. Your breasts pressed between your hands. Your pussy covered in red lingerie. Your ass, barely covered by a black thong. He pulls his cock out of his pants and boxers, and grabs the lotion from his nightstand drawer before starting to jerk off. He thinks about you and wonders if you're with a client. He jacks off with long and slow movements, and imagines the noises you make when you’re getting fucked. The noises you would make if he was fucking you deep. He imagines your mouth around his cock and how you would suck his balls. He jerks off harder and cums, sending squirts onto his lower stomach. He doesn’t even take the time to clean himself before booking a slot with you.

The next weekend, he had asked Tommy to watch Sarah. 

He arrives at the hotel, goes to room 301 and sits in the Chesterfield chair, waiting for you. 5 minutes later, you enter the room. You take off your trench and turn towards the chair. Your eyes widen when you see him.

“Mr Miller?!”

He looks at you and doesn’t answer.

“Oh my god, it’s so embarrassing… I’m sorry, I will notify the escort service of the situation and you will be reimbursed. I am really sorry, Mr. Miller.”

He smiles and says “I think you don’t understand, baby. I booked because I knew it was you.”

You frown and tell him it’s totally inappropriate.

“Well… Considering the way I catch you looking at me sometimes, I'm not sure it bothers you that much.”

“No, Mr. Miller, I assure you I don’t-”

He smirks again, and you stop talking. He’s right. Ever since you started babysitting his daughter, you can't help but sneak glances at him. But you thought you were more discreet, though.

“Now darlin’, I’m your client tonight, so do what you’re getting paid for, and come suck my cock.”

His attitude shocks you a little, he’s the father of the child you babysit, and there has never been any awkward situations between the two of you until now. But his talk, the way he commands you, turns you on. After a few seconds of hesitation, you walk up to him, get on your knees and undo his pants. You take out his cock and pause before looking up at him.

“Come on, baby. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of one cock? That would be embarrassing as an escort, right?”

You lean down, take his shaft in your hand, start to jerk him off and take his tip in your mouth. It's so wide that it barely fits, but you do your best. 

“Look at me, when you blow me, baby.”

You try to put your embarrassment aside and glance up at him. The moment your eyes meet, his are so dark, so full of desire that you forget your reserve. You want to give him value for his money, but above all, you want to make him forget everything while he is in this hotel room with you.

You let the saliva build up and then flow down his shaft, while you swirl your tongue over his slit and let the precum invade your mouth. 

“That’s it darlin’. That’s good. Deeper now.”

You go further down, squeeze his thigh with one hand, letting your mouth go down his shaft. You then caress his balls with your other hand, while you keep his cock buried all the way to your throat.

”Shit, baby… can't believe this naughty mouth is the same that dares to talk to my daughter.”

You moan around his cock hearing him, and hold yourself back from slipping your hand into your panties and touching yourself. You pull back and suck him again. He puts his hands on each side of your head and pumps your mouth with his hip thrusts. You stay still, without moving, eyes closed, while he’s fucking your mouth roughly.

“Yeah, just like that. Fuckin’ take my cock.”

He growls as his fists clench in your hair. He stops and holds you, your mouth full of his cock. You hear him breathing heavily.

“‘m gonna fuck your throat now. Eyes on me baby.”

You stare at him, and he pulls back, before sinking his cock in your throat. He holds your head so tight that you couldn't pull back even if you wanted to. You let him fuck your throat, as he thrusts deep inside 3 or 4 times, slowly. You feel tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, as his shaft sinks fully. He holds you and says “Don’t move. Don’t fuckin’ move.”

You follow his command, your eyes still fixed on him, and you feel his cock twitch in the back of your throat.

“That’s good, darlin’. Fuck…”

He finally releases you, slightly, still setting the pace. He leans towards you and pulls your head back, saying “open”.

You open and he spits in your mouth. He caresses your chin and tells you to swallow. You do so, and you don’t take your eyes off him. You know that’s what he wants. His attitude keeps turning you on, and you feel that your panties are soaked.

“Take off your blouse and skirt, and lie down on the bed.”

He looks at you, still sitting in the Chesterfield chair, while you undress. Then he stands up, removes all his clothes and lays down on the bed, his shoulders between your thighs. He pulls aside the fabric of your panties and reveals your pussy.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked, baby…Now ask me to eat you out.”

“Eat my pussy, please.”

He slaps your clit and you cry out in surprise.

“Ask better than that."

“Would you eat my pussy, please, sir?”

“Much better. We’ll have to work on your manners, darlin'.”

You don't even have time to wonder if he's really planning to fuck you again, before he slides from your soaked hole to your clit, with the flat of his tongue, in a long stroke. You moan as he now pushes his tongue into your pussy and his nose rubs against your clit.

“Mmmm you taste good.”

He licks you again with a long stroke and pushes two fingers into your pussy, focusing his tongue on your clit. His beard rubs against your thighs and fuck… he knows how to eat a pussy. You bend your knees and spread your thighs to offer yourself even more to him, your hands gripping his curls. He raises his head and his chin shines with your wetness. 

“You spread like a slut for me, who would have known you were such a whore when I hired you?”

Being far from shocked, you moan under his words as he starts sucking your clit again. His free hand pulls on your bra to release a breast, which he grabs in his hand.

“Fuckin talk to me, baby.”

“I love that. You eat me so well. Please-”

He stops and says “manners.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, sir. It’s so good, I forgot my manners. Please keep going, sir, I would like to come in your mouth, please.”

“Good girl”, he says, before starting to swirl his tongue over your clit again.

He pushes a third finger into your pussy and you roll your hips against his mouth, trying to grind yourself against it as much as possible.

“That's it baby. I can feel you’re gonna come.”

You moan louder and louder and he adds "come on my tongue, baby. Come on the tongue of the man who pays for two of your jobs"

“Fuck”, you say as you grip his hair and come in his mouth, shaking.

“There it is… That's good, baby, you're doing so well.” 

You jolt again at his praise, your pussy squeezing his fingers one more time. He kneels between your thighs, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and asks:

“You want this cock, baby?”

“Yes I do, sir.”

“Take it, then”, he adds, lying on his back next to you.

Shyness makes you doubt your actions again the moment you straddle him, after taking off your panties and bra. You’re so close to his face. The face of one of your employers, much older than you, but above all, the father of a child you babysit. Joel seems to understand what's making you hesitate, and his gaze becomes softer, more familiar to you. 

“What happens here, stays here, baby.”

You nod and grab his cock, pressing his tip against your entrance. You stare at his chest and start sinking on it, when he stops you.

“No, not like that. You look at me when you fuck yourself on my cock. You look at me, and don’t take your eyes off me.”

“Why?”, you whisper.

“Because I wanna see you suffocate when my cock tears you in two. Because I want you to realize that it’s my cock, that you’re gonna impale yourself on. Because I want you to remember that, the next time you come to my house and I open the door to you, even if we don’t refer to it outside of here.”

So you raise your head, stare at him, and lower your pelvis. And god, he was right when he said his cock would tear you in two. You feel it parting your folds and you can't hold back a long moan.

You keep impaling yourself on his cock, more and more, going down his shaft without stopping or slowing down, your eyes fixed on his, while he has placed his hands on your hips now, but letting you be in control.

His stare has changed too. His confidence has given way to pleasure and you can't help but smile, until you reach the base of his dick. You stay like that for a few seconds, full of his cock, and you catch your breath.

“So tell me…. since when did you wanna fuck me?” he asks you. 

“Fuck, I…I don’t know…”

He holds your hips so you stay grounded on him, and can’t avoid his questions.

“Days? Weeks? Months?”

“Oh god…hu…Weeks or months, I guess.”

“Oh baby you wanted this cock for so long?”

“Please, I wanna move…”

“Last question. Do you think about that big cock at night in your bed?”

“Fuck…Yes. Yes I do. I touch myself thinking of your cock.”

He smirks and finally releases the pressure on your hips. You start rolling them, barely lifting yourself with every movement of your hips. You rub your clit against his lower abdomen and you seek your pleasure again, even though you came in his mouth a short time before.

“Fuck look at that… you’re using me to get off, my cock deep in your slutty pussy…”

You bite your lip and realize that what you’re doing is unprofessional. You should act for his own pleasure. But you can't. And you don’t want to, for now. His cock is so good, and you feel that in less than two minutes you’re gonna come on it.

“It’s ok, baby. Use me, come on my cock. It’s here for it.” 

“I…fuck. I’m gonna cum, sir. Your cock is so thick and…my clit...fuck...my clit..it’s so good. I’m gonna…I’m gonna come, sir. Can I come, please?”

“Come for me baby, come on”, he whispers, and as you’re coming on his cock, he presses harder on your hips, to keep you fully buried on him.

You fall onto his torso and he caresses your back until your spasms stop. You come to your senses and sit up straight, before realizing that you are still impaled on him, and that his cock is still just as big and hard inside you. Your pussy clenches at this sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Fuck, baby. You just came twice in a matter of minutes, what fucker would be mad after that?”

You nod and smile gently.

“Lie on your back, now, baby.”

You do as he asks, and once lying on top of you, he says, his eyes fixed on yours “my turn to fuck you.”

He thrusts into you half way suddenly, and you can't help but suffocate. He pulls back, and immediately sinks in again and bottoms up.

“Fuck… you’re so fuckin’ tight. ’m gonna ruin that pussy, baby.”

He fucks you quickly and goes deep with each stroke. You feel his balls slap against your pussy and…he fucks well. One of the best fucks you've ever had. Maybe even the best. You hold on to his biceps and let him fuck you.

“Come on baby, use your words, tell me what you feel.”

But he’s fucking you so hard, so good, that you can’t answer.

“Oh baby… what’s goin’ on? You can’t talk anymore, I’m fucking you that good?”

“Yes…yes, sir.”

“Come on baby, give me more. Your other clients fuck you like this?”

You can’t answer, but you shake your head, while he’s still pounding you.

“No? Not a single client fucks you as good as me?”

You shake your head again. 

“You know it won’t be the only time we fuck, right? I’m not even done with you, and I already miss your pussy. Fuck…you’re squeezing me so tight…fuck.”

“More”, you say.

“More what? Words.”

“I want you to fuck me more… I… shit… I want more nights.”

“You’ll have them, baby. Ah fuck..I’m gonna fill you, baby….That’s what you want? To be filled by my big cock?”

“Yes…Yes please sir, fill me up!”

He thrusts in again, twice, three times, and you feel his spurts of cum filling your pussy.

“You're gonna empty my bank account with that pussy baby, damn…”

*******************

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Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

[penvisions]

hello hello and thank you so much for being here in my little corner of the internet! i'm a long time hobby writer that's getting back into the swing of things as hyper fixations take place. currently that includes a wide range of fandoms and most of my works are still in progress (ppcu). i hope that doesn't deter you from checking them out!

i hope you they bring something to you if you decide to check them out, little joys are so important these days

any and all likes, reblogs, comments, asks, shoutouts are so so greatly appreciated ♡ please feel free to reach out if you feel so inclined ♡ i’d be happy to chat with y’all

there is absolutely no pressure, but here is my kofi account if anyone if feeling generous ♡

wanted to pop into this post and highlight that a few of my reader characters range from descriptions of hair and skin color / texture. most of them have been adapted from OFC characters in my mind but i want everyone to feel like they aren't being blindsided when reading or beginning to start my fics. most details can be discarded. i hope this is all okay and happy reading! love y'all so much and just want everyone to have a good time and enjoy reading ♡

-> ao3 link || drabble masterlist

*The Last of Us:

Joel Miller x Reader Masterlist

*Triple Frontier

Frankie Morales x Reader Masterlist

*Kingsman: Golden Circle

Jack Daniels x Reader || Agent Whiskey x Reader Masterlist

*Star Wars: The Mandalorian:

Title: of beskar and kyber Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader) Status: work in progress Summary: You’ve been on the run for as long as you can remember, from a lot of different people and a lot of different things. Everyone seems to see you as either a prize to show off or a captive to exploit. You had been successful in keeping a low profile and evading brief captures. That is until your mother contracted the Guild and the Mandalorian came to possess your tracking fob. Will he be the reason your freedom is no longer something attainable or will he be the one to help you achieve it in ways you never anticipated? 

ao3 link || series masterlist

*Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Title: from grief to grace Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Reader Summary: Determined to work through your heartbreak, you end up spacing out until your boss comes to check on you.

fic link

*Eddington

Title: appointing authority Pairing: Ted Garcia x F! Reader Summary: Mr. Garcia needs a distraction from all the hard work he's been doing and you're more than happy to provide it.

fic link

[psychedelic-ink]

* i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, reposted or translated (without my knowledge)

TV SHOWS & MOVIES MASTERLIST

PPCU MASTERLIST.

🔮 personal favorite || ☔️ smut || 🤧 angst || 🧁 fluff || 🩸 dark content

Fuck It I Love You ☔️

pope's his best friend, he shouldn't get jealous when you talk to him– he really shouldn't. But how can he not when you've been turning a blind eye to all of his all the flirting he's been doing for the past month?

Wonderful Tonight ☔️

It's your birthday and Dave's running late, Frankie tries his best to distract you.

Be There ☔️

you think frankie might leave you just like everyone else, he proves otherwise.

Save Tonight (feat. santiago garcia) ☔️

frankie comes with you with a proposal that you're eager to accept.

Tag, You're It ☔️

once a month you and frankie play a game.

I Fall Apart ☔️

frankie's just having one of those days where he wants to be taken care of.

'tis the damn season ☔️

you've been crushing on your handsome neighbor for quite some time, but even if you've made your intentions clear, it doesn't seem to get through to him. However that all might change when his flight gets canceled and the two of you spend the holidays together.

Fruit, So Ripe ☔️

Frankie eats fruit. That's it. That's the plot.

All Our Candles Are Burned Out ☔️🧁 (feat. dieter bravo)

dieter needs helicopter lessons for an upcoming role and santiago finds you the perfect man for the job.

There Was a Wonderful Pleasure (feat. dave york)☔️

you've been having a stressful time, Dave and Frankie provide an excellent way to comfort you.

Fictional Death 🧁

you have trouble sleeping after your favorite character's death. luckily frankie is there to help.

Sweet Thing ☔️

taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

you were seventeen when Frankie became your stepbrother, but no matter the title, he never felt like a brother to you, going off to college right after your father remarried. But no matter the circumstances, he was still off limits. Years pass and when he returns from the army your relationship with him is even more strained. You end up settling for the second best thing instead, his best friend. Everything seems to be going fine until Frankie stays over and Santi needs to leave for work.

Writers' Iron Chef #10: Dreaming of Chandeliers 🧁

The interviews for the live in nanny job are a nightmare, luckily the next applicant, Frankie Morales, sweeps in to save the day.

Call Me ☔️

Frankie's away and when he calls you, you're reminded of how he has the filthiest mouth.

Forever ☔️

“You like it when I call you pretty?”

You moan out a broken “yes” falling out of your lips as you feel Frankie’s soft lips skimming down your stomach to your soaked pussy. His large hands pin your hips down to the bed, you moan at the way his blunt nails dig into your skin. 

My Drug (feat. jack daniels) ☔️

Your gaze follows his, Jack’s looking at you both, a wide grin spread across his handsome features as he lazily strokes his cock. A bead of precum disappears under his palm. You whine, slick dribbling down Frankie’s length as he mercilessly pounds into you. 

Only for you ☔️

Frankie wants to watch you touch yourself.

Do you feel it? ☔️

Frankie thinks you're beautiful.

MILLION DOLLAR MAN | SERIES 🤧☔️ (frankie morales x fem!reader x agent whiskey)

Two years had passed since your break up with Jack, a fellow Statesmen agent. But everything re-ignites again when Champ asks you to go San Francisco to investigate the disappearance of multiple women across the country and, sadly enough, agent Malibu. While doing anything with Jack is chaos enough, you also run in to another ex, a man that actually showed you kindness and someone you thought you could spend the rest of your days with that is until he started asking too many questions about your job, Frankie Morales.

[prolix-yuy]

Congrats!!!!!!! Can I request a little something with our boy ~Whiskey~? Maybe like an old college fling and they see each other at a bar and things get ~spicy~?? Thanks!!! Congratulations again!!!

Ohhhhhh lovely, you've got me in a soft spot. I never thought Whiskey was going to be a recurring character in my PPCU but he keeps coming in and spicing things up! Let's see how a little meetup with an old college friend turns out...

My Bluebell Song

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Bluebell"

Summary: In all the time time I've known you and loved you from afar, let me go back on your way.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, breast play, grinding and groping, dirty talking Jack comes with his own warning.

Notes: Golden Circle? We don't know her here. Jack just has a nice job at a distillery and a heart full of lovvin'. Title is based on My Bluebell Song by Mark Olsen.

“Bluebell?”

Your head perks up, brows pulled together.

No one’s called you Bluebell since…

“Whiskey?”

The nondescript bar a few miles from home, one that’s so familiar to you it practically fades into the background when you enter, burst into light and color when Jack Daniels smiles.

“Well I’ll be damned, it is you!” he says, sliding up to your barstool to pull you into a warm hug.

“It’s been so long!” you reply, a breathy laugh squeezed out of you by Jack’s embrace. He pulls back to study your face, giving you a good long pause to take in how the years have changed him. College was far enough back that you miscounted the years, but your memory of the southern gentleman who was surprisingly adept at criminal law and international affairs was still sharp enough to hold against the real deal in front of you. 

A mustache, thick and well trimmed, sits comfortably on his face. A few more laugh lines around his mouth and eyes, though they look less used than you might suspect. The span of his shoulders is wider than you remember - maybe because he’s standing close enough that you can breathe in lungfuls of mint and musky cologne without it being too noticeable. The flannel he’s wearing is soft, the memory of its caress against your cheek soothing as you smirk at the buttons threatening to pop. He was always proud of the width and breadth of his body, and apparently his fashion hasn’t strayed from accentuating his best assets. 

“Never thought I’d be running into you in a place like this,” Jack says, stepping back to settle into the bar stool next to you. One elbow on the counter, long dexterous fingers stroking along the etched lines of his rocks glass. You know what’s in it, smell the heat of whiskey as clearly as you can smell the man that shares the name. 

“I never thought I’d be running into you, period. What have you been up to Jack?” you ask, turning in your seat to face him. The sideways smirk that used to make your heart dance plays across his face, though there’s a little more sadness to it. You can commiserate; the years have been kind and not to you as well.

“You know, the holidays. My dad’s alone now, so I took some time off to keep him company.” Your smile dims, a more empathetic one replacing it. 

“I was sorry to hear it,” you say, Jack’s grateful hum chasing your words. Your mom told you about Mrs. Daniels’ rapid decline.

“Home visiting too?” Jack says, changing the subject quickly as you clock the shine of his eyes. Those who knew Jack might have thought it brisk, but you knew Jack, and let him lead.

Jack had been the troublemaker, the rabble-rouser at your college. Athletic enough to be a fiend on the lacrosse field, and smart enough to hold his own in debate club, he was a heartthrob to many. But that’s not what drew you to friendship.

You worked as a stable hand through college, both for the money and for the enjoyment of being around the boarded horses after long days of classes. It was just the amount of palate-cleansing you needed to go home and study in the evenings. You’d heard of “that whiskey-named fella”, but it wasn’t until you were bent over in a stall putting down fresh hay that you exchanged words. 

“Excuse me ma’am,” came a careful voice from outside the gate, startling you upright as a few errant wisps of straw floated down from your hands. He was handsome then, more boyish and brash, but respectful when he apologized for startling you.

“Do you know if Sherwood’s still out on the grounds?” he asked, your brain finally clicking into motion. You directed him to the stable manager, mentioned that you thought his horse was getting a rubdown, and let him know where to check if he couldn’t find him there. He thanked you, and added with a self-assured smirk, “See you around, Bluebell.” The moniker furrowed your brow until you peeked over the stable door and saw the name etched into a plaque. 

Bluebell stuck, and so did Jack once he ran into you on campus. You thought he might be a tease about it, but your casual conversations over horses quickly expanded to favorite classes, homework help, lunches and dinners when you both were free, and the occasional wild weekend when obligations were lax. Holidays spent visiting each other for a handful of days, especially when you realized how close your homes were. You fit into each other's worlds easily, and left them amicably at the end of four hectic years.

You truly never expected to see Jack again. You assumed you’d chat, his number migrated from phone to phone, but whenever you thought of calling or texting it felt weird after so many years apart. So he became the soft memory of a good friend.

Until now, with his charming smile and easy conversation back within arm’s reach.

“Mom and Dad are thinking of downsizing…which they’ve said for years, but they’re asking me to take things so maybe they’re serious this time.” Your drink slips lower as Jack watches you with careful curiosity. It’s a look that made you feel seen in your youth, but now makes you feel…appreciated? 

You can’t remember the last time a man made you feel appreciated.

“I always liked that house,” he mulls, signaling the bartender for another round. 

“If you give them an offer, they might just take it,” you toss back, leaning on the bar as Jack turns back to you. You’re delightfully buzzy, shoulders lighter and warmth radiating down your spine at every new laugh Jack coaxes out of you. It’s the easy happiness you remember from late nights returning home from parties, mostly there because Jack invited you. The little thrill when he’d ask to crash at your dorm because you had a single and his roommate was asleep. How euphoric it felt to lay on the floor and stare at the Where’s Waldo poster you hung on the ceiling, Jack complaining about how your shag rug was in dire need of grooming. 

All the times you tried to work yourself up to touch him that ended with his soft snore sending you to your bed and a regretful groan waking you the next day.

“I don’t think it would be quite the same without you in it,” he says. The words are simple enough, rumbled out from between his full lips, but the quick glint in his eyes has waves of heat and lightheadedness washing over you.

Did he just…?

“I’m sure you have a better home waiting for you,” you say, regret instantly tanging on your tongue. Jack gives you a shrug, that smirk still playing beneath that gorgeous mustache. It kills you how good he looks with it.

“Nothing special, little duplex I rent close to the distillery. It’s a house, but not really much of a home.” The bartender delivers your drinks, and Jack strokes one thick finger along the rim of his glass. The heat that was licking your face and neck is now hurtling somewhere much more dangerous. “What about you, Bluebell? You made yourself a nice little home, a good life outside of this town?”

You return his shrug as casually as possible, the implications of your conversation strumming your heart.

“I haven’t settled on anything yet. Feels like I’ve still got some opportunities ahead of me.” You almost let out the nervous laugh sitting in your throat. You’ve never been so coy, yet so bold. But it’s Jack, the one you never let yourself believe you could get, and when he meets your eyes again your strumming heart stops.

“Someone special waiting for you?” he asks, slow as a sunset. Your answer is a gunshot.

“No.”

His smile ricochets into your chest.

“Good.”

Suddenly you can’t breathe, Jack’s gaze pinning you in place. His confidence has always been sexy but directing it at you, with unfamiliar seduction behind his words, has your mouth drying out. 

An interruption gives you time to compose yourself.

“Oh my god, Whiskey?!” comes a woman’s voice, the crowd parting as she beelines to Jack’s shoulder. 

“Maryanne,” he says with a laugh, treating her to a one-armed hug that she throws herself into. Breathing under control, you try not to jump to the next possible conclusion.

“I haven’t seen you since graduation? How have you been?” she gushes, hand planted firmly on his shoulder. Her nails are gorgeously manicured, long hair swept back into an elegant high ponytail. She’s effortlessly dressed, fitting in but standing out in a way that draws eyes. You vaguely remember her, a staple at Jack’s college parties. With a whoosh of your stomach, you recall that they dated, briefly. 

“Back in town for a time. The holidays, you know,” Jack answers, nodding at her kindly but curtly. The exchange has you see-sawing between dread and confusion. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was brushing her off. You desperately hope he is.

“Amazing. You look amazing, too, by the way. Really grew into these shoulders,” she says, squeezing his bicep with a laugh. He chuckles along with her, but you see his body shift away. You should try to give her the hint.

“Nice to see you too, Maryanne,” you interject, the force of her smile now turned to you. Her expression blanks, then recognition clicks.

“Oh my God, this is just a day of reunions!” she crows, giving you a hug too. Catching Jack’s eye over her shoulder, he shakes his head with a helpless shrug. 

“You should come sit with us, catch up!” Maryanne suggests, looking at Jack now instead of you. “A couple of the old crowd have a table in the back, I’m sure they’d all like to say hi.”

Fighting the urge to shrink into yourself, you try to keep a sunny disposition even as Maryanne is tempting Jack away. His eyes flit between you two, uncertainty painting his expression. Maryanne catches on and spins back.

“Of course you can come back too, we have plenty of room,” she adds cheerily. Your heart is hammering in your throat now, tears threatening to sting your eyes. It would be rude to refuse, but you don’t want to sit at a table full of people who wouldn’t recognize you without being at Jack’s elbow. You didn’t want to fake a smile for the next hour. You especially didn’t want to watch Maryanne flirt with Jack, see if he accepts her advances, see if he’s just having his fun with his old faithful friend and you’re just projecting something more.

A warm palm strokes down your forearm and dashes all your worries away like blowing dust from an old novel.

“Thank you for the invite, but my girl and I are having a night to ourselves. Please send our best wishes to the others,” Jack says as smoothly as any movie star could hope to deliver under pressure. Maryanne’s face freezes, contorts, and breaks into embarrassment with realization.

“Oh I’m such an idiot, I didn’t mean to…” she begins to apologize, Jack’s soothing voice smothering her frantic one, but you can barely hear them over two words echoing in your head.

My girl.

My girl.

Mygirlmygirlmygirlmygirlmygirl.

You smile understandingly at Maryanne, give her another hug before she slips back into the crowd and disappears.

Leaving you with Jack. Who just called you his girl.

His hand is still on your arm, but slowly slides down to your wrist, then over your knuckles, and finally under your palm to take your hand into his own.

“I hope that wasn’t too forward, me calling you that,” he murmurs, leaning in and studying your hand in his, almost as if he’s mapping out a scene in his head. The wisp of memory of all those times you wished you’d taken the first step are familiar in his face.

“Only if you don’t mean it,” you say, surprised at the steadiness in your voice. Jack peeks up at you through his lashes, and the mirror of your own hope makes you more light-headed than any drink.

“You’ve been my girl to me for longer than my pride will let me admit,” he husks, his other hand coming to brush against your knee. The room feels brighter all of the sudden, music too loud, conversations too close. You take in a shuddering breath, ordering yourself to have the strength you’d lacked so many times.

“I’ve always been your girl, Jack.”

He’s on his feet in a flash, fingers laced in yours and tugging you out of your seat.

“Come with me.”

It feels like you’re floating as Jack leads you through the growing crowd, fingers woven with his thicker ones. His flannel stretches tantalizingly across his shoulders as you follow him to the back of the bar where a hall leads to the bathrooms. Just as you duck out of sight of the other bar goers, Jack cups your cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

“Bluebell, I’ve chickened out on kissing you so many times,” he groans, whiskey-laced breath hot on your lips as your smile pinches your cheeks. 

“Glad to know I wasn’t the only one,” you manage to get out before Jack cradles your head and brings his lips to yours.

You can’t help it; you moan into his mouth, everything fading away around you - the music, the conversations - until it’s just Jack’s full lips fitting to your plush ones. A puff of air tickles along your cheek, Jack’s aquiline nose pressed into yours as he drags out kiss after kiss. Maybe it’s one long one, barely broken by the sharp inhales he pulls through his nose and the slow encroachment of his body against yours. One of his hands slides down your back to press you chest to chest, arms circling as you melt into him. This is what a swoon-worthy kiss should be like. This is what you missed all those years. 

He pulls back just enough to brush your lips together lightly, then gently swipes his tongue along the seam. The sensation startles your mouth open, fisting his hair in one hand and his flannel in another. It’s his turn to groan into your mouth, pressing you back into the cool wall.

“Bluebell, I should have been kissing you for years,” he groans, crashing your lips back together and darting his tongue in to slide against yours. Your need mounts, sucking his lower lip between your teeth playfully before exploring with teasing licks and gasps. Fighting between air and desire, you whimper when Jack pulls away, searching your face frantically.

“This doesn’t feel real. Tell me it’s real, Bluebell, because it’s the best damn thing that’s happened to me in years and I’ll be devastated if I wake up,” he pants, and you pull him into a hug that almost crushes his nose into your neck.

“It’s so fucking real, Jack, I’m…shit, I’m so happy,” you whisper, feeling Jack’s face turn against your skin before his mouth is hot and hungrily scraping along your throat. Mindlessly you part your legs and shift your hips to guide his thigh between yours, a thready noise eking out when he presses deeper and up against your heat. 

“Oh shit, baby, you’re so hot,” he garbles, hands coming to your waist as he kisses a path up to your ear. “Fuck, we shouldn’t be…doing this here. Don’t want anyone to see you like this.” In spite of his confession, he urges your hips to roll along his thigh and you bemoan wearing jeans out tonight. The double layers of denim keep the friction frustratingly soft. Though when Jack growls, “I only want to be able to see you like this,” it’s almost enough to get you there anyways. 

“Take me home,” you breathe, peeling him off you enough that he can see your urgency. His eyes are hazy, lips swollen and tempting enough to steal another kiss. He presses his thigh harder, making you come up to your toes with a squeak. It’s so close to what you need.

“Fuck, I’m staying with my dad,” Jack groans, fingers sliding under your shirt to tease at the skin along your waistband. You huff a laugh, lolling your head back.

“Same,” you add, voice cracking with the hilarity of it all. “It’s just like college all over again,” you observe, snorting out a laugh that Jack follows with a warm one of his own.

“No, if this was college I’d come back to your dorm and make love to you all night in that tiny little bed,” Jack corrects, both palms slipping down to squeeze your bottom as he slides his nose against yours. You stroke across his chest, fingers skating briefly over the peaks of his nipples and noting the little hitch in his breath when you do.

“The bathrooms lock,” you say, biting your lip at the look of disgust that scrawls across Jack’s face.

“The first time I get to fuck you will not be in a dirty bar bathroom,” Jack scolds, stepping back and taking the delicious heat and friction with him. You pout briefly, chasing his touch.

“Bill keeps it very clean, I’ll have you know,” you shoot back, earning a roll of the eyes and an enveloping of you into his body again. He places a chaste kiss on your temple, then another on the corner of your mouth.

“I’ve got my dad’s truck out back, we can go anywhere,” Jack whispers, the words barely out before you’re tugging him to the exit.

“I’ve always liked your dad’s truck,” you tease, earning a delicious flash of heat in Jack’s eyes.

“Don’t you start that,” he warns, but follows you out.

The back parking lot is dark, your only guide the flash of the truck’s lights. Jack puts you in the passenger side first, but as soon as the door shuts you’re on him again, pulling him by the flannel back to your mouth.

“Bluebell this is hardly better than the bar. I’m not getting arrested for indecent exposure by Mr. Benedict in my dad’s old truck.” The sheer ridiculousness of the sentence makes you pull away, eyes adjusted enough to the dark to find Jack’s in the ink.

“Mr. Benedict, the PE teacher, is a cop now?” you ask, pulling a chuckle from deep in Jack’s chest. It’s quickly becoming your favorite sound.

“Seems you need to get in on the town gossip.” 

His sassy remark is cut short when you palm his cock through his jeans, heavy and straining against the denim. 

“Seems like someone may not be able to wait until we find a better place,” you say, sliding your thumb under the thick ridge of the head. A guttural choke spurs you on, leaning over the center console to suck a mark beneath Jack’s ear. Your body is vibrating, all self-consciousness and anxiety thrown out the window in favor of Jack Jack Jack.

“Holy fuck, Bluebell, shit, okay, yeah, okay, let’s…” Jack stammers before you awkwardly crawl over to the drivers side, balancing precariously on your knees as Jack peppers kisses across the tops of your breasts. 

“Want you now, Jack, I can barely fucking stand it,” you plead, working open the top few buttons of his flannel. Jack takes the hint and rucks your shirt over your breasts, scraping his teeth along the fabric to catch your nipple. It spikes through your spine and into your cunt, your hips jerking. His thumb hooks into your bra strap and tugs it down, your breast spilling into his hot mouth. You could cry, his tongue swirling around the peak and sucking and rolling it between his lips creating the perfect ache. Grabbing the bunched-up hem of your shirt, you move to pull it over your head, your hips canting backwards…

And your ass hits the horn.

The blare of sound shocks you forward, and with a series of ratcheting clicks the well-worn driver’s seat reclines, sending you flying back with twin oofs! Your chest slams against Jack’s, and with a “shit!” you post up on your hands, still straddling Jack with one of your tits out and your shirt half on. He looks up at you, eyes wide in the moonlight, before he tries (and fails) to fight back a smile. 

“Just alert the whole town to our canoodling then, sweetheart,” Jack says before you both dissolve into laughter, tears streaming down your face. Jack rights your bra and helps you slide your shirt back down to a reasonable place before pulling you to lay against his chest. 

For a few long minutes you lay there, wildly uncomfortable with how scrunched up you are, but unwilling to move and break the spell. Jack has to speak first.

“I think this may be the universe telling us to do this the proper way,” he muses, fingers stroking up and down your spine. 

“And what would that be?” you ask, the rise and fall of his chest gentle against your cheek. You like hearing his voice vibrate under your hand.

“Taking you out to dinner first. Bringing you flowers, but also some for your mom. Ordering two desserts - I don’t share when it comes to chocolate cake.” You smile at the picture he’s painting. “After we drive out where we can stargaze, and I can kiss on you some more. Then we go back to a nice hotel, and I make fantastic love to you until we can barely stay awake.”

Your cheeks heat pleasantly, placing a kiss to the center of his chest. 

“Then what? What comes next?” you ask, suddenly sobered. This wild night years in the making still feels like a dream. How could it be more than that?

“Well, you did say your mom and dad’s house was for sale…” he muses, hands slowing as you come to your elbows above him. “I might be in the market for a change.”

You watch the small tics in his face - his tongue darting wetly over his lips, the intensity of his gaze, his concerned brow - and find comfort there.

“There’s a house I’ve been wanting to buy for years. Might be a better investment if we both went in on it,” you say, with only a little waver in your voice. “You know, as partners.”

Jack nods, guiding your head down to his for another deep kiss, slow and thorough.

“I like that. Let’s talk about it over…let’s say seven to ten dates,” he says. You press your foreheads together.

“Deal.”

When you get back into your seat, rearranging your clothes and trying to look more presentable, Jack hums thoughtfully while pulling out of the parking lot.

“I can also take you to a little place nearby, quiet spot in the woods. I’ve got a blanket in the back I can put down in the trunk before I bend you over and eat your pussy until you’ve soaked my face.” Your heart and cunt spike at Jack’s wicked tongue curling around this fantasy. “Then when I’ve made you scream around my fingers - as loud as you like, no one will hear you - I’ll give you my cock and make you cum until you can barely walk. Maybe even let you ride this old cowboy so I can watch you bounce in the starlight. If I can keep my wits about me that is.” He shoots you a look, hunger and affection and desire and maybe something that can grow more than you ever dreamed. 

You quirk an eyebrow back.

“Why not both?”

Jack smiles, and you realize how much you missed it.

“That’s my girl.”

END

[hopeamarsu]

Whumpmas: Seven Swans A-Swimming

Falling Through Ice | Left in the Cold | The First Snow

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

Word count 644

Warnings: Freezing, coldness, numbness, threat of frostbite, loneliness

The snow around him creates an almost tunnel, the wind having picked up in the last hour Jack has been dredging through the snow. It reminds him of those old space opera movies and he’d laugh if he wasn’t so cold. His teeth chatter and he tries to pull the jean jacket around his body for more warmth but it doesn’t help. The ice has penetrated deep into his bones.

Jack blows on his numb fingers before tucking them under his armpits in an attempt to stop the possible frostbite forming. He tries to glance ahead but the wind and the icy cold snow make him drop his gaze quickly. He is just working on instincts now, trying to remember his way around this forest. 

He casts a fleeting thought to the Statesman blue snowsuit, missing its insulation and built-in tiny heaters but ever since getting cast out of the agency, he has also lost access to its supplies. Supplies he could desperately use by now. 

But the thugs weren’t too clever and Jack managed to hold on to some key pieces of his property after they dumped him by the side of the road and took his guns, his car, and his hat. He’s quite mad about the hat really, but it’s the least of his problems now. 

He’s most grateful to have held on to his lighter, his lasso, and the wound gel he snuck out of the lab before Ginger had him escorted out. It’s not perfect, but if he can find his way into the caves he thinks are nearby, Jack knows he has a chance. 

Finding a cave is his priority now. It should provide him with protection from the wind and if he is really lucky, the cave will have leaves or twigs or something to start a fire. But he’s not above burning some of the documents he’s carrying either. Warmth is warmth and there is no way he’s above destroying some evidence to ensure survival. And being disgraced, getting anyone to see his evidence is a long shot. So really he’d be doing the world a favor by burning them. 

There! 

Jack could cry with relief when he spots the dark opening, his aching muscles and soggy boots carrying him closer and closer. The wind is fighting back, as is the coldness settling in deep and he knows by the shivers that wrack his body, Jack doesn’t have any time to waste. He pulls on his final strength and keeps walking, the idea of fire and shelter clearing his hazy mind. 

The very first moment the wind is behind the entrance to the cave and he can breathe a bit easier, Jack activates his lasso to check his perimeter. It’s hard with fingers that tingle blindingly hot after being exposed for so long, but diligently Jack walks the small cave to see that he’s all alone. 

He sees a couple of rocks and some twigs lying around and picks them up. They are soon gathered into a pile and Jack picks up his lighter from his pocket with shaking hands. It takes him a few tries, the shaking worse and numbness setting in but he does succeed in the end. The twigs are dry enough and when the fire roars to life and Jack can scoot as close as he dares, the tears finally come. 

Jack doesn’t try to bother wiping them off, letting fat drops fall down his face as he looks around the cave, shadows and light dancing into a merry tune. He sees a few more twigs and makes a mental note to pick them up closer soon. But first he will enjoy the small fire and defrost himself. The tears continue to fall but the relief deep in his chest blooms high with hope. 

He’ll survive to see another day after all. 

* 

I hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading!

Everything taglist @clydesducktape​​ @themuseic​​ @miraclesabound​​ @a-true-janian-reply​​ @10blurredsmoke10  @caillea @mariesackler @princessxkenobi @gallowsjoker​

PPCU taglist @littlemisspascal​​

[toxicanonymity]

Thank you for all those fics babygirl, especially the Joel ones <3 would you ever consider writing Vampire! Joel x female reader where you're in his basement chained to the wall and he does disgusting things to you to a certain extent.. Thank you honey💗

the special one.

VAMPIRE JOEL MASTERLIST

3.5k, vampire!Joel Miller x f!reader / masterlist WARNINGS: I8+ big girthy age gap (Joel 400+ / Reader 20s-50s), dark fluff, Alcohol, drugging, kidnapping, chain/restraints, blood sucking, period cunnilingus (dubcon via captivity), jacking off, reader can menstruate. Toxic softdark.

You met him late one night when you were leaving a café. Your friends left first and went the opposite direction.  It was a dimly lit coffee house and bar.  All night, Joel was sitting in a round leather chair near the window wearing thick-framed glasses and an unseasonably cozy, dark brown cardigan with a standing collar.  He was reading a book and drinking a dark beer in a tall, narrow glass.  You had your eye on him and couldn’t help but admire the way his biceps looked so huge in his cardigan, and the sexy silver patches on the sides of his beard, and his perfect nose, complimented by his glasses.  He caught you looking a few times, but he never made it awkward. 

As you started heading toward the exit, he stood up, closed his book, and walked out the door.  He held it open for you.   “Hey,” he said softly.  He held his book under his arm with its spine facing you: Powers of Darkness.  He shyly dropped his head and looked up at you from under his brow, gazing over his glasses.  It gave you a good view of his beautiful mess of hair - mostly dark, with a flourish of salt and pepper.  He turned his head toward the street as he introduced himself.   “I’m Joel.”   

Joel offered to walk you to your car, and you accepted since it was so dark and you had your eye on him.  He wasn’t as shy once you started walking side by side.  His voice was deep but soft and soothing.  Smooth.  He flirted with you, asking what you were drinking, complimenting your choice of colorful puma sneakers with your black dress.  He said there was something about your energy.  He was disarming and didn’t come off as creepy.  As you walked through an alley together, you were admiring his hair, entranced by the beautiful glints of silver in the moonlight, when a huge rat scurried in front of you and into a drain.  You jumped and squealed.  

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” he chuckled and calmed you down with his hands on your shoulders. 

He kept gently rubbing your bare shoulders after you calmed down.  He gazed at you through his glasses with a glint of affection and your breath hitched.  He leaned in for a kiss that melted your mouth.   When he broke away after a few seconds, his eyes were dark with lust.  He backed you into the brick wall - not aggressively, but certainly not meekly.  Quietly confident.  He pressed his lips and hips into yours and a bulge in his black, soft-brushed khakis hardened against your dress, making you weak in the knees. No tongue, but he sucked your saliva into him and his lips felt like heaven.  

He pulled back and looked down and away.  “Sorry,” he muttered.  

“Don’t be,” you said.  “That was nice.”  He made eye contact with you, and you felt a rush of warmth.  

“Good,” he mumbled, but he didn’t take it further at that point. 

—-

When you got to your car, he kissed you again, then hugged you, and you felt his arousal against you, even harder, making you throb.  “You smell special,” he said, his voice deep and soft above your ear.  Then he dragged his lips down and kissed your neck lightly three times before he opened his mouth, his wet inner lips hitting your skin, making goosebumps prickle at the back of your neck.  He moaned into your skin as he sucked and you felt like you could have taken him against your car in that moment.  

He stopped and mumbled into your neck, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Your tone was sultry. “Really, don’t be.” His breath stayed on your neck, warm and humid. 

“Only gonna take a little.”

“What?”

His massive hand covered your mouth, and before you could try to scream, his teeth penetrated your neck.  It was deep and sudden, seizing your body with a paralyzing chill as you shrieked, whimpered, and gasped for air under his hand.  He pulled his head back after a few seconds and your blood trickled out one side of his mouth.  His eyes were dark.  He tilted his head at you, his collar brushing his jaw as he tongued the front of a sharp little fang to get the last of your blood.  You thought you were dreaming.  

He shyly dropped his head again. “Sorry, sweetheart.” 

You were speechless. 

“It was only a little,” he reassured you.  “You should be fine.”  There was a hint of shame in his face as his eyes faded back to normal behind his glasses.  “God, you sure are beautiful,” he gushed through half-lidded eyes. 

You were more flattered than you should have been. 

He leaned in for another kiss but you flinched and he stopped. “Yeah,” he shrank back.  “Sorry.”  

He walked backwards for a few steps, shoving his hands into his sweater. Then he turned around and disappeared into the night, the long cardigan trailing behind him.  You felt a little lightheaded and stayed leaning against your car, silently in shock, until you felt okay to drive. The lightheadedness faded quickly. 

The next couple of weeks were normal, but you thought about it every day.  If it weren’t for the puncture wounds and bruising on your neck, you would have thought you were going crazy.  Maybe you were - when you thought about the experience, you felt more aroused than afraid.  

—-

When you initially woke up captive a few weeks later, the last thing you remembered was Joel emerging in the same alley as you walked to your car alone after leaving the same cafe.  Your breath hitched at the silhouette of his standing collar and messy hair.  You froze as his big arms wrapped around you from the side.  He manhandled you into submission as he put a damp rag over your mouth.  

“Shhhh,” he said.  “Not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart.” 

When you woke up, your neck was sore and you were in the corner of a dark, half-unfinished basement, lying on a cold, coated concrete floor.  You were chained by your ankle with a brutally cold, metal cuff that rubbed on your skin every time you moved.  The chain was too heavy.  You were so weak from blood loss that even getting up to go to the toilet was a struggle. Despite the toilet being in range of the chain, it could take you thirty minutes to crawl over to it, taking multiple breaks to rest.  

The first time Joel came down to give you a meal, he saw you crawling toward the restroom. “Oh god,” he whispered with a genuine hint of horror in his voice.  “C’mere, I got ya.”  He helped you into the bathroom.  It didn’t have a door.  He helped you onto the toilet then stood in the door frame and looked away.  When you were finished, he helped you back to where you were lying against the wall.  He stood there with his feet spread and looked at you for a few seconds, one arm crossed in front of him with his other hand stroking one side of his beard.  His brows knitted with concern, and his eyes were watery.  

He left you your meal and came back an hour later with an old mattress covered by a fitted sheet with a faded pattern of Scandinavian tulips.  

“Thank you,” you told him, sincerely grateful for the relative comfort.  You were too frozen and afraid to ask for anything else yet. 

As soon as he left, you peeled back the fitted sheet to get inside and sleep.  It was cozy like a hug for a second before it popped off the mattress, but the loose sheet was still better than nothing.  

—-

You didn’t cause any trouble.  Joel brought you iron-rich meals to help replenish your blood.  In his eyes, it was an unfortunate situation for both of you, the fact that he needed you.  He couldn’t help it that there was something special about your blood.  It gave him a rush he’d never had before while feeding, and he lasted longer on yours than anyone else’s.  He felt much better, too. You should have felt good about what you were doing - helping him survive with less blood.  That meant hurting fewer people. 

—-

You examined where the chain met the concrete.  It didn’t look very old.  On the other hand, there was an area of crumbled concrete on the floor, as though someone had tried to dig out of jail with a spoon at some point.  You picked off small chunks of rock and used them to count the days you were down there. 

On the sixth day, you were sitting on the mattress against the wall with the sheet over your legs when Joel came down.  “Your days are here,” he said.  You were confused at first.  He took off his shoes and joined you on the mattress, folding his knees behind him and leaning on one hand, facing you from the side.  He was very close, less than a foot away. He slowly tugged the sheet off your legs and the chain caught his eye.  He whispered, “sorry,”  and got on his knees to get the key out of his pocket. “I’m  here,” he said reassuringly to himself as he unlocked it then pocketed the key again. 

He moved the chain out of the way and got closer to you again.  He sat back on his knees.  He took a deep breath, looking you over, then began to say, “If I take it from here. . .”  He put his hand on your lower abdomen. “I can go a little longer.  . . Before we have to, uh.” He reached up and caressed your neck, before dropping his hand back to your lower abdomen.  “If you’re okay with it,” he whispered, and caressed you there over your dress, making you tingle between the legs.  

“I don’t have it yet, my period."

“It’s there,” he nodded earnestly.  “It’s opening, getting ready to pour itself.” It was the strangest way of talking about the cervix.  He waited for you to accept what he was saying.  He looked at you with puppy dog eyes.  “Can I have it?” 

You studied his face.  He looked pale and the color of his lips was faded. Even his muscles looked somewhat deflated.  You felt bad for him.  

“How do I give it to you when it’s not coming out yet?”

His cheeks flushed with some color as his eyes fell between your legs where you were holding your dress down for modesty.    

“Oh,” you whispered. 

“I can make it feel good,” he promised.  

“Oh, uh, oh, okay.”

—-

He sat up and took off his cardigan. You couldn’t be sure if it was the same one as before, but it had the same style of standing collar.  It was dark brown with tiny flecks of lighter thread, possibly in different pastel colors if your eyes didn’t deceive you.  The basement was dim, and the most light it got was during sunset when the rays hit the tiny windows just right. It was almost a glare.   There was no clock and sunset could be any minute, but until then, it was dark. 

Joel folded his glasses and put them on top of the sweater. He was wearing a tight, tan, short-sleeve, soft-wash t-shirt.  His pecs stretched the front of it. He moved you into position, flat on your back.  “Try to relax, sweetheart.”   

Your knees were up and he was between your legs. He reached under your dress and gently pulled down your panties.  His eyes were black and shiny and he breathed heavier. He gently pushed your dress all the way up and out of the way.  His biceps flexed as he hooked his hands under your knees and over your thighs.  He took a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes.  

He kissed each of your inner thighs, then just above your clit.  You flinched in pleasure rather than fear, but he mumbled, “sorry.”   He looked up at you, and his silver beard glistened in the bright light of the setting sun through the high, horizontal window in the back corner. “Are you okay?” he asked.

He pivoted you on the mattress to get out of the light.  You got up on your elbows and nodded, “yeah.”  You hated to think it, but you were more than okay.  When his lips touched your skin, it started to feel like a real win-win.  

“I’m just gonna,” he whispered, then brought his hands to between your legs.  He spread your outer lips and saw how wet you were.  “Oh,” he whispered.  His tone became sexy.  “You are okay.”  He looked up at you darkly, with the hint of a smirk on one side.  “Ok, good,” he murmured to your dripping cunt.  

He licked a flat, wide stripe up your entire seam then suckled on your clit, looking up at you.  He took his mouth away to say “lay back, relax.”  So you did.  He got you warmed up, licking, sucking, and flicking his tongue. You moaned softly. 

“Gorgeous down here, too,” he said before digging in again. “God, you taste special.”

He plunged his tongue into your entrance, careful to avoid nicking you with his fangs.  They were curved into his mouth, which helped them not catch.  His massive hands dug into your thighs as he thrust his tongue into you. “Mmm,” he moaned.  He licked every crevasse of your folds and suckled at your clit again, then nudged your clit with his nose as he again penetrated you with his tongue.  He tongued into you, then deliberately nosed your clit, tickling you with his smooth, soft facial hair. You felt the suction of his nostrils against you - a strange feeling, but not at all bad.  

He pulled away and caught his breath.  “It’s so close,” he said.  “Almost taste it.”  He dipped his head again and planted a kiss on your clit.  “Think you can come? It might help.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just like that, more tongue.” 

“Perfect,” he whispered between your legs.  

He licked and sucked at you, then fucked you with his tongue.  You moaned as you got closer and closer.  He reached a hand up to your breast and you sighed.  He thrust his tongue into you harder, and your hips lifted into his mouth. “Mmmm, yeah,” he murmured while taking a breath.  He thumbed your clit as he sharpened his tongue and plunged it back into you. 

“Ohh,” you sighed, “gonna come.”  

He kept doing what he was doing, then he planted his mouth on your entrance and steadied your hips with his hands as your spine arched and you saw stars.  Your hips lifted into his mouth, and he held your thighs where they met your hips, keeping his mouth firmly planted around your seam at an angle, sealing it as much as possible.  As you rode your waves of pleasure, he put his tongue inside you and you clenched around it.  He thrust it into you, then withdrew his tongue and sucked harder than you could have imagined as your climax persisted. He sucked and licked and sucked, and finally he groaned, “mmmm,” into your cunt.  

He became more ravenous and you could tell he was getting what he was after.  He alternated sucking and lapping and when he came up for air, you saw it on his lips. Color was already returning to his face.  

“Taste so special, baby,” he sighed, then dug back in.  His nose nudged your clit as he sucked and moaned into you, and another climax was already building.  You sighed “ohh, Joel.”  

“Yeah,” he panted, and put his thumb back on your clit. “Come for me, baby.”  He thrust his tongue into you rhythmically, scraping out any blood he could reach, then surfacing to breathe.  “Fuck,” he panted into you inner thigh. “Taste so good.”  He was ravenous.  He sucked and used his tongue in a way you never dreamed.  Soon, you heard your moan echo off the walls as you started coming into his mouth again and he sucked full force. You finished coming, and he kept sucking. Tears sprang into your eyes with the overstimulation.

He plunged his tongue into you and swirled it around, raking for residual blood.  You began to cramp and reached for your abdomen “Oww,” you whimpered.  

His brow furrowed as he looked up at you with the silver in his beard and mustache tinged red.  “Oh no,” he said and massaged you through a few more cramps, then they died down. 

You sat up on your elbows and watched as he licked you clean of all the stray blood. He twisted his hips off the mattress and it was impossible to ignore the protrusion in his pants.  When he finished cleaning you with his mouth, he sat up on his knees and thanked you. He discreetly palmed his arousal. When your eyes followed his hand, he kept it there, the heel of his palm digging into his engorged package. His face flushed.  “This doesn’t always hap-.”  He cut himself off, shaking his head at the rudeness of referring to his other experiences.   “I mean, you’re really special.  You feel really good.”  He palmed himself again.  “‘Excuse me for a minute.” 

—-

Joel unbuttoned and unzipped his pants on his way to the restroom. You heard him spit in his hand.  He breathed heavily and moaned as he fucked his fist and spit every once in a while.  His sounds of pleasure made your core buzz for more.  “Ohh,” he moaned as his fist slid along his shaft.  “Fuck,” he panted.  Your nipples hardened again and you reached for a breast.  You squeezed your thighs together.  You wondered if he’d fuck you, but tried to suppress the thought.  You felt moisture between your legs. 

He spit again.  “Oh, fuck,” he panted as his breath became ragged.  You dipped a finger into yourself and looked at it - no blood, just arousal.  He sucked you clean and you wondered if your period was over before it began.  “Ohh, god,” he sighed, and the sound of skin sped up.  He breathed louder, then groaned as he came.  When he was finished, he sighed, “Ohhh,” in relief.  Then the water turned on for a minute.  

—-

When he emerged from the restroom, his facial hair was mostly clean.  He paused in the door frame.  “Sorry about that,” he said and looked down and away. “I can already feel it, sweetheart.”  You could see it, too.  

veins had returned to his hands and his muscles looked pumped compared to before. He looked alive, vibrant, even sexier than before.  

He put his glasses on, and got back between your legs then sat back on his heels.  He cupped your cheek, and looked deep into your eyes.  “Never felt like this before,”  he lamented.  “Never in all these years.” Your heart raced at the realization that he could be hundreds of years old. No wonder he was good. 

He looked regretful. “Hate it for ya, sweetheart.  But it’s our destiny.” 

“What is?” 

“You’re my One.”

“What,” you whispered to yourself.  

“We’re a pair,” he whispered and looked at you affectionately.  “You complete me.”  

You were disturbed by his delusions, and even more disturbed by the way your heart swelled at his words.  

He remained between your legs and put his hands down on the mattress on either side of your torso, scooting toward you.  He tried to kiss you, but you sucked your lips into your mouth then turned your head. 

He sat back and looked wounded.

You were incredulous.  “My purpose is to complete you?”

“And mine is to take care of you,”  he said and caressed your thigh. 

You were crushed at this world view.  A small, self-sabotaging part of you had to wonder if he was capable of change.  You scolded yourself for expecting more from a man who attacked you in an alley, kidnapped you, and was holding you prisoner in his basement. You allowed a moment of silence to pass, during which he curled up and laid his head on your lower tummy.  He looked up at you lovingly. That's what he wants? To take care of you?

“You’re not doing a good job,” you whispered and watched his face fall.  

He looked like he could cry.  You suppressed your satisfaction. He got up on his knees and looked around.  “Yeah,”  he admitted.  “Gimme a minute.”  

He stood up and put on his cardigan. He jogged upstairs, sweater flowing behind him, and came back with a warm washcloth, a blanket, some Advil, and water.  That felt like a decent start - the bar was truly in hell.

“Wanna take good care of ya,” he said as he cleaned his saliva from between your legs. He looked up with desperate eyes and said,  “Teach me.”

—-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! there is more vampire Joel. His masterlist is linked at the top of the fic.

If you like vampires: I have  vampire!Michael Myers one-shot here: Michael’s Castle.  Also, @atinylittlepain already had a great vampire!Joel drabble here: little pinch and has a vampire!cowboy AU now!

FYI: You can follow @toxicfics to turn on notifications, @toxicrecs for my fic recs.

-

[toxicanonymity]

can we have another sex pollen fic 🫣🫣🫣

picks up after Lazaretto where you were precautionarily quarantined together and subjected to a treatment that had a sex pollen effect on Joel 🥵. Check content settings if you can't see that one.

Lazaretto: Horny reader

1k / Joel x horny!f!reader

Warnings: Horny reader pressures Joel for sex as he struggles with guilt / fear. Jacking off. unsafe P in V sex. Prev story (referenced) was noncon. Unedited.

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

After Joel is seized by the fog and ferally pounds you, y’all still have another 24 hours in the tent together nearly nude before they’ll let you go. It's a long time to spend with someone in these circumstances. Long enough for you to recover and need more.

He’s traumatized by the experience, overwhelmed by guilt. You reassure him it felt good, as if he didn’t already know you came on his cock, but that doesn’t make him feel any better. He's torturing himself. He’s still feeling the fog, too, even though it’s faded.

He has a hard dick, but by now he’s regained enough control to restrain himself. He’s too ashamed to even relieve himself in front of you. Too ashamed or too afraid of what he might do. You spend most of the day pretending to nap so he can periodically jack off unembarrassed. He grunts and sighs as quietly as he can. You don't want him to know you notice, but it's the hottest thing you've ever heard, and the fact that he’s trying to be quiet only makes it hotter. The squish of his skin and his stifled sounds of pleasure have you starving for his cock.

You wish he’d just fuck you again. You’ve offered. You’ve asked. You’ve borderline begged. You want it that bad. You’re stuck in a tent, horny as hell, with Joel and his hard cock. What’s more, you’re aware of what he can do with it, and every few hours you have to hear him fucking his fist instead of your needy cunt. Your ass is sore, but your pussy wants more. The hornier you get, the more you lose patience. Finally, you’ve had enough and pretend to “wake up.” When you sit up on the cot and face him, he’s cowering on the floor pressing the heel of his palm into his aching member, with his eyes swollen from tears.

“I need something,” you say. “Anything.” You slip your hand under your gown and start touching yourself.

“Can’t give it to ya, sweetheart. It ain’t right,” he says for at least the third time today.

“No, Joel. God, I’m sick of hearing that.” You don’t stop touching yourself. "What ain’t right is you not giving me a choice right now. Gimme the choice you couldn’t give me earlier.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Get over here and lie down on the cot,” you tell him, your voice more gentle than the words. “Let me take what I need," you add.

He rubs his temples with the thumb and ring finger of one expansive hand. He shakes his head, then looks at the ceiling of the tent. A few seconds later, he hesitantly stands up with a groan like his whole body hurts. You avert your gaze from the considerable tent in his gown as he makes his way to the cot trying to hide it.

Joel lays down on the cot and says, "You don't have to do this. You really shouldn't." You feel a little bad for him, but you do have to do this. Your body needs it. In your mind, it will benefit you both. "I don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart. Get me started, I dunno if I can stop."

"Relax, Joel." You get on top of him and pull up his gown, your breath hitching at the sight of his commanding cock. You take your own gown off entirely, hoping the sight of your tits helps him get on board with this. You watch his face darken as you position yourself on top of him and both his hands come gently to your breasts.

"Fuck," he breathes as he palms your nipples with his tired eyes nearly closed. You notch the angry tip of his cock at your weeping cunt and he shudders "Ohh, God," pinching his eyes shut. His hands slide down to your hips then he opens his eyes again. As you begin to sink onto him, he pulls you down hard and lifts his hips, sheathing his stiff member in your warmth. He grunts and you sigh as you're impaled on his rock-hard length.

"Fuck, you feel good," he winces.

You lean forward and tilt yourself to press your most sensitive place against his pubic bone, softly cushioned by hair. You begin to move your hips, grinding against him and giving him space to rail in and out of you. His thick cock is hurried along by your ample slick each time he impales you. His eyes water, swollen and sensitive from his earlier tears, and his rough hands grip your ass harder. He kneads your cheeks and you wince in pain each time they spread.

Joel grunts and sighs as he buries his length in you. Your knees squeeze his broad torso as your clit begins to twitch. His face is overtaken by the inner animal again and he begins to rail you mercilessly, pulling you down harder each time he thrusts up into you. You lift up his gown and slide it up his torso, then rest your hands on his pecs for leverage. The sight of his scars and light chest hair make you weak and his firm pecs under your palms make you twitch more. You push your ass down and back as he fucks up into you.

You lower your torso against his, slipping your hands under his arms and resting them on the cot. With the added contact, you’re close to the brink. He plunges his thick cock into you for another minute, your walls gripping him each time he fills you up. You teeter on the edge of your climax, then he grunts loudly and pleasure seizes you, from your clit spreading inward, strangling his cock as you sigh. His nipples harden against your breasts and he shudders then explodes inside you with a long, low sigh.

You stay on his cock and he reaches down to the ground to pick up the blanket. He covers your bodies and you fall asleep with him inside you. Finally you both get some much-needed rest.

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339    @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy  

[toxicanonymity]

just the tip (really)

2.4k / Joel x f!reader / master list

A/N: This follows: Just the tip and surveillance.

Warnings: MDNI I8+. Angst. Handsy, horny, persistent manipulative, toxic Joel. Dubcon (high pressure, power imbalance), uninvited touching, jacking off, just the tip (literally) P/V. Reader blue balls. Pet names, praise. AU, you're a maid.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

As Joel's nose drags up the side of your neck, the strong suction of his nostrils makes your hair stand on end and your nipples harden. "Won't do anything you don't wanna," he murmurs into your hair as he gently cups your breast from behind. He bends his knees, one hand on your hip, the other still cupping your breast.  He presses the hard bulge of his pants into the back of your dress then drags it up your crack.  Arousal stirs madly between your thighs, and he knows it. "C'mon, sugar. Lemme make you feel good."

You close your eyes for a moment, then try to compose yourself. "Haven't finished the dishes," you say. 

-

You wonder if you’re being too hard on him. After all, you only had sex once. You never defined your relationship or even went on a date.  You were the one who pulled away afterwards, feeling self conscious and introspective.  As badly as you wanted to be filled by him again, you wanted him to love you first.  So you started declining his advances and he seemed wounded but didn’t press the issue or make you explain.  He might've thought he was respecting your space,  but meanwhile, you hoped he'd properly court you.  Instead, he just started keeping his hands to himself.  

It wasn’t long before you found a condom in his trash, and your chest physically ached at the sight. During the time you’ve been cleaning for Joel, you’ve seen women come and go from his house. None since he took your virginity on a rainy day in his living room, but seeing the condom was worse.  You didn't confront him about it, but he figured out what was bothering you. He never outright denied it, but at first, he asked why you assumed it was his. He didn’t use one with you. It was in a guest bedroom, not his.  The location didn't mean much, considering he'd never once done anything in his bedroom with you.   

Once he admitted it, he was apologetic.  He said he didn't think you wanted anything with him anymore. He was trying to be true to his word: before you agreed to just the tip that time, he promised if you didn't like it, he'd never ask you again. Since you pulled back afterwards, it seemed like you didn't like it.  Sex was a need for him.  He couldn't not get off.  By having meaningless sex with someone else, he was trying to help himself leave you alone.  You believed him that it was meaningless, but it still hurt. 

The same week as your talk, two hundred white roses were delivered to his house when you were there.  Your heart sank until you saw they were for you.  Then your heart slowly, begrudgingly warmed over the next few weeks.   Not because of the flowers, but his other little gestures.  He helped around the house, encouraged you to take breaks, said he just wanted to spend time with you, get to know you.  He ordered takeout, insisted you eat with him, then cleaned up after both of you. 

This is much closer to what you want, but you’re still trying not to go down this road again. Not yet, anyway. You no longer bristle at his touch - quite the opposite - but you don't want to be naive. 

-

Arms still wrapped around you, arousal pressed up against your dress, Joel takes the dish towel out of your hand and puts it on the counter. "Do 'em myself later," he murmurs.  It's sweet, but you're trying not to fall for his charm.  It's too easy to get emotionally invested.  He softly presses his open lips into your neck.

“I’d rather finish them now,” you say half-heartedly, and stop short of physically shrugging him off.  You don’t want him to stop, not really.  

"You're killin' me, baby," he murmurs into your skin as hand slides down your stomach, then between your thighs, and he ghosts your clit over your dress. He grinds his hard package into you and asks, "What do you want me to do with this, hmm?" His hardness makes you purr.  "Know you don't want me to stick it in someone else," he mutters.

"I don't know, Joel,” you say, quietly exasperated. Your eyes water. 

"Sorry," he says, composing himself. He backs away and leans against the counter.  "I’m an asshole.  It’s not your problem." He looks borderline embarrassed. You pick the rag up again, and he rolls up his sleeves as he watches you work. 

“You’re just so damn sexy,” he says, his voice returning to a hornier pitch as he leans against the counter on his forearm.  "You don't mind if I take care of myself, do you?" He lowers his head and devours you with his eyes from under his brows as he rubs his arousal over his charcoal pants. 

Your face heats up and your core tingles at what you think is a rhetorical question, but he expects an answer. 

"Of course not," you scoff quietly without meeting his eyes.  It feels like the only answer.

“Good,” he whispers, then slides back into your space.  “Sorry, baby.”  He hugs you from the side, and while he’s at it he rolls his hard-on against your hip and kisses your neck. "I was outta line talkin’ like that."  He backs off and pours himself a glass of whiskey.  Your eyes fall to the ample bulge in his slacks as he walks across the living room to put his drink down on the cigar stand and sit on the chaise. 

-

You try not to watch, but you have to face his direction as you finish the dishes.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel spit into his hand then wrap it around his thick cock.  His eyes bore holes in you as he slowly strokes himself. You tell yourself to go do another chore, but you can't pry yourself away when he's trying to do right by you.  Plus, you’d be remiss not to consider how hot it is watching him jack off.  So you continue the dishes, stealing occasional glances.  Surely he notices. 

"Come show me somethin', sugar," he pleads. "Don’t have to touch ya. . .’less ya want me to." He takes a deep breath as he watches you darkly and pumps his hard cock. Your body’s dizzy with desire. "gotta see that perfect pussy, baby.  All I need."

You force your eyes to look right at him and you wet your lips mutely in thought. 

“C’mon, sugar. You can have the chair.” He nods across the room, out of his reach. Then he gives you a look that manages to penetrate your wall.  Like you’re right back on the chaise with him inside you.  Like he knows you intimately.  Like you both know this is what’s meant to happen.

You find yourself slowly walking around the kitchen bar to the chair and sitting down. You tell yourself you’re in a position of relative power as long as you’re not physically engaged.  You can stand up and walk away at any time. You look at him shyly and watch his eyes scan your body.  He looks so hot with his brow furled, perfect cock in his hand.

“Can ya open those pretty legs for me, sugar?” 

You uncross them but hesitate to go further. 

"Can ya show me, baby?" His voice is weakened by want. "All I need.” 

You work up the courage to slowly spread your legs a few inches, but your dress still hangs between them and offers you some modesty.  “You don’t gotta wear those stockings here, baby.  Shit, wish you wouldn't wear anything under that dress.”  

You can’t take your eyes off his cock, and you’re salivating.  You slip your shoes off. 

“Yeah, go on, get comfortable,” he urges breathily.

With your arousal intensifying enough to take over, you reach under your dress and hook your thumbs into your stockings, then slowly pull them down and off, glancing up at him as you do it.  He groans softly.  Taking them off is a rush. You feel sexy and relatively safe, like it's a taste of the forbidden fruit without actually doing anything. 

“Yeahhhh,” he nods, eyes widening.  “Now lemme see somethin’, sugar." He spits in his hand again.  “Maybe just those gorgeous tits if you’re feelin’ shy?”  

You want to, but you’re frozen.  He waits patiently for a few seconds, then senses your nerves and says, “Lemme help ya, baby.” 

-

He stands up with his cock in his hand.  “Can I do that?”  You nod almost imperceptibly.  He strokes himself as he crosses the room. When he gets to your chair, he kneels on the floor.  “God, you're beautiful,” he whispers, entranced.

You’re as wet as ever when he asks if he can help with your dress.  You nod timidly.  He lets his thick cock hang heavily between his legs, over his pants, as he unbuttons your dress and spreads it open to show your bra.  He takes in a chest full of air as he admires the view. Then he spits in his hand again and resumes stroking himself as his free hand reaches for your bra.

He starts to slip a finger under a strap, and you begin to protest, “I-” 

“It’s okay, sugar, you can keep it if ya want,”  he whispers as he removes his finger.  “Can I see your panties?” he lightly pinches the hem of your dress and drags his fingers a few inches across the fabric as though examining the material. Your clit is throbbing.  

“Yeah,” you whisper.  Your knees are still spread from his initial instructions.  

“Just relax, baby.  It’s okay.”

He lifts your dress and inhales sharply through his nose when he sees the damp spot on your panties. “God damn, sugar. . .So hot, seein’ you wet for me.”  He’s drooling, almost literally.  The corners of his mouth shine. He gently nudges your knee and you open a little wider. 

“Can I see her, baby?  Just a little?” He looks up at you, his eyes begging for permission as his hand slowly moves up and down his cock.  If he touches you there, you’re a goner.  So you reach down yourself and pull your soaked panties to the side.  Joel groans at the sight and his eyes look weak.  “Just gorgeous.”

He spits in his hand again, then asks, “you know what’s a whole lot better than this?” nodding toward the spit in his hand before massaging it into his stiff, aching shaft.  "If you wanna help me out, I mean."

Your cheeks burn at the thought.  

“You can say no,” he reassures you.  “Or you can lemme get just the tip wet.” 

His eyes are so sad and desperate as he strokes himself. By now, you want his cock inside you more than anything. Your reservations are fading away, replaced by excuses for him. The fact that you see your resolve crumbling in real time doesn’t stop it from happening. The look on his face opens something inside you, like your body,'s making room for him. Creating a void only he can fill.

“Okay,” you agree.  

“Can I kiss you first?” He asks, which makes your heart flutter. 

“Yeah,” you whisper.  He kisses you tenderly, then long and deep, licking into your mouth affectionately, then hungrily.  Until now, you forgot how special it felt when your mouths were joined. He breaks the kiss and urges you to the edge of the chair.  Then he crouches down and leans over you, bracing himself with one hand on the backrest while his other hand remains on his cock.  The stretch of his long, strong arm puts his armpit near your head and gives you an arousing whiff of his natural scent and deoderant. You pull your panties more to the side and open your legs wider. 

“Good girl,” he whispers. 

-

You inhale his musk as it gets closer then the large tip of his cock nudges your entrance, and desire shoots through you, branching like lightning into every part of your body. Without a view of where your bodies meet, he drags the swollen head of his cock down, then back up, pausing to gently prod your entrance before dragging it up to your clit where you wonder if he can feel you twitch.  He returns the tip to your entrance, where he nestles it just inside your folds but doesn’t push in.  

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply as he stays there for a moment.  He rocks his hips ever so slightly, gently pressing the tip against but not quite inside your warm, wet hole.  Your body tries to grab him, but he drags up to your clit one more time, then exhales dramatically as he takes his cock away.   

It feels like such a loss. "I want it," you whimper. “I want it all.” 

He kneels in front of you on the floor. "I know, baby," he says soft and low, stroking himself with your slick.  "But we can't. Don’t want ya to regret it."  He’s saving you from yourself, and that only makes you want him more.  “Might break my heart if I lose ya this time,” he adds, giving you butterflies. 

Your eyes grow watery.  You fix your panties, then close your legs. 

“Baby," he breathes. "I want it so bad.” His expansive hand squeezes your thigh.  “Just want you to feel good about it.”  He wets his lips and his breaths become labored as he strokes himself with your slick.  His forearm flexes as he pumps himself. 

He shudders and sighs loudly as he tips forward and spills a huge, silky load onto the wood floor to the side of your feet.

-

You move to clean it, but he stops you.   He tucks himself away then gets a towel and cleans it up himself.  He stays there squatting for a moment, looking at you, then caresses your cheek. 

You sit there, face burning, clit throbbing for attention.  “Thank you,” you tell him.  

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he whispers gently. "You're doin' great, baby." He doesn’t make any move to pleasure you, but to be fair, you’re the one who closed your legs. 

“Listen,” he says, closer to his normal talking volume.  “I’ve gotta go out of town for about a week.  When I get back, how ‘bout we do somethin'?” He watches your face expectantly. 

Your face lights up and his eyes smile in response. 

“Yeah,” you say.  “I’d like that.” 

“And why don’t you stay here while I’m gone?”

You hesitate. 

“If you want a break from your roommates, I mean.  You can sleep wherever ya want.”

-------------------------

I have a vision for one more if there's interest 👀. As always, thank you so much for your support and engagement 🖤🖤

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joel master list

-

[toxicanonymity]

All Recipes

1.4k words / stepdad!Joel x f!reader

Joel master list

Warnings: I8+, stepcest, treating Joel like a piece of meat, mildly dubcon reader behavior, mutual masturbation, fingering, cum swallowing, kissing. I8+ MDNI

"You shouldn't dress like that if you don't want the attention," you say.

Joel looks up from the mixing bowl and scoffs. His short sleeves are almost cutting off his circulation as he begins to stir the casserole harder. "You're the one who shrunk my laundry," he says. "The mess you make when you're home for ONE week." He stares into the bowl as he stirs.

"The mess I make. . ." you look around his disaster zone of a kitchen.

He looks up. "You know damn well what I'm talkin' about." He puts down the rubber spatula, wipes his hands on his apron and shakes his head.

Your mom walks into the kitchen and grabs her keys off the wall. . . "What are you two bickering about now?"

"I tried to help with laundry and Joel's pissed that I shrunk his clothes."

"Give her a break, she was trying to help. We'll get you some more." She looks him up and down and adds "Kinda like it, actually. . ."

"Yeah?" Joel asks her saucily. "Got ten minutes?" Then he shoves his tongue down her throat and grabs her ass.

Your chest tightens. "Gross!"

Your mom breaks the kiss and clears her throat. "Wish I did."

-

Joel starts pouring the casserole into a dish, and he's getting it all over his hands as he tries to contain it to the pan. When your Mom leaves, you ask him, "What the fuck? What was that?"

He laughs, "That?. . . No, sweetie. What is this? Whatever you're doin'. . ."

"What, you want me to stop?"

He looks at you like it's a trick question.

"Didn't think so."

"I want you to tone it down. Damn." He wipes his hands on the apron and takes it off.

"Got somethin' for ya," you tell him. You reach under your short, jersey stretch skirt and step out of your thong, then slip it in the pocket of his joggers. His face reddens and he shakes his head. He backs away and leans against the counter.

"I'm tryin' to do somethin' here, do ya mind?" He leans with one elbow on the counter and studies his phone. His free hand rests at his groin and fidgets with his shrunken joggers right next to his considerable bulge. His hand is so masculine with its perfect veins. He has to know what he's doing to you. You stare and the corner of his mouth twitches. He forces the smile away. You can hardly stand how hot it makes you seeing his hand at his groin.

"Let me help," you say and come over to look at his phone. He smells like laundry and his own manly scent. You press yourself up against him and he's at least somewhat hard already but he turns his hips and rolls you off. You shift your attention to his phone.

"Really, Joel? If you're following All Recipes you're already screwed. You think she's not gonna know the difference?"

His fingers are getting sour cream all over his phone.

"Forgot where the damn recipes are," he says, looking around the kitchen. "Your mom said she already told me five times."

You roll your eyes. "You coulda asked me." You open the cabinet right behind him and he rolls his eyes at himself.

"Yeah and what would you make me do for it, huh? Too late now anyway." He puts his phone down, grabs the casserole dish with one massive hand, and goes to put it in the oven. When he bends over, his shirt leaves a sliver of soft, tan skin above his waistband and his ass looks delicious.

"Oh, now you're just trying to bait me," you say. He sets the temp and timer, and when he turns back around, his shirt has ridden up to show an inch of belly and he doesn't bother tugging it down.

-

He comes to the sink and you hop up to sit on the counter, short skirt and all. You intercept one of his hands and bring it to your mouth. You slowly suck the sour cream off each finger, making eye contact with him. When he breathes deeper, your arousal intensifies.

"I know why you won't touch me," you tell him.

"Doesn't take a genius."

"No. . ." You bring his hand to your breast for the first time and a trance falls across his face. "You don't wanna ruin my idea of how good you might be" you continue, and cover his hand on your breast with yours. "You think I'm just assuming you're so good at everything. . ." You massage your breast using his hand. "Don't want me to find out you're not." You use your dangling feet to try to bring his body closer, but he doesn't come.

"Tryin' to make me prove it?"

You open your legs.

"Jesus," he says, but doesn't look away. You drag his hand down your torso, over your skirt, then under it.

"Not happenin', sweetie," he says as he slides his hand up your inner thigh. Your skirt stretches over his hand as he reaches your pussy. His brow furrows as he rubs your wet folds. He inserts two fingers into you then finds your clit with his thumb and circles it lightly as he pumps his digits in and out of you. His chest expands with air. He palms himself with his free hand and a rush ripples through your body.

"What do you call this then?"

"Lube," he says, and frees his stiff member from his shrunken joggers. He cruelly takes his hand away and slickens his hard cock. He keeps his head down and looks up at you darkly as he begins to stroke himself. In a low, hushed tone he says, "I dunno what's gotten into you."

He keeps pumping himself, massive bicep flexing, ready to burst out of his t-shirt.

"I know you want to," you retort.

"You're playin' these games," he says, shaking his head.

"Yeah? What are the rules?"

He lifts his head. "Heh," he laughs. "Tryin' to drive me crazy. . ." His Adams apple hypnotizes you whenever he talks.

You can't resist touching yourself, watching his hand glide firmly up and down his perfect shaft. You don't know what's hotter - his hand or the dark look on his face.

He brings his hand back between your legs to gather more lube and his breath becomes shaky. His hand returns to his cock and he grunts as he jerks it. You need his cock in your mouth so badly. His face looks like he's close to coming.

You slide down off the counter and kneel. He moans and pumps himself faster. Then, right when he's about to come, you open your mouth and he finally lets you have it. You suck the firm tip of his cock into your mouth just in time for his salty spend to shoot into the back of your throat. You suck and he groans as he empties his balls into your mouth. As soon as he's finished, he puts it away then crouches down and looks you in the face like he's about to say something mean then walk away, but as you're admiring his face, something in it changes.

He engulfs your crotch with his hand and helps you to your feet then pins you against the counter. He rubs you in just the right way, and the light pressure of his thick middle finger does something special. He thrusts two fingers up into you again and says "This what you're lookin' for?" as he curls them. He's just showing off.

In no time, you're seeing stars, clenching around his fingers, moaning, "Jo-"

A hand around your jaw cuts you off as your climax goes on. His eyes are dark and he growls, "told you not to say my name like that."

His face is an inch from yours. You read each other's eyes, then his snarl fades and his grip loosens. Your face drifts toward his, and he doesn't pull away. When your lips meet, he moans softly into your mouth, offering his tongue which you hungrily accept. He takes his hand out from between your legs and leans into you with his whole body. Your faces don't separate for a good fifteen seconds.

Then he releases your mouth and mutters, "Fuck."

-

Click the #stepdad!Joel☠️ tag on this post for prev. stories w/ the same Joel/reader: Instagram, Snapchat, and Uber.

Next up: Fandango

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! I appreciate every comment and reblog 🖤.

PLEASE CHECK YOUR CONTENT SETTINGS. My posts seem to get flagged very quickly now even if they aren't explicit (like lincoln 1) so if you don't want to miss anything, you might want to follow me and check my profile regularly (filter to "my fics" from my header) or get on the joel tag list.

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339  @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro

Sorry I messed up my tag list initially.

[toxicanonymity]

can you do really like possessive joel. like she posts a pic of herself in a skin tight dress or bathing suit and joel literally makes her delete it. joel would be like “why should anyone else but me see that?” or he’s like “are u upsetting me on purpose, baby?” ykwim like manipulating possessive joel

Snapchat

1.1k, stepdad!Joel x f!reader

stepdad master | joel master

SUMMARY: You snapchat Joel some steamy videos and his responses are sexy. Then you show up at his house and before you go inside, you post a pic on insta that he thinks should be just for him.

NSFW 18+ big girthy legal age gap, possessive!Joel, sexting, stepcest, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, angst/guilt

A/N: Comes after Instagram, but can be read alone. NEXT: Uber

After you caught Joel jerking off to your instagram and made him finish in front of you, you texted him, “no one uses instagram anymore. you should get snapchat” and gave him your username.  

Now, a few times a week, you’ll snap him something sexy.  It's nothing explicit, just enough skin to drive him crazy. More skin than instagram.  His reaction is always hot.   Sometimes just a chat like “wish I could put my head between those legs” or “why do you have to be so goddamn hot?”  Sometimes a selfie with that dark, horny look in his eye.  Or a POV shot of a bulge in his pants. One time he sends a video  where he’s just shaking his head slowly and says “you dunno what you’re doin’ to me baby,” then takes a deep breath and says “god damn,” and his arm starts moving slowly with his hand off screen in his lap. 

He doesn't realize you can see his screenshot activity until you tell him and he responds with a 😳. That sets off an ongoing casual text dialogue, and it would feel like you’re “talking,” if it weren’t for him being married to your mother. 

You frequently think about his cock, and his hand wrapped around it, and the hunger in his eyes as he looked at you.  Even more than that, you think about the way he helped you finish without even touching you.  Especially the way he rubbed his own inner thigh.  Almost every time you come, you end up thinking about his big veiny hand slowly stroking his pants right next to his package, eating you with his eyes while he watches you touch yourself.   

-

Thinking about it isn’t enough.  You need him to touch you, and you want to find out whether he needs to touch you just as bad.  You stop sending him sexy pictures on snapchat.  He’s a little needy but you don’t relent. You stop by their house when you know he’ll be alone, and when you get there, you post a swimsuit picture to instagram.  When you go inside, he’s in the office and has your instagram pulled up.  You lean against the door frame wearing the same swimsuit under a long cover up.    

He turns around and says, “What is this about, sweetie?”

“Thought you liked seeing me.”

“Does everyone have to?” he asks.  He’s trying to be nice but he’s annoyed. 

“Why do you care? If you can’t touch me, no one can even see me?

He sighs.  “So you’re punishing me for not cheating on your mom?”

You walk into the office and lean against the wall to his side. “It’s a picture.  What’s the big deal?”

He gets up from the chair and your eyes fall on the bulge in his pants as he walks toward you and doesn’t stop until he’s right up against you, poking you with his hard package, sending a bolt of desire right through you.  He brings his lips to your ear.   “This what you want? You’ve made your point. Now delete it.”   He goes back to the desk and sits down. 

“Delete it or what?”

“Or this is over. No texting, no snapchat. If you’re not mature enough not to punish me. . .”

Your face burns. How dare he. . . 

“You can delete it yourself,”  you say.  “If you rub one out right now.”  You take off the swimsuit cover up, slip off your sandals, and sit on his desk right in front of him.  

He looks back and forth between your breasts then down your body.  “You’re tryin’ to kill me.”  

He leans back in the chair and his hand rests right against his inner thigh, giving you a Pavlovian burst of arousal.  Your clit twitches.   

He frees his stiff member from his pants and holds out his hand for you to spit in. Filthy.  You grab his hand and lick it instead of spitting on it, then take his fingers into your mouth two at a time and suck before finally spitting in his palm.  

“We both know you have lotion down here,” you say. 

“He glares at you as he pumps himself slowly.  You  lean back on his desk, and he inhales deeply.  He rolls the chair back, either to get a better view or because he doesn’t trust himself.  

You clench your thighs. 

He asks, “you’re not gonna . . . ?”

“Do you want me to?”

“You know damn well I do.”  He keeps choking his hard cock, devouring the view.    

You slowly ghost your clit over your bathing suit. 

He breathes heavily, moans, and his eyes seem a little heavier with each stroke.  “Show me,” he says.” 

You pull your swimsuit to the side, partly exposing yourself, and glide your fingers up and down your wet seam, poking under your swimsuit.  He groans and looks like he could cry.   You spread your legs and expose yourself entirely.  

“Fuuuck,” he exhales and looks to the ceiling for a beat before returning his gaze between your legs where you’re stroking yourself with two fingers.  He scans your entire body then says, “put one in.”

“No,” you reply.  

“You get off on bein’ a brat?”

“Want a finger in me that bad, do it yourself.”  You slide down so you’re leaning against the desk, still partly on it, stroking your wet folds and clit, getting so wound up you can hardly stand not having his hands on you.  

He stares at you for a long ten seconds, chest rising and falling, his strokes becoming faster.  Meanwhile your own climax is looming closer and larger every minute.  

“Fuck,” he says with resignation in his eyes. He stands up, steps forward and his free hand engulfs your dripping seam while he inhales your hair and stands right up against you.  He rubs your slick, throbbing cunt with three flattened fingers as he pumps himself with his other hand.  You tilt your head up to watch his brows furrow even more.  He plunges a finger into you, and right away he shudders as his cum spills into his other hand.  He curls his finger inside you and his thumb works your clit and it doesn’t take long until you’re clenching around his one, thick finger, saying “Ah, fuck. . . Joel, yeah. . .”

“Don’t say my name like that," he pants and reaches for a tissue.  

Your temples feel weak. 

“. . .I won’t ever stop hearin’ it.”  

You put your cover-up back on.  

He sits down in the chair, looks at the ceiling and says, “Damn it.”  

“What?”

He bows his head and slowly shakes it. He won't look at you.  He doesn’t have to say it.  You try not to think about it. 

True to your word, you pull up the instagram photo and hand him your phone.  He checks the likes on the picture and goes to every guy’s profile.  His eyes darken.  

“Guess you’re right,” he admits.  “Don’t want anyone else to have ya. . . ”  He deletes the picture and looks at you regretfully, making eye contact for the first time since he finished.  “I know it’s not fair.”  He hands the phone back.   “I dunno what to tell ya, sweetie. . . I’m sorry.”  

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime  @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose

[toxicanonymity]

Uber

1.1k / stepdad!Joel x f!reader

#3 in stepdad AU | joel master SUMMARY: When you're drunk, you call Joel instead of a ride share to pick you up, and you try to tempt him on the way home. WARNINGS: I8+ Reader kinda softdom, girthy age gap, brief degradation, stepcest, drunkenness, groping while driving, panty gagging, fingering, mutual masturbation, panty stealing.  

A/N: @megangovier20 inspired his glasses look, and the original post. This is #3 in the AU. Read alone or after Instagram and Snapchat. NEXT after Uber: All Recipes.

---

“God, you’re a mess," he says with his arm around you, helping you walk straight.  "How much have you had to drink?” 

“I dunno,” you shrug. “Few shots.”  It was at least your third when you had the bright idea to text him instead of a ride share.

He grits his teeth then adds,  “And why are you dressed like a fuckin’ hooker?”

He looks like a whore himself. Well-fitting joggers, tight white T-shirt, muscles bulging out everywhere, glasses, bed head.  God, he looks hot. Ugh.

You're falling all over Joel as he opens the door to his truck and has to physically help you into the seat.  You’re playing it up with the hope that Joel feels bolder with you drunk off your ass and away from the house.  You’re home for Thanksgiving. It's a tradition to stay over for the week even though you don't live that far. He's been obnoxiously well behaved and smug about it.  The tension is killing you at every meal.

As he gets you situated, he pushes your legs in to close the door and his hand lingers on your thigh.  You flash your eyebrows and bite your lip.

“I think you like it,” you say, looking him up and down.  How is he so hot?  “and at least you know I’m not takin' anyone home,” you mumble and he walks around to the driver’s side to get in.  Meanwhile, you fold up the center console and slide over into the middle seat.  

-

“Fuck me,” he mutters when he sees you moved. 

"Yes sir," you say, reaching under your skirt to roll down your slutty stockings and take them off entirely.

"C'mon now. . ." He says, then looks you up and down as he buckles his seatbelt. "Christ, you're tryin' to kill me."

He pulls out of your friend's neighborhood and takes a dark backroad. He takes a sharp turn and you fall over him. He shrugs you off. "Put your seatbelt on.” 

You don't. 

"Damnit." He reaches over to grab the lap belt and you seize his big, veiny hand while it's close to where you need it. He resists but just barely.  Far, far less than his strength would allow. You hold his hand on your thigh.

"Not like you haven't touched me," you say. 

"For two seconds," he justifies to himself.

"You want it as bad as I do." You slide his hand between your legs. Then you you rub your balled up stockings into his nose and add, "I know you've been thinking about it."

He takes a deep breath and his eyes darken, then you put the stockings away.

He says, "You're filthy. You know that?" He cant help himself now. Reluctantly, he cups your bare, wet pussy and begins stroking you up and down. 

Your hips rock into his practiced hand and you counter, "what does that make you?" 

He plunges his middle and ring finger inside you, stroking you gently. Just enough for him to feel it. Not trying to get you off.  Probably trying to memorize the inside of your cunt for the next time he jacks off to your Instagram. 

You ride in silence for a minute while he fingers you.

Then his head falls back against the headrest and his mouth falls open.   He curls his fingers and moans as he really starts fucking you with his thick digits. 

You lean over and grab the thick, rock-hard bulge in his joggers, and he groans. His hips lift into your palm and you push back.  His hardness gives you a shock of arousal.  You turn your whole body toward him and slip your hand into his joggers, massaging him through his boxers.  You feel a sliver of his smooth shaft and reach into the hole, finding his tip where precum is beading. It's the first time you've touched his cock and having it in your hand gives you a desperate need to have it other places.

You begin to lower your head to his lap and he shakes his head, "No, uh-huh sweetheart." He takes his hand out from between your legs.  His wet fingers grab your wrist and take your hand out of his pants.  He throws your hand back into your lap as he turns into the neighborhood.  "Not goin' there."  You can't help but think it's a matter of time.  His boundaries started out with hesitancy to jerk off in front of you. Then quickly crumbled to no touching.  Now you're at hands only? With a brief backtrack into no touching. Out of guilt, you imagine. 

-

After parking at the house, he doesn't open the door for you or help you out of the truck. He walks toward the house alone, irritated and determined to stay strong.  

Then you stumble out of the truck and fall on the driveway. 

"Damnit," he says under his breath.  He comes back and helps you inside and upstairs to your room.  You can't help but reach for his cock again on the stairs and he whispers "I swear to god."

If you respect this boundary it might give him the reassurance he needs to push it further next time. 

He helps you into your room and you shut the door behind him. 

"Okay fine, no touching," you relent in a whisper, adding, "sorry, I'm wasted." You're not sorry, you just need his trust.

You lay on your bed and get out your vibrator. "Let's just finish real quick," you tell him.  He sits down at your desk and takes his cock out in silence. He strokes himself and wets his lips as he watches you. When his lips part you worry about his moaning. 

"And keep quiet for once," you say. You get up and stuff the stockings in his mouth and his face looks painfully aroused. 

You turn on your toy and lock eyes with him as he jerks himself off. You want to edge yourself but there's no way you'll last long unless you close your eyes.  You can't physically pry your eyes away from him in his glasses with your stockings in his mouth. 

His nostrils flare as his breathing gets heavier.  His masculine knuckles hypnotize you as his hand moves up and down his length.  His eyelids droop. His neck flexes. His t-shirt stretches. He moans into your stockings and you begin to come. You close your eyes, then as you're riding your orgasm and soaking your comforter, you open open your eyes just in time to see him get up from the chair and cross the room.  You turn off your toy.  He pumps himself just twice more, then aims at your cleavage and comes all over you with a muffled groan.  

When he's finished, he takes the stockings out of his mouth and pockets them.  Then he grabs a tissue from your nightstand and throws it at you. 

On his way out, he says, "get an Uber next time."  

-

This is the third of the series, scroll to the top for links. Fourth coming some time between 5/2-5/7. No tag list for this Joel sorry

Glasses look from @megangovier20 who also caused the original stepdad story (Instagram) with an ask.

-

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339  @manazo @wolvesandvampires 

[toxicanonymity]

Good Morning darling, just wanted to say that you're such a talented writer! <3 these Joel fics are top notch 👌💗 but could you please write Joel miller X f| reader who enjoys spying on Joel while he masturbates she doesn't do it all the time just slips buy her mother's place and she wasn't home that day so the reader sneaks upstairs and just listens to his sultry moans😏thank you!!💗 The amount of support you give me is much appreciated btw!!✨love yah! X

Instagram

1.2k, stepdad!Joel x f!reader

Stepdad master list

WARNINGS: I8+ big, girthy legal age gap, stepcest, mutual masturbation.

A/N: Well this exploded out of my fingers. I had to take it a little further than just listening. . .

-

Starts at 18, flashes forward to present day.

Senior year of high school, just after your 18th birthday, your Mom went out of town and left you with your stepdad. They married when you were a teenager, so you always just called him Joel. One night, you heard painful sounds coming from the office. You called out to ask if Joel was okay, but he didn’t answer. When you went to check, the door was open and he was wearing headphones, watching porn on the computer. His arm was moving and there was no mistaking what he was doing.

His grunts and moans made you tingle between the legs, you couldn’t help it. You stood there and watched until he seemed to notice you in the reflection. Then, you quietly disappeared before he could turn around. You lurked in the kitchen and based on what you heard, he didn’t stop. He came loudly soon after you walked away.

You thought about him differently after that. You thought about that night, wondering if he was watching you in the reflection, if he ever would have stopped or turned around or was getting off on the idea of you hearing him. You thought about him sexually. Quite often. A flip switched and he was suddenly so hot to you.

-

Now it’s been years since you lived at home, but you still drop in every once in a while, and every time, you find you’re still attracted to Joel. You’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but your intuition tells you it’s mutual. So when you go by your Mom’s house and she’s not home, you drop in anyway. Joel’s car is there. When you walk in, you call his name, and he doesn’t answer. He's not in the backyard, either. You wonder if he’s out for a run, then you hear him upstairs and the sound takes you right back to that night in high school.

You creep up the stairs, careful to skip the creaky step, and as you get closer to the bedroom, his grunts and heavy breathing send a rush of blood to your loins. You stand where you are and just listen while your panties get wet. Your hand creeps up your shirt, under your bra, and you clench your thighs together. Your need for him bubbles over until it forces your hand into acting.

You step away from the bedroom out of sight, and loudly call “Joel??”

He says “fuck” under his breath, then “just a sec!” You don’t give him too long, just a second or two, then approach the door. He’s flustered, panting, and his face is pink when he says “didn’t know you were comin’, sweetie.” He only turns around half-way and his hand rests in his lap where you see a definite tent in his joggers. He catches you looking, then his eyes scan your body and he wets his lips.

You walk in, take off your shoes, keeping an eye on him. Then you lie down on the bed and face him. The laptop is mostly closed, but even from the bed you recognize your Instagram and a bolt of arousal shoots through you.

"Don't let me interrupt," you say and raise an eyebrow. You take off your cardigan.

"You're not," he says.

"Oh, okay." You come over and put your hands on his shoulders and look down in his lap. Then you lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek. "What are you looking at there?" You nod to his laptop.

He closes it, then turns around to face you, and you go back to the bed. He puts his elbows on his knees and says, "Whatcha doin' here, sweetie? Somethin' you need?" His eyes darken as he scans your body again.

"Somethin' I want," you say and wet your lips.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, then adjusts himself. "And what's that now?"

". . .to watch you finish," you say.

His chest rises and falls and he raises his eyebrows. Then his eyes fall to your chest and he palms himself. God, he's hot. The look on his face makes you even wetter.

You slip your hand into your pants as reassurance that it's not a trick.

He watches you touch yourself for a few seconds, slowly palms himself with his big, masculine hand, then says in a hot, low voice, "This never happened."

You nod. You're throbbing.

He sits back in the rolling chair, facing the bed, and pulls his joggers down, freeing his cock as he wraps one hand around it. It's nice and thick. Already shiny with lube. The hair is neatly trimmed.

"Watch me finish. .. okay." He licks his lips. "Won't take long," he says and starts stroking himself slowly, eating you alive with his eyes.

You rub your clit, massage your breast, and bite your lip as he pumps his rock-hard length while he looks at you. It's less than a minute before his breath becomes labored and he grabs a tissue from the desk. His eyes are glued to you. You're getting close yourself and ask if he can hold off, but he can't. He was almost finished when you got there.

His face screws up and he loudly groans as his cock erupts into the tissue. His head falls back with a look of relief as he finishes. "Sorry, sweetie."

"So what are you gonna do about it," you challenge him as you touch yourself, panting, eyelids heavy.

"Nothin' at all," he says. "Not crossin' that line." He shakes his head and looks like he means it.

You scowl.

"I can tell ya what i'd like to do about it though," he says. "I'd like to come right over there. . . climb on top of ya. . . . Yank those pants off. . .maybe pull down your pretty little panties with my teeth." He licks his teeth.

You can feel your orgasm building.

"Pin your arms above your head so you can't touch yourself. . . That'd be my job," he says, and looks down at his big masculine hand. He flattens three fingers.

You're throbbing madly and feel it coming.

He puts two of those fingers in his mouth and pretends to suck them clean while his horny eyes bore a hole in you.

"Then?" You ask between heavy breaths.

"Well then I've got somethin' else to put between those pretty legs of yours. . ." he says and looks down at his big, veiny hand resting right at his crotch.

You catch yourself holding a breath, then release it. He looks down at himself, then at you, and when he begins to slowly massage his inner thigh, it puts you over the edge.

You moan and your spine lifts off the bed. Your ass digs into the mattress and you're overcome by the most powerful climax you've ever felt and you're shocked to find yourself squirting into your hand. A little smirk creeps up one side of his mouth as he watches you ride your waves. Then, once you catch your breath, he gives you a tissue.

He asks, "Like what you saw?" with a quick raise of his eyebrows. Then the garage opens and you quickly go to your old room.

-

no need to keep track of how many times we force or persuade someone to jerk off around here lmao.

-

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione