#chloeangelic

[chloeangelic]

update 3/26/24

Hey, long time no speak! I’m here to quickly inform you all about two things:

1. I have permanently removed all of my writing from here because I’m getting increasingly freaked out by chatbots, tumblr farming content (as if opting out will do anything), and all other creepy and nefarious use of AI to steal writers’ work. Writers and other creators are treated like absolute shit on here and I feel too protective over my own work. A lot of my masterlist also didn't feel representative anymore, and knowing it was all here was making it harder to write. I’ve felt sort of chained to my tumblr account, so for my own psychological wellbeing I just have to cut it off. 

My current writing is on my AO3 and I am regularly updating it there, however a lot of my old stuff has been privated cause I’m not happy with it at this point. I have backups of everything, so if there’s a specific piece of writing you miss and that you can’t find on my AO3/you can’t access AO3, please message me on discord at chloeangelic and I will make it available for download/send you the file! 

2. I will not be returning to this tumblr in any capacity, not now and not in the future. I will not stick around to answer messages either, so if you’re reading this and want to talk, I have logged out permanently, and the only way to get in contact with me is on discord or in my AO3 comment section. I go back and forth on deactivating this account, and it might happen in the future, so be prepared for that possibility. 

In case you didn’t know I left tumblr and you’re feeling like the pikachu meme right now, feel free to read this. 

I hope you’re all having a great year, and I’ll see you on AO3! <3

[noxturnalnymph]

Birthday Surprise

dbf!Joel x f!Reader

(1153 words)

Summary: Your birthday celebration with your hot DILF neighbor/dad’s best friend takes a bit of a strange turn.

(Happy Birthday @chloeangelic ily)

A/N & Warnings:  SMUT ahead. MDNI. This is dbf, so all the shit that goes with that whole thing. This is unhinged....... I apologize for nothing.

The first thing you notice is the warm glow of the fireplace. You don’t remember who started the logs burning but the flames cast an orange glow on the room, filling it with a familiar smell and the sound of crackling wood. You can hear your mother humming in the kitchen, working to finish the celebratory meal. 

Suddenly, your dad, uncle, and your neighbor Tommy all jump off the couch, cheering the Cowboy’s tenth touchdown of the game, high-fiving each other. Your dad and your uncle chest-bump each other like teenagers. Tommy stretches his hand over to high-five his brother, Joel.

Joel, who lives in the house next door. Joel, who is one of your dad’s closest friends. Joel, whose lap you’re currently sitting on. Joel, whose cock you’re currently warming.

Your dad makes a comment about the other team’s weak defense and it’s met by grunts of approval from everyone, and laughter at the other team’s coach. He looks around and points finger guns at everyone, asking if anyone wants another beer. Joel removes his left hand from under your shirt and waves it in your dad’s direction.

“I’d love another one, thanks Jim.”

“I gotcha Joel, don’t get up!” your dad giggles as he leaves the room.

Joel puts his hand back under your shirt, calluses gently scratching your soft skin, his warm palm back at home cupping your breast. You aren’t wearing a bra of course, Joel had told you not to. He also bought you a little pink sundress and told you to wear it with no underwear beneath it. Of course you obeyed. You’d been obeying him for months and he never steered you wrong. 

You hiss as he pinches your nipple, causing your cunt to clench around his thick member. He groans loudly in response, moving his hand to repeat the motion on your other nipple in an attempt to elicit the same response. It works. He is still moaning when your dad comes back in the room, hands full of beers. 

Your dad hands a fresh beer to each man and brings the last one to the chair you and Joel are sharing. He grabs Joel’s empty bottle out of the cupholder on the armrest and replaces it with the new, cold beer, so Joel doesn’t have to move his right hand from its current position under the front of your skirt.

“Thanks Jim,” Joel smiles up at your dad appreciatively.

“Anytime, buddy,” your dad smiles back, clapping Joel on the shoulder.

The game starts back up and you grab the beer, gently placing it against Joel’s lips and letting him take several pulls from the bottle. He rewards you by gently tapping his hand against your clit. It’s not meant to be pleasurable but you enjoy it all the same, knowing Joel will reward you later for behaving. You try not to whine as you constrict around him, your pussy stuffed full of him and yet still famished, your wetness running down his length and pooling at his base.

You hear your mom call everyone to dinner and you expect to hear the men protest but you look at the TV and notice the game is over and the Cowboys have won 79-3. Tommy comes and stands in front of the chair, putting his hands under your arms and lifting you off Joel’s lap like you’d lift a toddler. The squelching wet sound can barely be heard above all the shuffling feet making their way into the dining room.

Joel hastily tucks his cock back into his pants and follows as Tommy carries you on his hip like a child. When you get into the dining room you see everyone is already sat down and gathered around the table. Your mom and dad, little sister and big brother, uncle and three aunts, seven cousins, and even Chloe - the yellow Lab you had when you were nine is there - sitting at the head of the table.

The table is spread with all of your favorite foods, a glazed ham, roast turkey, stuffing, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, Red Lobster cheddar bay biscuits, pad thai, baja-style fish tacos, chik-fil-A nuggets, and a tiered cake. You think your mom has probably been cooking for days to create this meal. 

Tommy sits you down in a high chair at the other end of the long table, opposite Chloe. You feel warm hands wrap around your body and tuck a napkin in the front of your shirt and you realize the high chair wasn’t a chair, it was just Joel’s lap again. Tommy pushes the ornately decorated cake closer to you and lights the candles atop it.

Everyone starts to sing happy birthday to you, even Chloe. Joel wraps his arms around you and whispers “Happy Birthday Babygirl” in your ear. You feel his stubble scratch against your cheek and you simultaneously feel his trimmed pubic hair against your other cheek, realizing he’s got his massive fat cock crammed back inside you.

Your mother is crying happy tears and your cousins are cheering and throwing confetti while Chloe - with her beautiful blonde hair - continues the birthday song with a verse of “how old are you now?” You lean forward to blow out the birthday candles and the movement causes Joel to orgasm inside you. He grips you even tighter, holding you down, as the force of his ejaculation threatens to propel you off his lap.

You feel his hot spend coating your walls, filling you up, overflowing out of you. You can hear it dripping off his lap and hitting the floor. Then Tommy leans in close and slaps you in the face. Hard. Then another slap, this time even harder. 

You hear your mother louder now, wailing above Chloe’s song. The confetti is piling up on the table, coating all the food. The candles drip wax onto the birthday cake, which you know must be Devil’s Food Cake, your favorite. Joel’s come puddle is coating the floor, rising and getting everyone’s shoes wet. Tommy slaps you one more time.

You blink and refocus your eyes, staring at the face of a woman named Brenda. You think her name is Brenda, because that’s what her name badge says. You move your arm to fix your bangs, which Brenda messed up when she slapped you, but your hands are bound. Joel’s arms must be around you too tight. Oh wait, you’re wearing a straightjacket.

“Stop screaming you little weirdo,” Brenda hisses in your ear, “or I’ll dose you up so much you’ll be drooling in that pillow the rest of the day.”

She shoves your head away, catching you off balance and sending you clattering to the floor. The small TV mounted to the wall high above you plays another Looney Toons cartoon as you fade back into your dream-like state. You were about to eat your birthday cake!

🎂

😈

🎈

[encasedinobsidian]

calling all Love Me Back readers!! ♡

i've gone back and rewritten some of the series, reformulated a bunch of stuff and fixed a lot of the formatting to allow for a much smoother reading experience. if you liked the series the first time around, i'd say it's worth a reread to see the changes ♡

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

j*el miller x reader ☁︎ completed ☁︎ 10 chapters ☁︎ 82k words ☁︎ smut/angst/fluff

summary:

You chase perfection until you meet Joel, fall for him, and meet your mirror image in his ten year old daughter.

The story of a man who yearns for deep love, a little girl who needs a rolemodel, a bunch of sea creatures, and you — whoever it is that you actually are.

read on AO3 here

[macfrog]

Father Joel says he's been out in a storm all night and he's wondering if he can take shelter at your place and says you're looking mighty fine this evenin'

just call me macflustered

[toxicanonymity]

What the actual fuck!!!!! DON'T tell Lincoln ok I do NOT want this man's 🍆 snaps on my phone

Where's my scary old man??? Tell him to come pick me up 😫😫😫

reader, help! chloe doesn't want his giant load all over her phone and he needs somewhere to put it.

BUZZFEED LINK

[pattwtf]

Ok so Im starting tonight SOF by @macfrog and @chloeangelic 's Stepdad!Joel... Been waiting soooo long for this moment... And it's tiiiime

[hier--soir]

i would like to hear more about these abby fics please

of course🧍🏼‍♀️

okay so in high strung our reader insert is a trainer/physical therapist type who works in the gym at the WLF base. she helps abby during her workouts, but little does she know that abby keeps getting distracted because of her.... so she helps abby unwind after a workout one day.

and hmm is a debauched infidelity thing where abby and reader are college roommates and abby is widely known for being a beast in the sheets with plenty of women around campus. tldr reader's boyfriend has never made her come, and abby is more than happy to rise to the challenge💦

[obscurexsorrows]

Also tumblr is sadder now that @chloeangelic left :(

[ro-nahime-things]

[bitchesuntitled]

Me after reading “Love Me Back” by @chloeangelic 🤣

You ever read fanfic so god tier you have to wait for real life to load back in so you spend half the day doing tasks with that dead look in your eye, replaying all your favorite moments?

[chloeangelic]

🚨Taglists done, new notifs blog!!🚨

I realized 2/3 of my taglists don't work, so I have instead created a notifications blog that will be updated whenever I post a new fic. Go follow Angelic notifs and turn your notifications on, and you'll never miss any of my series updates/one shots!

Under the cut I'll just tag everyone who's on all of my taglists, and hopefully those who have functioning tags can migrate over to my notifs blog instead :))) love you all so much, thank you for reading and wanting to be tagged!

Reflection of the Moon @moonlightdivine @kdogreads @kamcrazy123 @silkiers @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @queerponcho @pascalisbaby @morgaussy @bluebussy04 @rooney-verse @mommasnakesss @thelastofusff @defibrillator7 @daddy-din @lunxramour @winwin70 @jellybeanxc @skulls-sage @tremendouscreationperson @laurrrra @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @trishpish-blog @ladynightingale @i-workwithpens @whiskeynwriting @annlvspp @randomstory56 @huggablepanda @pattwtf @taeslarityy @jsnake00 @koshkaj-blog @harriedandharassed @iamemy4 @this--is--music @obscurexsorrows @gracevnn

Brat tamer Joel/Without a Warning @clingontolife @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @pascalisbaby @paleidiot @queerponcho @daddy-din @manazo @afterglowsb-tch13 @lunxramour @pop-sugar102 @just35yrsandtrying @silkiers @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @caatheeriinee07 @kdogreads @pattwtf @milla-frenchy @mumma-moonchild @moonlightdivine @littlemisssluttyknee @ifall4dilfs @loustan90 @jasmindragoon @iluvurfather @preferthemolder

Javi @cloverhasnobrain @joybabyjune @5oh5 @britlord @kdogreads @kamcrazy123 @silkiers @queerponcho @pascalisbaby @pattwtf @harriedandharassed

[encasedinobsidian]

finally dawn

original fic │ seeking what is desirable spinoff │angst/smut/fluff │explicit 18+

Summary

That abyss he circled, dipped his toes in, bathed in, drowned in — it’s not so dark now, not a bottomless pit of darkness for him to fall back into or get drawn into by claws scratching at his skin. Someone gave him a lantern somewhere along the line, lit up the space around him so that he could see what rock bottom really was. And he was there alone, don’t get it twisted — he sat with his arms around his knees and looked around to see that there was nobody there but him.

And he still sits there sometimes. Every dark evening when Mia is asleep under his covers and he’s leaning over the kitchen island, eating the marshmallow-less Lucky Charms while the wind rustles in the trees of his backyard and he thinks back on a year ago. His chest tightens at the thought of being back there, in the house that didn’t feel like it belonged to him or his ex-wife.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Chapters

Prologo

Part I: Dolcezza│Amoruccio│Tenerezza│ Cuore│Amore│Bellezza

Part II: Carissima│Angelo│Tesoro │Topolina │Fiorellina │

Mostriciattola│Fatina │Amorina

Epilogo

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Moodboards

Jeremiah ☽ Naomi ☽ Joel ☽ Bianca ☽ Anastasia ☽ Rocco ☽ Vivian ☽ Mia

[macfrog]

NEW CLM !?!!?!!!!!!!?!????????????!!??!?????????????!!???!????!??!???????!????????????!!!???!??!??????!????!??!??!?!?

everyone step aside, dbf's biggest fan is in the building and her cock is rock fucking solid for this man

[drugsorgasmsandcheese]

you fuckwits who write line cook!joel have me thinking about how you come back from a table and give their compliments to him and that man does not give the most sincerest fuck and he never has, but when the diner is closing and you’re eating a new item he’s thinking of adding to the menu, joel is so scared cause he wants your compliments on his dish bc they mean the most to him

anyway like i said fuck u line cook!joel writers i’ll be manifesting u all in my dreams tonight

[blissfulbarbie]

angst is truly the cure to being delulu <3

I Hope You're Happy / Joel Miller x Reader

Description: Joel breaks up with you, thinking that he's setting you free to chase your dreams. And you do. And he gets another girl pregnant. And you meet each other in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. And you hope the other is happy. But you're not. You're both not.

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: Angst angst angst. No outbreak AU.

Deep down, you knew this day would come. What did you expect, dating someone 10 years older than you? You just didn’t think it would come this soon. Or that it would hurt this much. 

As you sat there in the dimly lit living room, the weight of Joel's words hung heavily in the air. It had been a typical evening, sharing a meal and telling each other about your day, but something felt different tonight. The air seemed heavy with tension and Joel’s smiles didn’t really reach his eyes, betraying an inner turmoil that you hadn't seen before.

"Listen," he began, his voice tinged with regret, "I’ve been thinking a lot about something."

You felt a knot tightening in your stomach as you nodded, prompting him to continue.

Joel stared at the floor, avoiding your gaze. "I love you. So much. More than I ever thought I could love someone. But, I can't keep pretending that I can give you everything you deserve. I'm 35, and I've lived a life that's... complicated. I don't want to tie you down, especially when you have so much of the world left to explore."

You tried to understand his perspective. Tried to see where he was coming from but all you could think was, Why now? Why now when I’ve already fallen in love with you?

"I don't want you to look back one day and regret being with me," he continued, his voice gentle as he clasps both of your hands in his. "I couldn’t live with myself if one day you look at me and all I’d see is regret in your eyes. I want you to experience the world, to find your own path. I know you'll go on to do amazing things, and I don't want to be the reason you didn't." His eyes glimmered with tears. 

“And what about what I want?” You stared back at him, defiant. “What if I want to be here with you?”

He smiled softly and shook his head. “You know, I could be selfish and keep you here with me. But what can you achieve in this town, really? You had such big dreams when we met, remember? Don’t think I forgot.” 

He was right. You passed on a few big job opportunities in New York when you settled down with Joel, and you kept telling yourself you’d apply next week, which became next month, next year, until it never happened. Suddenly a fancy job and new apartment in the Big Apple didn’t seem appealing anymore. Not when you had Joel. 

“Dreams change.” was all you managed to get out before your throat started to tighten and you felt the prickling of tears in your eyes.

Joel pulled you in for a hug and buried his face in your shoulder. “Don’t change them for me. Never for me.” 

Deep down, you knew you had to go. Not because you wanted to, but because you knew Joel would never forgive himself if you didn’t. It was ironic and so painfully stupid that it hurt - he thought this breakup would help you and you went through with it to help him. 

So there you went. You packed your bags and you were out of there in less than a week. You moved in with a friend in New York for a couple of months until you secured a stable job and an apartment. You followed Joel's advice, exploring the world, pursuing your dreams, and building a life that was uniquely your own. You missed him more than you cared to admit, but you knew that his intentions had been pure, and in a way, it did benefit you. 

You have proper savings now, and you are a fully independent adult, carving your way painfully through a year of hard work, job searches, apartment hunting - all while navigating a broken heart. And while you love your new life, late at night in the dark of your fancy new apartment overlooking the city skyline, you often found yourself thinking, was it all worth it? 

But you shake your head out of the daze eventually. Because if it isn’t worth it then all the pain and all the tears were for nothing. So you had to love this life. Forced yourself to love it because that’s what Joel wanted for you. Joel. Even now, you still live for Joel. 

Until you didn’t. Your fingers freeze on your phone as you read the caption on Cassie’s new instagram post with a man who looks all too familiar. 

Excited to welcome a new chapter into our lives. 👶❤️

Your stomach sinks. Your phone drops to the bed. And tears sting your eyes. No. It can’t be. You pick up the phone again and there he is. Your Joel, messy hair as if he just rolled out of bed and his scruffy beard. Smiling at Cassie who’s holding a picture of an ultrasound. CASSIE? And JOEL?

You try to think back to every interaction they had during the course of your relationship but it had never been more than polite small talk at neighbourhood gatherings or run-ins at the grocery store. Wasn’t she married? Fuck this. You double tap the picture, giving it a “like”. This will give them something to talk about, you think spitefully. He wanted me to move on with my life? Well this is me, moved on. As you throw your phone to the other side of the bed, the pain finally sinks in and you cry into your pillow, wondering if you truly, will ever move on. 

In the years that pass, you try to distract yourself with work and your new friendships. On paper, your life in New York was going swimmingly well and you had even dated a couple of nice guys. Dating still gives you a little twinge in the heart but you ignore it for the most part. People would kill for the life you have and you will NOT be ungrateful about it. 

But of course, life is never that simple. Just when you think you’re able to find happiness, you get thrown a curveball. And this curveball came in the form of Joel Miller, standing in the cereal aisle of your local grocery store. He’s older, grayer, but damn him, he still looks so fucking good. You stand there staring for a moment, while he examines the box of Cap’n Crunch. As he puts the box back down and glances up, he meets your eyes and you hate this cliche, but you swear to God, time stands still. 

He whispers your name, almost in disbelief as his brows furrow. “Hey. Wow.” 

“Hey.” 

“You… How are you?” 

“I’m good. Yourself?” 

“Yeah great.”

Somehow this exchange cuts you deeper than the day he broke up with you. When did you become people who could barely speak 3 words to each other? 

Trying to alleviate the clenching of your heart, you speak up. “What are you doing here? This is the last place I thought I’d ever run into you.” 

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I uh.. Tommy’s up here meeting a couple of friends and asked me to tag along. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out by the way, I should have texted when I knew we were heading –” 

You cut him off, not wanting to hear lies. “No, that’s okay. I wouldn’t expect you to. You must be busy now anyways with the kid.” 

His eyes soften at that, guilt and pain flashing through them but you push on. “It’s fine, really. You’re not obligated to tell me these things. I just saw on Cassie’s instagram. Is she here too?” 

At that, he visibly stiffens and clears his throat as he replies, “Oh, Cassie and I aren’t together anymore. Well we were never.. But we kind of.. Yeah she’s not in the picture. It’s just me and Sarah.” 

Sarah. He had a girl. A little girl. Your stomach twists and you kind of feel like throwing up so you try to find an exit. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Well, Sarah is lucky to have you. I always knew you’d make a good dad.” 

He smiles for the first time in this conversation. “Truthfully, I have no idea what I’m doing half the time but she’s a good kid.” 

Enough. Enough. Enough. “Well, it was nice meeting you again Joel, and I’m glad you’re doing well–” 

“No, wait. Can we talk, please? I.. I’ve missed you. I want to talk.” Joel steps towards you as if to stop you from leaving but then holds himself back. 

“I don’t think we have anything much to say to each other anymore, Joel, don’t you think?” You chuckle a little to mask the overwhelming urge to cry. 

“I just want to know how you’re doing.” He looks at the ground, like a puppy scolded by his owner and you know you can’t resist the floodgates that pour out. You take a deep breath and let it all out in one exhale.

“Fine. You want to know? I’m doing great, just as you said I would. I make a ridiculous amount of money every year, I have a fancy apartment that overlooks the city, I have nice friends and a good life. It’s everything you wanted for me.” 

“You deserve it. I knew you would.” He says, nodding with a sad smile.

“So why don’t I feel happy yet?” You can’t believe it but you actually start to cry. Here in the middle of the damn cereal aisle in front of your ex-boyfriend. 

He stands stunned for a moment, his eyes concerned and brows furrowed. He eventually steps fully in front of you this time. His hands hesitate, as if he doesn't know where to put them, until he settles for your shoulders. “I’m sorry. I thought.. I thought you would be–” 

You bat his hands off your shoulders. “Yeah, you did. But it doesn’t matter because what’s done is done and we’ll never get it back. Any of it.” 

He says your name, pleadingly. 

“No, I don’t blame you. I left, didn't I? It was my decision too. I guess deep down some part of me thought I would be better off. And in a way I am. I really am. But I cannot lie to you and say that I’m happy Joel, because I’m not. And nothing will change that. Because this is my life now.” 

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as the weight of the years of separation hangs there. “I’m not either,” he whispers. 

“What?” 

“I’m not.. happy. Cassie and I had a fling when I was heartbroken and dealing with our breakup. She had just gotten divorced and I was.. I was planning to ask for you back. I was prepared to get on a fucking airplane and beg on my knees until you took me back. Whether that meant moving you back home or me moving here, it didn’t matter to me. We’d make it work. I just wanted you to know that I made a mistake and I shouldn’t have decided for you.” He places his hands on your shoulders again, and you let them stay this time. 

He continues, speaking quickly as if a dam has burst. “But then Cassie got pregnant. And I knew I had to make a choice. We said we’d try to raise the kid together and be a family but.. A few months after Sarah was born she just left. Literally, took off and left, and I have no idea where she went. Frankly, I don’t even care. And then I got so busy with the kid and then years passed, and I just lost the timing. What, am I just supposed to call you up 10 years after breaking up with you, telling you what a joke my life has become? How I’ve regretted every moment since you packed your bags?” 

You let all of his words sink in for a while before choking out, “And what do I do with all this information now? What do you expect me to do?” 

He’s tearing up and his voice rises a little as he replies, “Nothing. I don’t expect nothing. I just needed you to know that I never spent a day without thinking of you or loving you. And that I’m sorry. And that I wish you were happy, because if you were, then at least all of this bullshit would be worth it. But you’re not.” 

You nod, your brain not fully able to come up with words at this point, so he continues. “If you’d told me you were happy, I would have swallowed my pride, wished you well, and walked out of this store with the knowledge that at least all this pain has finally brought you joy. But we’re both hurting now, so what does that make us?” 

“Two idiots crying in the cereal aisle?” You offer with a small chuckle through your tears. 

He breathes out a small laugh. “Yeah. That it does.” 

A woman passing through the aisle snaps you both back to reality as you wipe your tears and gather yourselves. “It is really good to see you, Joel. And.. thank you for telling me all of it. It doesn’t change anything but I think I needed to hear it.” 

He shakes his head before looking into your eyes. “You know what the sick part is? 10 years ago I told you I never wanted you to look at me with regret in your eyes. Yet here you are.” 

You nod and smile sadly. There’s nothing left to say. 

His gaze turns soft. “I hope you’ll be happy someday. Maybe not now, but someday.” 

“Maybe. And yourself?” 

“Maybe.” He replies cheekily, smiling softly. With that, he pulls you in for a hug and the familiar waft of his cologne transports you back to 10 years ago when you hugged in his living room before saying goodbye, when you used to cuddle together so close at night, when he used to hug you before leaving for work. Your memories together flash before your eyes like a sick Hallmark movie except this time you know the ending. 

You feel the press of his lips against your head and you swear you hear him whisper the words “I love you” but you can’t be sure because your heart is pounding and you can feel it in your ears. Your life from this point on will always be divided into before and after. The point where you know, you just know, the choice you made is irreversible. You will never have Joel Miller ever again.

As you pull away, you both tearfully smile and look at each other for the last time. You spend a good minute just looking, memorizing the other’s face. You both don’t bother with the polite pleasantries of promising to keep in touch because you know that would be a lie. It would be too painful. This is your fate now. 

You walk past each other, leaving your memories and feelings behind in the dust of your footprints. To passersby, you look like strangers. Passing each other in the cereal aisle, meeting for a moment and then never again. And maybe that’s what you are now. Strangers, destined to be in each other’s lives for a moment, and then never again. 

Joel eventually goes back home to Austin, and you stay in your beautiful apartment which seems to be mocking you with how big and yet empty it feels. 

Joel looks at his daughter and wonders what it would be like if this kid was yours, and you stare at your phone, a message from your new date asking you to confirm a meeting time flashing on your screen.

Joel wonders what life would be like if you’d stayed. You wonder the same thing.

Tag list: @just-some-random-blogger @joeldjarin @pattwtf

[macfrogrecs]

the perfect end to the perfect series. chloe has her fucking foot on my neck at this point and i’m not even mad about it :-)

You like that?

Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: 18+ Stepdaddy AU masterlist Word count: 4.3k

Summary: Your mom goes away on a work conference, leaving you and Joel home alone.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected PIV (!!!), creampie, oral (f, m receiving), ass play, dirty talk, stepcest, age gap (20s/40s), stepdad!Joel, slightly dark!Joel, infidelity, daddy kink, squirting, mild degradation, slapping, slightly rough sex, hickeys cause Joel is delulu, ass eating, come eating, spit kink, bulge riding.

A/N: That's all folks! Thank you for waiting forever for this, for reading and enjoying. I'm keeping anons off for my own sanity but my inbox is very much open!

Notifications blog | Tip jar | Chloe's masterlist

Your mother is on the phone when you step into the kitchen, holding the collection of glasses and bottles you’ve somehow collected in your bedroom. She rolls her eyes and points at her phone, yes, John, yes— I— okay, yes, I understand that but—, then sighs loudly, taking a deep breath before conceding, fine, I’ll go. She hangs up and tosses her phone onto the dining table, running her hand down her face, eyes shifting around, as you carefully put the glasses in the dishwasher, trying to gauge her mood. 

She looks up at you, rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “Tom from accounting was supposed to attend this stupid work conference, but has suddenly gotten sick, so now I have to go,” she says plainly, getting up from the chair and reaching over to pick up her phone from the other side of the table.

“Oh?”, you try to sound apologetic, or empathic, or anything but excited that she’ll be out of the house for an extended period of time, leaving you alone with your stepdad, mere days after he went down on you right where you’re standing, barely a few feet away from where you took him down your throat.

He told you in his truck that time that he wouldn’t fuck you, that he wouldn’t put his cock inside his stepdaughter, but he gladly, and with no abandon, watched you swallow and gag on it, then ate you until your come was staining his shirt and drenching his beard. His resolve is such a fucking joke. 

“I leave tomorrow morning, I’ll be back on Thursday, alright?”, she doesn’t give you any time to respond before she heads out of the kitchen, and you can hear her shout from the hallway as she runs up the stairs, “Joel will be here — just tell him what you want for dinner and he’ll deal with it, I have to pack.” 

You hear some low murmurs from upstairs, your mother telling Joel about her business trip, and you don’t see him the rest of the night. 

—

Your mom has already left by the time you get up the next morning, and with you and Joel left alone, you waltz into the bathroom, leaving the door open as you walk inside and turn on the shower. You step in while it heats up, letting the cold water spread goosebumps all over your skin and make your nipples firm up, just as you hear a door opening and heavy footsteps in the hallway. 

There’s no steam covering the shower cabinet — you see straight through the glass door, and he can see you when he emerges from outside, settling in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded. 

“What are you doing tonight?”, you ask through the splashing sounds of the water, heating up as it runs down your hair and your back, sliding over your chest and dripping from the tips of your breasts. 

He swallows slowly, rakes his eyes up and down your body, his gaze zeroing in on that place between your legs before he blinks and looks up at your eyes. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Me,” you shrug, tilting your head and batting your eyelashes. 

He huffs a laugh, knocks on the doorframe, and gets ready for work, leaving the house before you get out of the bathroom. 

—

When he has arrived home a little after five, when his boots have been left in the hallway and his jacket has been hung in the closet, you watch him as he walks towards you, sitting on the couch. His pace is slow, measured, he looks down at the floor with every step. You click the TV off and throw the remote to the side, stretch out over the cushions and cross one ankle over the other, folding your arms. 

This can only go one way — what was that thing you read about reaching critical velocity?

He’s still looking down when he reaches the foot of the couch. You watch his eyes shift around, a deep breath expanding his chest, his glance over his shoulder to make sure he locked the door. 

And then, in a matter of seconds, he pounces on you. 

His lips are on yours, legs ripped open and stretched out while he pushes your thighs apart with his waist and shoves his tongue into your mouth. It’s greedy, the way he kisses you — snarling, growling, he sucks on your tongue and bites your lip. He swallows your saliva, drinks it down in a feral haze. He’s hard already, pushing his cock into the seam of your leggings.

His skin is blistering hot under the fabric of his flannel and the buttons you try to open with trembling fingers. You’ve never seen him shirtless inside the house, never up close, only on the other side of the pool when you’ve averted your gaze from his chest hair and tried not to think about it later. 

You moan when he thrusts his hips and you feel the fabric of your panties dragging over your clit, already swollen and sensitive. He tries to fuck you through your clothes, pushes up on his knees, his thick arms caging you in, wraps your legs around his waist and grinds into you with so much force your hips lift along with his movements. You whimper into his mouth, opening wide for him to pull back and spit into the back of your throat, not letting you swallow before his lips are on yours again. 

Your fingers make their way down his shirt, palms perspiring as one button is undone at a time. You can’t tell if he even notices, too busy with your tongue, and his hand sliding down under your ass to pull you up and into him. 

His flannel opens and he tears it off, ripping your shirt over your chest and your arms immediately after, popping your bra open with one hand and flinging it to the side. He has no time to waste and yet his jeans stay on, his cock confined by his boxers and you covered by your leggings and a flimsy pair of soaked panties, sticking to your skin, nearly getting pushed into you by how he grinds and thrusts, seemingly determined to make you come without touching you below your waist. 

“Ah— fuck, get on my lap,” he growls, holding around you and sitting back on the cushion, kissing you again when you’ve settled, licking into you while his hands find your nipples and he rolls them between his fingers, squeezes and pulls. You roll your hips over his bulge, over the big, hard size of it, and he groans, somewhere deep in his chest. “Shit, baby, grind on it, grind on it — yeah, like that,” he mutters, moving one hand down to grasp around your hip, pulling and pushing you, back and forth, pinching and rubbing your nipple with his other hand. 

He sees you getting closer, your eyes sliding back while your hips move in an even rhythm, your clothed pussy rolling over him, tightening as it drags over his hardness and relaxing when you lower back down. “Gonna make you come so fucking much,” he whispers, just watching you, digging his fingers into your leggings, “You’re gonna be a puddle by the time I’m done with you. Then I’m gonna fuck you again tonight, and tomorrow morning, and you’ll never want another cock again.” 

With a final pinch, the tightening of your core and the feeling of his dick twitching beneath the fabric of his jeans, you start to come, pulsing and fluttering, arching your back so deeply your chest is in his face and he takes your other nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking on it, biting gently, pulling it and releasing. 

“Yeah, that’s one,” he murmurs, lifting you off his lap while your pussy still throbs, and undoes his belt swiftly, shucks off his jeans and boxers, kicks them off and grabs the waistband of your leggings and panties in both hands, then pulls them down and off, leaving you naked for him as you lay down on the couch and spread your legs. 

He lays down between your thighs, hooking your knee over his shoulder and bringing his hand up to insert two fingers into you. They glide in smoothly, already slicked up and wet, running up and down your tender, fleshy walls and finding a particularly sensitive area, pushing into it and looking up at you to see the way your back arches in response. 

You whimper and writhe and squirm as he stays right there for the longest minutes you’ve ever experienced, rubbing into that spot while his breath fans over your clit, throbbing in need of attention. His fingers glide in and out, they curl, he moves his other hand over your stomach, up to your chest and starts to play with your nipple. 

His fingers are pulled out, one of them moving down to your asshole, sinking in slowly while he tells you to relax. Your muscles let up a little, allowing him to push further in, all the way to the knuckle, and then he finally, finally licks a slow stripe over your clit. It forces a desperate moan out of you, all of your nerves lit on fire and a wave of arousal spreading through your body. 

You watch the flutter of his lashes as his eyes close and he begins to lick you, the same way he did on your kitchen floor, knowing what you like, knowing how to work you. His finger gently moves in and out, every push driving you closer to your orgasm, and you hear his chuckle when you begin to squirt, drenching his beard, his hand, his neck, squealing and moaning his name until he retracts his finger. 

He stands up on his knees, his cock hanging heavy as you lift onto your elbows. It’s so fucking thick, so long, wet and glistening and dripping with precome. There’s no way it’ll fit, and that makes your mouth water. You reach your hand out and wrap it around him, still failing to connect your fingers around his girth. He moans at the feel of you stroking his head, gently back and forth, his tip aiming at you as if he’s about to come all over your chest. You whine and whimper, so desperate to have him inside you could scream. 

“Please let me suck your cock, daddy, please—”, you beg, sitting up on your knees while he lays down with his legs spread, leaning against the backrest with his arm slung over the side. 

He looks cocky as fuck, gripping his dick with his hand, holding it out for you and raising his eyebrows while he nods towards it. You stumble ahead, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you lean down and take him into your mouth, licking up every drop of his precome while he groans, while he wraps your hair around his fist and puts his other hand on the back of your neck. 

“Let me fuck your face, babygirl,” he coos, giving you a moment to breathe before he thrusts his hips and his cock slides into the back of your throat, making your eyes water and nipples tighten, your entire core contracting with arousal. He throws his head back and moans while you swallow around him and try to move your tongue along his shaft. The sound makes your wetness begin to seep out of your opening, coating your inner thighs and dripping onto the couch cushion. 

You’ve never heard him moan like this, panting and looking down to watch you gag on his length, your saliva running down your knuckles, drowning out the muffled little moans coming from your full mouth. Fuck, yeah, shit, that feels good — his words spill out incoherently and his chest heaves, his hand gripping your neck harder while he saws slowly in and out, groaning every time your tongue passes over his tip. 

“I wanna come in your throat so fuckin’ bad again, fuck,” he mutters, panting and baring his teeth for a few moments, pulling your hair so he can watch his entire length slide into you, and then out, soaking wet. 

“But I gotta fuck you.” 

He pushes you up, keeps one hand on the back of your neck while he sits up and uses the other to paw at you, pushing you down until you’re laying on your back. 

Fuck good decision making, fuck thinking twice, fuck condoms and fuck morality — your stepdad is hovering over you with his wet cock between your legs, teasing you with his tip, running it through your folds, rubbing it on your clit, tracing it down to your asshole, teasing you there until you squirm, and you’ve never wanted anything more in your life. 

He strokes himself slowly, looking into your eyes, letting a drop of precome slip out of him and trickle down your folds. He smears it over your clit, grunting at the sensation, and when he can’t hold back any longer, he opens his mouth. 

“You want my cock?”, he asks, his voice smooth and raspy, filling your ears, making you zone out so badly you can’t tell where you are. You’re hypnotized by him, by his scent, his heat, his body weight leaning onto you. “You want me to fuck you?” 

“Yes,” you whine, trying to move your hips enough to rub your clit against his shaft. 

“Beg for it.”

You sigh, moving your pussy over his knuckles as he holds his cock, feeling another drop land on your skin. “Joel, please, I want you to fuck me. I want you to put your big cock inside me and make me come and fuck me until I can’t stand. Pretty please?” 

He grunts again, and lets his head catch at your opening, staying still for a moment before he pushes in, gliding inch by inch, stretching you open on his thickness, while you arch your back and spread your legs wider, opening up for him, taking him deeper. He retracts, then pushes further in, grabbing the backs of your thighs and holding them as wide as your hips will allow. 

He fills you to the brim, not a sliver of space left to spare, and your walls flutter around him, massage him tighten when he nudges your cervix. “Jesus Christ,” he spits, hissing as he fucks you a little faster, staring down at where you connect, where he penetrates you and you stretch around him to the point of gaping, “Relax or I’m gonna fuckin’ come — so tight.” 

A moment is awarded for you to do just that. He leans down and kisses you, slowly thrusting, letting you get used to his size, licking across your tongue with less force, less fire, in a way that’s almost soothing, letting you soften for him so he can fuck you deeper. 

His cock feels amazing, every ridge and curve rubbing and massaging every sensitive inch inside, hardening even more when he goes slow, making you moan his name when he picks up the pace. Your head rolls further back with every thrust, every slide of his thick cock into your pussy, and the tightening of his hands over your thighs.

Joel, Joel, daddy, stepfather, this whole thing is so fucked up and disgusting but you're in a trance, your mind is ruled by how he stretches and fills you. You've never taken cock like this, never had it given to you so deeply. He growls louder as you moan and tug at his curls, pull him closer until he buries his face in your tits and fucks you harder. His lips move up along your chest, up to your neck, his tongue slides across your skin before he sinks his teeth into your muscle. Fuck, he grunts under his breath, moves a hand from your thigh to the nape of your neck and holds you trapped. 

“Such a little fucking slut,” he mutters, before attaching his lips to you and starting to suck, pulling on your skin until you feel the blood rushing to where you make contact, sure to leave a mark. He pauses his thrusts as he pulls back to look at his work, gripping your jaw and tilting it up and away to let your neck extend fully, showing him another patch of skin to mark for himself. 

He grabs your jaw and tilts you forward to look at him, at his dark eyes, blazing, staring at you while his breaths heave. He’s like an animal, keeping you trapped on his cock. You feel every inch inside of you, pulsing and throbbing, the remnants of the burn you felt when he stretched you open still lingering. 

“That’s what you are, ain’t it? A little slut? My little slut?”, his tone is almost sweet as he tilts his head, looks you up and down and gives your face the tiniest little shake, “Callin’ me daddy without me even telling you to? What kinda girl in her right mind does that to her stepdad?” 

You try to bite back your smirk and let your lashes flutter, purring as you respond, “Can’t help it.” 

He gives a little smack to the side of your face before he grabs your jaw again, pulling you harder onto his cock with his other hand, and clicks his tongue, “That’s not what I asked.” 

You furrow your brows and pout, “What do you mean, daddy?” 

He shudders and rolls his eyes, looks down and pulls out halfway, slowly, watching your arousal glisten across his shaft, scrunching his face and breathing heavily, groaning when he pushes all the way back in. “I asked,” he begins, interrupting himself with another deep thrust, “What kinda girl — fuck — in her right mind, calls her stepdad daddy.” 

You wrap your hands around his neck and try to pull him closer, and although he only budges by what must be a single inch, already close enough, you lick across his bottom lip, then take it between your teeth and give it a quick bite, pulling it taut while you draw back, then release it and look at him.

“One who wants to fuck her stepdad,” you breathe, “Who touches herself while thinking about swallowing his come… A girl whose stepdaddy has a huge cock and who doesn’t give a fuck that he’s married cause she makes him so horny he can’t think.” 

Jesus, he mutters, then pulls out of you in a hurry and flips you onto all fours, grabbing your hips and yanking you back, taking a split second to line himself up with your fucked out hole and push himself all the way in, far enough for you to yelp and grab the couch cushion before settling your arms and cheek onto it, letting him fuck you how he wants.

He sets a foot on the cushion next to you and pushes down on your back, you arch a little more and he moans when he gets deeper. His head spins when he pounds into you and looks down at your ass, at how your flesh jiggles and shakes in his hands. He gives you a firm swat across the meat of your asscheek, another when you moan, and a third when you whimper. He pulls you back onto himself harshly, fucking into you and grinding against your cervix so deeply it’s almost blinding. 

You’re already wrung out, fucked into pieces, but you groan at the loss when he rips himself out of you again, unable to see him kneel onto the floor, only snapping out of your haze when he grabs your asschecks with both hands and spreads you open, then starts to lick your asshole. He growls at the taste of your wetness, his come, your sweat, mixing as it slid down between your cheeks. 

You try to squirm away but he holds you hostage on your knees, sliding his tongue over the tight ring of muscle, making your clit ache and throb. Little whines spill out of you as you move your hips, clenching and trying to find some way to get friction where you need it. 

He lifts his hand, and as he keeps licking you where nobody else has been before, rubs your clit with the pads of his fingers. It makes you shudder. He plays with it, massages it, slips his fingers into your pussy to slick them up and coats your sensitive nub with your own wetness, then rubs little circles until you come, feeling the pulsations of your asshole on his tongue. 

You collapse into the couch when he lets go, but he doesn’t let you stay there for more than a second, flipping you back over, throwing one of your legs over the backrest while he kneels between your thighs and pushes his cock back in, dripping wet from you and from the precome that spills out of his tip. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you whine, overstimulated and fucked out, but the head of his cock rubs against your g-spot with determination, pushing you closer with every stroke. He slips one hand under your ass and the other under your back, holding you close to himself while you circle his neck with your arms and let him pull you up. 

He leans down and kisses you, turns his head to lick deeper, angling you so he can make out with your mouth hanging open, devouring you while he pushes his hips into yours and lets his balls slap against your ass. 

“Shit, baby, you like that?”, he asks, barely pulling away from your lips, “You like having my cock deep inside this little cunt?” 

“Yeah, yes, feels so good,” you moan, tightening around his girth. 

His hand moves from your back to your tummy, sliding down to right above where he penetrates you, pushing down slightly. There’s a glint in his eyes, something mischievous, “You gonna squirt for me?”  

You try to hold back, flushed and embarrassed, tightening even more in a feeble attempt at containing yourself.  

“It’s okay, babygirl,” he coos, his palm rubbing soothing circles, still putting slight pressure right where he nudges into your tender spot. It feels like whiplash, the way you shift from his slut to his babygirl in a matter of minutes, pulling your strings and telling you what you need to hear to make you slick him up even more, to make you wetter and softer where he fucks you. 

“You can come,” he whispers, pushing a little more firmly now, drawing his hips back and forth, rubbing into the spot that makes you tense up and hide your face in your hands. 

The pressure builds with every stroke, heat flashing across your face, the sound of Joel’s cooing and coaxing in your ear. It’s too raw, too vulnerable, having him inside of you like this, knowing what you look like when you come, knowing how to make you drench him with yourself. He’s in too deep in so many ways, in every way he shouldn’t. 

“You can come, baby,” he repeats, “Let me make you feel good, let me make you squirt, I know you need to.” 

You open your eyes, your hands find the back of his neck again, and when he leans down to kiss you, you let go. He moans when it spills out of you, and you cry out his name when your orgasm spurts and sprays out of your hole, when it covers his lower abdomen and his thighs, when it drips onto the couch. He keeps thrusting and more comes out, covering your mound with your wetness. 

He can’t hold back anymore, can’t stop himself from unloading inside you when you grip him so tightly — he buries himself deep, as deep as he can, and grunts while he lets his come paint your insides. His cock swells and kicks, it pulses while he empties himself and fills you with his load. He snarls your name and tightens his grip on your ass, bites your neck and feels the shared pulsations of your mutual climax. 

Then he looks down, sliding halfway out while a mix of your arousal and his spend runs down his shaft. He pushes in and pulls back out, keeps some of himself inside while the rest slides down his groin and onto his balls. A few more strokes and he pulls out, semi-hard, his cock dripping and flushed. He settles between your legs and starts to lick his own come from your folds, making his way to your clit. 

Your fingers run through his curls, gripping them while he eats you, while his wet tongue glides softly over your sex, teasing another orgasm but not applying enough pressure for you to reach it. He’s there for a while, licking slowly, suckling for a moment, catching his own spend as it drips out, cursing under his breath and starting to jack himself with the hand not on your stomach. 

“Nah, I need more of you,” he murmurs, grabbing your waist and lifting you up before he settles on the couch, putting you on his lap and letting his cock slide back into you.

You can hear the slick, lewd squelching of your shared come while you ride him, while you use it to rub your clit and he plays with your nipples, while you both pant and moan, completely lost in a cloud of each other’s scent, each other’s heat, eyes closed and mouths open, until you hear a beep in the driveway and the front door unlocking, then pushing open.