#dbf!joel x afab!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeyedmiller · 1 year ago

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Forbidden Fruit | Joel Miller

pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

warnings: dbf!Joel, age gap (reader is 26, Joel is in his late 40s), no-outbreak!Joel, smut with literally barely any plot (f oral receiving, fingering, squirting, m oral receiving, grinding, [sorta] unprotected piv), pet names, cursing, no use of y/n. 18+! minors do not interact!

word count: 5.8k

synopsis: you return back home from college after graduating with your Master’s degree, and Joel Miller is surprised to see how much you’ve really grown up.

ik the coming back from college trope is so overdone for dbf but I’m sorry I can’t help it. this was also not revised. sorry for any mistakes.

Joel Miller.

Brooding. Stern. Not much of a talker. Joel Miller was more of an observer. And boy, did Joel Miller notice how much you’ve grown.

Joel was your dad’s best buddy. You know, the one where they’d throw barbecues together, invite each other over to watch their favorite sports teams, go on fishing trips together, the works. They’ve been best friends since your dad first moved into the neighborhood. You were twelve then, and Joel loved that his daughter, Sarah, had someone around her age (you were five years older) to accompany her.

Since both of your mothers weren’t in the picture, you and Sarah bonded over that aspect of your lives. She was a sweet kid, and when Joel asked you to babysit her from time-to-time, you had no problem doing that for him.

That was years ago, though, and you’d gone off to college once again to pursue your Master’s degree. Your dad was so proud of you. Good grades, driven, responsible, good head on your shoulders—except the only irrational, illogical thought that kept crossing your mind:

Wanting Joel Miller.

You yearned for the middle-aged man. But who could blame you? He was tall, broad, strong, and not to mention, insanely handsome. Not in the typical silver fox type way, no. He was ruggedly handsome, with a seemingly permanent frown when he was around you, dark brown eyes that could get you to confess your sins, tan skin that glistened deliciously in the sun, a strong nose that was carved out by the Greek gods, dark and thick curls, greying patches of stubble, and a Southern drawl that could drop you to your knees in an instant.

Your yearning for him had always been on the back burner, but you’d always thought of him to be a handsome man. Someone nice to steal glances at here and there, and snicker to your friends about how crushing on someone forbidden as him was truly exhilarating.

Something changed between you two the last time you came home, though. You’d just graduated with your Bachelor’s degree, coming back home for the summer before applying for your Master’s that same year in the fall. All the burning gazes he’d offer your way went unnoticed at first, until you caught him staring one time and he didn’t even bother to look away. He kept his needy eyes locked on you, running over your body fully before snapping his eyes back up to yours. Then it went from looks, to subtle touches. His large hand on your lower back, yours wrapped around his bulging biceps, his brushing against the outside of your thighs, knees touching, so on and so forth.

Needless to say, you spent that summer with your hand between your legs countless times, whispering his name like a sinful confession when you came.

Your stomach twisted when your dad pulled up to your neighborhood. You gazed at all of the cookie-cutter houses, eyes peeled for a certain Miller brother as your house came into view. He wasn't outside, which caused a twinge of disappointment. You nearly rolled your eyes at yourself, because what the fuck. He's your dad's best friend, for god sake.

“So I was thinkin’,” Your dad starts, pulling his truck into the driveway of your house. “Do you want to have a party for graduating with your Master’s?” Your dad’s smile is sincere as he looks at you, and you offer him a small nod.

“Sure.” You say. You’re not big on parties since you did plenty of that in college, so you kind of wanted to settle down now and chill out. You were twenty six after all, and these days, you were much more into small kickbacks or get-togethers rather than parties. But, to your dad, a ‘party’ just meant a neighborhood barbecue mixed in with a pool day.

It was sweet that he wanted to celebrate you and your hard work, and you knew he loved to do stuff like this for you… so why the hell not?

“Perfect!” He slapped his hands against the steering wheel. “I’ll call Joel up and tell him we’re throwin’ a barbecue.”

Your cheeks flushed pink at the mention of his name, but your dad didn’t notice one bit. You clambered out of the passenger seat, helping him get your bags from the bed of his truck.

“‘Matter a’fact, I think Miller is home right now. Go ‘head and get settled in, I’ll go get Joel.” Your dad said, and you nodded. You couldn’t ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the thought of finally seeing the man who’s been occupying your mind after two years.

You’ve definitely changed a lot within those two years, mentally and physically. You felt as if you were a bit more mature, your mind sharp and witty. You definitely had more of a ‘grown woman’ presence to you, especially in the way you dressed and carried yourself. Physically, you learned how to perfect your makeup in a sense that could literally lure anyone to you, and you’ve been working out a ton. It was noticeable, especially how plump your backside now was.

After you lugged your bags upstairs, you decided you needed a shower. You’d been on a plane all morning, so you just wanted to wash it all away. It didn’t take long for you to rinse off and wash your hair before you started rummaging through your bag to pick out something to wear. You ended up choosing a cream colored ribbed halter top with Levi jeans that made your ass look fantastic.

You knew the way you were dressing was intentional, so you might as well at least try to impress Joel just a smidge. You slicked your hair back into a neat bun, putting in your small gold chunky earrings once more and slipping on the gold bracelet your mom gave you. That was the one thing she left that you cherished, even if she wasn’t in your life anymore.

You gave yourself a once-over in your full body mirror before slightly nodding once to yourself, making your way out of the bedroom. You heard to deep chuckles coming from downstairs, and you’d recognize both from anywhere. Joel was over.

You made it to the bottom of the staircase before your dad perked up at the sight of you.

“Hey pumpkin! Hope you feel refreshed now.” He smiles, and you huff a laugh at the nickname.

“I do. Thanks dad.”

“Well well well, if it isn’t Miss Master’s Degree.” Joel chimed in, and you shifted your gaze to his. Fuck, he looked good. His hair was slightly longer and styled messily sideways, but it suited him. He wore his usual attire—plain gray shirt with dark blue jeans and his boots. He held a beer in his hand, and the neck was pointed right at you.

“Hey, Mr. Miller.” You toss him a tight-lipped smile, and he waves his hand at you.

“C’mon kid, you know it’s Joel. Being called Mr. Miller makes me feel kinda old.” He jokes, and you quirk your brow.

“Who’s to say you aren’t already?” You tease, crossing your arms over your chest. That allowed your breasts to look more voluminous, and it caught Joel’s attention for a couple of milliseconds. To an outsider, it would’ve looked totally innocent. But you knew better.

“You wound me, darlin’.” He held a hand over his chest, pretending to look hurt. You crack a small smile, wondering when the hell he got so friendly toward you. Usually, he’d have a frown on his face when he talked to you and grunts for words to match.

“So, is the party this weekend okay?” Your dad asks, moving his gaze back to you.

You nod in agreement. “It’s perfect.”

Saturday rolled around quickly, and now you were getting ready for your party. Guests would be here within the hour or so, so you sat at your vanity in your room in your plush robe after have just taken a shower. You styled your hair to a pretty blowout, and now you were working on your makeup. You were just about to apply your lip liner when your dad knocked on your door.

“Kiddo? I’m gonna run to the store to get some last minute stuff. Joel’s here if you need anything.” He says through the door. How convenient.

“Okay!” You shout back, and continue to line your lips. You heard the front door shut loudly, and a minute later, heavy footsteps came up the stairs. They stopped outside of your room, and you quirked your brow expecting Joel to just knock already.

“You can come in, Joel.” You said, shaking your head a bit. Your room door opened slowly to reveal the beautiful man, and you eyed him through your vanity mirror.

“Sorry, didn’t know if I’d be disturbin’ ya.” He shrugs, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. You clenched your legs together at the sight.

“Well, you’re not.” You shrug back, continuing to finish lining your lips.

“Well don’t you look pretty.” He says, shuffling further into your room. He’s by the end of your bed now, hand on his hip with an extended knee propped out.

“Thanks. So do you.” You tease, and his breath catches. You smirk slightly, opening a tube of your favorite nude lipstick before applying that.

“Y’know, you oughta be real proud of yourself, gettin’ your Master’s n’ whatnot.” He starts, and you halt your movements to look at him through the mirror again. You turn your body in your chair to fully face him, and his eyes roam over the loosely tied robe that clings to your body. The fact that you might not have anything underneath drives him fucking wild.

You see him eyeing you, so you stand up and saunter just before him. You stare up at him, head cocked to the side.

“Means I’m twenty thousand dollars smarter.” You say, and his gaze locks on yours. The tension is nearly unbearable, and fuck do you wish he’d just make the first move. Maybe it’s his morals that have him screaming ‘don’t do it’ in his head, and honestly, you have to give it to him. You’re his best friends daughter; someone who should be completely off-limits. Not to be messed with. Forbidden fruit, if you will.

“‘N what does that twenty thousand dollar smarter brain tell you now?” He leans down more so your faces are only inches apart.

“Tells me that you might have an attraction to me. You know, with the way you look at me, imagining me under you while you take care of me. While I say your name like a—”

“Fuck, darlin’, you don’t know what you’re gettin’ yourself into.” He snaps, and truthfully, he doesn’t either. This is dangerous territory, but you’re a grown woman and you could decide for yourself what you wanted and didn’t want.

“You know, Joel,” You purr. “You can say all you want that you don’t want this, but I see the way your eyes burn holes in my body. It’d be crazy to say yes and give in to what we both want, but it’d be even crazier if you lied and said you didn’t want it.”

You’re challenging him, and he didn’t like it. He was so used to being the one in control, and now that you had him wrapped around your finger, he was losing what little he had left.

“How much time do you think we’ll have?” He asks, looking up at the ceiling. He can’t believe he’s about to give into the temptress that you are, but like you said, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it.

“Dad left ‘bout ten minutes ago. I’d say another thirty or so.” You shrug, and he tips your chin up so your gaze meets his. Your arousal was so strong that you felt the wetness stick to the apex of your inner thighs. It made you want to squirm.

“You sure this is somethin’ you want? Don’t think you can handle it, darlin’. Since you’re so used to those college boys.” He spits the last word, and you hum.

“Show me how a real man’s supposed to fuck me then, Joel.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Aht aht, not so fast now. Gotta warm you up first. Take off your robe and go lay down.” He instructs, and you couldn’t believe this was happening. You’d been dying to get his hands on you. You tried your hardest to keep your composure, so you simply stepped back from him and slowly untied your robe. You let it drop to the floor and pool around your feet. You looked back up at him as you made your way to your bed, laying your head on your silk pillowcase.

“What a fuckin’ sight you are, baby. You belong in a museum.” He admires your body from above, and usually, you’d feel confident in bed with other boys looking at your body. But this was no boy. This was a real man, and Joel Miller at that. The fucking neighborhood dilf that everyone wanted to sink their claws in, but he never let them.

He knelt down on your bed between your legs, spreading your thighs further apart so your glistening heat was in perfect view of his line of sight.

He smacked his tongue against his teeth three times as his hands trailed up further to the apex of your thighs.

“Already this wet n’ needy n’ I haven’t even touched ya. How ‘bout that, hm?” Joel may’ve lost control in the teasing beforehand, but in bed, he gained it all back. Now you were the one wrapped around his finger, needy for him. You know he wanted to you to beg, but you didn’t give him that satisfaction. Not yet, at least.

He moved his thumbs up to your puffy lips, spreading them apart to get the most intimate view of your pussy. You looked down at him admiring you, and it sent a shiver down your spine. No one’s ever looked at you like that—taken their time to admire what they were about to have. Joel was slow, careful, like he cherished you and your body. Like it was sacred.

He tilted his head to the side as his eyes snapped back up to yours, like he was waiting for you to beg him. Again, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of something you both wanted, so you tilted your head right back.

“Not gonna use your manners or anything?” He scoffs, and you huff a laugh.

“I have a vibrator in my nightstand that can do the job just fine, Mr. Miller.” You tease, and oh, he doesn’t like that.

“You’re a fuckin’ brat, y’know that?” He shakes his head and you toss a saccharine smile his way. You’ve got him riled up, and you just needed to tip him over the edge.

“I didn’t, Mr. Miller.” Was all you said before he smacked your pussy lightly once. The action made you moan and clench around nothing.

“No you didn’t my fuckin’ ass.” He spits onto your pussy, before delving himself into your folds. You toss your head back and let out a breathy moan, his tongue already completely coated in your slick. The muscle glides over your folds easily, finds its way to your clit, and traces tight circles around it.

“Fuck, oh my god.” You whine, gripping onto your bed sheets.

“Taste fuckin’ delicious, baby.” Joel moaned against you, continuing his relentless torture with his tongue. He moved his tongue from your clit down to your entrance, licking around once before entering you. His rough hands moved up from your thighs to your breasts, fingers teasing and pulling your sensitive peaks. Your started to squirm against him, and he smacked your breast softly.

“Stay. Still.” He warns, and you moan. This man and his tongue is going to be the absolute death of you. Then, his tongue slips out of you and dares to go down even further—a place no one has been before. You choke on a gasp as his tongue circles your hole, licking over it a few times slowly before gliding all the way back up to your clit. He brings one of his hands down from your breasts to your pussy, and he separates his mouth for a second before coating his ring and middle finger with your slick before sliding them into you.

The stretch of his two fingers was so much more than your own could offer, and it felt fucking good. He looked down at you for a split second, eyes half-lidded and burning with desire. His irises were nearly black, as he watched you with your brows threaded together and jaw slack, enjoying the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you languidly.

“That’s it, princess.” He encouraged, before moving his mouth back onto your clit. He sucked on it softly, generous enough to give you just the right amount of pressure that you needed. His expert fingers and tongue moved in such perfect sync that you felt yourself getting close already. Joel didn’t let up, keeping his pace steady for you. He felt you clench around his fingers, and he moaned against you in encouragement.

Within seconds, the heat in your core flooded your body head to toe in release, moaning out Joel’s name ceremoniously. He removed his mouth from you but kept his fingers in you, moving them slowly. He maneuvered himself so he was hovering over you, grabbing your jaw to prop it open.

“Open your mouth.” He said, and you immediately obeyed. He spit directly into your mouth, tasting his own saliva mixed with your arousal. Heat flooded your core again as the faint feeling of his fingers started to move faster.

“Fuck, Joel–” You gasped as he sped his movements up, a dark look taking over his eyes. A sickly sweet smirk made its way onto his lips as you felt a pressure build in you again, but it felt different this time. This time, it was one like you needed to pee.

“Joel, stop, I feel like I need t–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before that strange sensation built up so rapidly that clear liquid gushed from your core. You moaned loudly, the sensation making your whole body tingle.

Joel chuckled darkly. “Well look at that. The princess can squirt.” Before, you would’ve wanted to wipe the sickly satisfaction that was strewn on his face, but after him making you cum the way you did, you couldn’t say shit.

Your body was still trembling from the aftershocks of the orgasm, ragged breath and all. Joel started to unbuckle his belt, tugging at his pants until they were around his ankles. The confinement of his cock in his underwear was nearly painful, and he couldn’t wait to see your lips wrapped around him.

“Y’gonna watch me please myself or ya gonna help me with this… situation? Unless you don’t wanna ruin your lipstick, princess.” He gestures down to his bulge, and you nearly roll your eyes.

“Lipstick’s re-applicable, Mr. Miller.” You maneuver your weak body down to the floor and on your knees in front of him.

“What’d I tell you about calling me that?” He grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger harshly, jerking your head up to meet his gaze. He looks sexy like this, all riled up while he waits for you to make him feel good.

“Oh c’mon, Joel, you’re still the neighborhood dilf regardless if I call you that or not.” You laugh, moving your hands up to tug at the waistband of his boxers.

“Christ woman, you really test my patience y’know that?” He scoffs with a lopsided grin, shaking his head. His mind was swirling with thoughts of how grown up you were now; how mature you’ve really gotten. He was a nasty man taking what he wanted from you and you were a nasty woman for letting him. The secrecy made it all the better, and truth be told, Joel hasn’t done anything this exhilarating in a very long while.

You both came to a silent mutual agreeance that this was nothing more than a casual fling; something you both could fulfill your needs with. Which, honestly, was perfect for you. You weren’t looking for anything and you’d be damned if that thing was with your father’s best friend. This was to get the mutual pining out of the way, and for Joel to show you how a real man should fuck you.

You tugged his boxers down, freeing his painfully hard erection. Joel wasn’t small by any means—he had girth and an impressive length. He’s by far the biggest you’ve ever had, but that wasn’t stopping you from showing him how you could handle him.

His tip was dark pink and leaking pre cum, waiting to be cleaned up by your tongue. You looked up at him as he cocked an eyebrow at you, silently challenging you to go ahead and take it all.

You close your eyes for a split second before opening them again, taking his heavy cock into your hand and giving the silky flesh a few tugs. A low grown emerges from his chest, eyes closing in pure ecstasy. You decided to play nice and not tease him too much, so you leaned forward and gave his tip a few kitten licks to gather the pre cum on your tongue.

Joel inhaled a sharp breath as you licked down his whole shaft on each side, coming back up to kiss the tip. You used one hand to steady his length before putting him slowly in your mouth, inch by inch before your nose was met with the coarse curly hairs at the base of his cock. His tip hit the back of your throat, but you swallowed around him as best as you could before you had the urge to gag.

“Good god, woman— fuck.” He hissed, jaw going slack and eyes pressing closed in pleasure. You hummed against him as you raised your head back up, going back down again at a slow pace at first. You eventually found a steady rhythm, making sure to pay some mind to his balls too. He was a panting mess above you, trying so hard to keep it together but barely managing. He kept repeating your name over and over, so much so that it almost sounded like a whine. The arousal between your legs pooled up again, fast. Hearing a grown man whine for you and what you were doing for him made your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. You’d never considered yourself a dom, but things like this really fucking turned you on.

You licked up the side of one particular protruding vein on his cock up to the slit of his tip, and he lost it.

“‘M’not gonna fuckin’ last if y’keep doin’ that.” He sighs, gripping your comforter.

“That’s the whole point.” You said, doing that move a few more times before he stilled, hips bucking up into your mouth as he spilled his cum down your throat. You swallowed every last bit of it, moving your mouth off of him with a ‘pop’. You stood up using his knees to elevate yourself, naked and no longer self conscious of being in such a state in front of him.

“We should probably cut it off here. People will be arriving soon.” You say, stepping back to pick up your robe and tie it around yourself again. You looked at yourself in the mirror, and truthfully, you looked much better than you thought you would. You just needed to fix some slightly runny eye makeup and your lipstick.

“Yeah,” Joel nods as he stands up, tucking himself back into his boxers and pulling his pants back up. He re-buckled his belt, straightening himself out before turning to you. You met his gaze through the mirror, and with dark eyes and a smug smile, he steps up behind you before putting his hands on your hips. He leans down so his mouth is level with your ear, and whispers so softly to you that it sends violent chills down your spine. “I’ll ruin every single man for you once I’m buried in that pretty cunt. That’s a promise.”

He walks away without saying another word, leaving you absolutely dumbfounded.

The party was in full swing, neighbors that you hadn’t seen in years at the function. It was nice to see and catch up with everyone, but you couldn’t ignore the heavy ache in your core. Joel’s words kept replaying in your head, and you’ve had half a mind to just drag him upstairs and have him fuck you then and there. But, life wasn’t always fair.

You spent all afternoon telling the whole neighborhood what you majored in, what kind of jobs you were looking for, moving plans, so on and so forth. You lived in a small community just outside of the city, so everyone was in everyone’s business here.

Joel kept mostly to himself for the whole party, except for the same burning gaze he always gave you when no one was watching, and the occasional touch on your lower back that would make you go rigid. He was especially fixated on your legs, which he couldn’t help but imagine being wrapped around his waist as he fucked you senseless.

Today, you wore shorts that showed off the plump curve of your ass, and a loose white linen short sleeve button down with the first couple of buttons undone. Your hot pink bikini top was peaking out from it which gave the simple outfit a small pop of color. You’d purposefully lean over to talk to people who were sitting, or bend down at the waist to get drinks from the cooler because you knew he was watching.

You kept your cool though, because that’s all you really could do at that point. You had to pretend that the older Miller brother’s face definitely wasn’t buried between your legs hours prior, or that he definitely didn’t make you squirt for the first time, or that you definitely didn’t have your lips wrapped around his cock.

By the time the party dwindled down, it was nearly midnight. You were escorting the last of the guests out with a genuine ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’, before heading back to the backyard where your dad and Joel remained.

Your dad was hammered, which in all honesty, was pretty funny. He’d rarely ever get drunk like this so you know he was going to sleep good tonight.

“Hey dad, why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest. Joel and I will clean up what’s left out here.” You suggest, putting a hand on your dad’s back.

He mumbled something incoherent before smiling down at you. “Okay sweetie. You’re right. I’m gonna… gonna… yeah. Do what you said.” He nods and you stifle a laugh as he drags his feet to the glass sliding door.

“Let me help you old man.” Joel chuckles as he helps your drunken father upstairs and safely into his bedroom. You clean up the small amount of trash left, thankful that your neighbors are decent people and throw away their own messes. You find the weather around you to be still and warm—perfect for the jacuzzi. You strip yourself of your shoes, shirt and shorts, leaving you in nothing but your skimpy bikini. The bottoms were nearly swallowed by your ass, so you’re kind of grateful that your dad went upstairs to sleep off his fun day.

You settled yourself in, groaning softly as the warm water settled your bones. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the concrete, enjoying the peace and quiet.

That is, until the sliding glass door opened and closed again. You didn’t open your eyes, but the sound of heavy footsteps neared you. The back porch light was turned off, so the backyard was completely submerged in darkness before the jacuzzi lights turned on. A pretty, soft purple glow shone throughout the space, the jet suddenly coming on as well. Bubbles started to form, and that’s when you opened your eyes. You were surprised to see Joel stripping down to his boxers, two beers in hand.

He climbed in next to you, handing you an uncapped beer. He didn’t say a word as he settled, clinking the neck of your beer bottle with his own. You both took a swig, and you set the beer bottle down before you dissociated while looking at the purple bubbles.

“Did you have a good party?” He asked, setting his beer bottle down too.

“I did.” You nod, looking at him. Just like that, the tension was back. You were sure the arousal was a sticky mess on your bikini bottoms had you not climbed into the jacuzzi. Even the soft flesh between your thighs was drenched. The heavy ache was low in your belly, and you really wanted Joel to get rid of it.

“Please tell me you want me right now as much as I want you.” You say, and Joel was taken aback by your bluntness. Might as well just say it straight up, right? No point in beating around the bush now. Hunger flashed through his eyes, and he swallowed thickly.

“Yeah, I do.” His voice was merely a whisper above the loud bubbles.

“Good.” Was all you said before you moved your hand down to his boxers, palming his semi-hard cock through the soaked material.

“I love when a woman knows what she wants. It’s sexy.” Joel admits, and you toss him a smug smile.

“That’s because I want to see how a real man should be fucking me, Joel.” You said, and he pokes his tongue out to lick his lips.

He swiftly grabs you, pulling you on top of him. His cock was now fully hard, and at the right angle, your clit caught onto it through the fabric of your bikini bottom. A low moan escaped you, tossing your head back. Joel’s heavy hands settled on your hips below the water, moving down to your ass to securely rest there. He gave it a squeeze before rutting you forward, grinding your aching core on his cock. You both sighed in pleasure as you continued to do so.

Your eyes snapped open as you looked at him, showing him you wanted him in you sooner rather than later. His eyes flickered from your gaze to your lips, which he’d been wanting to kiss but he didn’t know if that was crossing a boundary. You made the initial move and moved forward, pressing your lips to his.

Joel was surprisingly gentle with the kiss, threading his fingers through your hair. You kept grinding your hips into him, earning a throaty moan from him.

“Joel,” You pulled apart from his lips quickly. “I need you. Fuck, I need your cock so bad.” You beg, finally breaking. He smirked at you and you stood on your knees so he could pull his boxers down, freeing his erection once more. You just pulled your bikini bottom to the side, teasing his tip with your slit before he stopped you,

“Wait,” He said, and you halted your movements. “Are you on the pill?” It was nice that he was checking, because any dumb college boy you’ve hooked up with would’ve just been okay with buying you a plan B in the morning. Luckily you were smarter than they were, and thought about contraceptives way in advance.

“I have an IUD.” You say. He nods and lets you continue your teasing, before he pulled you down for another kiss. This time, you lined him up with your entrance before sliding down on him slowly, both of you swallowing each other’s moans. You were lucky the jets and bubbles were loud, or else anyone could’ve easily heard you both.

You went all the way until he was buried to the hilt, and you gripped this thick locks in pleasure. The stretch was fucking delicious, and you immediately began to move. You took the pain with the pleasure, the mix of both adding to the fuel of the fire that was your arousal.

You rocked your hips back and forth, and Joel was nearly choking on his own breath. “Fuck, baby, you’re so goddamn tight.” He hissed, tossing his head back. You used that as opportunity to kiss his neck, pulling more moans from him. He steadied your hips as he pulled you up and nearly off of him, before slamming you down on his cock again. You had to cover your mouth from nearly screaming out loud at the sensation. He continued this pattern, fucking up into you quickly as he captured your mouth with his. He swallowed your moans, one arm braced around your lower back as the other one held your neck securely.

The friction from the quick movements was enough to make you cum without warning, and your body trembled against his as he kept fucking up into you.

“Feels so fuckin’ good, Joel. Fuck you’re so big.”

“Yeah baby? Gonna ruin this little pussy. It’s mine.”

Fuck, that was dangerous territory, but his dirty talk spurred you both on as another orgasm was building up in your core again. Joel felt you fluttering around him, and he breathlessly chuckled. He nipped the flesh above your bikini top on your breasts, sure to leave a mark there for the following few days.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl, fuckin’ your dad’s best friend like this. Wonder what he’d say if he saw us both right now.” Joel groaned, chasing after his own orgasm.

“He’d–he’d k-kill us b-oth.” You stuttered as Joel’s cock hit a spot inside of you that had you fucking seeing stars.

“That’s it, there you go baby,” Joel felt as you clamped down on him, urging you on. “Cum with me.” Was all he said before your second orgasm ripped through you, his seconds later.

“Good girl.” Was all he said before you lifted yourself off of him a minute later, the loss of his heavy cock in you something devastating. You were heaving messes, the Texas night heat getting to you both.

Your dad really would kill you both if he ever found out about this. Well, more like he’d kill Joel, and you’d be banished from the family forever.

This whole ‘forbidden fruit’ thing was truly the most exhilarating thing you’ve ever done in your life, but surely with Joel it was just a one time thing…

Right?

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ghostfanwriter · 1 year ago

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✨🐙 Rough day 🐙 ✨

🐙 Pairing: Dbf! Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

✨Setting: No outbreak/Pre-outbreak.

🐙 Synopsis: You've had a rough day, and Joel does his best to help you.

✨Features: 🔞. Unprotected piv, cum eating and cum play, pet names, praising.

🐙 Word count: 1k.

✨ About this: Maybe I might write a longer version of this, who knows. Have a few ideas.

🐙 Author's note: This just flew out of my fingers. Super fun to write.

Good reading 🐙 ✨

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The sight did nothing to ease your stress level.

Joel Miller, your dad's best friend, all sweaty carrying heavy pieces of wood around while helping your dad renovate your deck.

You go upstairs, take a shower and lay on your bed, instantly opening the front of the towel you wrapped around your body and glueing your pink octups clit sucker to your pussy. At its slower setting at first, but quickly increasing the speed.

You cum at least twice, feeling the stress melt away from your body. The horrible day you've had a work seeming further and further away from you.

Your best efforts to muffle your moans seem to be in vain, as Joel opens your bedroom door after a few minutes, mesmerized by the view.

"Rough day, bunny?" He asks. Using the nickname he gave you when you met, when you were in highschool, because of the mascot on your cheerleading uniform.

You look up, startled.

Why did you leave the door open?

But instead of telling him to go away, you smile at him.

"And you're just gonna watch?" You tease, not slowing the clit sucker's speed.

"Not even that I should be doing, baby." He whispers, locking the door behind him.

"Am I gonna have to beg? Cause I know how." You say between moans as the thought of him and the toy between your legs become too much.

"Would love to see it baby." He says, approaching you.

You shift on your bed and the toy sucks on you so nice... Joel looks so good, towering over you on the bed... You cum before you even process it.

"But I can't see you needing my cock like this and not help you." He says while spreading your legs, turning your toy off, and setting it aside.

You pull his shirt, tossing it somewhere on the floor, and he's quick to get naked, kneeling between your legs and running his tip over your folds. He takes your hands in his, kissing your palm gently.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"I need you, Joel." You whisper, and he kisses you, slow and deep.

"So puffy already, so pretty, baby." He praises from above. "Fuck — So needy too." He grunts as he goes inside you, your already overwhelmed walls clenching around him.

"Joel." You moan with a laugh. "Fuck, so much." Your hands come to his torso, indulging in how big and strong he is.

You close your eyes and the sight from earlier comes back. His arms flexing, his nose scrunched when he lifted something heavy, his grunts as he did so.

Now his warmth on top of you, the relentless rhythm he sets going in and out of you, the way he wraps his arms underneath you, locking you with him, the way his hands pull on your hair, his grunts and groans on your neck.

His praises on your ears.

"Feels so fucking good, bunny, Jesus Christ."

"If I knew you were gonna be such a good girl for me... We'd have had so much more fun this whole time."

You can't help the embarrassingly eager orgasm that forms in your core. You do your best to roll your hips, meeting his thrusts as your walls start convulsing around him. You call his name like it's the only word you can remember.

"I'm right here, bunny. There you go, baby. Such a good fucking girl to me. So pretty all messy like this." He coos, slowing down his pace for a bit for you to recover.

You start whimpering when he slams his cock inside you again. "Too much, Joel. Fuck." You plead. "So full." You say, digging your nails on his shoulders.

"Shh, take it for me, baby." He coos. "You were so good for me till now, taking it like a big girl... So pretty. Not my fault you went for that silly toy before asking for my help." He smiles, reaching for it.

"Oh no, Joel. You're enough, please." You whimper as he lifts his hips just enough to glue the toy to your clit.

"Need one more to cum for you, bunny. Your daddy should be back at any minute." He says while you whimper and cry out underneath him. "Now quit your whining, c'mon. Take it for me."

You bite his shoulder to quiet your whines and whimpers, letting him take full control of your body, taking whatever he gives you.

"Squeeze me, baby. C'mon." He pants.

You cum when he lifts your knees, connecting them to your chest, the new angle combined with the toy sending you to heaven. His thrusts become more erratic.

"Fuck, such a good — grunts — greedy pussy, bunny. Holy shit, taking my cock so fucking well, so fucking tight for me." He pants, pulling out and pumping himself twice before cumming all over your stomach, cum pouring from him in thick and long streaks.

He drops his elbows besides your head, touching his forehead to yours. "Your daddy can't even fucking dream that this happened, baby." He kisses your cheek, right under your eye. "He would be so disappointed seeing you like this, bunny." He says before slapping your thigh. He gets off the bed, dressing back up.

"You're gonna make me clean your mess?" You ask playfully as you run your index finger through his cum, taking it to your lips.

"A grown man doesn't leave a girl like this, bunny." He says, opening your panties drawer and grabbing one of your nicest ones. "Just wash it before wearing it." He says before wiping the cum from your stomach.

"Thank you, Joel."

"Feeling better?"

"Like never before."

"My favorite girl." He says with a smile. "Did so good for me." He praises before getting up and leaving your room.

...

You take another shower and go downstairs, finding Joel and your dad at the couch, watching another old western. You sit between them, and, as soon as your dad starts snoring by your side, you take Joel's hand and put it between your legs.

"So wet for me already?" He asks with a smirk.

You lift your skirt, showing him your underwear.

The very same he used to clean his cum earlier.

He looks at you, his brows furrowed, lips apart.

"You and I are gonna have so much fun together, bunny." He whispers on your neck.

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Let me know what you think! May have another fic up in a few hours, maybe on Sunday, who knows.

Enjoy these works while I finish the thirst part of Dirty Hands 🩷

My Masterlist 🩷

#joel miller x reader #ghostfanwriter #fanfic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal's characters #joel miller x female reader #smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller drabble #joel miller writing #joel miller x afab!reader #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #dbf!joel miller

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strawhbrrries · 11 months ago

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Starin' Problem.

pairing: dbf!no outbreak!joel miller x afab!reader

summary: a red dress and a glass of whiskey is all it took for Joel to lose every ounce of self control he once had.

warnings: porn no plot, female pronouns, age gap (both consenting adults), unprotected p in v, fingering, creampie, slight creep joel, daddy kink, breeding kink...,mean joel, dirty talk, praise!!!, no use of y/n or descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 1.3k words

recommended listening: granite by sleep token

authors note: i'm pretty sure I had planned for this to take place at reader's parent's wedding but i never specified so it's just some fancy event they planned lmfao, enjoy <333

“Quit starin’.” Your father whispered into Joel’s ear, following his eyes to you, his daughter, across the room. “Let's not have a problem tonight.”

“I ain’t.” Joel grunted, taking a sip of the whiskey in his hand as he continued to watch you. “We won’t have any problems.”

He’d spent most of the night trying to decide if you’d worn any underwear under the dress, with a slit that ended right under your hip he was convinced you weren’t but then you’d turn a specific way and he swore he could make out a line. The low neckline left nothing to the imagination and only added to the torture you were putting Joel through at the hands of fashion, he never knew he could be so turned on by someone your age but here he was with a rock hard cock, staring like a creep.

“Whoever that guy with your dad is has been staring at you all night.” One of the girls you’d been standing with spoke, a hint of jealousy in her voice.

You turned your head around, making eye contact with Joel, and looking him up and down. You couldn’t deny the attraction you had for him, and the dark red suit your father had picked out to match the same red of the dresses your mom had picked out wasn’t helping at all. He looked you up and down before making eye contact with you again, taking another sip of his whiskey, and twirling a finger around.

“Joel? He’s probably on a secret mission to keep an eye on me.” You joked, acting like you had stepped on your dress as an excuse to spin around without anyone suspecting anything.

“He can keep an eye on me.” A different girl responded, giggling as they continued to joke about him.

He could’ve orgasmed right then and there as you spun around, the two of you hadn’t spoken all night and yet here you were entertaining him. His glass of whiskey was almost empty, if he played his cards right maybe he��d be able to get you alone, away from the annoying girls you’d been around all night.

You watched him glance at his glass before heading off to what you assumed was the kitchen, he hadn’t made any signal for you to follow but this was your moment.

“What would my dear father think if he knew his best friend was eyeing up his daughter?” You whispered, coming up behind Joel and dragging your nails down his back.

“Does his dear daughter care?” Joel whispered back, setting his glass down and turning around to face you. “Seemed like you quite enjoyed it.”

He trailed a finger over the neckline of your dress, hooking it under the fabric and exposing one of your breasts. A low groan escaped his throat, accompanied by him fixing his suit pants. His fingers found your nipple, rolling and tugging it slightly.

“Seems to me you’re enjoying it a whole bunch.” He chuckled, using his other hand to tilt your chin up, leaning down so your lips were inches apart.

“Fuck, Joel-”

He smashed his lips against yours, swallowing every whimper escaping your lips, pulling the other side of your dress down to expose both breasts. Your hands made quick work of unbuttoning his suit jacket, pulling it off of him and throwing it on the floor, before moving to his dress shirt.

“Naughty girl, lettin’ some old man touch you in a kitchen at your parent’s party.” He spoke against your lips, shoving your dress down to your hips and taking a step back to admire you. “God you’re fuckin’ pretty.”

“Joel, please.” You whined, grabbing at the last few buttons left on his shirt desperately as if it was going to get them unbuttoned faster.

“I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already beggin’. Fuckin’ whore.” He chuckled, helping you unbutton his shirt and tossing it to the side with his jacket. “Need some dick, huh?”

You shook your head, shoving the rest of the dress over your hips and onto the floor, grabbing his head and smashing your lips back together. His fingers danced their way down your skin, memorizing every bump and curve in the chance that he wouldn’t get to do this again, making their way under your thighs and lifting you onto the counter behind him.

He trailed a finger up and down your folds, gathering your wetness and bringing it to his mouth, groaning at the taste. The sensation of his finger slowly pushing in and out was so overwhelming, you were practically floating on cloud nine and there was nothing you’d change about it.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” Joel rasped, lips pressed up against your ear, removing the rest of his clothing. “Tell daddy how bad you need it.”

“Daddy, please…fuck- need it so bad.” Your words were barely audible, desperate and whiny.

The feeling of his cock pushing inside of you had you throwing your head back, hand slapped over your mouth to muffle any and all noise he’d pull out of you. He pulled back out slowly, watching your pussy grip his cock as he pushed back in. Forbidden sex had never felt so good, he’d find any and every reason to visit you after tonight if he could experience this again. His beard scratched against your neck as he bent over, pulling your body closer to him, sucking and biting at the skin he could reach.

“God, I could make you a fuckin’ mom.” Joel groaned, leaning his head further into the crook of your neck. “Look so fuckin’ pretty, full of my babies.”

“Daddy-”

“That’s right, say my name, baby.” He switched the arm that was bearing your weight and brought the newly freed hand to your hair, tugging it back enough so he could see your face.

His hips pistoned in and out, cock reaching places you didn’t even know it could, but if you told him that he’d make a joke about you not sleeping with a real man like him. He placed wet kisses down your neck and all the way down to your nipples, sucking on them in turns.

“Joel, please, I’m so close..” You cried, eyes filled to the brim with tears that threatened to spill at any moment.

“That’s too damn bad, because that’s not my name.” He chuckled, evilly, wiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks. “Try again, I know you can do it, baby.”

“Daddy, daddy please.”

“Good girl.”

He brought his thumb down to your clit, drawing figure eights in time with his thrusts, coaxing your orgasm right out of you. You slumped into him as it hit you, body shaking as it made its way through you. He continued to thrust into you, chasing his own white, hot high. Your small whimpers as you came back to the world was enough to send Joel over the edge, painting your insides a nice milky white. His own body slumping into yours as he recovered from the pleasure.

“Did such a good job, darlin’.” He praised, smoothing your hair down as you continued your way out of cloud nine. “Did so good for me.”

You gave him a weak smile, smoothing the hairs that were stuck to his sweaty forehead back to their spot. He sat you back down on the counter and filled his glass up with water before handing it to you, the aftertaste of whiskey was enough to perk you right up.

Joel helped you back into your dress, fixing your hair to cover the hickeys that were soon to appear, sliding your underwear back up but making sure to push his cum back inside of you before sliding them all the way up.

“C’mon, we got speeches to make.”

#maddies fics #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

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endlessthxxghts · 6 months ago

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Just One

DBF!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 819 (she just a baby!)

Summary: You’re still worked up even though Joel’s tapped out for the night. Maybe you need a kiss to satisfy you—a simple, sweet kiss. Right?

Content/Tags: Reader is able-bodied and has female sex anatomy, but is otherwise undescribed. Pussy pronouns (she)!! 18+ MDNI. Making out. Bulge grinding 😋 let me know if there’s anything I missed!

A/N: @pinkypromisepascal and I had a conversation…and then I said I wanted to write a drabble based on what we talked about, to which she said “DO IT.” So I did. Y’all better thank her brain for this too!🙂‍↕️ and to @strang3lov3, thank you for the extra pair of eyes AND THE MOODBOARD!!!😭 I love you both so much. To everyone, I hope you enjoy, all my love xx

masterlist | notifs blog

It’s been thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes since Joel had you folded nearly in half, your legs pressed against your torso, the slam of his hips pushing you higher up his mattress.

Thirty minutes since he made your eyes roll back, throat burning in pleasure.

Thirty minutes since he wiped you clean and massaged your hips.

It’s been thirty minutes.

And he’s knocked the fuck out.

You sit up in his bed. You’re not here very often. Ever, really. It was by chance you stayed over tonight. So you study the area. Take his space in. The painting and posters above his bed. The nightstand. The white fan sitting on his dresser, pointing directly at him. He runs hot when he sleeps. Too hot.

Your eyes trace his figure, then. His broad back on display, hips covered by his sheets.

His face. God, his face. Salt and pepper scruff around the edges, smile lines and furrowed eyebrow lines adorning his face. They’re not as harsh now as he succumbs deeper into his slumber, but they’re present nonetheless.

His hooked nose sits prettily, the same nose that had you squirming and gasping for air earlier in the night. Your core flutters at the thought.

You’re looking at his lips now, and you can’t help the way your own forms a smirk.

“Joel,” you whisper.

A rock. Unmoving. Unfazed.

On your knees now, you shuffle to face him. Leaning forward, hand on his shoulder to nudge him, you try again.

“Joel.”

“Hm?” his sleepy voice rasps.

“I need your help,” you respond.

One eye peels open. His eyebrows move into their natural habitat, furrowed. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

You put on your sweetest face. “Can I have a kiss?”

You stifle a giggle at the daggers being thrown at you. “Jesus,” he mutters. “Have you been up this whole time?”

“It’s been thirty minutes,” you retort.

“No, it ain’t—” you gesture to his clock before he can finish his thought. He faces it immediately, throwing his face back into his pillow with an incoherent grumble. “Sleep,” he finally says.

“I will, sleeping beauty,” you giggle. “Can I please have a kiss first? Just one,” you ask again, lowering your voice an octave, a tone he can never deny.

He flips himself over, so he’s more on his back now. “It’s never just one.”

“That’s not true,” you fake pout, leaning closer in, letting the tips of your nose dance.

“You said one kiss months ago. Look where that got us.” His breath fans against your lips.

“I don’t see you complaining,” you whisper, your body on fire with this conversation.

You let your lips finally meet, soft and sweet, but the heat building in your cheeks keeps you from breaking the seal. Without thinking, you climb on top of him, straddling him as your hands find the base of his neck, the length beneath you already beginning to stir.

You break away for less than a second before you bring your lips to his again, but he’s quick to stop you, a shit-eating grin between his cheeks. “Thought ya said one?” He breathes.

“Shut up,” you murmur, smashing your lips against his once more as your tongue coasts the expanse of his bottom lip, the taste of you from earlier still lingering.

“Shit, sugar,” he groans into your mouth, his hips bucking into you on their own accord. “She’s still so needy, ain’t she? That why ya can’t sleep?”

His bulge catches perfectly where you need him most, pulling a whimper from the back of your throat. “Please, baby,” you pant.

“Told ya ‘s never jus’ one kiss,” he rasps as his heavy hands grab at your waist, guiding your hips into a more frenzied rhythm.

“You’re right,” you cry, eyes clamping shut, nothing but the sweet sounds of your ecstasy blessing his ears.

Too blissed out to continue kissing him, you bring your lips to his jaw, nipping and licking the places you can reach. With a few harsh grinds of your hips, you’re moaning out into his ear—his partially deaf one, luckily—with millions of white sparkles flashing beneath your eyelids. Joel’s breathing stops at the same moment your body convulses, strangled grunts leaving his throat as he adds to your mess of his boxers.

“She satisfied, yet?” He hums as you lay across his sweaty chest.

“Mmm,” you pretend to think it over. “I think it’s her turn for a kiss now.”

Joel scoffs. You can hear his smile with it.

You lift your head to look him in the eyes, a faux innocence in the way you jut out your bottom lip. “Just one, baby,” you reason with him.

Joel tosses you to your unspoken side of the bed. “Sleep.”

“But—”

“She’ll get her kiss in the morning.”

Your eyes nearly pop out at the realization of his words. “G-Goodnight, baby,” you reply quickly.

“‘S what I thought. G’night, darlin’.”

I would love to hear what you guys think! I love you all so much, thank you for always sticking by my side and supporting me always. You all are my happy place. Wouldn't be where I am without you.🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

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ozarkthedog · 5 months ago

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𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

summary: dbf!joel video calls you during a meal with your parents.

warnings: 18+ mdni. toxic dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. unspecified age gap. daddy kink. tit play. dirty talk. male masturbation. no beta. w.c: 641

author's note: spawned from the "who's your daddy?" clip and @mrsmando mentioning toxic dbf!joel. 😘

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Doin' the right thing pickin' up," Joel praises with a velvety tone as he moves his phone to rest in front of his chest.

The video screen displays his tan, aging face, slicked-back gray hair, and trimmed silver whiskers. He's reclined in a chair wearing a white t-shirt under a gray flannel button-up like he just got home from a job. "Be a good girl 'n show me those pretty tits."

Your eyes bug at his command. Thank god you stepped out onto the deck and shut the slider.

"Joel, not now. Please." You'd been eating dinner with your parents, and now you're on a video call with your dad's best friend, who's asking to see your tits.

Not that he hasn't already seen them and every other inch of you.

"C'mon now, show me wha's mine," he pesters with a clipped, unwavering command.

You nervously peer through the glass slider and into the kitchen, praying your parents don't come outside before lifting your top and showing the older man your bare breasts.

"Thatta girl." A deep, tinny groan spills from the tiny speakers and nestles in your lower belly. Your cunt throbs at the sound. Sticky arousal leaks into the gusset of your panties as you squeeze your breasts together between your arms, propping them up for him.

"Jus' what I needed," he praises with ravenous eyes locked on the lower part of the screen, shamelessly drinking in the image of your naked chest. "Wanna get my hands on those fuckin' pretty tits. Suck 'n bite 'em until you're cryin'."

A chilly gust blows through the trees and races up your spine, making your skin prickle under Joel's heated stare. He darkly hums as your nips pucker and stands at attention for him. "Looks like someone likes bein' a slut."

Your chest heaves, breasts lightly bouncing as an intense wave of lust sends shocks rippling through your system. His body shifts, and you hear the click of his belt before his left, flannel-clad arm begins moving up and down out of frame. A gravelly moan pours from his pouty lips and drips through the speakers straight into your quivering cunt.

"Go on, give 'em a pinch."

You acquiesce, giving into his demand and your own greedy perversion, and palm one of your breasts. Your flesh prickles as you playfully circle a pert bud and lightly pinch it, letting a soft mewl tumble into the night.

"Who's your Daddy?" He asks with a throaty groan; the muscles in his neck pulse under his freckled, tan skin as he jerks his cock.

Your cheeks flame at his words, and you can't help but pathetically whimper.

"C'mon, say it, or else I'm comin' over," he states, cocking his head with a deadly smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips. "'N we both know it'd kill him to see what a lil' whore his daughter turned into."

A gasp tears from your parted lips. He wouldn't-

"Best do as you're told, pretty girl. Don' wanna disappoint me now, do ya?"

Your eyes flutter, and you nervously lick your bottom lip, making it shine under the deck light.

"Daddy."

Syrupy slick flows freely from your cunt, drenching your panties as you softly chant the word "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy" over and over to the older man. Your cunt pulses in time with his movements, wishing he was fucking his cock into you instead of his fist.

He jerks his length greedily, faster and faster, until his neck flushes like a golden sunset, his eyes pinch tight, and he comes with a hoarse growl between gritted teeth.

Ropes of white land on his heaving chest, staining his button-up. The sight makes you lightheaded, and you fall back against the side of the house, breathless.

"Next time, I'm leavin' my mark on 'em," he gruffly declares before abruptly ending the call, leaving you to stare at your pathetic, wanton reflection in the murky black screen.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal

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devilmademewriteit · 2 years ago

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Dark but Just a Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: your dad’s associate and friend, joel miller, finally tires of your constant teasing

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mention of reader having long-ish hair; alcohol consumption & drunkenness; pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby); dubcon (intoxication, power imbalance); age gap.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites aka that’s bestfren

word count: 3.7k

no use of y/n in this fic.

Click to read part 2: Pretty When You Cry

Click to read part 3: Let Me Love You Like a Woman

ahhhh this is my first time writing for joel so any and all feedback is super appreciated. i was slightly inspired by the amazing dbf!joel drabbles that @anchoeritic writes (seriously, if you enjoy this fic, go read them). as always, my requests are open !!

—

THEN,

It started out so innocently.

Your dad often helped Tess and Joel smuggle contraband in and out of the QZ, sometimes by keeping the right people quiet, other times by offering the pair a place to lay low at. You got accustomed to the sight of them passed out on the floor, the glow of the sunrise illuminating only their sleeping faces, or else a murmuring trio of hushed voices in the middle of the night.

Soon, however, you began to notice the way Joel’s eyes seemed to trail on you, often catching his hardened gaze in yours. Still, he rarely spoke to you and when he did, he mostly just grunted a “hullo” or asked if your father was around.

But you suspected that he noticed you.

Especially when your old clothes got too tight, hugging your skin and leaving little to the imagination. You observed his breath hitching the very first time he saw you in a skirt.

So, naturally, you played into it. You started sneaking downstairs in the morning wearing only a t-shirt and your underwear, feigning innocence at the way (you imagined) he tried, hard, not to look at your ass as you sauntered back up to your room.

Sometimes, you bumped into him on the streets of the QZ. You’d loop your arm around his broad bicep, wide-eyed, gazing up at him through your eyelashes and asking why he hadn’t dropped by to say hello recently. Causing him to tense beneath your hands always felt electrifying; the restraint in his grumbled “soon” always felt like a victory.

When it was dark out and he, Tess, and your dad shared a drink together on the dusty-old-living-room-couch, you made sure to lock eyes with him, taking in the danger lurking in them. He’d look away, leaning back casually and adjusting his jeans.

But—it was always innocent.

It was a game you played with yourself; one you weren’t even sure he was in on. Life in the QZ got dull, and there were only so many good-looking men your age that your dad’s work allowed you to see.

Sometimes, when business was good, your old man got his hands on an extra shipment of liquor, inviting all of his favourite bandits in the Zone and throwing a “party” in one of the run-down, less monitored buildings. You did yourself up as best as you knew how to, shared a flask with your friends and flirted with young smugglers.

It was seedy, but it was fun.

Joel was always there, usually asking around for parts or looking to cut deals. Usually, he drank and stayed out of your way.

Once, however, after being extremely irresponsible with your consumption, you found yourself alone with Andy, a young FEDRA guard (working for your side, of course), slurring your words and stumbling on your feet. He was good-looking in a boyish way and handsy to high heavens. You vaguely remembered his insistence on taking you back to his place and the feel of his wet lips against yours. You clearly remembered hearing a gruff, “Get off,”—Joel’s baritone echo taking you both by surprise. Andy’s head swung to find Miller’s looming form in the doorway; he immediately tore his hands from your body and scampered off. You were alone with Joel, his expression a mask of rage and contempt tinged with—could it have been—jealousy?

After that, it was all bits and pieces of blurred images and sounds. Big hands pulled you into strong arms; your feet were lifted from the ground. You retained flashes of drunken faces smiling and jeering at you as you were carried away from the festivities—then it was dilapidated hallways, the jangling of keys fumbling with a lock, and finally, the ceiling above your bed as Joel gently set you down. Even now, you could clearly picture the way his eyes traveled along your exposed skin as he stood, arms crossed, at the edge of the bed.

Sitting up, fixing your drunken, playful eyes to look deeply into his, you slurred, “Got a bit jealous?”

He said nothing. He only held your gaze and crossed his arms, the muscles beneath flexing and relaxing in rhythm with the motion.

“C’mon Joel,” you teased him, “so serious, all the time. I was fine.”

Now that had an effect.

He growled, “one more minute with that asshole…” and shook his head, his words trailing off as he fought the urge to take your bait. “Just go to sleep. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He turned, heading towards the door. Perhaps the excess liquor made you reckless or Andy’s kisses left you wanting—either way, you needed to push the limits with Joel. You needed him to stay, to turn around and play your game.

“I could thank you now, if you want.”

He stopped in his tracks, his head slowly turning to the side. Your blood burned in your veins, both from the alcohol and from the tension pulsing between you and him in that darkened room. He paused for a moment and it felt like a lifetime—laid on the bed, watching his shoulders move with every breath he took. He flexed a hand, something he often did when he was around you.

Finally, he spoke.

“Go to sleep.”

And with that, he shut off the light and left the room, closing the door behind him.

So, you decided it was probably all in your head. Maybe the looks and the tension and the teasing were just part of a one-sided game you played with yourself. Still, you couldn’t help thinking about the strain in his voice when he ordered you to bed or the anger that went beyond disdain and contempt at the sight of Andy’s hands exploring your body. You regularly reminisced about the events of that night, most often without meaning to. Most often alone, between the hours of one and three AM, sneaking a guilty hand down between your thighs.

That was the last time Joel had interacted with you.

At least before tonight.

—

NOW,

Joel stands between Tess and a seedy looking short guy you’ve never seen before, clearly not paying attention to whatever the two of them are hashing out. Tensions are low, which makes Joel look comically out of place. He lifts a silver flask to his lips.

The chatter of people talking and laughing fills the narrow, dusty space—from somewhere down the hall, you hear your father’s booming laugh. You’re finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on whatever your peers are gushing on about. The warmth in your stomach and the buzz under your skin from whatever liquor finds its way into your cup brings you back to the last time you’d seen Joel at one of these get-togethers.

“Can’t believe Miller comes to these things,” one such peer—a bandit in training, your good friend Emma—remarks. “Weird seeing him… well, not relaxed but… not stressed.”

You laugh. “I know, right. When he’s passed out, I don’t even recognize him. Looks completely different without his signature scowl.”

She turns away from him, focusing her attention instead on you. “Right,” she says, “I forgot him and your dad…” She trails off, her expression changing as her interests do, as well.

Emma suddenly smirks at you. “Does he sleep naked?” she asks, mischievous. This piques the interest of the others paying attention to your conversation, who subsequently tune in to hear your answer.

You smile, shaking your head. “No,” you respond, keeping your voice low. “Fully clothed—with his gun in hand.”

Emma’s eyes settle back on Joel as her smile fades. The other delinquents go back to their respective conversations. “Such a shame,” she says, wistfully. “I’d bet a month’s rations that his dick is huge.”

You giggle at that and she passes you the flask. You take a big swig, heat blooming across your tongue as the whiskey burns down your throat.

He catches you staring—his eyes darken when he notices the drink in your hand. Smiling innocuously at him, you wave your fingers in an extremely girlish greeting gesture. He raises his thick eyebrows, unimpressed.

A familiar figure interrupts your silent conversation.

“Hey,” Andy says, his voice unsure and subdued.

“Hey.”

He looks rumpled and flushed, as though recent weeks had not been kind to him. Andy’s not-brown-not-blonde hair hangs limp around his crown, mirroring the defeated air his stature gives off. Despite the near foot he has on you, he seems ironically small.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Look,” he tries, awkwardly stuffing his fingers in his pockets, “I’m sorry about last time. I was really drunk and I don’t really remember what I said, but I know it wasn’t cool.”

You scoff. “I don’t really think it was so much what you said, Andy,” you respond playfully. After all, you know he meant no harm. Drunk people get horny, and you had both been very drunk. “Don’t worry about it. No hard feelings,” you add.

That’s when, from over Andy’s shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Joel’s expression. Pure disapproval. Cold, ruthless contempt burns in his eyes.

“At least not from me.”

Andy turns around slowly, following your eye-line. By the time he clues in to who you’re referring to, Joel’s already looked away, turning his attention to the still-ongoing conversation between Tess and the stranger.

“Right,” Andy says, wincing. “He’s been giving me a hard time on the streets.”

“Don’t sweat over Miller,” Emma interjects casually. “He gives everyone a hard time.”

Once again, you find yourself distracted from the conversation, focussing on a different man in the room. Why should he get to decide when you get to be wild? What business does he have protecting you from other guys? After all, Joel Miller is not your father.

It frustrates you that he keeps pretending not to notice your stare. It frustrates you that he keeps his head ducked, feigning interest in the deal being made beside him. Taking in his size, the salt-and-pepper of his hair, and the fierce angle of his jaw, you steal another swig from the flask, wiping the excess off your lips.

It emboldens you.

Leaning up on your tippy-toes, you muster up your most sensual tone, whispering softly in Andy’s ear: “Let me make it up to you.”

You pull back to catch his look of disbelief, his pouty pink lips parting slightly as he struggles to locate his words. Grabbing his hand in yours, you nod your head to the right, wordlessly encouraging him to take you down the hall. He obeys without a sound.

You quickly shove the flask back into Emma’s hand.

“Save some for after,” you plead, and she shakes her head, tossing you an exaggerated eye-roll.

You lock eyes with Joel momentarily before you’re pulled down the hall, satisfaction leaking from your gaze—you’re not quite sure why. You break away, ignoring the non-verbal warning in his stare.

Who cares what he thinks, anyways?

You wind up in a run-down, dim-lit room, empty save for an old desk. Andy pins you against the wall as soon as the door creaks to a close behind you, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy, tipsy kiss. His hands travel south to grab your ass and you respond by wrapping your arms around his neck. Things heat up—his clumsy fingers brush the fabric over your breasts and you dig your hip into the bulge beneath his denim.

It’s not that you want Andy. Frankly? It could be anyone. None of the boys you hang out with really interest you beyond being potential partners for youthful experimentation—which is exactly what Andy is to you. In all likelihood, that’s not what you are to him.

Oh well. Those are morning thoughts.

Andy’s hands snake under your shirt, the pads of his fingertips creeping up to your breasts.

The door slams open.

Andy basically leaps off of you, a horrified expression settling on his features as he registers the identity of the intruder—as history repeats itself.

“Out,” Joel orders through gritted teeth, holding the door open for the boy to walk through. Andy practically sprints free—without risking a goodbye, without uttering a “sir, yes sir.”

You sigh once you and Joel are alone, adjusting your clothing and casually leaning back against the wall.

“Okay, Joel,” you say, exasperation coating your words. “What’s this all about.”

Wordlessly, he closes the door and locks the handle. His movements are slow, precise, and calculated—butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He approaches you, leaning one hand against the wall behind your head and using a pair of thick, callused fingers to tilt your head up. He smells like sandalwood and hard liquor; he smells like a man. Electricity crackles throughout your entire being.

The touch of his hand on your face drains every last drop of your boldness.

“I think,” he grumbles out, his voice low, gravelly, dangerous, “You know exactly what this is about.”

You swallow, focussing all your energy on holding his severe gaze. Between your thighs, your nerves begin to pulse, responding to his proximity with enthusiasm.

“No, I really don’t,” you respond, mustering up some confidence from god-knows-where to render your tone convincing.

He scowls. “S’lil’ game you’re playin’,” he mutters softly, coolly. “Comin’ downstairs half-naked, clingin’ onto me in public when you know I can’t do anything…”

He shakes his head, his grip on your jaw tensing slightly.

This time, when he speaks, his tone is hoarse. “What are you tryin’ to get out of it?”

A smile creeps onto your face at the anguish in his voice.

So you hadn’t imagined it. Joel had been in on it from the start.

You look up at him with big, sultry eyes, taunting him. There’s no point in avoiding the truth anymore—you want joel. And you’ve never really been the type to not go for what you want.

In this moment, you’re willing to risk anything to have Joel do something, anything to you.

Wicked innocence drips off your every word as you purr, “Whatever you’ve been dying to give me, Joel.”

You watch your answer take effect. A vein in his jaw twitches—lust floods his eyes.

In a flash, you’re facing the wall with both hands pinned above your head by one much larger, much stronger hand. Joel’s weight presses against you, pinning you in place.

“That right, angel?” Joel challenges under his breath as his other hand explores your chest, grabbing roughly at your breasts. “Want me to show you what I’ve had in mind?”

His hand travels towards your underwear, sliding down your front in a tantalizing motion; you moan before his fingers even brush your most sensitive spot.

“I do, Joel,” you moan, desperate for his touch. The feel of his chest against your spine is intoxicating, your mind goes blank at the sensation of his cock pressed against your ass.

Joel’s index and middle fingers find your clit, rubbing torturous circles around the throbbing bud. His thumb presses into your skin, anchoring his hand in place.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he groans. “Wonder what your dad’d say if he knew his lil’ girl was soakin’ wet for this cock.”

He slips a finger inside you, curling it up, making your mouth gape open in a silent ah and your eyebrows crease together. “You think of me when you’re touchin’ this pretty pussy?” Gasping and struggling against his hold, you nod enthusiastically, overwhelmed by the feel of him inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, wanting more, more, more.

“Manners,” he growls, tightening his grasp on your wrists. “Please, Joel,” he corrects, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt, his palm flattened and working against your swollen clit.

“Please-please, Joel,” you gasp out, throwing your head back against the crook of his shoulder. He leans forward, laying a soft kiss in the delicate nook of your neck. Then, he’s releasing you, pulling his fingers out and taking a step back.

He gestures to the desk.

“Facedown, sweetheart.”

You obey, stumbling over to it and laying your chest against the cold wood. It stings and you shiver.

Joel fumbles with his belt and then he’s behind you, unzipping his fly and pulling his length out. With your cheek laid against the desk, you get a perfect view of him towering over you, a dark God, holding his cock in his hand.

Emma had been right.

“You gotta be quiet,” he warns, before flipping up your skirt. He groans at the sight of your ass, roughly grabbing one cheek and squeezing it—hard.

“I will be,” you whine, desperate to take him in.

He chuckles, pulling down your dripping panties, letting them fall to your ankles. His tip runs between your folds, teasing your clit in tormenting strokes. You whine and moan, “Joel-s’good,” responding to every brush of his tip.

“You’re needy,” he says, gruffly.

He pushes his cock deep into your cunt, settling every inch of himself inside you.

“I like needy.”

You gasp at the sting and the pleasure and the fullness, unable to control yourself. Joel is huge—your walls wrap tightly around him as he pulls out near-completely before snapping his hips against your ass, filling you up to the brim again. You cry out as he holds your arms in place, setting a rhythm, grabbing you just as roughly as he fucks you.

“Joel,” you moan loudly before a large hand slaps over your lips.

“Shut up,” he growls.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you give yourself to him entirely, cravenly grinding against his hips.

“Look at you, fuckin’ yourself on my cock,” he taunts. “Takin’ it so good, pretty girl.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes through the room, dirty and filthy and hot.

Joel’s fingers muffle your moans of abandonment, every “fuck,” “yes,” and “thank you,” coming out simply as “mmm.”

“This what you fuckin’ wanted?” he asks gruffly, leaning a hand next to your head and bending forward to loom over you. “Gettin’ fucked by a man twice your age?”

The angle allows him to push even more of his length inside you, causing you to squirm pathetically against his hips. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he adds, “That right, pretty girl?”

You nod eagerly, your eyes growing heavy, filling with abandon.

He looses a hollow laugh. “Needy lil’ thing,” he breathes, tangling his fingers in your hair. “With a needy lil’ pussy.”

Freeing your mouth, he throws his head back, straightening out and bringing both hands to your circle your waist. Now, he fucks you fast and brutally, his breath coming heavy and hard. With every stroke, Joel’s tip grazes your inner most sensitive spot, causing sheer ecstasy to radiate throughout your core.

“Come inside me, Joel,” you beg. “Come in me—please.”

Joel groans sinfully. “Can’t do that, sweetheart.”

Fluttering waves ripple from your cunt down your legs, threatening to take you over the edge.

“Joel,” you half-sob, “I’m gonna-”

He slows down, thrusting into you in great, harsh strokes, well-versed in the art of bringing a woman to climax. You cry out as your orgasm tears through you, unable to form words or thoughts or anything beyond “Joel,” “Ohmygod,” and “yes-yes-yes.”

“S’it baby,” he coaxes. “Come aaalll over my cock.”

Your walls clench around him, your pussy just as desperate as you are to keep him tucked inside you.

He exhales shakily, grabbing fistfuls of your ass in his hands.

“Fuck it,” he groans, thrusting faster inside you. “M’gonna fill you up.” Your eyes are still rolled to the back of your head, your hands desperately searching for something to grasp onto. His cock swells inside you, tensing up between your walls as his seed spills out between them—he comes with an “oh fuck” and a final, brutal stroke.

You lie still for a moment, listening to the sound of your ragged breathing harmonizing with Joel’s. He runs a massive hand along your arm, his touch suddenly delicate, revering.

“You’d better fuckin’ pray I can find the pill for you tomorrow,” he says finally, his husky voice both amazed and amused.

Lifting your chest off the table, you slowly flip around, perching on the edge to face him as he reorganizes his clothes, pulling his boxers up and tugging at his fly. He looks so handsome between your knees, with his hair slightly disheveled and his shirt all rumpled.

“Get extra,” you coo, your breath still uneven, your thoughts still bungled. You run a slight hand devotedly down his plaid shirt, marvelling at the pleasure the proximity brings you.

He laughs low, shaking his head. “S’was a one-time deal, angel,” he says with a smile. He finishes doing up his belt and leans both his hands on the table, his nose just centimeters away from your own. “Can’t be caught fuckin’ my associates’ daughters—bad for business,” he adds, pulling your underwear back up your thighs. You adjust yourself and pout at him, playfully.

“You didn’t like it?” you ask, pretend-innocence soaking your tone.

He smiles softly. “I liked it too much,” he responds. “S’why it can’t happen again.”

You raise your eyebrows defiantly. “Well, I’m not gonna make it easy on you, Miller.”

He slowly straightens up, offering you a hand as you scoot off the desk. Your legs feel shaky, but his hold anchors you in place.

“M’countin’ on that.”

With that said, he gestures for you to leave the room, following closely behind you. He opens the door and you peer into the hallway, making note of its emptiness before stepping out. Joel exits soon after, taking off in the opposite direction. You catch him looking back at you, a dazed, hungry look still lingering on his expression.

It makes you smile.

Later that night, you find Emma and Joel finds Tess. You’re back to your side of the divide and he’s back to his.

It’s as though nothing ever happened.

“Hey, check it out,” Emma remarks. “Miller actually looks, like, chilled-out,” she slurs loudly.

You smile knowingly, nodding in agreement.

“‘Guess he found a way to blow off steam.”

She gives you a quick, faded nod before becoming absorbed in something else. It doesn’t bother you. You’re also absorbed in something else: lost in thought, consumed by the lingering echoes and traces of Joel’s skin on yours.

When you catch his eye from across the room, you can tell that his thoughts are haunted by the very same thing.

This was no longer an innocent game.

It was a dirty secret.

—

Read part 2: Pretty When You Cry

Read part 3: Let Me Love You Like a Woman (Let Me Hold You Like a Baby)

12K notes · View notes

tremendum · 1 year ago

Text

personal lies

[not my gif. title from the song of the same name, by Djo.] pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 5.6k requested: Hi! Your work is so insane and incredible! I've literally been thinking about Joel Miller nonstop and was wondering if you'd write a fic where reader is flirty but also has a way of getting herself into clumsy situations- like she bends over to grab something at a party and Joel turns around at the same time and he's pressed right against reader's ass- and these situations keep happening and she just bullies him about him being a pervert until he finally does something about it ;) Keep up the incredible writing!! summary: "when you were young, you'd always thought Joel was handsome - but he was just your dad's friend, someone who would make you blush strictly because he was teasing you. now, though - he makes your cheeks flush for a whole new plethora of reasons." warnings: healthy age gap (reader is around 23, Joel is like 47), DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel, brat tamer!Joel, brat!reader, dom!Joel, semi-public sex, light voyeurism, choking, light dacryphilia, inappropriate use of household appliances, use of word slut, its dirty, slight allusions to exhibitionism, brief choking, so much dirty talk (its joel), so much degradation, reader calls Joel a pervert, teasing, slight dumbification, brief spitting, rough sex, unprotected PiV, cum play, spanking. think that's it!

notes: okay once again, another mean!Joel for the soul! its a problem! im happy for this request bc it helped so much with my writer's block. pls pls keep sending requests i love them all u guys are amazing.

[other Joel fics: i’ve got headaches and bad luck but they couldn’t touch you fever landmines Mr. Miller Series ]

★

the bathroom window fogs much quicker than it used to.

it's the first thing you've realized since returning back to your childhood home - the lack of use in your old shower, now empty of all the half-used floral shampoos and body scrubs of your youth.

you suppose it makes sense, with your father living on his own now that you're five years out of the house - he has no real need to shower in the bathroom you'd once used as your own. in fact, as you examine under the cabinets and the medicine cupboard, it seems as though he's converted it into a storage room for cleaning supplies and the odd bundle of cotton swabs.

it makes you grin as you massage lotion into your legs, staring at your foggy reflection.

your father's muffled voice from downstairs shouts something and, in lieu of a response, you towel off and wrap it around yourself, cursing your father for not restocking towels that were large enough to cover yourself in a modest way to your trek back to your room; not that it much matters, your father's friends won't be arriving for another hour and a half, at the least.

you're struck with something from your youth when you open the door, though -

and it grunts in response.

the breath leaves your throat as your eyes drag over the expanse of chest which lies just in front of the bathroom, with a hand extended almost as if he were about to open the door - muscular arms and a familiar wristwatch - certainly not your father's.

you gape up at Joel Miller, who stares, wide-eyed, back down at your form.

your face floods with an immense amount of heat; Joel Miller, your father's closest friend.

you haven't seen him since last summer - and before then it was even more scarce. between college out of state and splitting summers with your father and mother, before your visit home last summer, you don't think you'd seen him since you left for university.

he's changed, but not that much - tan, with hair that curls at the nape of his neck, a nicely fit t-shirt that brings out the honey of his eyes. now, though, he's got slight smile lines on his face that compliment his striking, burly features and a peppering of gray through his hair; your mouth runs dry as you take in the large frame of thick shoulders and contoured biceps. christ.

when you were a teen, you'd always thought Joel was handsome - he was kind, funny, and would always buy you iced tea when he ran for some beers for him and your father after a day working around the house or in the yard. but he was just your dad's friend, someone who made you blush strictly because he was teasing you.

now, though - ever since last summer when you'd caught his eyes lingering on your figure a few too many times, he makes your cheeks flush for a whole new plethora of reasons. it was a thrilling game you came to know last summer - the way he’d flush and clench his jaw after every quip, each slight tease of phrase, wink, of riding up of your skirt when he walked by.

it makes your stomach flip still - and the most delicious part of it all is the smoldering glares he'd give you when you pushed him too far; last summer, you'd discovered the only good thing about your clumsy, teasing nature: Joel's reactions.

he’s everything the gentleman, always has been - even when you pushed his buttons, flustered him, he never lost his cool. only ever let his eyes wander and speak for themselves.

so when you open the door directly into him, you’re shocked to see him standing there, eyes wide.

his appearance throws you off, as there was nobody besides your father in the house when you'd stepped into the shower minutes before. tilting your head, you regain your footing quickly, heart picking up as you see his eyes rake over the length of your legs, exposed from the tiny pink towel you wear.

it’s been far too long you think, noting the change in his face when he recognizes you.

his eyes scour over every curve of your body, as if seeing you for the first time- you can’t hide your smirk. "can I help you with something, Joel?"

his eyes avert just as quick as they found you, staring at something extremely interesting just above the crown of your head. "was lookin' for some rags. your father spilled downstairs." he shifts on his feet, looking into the steamy bathroom behind your frame, "didn't realize there was anybody home..."

you hum, lifting a brow, "good thing I came out when I did," you send him a sly grin, "or else you'd have gotten a show." you tease, shooting him a gentle wink.

his eyes narrow slightly, tilting his head. he mutters your name lowly and it strikes you that you haven’t seen him in over a year and here you are, staring up at him, in a minuscule towel.

“watch it. didn’t know y’were in there.” he utters, sounding defensive as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

the rumble of your name as it leaves his lips is insatiable; it bathes you in heat as his eyes flicker down towards your chest and back up to your eyes and you smirk, a light tut leaving your mouth.

"sure you didn’t, Joel.”

he cocks a brow at your implications, his head tilting slightly, but he says nothing. your father yells something about warped wood downstairs and the moment snaps, Joel clearing his throat and you looking away.

“I'm onto you, perv." you smirk, winking once again. you don't give yourself the chance to see his reaction as you brush past him, a flick of your wet hair trailing over the green cotton of the shirt that hugs his biceps. you don't hear him move even as you slide past your door and shut it.

it’s not until you’re inside your room that you hear the bathroom door slam so hard it reverberates through your walls. you fight your racing heartbeat and dull throb of arousal, pressing your fingers against your hot cheeks.

"honey?" your dad calls as you leave your room.

“Joel's here. come say hi and help us set up."

your heart skips, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you round the stairs, where the two men stand at the bottom. feigning surprise, you start down the steps towards them. "hi, Mr. Miller." you say pleasantly, "when did you get here?"

Joel's eyes flash with something as he watches you, tilting his head as if trying to decipher what you're playing at - as if he didn’t see you in a towel thirty minutes ago.

"little bit ago." he responds, shifting on his feet and watching you with crossed arms. “when did you get here?” he counters, nodding to your suitcase, which sits still at the top of your stairs.

your dad laughs at your words, though, breaking the tension he didn't even feel before you can answer Joel’s question. "-Mr. Miller? since when did you have any manners?" your dad snorts, "been calling him Joel as long as I have." you roll your eyes playfully at him, reaching the last step, still a few inches shorter than the man next to your dad.

Joel’s eyebrows raise; you look away as you grin. “trying to be polite, I guess. it’s been a bit.” you shrug.

"guess they did teach ya something mature in college, huh?" you dad smirks, nudging your arm. you flush and shrug just as Joel swallows, "haven't seen you in a while, sweetheart." he nods, "how've you been?"

you smile, "been really good, Joel. better now that I get to see my favorite old man." you tease, stepping between the two men, eyes trailing over Joel's gaze even as you walk away. despite your dad's grunt of offense at your joke, he still grins, "you look nice, honey." he says, patting your shoulder.

you smile, not breaking eye contact with Joel as you hum, "thanks, I just showered."

the crowd is thicker than you expected.

you didn’t know your father even had this many friends.

besides your own friends who you’d invited to come catch up, you spent the afternoon chatting with nearly every person in the old neighborhood you’d ever met.

if you thought being home from school while you were a student was bad, being freshly graduated at a backyard barbeque full of your dad's friends was much, much worse.

flocks of couples, neighbors, and family friends gravitate towards you in waves, asking about your achievements and new job and oh, what's it like in the big city?

you're barely able to break away for a minute to stalk over to the side of your house, nestled up in the grass of your backyard, to grab refreshments - sure, you've already had a few beers and you're not particularly thirsty, but Joel's leaning up against the side of the house and you're drawn with a heat in your abdomen towards him.

a small group of men talk just next to the coolers, engrossed in some conversation that holds no interest to you; but he's there, and something inside you screams for his attention.

you barely brush his back to excuse yourself past the bodies, reaching down into the cooler to fish out something palatable.

but your blood runs just as cold as the ice in your hand when a sudden pressure against your ass sends a shiver of desire through you.

you instinctively gasp. the pressure of someone’s hips pressing firmly but briefly against your ass, by accident, startles you as you stand up, a pulsing desire spreading through you instantly once you see Joel, face in shock, behind you.

you swallow; he must have turned after thinking someone’d tried to get his attention, just as you’d bent over. your face heats up.

you're met with eyes that hold awkward shock and a small dark flame that flickers slowly as your shame suddenly melts into a smirk, lunging at the perfect opportunity to sink your claws into him.

"s-sorry, didn't see you there." he stutters slightly. heat pools in your stomach at the flush on his cheeks, the white ring around his knuckles spreading where he grips the neck of his beer bottle too tight.

grinning, you shrug. "it's okay, Joel. I'm sure it was an accident. you seem to be prone to them." you say sweetly, voice sounding almost simpering as you smile.

from the look he gives you, it's clear he can see right through your words. "were you grabbing a beer?" you ask, watching his jaw clench.

"no, I was-" but he stops himself at the teasing raise of your brows, shaking his head as he tries to save himself from your teasing. "sure. yeah."

but just like that, he's fallen into your trap, and you smile, “just watch where you’re standing this time, yeah?” you ask. and within a split second, you're bending over again right before him, falsely digging through ice to grab a bottle that you know he likes. you shift slightly, leaning your weight on one leg as to pop your hip slightly before straightening up and handing the bottle to him with a smirk.

when you whirl back around, his eyes are up towards the sky, jaw clenched tightly with strain as if silently praying to god; though you know Joel Miller has not once stepped foot into a church in his whole life. he clears his throat tersely, eyes meeting yours again as he grabs the bottle from you. "thanks," he mutters.

"you might want to finish that one first." you say with a grin, nodding towards his half-full beer bottle opened in his hands. he looks riled as he sends you a harsh look that only makes you smirk more, shrugging as you saunter off.

as much as you try, you can’t get the feeling of Joel pressed against you out of your mind.

and, with a shivering glance across the patio, you can tell he can’t either; while fully engrossed in a conversation with a woman close to his age, you lock eyes with Joel for a full five seconds before you break away. his gaze is heavy and intent - it follows you, watches you interact with people from the town and your friends from high school.

despite the scorching stares he sends you from across the yard, you keep your distance from Joel, too. you're engrossed catching up with a few friends from high school on the patio when your dad pulls you aside, asking you to help out bringing the food onto the patio.

bowls of chips, salads, roasted vegetables, condiments, and several different variations of sweets are brought out and spread across the folded tables outside. the smell of ribs and pulled pork from your father's smoker fills the air while you fill a tub full of water for the kids on the law to bob for apples in, watching from the serenity of your kitchen.

the breeze floats through the open window as you stare out, the scene calm as you let your thoughts linger. out near the yard, a woman leans down to pick up a discarded paper plate and the man beside her places his hand on her hip; a gentle squeeze that has your eyes glued to the motion. unable to help it, your mind wanders.

Joel's hands are large; they're rough with callouses from work and the skin gets cracked during the winter, but they're warm. you start to wonder if he's got a woman to touch like that - sure, you remember a few women who'd hung out around your dad and him when you were younger, once Sarah was old enough. but there'd never, to your knowledge, been a serious girlfriend.

you watch with desire as the man taps the woman's hip, fingers close to her ass, as she straightens, and it causes you to avert your eyes. your cheeks heat as you imagine the way it'd feel if you were out there - if the man's hand was Joel's, if he were to grab you in the middle of all these people, shove you down onto your knees-

you clear your throat, eyes snapping down to the sink where the water was overflowing from the bin with a gentle bubbling noise.

you groan to yourself in embarrassment. you need to get a fucking grip - no, you need to get laid.

the tub is filled a little too high; it's unsteady as you lift it up, hoisting it above your hips to hold against yourself as you turn around. but there's a figure behind you that makes you jump in shock, jolting the tub until it spills over yourself. you're hit with a shocking rush of cold as the water tips and drenches you; you let out a sharp yelp as one hand flies to your chest. "christ!" you snap, eyes landing on the perpetrator -

"Joel!" you snap, "you scared me."

"jesus," he mutters, moving towards you, grabbing the bin from you and placing it down on the counter, "I wasn't even close t'you, sweetheart. I was walkin' into the garage."

you swallow, taking a breath to calm your tight nerves. "I was zoned out, I guess-" you curse your bumbling hands, a light breeze catching over your wet skin and sending a shiver through you. just your luck.

you sigh, tilting your head, "what are you doing, slinking around here?" you raise a brow as you accuse him. he rolls his eyes, "ain't slinking anywhere. was goin' to find apples. your dad is adamant about those kids on the lawn. afraid they're gonna tear up his landscaping."

you sigh, shaking your head, "you made me spill." you pout dumbly, heart still pounding as you become increasingly aware of how wet your dress is- his eyes narrow, "'s not my fault you're always gettin' yourself into trouble." he mutters, shrugging as he looks down at your chest, the fabric slowly melding itself against your hot skin as the water spreads.

"says you." you retort, shaking your head. his eyes catch yours after you mutter it; a quick, intense glance that sends a strike of heat through you. a warning look.

but as always, he doesn't linger on your teasing, instead clearing his throat and moving on. it drives you mad as he hums. "at least it's water." he tries, "clean you right up." he hands you a dish towel, which you take with a quirked brow. desire burns between your legs.

"I already showered today," your voice is seductive, floating through the tense silence of the room as your eyes meet the side of his face. "as I'm sure you haven't forgot." you tease.

his hands freeze from where they were, wiping some of the water from the counter with a towel. he turns slowly to look at you, face dark. the air suddenly feels thick. "what's that supposed to mean?" his voice is low, brows drawn as he stares down at you - jaw clenched, chest heaving. his eyes dare you to say it, to let him take a bite.

you hum, "don't act coy now, Mr. Miller." you tease, watching his eyes darken with your words. "I see the way you watch me. don't act like you aren't thinking about me." you add boldly, heart hammering - if, somehow, you've made it all up in your delusional head, you're utterly fucked.

but his jaw ticks and his inhale is sharp, a flicker of his eyes down to your bra as it peeks through the wet material gives him away. it lights a flame within you that nothing else ever has.

"creeping around upstairs while I'm showering. you're trying to tell me you weren't about to slide in, take a peek?" you tilt your head to stare up at him through lidded eyes, kicking the teasing up the highest you've ever done.

you push onto your tip toes, your dripping chest mere inches from his as the barbeque continues feet away, outside. "you want to see it, don't you? feel me against you, like you did out there? I'm really warm." you mutter, drinking in his silence as he heaves his chest against yours. “and so tight.” you whisper, bold courage seeping through you as your eyes fall to the straining tent in his pants.

a rush of pride tickles you when he doesn't stop you, doesn't tell you off - so you continue, legs jelly with arousal. "I'm way too young for you, but you just can't stop yourself, can you?" you whisper into his ear, "you're so perverted, Joel."

you're throbbing with heat when you pull back slightly to drink in his red cheeks, his piercing stare that nearly kills you. his glare is molten, sharp as his gaze flickers from you then out to the party, returning with a burning malice. "go change. now." is all he says.

"are you distracted, Joel?" you tease, smirking up at him. “or just too scared?”

“shut up.” he orders, the malice behind it barely surviving his bark as his eyes dip quickly to your chest and back.

you smirk, “you can’t keep your eyes away from me. you’re a sick man, Joel.” you mutter, letting your hand drag down the neckline of your dress, exposing your breasts through your wet fabric. he nearly growls, rough hand flying to your bare arm, tugging you close to him. "take it off." he hisses.

you blink up at him, shivering from the hungry, dark eyes that seem to tear you apart inch by inch, as you breathe out a defiant, "you're not my dad."

he chuckles at that, an exhale leaving his lips. "you're damn right 'm not. and you're not a fuckin' child. go change."

you settle on a darker sundress this time, to avoid another wardrobe malfunction.

your heart hammers just as loud in your throat as it did minutes earlier in the kitchen as you stare out your bedroom window, searching for one figure in the crowd of guests. Joel's nowhere in sight, yet the kids are all huddled around a tub of water with bright red apples bobbing up and down.

with a sharp sigh, you gather your undergarments and dress to bring down to the washer, flicking off your light.

the laundry room smells fresh - a breath of clean air after the suffocating tenseness of the kitchen. the thought of Joel's face makes your cunt flutter slightly; that dark, angry stare - the rouge of his cheeks at your words. where doubt should creep in, nothing but pride fills your mind, knowing you can rile up the man just as easy as riding a bike.

you've just started the wash cycle, moving to stand up when the door slams shut, making you jump once again to be met with Joel's large frame.

you raise your brows, masking your shock and nerves with a grin, "back for more, creep? too late, I already put my panties in the wash-"

but he crowds into you so quick that your mouth snaps shut; your back hits the edge of the washer as you stare up at him, shocked. "'m tired of your shit," he sneers, eyes angry, "prancin' around, wearing next to nothin' and bendin' over for everyone to see." your stomach flutters.

he sneers his next words. "you really that clumsy, or are you just too shy to admit how bad your pussy's aching for your daddy's best friend?"

your jaw nearly drops from such bluntness coming from Joel's lips. you've rarely even heard him cuss - only during football games and the one time he burnt his hand on the grill after you'd leaned over and given him a perfect view down your shirt.

"Joel-" you start, a rush of arousal flooding the seat of your panties as you're pushed backwards. he leans into your space, dipping his head until he's in your ear. "who's the real creep, huh?" he mutters, warm breath scattering chills over your neck, "you’re sick, baby. goin' after men almost twice your age." he tuts, sliding his thick jeans between the soft skin of your thighs. “you got no idea what a man like me could do t’ya.” you gasp sharply, hands gripping his thick shoulders and he pushes you back further, your spine thrumming with the rumble of the washing machine.

“bet you think you can show me, don’t you?” you challenge, raising a brow.

"tired of your bullshit, sweetheart." he shakes his head, leaning back. "how am I gonna get you to shut up?" he asks mockingly. you swallow, canting your hips slightly as a prickle of desire rolls over you. "bet you'd love to turn this into a lesson, wouldn't you Joel?" you tease back, but he moves his leg up slightly, the rough material brushing against your heat. jolts of pleasure erupt from the spot and you let out a short mewl. his hand rises to grip your jaw, firm but gentle. his skin is hot and large against your cheeks.

"don't lie, sweetheart, you love it." he growls, "you love trippin' and spillin' shit just so I can come clean up your mess for you. 's that right? you just need my attention?" his thumb caresses over your cheek, jilting a brow as he stares down at you, "answer me."

you swallow dryly, nodding pathetically, "yes."

he tuts, condescending as he tilts his head. "where's all the teasing now, baby? you're always so talkative. did'ya realize I'm too much for you?" he taunts.

you shake your head, eyes wide, "no!" you eject, flames of heat licking your cheeks as he smirks. you try to go back on yourself, play down your eagerness, "-no, you're not too much, I promise."

he tilts his head the other way this time, eyes sharp. "so what is it, then? y'afraid of all the people out there? that your daddy's gonna come looking for ya and find us in here? see me touching you, like the pervert I am? because I'll leave right now 'f that's what you want."

you shiver as another rush of arousal floods you, twitching your hips at his words, the low drawl of his voice. you grasp him tight by his biceps, holding yourself against him as you meet his hot stare, unable to voice your desires. your blood pumps with need.

"oh." he hums, eyes narrowing as he pushes his thigh up against you roughly, eliciting a short moan from you. "or do you like that?"

you swallow, eyes lowering to where you drag your hips over his leg, pathetically desperate. he chuckles and it reverberates in his chest under your palms. "anyone could walk in here, sweetheart. your dad could be on the other side." he whispers into your ear, coaxing a moan from you - he tuts, "-an the washer's not loud enough if y'gonna moan like that."

you nod, staring into his eyes; they pierce you with their intensity. he's giving you an out, asking if this is what you really want, or if its just some juvenile grasp for attention. your mind has been made up since you found out Joel was coming today, though.

"I'll be quiet for you, Joel." you whisper, nodding, "I can handle it."

you can tell, he likes that; he presses to you fully, his hardening cock pressing against your side. you sharply inhale, the reality settling in as you drip with desire, aching for his touch. boldly, with a breath of fresh desire, you snake your hand down to palm him through his jeans - he's thick, straining against his jeans as his grip on your jaw tightens.

"how long have you been this hard, Joel?" you tease, confidence sudden as you smirk, "bet you've been thinking of me since you tried to sneak into the shower earlier for a peep show."

his hand slides down to grasp your throat as your sentence tapers out: a squeeze causes a rush of pleasure through you. "quit it with the fuckin' lyin'. you're already desperate enough." his breath is hot on your face. with a grin, you accentuate a squeeze on his bulge, coaxing a short grunt from him. "says you, old man?"

this pushes him to the edge.

rough hands leave your hip and throat to flip your body over, pushing you until you're bent over the washing machine, its vibrations tremoring your whole body. "eager, are you?" you tease, gasping when one hand presses you from the base of your neck.

his voice is sharp in response, "tired of you, sweetheart. gonna fuck all the teasin' right out of you."

your cunt flutters at his words, wiggling your hips until you press against his crotch, feeling the hard thickness of his clothed cock over your panties. "-and you'll probably love every second of it too.” you mutter against the cold white surface of the washer.

a harsh swat on your ass makes you yelp slightly, the pleasure smearing arousal between your thighs, legs shaky with anticipation. you swallow heavily when your dress is shoved up over your hips, exposing your skimpy panties to Joel as his large hands splay over the flesh of your ass.

his hands grip and squeeze your skin, teasing you, as slowly his fingers graze over the seat of your underwear, toying with the ruined, soaked fabric. "you're dripping," he taunts you, the stark words causing your eyes to widen, a short whimper leaving your lips. "eager, are you?" he parrots your words.

you let out a shuddered moan, swallowing as a finger falls to rub feather-light circles over your throbbing, clothed clit. the sensation has you bucking back against his touch, but his own grip on you prevents your movement; a harsh grip on your neck, forcing you down against the vibrations of the machine.

"tell me what you want." Joel mutters, voice commanding. you resist the urge once again to roll your eyes as you grit your teeth; your own medicine tastes bitter as he feeds you spoonfuls. "come on, you've always loved to talk." he sneers, his voice taunting, as if recalling all the times you've teased him, secretly aching for him. "you had such good manners in front of your daddy earlier, didn't you? so where's that pretty please? say pretty please, Joel, please fuck me on my daddy’s washing machine." he adds, thumb pressing down slightly harder on your clit. a strangled noise escaped your throat, your eyes wrenching shut. “say you want me to use you.”

"fuck- pretty please- J-Joel, please use me-“ you whimper, giving up as he hums at your words. a squeeze on your throat.

“y’gonna knock it off with the desperate teasing?” he asks sharply, holding you towards his mouth. you swallow, trying to hide your grin at the wall and hoping Joel can’t see it.

“yes, Joel, just please, please fuck me.” you submit to his request, throbbing with desire.

you feel his chest as he leans over you, breath against your spine. "begging your dad's best friend to fuck you? you’re so dirty, baby. you should be ashamed." he tuts, kissing your spine in a feather-light touch as his other hand slides your panties to the side, your arousal already dripping down your legs.

your cheeks flush as you nod wordlessly, wiggling your hips slightly, cunt aching for him.

he doesn't make you wait any longer; his cock is thick and heavy as he pulls himself out of his jeans, running his shaft through your molten heat.

your gasp is strangled as his tip nudges your clit, a groan from his lips rumbling and low as you hold your breath in anticipation. he rocks his hips again and your legs soon tense up, cold against the washer as your hands grip the sides, "hurry, please." your voice is breathless and cracked as you ask it, exhausted and driven wild from his teasing. "need it so bad.“ you whimper breathlessly.

he has the audacity to chuckle lightly, his thickness spreading your juices and notching just at your entrance before sliding past in tease. your nails scrape the metal as your eyes clench shut - he's so big; a flood of nerves rolls over you.

"i know you do, sweetheart.” he mutters; you almost consider slapping him, but then you're sharply inhaling at the sudden sensation of his spit, dripping down onto your pulsing, aching heat. you can't help the moan at the feeling; there's a moment where Joel's hand caresses your cheek gently and you can't help but lean into his warm skin, keening at the touch, until it slides over your mouth and you realize he's muffling you.

and then he pushes forwards, breaching your tight, hot cunt.

and you’re gasping. simultaneously, you suck in breaths at the sensation, his own groan so low it may be a growl.

your brows pinch together at the tight fit; he's so big and you're tight with desire as he slowly inches himself inside, relishing in the agonizing pleasure of him nearly splitting you open. "Joel," you whimper, voice completely muffled by his tight hold on your mouth.

he whispers hot against the shell of your ear, "you better be quiet."

his voice sends a flood of arousal through you, coaxing his cock further into you, enveloping him into your warmth as his cock presses against the spongy part of you that has your back arching in a gasp. and then he's dragging himself slowly out of you, thrusting back in deep and slow.

he lets out a shuttering breath into your collarbone as your nails dig into metal. you squirm at how deep he is; sweat lines your brow as your body is forced against the machine, barely able to accommodate his size. you let out a breathless, broken whine into his palm at the feeling, his length nearly splitting you, the sounds of your arousal slicking him and coating you both as he starts to thrust with a deep pace.

he holds you hard against the machine, ensuring you can't buck your hips, the other hand sliding to your neck, keeping just where he wants you at the angle that has both your eyes nearly rolling back.

he growls as he starts to fuck into you hard and rough, the washer shaking with his thrusts. "take me, that's right." he grunts - the sentence sends your toes curling in pleasure. "fuck-" he grunts, "dirty slut, letting me fuck you right here- practically begging me all night-"

the vibrations from the washing machine send tremors of pleasure through you and with wide eyes, you can feel your orgasm growing quickly. you can't help the gasps as Joel hits the spot in you that has tears brimming at the edge of your vision.

"you close already, sweetheart?" he taunts, hand grabbing both your wrists to pin them against your back. you can't move as he pumps into you, the machine hitting the wall as the fire writhes in your abdomen.

you nod, tears almost spilling in pleasure. the vibrations are bringing you so close to the edge as he hits the spongy spot inside you that nearly makes you scream; he chuckles darkly. "you need a little more, baby?"

you nod, wailing gently against him as you try to move against him, toes leaving the ground as he fucks you into the machine. "you wanna cum, hm?"

you nod furiously, yelping, "yes!" through his muffling.

you feel a familiar warm feeling in your abdomen after a several deep thrusts and you moan out as he lifts your leg slightly up, hitting a new angle that nearly sends you over the edge. "fuck." he hisses.

his hands grip your wrists tight, "you know how t'touch your clit, don't you, baby?" he asks. you nod, looking towards the wall as you can't crane your neck further to see him. he doesn't let up on his thrusts, even as you glare at the wall, nodding with a whimper.

"why don't you touch yourself, then?" he asks, teasing with a dark lilt in his voice that sends thrills through your body. you flutter and clench at his condescending tone, his hand pinning your wrists back as you struggle to move your hand to where you most need it.

"c'mon, sweetheart, try harder. work for it."

a tear falls onto the washing machine as he thrusts deep, hard. he hums low, leaning over and hitting a new angle, lips against your neck. "you gonna stop slutting yourself out? an’ stop callin' me a pervert when you throw yourself at me?" he asks, taunting. you groan, nodding enough that your neck hurts as you keen your back towards him, on a desperate edge of something brilliant.

he hums, "'kay, baby. touch yourself. want you to cum on my cock."

your hands are released and frantically your fingers find your sensitive clit, yelping as he presses his hand harder to your mouth. the feeling is blinding.

your cunt flutters as you hit your high not two thrusts later, your whole body tense. you let out a long, loud whine of his name as you nearly short circuit.

“f-fucking tight-" he grunts, his own thrusts sloppy as he chases his own orgasm, already moving on from yours as you go limp with pleasure in his grasp.

overstimulation sends your legs quivering as he grips you tighter, fucking into your throbbing heat. your cunt, still sensitive and contracting, drives Joel crazy - though you tense as you hear a familiar voice calling out Joel's name from the patio.

your eyes widen, but Joel doesn't stop - not when your dad yells his name louder, as if he's entered the kitchen.

and, to your horror, your dad calls out for Joel, asking if he's seen you.

you don’t miss the coincidence of your dad yelling into the house in search of you while his best friend cums inside you. a groan quiet in your ear as Joel suddenly stills deep inside you, hot spurts of his cum pumping into you, both your breaths heavy. he rocks into you, shaking breath as your father once again calls for him.

when Joel pulls out of you, he caresses your spine, releasing your mouth. you suck in a breath, shuttering when his thumb slides over your ruined cunt, thumbing his cum back inside you gently, lowly groaning.

you don't say anything, too shocked to speak as he pulls your panties back over you, dragging your dress over your ass.

releasing you from his grip, he hums into your ear, "now you’ll quit your fuckin' teasing, you hear me?"

and then, within seconds, you hear him returning outside, calling back your dad's name while you try to stand upright on shaky legs.

shit.

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#joel miller smut #joel smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #the last of us (tv)#the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #pre-outbreak!joel miller #joel the last of us

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razrbladekiss · 2 days ago

Text

CRAVE | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: there’s only one thing that joel craves, and it isn’t the mental fucking torture of an overly stubborn twenty-something teasing him ‘til he’s blue in the face. and balls.

PAIRING: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. legal unspecified age gap.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. alcohol consumption. pervy old man joel. reader’s dad (i’ve named him sorrrry) is there before joel gets pervy. some religious themes and also descriptions of religion in a negative light (this is MY experience with christianity, if you do not agree then please don’t read), no explicit smut but descriptions of what joel wants to do to youuuu so: mentions of piv, cock-riding, oral f!receiving, choking if you squint, dirty talk asf, joel being cocky which leads to his cock being sad and alone. reader is cunty. not proof-read ‘cus, once again, i’m a lazy bitch and i don’t have time for that. enjoy. 🫶🏻

An end to craving is an end to suffering.

Today’s last stream of sunlight fulgurates through the branches of your father’s prized Texas Ash, hitting perfectly the dime-sized crucifix situated comfortably between two pert tits sheathed in sheer black cotton.

Joel tries not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s been watching you all fucking night. Every time you get up, he’s been glued to your ass. Whenever you lean over, Joel can’t seem to pry his eyes away from your cleavage. The more he’s been drinking, the more brazen he’s been with his stolen glances.

When your father rambles about some work-related spiel—and you’re sitting so innocently across the way—he can’t help affixing his eyes to the swell of your breasts. Wondering what it’d be like to touch, and grope, and suck on them.

Your mother was right about him. For all of the years that she knew Joel while your parents were together, she’d always say that he was trouble. A good-for-nothing, splenetic, perverted old-man who was but a bad influence. And you never noticed, never cared. You always thought that he was a great friend, and a stand-up guy.

Until today. Until you saw him scrutinizing your form—in front of your dad—you had a lot more respect for Joel. But now you realize that your mother was right. He is a perv. But—fuck—do you love that.

You’re not sure what you enjoy more—disrespecting your insane Catholic mother, or knowing that Joel is undressing you with his eyes—but you can’t help yourself feeding into his fantasy.

“Daddy?” Your father hums, not entirely bothered by the fact that you’ve just interrupted his conversation. He smiles. “Do you want another beer?”

“Please, hon.” He hands you his empty bottle, mumbling something about how he was going to get himself one and that you don’t need to. But you insist.

The blanket over your thighs is being discarded, hiking your dress up with it. Joel gets a glimpse of your lace panties that he likes to imagine you wore just for him, and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Bare, supple skin is on display as you get up from the deck chair. You turn to him with a prurient twinkle in your eye, and ask if he wants a drink too. “Yeah, another won’t hurt. I’m already pretty—“ he hiccups, “pretty far gone, anyway.”

Dad laughs while you saunter to the cooler and make a big show of bending over, completely unaware of the way Joel is trying to conjure up a plan to get you alone tonight. But then…

“Same ‘ere, bud.” He laughs before he’s nodding toward Joel. “Stay the night, if ‘ya wanna. I mean, you’re in no fit state to drive—none of us are—and I got a spare bedroom.”

His nose scrunches up, as if to decline, before you’re turning around with two unopened beers and a small bottle of wine. Your hand wraps around the neck almost romantically, leaving very little to his imagination.

“Yeah, you might as well stay, Miller.” You put down the beers on the table, still holding firmly the Merlot. “I’m stayin’. I got nowhere to be in the mornin’, and dad bought breakfast stuff.”

Two brown eyes are latched to each of yours, and you feel beads of perspiration roll through the valley of your breasts. Despite the evening cooling down, you’re stifling beneath his unyielding gaze.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” Joel concedes. He takes his can and cracks it open, lifting it up to cheers your father. “S’long as you’re makin’ me breakfast, Gary.”

Dad salutes and you smile, sinking into the purple cushion with a satisfied hum. You ogle Joel, biting fiercely the skin of your bottom lip. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel swigs his beer—letting your dad drunkenly ramble—and doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Wondering how he’s going to make you pay for torturing him like this.

But this hadn’t been your intention when Joel showed up to watch the Cowboys v Browns game this afternoon. In fact, him staying past nine o’clock was completely unintentional and if it weren’t for your dad pumping him full of Coors and Old Milwaukee, he’d be fast asleep at this very moment.

He supposes that he doesn’t mind, being here. Especially because he’s buzzed—still able to speak and think coherently, which is surprising—and gets to spend some rare time with you. Even if it is with your dad.

You watch them converse—the way that friends do—admiring how patient Joel is with him despite him being a little bit too inebriated for his own good. He’s the kind of friend that your old man needs; understanding, forbearing. And it baffles you that they’ve not known one another for longer than seven years, but surmise that they’d definitely be best friends in every other timeline because they just work so well.

But it’s the thought of them being friends—brothers—that urges feelings of unease. Trepidation. Gary’ll have a cow if he finds out the way that his so called buddy has been making googly eyes at his little girl’s titties for the last eight hours.

Joel senses the shift in attitude—you’re not teasing him now—and turns the topic of conversation to you. Dad doesn’t mind, though. Never minds talking to—or about—his kid.

“What made you stay in with us oldies tonight, huh?”

Wine is being swiveled around the glass before you take it back in one swig. A grimace flits over your features, but they both catch it.

“Didn’t feel like hittin’ the bars.” Candidly, you say. It’s refreshing. “Can’t be dealin’ with pervy old men tryna touch me.”

Less refreshing.

Joel’s blood runs cold, and you smirk. He swallows thickly the liquid acrimony bubbling from the chasms of his throat. He wants to screw that stupid grin off of your face—stuff his cock straight between those plush lips and throat fuck you ‘til you’re crying and gasping for air.

He just nods instead of saying anything.

“I’ll kill anyone that touches you.” Dad says, not sensing Joel’s sudden frigid state. “Seriously. ‘Specially if it’s an old fuckin’ degenerate asshole—“

“Alright, Gary.” You halt the hate train, pouring the last few dregs of wine into your glass. “No need to get all protective. No old coot is comin’ anywhere near me.”

You look directly at Joel when you say; “old men can’t do what guys my age can, anyway.”

Dad grimaces. Joel scoffs. You can’t help smiling, feeling very proud of yourself.

“Y’know, you’re still my kid? And hearing this shit is nasty.” Your father tells you around a burp, and realizes that this might be the time to call it a night.

He’s never been able to handle his alcohol, especially after being married to your psychotic beer-loathing, hymn-signing, prayer-group-leading, holier-than-though moronic fucking mother.

He lets himself get too drunk too fast, now. Ever since she went back to Kansas—which was totally code for I fucked the priest and got extradited from the church—he’s really let his hair down, and you’d be lying if you said this version of your old man wasn’t the very best. Because he’s living his life the way that he wants to, now.

It’s nice.

“It might be nasty, but ‘least you don’t have to worry about me bringing home a man your age. Or even worse; older.”

Gary gets to his feet—knees clicking and cracking as he does so—and nods. “‘Spose that’s true, kid.”

Joel. Is. So. Fucking. Pissed.

As you say your goodnights—and put on a few lights so that your dad doesn’t trip over his own feet—Joel is mentally counting down the minutes until he gets you alone on this damn patio. He’s determined to make you regret the few little comments that you’ve made tonight.

“Don’t stay up too late. Y’know how cranky ‘ya get with no sleep.” Dad reminds you. “You too, Miller.”

You hum your response, lifting your empty glass and indicating that you’ll be retiring to your room soon, too.

“Night dad.”

“Night, pumpkin.” He turns to Joel. “Make sure she ain’t up too late.”

He nods and shifts his gaze to you, eyes darkening. “Yessir. I’ll put her to sleep.”

Your father grunts and slides the patio door to close. Leaving his daughter and best friend alone together might be the biggest mistake that he’s ever going to make.

Joel watches him intently behind the glass door, heeding him stumble across the tile. He might be about to rearrange your guts, but he at least wants to be courteous.

Your legs squeeze together, for the only sound you hear is the reverberation of Joel’s I’ll put her to sleep in that sexy, beer-slick tone.

He sees it.

“She makin’ ‘ya squirm?”

You blink at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your pussy.” Joel—as candid as ever—elaborates. “Is she flutterin’ ‘cus ‘a me?”

The fallout of a chemical bomb would be much more appealing than having to look Joel in the eye after such a lewd statement.

“Don’t worry if so. I have that effect on the ladies.”

“Makin’ yourself sound like a slut, Miller.” Coolly, you respond. Your hand is reaching for a can of beer, twining fingertips around the base while another pulls the tab.

Two eyes screw shut when a spritz of alcohol is flushing over your face, neck and chest. Droplets of Bud trickle between those perfect tits that Joel’s eyes have almost burned fucking holes into; forcing even the horniest man on planet earth to render himself utterly speechless.

You trail a finger through the valley of your breasts, collecting the sticky liquid before you’re putting it straight into your mouth; sucking it clean. Your eyes are locked on Joel’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. The sight before him is truly one to behold; his friend’s sweet daughter with her fingers between her tits out in the patio. Nobody’d ever believe him if he told them this. Joel probably wouldn’t even fucking believe himself.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ’ya?” Is what he says in response. He’s quick witted, you’ll give him that. “My tongue stuck in your pretty little pussy—“

Heat flashes over you.

“You’re fucking vile.”

“Ain’t that the way it’s meant’a be?” He lurches forward, and your eyes travel to the small opening of his shirt’s midsection that highlights perfectly the fact that he hasn’t a base layer beneath the flannel.

You see a small patch of hair; brown, and gray and seems a little fuzzy. It’s a sudden reminder that this man is a smidge too old for you. But you can’t find it in yourself to care very much.

“Don’t think so.” Trying to out-douche him, you respond. Joel’s thick fingers are twined together, hands resting over the peaks of his knees. “Think youre meant’a have some kinda respect for me. Y’know, as my dad’s buddy, ‘n all.”

Joel snorts a laugh.

“I’d have respect for ‘ya, but the way that peachy fuckin’ ass was in the air when ‘ya bent over the cooler tells me that daddy’s ’lil girl is more of a slut than me.”

Your jaw rolls. Reaction: gauged.

He inches nearer to you; slimy grin plastered across rough, rugged features. “Only pullin’ your leg, hon. I know you’re no slut. Too much of a prissy bitch—“

“Oh, really?” Irked, you spit.

Joel nods. Pushing at your buttons has never been much of a difficult feat. It’s something that he quite enjoys, actually.

“Mhm, yeah.” The man is leaning backwards in his chair, now. Arms folded behind his head; hands pressed against his dark curls. “Gonna have to prove that you ain’t like your mama.”

Your blood boils. And then it runs cold.

“Don’t gotta prove shit to you.” You defend. Very defensively.

“No, that’s right. Don’t gotta do nothin’, kiddo.”

You see the outline of his dick as it stiffens within the confines of his dark, navy-denim jeans. He’s actually getting off on this.

“Unless you want to—“

“Nah, I’m good.” You’re leaning back, now, lifting your legs to sit criss cross applesauce. The barely-covering-your-crotch sheer fabric of your thong catches his eye; a glint of something wicked flickers through them as he clears his throat.

If you’re playing the long game, then so is he. He can out-stubborn anybody.

“So I’ve heard.” He jabs, insinuating that you’re a prude. Again. “Can prove ‘em all wrong, if ‘ya wanna.”

It’s killing him, this. It’s torture. But he’s strong. Ish.

You shake your head, reaching for your almost-empty can of beer. You’re taking another long pull, making a dramatic show of tilting your head back and puffing out your chest as you do so. His lips purse.

“I’m good.” You tell him again with a syrupy smile. “Rather we just talk. Y’know—be civilized, ‘n all.”

His arms are moving to the sides of his deck chair, now. Joel’s tongue runs along his bottom lip. He gives a quick bob of his head.

“Yeah, we can talk.” His eyes zone in on your pussy; the engorged wet patch situated on the part of fabric that kind-of clothes your cunt. His mouth waters. “But what’ll we talk about, baby girl?”

Another surge of pleasure oozes out from between your thighs, turning what was once a purple thong into a jet-black one. Joel doesn’t mind, though. The sight is sweet; it’s prurient, in some sick way.

“Hm.” You pretend to think, all the while spreading your legs a little bit more. He sees perfectly the outline of your folds as fabric hugs and highlights the inner workings of your beautiful anatomy. “Why don’t we start with what you’re thinkin’ about, Mr. Miller?”

A weakness of his, that is. You referring to him as Mr. Miller has always gotten him hot. It’s innocent, almost. It’s like that’d been engrained into your brain by the god-fearing fruit-loop that brought you up, and you can’t quit saying it in these situations.

“Oh, doll. Not sure you’ll wanna hear what I’m thinkin’ of.” His tone is rough, now. Like 180 grit sandpaper against the wooden walls inside of your fucking brain. You hum.

Mentally, Joel’s cock is spearing open the tight hole between your legs; making you scream his name. He’s thrusting his prick up into your cervix while you ride him like he’s the last cowboy on earth, desperate to feel a kind of pleasure that no man your age could ever bestow upon you.

In his head, he’s picturing your crucifix dangling in his face while you’re pleasuring yourself on his length; glistening with sweat, and cum, and Sierra Nevada. Howling at his girth, speechless at the size of him.

He wants nothing more than to wrap a hand around the base of your throat and fuck you into next week; feeling damp walls contract and seize around his cock—

“No.” You snap him back to reality; halting his train of thought. “No, you can tell me. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Oh, I’m fuckin’ sure she can.

“Fine.” He clears his throat. “Just thinkin’ of stufin’ that warm ‘lil cunt with my big ‘ol cock, ‘s’all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Your tone is teasing.

Joel does not like to be teased.

“If you’d shut your fuckin’ mouth, I’d be able to finish.”

In a moment of pure, unapologetic submission, you nod. The skin of your bottom lip is getting fucking gnawed at by your teeth in an attempt to conceal a moan.

It works. Kind of.

“What was I sayin’…” He strives to recall his last few words; and then he remembers. “Oh, yeah. Stretchin’ out that cute pussy ‘a yours.”

That cute pussy ‘a yours, is twitching. Fuck that, it’s pulsating.

“And you’re so sure of that? You being able to stretch me out, I mean.”

“Dead sure, angel face.” He quips. “I know for a damn fact that you’d be havin’ trouble takin’ my fat cock all in one go; be cryin’ for everyone to hear.”

Through long, thick lashes, you stare at him.

“You’d be seein’ stars; and not just the ones above us right now.”

You look up to the sky and hope to alleviate some of the mental pain being bestowed upon you right now. Which is entirely your own doing, of course.

Joel shifts in his seat so that he’s a little bit more sunken, able to heed clearly the sickly sweetness blanketing the chair you’re on.

“I’ll eat your pussy, too.”

Your attention is snapped back down to Joel, now. Your brows raise.

“Suck your soul right out from between your legs.”

“Oh, Joel.” You moan, a little. He lets his eyes shut for a brief moment, only to open them again to find you taking off your panties.

It’s like Christmas fucking day, this.

“I’d love for you to take me right here; fill me up on one ‘a the sunloungers.” You’re getting off your chair, and Joel’s heart is starting to pound within the chasms of his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

You’re walking toward him; thong in hand. Fingers wreathed through soaked purple cotton.

“Can’t think of anything that’ll bring me more pleasure than you fuckin’ me ‘til I’m crying. Or gasping for air.”

“You ‘n me both, beautiful.”

You smile. You give Joel your underwear, before you’re running your fingers through his hair and he’s letting a hand glide up the meat of your thigh and beneath your skirt.

“Just a shame, ain’t it.”

“What’s a shame, sugar?”

The feeling of his fingertips—calloused and covered in rough skin—is almost orgasmic. But you’re stronger than what he is. So you pull yourself away from his hold, and begin to feel an unwavering sense of need. You shirk it, though.

You’re leaning into him now, breasts pressed against his shoulder, lips touching the shell of his ear. Goosebumps prickle over his neck and you assume that they’re making their way down south, too.

“Huh?” He says to get your attention, for you still haven’t answered. “What’s a shame?”

Fingertips trace over broad shoulders enveloped in soft, warm flannel. You’re leaning closer; hot breath on his skin. Your lips part to whisper:

“If daddy ever found out about this, he’d kill ‘ya.”

“Baby—“

You’re taking the panties from his hand, and tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Fighting a blush—feeling very proud of yourself—your face remains straight.

You tap at his chest and walk away, but not before throwing a “night, Miller” over your shoulder.

Joel looks down at the ground, presently wallowing in some sort of self-pity. But then remembers the visible effect that his words had—and the way he looked at—you, and he can’t fight the stupid fucking grin pushing its way onto his face.

He might’ve just experienced blue-balls at his big age, but to see you submit to his gaze was absolutely worth it.

He just hopes you’ll never tell a soul about his dirty-talk. He has a reputation to uphold, these days.

380 notes · View notes

fake-bleach · 2 years ago

Text

feels so right | dbf!joel miller x reader

summary: Your college boyfriend's a dick, and it doesn't help that he dragged you along with him to a bar just to treat you like shit. You plan on catching a ride home after an incident between you two, but turns out that your dad's best friend's there too, and he saw everything. He ends up offering you a ride instead, but there's no promises that you make it back home for the night.

word count: 9.9k (yeah i went overboard oops..)

warnings/disclaimers: (18+ only!) fem!afab!reader (no use of y/n), this might be the filthiest smut i've ever written, porn w/ plot, reader has a horrible/mean bf, prolly unrealistic car sex but idc, joel can carry reader, thigh riding, praise/degrading, kinda mean joel, oral (m receiving), deepthroating/facefucking, use of pet names (honey, sweetheart, baby, girl, etc), piv, unprotected rough sex, bit of a size kink, joel's hugeee, spanking, bit of choking, creampie/coming inside, literally all that good filthy shit lolll, lil cheesy ass ending

btw this can be for both game/hbo!joel cus i had them both in mind while writing <3

ao3 link | masterlist

Music fills your ears as you take a sip of your drink, sitting on an uncomfortable stool by the bar you were at.

Your boyfriend dragged you here with him, but not out of the kindness of his heart, no. You had made plans with him to spend some time together; to stay in and watch a movie, in hopes that it'd somehow heal your declining relationship, and he thankfully agreed.

That was weeks ago now, and here you were; stuck at a bar with the rest of his friends all because he forgot about his plans with you and insisted that he'd spend the night with the ones he sees more often than you.

It was either you or them, and in his eyes, it was always them.

"Fuck, babe! If you wanna be with me so fucking bad, just come with me— since you won't get off my fucking ass if you don't. Jesus Christ, I mean, you'd think I'd be able to spend one fucking night with my friends.. So fucking clingy."

His words rung in your ears as your eyes got lost in the remaining alcohol in the glass in your hand, slowly swirling it around with dread filling your face and entire being. You knew your boyfriend wasn't the best guy in the world, but you loved him at one point, and your heart clung onto the hope that he would start to actually love you back.

You should've known that your hopes would never be enough.

Snapping yourself out of it, you lift your head up to turn and look at him, his fourth glass of whiskey nearly empty, not giving a single fuck about you. No, his focus was always on his friends.. always on the shit that he prioritized over you.

You could only take so much.

Lifting yourself up from the stool, your feet reach the ground as you make your way over to him, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. Nothing. Again, you tap him even harder, and he finally notices you for the first time in the 30 minutes you've been there.

"What the fuck? What do you want now?" He asks you, scoffing as he whips his head to turn to you.

You gasp at him, mouth open as you stare at him in disbelief. "What the fuck do I want? I want you to fucking pay attention to me, you asshole! Have you even thought about me the entire time we've been here at all?!" You exclaim harshly, your heart racing as your anger rises.

He just shakes his head at you, the annoyance in his face incredibly evident as his friends laugh faintly at the scene in front of them. He doesn't even attempt to apologize to you, the tone in his voice cruel as he scolds you, "I never even fucking wanted you here in the first place, and you didn't get the damn hint. Not my fucking fault, babe."

He turns his body to look back at his friends, completely avoiding you and the situation, and clearly not giving a shit to fix it. Your anger gets the best of you, reaching for his shoulder to harshly pull it back so he could just look at you, but he grabs your wrist, squeezing it tightly as he drags your body to him.

Your face is just inches away from his now, gasps coming out of your mouth as his grip tightens. "Don't you ever fucking touch me like that again.. Get the fuck out of here, bitch." He berates you, his breath oozing of booze as he shoves your wrist to push you away from him.

Your eyes fill with tears as you back away from him, your hand reaching to your wrist to soothe it, rubbing it softly. You glance around the room, embarrassed at what had just occurred. Eyes from all around the bar are on the two of you now, but there's a pair that immediately catch your eye.

Joel.

Your dad's best friend, and the man who practically watched you grow up right in front of his eyes.

His gaze is hard on you, face filled with growing anger as he watches what your dickhead of a boyfriend just did to you. Your face grows cold as you stare at him, eyes flickering from his face to the floor as you grip your bag, not wanting to have him confront you. You were embarrassed enough.

You glance back at your boyfriend one last time, a slight frown fixed on your lips as you rush out the door, gasping for air while your teary eyes pace around your surroundings. Frantically pulling your phone out of your bag, you open the Uber app, wanting to get a ride home and out of here as soon as you could.

"Honey? You alright?"

Your body jumps slightly as you turn your head to stare at the source of the voice, eyes fixed to recognize Joel, his face filled with concern and his gaze now soft on you. You swallow as you breathe out, wiping the tears that were just about to fall from your eyes.

Gaining the courage to speak, you choke out faintly, not wanting to reveal your emotions to him. "J-Joel, I— Yeah, I'm okay.. it's okay. Sorry you had to see that, I.. didn't know you came here.."

You turn your head to stare back down at your phone, weak fingers trying their best to tap on the buttons to get you a driver here as soon as possible.

Joel's hand just reaches over the ones gripping onto your phone, slowly pushing them down and away from your focus to make you look up at him. His eyes are gentle and warm, boring into yours.

"Don't do that, sweetheart.. I've known y'long enough to know that it isn't," His soft words soothe you, looking down at your somber face, "C'mon.. Why don't y'let me take you home? Let's get you outta here.." He offers, moving his hand behind the small of your back to guide you wherever his truck was parked.

You sniffle and nod as you give into his generosity, knowing that you just wanted and needed to be cared for right now, whether or not it was just by Joel's benevolence.

His stare is fixed on you as the two of you make your way to his truck, feeling a sense of responsibility and urge to protect you. You were the loveliest girl he's ever known in his entire life, and it appalled him at how you could be with an asshole like that.

Walking up to the passenger side with you right behind him, he opens the door up for you, gesturing you to get in. "C'mon, honey.. There y'go.." He whispers out, gently shutting it behind you once you're securely inside.

Joel gets in the driver's seat now, putting his seatbelt on after you as he turns the engine on, putting the car in reverse to get out of there, knowing that you probably wanted to leave the area as fast as possible.

Silence fills the space between you as the only sound that can be heard are the tires on the road, making you gulp softly. You then glance at him, clearing your throat and licking your drying lips, "I.. I promise, he's not always like that, Joel.. He's a nice man.. I—"

Your voice fails you as you finish, the uncertainty in your tone not even convincing yourself. You're lying straight through your teeth, and Joel knows it too.

He lets out a heavy scoff, shaking his head as his eyes focus on the road in front of him. Glancing at you, he chuckles, "Right.. A 'nice man', huh?" He starts, making you turn away from him to look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers, "A 'nice man' wouldn't do that to you, honey.. Seems to me you've never felt how a real man should treat ya."

Your head turns to look at him quickly, scoffing back at him as you look at him, shocked. You don't even know why you're bothering to defend your shitty boyfriend, but for some reason, you wanted to prove to Joel that you were mature enough to make the right decisions.. to be with the right man.

"You don't even know him, Joel.. I.. I was being clingy, alright? He wanted to hang out with his friends instead of me tonight and I insisted I went too! You.. you'd act like that too if you were ever with me.." You tell him, your voice growing small towards the last part of your little speech, self-deprecation filling your mind along with your boyfriend's words.

It doesn't seem to make Joel any happier, making him suddenly pull over to the side of the road, putting the car in park. He huffs, removing his seatbelt as you follow his movements. Pausing to take a moment to try and compose himself, he finally looks at you, mouth open in disbelief. "You think I'd act like that if I were in his position? Think I'd fuckin' push you away like that? No, honey, god, no— you've got it all wrong."

You swallow as you stare at him, eyes confused and trying to understand what he was implying. He turns away from you for a moment, licking his lips as he breathes in sharply. "No fuckin' man right in the head would ever push you away like that, sweetheart.. No, he's a fuckin' boy who won't even cherish such a.. pretty girl like you."

Joel shakes his head, taking that pause between his words to look at you up and down, exhaling hard as he puts his fist to his face, his arm resting on the side of his window. He just stares back out through the windshield, your body stuck in place, breath hitching as you process it all.

"The hell would your dad think.. f'he ever saw that, huh? Boy's damn lucky I didn't do shit to him.. Lucky I didn't fuck m'up." He exclaims, scoffing softly as he looks at you for a moment.

Your chest rises as you breathe in softly, mind racing to figure out what to say. Your stomach is filled with faint butterflies from Joel's words, yet you knew that he'd never possibly think of you that way. He was just trying to comfort you.. right?

Your eyes are set on your lap, pausing before stuttering out, "Look, Joel.. I get it, you've known me my whole life, but I know what I'm doing. I'm not some dumb little girl anymore.." You finish, lifting your head to look at him, hoping that he'd finally believe you.

Joel's always treated you the same way he has when you were a kid, and it always frustrated the hell out of you. It's no doubt that Joel was an attractive man; you realized that when you were in high school, especially when your friends would come to your house to gawk at him at parties and family gatherings. You weren't blind, but you knew your attraction for him would get you nowhere.. not when he saw you the same way all these years.

At least, to you.

His head finally turns to you, eyes set on yours now, "You're a big girl now, huh.. s'that right? Y'gonna tell me that when you're with an asshole like that?" He chuckles out, cocking his head as he shakes it, "Thought you were better than that, baby.. That you'd actually give yourself to someone who deserves you.."

"Guess you're still that dumb little girl."

His words sting, making your eyes harden with your lips pressed tightly together. You scoff at him, tone harsh and direct, "The fuck do you want from me, Joel? What, y'want me to give myself to a real man like you?" spewing out the words without even giving it a second thought.

He immediately spits out what he's been thinking the entire time, nodding his head almost condescendingly as he inches his face closer to yours, "Yeah, that's what I fuckin' want. Maybe it'll knock some damn sense into that dumb head of yours, huh?”

You grit your teeth, heart thumping out of your chest as you rasp out, "You wouldn't even have the fucking guts, old man," but you knew damn well that you craved it. Craved him and the endless possibilities of what he could do to you. Breathing heavily, you can't deny the slick growing against your folds and through your panties.

Joel just grins at you, his gaze never leaving yours, "S'that right, honey? M' just some.. old man to you?" He snickers, his tongue poking out of his cheek for a moment, "Y'think I never noticed you all these years? Never heard you and your lil' friends talkin' about me?"

You gulp as your lick your drying lips, face softening while your heart races. Shaking your head to deny his accusations, your body freezes at the realization that he knows.

"Yeah.. you're not so slick, baby. Could see you watchin' me all these damn years.. Tellin' everyone how much you want me.. Y'can deny it all you want, sweetheart, but I see right through you. Right through this act."

He smirks as your eyes dart to the floor to avoid his stare, head tilting down as you fidget with your hands. Your body grows cold as you shake your head softly, denying the fact of the matter.

Joel's hand reaches up towards your face, his thumb and index finger lifting your head to look up at him, gripping onto your chin. "Ain't that right?" He chuckles out, making you turn your head to look away from him again nervously, but he doesn't let that slide.

He tuts his tongue, shaking his head as his grasp on your chin tightens just enough to have a firm grip on you, forcing you to look right at him. "No, no, don't do that, honey.. Look at me." He demands, your eyes finally staring into his own. You clear your throat, body shaking slightly as your adamant arousal for him increases.

You begin to stutter out, gulping, "J-Joel..", but he just cuts you off, implicit and direct with his intentions.

"Y’gonna let me fuck some sense into you, baby? That what you want? You’re about a second away from begging me for it, I fuckin’ see it. Can practically smell it off you, too." Joel spits out, his tone cocky and hitting directly to your core as he glances down at your thighs clenching together, “N’ look at you here..”

He chuckles out, removing his fingers from your chin to glide them down to your trembling thighs, his fingers almost pressing into the crevice that your thighs were pressed so tightly together to create. He wets his lips as his dark gaze glances back up to your face, whispering out desperately, "Tell me you want this, honey.. Tell me n' I'll make you forget all about your lil' boyfriend."

You breathe out through your mouth heavily, lips falling a bit open as your mind races. You've thought about this moment for so long now, and you could finally have it..

Fuck it.

Wetting your lips, you quickly put them on Joel's, desperation seething out of you as your eyes shut tightly. You moan into the kiss, Joel groaning into it too as he reaches his hands for your waist, gripping onto it tightly. He almost lifts you up, gesturing for you to get on top of his lap, needing to be close to you. You just follow his request, lifting yourself up from the passenger seat to fall into his lap and straddle his waist, immediately whimpering at the feeling of his bulging crotch pressing into your panties.

You had hoped that wearing a dress tonight would be a good choice, and you were right.

Breaking away from the kiss, the two of you gasp for air, breathing in heavily as you stare at Joel with delirious eyes, nearly high off the taste of him. He just smirks at you, reaching for your cheek to hold onto it, caressing it softly. "Bout' fuckin' time, baby.. Thought you'd never get the hint." He pants out, bringing your face close to press a dirty kiss on your lips, his tongue pushing against yours.

Your impatience gets the best of you, gripping his broad shoulders with your hands as you gain enough leverage to grind your core against his crotch, moaning loudly at the friction. You can already feel how huge he is, your cunt throbbing at the thought of it stretching you out.

His eager hands move down to grip your ass, moving you exactly how he wants, pressing you down onto him even harder. His lips break away from yours, groaning out, "Fuck, baby.. Fuckin' sexy, look at you.." He says, his gaze on your desperate face and glancing down at your hips and crotch grinding against him, "Shit.. That's it.. Pretty girl like you knows how to move."

You whimper at his words, growing wetter at the rough control he has on your body, and you love it. You can't help but let out little gasps, the desire you have for him increasing every time your bodies press together, making you crave his cock even more with each second that passes.

"F-Fuck.. need you, Joel, please.." You whine out, making his eyes flash up at yours as he chuckles, gripping onto your ass even tighter. He just shakes his head, saying, "No, baby.. Y'gonna take what you need from me right here. Wanna s'ya drench my thigh.."

"You do that f'me.. come all pretty & put on a lil' show for me? Maybe I'll give ya what y'want.." Joel mutters out to you, his lips just inches away from yours as he stares into your eyes, filled with lust and an intense ache for you. He wants to savor your body as long as he possibly can.

You nod your head quickly, biting your lower lip gently as you move your legs wrapped around him to sit in between one of his large thighs, moaning out once the rough fabric of his jeans hits your throbbing cunt.

You're soaked through your panties at this point, and you don't waste a second chasing your release. Your hips slowly start to move back and forth, grinding against his thigh as you whine. Licking your lips, you pant out, stuttering out his name repeatedly as your body does all the work for you. You're not even thinking at this point; your mind's completely gone blank and focused on one thing.

"That's it, honey.. Keep goin'.. Pretty lil' thing's so needy." Joel lets out, a low groan coming out as he watches your desperate face, staring right back at him with heavy eyes. It makes his cock grow even harder, knowing that he's finally got you like this.

His hands move to grip your hips, guiding them faster as they move to your ass, squeezing it harshly as a low chuckle escapes his throat. You gasp out at the touch, encouraging you to grind down on him even faster, stimulating your swollen clit as you cry out at the feeling.

Heat flows down to your cunt and lower stomach as your climax slowly begins to build up inside of you, and it's almost like Joel can feel it. Feeling how close you are, with your soaked pussy and slick drenching his jeans and thigh.

Just like he wanted.

One of his hands lifts up to smack your ass, an unrelenting force making you whine out at the sudden strike. It sends butterflies to your stomach and a sharp jolt to your core, forcing a moan out of you and a whine of his name on your tongue.

"Sorry, baby.. Y'got such a nice ass, been waitin' so long to do that.." Joel admits, letting out a faint laugh at your response to him. He cocks his head to the side and looks up at you, mouth slightly gaped open as his tongue plays with his cheek, "Ever knew how fuckin' hard you made me? Skimpin' around with your lil' dresses and shorts, passin' me like you knew what you were doin'. Y'never noticed how I'd.. turn my fuckin' head everytime you walked past me, baby.. Glancin' back at it so I could fuck my fist to the thought of you every night.."

"Fuck, fantasized about this fuckin' moment for so long now.."

Another blow of his large hand to your ass hits you unexpectedly, making you shake above him, your hips never slowing. You bite your lip as you look down at him, hands gripping his body to keep your strength. Butterflies fill your stomach as you hear his confession, making you groan.

Your breaths speed up as your climax increases, jaw falling open as you reply to him, "Did.. Did that on purpose, Joel.. Wanted you to look at me, to want me.. Didn't think it worked, fuck— touched myself all the time cus' of you.."

Your confession goes straight to Joel's cock, making him groan out at your dirty words, his fingers ingraining themselves into your ass as he moves your hips how he wants, wanting to push you to the edge already.

"Oh, it worked, honey.. Fuckin' gorgeous girl like you, what'd make y'think it didn't? I'd be a damn fool.." He grunts out, tone low right in your ear as you whimper, your clit growing incredibly sensitive as you grow even closer. "Y'gonna come for me, baby? Feel how fuckin' soaked you are f'me.. You're shaking.. Know y'can do it, come for me, sweet girl.. S'what you wanted this whole time, huh?" Joel encourages you, his hands moving from on top of your dress to underneath it, squeezing your bare ass with just your tiny panties barely covering yourself.

The direct contact of his rough hands on your flesh has you gasping out, the sudden coolness of your skin from his hot hands creating the perfect mix. You just nod your head eagerly as you stare into Joel's eyes, biting your bottom lip the more your aching cunt grinds on him. You stammer out, eyes hazy, "Mhm, f-fuck, Joel.. M'gonna come, p-please.."

Joel just smirks as he stares at your worn out face, nodding his head to encourage you. Sliding his hands down closer to your clothed pussy, his fingertips glide across your lips, your slick coating through your panties and onto his fingers. The feeling of it makes you hiss out as Joel whispers out to you, "Gonna give you what you need, baby.. C'mon now, let me see you.. Come for me now, be a good girl.."

Those words were the final push that you needed, making your cunt clench tightly around nothing, wishing that it was Joel's cock instead. You shut your eyes as you cry out, hands gripping onto Joel's body even tighter as he coos, whispering filthy, encouraging words into your ear while his hands help you chase your release. His hands on your ass begin to slow down, finally letting the weight of your hips rest on his thigh as your climax ends, the fast thumping in your chest slowing.

Breathing heavily, you let out small pants, chest rising up and down as you open your eyes to look at Joel. You give him a tired smile, giggling softly at the state you were in, and Joel grins back up at you, moving his hands up to hold onto your face. He presses a firm kiss on your lips, relishing the taste of you on his tongue. Breaking away from your lips, his thumbs caress your cheeks, looking into your eyes, "Did so good, honey.. Y'wanna return the favor? Prove to me that you deserve more?"

Your eyes widen at his words, nodding your head desperately as you lick your lips, hoping that he's implying what you thought he was. To be sure, you eagerly ask him, "O-Of course, Joel.. What d'you want me to do? Anything you want.."

Joel's lips curl up, grinning at the tone in your voice as he drags one of his hands down to yours to grab it. Guiding your hand, your palm reaches to his hard cock all pent up against his tight jeans, making you gasp out as a deep groan escapes his throat.

"Feel that, baby? Need your lips wrapped around me.. Y'gonna do that for me?" Joel mutters out to you, his gaze dark and set on you completely. Your breath hitches in your throat at his request, and the thought of the mere act makes your mouth water, making you nod your head quickly. "Yeah, fuck, I wanna do that for you.. Been wanting it for so long, Joel.." You admit to him, this time using your hand to squeeze his bulge, feeling how much he really needed you.

He lets out a faint moan, nodding his head back at you as he smirks at your hand squeezing him so good. He questions you, "Wanted what for so long, huh? Wanna hear it, honey."

Your cheeks grow flushed at his words, gulping slightly and hesitating to respond as you look away from him, which just makes him urge you on even more. "C'mon now, you already came all over my fuckin' thigh, I know y'not gettin' all shy on me now, sweetheart.." He teases you, chuckling as he presses his hand to your face, gently squeezing it, but you know his intentions are clear. He has so much power over you; more than you even thought.

His big hands grip onto your face, forcing you to turn to look at him. It's filthy, and you can't help but love it. He nods at you, a final push, and you finally stammer out at him, throat dry, "Wanted your.. cock, Joel.. W-Wanted to suck your cock for so long— fuck, please, Joel.."

He just lets out a faint laugh and nods his head, releasing your face from his hands and patting your cheek as if he was proud of you. "That's it, honey, wasn't so hard now, was it?" He teases you, licking his lips as his eyes flicker to your own, imagining them around him already. "Let's go to the back, baby.. S'gonna be more comfortable that way."

You nod at him as his strong hold is back on you, lifting your hips gently to guide you towards the back. Once the two of you are back there, Joel's legs are laid out on the entirety of the backseat, his back leaning against the door while you're set in between him; the perfect position and view for him to watch you put on a show.

Joel seems to be impatient waiting for you to make your move, as he cocks his head to the side and stares at you. He questions, "What y'waiting for, baby? You're a big girl, aren't you? Don't need me to tell you what to do now, do I?"

You lick your lips nervously as you stare at him, giving him a small, anxious smile. It's not because you've never sucked cock before, but this was Joel, and you wanted it to be good for him. More than you've ever been with anyone else before, and especially your 'boyfriend'.

"N-No, Joel, I got it.." You respond to him, leaning your body closer as your hands reach for the zipper of his jeans. Unbuttoning them, you pull them down a bit with the help of Joel's hips lifting, and your eyes immediately latch onto his huge cock, bulging against his boxers.

You sigh out as your hands glide from his large thighs to his underwear, reaching underneath the hem of the fabric to grasp onto his cock, pulling it out. The mere sight of it makes your jaw fall open slightly, gasping and mouth watering at how thick he was. Fuck, he's the biggest you've ever seen. It made you a bit nervous, but so fucking aroused, as you feel the slick growing between your folds because of it.

Your reaction makes Joel chuckle, leaning his head a bit forward to get a better look at the expression on your face. He lifts his hand to press his fingers against your cheek, holding onto your jaw and caressing your cheek with his thumb. It makes you look back up at him as he questions you, "Too big for you, honey? You ever even sucked cock before?"

You gulp as you purse your lips, nodding your head slightly, "I.. Yeah, I have, but fuck— never this big, Joel.." You respond to him truthfully, your stomach filling up with butterflies of a mixture of nerves and arousal.

He grins at you, laughing a bit cockily, "Don't worry, baby.. Gonna take me real good, right? Make me proud?" He challenges you, the fingers placed on your cheek now sliding down towards your lips, gently pressing the tips of them right at the entrance of your mouth. "Let's start off with these, huh? Wanna see if y'can take em' like you're gonna take me.."

You whimper at his words that hit you right to your core, making you clench around nothing. You couldn't wait for him to fuck you already. You just nod your head slowly, eyes never leaving his as you gently open your mouth for him. Joel takes this as an invitation to continue, slowly moving his index and middle fingers in your mouth.

"Suck on em', baby.. Lemme see what y'can do.." Joel tells you, his head lifting up a bit as his dark gaze looks down at your lips. You just obey him, closing your lips around his fat fingers as he inches them further and further in your mouth towards your throat. Your tongue falls flat underneath his fingers, sucking on them gently as you lift your hands to hold onto his wrist.

Joel starts to grin at you, humming out in satisfaction as he encourages you, "There we go, pretty fuckin' lips.. Show me how you'd suck my cock, c'mon now.."

You moan around his fingers, both of your hands gripping onto his wrist as you use it to pull them out of your mouth, guiding them back in deep as if they really were his cock. You shut your eyes at the feeling of it, reaching further down your throat as you moan again. The taste of him is intoxicating.

Your eyes open back up to stare at him intently, and Joel gives you a light smile, making you feel that sense of pride that you've always craved from him. "Good fuckin' girl.. Shit, lookin' so good like this, baby.." He mutters out lowly, a faint groan coming out.

Before you can continue, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, immediately making you feel empty. You whine out softly at your disappointment which makes him chuckle, reassuring you, "C'mon, honey— Think y'ready now. Make it good for me, yeah?"

You nod eagerly, wanting nothing more than to please him as much as you could. You lean a bit back, giving yourself a bit more room to get in the right position as your hands reach for his cock again. Wrapping a hand around him, you notice that he isn't even fully hard yet, and he's already so fucking big. It doesn't ease your nerves in the slightest, but the ache you feel for him in your cunt distracts you from it completely.

Lowering your head and body, your lips inch closer and closer to the fat head of his cock while your hand slowly strokes him up and down, trying to get him fully hard for your mouth to take him. You look up at him as your lips wrap around the tip of it, sucking onto it gently as you feel him finally harden in your mouth.

Your tongue does its work, circling around him and licking the tip of it while you suck, your eyes never leaving his as his own flicker all over your face; your eyes, your lips. Joel lets out a low groan, reaching over to your head to hold onto it to have some leverage to encourage you.

You slowly lower your head now, taking his cock deeper into your mouth as you moan around it, sending vibrations through Joel's entire body as he hisses at the feeling. "Fuck, that's it.. Deeper, baby, lemme see how much y'can take.." Joel's words fill your ears as you continue, your mouth barely able to take him all the way to the base.

His cock hits the back of your throat, making you gag at the sudden intrusion. Your eyes water as you blink, still staring back up at him to see that reaction on his face. You notice how it twists in pleasure, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment, and you lift your head back up to gasp for air, immediately lowering your lips back onto him so you don't waste any second that passes.

The noises that Joel makes are filthy, filling your ears and making them burn as your mouth never falters, jaw stretched out as wide as possible for you to take all of him. Joel's grunts become louder, and you take that as sign that you're doing things right, which makes your body fill with pride.

Closing your eyes, you relish the feeling of his heavy cock on your tongue, the fat tip of it letting out small spurts of pre-cum down your throat. The taste of him only makes you push your head down even further, attempting to take him all the way to the base, but he hits the back of your throat, making you gag out at the unexpected impact.

Before you can lift your head up, Joel's grip on your head tightens as he holds you there, his throat letting out low pants as he stares right at your lips connecting to the base of his cock. Groaning out, he laughs faintly, saying, "Take it, honey, doin' so good for me, f-fuck.."

Barely processing it all, he uses his other hand to slap your face almost condescendingly, and it just makes you moan around him, your throat clenching and eyes opening up to look at him. You didn't even know you liked that, but Joel's power over you has you nearly seeing stars.

Joel lets out a chuckle, all mean and teasingly, "Fuck, yeah.. Dirty girl, you like that shit?" He asks you, and you moan around his cock again, nose breathing in heavily for air as your eyes droop down a bit, nearly high off the feeling of him using your throat. Laughing out, a smirk appears on his face as his hand's grip on you pulls you back up for a moment so you can breathe properly.

Without him even having to encourage you, your mouth is back on him once you catch your breath, desperate to please him and taste his cock again. It makes Joel grunt out, snickering out at you, "Fuck, you're worse than I thought, baby.. You act so innocent, but you're takin' cock like s'all you're meant for.."

You hum against him, eyes looking back up as you take him deeper with your tongue flattening underneath his shaft, and it drives Joel crazy. He just hisses out, hand on your head once again, "Shit.. I'm right, ain't I? Pretty throat’s been craving this, huh? Lil’ boyfriend couldn’t satisfy you.. Thas’ okay, m’ right here now, honey..”

His words send a throbbing pang to your cunt, growing wetter at the thought of him and knowing that he's satisfying your needs more than your boyfriend ever could. It makes you realize that Joel was right; that he was the real man that you needed.

Joel's hands start to guide your lips now, moving your head up and down on him as he watches his cock disappear back down your throat over and over again. Your jaw falls slack as you let him use you just how he wants, eyes watering with tears threatening to fall as his thick cock continues to stretch your lips and throat so good.

The look on your face is nearly pornographic, your lips shaped tightly right around the girth of his cock as if it was a hole meant for him to fuck. The sight of you makes Joel's cock twitch, moaning lowly as he pants out, “What would y’family think if they saw you like this, honey? Lookin’ like a fuckin’ whore with my cock down your throat, like the fuckin’ slut you are. That’s just what you are, right, baby? A lil’ whore for me, s’that it? Gonna let me keep you.. fuck you when I want? Know that’s what you want..”

You just nod your head eagerly at him, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the sound of his nasty words, and it feels so fucked up knowing that it's turning you on so much. You've always imagined what it'd be like for Joel to just use you how he wants, imagining how it'd be like, and now it's finally happening.

Joel chuckles out at your response to him, and he grunts out as his climax builds up, unexpectedly pulling your mouth off of him as you gasp out for air. Your face looks confused and disheveled, but Joel assures you, "Don't wanna come just yet, baby, we got time for that later. Wanna be in you now."

Before you can respond to him, Joel leans in towards you, his hands reaching out for your body to move you how he wants. Grasping onto your sides, he lifts you slightly to turn you around, moving you to get on your knees to crawl and face away from him. Your body just follows his hands until he has you where he wants, getting onto your hands and knees, bent over for him to stare out the window.

Your breathing grows heavier, gulping softly as you turn your head to look back at him. Joel doesn't waste a second to immediately cherish the view in front of him, his hands now roaming from your calves right up to your thighs, savoring your skin on his fingertips that are now inching towards your aching core.

Your dress is the perfect length for him to see you completely; not too long and not too short, but it's too much coverage for Joel's liking anyways.

His hands move up towards your ass, instinctively pushing the fabric covering you up and over, resting it on your lower back so his view is right of your clothed cunt. Your wet slick has seeped through the light fabric, making Joel chuckle out as he stares right at it. His eyes make you blush, a bit of embarrassment filling your cheeks evidently as you look away from him for a moment.

He just glances up at you and grins, shaking his head at your reaction, "No need to get shy, baby.. S'hot, y'know that? Knowin' this pretty pussy's all soaked for me? Shit.." Joel lets out, laughing faintly as his stare returns back to your cunt, hands sliding back down to your ass. His thumb runs across your folds pressed so tightly together by your thighs, making you gasp and shiver out at the touch.

He moves his other hand now, index and middle finger sliding just beneath the side of your panties to get a good grip of it, pulling it to the side so he can see your throbbing hole and wet folds. It's a dirty scene right in front of him, but it has his cock twitching at the sight.

"Fuck, look at that.. Need me that bad, baby?" Joel whispers out to you, his eyes flickering up to your desperate face and back down. His stare and words make you whine out, your hole clenching around nothing as you swallow.

You do need him that bad, and you were getting impatient.

The action makes Joel sigh out, his thumb now sliding against your bare cunt and through your lips, gathering up how wet you were. His thumb now finds your entrance, pressing in just the tip of it as his eyes move back up to your face, eager to see your reaction.

You just moan out and clench around it desperately, eyes shutting for a moment as your heart races. "Fuck, Joel, just fuck me already, p-please.. Need it so bad.." You beg him, biting your bottom lip harshly as your wide eyes stare into his own.

He just licks his lips as he hears you, considering it for a moment. "Y'think you can take me like this, honey? Don't need me to do anything else? Might hurt.." He asks you, his concerns still evident despite the position you two were in.

You just nod your head at him quickly, whining out softly, "Yeah, fuck, I can take it, please— just need you, Joel.." Your chest rises as you breathe in heavily, wanting him to fuck you already.

Joel smirks at your pleads, the desperation getting the best of you, and it makes his cock even harder. He just nods up at you and removes his thumb from your cunt, shifting his knees and hips closer to your ass as he grips his cock with his hand.

He glides the tip of it up and down your folds, gathering the slick as much as he could. Pressing it against your entrance, he looks up at your face, his other hand gripping onto your hip as he slowly eases it into you. The stretch of him makes you hiss out, shutting your eyes at the intrusion and how big he is.

You stammer out, "F-Fuck, Joel.." as you pant softly, taking in deep breaths to let your walls relax and adjust to him as much as you could. He just grips onto your hip even tighter, giving you a sense of guidance and reassurance.

Joel's heart races at the feeling of your walls clench around him, feeling how tight you are. Grunting out, he pushes himself even deeper inside of you, still taking his time, "Good girl, baby.. Doin' so good, y'feel so good, shit.." He gasps out, his eyes now fixed onto the sight of his cock entering your stretched out cunt.

"Tight fuckin' pussy.. Haven't had one like this in so long, fuck.."

Your breaths speed up with each inch that fills you up, the girth of him creating a stinging ache between your thighs that were nearly trembling. The grasp your walls has on his cock makes it almost harder for him to move further, so he pauses— taking a second for you to adjust.

"You okay, honey? Doin' so good for me, such a sweet girl.." He murmurs out to you, almost panting out as he hisses out. His hands gently caress your lower back and ass, reassuring you as he bends over a bit to press small kisses on your skin. It makes you shiver, nodding your head in response to him, "M' okay, Joel.. Feels so good, p-please move.."

His heavy eyes look back up at you, acknowledging your request and smiling softly. It sends butterflies through your stomach at the thought of him caring so much about you, making sure that you were comfortable and enjoying yourself just as much as he was.

He presses one last kiss to your lower back, pressing his hands on it as he lifts himself back up. Gripping onto your hips, he nods at you and finally pushes himself all the way inside of your throbbing cunt, his hips now flushed against your own. The sudden movement makes you gasp out, your hands holding your body up attempting to squeeze onto the fabric of the seat.

"J-Joel!" You moan his name, eyes closing harshly at the feeling of the fat tip of his cock pressing so deep inside of you, making your involuntary walls constrict around him. It creates a burn in your lower stomach, your body growing hot at the feeling. It makes Joel grunt out, his neck lifting up for a moment to take a breath as he looks back down at your hips connected to his, hands caressing your skin.

He rocks his hips against yours, moving just slightly to get some friction as he allows you to adjust, groaning, "That's it, there y'go.. Knew you could take it, baby, fuck— Feelin' so good wrapped around me, s'it what you wanted?" He asks you, eyes flickering up at your face. Biting your lip, you nod, stammering out, "Mmphf— Y-You're.. so deep, shit, feels so good.."

He chuckles out, stare fixed on your worn out face as he pulls his hips back a bit, taking his time to thrust back into you as deep as he could. He wanted to prove to himself that what you were saying was true.

"S'that right, sweetheart? So deep? Y'feel me right here?" He asks, moving one of his hands just beneath your body and sliding it to your lower stomach, pressing harshly against it. It makes you gasp, feeling the bulge of his cock imprinting itself. You whine, breathing out, "O-Oh, fuck, Joel.. Yeah, feel you right there.."

He just grins at your response, muttering out, "That's fuckin' right, honey.. n' I'm the only one who's ever been this deep, huh?" He urges you on, head leaning a bit closer to you as his hips press tightly against your pussy.

You cry out, shutting your eyes for a moment as you nod, unable to fully form a coherent sentence for him. He just tuts his tongue, head shaking disapprovingly as he pulls his hips back all of the way, not taking a second to wait to slam himself back into you.

It makes you grunt, eyes shooting open as his words fill your ears, the slight mean tone in his voice making your face burn, "Asked you a question, baby.. So you tell me, your lil' boyfriend ever fuck you this good, honey? Fill this pretty pussy this deep?"

Your mind grows hazy, cheeks flushed as you attempt to spit out what he wants to hear, "N-No, Joel.. I, I-"

"No? No? C'mon, haven't even really fucked you yet n' you're already actin' so dumb.. S'that it, cock just make you all stupid for me?"

Tears fill your eyes as his hips pull and push right back into you again, giving you another thrust of his thick cock as you sob out, "J-Joel, shit, no, it jus'.. feels too good, p-please.." You moan, feeling the tight grip his fingers have on your ass nearly imprinting themselves into your skin.

"C'mon now.. Louder, baby, lemme hear it.. Tell me, wanna hear it loud n' clear.. Answer my question.." He pushes you, tone growing louder and strict. His thrusts begin to create an increasing rhythm that makes your jaw drop open at the feeling, his cock stretching your tight walls out with each push of his hips.

"No, Joel! N-Never.. never fucked me this good, oh fuck, never.. this d-deep.. shit!" You blurt out, mind barely thinking as you spit the words out. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, your brain and body goes numb, shuttering at the feeling of his unrelenting movements as your head hangs low, staring at your hands gripping the seat.

Joel's grunts and moans surround you completely as your ears begin to ring, his faint laugh and sudden smack of his hand on your ass snapping you out of it at the sting, "That's right.. pretty girl knows her place, fuck," He rushes out, suddenly grasping onto your hair to pull your head back, making you cry out, "Knew you'd be so good for me, honey.. Actin' like a fuckin' slut, takin' my cock this good.."

You breath out heavily, panting out as he holds back your head by his rough grip on your hair, pulling you back a bit to turn your head to try and get a look at him. His words make your pussy clench around him even tighter, turned on at his degradation.

You hum softly, whining as you nod your head gently, tears filling your eyes and threatening to fall as his pace grows even faster, now slamming into your cunt over and over again. He chuckles and grins at the slight sight of your eyes filling up, making him pout condescendingly at you.

"What? M' I wrong, honey? Y'gonna tell me you haven't been practically begging me to fuck you all these years? To treat you like this; like the slut you are, huh?" He taunts you, pulling his cock out all the way to rest against your entrance, and slamming it back in as deep as he could, "Know it's all you've wanted.. all you've ever fantasized about.. Y'don't gotta do that anymore, baby.. cus' I'm right here. Gonna treat you like the fuckin' whore you are.. That's what you are to me.. My fuckin' slut."

A tear finally falls down your cheek, making your lungs fill with air as you pant, mouth falling open and cunt convulsing around him. The tip of his cock keeps hitting the deepest spot inside of you, nearly making you blank out as his words make your cheeks flush. "J-Joel, I—"

Before you can stammer anything else out, Joel's grip on your hair now pulls your body up completely, making your back hit his strong chest, despite it being covered by his tight shirt. Your breath hitches in your throat, barely able to think as his sudden hand lets go of your hair and wraps it around your neck, holding your body right against him.

Keeping you still with the control he has, you moan out and flutter your eyes shut, body shaking and tightening up at him choking you. The back of your head lays on his shoulder, resting it there as he leans in close to your ear, whispering out, "Gonna ruin you for everyone else, baby.. Every time anybody else fucks you, you're gonna think of me; me and my fuckin' cock making you fall apart.. Y'gonna come runnin' back to me.. every fuckin' time— M' gonna make sure of it."

Your eyes open hazily, widening at his words as the grip he has on your throat suddenly pushes you away, making your chest and upper body fall down against the seat, arms not even having any power to hold yourself up. His hands and fingertips sink back into your lower back, now pressing your stomach flush against the seat as it creates an angle that makes you feel him deeper than you've ever felt before.

You can barely process it now, your mouth spewing incoherent noises and words as he holds you down, practically using you just how he pleases. Your hips pushed against the seat are constantly being driven by his thrusts, your pubic bone and sensitive clit being stimulated with each shove.

It makes your eyes shut tightly, unable to control yourself as you pant and moan out for him repeatedly, your hands shaking as you can barely get yourself to hold onto something. His cock buries itself inside of your throbbing cunt over and over again, Joel laughing at the squelching noises that your pussy was letting out.

Before he can say anything, a ring fills his ears that suddenly grab his attention, making his head turn as his movements slow just enough to grasp your attention to make you turn your head and look at the source too.

Your phone, laying on the middle compartment right next to Joel; he reaches for it and sees who's calling, making him grin and chuckle out.

Your boyfriend.

"Well, would y'look at this, honey? Talkin' about runnin' back.." Joel mutters out, turning the phone towards your direction for you to see it too. It just makes your eyes widen, cunt clenching as Joel tests you, "Why don't we let em' hear what you're up to, baby? See how much he's missin' out, huh?"

You know it's so fucking wrong; yet, so fucking right.

Joel doesn't even wait for your response, and just licks his lips and presses answer, putting it on speaker as he lays the phone flat against your back, lifting one of his hands on your hips to smack your ass. The force creates a loud spank, filling the phone's speakers as Joel's hips begin to move at a faster pace again.

It makes you mewl out, tears falling down your face again as your hands try to grip on the seat you were laying on. His grunts are loud and lewd, the snap of his hips smacking against your ass and thighs as he makes you take his cock repeatedly, "There y'go, just like that.." He mumbles out.

Your boyfriend's voice fills your ears now, confusion and the evident drunken tone making you roll your eyes, "The fuck? What was that, baby?"

Before you can even respond, Joel cuts you off, doing the job right for you.

"Y'don't gotta worry about her anymore.. M' takin' real good care of her now.. Ain't that right, baby?" Joel groans out, smacking your ass again as he leans in closer towards your back, nearly laying his chest against you. You just whine out in response, nodding your head quickly as Joel urges you further, tutting his tongue, "No, no, lemme hear it, honey.. Why don't y'tell him yourself? Let him know how good you're takin' my cock.."

Your body and face grows hot, licking your dry lips as you stutter, "F-Feels so g-good, Joel.. You're takin' such good care of me now, I—"

"What the fuck, babe? No, no, this can't be fucking happening."

Joel laughs loudly at your boyfriend's words, leaning his head closer to speak right into your phone, "Oh, but it is, boy. Not m'fault you couldn't fuck your girl this good. But, wait.. she isn't 'your girl' anymore now, is she?" He asks him, the arrogant tone spewing out as his voice lowers.

He reaches his hand over to your neck again, wrapping it around and squeezing it tightly as he ruts himself in you fast and hard, the pace and the hold of his fingers making you scream out his name.

"You fucking asshole, I'll fucking—"

Joel just cuts him off, sighing out annoyingly as he shakes his head, "Shut the fuck up. Don't you fuckin' call her again, much less lay a hand on her. You do that n' I find out?— I will find you. N' I'll make sure to break every bone in your fuckin' body, boy."

As your boyfriend gasps at his words, he begins to stutter some pathetic shit that Joel doesn't wanna bother hearing anymore; so he ends the call, tossing your phone to the side to focus back on you completely.

Shutting his eyes, Joel sighs out as he presses firm, yet gentle kisses to your back, his hips now going a bit slower, but deliberately harder so you can feel every inch of him, cherishing your tight cunt with each second that passes.

"There we go, honey.. Took care of that for you, y'don't gotta worry about him now, fuck— M' gonna make you feel so good.. y'won't need anyone else.." Joel whispers in your ear, laying his chest and body completely over your back as his entire being consumes you, his cock filling you to the brim with each push and pull.

His chin rests just below your shoulder now, grunting into your ear as he mutters filthy words into it, "That right, baby? M' I the only one you need? Gonna let me be the only one who can fuck this pretty little pussy? F-Fuck, please.. lemme hear it, shit— need to hear you say it.."

The pace of his movements start to speed up again as you stammer out, "Y-Yeah, Joel, you're the only one I need, fuck!" his cock twitching at your confession as you continue, "Only need you, only want your cock in me, please— need you to fill me up, make me yours, Joel.."

He moans at your words, panting out as he feels himself growing closer at your pleads, and you're right with him too. His cock hits that spot in your core over and over again, making you wail and sob out at the feeling of your stomach tightening and coiling, biting your lower lip harder to try and stop you from blabbering out.

"Don't do that, baby, no, wanna hear you— please, make those pretty lil' noises for me, honey, y'sound so pretty like this," Joel blurts out, unable to even think as he slams his hips against your ass, creating a sting that makes you lightheaded with your climax growing furiously, "Gonna make me come so deep inside you, baby, jus' like you want.."

His words hit something inside you, making you suddenly see stars as your pussy convulses around his cock, clenching and grasping onto him tightly as you come, your slick coating your thighs and his cock completely. Your body shakes and trembles as he fucks you through it, laughing faintly at your sudden orgasm. "Oh, fuck— there y'go baby, pretty fuckin' girl, take it.." Joel moans out, panting even louder and faster as he chases his own release.

You cry out, your cunt being overstimulated by his unrelenting thrusts as he buries himself even harder and deeper into you, making you spew out, "Shit, Joel! C-Come inside me, fill me up, please, please, need it so—"

Joel's loud grunts cut you off, feeling the sudden warmth of his come spill inside of you completely as he slams his cock in as deep as he can, making sure you feel every inch of him and his come. His hips rock into you, grinding his pelvis harshly to try and get even a fraction of him deeper inside of you. It makes you wince out, your sore cunt oversensitive at the feeling.

His body completely gives out on top of yours, his breaths filling your ears as you both take each other in, falling from your highs and trying your best to relax. You laugh softly as you process everything that's just happened, and Joel does the same, pressing small kisses to the back of your neck as his hand lets it go.

"Shit, honey— so fuckin' good.. You alright?" He mutters out, chuckling as you turn your head slightly to look at him, taking in your worn and fucked out face. You just nod your head at him, feeling a bit hazy as you smile, laughing out, "Yeah.. Never better."

Joel's eyes glimmer as he swallows, pushing aside the hair that was covering your face as he admires you, grinning softly at you, "Should've done this years ago.. Y'been holdin' back on me, baby." He murmurs out, his smile widening.

You press a small kiss to his lips, licking your own as you correct him, "Been trying to get you to for years, Joel.. not my fault it took this long." He just shakes his head amusingly, pursing his lips.

"Well.. Y'wanna stay with me for the night? Maybe I can teach y'another lesson on how a.. 'real man' should treat ya?" He proposes to you, laughing at his reference of what he said to you earlier and what started this in the first place.

You just smile at him and nod your head eagerly:

"Wouldn't want anything more."

a/n: kinda wanted to make joel threaten/hit reader's bf, but i figured joel's idea of revenge was so much sweeter <3

this is by far my fav fic i've written out of my 1st three, so i’d love some feedback from you all! ♥️

wanna be on a taglist? fill out the google form in my pinned post!

reblogs are appreciated!

send me requests & i might write it for you! :)

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 10 months ago

Text

Dead Of Night (Rules, Part 2.)

Description: Coming back home was a doozie - it felt like starting anew. Meeting your dad's new best friend, however, turned your life upside down - and it was the two of you who had to set the record straight and figure out how to move on.

Part Summary: The night in the company of two Texan gentlemen is going well - Joel and Tommy are ensuring you're having a blast. Joel even goes up and beyond in this regard. It was too good to be true... Until it fucking wasn't.

Warnings: dad's best friend daddy joel (i don't think there's more to say to that) | age gaps all around, baby - joel being approximately 33 (reader being 8 years his junior), putting sarah around 13 years of age and sam at 18, reader's parents in late forties/early fifties | alcohol consumption | smoking (implied and active) | BILLIARD SHENANIGANS WITH THE MILLER BROTHERS™️ | NSFW activities - oral (f!receiving), sex at the bathroom stalls, inappropriate thoughts | i guess potential sub-con (we are drunk but very consensual) | we love a consensual king joel miller

A/N: The 'I like this song' is Orville's Peck Dead Of Night (name inspo, yay) - yanow, when it's late a party, they play slow and sappy songs to calm people before going down and to let all the lovey-dovey couples suck soul outta each other. And I love that.

Tagging: My sweetest, one and only @missdictatorme.

Word count: 10.1K - I cannot express how sorry I am for the length, but I had too much fun with this and didn't wanna pull out a two-parter with nothing exciting in it. I divided it into sections the best I could for easier reading.

Masterlist: H E R E | Playlist: H E R E

Leaving Joel and his compadre outside, you decided to spend some time playing pool - the elderly gentlemen occupying it were kind enough to let you play a few games. It was fun watching Anne getting tipsy, balancing on her tiptoes as she leaned her entire upper body onto the table, her tongue sticking out of her mouth due to concentration. You've won most of the games (mainly because neither of you knew the billiard or pool or whatever you've been playing), but Anne insisted on calling it a draw. Cheeky little pup, that's what she was. Just as you prepared the cues for the guys who'd landed them for you, a familiar Texan drawl could be heard behind you.

"Howdy, gentlemen." - The nameless guy greeted, nodding at the guys waiting for their pool table to be free. The elderly gentlemen nodded at the newcomers. - "Would y'all mind us havin' a few quick games with the ladies? We'll let you be after, promise. " "'s yours, son. Take ya time." "Yessir." - The guy thanked, walking over to Anne and pointing at the cue. - "May I? You're doin' it wrong, sugar." "'M not. But if you think you're more experienced..." "Been playin' pool with that rascal over there since we were tweens. Trust me on this one." - With that, he carefully tore the cue out of Anne's palm, seizing the cue chalk as well.

"Don't mind him, he's a show-off." - When his husky, melodic voice hit your ears, it almost gave you a heart attack - you were so preoccupied with watching Anne giving the guy a stare of death that you forgot Joel might be around too. You definitely didn't expect him to sneak up on you like that. "'s my technique bad, too?" "Worst I've seen." - He muttered, snickering. - "There's no technique to chalk a cue properly, don't worry. He's just makin' stuff up to be interestin'." - Joel explained, making you snicker too. You've handed him the cue nonetheless, making him put his beer down - he'd been skilled with it, you noticed; the two must've been playing since they were tweens, just as the other guy said.

Soon, you became too preoccupied with Joel's hands to care about some stupid pool - based on the callouses and small scars along his fingers and knuckles, he must've been used to working with his hands. Now that he'd folded the shirt's sleeves up to his elbows, you could see all the prominent veins and other scars, some of which were pretty deep. Without you trying to resist, your mind spiraled into imaginations of these palms taking handfuls of your ass, kneading it like bread. How would it feel to hold his hand? Would he let you entwine your fingers with his? How would it feel if he'd slap you - either teasingly or amidst all the heat and lust, say... Fucking you from the back? How would it feel when his palms would spread your thighs apart, his fingers sliding inside you? How would it... That's when you realized Joel was talking to you, watching you ogling at his forearms for a good minute. Your eyes jumped from his forearms to his face, looking at him dumbfoundedly - Joel scoffed upon seeing your expression.

"Huh?" "Was askin' 'bout your name, cutie, but don't take me wrong - wouldn't mind callin' you names." - Leaning closer, Joel gave you a warm smile. - "Have I interrupted somethin' in that head 'f yours, sweet girl?" - Oh God, he knew - he fucking knew. You were busted, flustered upon hearing his implication. Your brain blanked momentarily as you tried to come up with an answer. "Y/N." - You mumbled, mesmerized with the amused look in his eyes. - "Name's Y/N." "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl, I see."

"You two done with starin' into each other's eyes?" - The nameless guy called out, startling you - Joel remained as cool as a cucumber, his eyes following each move you made. Trying to wave it off, you walked to the table, leaning your palms into the side. "Yup. Bet our cue is chalked up way better than yours." - Cocky tone present in your voice made the nameless guy grin. Following up on the statement, you raised eyebrows in Joel's direction for support. The man didn't let you wait for too long. "Don't ya worry. I'll win it thanks to how you chalked it... And for you." - Joel added silently, brushing his palm on your lower back before he walked straight to the table - the first game was reserved for the two buddies to warm up. Even this quick, seemingly meaningless gesture had you shivering.

"You guys get to it. I'll go for a cig and get you some beer while you two clash it out." - Anne offered, grasping your hand in hers. Then she turned her head toward the elderly gentlemen. - "Y'all good? Want us to bring ya somethin'?" "We're good, sweetheart, thanks for askin'." "You asked them, but don't ask me?" - The nameless guy whined, looking at Anne with a well-portrayed offense. Joel snorted, carefully putting the pool balls into the triangle. "Cut it off, Miss Dramatic. Imma get you both a glass of Jack, 'f course. Do I look like a monster?"

"Thanks, Anne." - Both guys muttered in unison. Joel poked the balls first, having them scattered all over the table. Then he grabbed the chalk, furrowing while thinking about his next step. "You better win, Tommy, or I'm pouring your glass down my throat." - Oh, his name was Tommy. Joel's buddy Tommy. Noted. "And who's bein' dramatic, huh? Go now, you two." - Tommy waved in your direction, laughing while he tried to figure out the approach to his next poke.

After letting Anne have her smoke break, it was time to make your way to the bar. It wasn't easy - people were taking a break from dancing and started ordering their drinks. All the people smoking outside were coming back in, ordering new rounds of cocktails, shots, beers, and what have you. It took a moment, but you got four beers, two Jacks, and two shots of Chupito, carrying the alcohol back to the pool table. Anne started running her mouth again as you approached the pool tables. "You believe me now, or..?" "Believe you what?" "Believe me what I said about Joel? He's fuckin' smitten." "Joel being smitten? Are you deaf or just purposely ignore how Tommy talks to you? Who's smitten here?"

"Ah, I see. Too bad he ain't my type." - Anne sighed, looking at the duo debating over one of the balls' and its position. You had no idea what was wrong with it, but both looked hot debating. - "Suppose Tommy looks like a fun guy overall - nothin' for me, though... Ehhh... Maybe as a friend? That could work out. Anyway, stop deflectin', girl. You and Joel, that's the topic. I can sense the vibes are present, the chemistry is flowin', he can't take his eyes off you, calls you sweet pet names, watches you when you don't pay attention and grins to himself. To add to the evidence, he touched your back even though he had zero reason two, and don't think we missed how he snuck his palm up your waist and prolonged the greetin' for as long as he could... C'mon, I've seen you starin' at him. And he saw it too - and that old bastard was complimented by it." - Well, it was time to stop pretending, you assumed. You couldn't counter everything she just dropped on your ass - Anne and Tommy saw it all anyway.

"Fine, fine. Thing is... I've never felt like this about anyone. I feel like we've clicked right away, not a word needed to be said. Girl, that man's smoking hot - have you seen him? Heard him?" - You whined, watching Joel chalking the cue up again while watching Tommy prepare for his poke. - "It's just... Scary. Bizzare, yannow? This doesn't happen with strangers all the time. Why me? That's the main question. What does he see in me? Is he just pulling my sock? Would it be a hook-up, or would he want to see me again? What if he does this on the reg, just pulls random women in the club, fucks them and goes home?" "You think he wouldn't wanna see you again? That's what's bothering you?" - Anne stopped in her tracks, looking at you with disbelief. - "Even if! Live your life - drag him to the bathroom stalls, fuck the soul outta him, and make him remember this night forever, girl. But, to be fair... Takin' the way he stares at us right now into account, just to make sure we hadn't run away, tells me this guy will definitely wanna see you again. On top of that, the birds chirped that they hadn't seen Joel smitten like this in a long time either." "... Tommy told you that?" "Shush now. Just be hot and live your best life. Joel's fuckin' mesmerized and so are you." - She muttered as you approached the table. Cheerfully, she waved the glasses in her hand, earning applause from the duo. - "How's it goin', you two? Figured out who's the bigger alfa?"

"Kicked his sorry ass, as always." - Joel muttered, letting Tommy set the table for you, putting balls into the triangle, ensuring everything was set right. "You clearly cheated." - Tommy whined, accepting his beer and glass Jack from Anne, the other one landing right into Joel's palm. "Or maybe, you're just ass at pool?" - Anne chimed in, smiling sweetly right into Tommy's face - this earned an earnest chuckle from the gentlemen watching your matches unravel. Just like before, Tommy snickered in disbelief, turning right to Anne animatedly. Before you knew, the two were arguing again.

"She's not being too nice to Tommy. Sorry for that." "Don't worry 'bout him, pretty girl. He likes 'em spicy. 's good for him to let someone deflate his ego now and then." "Mhm, noted." - You and Joel were leaning into an empty table next to the pool, sipping on your beers, standing with aptly distance between you two. As you watched the two bickering (something regarding the balls' placement and Tommy's balls if you hadn't misheard), the question slipped past your lips on its own. Alcohol made you courageous, it always did. - "And what do you like, Texas?" "What?" - Joel asked, ensuring that you've truly dropped the question, that he wasn't imagining it or mishearing. By that point, he was scooping over to you, his shoulder nudging into yours, his other palm finding the small of your back again, nesting there, his fingers playing with the fabric of your shirt. "I asked, what is it that you like?" - His face was close enough for you to feel his breath on the apple of your cheek as you cocked your head to him, innocently taking a sip of beer. He was at a loss for words for a bit, licking his lips as he tried to come up with an answer.

Just as Joel leaned closer to your ear and rubbed his nose in your hair, the grip on your t-shirt growing stonger, Anne turned to you, swinging her palms around in disbelief.

"That can't be right! No! Tommy, I know you're fuckin' with me. Joel, please tell him he's... Oh... Oh, fuck, sorry." - The girl giggled, growing flustered as she realized she'd just ruined your moment. Trying to salvage the situation, Joel cleared his throat, put his beer down, and grabbed the cue. Cool as a cucumber, just like before - except the blush spreading on his cheeks. The blush made you snicker, it was cute. "Ready for another round?" "Betcha ass. Imma blow smoke all up your arse, Y/N!" "I don't think that's what you meant to say, Anne." "Whatever, I sounded Bri'sh 'enough, didn't I?" - She reiterated, snatching the cue right from Tommy's palm, pointing her finger at him. - "If you try to talk into how I'm playin' pool one time..." - Aaand... They were bickering again.

"I know shit about pool and billiard." - You confessed in a whisper, having Joel hum while chalking your cue. - "Won by pure luck each time." "For starters, we're playin' billiard, sweetheart. Want some assistance? I definitely know more than that moron." "... I deadass thought it's a pool table, on my honor. Help? Would be brilliant, thank you." - As you leaned to take the cue, Joel pushed it out of your reach, knitting his eyebrows together. He seemed confused. "Are you really British?" "I won't tell, cowboy. Better if I keep you guessing for a bit. Makes me look more mysterious." - This time, you victoriously grabbed the cue, walking towards the table to offer Anne a handshake of truce and a good sport. You've done it before each game - the elderly gentlemen liked your sportsmanship.

Anne was doing the shot-up - leaning her entire upper body into the table, pushing her tongue out as she assessed the balls with a furrow, tapping her foot to Toto's Hold the Line. The shot-up was good, she even managed to score one, taking the striped balls for herself. Clear balls it was, then. "Damn." - Tommy sighed, nodding to himself. - "Well played." "Don't underestimate my billiard abilities ever again. I'm already playing leagues better than you." "She ain't wrong." - Joel chimed in, leading you closer to the table. Just like he planned, this gave the duo another reason to bicker, ignoring whatever it was you two were doing.

"My goal is to put all the clears into pockets, no?" "Fast learner, I see." "As if..." - Leaning onto the table, you did your best to replicate the finger stance your father taught you. - "Pops used to be a billiard enthusiast when I was little - that was before he fucked up his back. Did his damnest to teach me all about it." "Yeah, can tell it's been a while back time since you last played. Only blind people wouldn't see how bad that finger position is. Keep your hand like that, and it's gonna cramp in no time. C'mere." - As if he'd done it a million before, Joel walked up next to you, leaning over your back - his chest was pressed to your torso, his arms copied yours, and his chin settled on your shoulder. Your heart fluttered so hard you were worried about it jumping out of your chest. You didn't hear a word from whatever Joel tried teaching you, but God bless him for attempting anyway. Completely tuned out, you just nodded along, enjoying how his felt body pressed this close to yours (hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder), fingers of his left palm ghosting over yours, the other caressing the small of your back. God, Joel smelled so good - wood, soil, hints of cologne mixed with his musk? Absolute fucking heaven.

"Can you do that for me?" - The guy asked, turning his head to you, boring his eyes into yours. He was so close, his nose just mere inches away from yours - if you'd lean just in slightly, you could kiss him. "Do what?" - You whispered in an answer, having him snicker - the vibration ran through your body like lightning, igniting the bundle of nerves between your legs. This was when you realized you were fucked, at Joel's mercy. Shuddering and trying to keep a serious face on, Joel brought your attention to the posture of your hand, sweeping his thumb over your upper hand. "Keep your hand like this, pretty girl. It'll work better than whatever you were tryin' to create before." - Leaning away from you to let you play, he squeezed your hip to wish you the best of luck.

The moment he did so, a quiet whimper left your mouth, the cue bumping into the white ball at full speed - letting you score your first pocket. You were absentmindedly staring in front of yourself, your heart jumping right to your throat. Joel heard the whimper. It was written all over his fucking grin. He was also smart enough to put two and two together. If you reacted like that, how would you react once he's balls deep inside you? How would your sweet voice sound whimpering, whining, begging, frantically whispering his name? Joel hoped you'd let him find out.

The rest of the games were uneventful - whenever you and Anne played, the two men were sure to talk your head off, teasing you and pointing out what you did wrong. Tommy and Anne stuck to their bickering, their mutual insults getting more playful and out-of-pocket with each shot they downed. Joel stuck with the physical approach, trying to make you understand what to do and when to do it... Which meant you learned absolute fucking shit, being too busy drooling over him. His palms grew more daring the more comfortable you seemed around him - he stopped drinking in the middle of the third billiard match, saying 'He's had 'nough for the night' - Tommy immediately rebutting 'You sure that's the reason?'. Once, you'd swear his palm patted your ass before you poked, making you hit the black ball into the pocket, letting you win the game. 'Thank me later, cutie', Joel murmured into your ear with a wicked grin.

Whenever the guys were on, seven people commented on their match simultaneously - you, Anne, and the five pops watching you play. Whoever they were, you like these old geezers - they were fun to be around. To avenge you, each of the elderly ensured Tommy and Joel wouldn't come out of the match unscathed. Drunk and satisfied, you left the pool table around eleven, shaking hands with the elderly folk who kept you company most of the night. Everyone except Joel was pissed by the time you rolled around the bar, ordering a shot of vodka each. Hell, you've been mixing so much you were sure you'd end up sleeping through the next day. However, it was easy to get pissed in such good company - Tommy kept on coming up with various jokes (hit-or-miss situation there, really), having Anna cackle at each of them (she was blackout drunk, you were pretty sure).

Joel, while not saying much, hadn't moved away from you since you left the pool table - whatever you did, whoever you talked to, the man was behind you. His eyes observed every gesture and expression with a warm gaze, smiling warmly... But not creepily. It was flattering, having the biggest stunner inside the club watching over you. Made you feel special. Regarding what Tommy said earlier (that Joel hadn't been this smitten with anyone in a long time), he wasn't lying - didn't happen since Joel's late wife Angela, actually. Frankly, he was just as in the dark as you were. It wasn't easy to name what had gotten into him, but all he knew was that you're the fire, and he's the moth. Each time you moved, the magnet within you made him follow. Each word was a syren's call, each look a glance into a paradise. Chemistry was the main reason why you two got along this well, that much Joel realized - however, the longer you'd been around, the more captivated he was becoming. Everything about you made him lose his mind; your mixed accents, tapping of your boot into the rhythm, shaky breaths escaping your mouth whenever his fingers ghosted over any part of your body. Each detail, even the easily missable, got him fascinated. You had him mesmerized, took his breath away, had his head in a chokehold. Just as you were at his mercy, he was at yours.

Anne and Joel stuck to the bar when you finally took the dancefloor by storm - whatever you and Tommy were up to, it didn't bore any similarity to actual dancing. It was nice, seeing you laugh so hard, tiptoeing on Tommy's shoes while he clumsily turned around, holding your frame impossibly close to his body. He wasn't trying to pull you or seduce you - it was just hard to dance for two people. "Yannow..." - Anne mumbled from her drink, still watching as you danced. It was almost midnight - the club was closing soon, so most of the fast, heavy-hitting pop got switched for slower country songs. Songs for heavily intoxicated couples. - "I don't think I've seen her actin' like this 'round anyone. And I've known her for 20 years by this point." "Tommy can be a real charmer when he wants to, you're right." - Joel admitted silently, sipping on his lemonade - the same lemonade you made fun of just five minutes earlier. Instead of a response, Anne snickered and shook her head lightly. "Ain't talkin' 'bout Tommy, and we both know that... Drop the fuckin' act." - The girl muttered, losing her balance for a bit - Joel was there to catch her, carefully helping her back onto the stool. He didn't answer, just hummed for Anne to continue.

"Promise you'll be nice to her. Whether it's for tonight or longer, just... Be nice to her. And if you won't be..." "Lemme guess, kiddo - you'll find me and cut my dick off, won't ya?" - Joel grinned, watching Anne teasingly. She smiled, shaking her head again; she liked Joel's sense of humor and demeanor - he seemed like a solid, trustworthy guy. Albeit selfish, but reliable enough to keep his word. "Somethin' like that but ten times worse. You don't wanna cross Anne Marie Jones." "Yes, ma'am." - Joel nodded, tipping his imaginary hat off while bowing a bit. - "I'll go for a dance. Wanna join?" - She nodded in agreement, reaching for Joel's hand in hopes not to slip and fall flat on her face.

"Almost five hours. 's a good score." "Of what? Five hours of..." "You pretendin' that you don't wanna dance." "Were you countin' this whole time? Strong-minded's what you are, my compliments." "Stop and go get her, tiger. Thomas!" - She shrieked, waving at Joel's younger brother, her face filled with excitement. The said younger brother carefully helped you step off his shoes, thanking you for the dances, even bowing just to amuse you. You needed a break - your tummy hurt from laughter, and you were sweaty and thirsty.

"'s my time to be on the bench, huh?" - You asked as Joel stepped closer to you, putting his hand on your waist. When his other hand joined, your eyes frantically searched for an explanation - the only thing you saw, however, was the warmth of his gaze. - "Thought you don't do dancin'." "Haven't done it in a fairly long time. 's time to switch things up." "You changin' the rules for once?" "Hmhm." - Joel could feel your fingers creeping on his arms - his exposed forearms, up to his shoulders before finally entwining behind his neck. Your nails gently scratched his skin, lightly enough not to leave marks, but intensely enough to leave a trail of tingling sensation behind - each inch of his skin you touched started burning, and his dick started growing hard and pleasantly warm in his pants. - "It's worth breakin' the rules when someone's worth it." "Am I worth it?" "Without a doubt in my mind."

No matter how drunk you were, your mind screamed that something was wrong there, that you should leave Joel at the dancefloor, call for a cab, and never look back - this man was a stunner in his best years, not old enough to have back pains and crackly knees but not young enough to be hot-blooded and wanting to fuck for the fun of it. You've seen the hot-blooded type in London a million times, and Joel was different. His demeanor, compared to theirs, was calm and collected. This man wasn't forcing you into anything that hadn't crossed your mind already - his kind smile and gentle touches made you relaxed, letting you realize how desperate you wanted this. How desperately you wanted him. The question still hadn't been answered - why you? Why not any of the beautiful women in the club? Women his age? There were a lot of them, one prettier than the other. Why was it you who had been blessed with the attention of this Adonis with gentle yet assuring touch, with tender, lazy (and also hot as fuck) smile, and watchful gaze?

"I'm a horrible dancer." - You weren't willing to disrupt the intimacy by asking questions - the answers haunted you more than the question itself. Licking your lips, you stepped closer, securing your arms around his neck. "Doesn't seem to me." "Have you seen how I danced with Tommy? Kicked his shin like twenty times." "'s what he deserves, wouldn't worry about it too much." "Doesn't solve the problem at hand." "I have a solution." - Joel mumbled, halting his moves. You were looking at him with an amused furrow, trying to figure out what he was up to - it didn't work, but at least you could carelessly stare at him, memorize each muscle of his face in case you'd never see him again. "Go to town, cowboy. Tell me."

It wasn't a matter of describing. Instead, Joel pushed a few strands of hair off your forehead and face, his eyes taking each detail in. Even though he had thick fingers, callused hands, and big hands, his touches were feather-light - if he hadn't been holding his other arm around your waist, you'd suspect he wasn't even real. All the couples around were still moving at a lazy, slow pace, cuddling as the slow song progressed, but your world froze for a bit. To let Joel know you trust him and want this, your palms started repeating the movements of his fingers - slowly dragging along his jaw, down his neck, to his chin, cupping the apple of his cheek, thumb dragging along the sweet spot under his eyes, putting his damp curls away from his forehead. "Still wanna lemme show you?" "Stop talking and thinking about it too hard, Joel." - Joel felt your weight shifting as you tiptoed, your breasts clashing with his chest as you pressed your body onto his - one of your elbows leaned into his shoulder, your fingers entangling in the hair at the back of his head.

You've been the one to kiss him - one palm grabbing his shirt, pulling him closer; the other still entangled in his hair pulling him away, giving the kiss the right edge. A mix of desperation, desire, and unsaid worries. While your lips mashed, his hands got to exploring - your shoulders, shoulder blades, your back, the small of it, and then, finally, that sweet, sweet fuckin' ass in the tightest piece of clothing he'd seen. He'd swear you're vibrating under his touch, lust getting the better of you - the kiss got rougher, teeth clashing, tongues entwining, lip biting, whining, and quiet moans escaping without either of you wanting them to...

It wasn't clean, but it definitely was the hottest fucking shit and the best kiss Joel had in the last few years. "How does... What does it have to with dancin'?" - You whispered into his ear after you pulled away, nesting your chin on his shoulder, clinging onto him as if he'd disappear if you'd let him go. Slowly, you started moving in the rhythm again, a pleasant male voice singing some kind of country ballad. It was lovely. "Nothin', little lady. Just a poor excuse to do what I've been waitin' for the whole night, 's all." "You damn rascal." "That a bad thing?" "I'm fond of men who make me laugh." - Your playful tone made Joel chuckle, the vibrations carrying onto your body. He gently pulled you closer, kissing your neck while humming at your smell - he'd remembered the scent of your perfume and shampoo, and it was nice, but mixed with alcohol, Tommy and Anne's cigarette smoke, and your musk was even better. You've smelled like a good night, like a lot of laughter, sinfully beautiful.

"Think it hadn't helped yet... The method 'f yours." "Strange, helps me every damn time." - Joel played along, letting you drop back to your heels just so he could look you in the eyes. Even though the club was humid, hot as all hell and the air smelled of alcohol, cigarette and weed smoke, sweat, and too many perfumes mixed into one, Joel missed the warmth and softness of your body the moment when your heels touched the ground, putting a few inches between your bodies. "Didn't sell me on it, anyway." "My apologies, ma'am. Anythin' I can do to remedy the situation?" "Think you should try it again." - You've had him mesmerized when you ogled at him like that - your expression and gaze were innocent, but your actions hinted at everything you've had on your mind. Your gentle hands slipping into the back pockets of his jeans solidified what you've alluded to and erased every doubt he had had in his mind.

"What if it won't work?" - Joel hummed, already pulling you back into his arms - his head was cocked to his shoulder, a wicked grin gracing his face. The man knew what question he was asking, his confidence boosting yours. "Think I have a thing or two on my mind, Texas." "Oh?" - He whispered, stealing a peck from you. - "Wanna share?" "'s better to show it to you." "Go on, little lady." "... Somewhere private." - You specified, losing focus for a bit. Something had caught your attention, making you smile as you started moving in the rhythm. - "I like this song. Give your method one more try, and then we can test mine?" "Your wish is my command."

Over the last few years, Joel forgot how fun it is to dance with someone - how exciting it feels when you twirl your girl around, to see her crack a smile as she comes back to his arms, kissing her like there was no tomorrow. He hadn't danced with anyone since Angela passed - thirteen fucking years. You, however, were a great choice of partner to break the streak of sitting at the bar, watching other couples snuggle and giggle, unaware of anything beyond their small little bubble. Neither of you were good dancers, per se, but that made it much more enjoyable. Joel was in his small bubble now, devoting his focus to you. Only you. Feeling you sway in the rhythm, clumsily stepping on the tips of his boots while holding to his shirt for your dear life, was the most endearing thing that happened to him recently. Even if you wouldn't meet again, he'd be grateful for this one night you've given him.

By the time the last chords of the song played (honkey-tonk banjo strumming), you'd been just like every other couple on the dancefloor - hastily stealing kisses, pressing your bodies impossibly close, tugging each other's hair, moaning and whining under your breath. You wouldn't expect this gruff cowboy man Joel to be vocal at all, but his groans actually made everything ten times better. "... Tell me it didn't work." - He muttered, roughly kneading your buttcheeks with his fingers, pressing your pelvis on his - you could feel the outline of his dick perfectly, your mouth watering. "Not in the slightest. I'm still a horrible dancer." "Thank fuckin' God." - His palm grasped yours as he turned on his heels, leading you deeper into the establishment. Joel was broad enough to make the way for both of you. He was making sure you were still following as if he couldn't feel your nails digging into his palm - he made sure a million times. His eyes periodically trailed between you and the space in front of him.

Once you entered the bathroom stall, everything got blurry - Joel's palms trailing your curves, his lips drowning in the skin of your neck, your palms holding onto his shoulders as he lowered on his knees. You wished you could take a picture of the view - Joel on his knees, one of his palms carefully lifting the hem of your t-shirt while he looked you in the eyes, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your abdomen while his other hand smoothed a trail on your upper thigh. Just as you expected, his palms were rough, full of calluses, and left a tingling sensation on your skin. Pressing his face to your abdomen and slowly getting back up, he pressed a kiss between your breasts before kissing the sweet spot on your neck again. Your breathing was irregular by the time his fingers curled around your chin.

"Are you sure you want this, little lady?" - He was purring into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and playfully nibbling on it - the reason you were still standing was clearly that he pinned you between the door and his body... Palming your hot, wet sex teasingly, applying just the right amount of pleasure at the place you needed him the most. - "I don't plan on makin' you do somethin' you'd regret later. We clear?" "Joel... Please, for the love of God, shut the fuck up." - That's all you could muster - your body begged to feel his lips, for your hands to explore everything that's been hiding under that neatly tucked shirt and perfectly fitted jeans - you could see the outline of his dick, hard as a rock, but you wanted more. You wished to look at it, have it in your mouth, swallow it whole, or gag on it, whatever he'd like. The arousal building at your center made you forget words. When you tried to kiss him, he tsk-tsked you away, applying more pressure on your clit.

"Just say the words and it's all yours, pretty girl." "Remember how I said you're a rascal?" - You whispered, grinding against his palm gently. - "You're just a... Mhm... Shit... Fucking dick." "Such an eager little thing, aren't ya?" - Joel grinned, kissing the apple of your cheek, leaving his hand in place. You seemed to be horny enough not to need his help with your endeavors - all you needed was his fucking palm.

But Joel wanted more - he needed to hear you also want it. He needed permission before destroying you, fucking your silly little head empty. He could, however, also sense the reason for your hesitancy. What was he? Just a random guy at a club pulling a chick just to fuck her at the stalls and never see her again. Understandable. Because of that, he'd been willing to give you a bit of assurance. - "C'mon, be a good girl. Use your words." "Will you spank me if I misbehave?" "If a good ol' spankin''s whatcha after... We can talk 'bout it on a date." "A date?" - Your eyes lit up, your motions stopping for a bit - to keep you occupied, Joel started applying pressure with his fingers, having you staring at him with your mouth agape. You looked... So damn hot. - "Are you serious, Texas? You want to take me out?" "Mhm, of course, little lady. You'll gimme your phone number, and I'll give you mine. You'll set the date, and I pick out the restaurant. My treat, 'f course. There, you can tell me all you want 'bout spanking that cute ass 'f yours. Sounds good?"

He was... Serious. There was a cocky smile on his lips as he watched you, but he was asking you out. No buts or ifs. No games. It took you a moment to process his proposition - his fingers lazily circling around your clit were making it fucking hard to think. "I'd... I'd love that, cowboy." "Good girl." - Joel cooed, carefully pulling strands of hair out of your eyes with his other palm, leaning his arm to the door behind you. - "What do you want me to do now?" "Everything." - You whispered, stealing a peck from his lips. - "I wanna take everything you're willing to offer. I want this, I want you, wanna feel your lips on me, your dick inside me, fuckin' Christ, I want everything."

That was all Joel needed to hear, the words to set him in motion. His hands gently cupped your head as he kissed you with passion, his mouth devouring each inch he'd kiss, his teeth gently sinking into your skin - just enough to let you feel it, but not enough to hurt you. Not caring about the tent in his jeans, he'd started lowering on his knees again, pulling your t-shirt off your body just so he could hungrily stare at your tits rising and falling with each labored breath. He couldn't but palm them, squeezing them gently. Not wasting more time, he got back to work - worshipping each inch of your skin with his palms, leaving a trail of wet kisses from your chest to your abdomen, stopping above your shorts. He didn't look at what his fingers were doing - Joel simply continued undoing the zipper and button, staring you in the eyes. His right thumb slipped on your clothed clit, having your body react immediately - shuddering, moaning upon the sensation. This wouldn't fly - you could be kicked out if you wouldn't be careful. He wished to listen to those sweet sounds, but...

"Can you somethin' for me?" "Mhm?" - You let out in response, your eyes already darkened with lust. Just a few more beats and Joel would send you heaven, he swore to himself - he started taking his flannel shirt off frantically, handing it over to you. "Bite on it, honey. We don't wanna everyone hearin' how good I make you feel, do we?" "No." - Doing as he asked you, you buried your entire face in his shirt - it smelled just like him, the discovery making you whimper. Lost in the moment, you barely noticed your panties and shorts being removed - before you grasped it, Joel was already filling the newly discovered territory with his face, spreading your thighs far apart.

Under different circumstances, Joel would be delighted to play with you - tease you, let you tiptoe on the edge of paradise before allowing you to drown in all the pleasure, pushing you towards the cliff's edge - you two, sadly, didn't have enough time. You weren't splayed over his bed, your arousal wasn't staining the sheets, and he couldn't let you scream at the top of your lungs before you'd squeeze his head with your thighs. Secondly, he was too fucking horny to hold back. Working you up with his mouth, he untangled your ankle out of your panties, throwing your leg over his shoulder - allowing himself to push as deep as possible in such conditions. His tongue collected each drop of arousal, warm pain setting in his jaw as he did his best to lick your slit clean, just like a plate of his favorite dish.

After he made sure you won't fall down, Joel put his lips to good use (sucking on your clit), and his palm started discovering the valley further below, spreading your folds teasingly. You noticed his finger slowly entering you, digit after digit - his fingers were wider and rougher than yours, filling you up better than yours ever could. Trying to muffle a loud moan, your face disappeared in the fabric of his shirt, your chest heaving as you gasped for air. Joel loved having your fingers tangled in his hair - lost to the moment, you couldn't care less about how violently you're tugging on it, each tug getting a guttural growl out of him. The sounds echoed through you, reaching into all parts of your body, pushing you over the edge.

You couldn't name what precisely caused your orgasm to approach so fucking fast - you were under the impression that usually, it took way longer for you to come. Could be anything - his smell all up your nose, his tongue flickering on your sensitive cluster of nerves at an impressive speed, his palm holding onto your thighs, or two (maybe three) fingers curling inside you. Probably everything combined. The next thing you realized was that you mumbled his name like a prayer, riding through your high on his face, trying to catch your breath as you leaned your head into the door, eyes closed, Joel religiously watching and memorizing how you liked like when you came undone. You were beautiful.

"You good?" - Joel asked after your thighs relaxed and let go of his head. His voice was raspy. It took him a bit to pick himself up (his knees went numb), but soon, he was there to steal a kiss from you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Your flushed, relaxed expression was adorable - he hadn't had a woman looking at him this way in a long time. Your eyes were open lazily (offering him a tender look), your smile hinting at all the bliss circulating in your blood. "Never better, sugar." "Don't think anyone called me that before." "You like it?" - You asked, playing with the hem of his gray t-shirt, caressing his abdomen, his flannel shirt still hanging off your palm. "Gets me all railed up." - With a grin, Joel approached you, picking your leg up to circle it around his waist. The jeans felt cold against your burning and sensitive core, the rough material putting a strange edge into Joel's pelvis grinding against yours at a lazy, teasing pace. - "You want this too, baby? Think you can take it?" "I want everything."

"Okay." - He hummed, trailing his fingers along your shoulders, brushing lips over your jaw and lips. Before you knew it, his palm crept back between your thighs, his fingers sliding inside you, working you up to relax you and get the arousal going. - "How do you want it? Should I sit down? If you wanna, I can get deeper if you bend forward. C'mon, be a good girl and use your words." "Just... I want... Fuck." - Not being able to put a single sentence together, you shushed his palm and godly fingers away. Bracing yourself, you leaned into the door comfortably, shaking your ass a bit to tease him. Joel didn't hesitate to play along, slapping it to see the tender, soft skin jiggling. It didn't escape him how you almost purred, whimpering from the friction. He was half-sure you joked about the spanking bit, but seeing you get off on it put a childish grin on his face.

Before he undid his belt (your head was turned to him the entire time, hungrily watching each move), he'd pulled his wallet from one of the pockets, pulling a condom out. Biting on the aluminum packaging gently, Joel threw his wallet away carelessly, feverishly undoing his jeans before pushing the pants and underwear down to his knees. His dick sprang free, having you hypnotized while Joel put the condom on - you'd swear you hadn't seen a nicer-looking dick in your lifetime, not even in porn movies you watched. It was decently long, pre-cum leaking from the tip, with few veins giving it a nice texture. What put a slight frown on your face was the width of it. It was girthy, for the lack of a better term, massive, to say the least. The challenge excited you, giving you more reasons to take him balls deep. Moan escaped your mouth upon that thought.

"Oh, I know, baby girl." - Joel whispered, stepping closer to you, kneading your cheeks like dough - digging his fingers in one moment, lovingly squeezing them in the other. - "I'll take care of everythin', I promise. Just relax for me." "Okay, sugar." - Complying, you tried your best to relax when he ran his palms down your back, massaging soothing circles into your skin. Hearing the nickname, Joel snickered under his breath. "You gonna me drive up the fuckin' wall if you keep that nickname up."

You started to turn your head in Joel's direction to reply, but before you could do so, the tip of his dick slipped inside you - the burning sensation had you banging your first against the door, opening your mouth, eyes closed firmly, chest heaving as you adjusted to him. It wasn't unpleasant - it was just unusual - you hadn't had sex ever since that 'British stud of yours' as Anne dubbed Felix. And any toys couldn't do Joel's dick any justice. "All good, little lady?" "Mhm, never better." - Nodding, you took a long breath before lowering yourself down on his shaft, feeling it stretching you out inch by inch. There weren't many things that would make Joel Miller speechless, but watching you sliding down while his hands held your hips, hearing you muffle your whines and moans was pure fucking magic. The closer your ass got to his base, the harder it was to breathe for him.

"Look at you, sweetheart." - Joel cooed, closing the remaining gap between your bodies - the tip of his cock brushed your cervix, making you gulp. The man didn't move for a solid minute, letting you relax and adjust, rubbing soothing circles into your hips. - "This would make a man lose his damn mind, Jesus fuckin' Christ. You're doin' so fuckin' well for me." "That dick would make any woman lose their mind too, Texas." - Saying that, you giggled, unintentionally tightening around him - Joel's hips buckled in response, making you whine happily. - "You can move, yannow that? I ain't made of glass." "Promise to tell me it'd get uncomfortable for you, yeah?" - The man asked, kissing your shoulder. Nodding, you lazily smiled at him. "Promise."

In a few thrusts, you could perfectly understand why Joel promised he'd stop if things got uncomfortable for you - he struggled to find his tempo, sloppily thrusting in and out of you in unforgiving, needy movements. But as soon as he found his footing? His movements became determined and precise, each trust stretching your tight walls gently, almost lovingly. He was gripping your hips, the nailbeds digging into your smooth, gentle skin - so tightly that you'd swear you'd have small remnants of him with you in the morning. Anytime he felt like it, he'd make you meet his dick halfway, breathlessly snickering at your ecstatic expression. You both mumbled nonsense, motivating each other to keep going, movements growing desperate as you started chasing your highs. Without Joel needing to mutter a word, your palm sneaked to your clit, your fingers rubbing frantic get gentle circles around the bundle of nerves.

"'M gonna... 'M gonna..." - Joel muttered religiously, palming one of your breasts to gently play with your nipple. "Just a bit longer, and I'm... Fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel." - It came across as a pathetic whine - the tip of his dick brushing against the most sensitive spot inside you. The burst of warmth and pleasure made you shudder, meowling to your forearm as you tried to keep your shit together. "Ya with me?" - Joel pressed on, his brain barely capable of making meaningful sentences. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes." - As he brushed the spot again, a mind-numbing orgasm washed over you. For a moment, you didn't know who the fuck you were, what your name was, where you were, or whom you were with. All you could feel was concentrated pleasure washing over your body, leaving you whining and moaning into the fabric of his shirt before letting it fall to the ground. Joel's last trusts were sloppy, almost too brutal, but soon, he was grunting as his load leaked into the condom.

"Jesus." - He muttered, gently slipping out - the emptiness hit you like a truck, almost leaving you begging for more. You'd beg if you could form any word on your tongue. - "How we doin', little lady? All parts where they should be?" - He whispered, gently helping you to stand up as he pulled your underwear and shorts back where they belonged. If you'd let him, he'd memorize how you looked - sweaty, breathing irregularly with a contained expression. Every inch of your skin was a masterpiece Joel'd carve into wood just to have it always with him. Fucking on a bathroom stall, however, wasn't the right place or time to ask for some lovey-dovey nonsense.

"You some kind of mechanic or what? I'm good, don't worry 'bout me. Gave me exactly what I wanted." "There she is, the sassy little sweetheart I couldn't get 'nough of. And... Somethin' like that. I'm a carpenter." - Joel explained, ensuring you looked somewhat presentable. It wouldn't be gentlemanly to let you walk around looking like a cute, freshly fucked mess - no matter how much this idea aroused him, letting all the men who eyed you over the night know that he was the one you chose to have the time of your day with. Instead of answering, you started laughing, catching him off-guard. - "What's funny 'bout me bein' a carpenter, hm?" "Nothin', nothin'." - You whispered, shushing his palms away to control your make-up. Well, it was decently smudged but still presentable. With how Anne looked before you and Joel took an abrupt detour to the stalls, you'd be soon on your way home anyway. - "I'll be working for a carpenter, starting fairly soon. It's just a funny coincidence, 's all."

"I see. He's a lucky man, then." - Joel hummed, caressing the apple of your cheek with his fingers before letting you steal a peck from you. - "If you'd be workin' for me, I wouldn't keep my fuckin' hands off you, sweet girl. You tell him you have another carpenter in town who wouldn't waste a second hirin' you, yeah?" "You don't mean that. That's the sex talkin'." "On my honor. If he won't treat you respectfully, yannow who to call. I can always use some help." - Teasingly slapping your ass, Joel picked his shirt and wallet off the ground, adjusting his belt and jeans. - "There's the business card, you call this number, yeah? The second one. The first one's for my office. And as a promise, you take this with ya." - Carefully, he tugged you into the shirt, smoothing your upper arms. - "'s my lucky shirt. I never go out in anythin' else. You better keep an eye out." "This gets the ladies going?" - Was what you replied, pushing your arms through the sleeves and buttoning up the lower half of the shirt. Ensuring you won't lose the card, you pushed it inside your phone case, showing it to Joel. "It got you goin', didn't it?" "Was that bloody smirk 'f yours, asshole." "Never been turned on by anyone callin' me an asshole. Whatcha doin' to me, girl? You ready to go?" - The lock was undone, and as a gesture of gratitude (and another promise), Joel offered you his palm to hold onto. To your surprise, he let you entwine your fingers with him without protesting. "Yeah. Let's go."

Thankfully, when you walked back onto the humid, heavy-aired club, Tommy and Anne were still dancing - both appeared heavily intoxicated, holding each other tightly, dancing to a sweet serenade. That, thankfully, meant no questioning for either you or Joel. As you also predicted, Anne wanted to go home when she spotted you hanging out by the bar.

Joel and Tommy helped you find a taxi, settling Anne down in the backseat - it was raining heavily, all of you jogging to the car with laughter. The night started to get cold. It was time to go home, lulled by the prospect of a date - the man in question was just pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing your temple, whispering sweet nothings and goodbyes to your ear. Tommy, even though he was usually as perceptive as a stomp, left you alone and moved to smoke under a nearby umbrella, grinning from ear to ear as he watched you being all cheesy and lovey-dovey - he knew better than to mutter a word. Joel'd definitely fire back at him.

"Here's the money for the ride, tip included. Take 'em wherever they want to, the rest's yours." - Joel leaned into the cab, handing the driver a hefty bill while patting the roof - what a typical gesture. Staring at him in shock, you shook your head in disapproval - Anne pointed at him with a drunkard giggle. "I'm startin' to like your grumpy Texan ass more 'n more." "What a compliment." - Joel answered with pure irony. - "Take care, ladies. Text me when you get home, 'kay, sweetheart?" "Will do, sir. But betcha ass we'll be discussing this later." - Vaguely pointing to the driver, you spared Joel one last smile before the cab took off, driving you home. - "Take care!" - You cried out, watching his figure disappear in the distance.

Getting Anne to your room without waking up the whole block was a superhuman task - she'd trip over nothing, kept on shushing you (even though you hadn't said a word), giggling under her breath as she tried to keep her balance. You expected Mom to bust in at any minute, but only Sam inspected the ruckus. "Jesus fuckin' Christ." - The girl muttered, rubbing her eyes sleepily. The sight was hilarious, you needed to admit - Anne was sitting on the edge of your bed, rocking from side to side while attempting to take off her shoes. Her tongue, as usual, was sticking out of the corner of her mouth with pure concentration. - "I take it that the night was good?" "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. Go to sleep now, yeah?" - Smoothing her shoulder, you watched as Sammy nodded sleepily and started retreating toward her room.

Before going to sleep, you made sure Anne's clothes were hung enough to dry out before she departed after tomorrow's dinner, and that her hair was neatly covered with a towel. As promised, before hitting the sack, you sent Joel a short text to let him know you're both safe at home, wishing him a good night. The night was something - sex with Joel helped you sober up, and thanks to Anne's overwhelming, unmissable snoring, you took one hell of a time to fall asleep. While Anne was knocked out in an instant, you had to roll around for quite some time before you finally fell asleep - dreaming of Joel, his big hands, honest smiles, and passionate kisses.

"Are you fuckin' with me? That happened? And it was that good?" - Anne squealed, pushing half a waffle inside her mouth. Her appetite (despite the hangover she must've had) always surprised you. Nobody should be this hungry after digesting such an ungodly amount of alcohol... Nobody. Sam, responsible for bringing you a very late breakfast to bed, had her eyes glued to your lips, listening to how you described what had happened in the bathroom stalls. - "... Didn't even notice you two were gone." "No wonder. You two were fucking out of it. They were wobbling around to Long Long Time by the time we got back, both sobbing their asses off." "Uh-uh, that didn't fuckin' happen. Don't believe a word comin' out of this wench's mouth, Sammy." "In all fairness, it's a solid song." - Sam reiterated, having Anne snapping, humming approvingly. "Amen, sister. Girl knows her stuff."

"Back to the guy. So you texted him goodnight? As he asked?" - Sam pried further, laying down as she stared at you. "Mhmh." "Had he replied?" "Yes." "WHAT DID HE-?" - Anne squealed even louder, earning an elbow to her side. Rubbing the spot, she looked at you. - "Bitch, you hadn't told me he actually reached back out. What did the super hot, hunky, gruff cowboy say? Spill it." "Well, he wished me a good morning for starters, unlike someone..." - Alluding to how Anne's first sentence consisted of 'Girl, I don't know if it's gonna come outta my mouth or ass first, so you better move' and keeping the duo tensed up, a smile spread on your lips. - "He started asking when I was free but told me he couldn't go out today because of this dinner with his best buddy. So... I have a date tomorrow." "You're shitting me!" - Anne muttered, giggling her ass off. "Dude, keep it the fuck down. I don't wanna explain this to my mom." "Yeah, yeah, whatever. What's your take on the situation, young padawan?" - Without sparing you a look, Anne just waved you off and pointed her fork in Sam's direction.

"He sounds like a genuinely great guy. A bit of an age difference? No prob, sis. On the other hand, if you'd bring home an eighty-year-old gramps with diapers and prescribed meds..." "Samantha!" - Gasping for air, you threw a strawberry her way - grinning from ear to ear, Sam caught in on her first try. - "'s that what you think of me? Thank you kindly. That's so fucked up." "You asked me a question, and I gave you an answer. Grow up. But no cap - you're glowing just talking about the guy. You're all flustered, giggly, playing with your hair and... It's nice to see you like that." "She ain't wrong... She ain't wrong at all."

Dinner preparations consisted of pure chaos - Fleetwood Mac's biggest hits playing out of your dad's stereo as you helped around the kitchen, Anne occasionally dipping to comment on the baseball game your dad watched in the living room. The entire house was pristine, not a dust particle in sight as if the Queen of England was about to drop for a visit. Your mom pulled out her best decorations and fanciest set of plates, asking you to decorate them with napkins. Sam was with you the entire time, carefully watching your moves as if you weren't real - even giving in to dance with you to Dreams, both laughing as you clumsily wobbled around the dining room.

When it was around 4pm, you all hid in Sam's room to make yourselves look presentable - Sammy opted for a cutesy wollen vest, a short-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. With her hair styled in a high ponytail, she looked genuinely cutesy. Anne borrowed one of the fancy dresses you used to wear for work, pairing it with her pair of good ol' trusty pair of Vans - as per usual, Anne would've looked hot as fuck even if she'd worn a potato bag. You opted for a more casual, relaxed fit. You dug out a flowy black dress with polka dots all over it, choosing a relaxed hairstyle and light layer of make-up to go with it. You assumed you didn't have to sit around dressed like you were waiting for a job interview since the guy was your dad's best friend.

"They're here!" - Mom cried out over the music blasting in the living room - your dad changed it to good ol' Bruce Spingsteen's Born in the U.S.A. "Aight, how do I look?" - You asked, twirling around to let both the girls see - you wanted to leave a good first impression on your soon-to-be employer and a trusted family friend, as well as on his brother. "You're looking good. I've told you a million times already - Joel doesn't make a fuss about such things. I've worked for him for a year and a half, so I'd be the one to know." - Sam muttered, rolling her eyes. She'd spent the last hour assuring you looked amazing and impressionable, that was much true. - "Just come already, Jesus. You'll relax once you see him." - With that, she started descending the stairs, loudly greeting the guests.

"Like a snack." - Anne suggested, having you shaking your head. "Not the time..." "What if he's like... Smoking hot?" "He's also my dad's best friend. No way in hell..." "Never say never." "That's why I usually don't ask for your fucking input, Anne." "Chill, girl, you got this. Take a breath, shake the nerves off... You look fucking amazing, and you're way smarter than... Oh... Oh, fuck." - She was standing on top of the stairs, her palm clutching the railing until her knuckles turned white. All emotion suddenly drained from her expression, her face growing pale, and her eyes widened at the sight. Slowly, you peeked around the corner, your eyes meeting the strangers immediately.

What if he was smoking hot, huh? Well, you knew for a fact he was. Those lips were kissing you yesterday. Those palms chalked up the cue for you, teasing you how to play billiard without getting a cramp in your palm. These eyes watched you as if you were the only woman in the club, following each step you took, his palm never shying away from grasping the small of your back. You saw him undress for you. You felt him pounding into you when he chased his release. You listened to his voice pouring sweet nothings and perverted, arousing nonsense into your ears as he fucked you. You had his number saved in his phone. You had a date set with him. It was Joel. Joel, the mysterious hunky gruff cowboy. Joel, who was staring back at you with the same horror in his eyes. Joel, who was your dad's best fucking friend.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck indeed.

Thank you for reading! 🩷 Reblogs and comments are appreciated; in case you have any questions or scenarios you'd like to see, hmu in dms or under the post. 🩷 Have a nice day!

#dbf!joel #dbf!joel x afab!reader #joel miller #joel the last of us #tommy miller #tommy miller the last of us #well boys #here we fucking go #the cat's out of the bag #everything's doom and gloom #also I love writing for tommy #he's so fun to play around with #smutty smut smut #dbf!joel brainrot be too strong for my sorry lil ass #like lord help me #this man is too much for me

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joelhoney · 1 year ago

Text

#1 girl

pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader

kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!

You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all

Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.

The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.

For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.

Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.

The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.

Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.

“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.

“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”

“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.

Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.

Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.

It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.

“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.

“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”

“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads.

“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.

“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.”

You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.

The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—

“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.

It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.

You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.

“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”

“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”

“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”

You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.

“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?”

“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”

“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”

“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past.

“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. “I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”

Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”

“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”

“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”

“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”

“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.

You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.

“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”

Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”

You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.”

“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.

“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.

“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.

“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.

You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.

Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages.

But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately.

“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.

Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.

“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.

You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.

“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”

“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts.

“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous.

He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”

“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”

At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”

He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”

“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”

The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”

He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”

But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.

“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained.

“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.

“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”

“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”

His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.

“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”

He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.

“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”

Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.

“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.

“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.

“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.

You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.

He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.

Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.

His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom.

Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on.

“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.

“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his.

“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”

You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”

So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight.

You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.

“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—”

“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”

He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.

“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.

“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”

Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.

“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him.

“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.

“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice small.

“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise—he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”

You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”

“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”

“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”

Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.”

A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.

“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”

You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts. The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.

He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.

You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”

He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.

“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.

“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.

Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.

“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”

“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”

“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.

He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.

“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.

“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.

“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”

“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever.

“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”

“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”

You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.

You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”

#dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou #the last of us #tlou x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #pedro pascal x reader #tlou smut

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magpiepills · 7 months ago

Text

Into The Deep End

Rating: EXPLICIT! 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller: Hole Filler x AFAB reader

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: you and your friend are invited to swim at the home of her boyfriend’s friend.

Warnings: PIV, dirty talk, little size kink, age gap, swimming, girls kissing girls, multiple orgasms, creampie, drug and alcohol use. no use of y/n, no outbreak, no Sarah, plus perhaps others.

A word for the author: this is a repost! well this isn’t the DBF I had planned. He wasn’t cooperating, so instead you get Best Friend’s Boyfriend’s Buddy Joel and his big dick. The important thing is that we have Joel and we have him in a timely manner!

Kim hadn’t shut up about her boyfriends neighbor all week. “He’s sooo good looking. If it wasn’t for Matt, I’d be all over him. Maybe I’ll be all over him anyway, Matt likes it when I flirt!”

“Isn’t he like, fifty though?” You frown, not looking up from your magazine.

“Nah, he’s forty, tops. Does it matter though? He’s gorgeous. Wait until you see him.”

You were skeptical. It seemed weird for an older guy to invite some college kids to hang out and swim in his pool. You needed some excitement and distraction in your life, though. College had been rough. Classes were grueling and your own boyfriend had unceremoniously dumped you right before finals. It was a killer blow.

“Whats his name? Josh? Jared? Is he really ok with us using his pool?”

“It’s Joel. And he said we can come over any time. He lives alone and he’s always been like a big brother to Matt. Plus he’s so chill. He always has weed, he’s not creepy, he’s fun. You’ll love him. I told him all about you and he seemed really interested in meeting you.”

“Kim!” You admonished and swatted her with your magazine. “Do not try anything with this guy. I don’t need to be set up with an old guy!”

“Just wait until you see him. You’ll thank me.”

And she was right. On Saturday afternoon you and Kim met Matt at Joel’s house. The guys were already in the back yard, music playing, cooler full of beer by the back door, floats in the pool. Kim ran to Matt, and he lifted her into a hug, one hand squeezing her ass in a wide grip. You sat down the bag holding your towel, sunscreen, and tshirt, and said hello to the astoundingly attractive man sitting at the patio table.

“You must be Joel. Thanks for letting us use your pool.”

“Don’t mention it. Matt told me you girls are home for the summer, so feel free to come by any time and swim. Beer?” He gestured at the cooler.

“Please!” You accepted his offer gratefully and watched him press the cap into his big palm and twist it off. Kim was right, he’s gorgeous. Tall and tan, with silver just beginning to thread through his dark, messy hair and dark brown eyes. He had a broad chest and shoulders. You took the beer and sipped, and eyed him as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a slightly soft belly and a trail of dark hair leading under his light blue trunks. Dear god you thought, a giddy feeling welling up inside you with an urge to run your hands over his skin. You felt like such a creep. You imagined touching him and smelling him, laying your head on his chest, biting his shoulder.

“Come in with me!” Kim’s call snapped you out of your thoughts, and you grabbed your towel, spreading it on the concrete. The water was warm, and it felt good to float and splash around a while. A game of chicken was suggested and abandoned, in favor of a round of shots, and you felt a little disappointed that you wouldn’t get to sit on Joel’s shoulders. You’d have to find another way to get your legs around him.

You got out of the pool, toweled off, and rummaged through our bag until you found your sunscreen. Perched on the patio chair, you slathered your arms and shoulders with Hawaiian tropic, and glanced up at Joel, catching his gaze for a fraction of a second before his eyes darted away. He could pretend he wasn’t watching you rub sunscreen on your chest all he wanted.

Kim swam near you and put her arms about your waist, leaning close to whisper in your ear “He’s hot, right? Are you sorry you doubted me?” “So sorry, Kim, I’m going to fuck him, I swear to god.” You said it with a laugh, but you kind of meant it.

After a few more drinks you were feeling bold, you and Kim were getting handsy with each other, a familiar intimacy shared by best friends, but something the two of you’d wielded more than once to draw the gaze of the boys you wanted to tease. Matt was happy to watch, and Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you and Kim, squeezing each other's hips and casually tugging at each other's bikini tops, dragging fingertips along the edge of the triangles over your breasts, whispering and giggling and all but kissing. “Here we go!” You could hear Matt whoop, finally noticing what you and Kim were doing. You saw Joel shifting down in his seat, adjusting his trunks as inconspicuously as he could, but you knew what he was doing. Your eyes met his and you gave him the smallest smile before turning back to Kim and whispering to her again. The beers you’d drank and the raw attraction you felt for Joel were mixing together low in your stomach and your inhibition was quickly dissolving.

Matt had had enough and jumped into the water, wrapping his arms around you and Kim and making lewd jokes about threesomes that had you giggling and blushing. He had seen enough of you and Kim’s shenanigans to know that it wasn’t going to happen and he eventually pulled your bestie away to the shallow end to make out, leaving you alone. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, and as you tried to decide what to do next, you felt a splash on your shoulder. Joel had came and sat on the edge of the pool, looking down at you and smiling his open, warm smile before slipping in beside you.

“Are you and her and him a thing?” He asked, sounding awestruck that such a thing could happen in his own pool.

“No, just friends. I’ve known Kim for ages, we like to goof around.”

“I never goofed around with my friends like that. What’s your boyfriend think?” There it was.

“No boyfriend. Just all by my lonesome. What about you? Is your girlfriend out with her girlfriend?”

“Damn. I wish. But no, no girlfriend to speak of.”

With that you let him watch as you slowly looked him over, nibbling flirtatiously at your lip, not knowing how you wanted him to respond. He smiled and in better light you might be able to see him blush.

“‘Nother beer?”

“Why not?”

You followed him out of the pool, he got out first, then turned to offer you a hand to pull yourself up. A big, wide, strong, warm hand. Back at the table you sat closer to him, sipping your beer and twisting lazily in the comfy spinning chair.

You chatted for a while, about movies you’d seen, music you liked, books you’ve read, finding you had a lot of things in common. The longer you talked, the closer together you got until your legs were across his lap and he was gently stroking your calves.

Kim and Matt were asleep on a lounge chair, and you really should have woken them up to go home, them in his bed, you on the couch, but instead, you and Joel just looked at them for a moment, and he asked if you wanted to watch a movie.

“It’s not that late, they’ll probably get up soon and want to leave.” He reasoned and you didn’t have an argument.

You just followed him through the sliding patio door, past a sparse but clean kitchen, and onto an ugly sofa that was more comfortable than your own bed.

You groaned when you sank into it, tucking your legs under you. You had slipped on your tshirt, but your now dry bikini was still underneath. Joel’s house was dark and cool inside, the only light coming from the light over the stove in the kitchen and the tv.

Joel put on Night of the Living Dead and came back to the couch with a blanket, tossing it over you. You noticed he had changed into soft looking plaid pajama pants and a gray shirt, smelling like a mix of fabric softener and chlorine. He propped his feet on the coffee table and started the movie.

“It’s ok if you get scared. I won’t tell anybody if you hide your eyes.” He teased.

You told him how you loved scary movies, even though they terrified you.

When the first vaguely gruesome scene came on you pulled the blanket over your face. Joel pulled you against his side with a sigh.

“I’ll tell you when it’s over.” His arm stayed around you though, and you lifted the blanket so he could get under too.

It wasn’t long before your legs were back in his lap and he watched you while you watched the movie.

“This isn’t even that scary. They’re too slow.”

Maybe you were just lulled into comfort by Joel’s presence and warmth, and the way he stroked his thumb up and down your shin, squeezed your ankle gently, massaged your calf…

“Slow’s good.”

His voice was a little deeper, and he was a little closer and you didn’t move away. You turned your head and looked at him, gazing down at you, messy hair and soft eyes.

“Yeah. Maybe slow’s not bad.”

He hummed and brushed his nose against yours.

Your lips met slowly, sliding to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, warm and soft, and his hand on your shin moved up to your knee, up to your thigh, to your hip, where he found the little bow of your bikini bottom and you could feel him smile against your lips .

“Been wanting to do this all day. Ever since I saw you walk in.”

You were surely blushing now. “You should have. All I heard about all day was how good looking you are.”

Joel sat up a little straighter and lifted his eyebrows at that. “Oh yeah? Did I disappoint ya?” He asked while you leaned forward so he could tug your t-shirt over your head.

“When we were in the pool I told Kim I was going to fuck you.”

Your admission stopped him in his tracks, stunned and mouth agape.

“Jesus, you’ve got a mouth on you.”

And you couldn’t stop yourself then. “Mhm. I can show you my mouth.”

Not your sexiest line, but it had the intended effect. Joel was looking at you like he wasn’t sure you were real.

“Come here.” He pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him, only your bikini and his pajama pants separating you now, you could feel him, hard and huge.

You circled your hips, making him groan as he kissed you deeply, tongues meeting and swirling gently before he kissed a path down your neck, across your collarbone, and down between your breasts before l pressing a kiss to each one. He slid his hands up your sides as he kissed, and toyed with the thin material of your top before dipping two thick fingers under the fabric and pulling it to the side. He kissed the swell of your breast before licking the firm peak, and sucking it into his warm mouth. Everything about Joel was so soft and warm and comfortable.

“Let me take this off.” He said with his fingers already pulling at the strings tied at the back of your neck. It wasn’t a request, really. He was needy. You quickly untied the strings at your back and flung the whole thing over your shoulder.

He sat back, mesmerized by your tits. He stared, wide-eyed for a moment before cupping both breasts, lifting and squeezing them, kissing and licking your pebbles nipples as he tilted his hips to grind his cock against your covered pussy.

You ran your fingers through his hair, met each movement, surely leaving a wet spot between you, and when you couldn’t take it any more, you reached down and pulled the string on either side of your hips.

“Fuck. Are you going to let me do this?”

You bit your bottom lip, looked at him through your eyelashes and nodded. “You want to fuck me Joel?”

He moved fast, grabbing the fabric out from under you and slinging it away and wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you against his chest while he used his other hand to cover your pussy, the heat of his palm radiating up through your core, sliding his fingers forward and back to gather your slick and spread it through your folds and over your clit.

“You’re so wet. You get wet for me? Like feeling this big cock? This what you need to fill you up?” He lifted his hips to press his cock against your mound, making you moan into his neck.

“Yes. Yes Joel, please.”

Neither of you were going to be able to hold out much longer. You wanted to tease each other, but you needed him inside you.

He lifted his hips again, shimmying down his pants and boxers as quickly as he could. Finally freed, he arranged you on his lap, his cock resting on the curve of your ass, so close to where you needed him.

“You on the pill or somethin’?” He asked as he ran his fingers over your folds again, making you tilt your hips to chase his touch, then stroking his cock with your arousal.

“Yeah. I’m good, got an iud.”

“Good, cause I’m not pullin’ out.” He said, as he positioned his thick head at your entrance and pulled you downward to meet his thrust.

The pinch was extraordinary, but melted out into a warmth that made him feel destined to be inside you. The two of you set a rhythm, you grinding down and him thrusting up, slow and deep, and wet, letting your clit roll against him. Your orgasm crept up, hot and tight in your belly, and he could feel you on the edge of release.

“Want to feel you come on my cock. Squeezin me so tight, feel you soaking me.” He babbled at you and took your nipple back into his mouth, grunting lewdly as he sucked.

It was so much. So many sensations, his mouth, his cock, his hands, his heat, his voice, they crashed over you like a tidal wave.

Joel watched, rapt as you rode it out on his lap, loving how you used his body for your own pleasure, loving how you responded to him, how you took him.

You came back to him with a kiss, blissed out, feeling floaty.

“Fuck, that was good.” You purred to him, no plan to ever leave his lap.

“Gotta fuck you, sweetheart. Y’feel too good.” He throbbed inside you, setting off a small aftershock.

Leaning back, bracing yourself on his knees, you rode him slowly, swiveling your hips, tits on display for him, giving him a good look at where he entered you, and of the thick white ring around the base of his turgid member.

The room spun when Joel flipped you onto the couch. He knelt between your knees, jerking himself at the sight of your swollen pussy, your flushed chest, your kiss-reddened lips.

In a final sprint toward his own finish, Joel pulled your hips up against his, buried himself deep and complete in your wet pussy, and set an unrelenting pace. No words were left except his chanting Fuck, fuck, oh fuck. Oh shit baby. Fuck! Accompanied by your whining, your begging for his cum. You didn’t need to wait long for your reward, although you think you gladly spend the rest of your life stretched around his cock.

He broke with three final thrusts, lips falling open, stilling inside you to spill deep.

Spent and disoriented, Joel dropped his weight onto you while he caught his breath. He kissed your chest, rubbed your side, and lay in comfortable quiet until you tapped his shoulder, reluctantly parting to clean yourselves up.

Joel found your swimsuit for you, and gave you a tshirt to put on. He tried to find the words to ask you to stay, to spend the weekend, the week, the month with him. To keep fucking him and talking to him and eating and watching movies. He wanted to take you out, play your songs, see your apartment, everything that would keep

You in arms reach. But the back door slid open, and there were Kim and Matt bursting your bubble of possibility with their impeccable timing to take you away.

Before he could stop you, your flip flops were on, your keys were in your hand, and you were kissing his cheek goodbye.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel miller #joel the last of us #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #bat writes #smut

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endlessthxxghts · 1 year ago

Text

Animals

DBF!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈2.5k

Summary: Joel randomly calls you and tells you to meet him outside. Your parents are home though, and you can't necessarily tell them that Joel, your father's best friend, is asking you to go with him somewhere. Do you give a little white lie and leave, or do you wait until it's safer?

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified, but legal). Reader still lives with parents but she is an adult. Nosy and controlling ass parents to their child who's a grown ass adult. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Inappropriate car activities while driving. Handjob. Blowjob. Pulling into a parking lot in broad daylight to do some stuff... P in V unprotected. ✨Save a horse, ride a cowboy (in a parking lot)✨ Reader has bit of a size kink. Cum swallowing... Is there a term for kissing with semen in both y'all's mouths??? (Don't look at me...). Possessive kink. Spanking (just once though). Getting caught... Exhibitionism...😵‍💫 I think that’s as much as I can say without spoiling anything, so! After you read it, let me know if there’s anything that I should put in here that I missed out on!

A/N: One of my all-time favorite songs is Animals by Nickelback. As of lately, though, with all my Joel brain rot, I can't NOT think DBF!Joel every time I play it... so... here we are... I recommend listening before or when you read, just to really add to the experience hehehe.😈 @javierpena-inatacvest I hope you’re hungry!😋 Enjoy, y’all!!!

MASTERLIST

You’re beside me on the seat,

Got your hand between my knees,

And you control how fast we go by just how hard you wanna squeeze.

“Two minutes, get your ass outside.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. You blindly brought your phone up to your ear with your parents in the room with you, not taking the time to check the caller ID.

“I-” you start as you head to the bathroom, not wanting your parents to overhear anything. “I can’t just leave right now, and especially not with you.” He scoffs over the phone. “I was at the dining table with my parents, jackass.”

“But you’re not anymore, right?”

“No.”

“And they didn’t question you?”

“Didn’t give them the chance to.”

“Just get out here. I’ll drive off quick, no one will see,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Joel,” you say, your tone betraying your logical responses.

“Now,” he says before ending the call.

Your heart racing, you peer at yourself in the mirror, making sure you look semi-presentable even though you know Joel’s intentions are going to ruin your appearance anyway. You leave the bathroom, heading for the front door as fast as possible.

“Who called ya?” your dad asked.

“Going somewhere?” your mother followed.

“Just a friend. And I’m gonna step out real quick, I’ll be back in a bit,” you say nonchalantly, not trying to raise any suspicion. Your mother raises her brow at you.

“I really hope you both find the value in respecting people’s privacy,” you say, stepping out the front door as you speak, erasing the chances of any further commentary. That may have come across more harsh than you would have liked, but even into adulthood, the three of you have gotten into huge fights for your whereabouts. It’s not like you left them in the dark all the time or kept them up late waiting for you to get home. You were living under their roof, so you still respected their time. Yet, it was never enough. And you were too wound up thinking about Joel to bite your tongue.

He parked a house away, and you’re practically running at the speed of light to get into the passenger side so he can pull away before your parents decide to make it to the window to gain any more information they can.

As soon as you get into the passenger seat, though, Joel has different plans as he immediately puts one hand around your waist and the other on the thigh closest to him. You’re barely able to shut the door before he pulls you into the middle of the bench seat of his truck, your body flushed against his. You squeak out at his quickness, his strength. He smirks at it.

He lets his hand on your thigh drag up your body and situate itself on your jaw, turning your face to his and kissing you deeply, all tongue and teeth and thickened spit due to how fucking turned on both of you are.

You pull away, breathless, “Baby, you need to drive off, now.”

“Shit, sorry,” he says, releasing his hold on you. “Stop distractin’ me,” he playfully scolds, a smile full of trouble across his face as he pulls out of the neighborhood.

You scoff at him now, perplexed at his audacity to tell you that you’re distracting him. It makes an idea pop in your head. You’ll show him a distraction.

You shift your body to face him. Your hand lands on his thigh, running up and down lightly, getting closer to his hardened bulge that’s been begging for your attention since he dialed your number.

His grip on the wheel tightens, his jaw twitching, “Darlin’,” he grits. “What are you doin’?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say as you lean in closer, licking a stripe up his neck, your mouth at his ear. “Just,” you cup his erection, “being a distraction.”

His hips push up into your hand. He is painfully hard right now, his entire neck and face a bright red from your ministrations. You unzip his jeans, pulling it and his underwear down to let his cock free. You moan at the sight.

“I’m warnin’ you, girl.”

“Want me to stop?”

Silence.

He moves his arm closest to you to sprawl along the back of the bench seat, giving you complete access to him as he attempts to drive you two to God knows where.

You scoot closer in, and let out a content giggle. You place a wet kiss at his pulse point, whispering in his ear, “Thought so, baby.”

You bring your hand up to your mouth and let your spit pool in your hand, bringing it back down to his length, spreading it all over before you wrap your fingers around him.

“Joel, baby, fuck-” you moan in his ear as you slowly begin pumping him, “look how fucking big you are in my hands,” you whine. “Can barely wrap my hand around you,” you say as you nip at his neck again.

Joel begs his eyes to stay on the road, knowing that if he were to look down right now, he’d lose every ounce of his control — on both his self restraint and his damn truck. But, God damn, the slapping sound of your hand on his spit-soaked cock as you whine and writhe at his side has him desperate. He glances down for barely a millisecond, and he can’t help the groan that leaves his throat, his head threatening to throw itself back in utter pleasure.

“Am I doing good, baby?” You ask him. “A good distraction?” You add, your lips ghosting his jaw with each syllable.

“F-fuckin H-hell, baby,” he stutters, hips softly meeting every push and pull of your hand. “G-gonna make me c-crash this f-fuckin’ car.”

With his admission, your grip gets a little tighter, pumps get a little faster, and you're giving extra attention to the head of his cock. He’s pulsing beneath you, breathing erratic, and you can’t stop the urge to lean down and take him into your mouth.

On instinct, Joel’s foot falls a little heavier on the gas, causing him to drive a little roughly over a bump on the road. His dick pushes deeper into your mouth, causing the tip to hit at the back of your throat.

The spit that forms from your gag reflex gives you an easier ability to devour him just as he likes—warm, wet, and sloppy. Your head begins to bob faster, your hand still supporting the base of him as you periodically cup him below, and he’s an absolute mess.

You pull away for one moment in a choked breath, your hand now jacking him off, and you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I know you’re close, baby, I feel it,” you gasp out as your hand squeezes a little more, at the pressure you know makes him break. “Need you to cum, baby, need you to fill my fucking throat,” and with that, your mouth is back on him.

“Oh, f-fu-…” Joel nearly growls out, immediately pulling into some random parking lot, thankful the nearest slot was empty. The second the car is in park, he’s shooting his load down your throat, his hand flying to the back of your head to keep you stuffed full of him.

The way that you’re so turned on right now just by giving him the sloppiest head he has ever experienced has you absolutely dripping—an absolute moaning mess, vibrating him into overstimulation. He pulls you off, and you can’t help the blissed out smirk that forms on your face as you swallow almost everything he gave you, residue dripping down your chin.

He brings your face to his, and his tongue collects up his own spend, feeding it back to you in a desperate, sloppy kiss—if you can even call it that.

As your lips tangle in a nasty embrace, he’s quick to rip your bottoms off as he settles you on his lap. The feel on your pussy of his spent cock slowly getting erect again has you moaning into his mouth, your hips grinding down onto him, arousal coating him, urging him back to his full, hard length.

“Sh-shit,” falls from your mouth as his trails further down, leaving kisses down your throat. Joel brings his hand down to pump himself a few more times, ensuring he’s at full attention. Your hips lift up on instinct, Joel notching his tip at your soaking entrance.

You lower yourself onto him, going in with ease with how wet both you and him are, the stretch of him still providing that delicious burn. No matter how prepared or lubed up either of you are, that burn will never go away. You never want it to. It flips a certain switch of lust within you—an animalistic need—knowing just how fucking big he is, knowing that it’s all for you.

Usually when you’re on top, he’s extra sensitive, and you wait for him to give the signal for you to move. That need is there, though, and you can’t wait. As soon as your hips are flushed with his, you’re immediately lifting back up and dropping down on him again, maintaining a brutal pace that has you both uttering incoherent filth.

You place your hands on either side of his head, gripping the back of his seat to give you better momentum as you bounce on him. His hands are gripping at the globes of your ass, guiding your movements, fingertip-shaped bruises threatening to form. “Fuck, sweet girl,” he lets out, “just like that, baby.” His face is nuzzled in between your breasts, nipping and licking at them with every bounce of your thrusts.

His words cause your pussy to flutter, a possessive feeling gliding down your spine. Your one hand releases the chair and grasps at the curls on the base of his neck. “T-tell me,” you stutter, “t-tell me who my p-pussy belongs to,” you get out, licking into his mouth before you let him answer.

His hips begin to meet your movements, his pubic bone providing the cherry on top to unravel you. His lips are against yours, breaths intertwining into the thick air, windows beginning to fog. “Mine,” Joel growls. Your hips speed up, the truck shaking and squeaking with every movement. “This pussy is mine. You,” he breathes, “are fuckin’ mine,” a stinging pain fills your senses before your brain registers the slap to your ass.

Your thighs begin to shake and your body goes rigid, your climax teetering against the edge.

“Joel,” you cry out.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, let go for me,” he coos. And just as he’s about to hold you down to fuck up into you, a car parks right next to you, door immediately slamming as the person gets out and urgently peers into the driver’s side window.

Both of you are too close to stop your movements, the person’s face outside the car falling into pure horror and shock at what’s going on inside.

“Oh!” you scream out, both of you using all your strength to stop but unable to.

“That’s my dad outside the car!”

Oh please, the keys, they’re not in the ignition,

Must have wound up on the floor while we were switching our positions.

Before you know it, you’re pulsing around his cock as he fills up another one of your holes with thick, hot ropes of his cum.

Neither of you realize just when your father scrambled back into his car and drove away, but the idea of getting caught turned both of you on more than you’d ever admit.

You don’t get off of him just yet, both of you sitting in each other’s sweaty embrace as you let your breathing and heart rates return to normal.

“So…” he says, rubbing circles on the small of your back.

You look up at him, chin perched on his chest. “So,” you giggle.

“What the fuck do we do?” he asks, wordlessly referring to the mishap with your father.

Not as worried, you mess with him before giving a serious answer. “Mmm,” you say as you place a light kiss to his chest, “I was thinking you give me your boxers since you ripped the only bottoms I have on me, and you deal with the jeans chafing your balls until you get back home.”

His eyes go wide, completely forgetting that he did that, and silently cursing himself for doing something so stupid. Luckily he decided to actually wear underwear today.

“Oh, fuck, baby, I’m so sorry, I just-” he pauses for a moment. “You fuckin’ distracted me!” he says before he completely busts out in laughter, a deep howl filling the car. You smack his chest, your laughter following suit.

“You motherfucker,” you say, sitting up a little straighter, pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

He smiles at you, pure warmth and adoration in his eyes. He clears his throat, his face a little more serious. “I, uh, I was actually talkin’ about your old man, though.”

“I know,” you say, completely unbothered.

“Are you not worried?”

You shrug your shoulders. “No.”

“You don’t think he’s gonna try and wring my neck out?”

“Baby,” you laugh, “no, he’s not gonna wring your neck out. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

“Oh, gee. Thanks,” he deadpans.

“I promise you, I’ve got it taken care of.”

His fingers grasp your chin, pulling you in for another kiss, a little longer than the last. “I trust you.”

As soon as you enter the front door, you see both your parents at the dining table again. Though, this time around, instead of controlling and angry, they look pale and embarrassed.

You stroll to the dining table, not caring to sit down, and you get straight to the point. They can’t even look you in the eye.

“So? Did we learn our lesson about-”

“Yes,” your parents say in unison, “please just,” your mother continues as your dad starts to retreat anywhere else but here. “Let’s not talk about it.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles in your chest.

“You’re a grown woman,” your mother says, rigidly. “It’s really not our business what you do anymore.” You peer at your father. He throws a thumbs up at your mother’s words, eyes still trained on everything else but you.

“Glad ya guys came to your senses,” you say, offering a smug smile. You can’t help it. If catching you having the steamiest sex in an older man’s car is what causes them to stop breathing down your neck, then so be it. You’d have intentionally done something like this ages ago if that’s what it took.

You start heading to your room when your dad finally speaks. Still unable to look you in the eyes. “Tell Joel I don’t give a fuck what he does—what y’all do—just,” he pauses to take a breath. “Tell him not to address any of this with me. Ever.”

“Deal.”

No, no matter where we go,

‘Cause everybody knows,

We’re just a couple animals.

End Note: Well. That killed me. The amount of laps I took writing this...🥴 Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc, — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback for my stories (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @akah565 @pedrostories

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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itsharleystuff · 1 year ago

Text

↳ I. 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘓𝘋 𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘚 𝘚𝘐𝘕𝘕𝘌𝘙

Gif not mine! | Read part two here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.4k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After two years of absence and finally graduating college, it’s time you go back to Texas; to come home with your dad. But the prospect of facing the Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend and your secret crush, has your mind scattered.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), smoking, alcohol consumption, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, spitting, mentions of masturbation, pet-names (sweetheart, darling), moral conflict, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, pussy-drunk Joel, no use of y/n. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed something:)

— a/n: I honestly have tons of ideas for this particular universe, so I might make more parts if y’all like it<3 btw, reader is a fashion designer in this. Thought it might be important to mention, lol.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You had never met him before. Not in person, at the very least.

Up until a while ago, you'd only seen him in the pictures your dad kept hanging around the house. And he had plenty of those: both of them in college, a road-trip with other friends or even after a hunt. Of course, you'd heard a lot about him too, but whenever you visited Texas your dad would dedicate his whole days to you exclusively. No time to visit his best friend-slash-neighbor, despite all the opportunities presented.

So the first time you ever saw him face to face was two years ago, in a Fourth of July barbecue he hosted.

Joel Miller.

Joel mother-fucking Miller.

Tall, broad, rugged looking, moody and with a seemingly stern exterior. An absolute dilf.

You always found him rather appealing— nothing but a silly little thought from whenever you would stare at the photographs. But meeting him personally was a whole eye-opening experience, like getting glasses after discovering you’ve had astigmatism your entire life.

"He liked you, y'know?" your dad had told you the next day. "Joel isn't usually that nice."

"Maybe it's because I'm your daughter," you joked. "I bet that helped with my impression."

"No," said him, laughing and shaking his head, "it was something else."

You didn't interrogate him on the matter. Whatever it was, you sure were glad to be in his grace.

That summer you saw a lot of him— specially since it was the longest you had spent in Austin ever since your mom passed away. You were twenty two at the time, right in the middle of your college studies. But the amazing thing about Joel was that he never made you feel patronized, neither did he treat you like you had to fit in the 'best friend's daughter' box. He was nice and made you feel comfortable in all ways possible.

Frankly, deep down you wanted him to be an asshole. If that were the case, you could've had the perfect excuse to push him away. Instead, your crush simply grew stronger.

Because, fucking hell, the man was hot in a striking, yet brooding manner. Joel Miller was attractive in the way a man is supposed to be attractive. Which was quite a contrast compared to the boys that usually neared you, who had no sense of themselves and were always fooling around with no idea what they were doing.

It was so bad that even now, after two years without seeing him —or your dad, for that matter— you feel anxious and eager at the thought of a reunion.

You're now officially graduated, and after a lifetime of traveling the states to visit both your parents, added to four years of college in New York, it's finally time to settle down for a while. To move in with your dad and make up for the lost time.

"Are you really going to stay in Texas?" Sophie, your best friend, asked through the phone speaker. "After all these years in the big city?"

"Yeah, I ought to stay with him. After all, we're the only family we've got," you replied, staring out the window of the cab. "When I told him I was coming he got so excited, you should've heard him. He said he'd throw me a homecoming party, can you believe that? Who's even going to attend?"

You hear her giggle on the other side. "What about that Mr. Miller you always brag so much about?"

"What about him?" you wondered with half strained voice.

"Oh, don't play coy, honey," she mocks. "We both know how much you want him to give you a sweet old Texan welcome."

"I have no idea what that is," you respond, smiling.

"I just made it up. No idea what they do in the south. I'm from Brooklyn." Of course she made it up. "But I meant it's pretty obvious how much you want his head between your legs..."

"Okay, yeah- I get it." You interrupt, starting to see familiar houses from your dad's neighborhood. "You're right. But he's... Righteous. Apparently."

"Sweetie, let's be honest," Sophie talks softly, "no man is righteous. Just show them a bit of skin and they'll be wrapped around your finger forever."

"I'm not sure I-"

"Try it. And keep me updated," she mumbles hastily. "I've got to go now. I have an appointment with the Ralph Lauren executives in ten minutes."

"Treat them nicely, Sophie. Don't waste my recommendation letter," the girl laughs.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm serious about Miller, though. Be sure to wear something low-cut. Bye, bye!"

She hangs up right when you're outside the house; the one you knew so well and at the same time felt so unknown. The one where you spend each summer and occasional holiday in. Your childhood home. Oddly enough, the door is open but you can't see your dad anywhere near. You hoped he'd be around to help you with the luggage, though it didn't seem like it.

"Dad?" You call for him from the entrance, carrying both heavy suitcases. "Anyone here?!"

The faint noise of footsteps is barely audible before you see him leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed over his sturdy chest.

Breathtaking.

"M'not your old man but pretty sure I can help you with that," he says with that characteristic Texan drawl of his, gesturing towards your cases.

"But if it isn't Joel Miller in the flesh," he tilts his head with a faint smile, approaching your side. "You haven't aged a day since I last saw you."

It was true. Perhaps his skin looked a bit more tan, his hair somewhat longer and curlier, his beard starting to gray. But everything else remained the same. He smelled just like you remembered —fresh soap and musky cologne—, and still held onto the same mode choices: flannels, boots and dark jeans.

"Quite the opposite to ya," he says, taking both your suitcases from your hands. "I like your new hair."

"Are you implying I look old?" Joel grins smudgily.

"None of that, darlin'. I'd say mature." His words manage to make your pulse raise. "Shall I take this upstairs?"

"Yeah, I- I'll walk you to my room," he chuckles as he steps on the stairs. "What?"

The man shakes his head as he makes his way to the second floor, followed closely by you. Nothing about this house seemed different. Nevertheless, you felt different.

"Nothing. S'just..." he takes a deep breath, but changes the subject quickly. "Your dad went to the store to get some beers. He'll be back any second."

You nod, opening the door to your dorm. It was exactly the same as it was two years ago, simply tidier and with a poster that read 'welcome home and happy graduation' in messy, colorful handwriting over your bed.

"He made that himself. Though, I've gotta say, I'm glad he didn't pursue an artistic career." You both laugh at the comment.

"A for effort." Joel sets your luggage next to the doorframe, being monitored by your keen eye. "Will I see you tonight? I know you're not a big fan of social gatherings."

"Your dad'll kill me if I'm not. He's got me here since ten o'clock to help him out." You look up at him, feeling vaguely nostalgic when watching your surroundings. "But I'm also hoping we'll catch up. I'd like to hear all about your adventures in the big city, aight?"

"Oh, I'm not sure you'd like that," you retort. "I'm afraid you'll see a side of me you might disapprove of."

Joel's brows shot up in a cocky expression. "And here we were all thinking you were such a nice girl. Forget 'bout me, sweetheart. Your old man would drop dead if he gets the news."

You can't hold back the smirk that spreads across your face as you look him dead in the eye. Truth be told, you had wished for him to change, in any sort of way. Maybe if he had gotten a couple more wrinkles or grey hairs you'd be able to not find him attractive anymore. But age suited Joel. Maybe if he stopped being so warm to you, so kind, it might be able to fade away.

'Righteous', you'd called him.

But he isn't so much. No man ever is.

In your last visit you weren't bold enough with him, but each time you'd say something slightly suspicious, every occasional brush or brief skin to skin contact during a shared moment, had an effect on him. He reacted to you, even if he thought you wouldn't know. Sure, he was well restrained and you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't actually looking for any signs. That didn’t change the facts, anyway.

"I've never really been much of a nice girl, to be honest," you retaliate, dragging the words. "But I bet you can keep a secret, can't you?"

Something in your voice causes him to unconsciously stop breathing. His brows knit together and it takes him a second to regain composure. However, he doesn't get to say a thing, your dad's voice suddenly floating from the floor beneath.

With your blood rushing, you practically flee downstairs, seeing his face change completely at the sight of his beloved daughter.

"You're here early, what the heck?" The man mumbles with a kindhearted smile, embracing you in a tight hug.

"Figured I might surprise you." The boxes of beer he bought were quickly discarded when he saw you. "So, are you surprised?"

"Very. But I was supposed to pick you up at the airport. Did you take a cab?"

"Don't worry about that," you reassure with a gesture. "It was included in the airport bill."

"Oh, man..." your dad turns to see his friend, "you leavin' already?"

"I have to pick up Sarah," he explains, peeking at his watch. "She had soccer practice today."

"Can I expect to see her later, too?"

Joel nods at your question, faintly beaming. "F'course. She loves you."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

Shortly after Miller's departure your dad sent you off to bed, arguing that you were probably tired. And even if you wanted to stay and chat with him for a while, you had to admit he wasn't mistaken. Either way, you still had the rest of the day —and plenty more ahead— to do that. Besides, he still needed to sort some things out before the party.

So, without unpacking or undoing your bed, you slept for hours, dreaming about how your new life was going to be.

(...)

When you finally woke up, night had already fallen. Your dad mustn't have wanted to wake you, but it made you feel in a rush to get ready. You took a cold shower and kept your makeup neutral in order to be quick. Furthermore, Sophie's advice to wear something low-cut was taken under consideration.

Judging by the noise coming from the backyard, you guessed the guests had already started to arrive. You heard talking and music, aside from smelling the hamburgers your dad was preparing. There were kids running around and a couple of people chatting in the living room when you entered, setting all eyes on you.

You knew most of them, neighbors and friends of your dad's. They immediately monopolized your attention, asking questions regarding your career life, reasons why you chose your major and saying how much your dad loved and missed you. It wasn't bad, you liked the courtesy and praise; nonetheless, in the back of your mind you were solely expecting the Millers' arrival.

After a while, you excuse yourself and decide to join your dad outside, stepping onto the fresh air.

"How's everything here?" you ask friendly. "Need any help?"

He was surrounded by some other of his pals, all of whom you'd met in your last visit, except for one– still, you couldn't help but think that he had a familiar air.

"We're alright, honey." You greet them all with a smile as your dad hooks an arm over your shoulders, offering a beer that you decided to decline.

"My niece was right," said the man you didn't know. "You're quite beautiful." He spoke subtly and on the right lines, giving you a affectionate smile.

"Ah- I don't believe you've met Tommy," your dad chimed in. "He's Joel's younger brother."

"Oh, yeah..." you remembered, "he mentioned you last time I came. It's nice to finally meet you."

Now that you saw him up-close, he did resemble his brother in a certain way. There was something very emblematic that all the Millers had, a sparkle in their eyes that you picked-up on Sarah, but that enchanted you in—

"Speak of the devil..." your head jerked to the side, watching as your most expected guests come to join you.

"My goodness!" you speak in surprise, sharing a hug with Joel's daughter. "You've grown so much in the last two years... You're even taller than me now and I'm wearing heels." The girl giggles, charming as always. "Didn't you just turn seventeen?"

"A month ago," she answers. "But let's not talk about that, it makes dad feel old."

"Joel?" You look behind her, locking glances with him. "But he's in his prime!" he rolls his eyes sardonically.

"Come on, sunshine," Tommy says, "you know it's not polite to make fun of the elderly."

They laugh and you can vaguely hear your dad scolding him, but don't really pay attention to it as they go back to their conversation. In the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his smile.

He looked handsome. To you, he always did. Tonight, however, he decided to change the flannels for an olive button up shirt and a black leather jacket. His curls seemed carefully styled and he smelled of sandalwood.

"By the way," you address Sarah, "I brought you something from New York. It's one of my designs..."

"Seriously?" Her whole face lit up at your words. "You know how much I love your work!"

"Yeah, thought you might like it. But I'll give it tomorrow. I haven't unpacked and my things are real a mess."

"That reminds me." The girl turns to Joel. "Did you bring it?" he nods and takes a small box from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to her.

"What's that?" you question out of curiosity.

"I got you a lil' present," Sarah answered.

"You, did what?" Joel countered with a reproachful tone.

"I mean- I chose a present..." the man clears his throat and she rolls her eyes. "We chose a present, which he payed for. Buuut, it was my idea so-"

His dad snorts and shakes his head, turning to chat with the rest of the men. The younger one drags you away to have some privacy, taking a solitary spot under the big apple tree. During your conversation, you discuss the details of your so called 'highlife' and open the tiny box they gifted, finding a shiny ring sitting on the bottom.

"Do you like it?" You grin and nod in response, deciding to put it on in that same instant. "Dad noticed you like wearing lots of rings.”

Joel noticed.

"I love it," you remark. "Thank you. Both."

Your eyes drift to the crowd gathered around the grill, men laughing and sharing beers. The surprising part was that when you finally found your target, he was already staring at you. If he was expecting you to notice or not, there was no sign. But the older one held your lingering glance and everything else seemed to fade away, suddenly becoming white noise in the background. There was a challenging fire behind his brown orbs, kind of like he was saying 'I know what you're doing and I can do it too'.

"So," you turn back to Sarah with a strange, thrilling sensation in the pit of your stomach, "what's up with you? How's high school?"

"Boring. You know the drill."

"And the boys?" she almost looks flustered at the question.

"Complicated. Bet you know all ‘bout that." Your brows furrow slightly.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Just an impression," her fingers fidget nervously.

You shrug, deciding to change the subject. "You're graduating soon... Have you decided on any universities yet?"

"Not quite," she sighs. "I'm worried about my dad, really. I don't want him to feel alone if I move out."

A sly smile parts your lips. "He won't be. There's my dad, your uncle and... Me. I'll make him a Tinder profile. He'll be fine."

Sarah chuckles and shakes her head. "He talks about you, y'know?"

"What, Joel?" you ask in a sarcastic tone, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Hard to believe."

"It's true! I think he admires you, in a way..."

With a hand gesture, you stop her. "Are we talking about the same man here?"

"Ask him. He might deny it, but it's often your name is brought up in conversations," she unfolds. "When you got that internship in Ralph Lauren, the articles you've written, magazines you've appeared in..."

"It sounds extremely rare for someone like your dad would be interested in the fashion industry. Even if it's just for me, cause I'm certain my own dad is the one forcing all this information onto him."

"Maybe," Sarah agrees. "Whatever it may be, I'm sure he'll be alright if you're around. At least happy, I think."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

The kitchen was a good shelter from all the gossip and noisy kids that turned out to be overwhelming after some time. No one came in there unless they needed to; and as of now they all seemed more concerned with other sorts of business. Besides, it was pretty late and most people had already headed home.

A bottle of wine was opened and poured into a glass, accompanied by a Marlboro cigarette from the depths of your purse, enjoying them while watching the night sky through the window. All your mind could think about was him and his odd behavior: Joel picking up on details, Joel talking about you with Sarah. Him. Just him.

"Am I interrupting somethin'?" you shake your head without looking back, recognizing his voice.

He walks over to you silently. The man is somehow very silent for someone so big, to the point where you didn't even listen when he opened the door. He leans against the counter, his body so close to yours that you can feel his warmth even if you're not seeing him.

"Want some?" you ask, raising your half-empty glass of red liquid and whipping your body to face him, standing shoulder to shoulder, closing the curtain in the meantime.

"Thanks," he mutters, showing his can of beer, “m'not that fancy." You titter, taking a short drag from the dart. "I'll have one of those, if you can spare."

With the fag between your teeth, you take the pack of smokes from your bag and hand it to him, shooting an inquiry expression.

"What?" he asks with an arrogant beam.

"Nothing..." your voice comes out weird from holding back laughter as you take the lighter in your fist. "I just didn't know you smoked."

He takes one to his lips, keeping close eye contact with you all the while. The action sends a rush of excitement throughout your whole body as you duck forward to burn the unlit end, staring back at him with hooded eyes.

"I rarely do," he admits, setting the package aside.

If he wasn't hot enough already, the practiced mannerisms he had when smoking simply added to his sultriness.

"Why you hiding?" you wonder, ashing the cigarette over the sink.

"Not hidin'. Just sent Sarah home, but I wanted to catch you before leavin'."

It didn't surprise you, they lived across the street and, after all, he did say he wanted to talk.

"Did I mention how handsome you look today?" He sneers shortly.

"Well, my daughter was very clear 'bout not wanting me to wear flannels around a fashion designer." Joel takes a sip from his drink, holding the cig between his fingers.

"She gives me too much credit," you say, a bit embarrassed.

"You deserve it," the man replies grimly. "And you look absolutely beautiful, too. One of yours?"

His eyes briefly set on your chest, for such a short second that you actually believed you had probably imagined it. The dress you chose for the occasion was one of your first designs; pearl colored, cinched from the waist above and slightly loose over your thighs.

"Yes," you gulp, diverting your gaze to the glass on your hand. "So how's everything 'round here?" Joel shrugs his shoulders with indifference.

"'S alright. Same as always," he meditates on it. "Boring without you to keep us entertained."

You utter a mocking snort. "Do my silly little experiences really entertain you?"

The older one tilts his head to blow some smoke. "You always talk so freely about your dreams and the goals you've accomplished. And your dad's enthusiasm is contagious, I might say." He licks his bottom lip, thinking. "I don't know... I'm glad someone close is doing all 'at. Feels like you ain't afraid of anything."

His words put a bright smile on your face. "Life's a risk, isn't it? Better be bold if you want to end up somewhere."

He huffs a laugh, nodding in agreement. A comfortable silence veils between you as you enjoy the alcohol and cigarettes. It was always nice to hang out with him like this.

"By the way, how are you holding up?" the question clasps his curiosity. "Parenting a teenager can be quite difficult, I've heard."

"Jesus," he grunts, "it's driving me insane. Not her per say, but the whole 'boy talk' 's just too much."

"I bet," you chortle, "although, I wouldn't worry too much. It's just a phase."

"Yeah?" Joel scoffs. "You gon' tell me you ain't got tons of guys chasing around ya' anymore?"

"Oh, they're there," your tone matches his energy. "All these old ladies kept trying to introduce me to their sons a couple hours ago. Nevertheless, I gotta say..." He leaves the empty can on the bar across him. "Boys make me sick."

His eyes widen in surprise, but the rest of his face remained in composure. "How so?"

The atmosphere swiftly changes, a kind of heated tension rising to the top, palpable in your fingertips and waving in his chest.

"I've had my fair share of them," you explain playfully. "Guys my age never know what they want or what they're doing. I've decided to change my focus to men, instead."

He knows what you're up to. You can tell he does.

The question is: will he take the bait?

"Meaning?" Joel's lips curve around the orange filter in a smug smirk. You jerk your head to the right, setting the glass of wine aside.

"I'm not sure..." he laughs dryly at your hesitation.

"I think you are, sweetheart."

The abiding silence that followed that statement was nothing but electrifying. Clouds of burning tobacco linger around as you share an intense gaze, creating a solemn, intriguing ambience.

"Well, how am I supposed to tell you, out of all people, that I'm looking to get attended by an older man?" you rag. "Don't you think it's inappropriate?"

"Mhm," his grin is still visible under the dim, warm lights in the kitchen, "clever girl. I see what you're tryin' to do."

"I don't know what you mean," you murmur, scowling and intending to sound clueless.

He doesn't buy it.

"No-uh. You're many things, darlin', but dumb isn't one." He leans forward, his face barely inches away from yours, eyes scanning your features. Eventually, he decides to keep playing your little game. "Why's that, anyway?"

"See, Joel," you blow some smoke right under his nose, "boys I've been with always take. Everything's gotta be about themselves. I've never been the type to believe in relationships, but if they're gonna suck at that too, the least they could do is make you cum, not leave you drier than a fucking desert." Your words daze his mind and he finds himself pending for something that he wasn't supposed to. "Shit- I'm sorry... I shouldn't talk like this."

"Damn right you shouldn't," he rasps out, "what would your dad think if he heard you?"

Joel Miller never considered himself a weak man. Not once in his life. It's not who he is.

But right now, under your curious, passionate gape, he's slowly crumbling.

"Good thing you aren't my dad, then."

His heart is pounding in expectation and confusion. He keeps thinking 'this can't be happening'. He tries to convince himself that it's all in his mind, like he did last time you were in Austin. But you bat your pretty eyelashes at him an it feels like you're begging to be taken away.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you know what you're asking for," he talks strictly, like you wouldn't actually understand. "Say this things to the wrong person and they might take advantage of you."

You laugh under your breath. "Are you the wrong person?"

He remains silent for a couple seconds, contemplating your question, meditating this whole parade in order to keep his head cold and ignoring the increasing heat that soared all around.

"M'not sure," he huffs.

It's true. He doesn't know anymore.

Your cig has burned out.

"I think you are, Mr. Miller."

Oh, such a clever girl indeed.

Suspense is killing him, like he's walking on the edge of a blade. Your closeness is intoxicating, the smell of your perfume gets him dizzy and his skin burned there where your limbs brushed against each other's. His lungs felt like crushing under the weight of anticipation.

"Quit beating around the bush," he downright demands. "Tell me what you want."

Honesty is a virtue; one you didn't lack with him.

"You," his chest puffs with a shaky breath. "Ever since we first met, you've been the only man on my mind."

Dangerous. This whole situation is dangerous.

But Joel would be lying if he said he didn't feel the same. That was the worst part of it.

For little more than a decade he had been perfectly content with his singleness; the sole thought of going on a date being absolutely terrifying. His best friend did try to set him up with a couple of his female acquaintances multiple times; yet he declined or merely accepted out of sympathy, never taking things further than a one night stand. Joel never expected that the one woman that would grasp his attention would be you.

He had never been into younger girls, at least not that young. But there was something enchanting about you. Whether it was your charming smile, your cunning eyes or your confident, determined nature that made all heads turn in your direction when you walked into a place.

Something about you bewitched him.

Perhaps it was none of that and he was simply depraved. Perhaps it was all of that and more.

For all he knew, you could've put a spell on him. Since your last visit, you had been on his mind like a mist that fogged his senses. He felt torn apart by his morals and desires, trying his best to get rid of the ghost of you.

That was until your dad told him you were coming back to stay for an undefined amount of time. What kind of sick game was fate playing with him?

"You tryin' to get me killed?" he locks a snarl behind his teeth.

His cigarette has burned out too.

"I know I'm asking for much," you say, "that I put you in a difficult position. With my dad and all 'at." Swallowing hard, you muster enough courage to raise a hand to his jacket, just laying your palm flat there. He allows it. "So I understand if you say no. You can decline and we’ll just act like nothing happened."

If Joel were a better man, he would've.

He definitely should have.

"It's okay. I can always call the next older lad on my hotline," you joke. "Your brother Tommy... I think he'll be interested."

He'd be damned.

No. Joel was just a man, and like every other, he could only take so much.

Quicker than you'd expect, his hand catches your wrist and moves your arm away from his body, the other raising your head up with two fingers under your chin. His face is so close to yours that his breath tickles your skin.

"Is that so?" his voice drops an octave. "You disappoint me, sweetheart."

Your legs quiver, feeling suddenly weak on the knees and hot on your lower abdomen. "How?"

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, staring down at you as if he had you wrapped around his finger. Truth be told, he really did.

"Thought there was a bit more fight in ya'," he whispers, letting go of your hand and laying his palm flat on your hip. "I haven't yet given my answer and you're already thinking of fucking my brother?"

You lick your lips nervously, glancing at his own and then back at his eyes. Your breathing pattern is completely altered and the ache between your legs starts to grow.

"Or was that just to tease me?" he asks with a grin.

"I don't know..." your hands clench in fists, wanting to touch him but wallowing in this new power dynamic. "Maybe."

"That's rather vague, darling." He takes a step forward, eradicating the distance that separated your bodies. "I'll ask again..." his fingers curl around your throat, not applying pressure but merely holding you in place. "What do you want?"

It's too late to look back now. Though you wouldn't think of it. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

Music to his ears.

He doesn't respond, eyes boring into yours intently. The unholy words that you spoke scatter his brain and all he wants to do is accept. But he wouldn't indulge so easily. If you wanted to play games, he'd teach you how to play better.

You tilt your head upwards, searching for his mouth with limited mobility. Your eyes briefly close at the feeling of your lips barely brushing against his own, waiting for him to kiss you. Except he does not, simply caressing the soft flesh teasingly.

Joel's body is flushed against yours, keeping you caged between the counter and him. The hand that rested on your hip gradually travels to your ass, splaying his fingers over your covered butt and giving a firm squeeze that makes you squeal. Every breath he takes is the very air you breathe. The proximity and his scent are slowly —but surely— making you lose your sanity.

"Such a pretty girl," he mutters hoarsely, "with such filthy thoughts." You look at him through heavy lids, gaining enough courage to move your hands to his broad chest. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Please, just- kiss me." The plea is so desperate and pathetic that it doesn't even sound like you.

"Can't do," he says at last. "If you want to be treated like a slut, you'll get treated like one. Sluts don't get kissed." You feel yourself get wet with his attitude, trying to clench your thighs together in order to create some friction. "I can't give you what you want, sweetheart. Not tonight, at least."

His lips move to your jawline, tracing open-mouthed kisses along your bare neck and collarbones that have you panting in seconds, his facial hair scratching your skin deliciously before coming back up again.

"But don't worry, angel," he pours into the shell of your ear, "I'll make sure you cum, since you want it so bad."

"Fuck, Joel-" you stutter when he abruptly spins your body around, his growing bulge grinding against your lower back.

His face nuzzles on the crook of your neck as his hand roams over your thigh, leisurely making its way beneath your dress. You feel his teeth lightly scraping your flesh, the hardness of his crotch poking your ass and your own arousal pooling in your panties.

"Jesus..." he groans when his fingers reach the dampness between your legs. "I've barely touched you and you're already soaked."

"I meant it when-" your sentence gets muffled by a strangled moan that escapes your lips, "when I said I've been wanting you for so long."

His body vibrates with a laugh, ruffling your hair with his breath. He starts rubbing small circles on your clit, making your whole body shiver and squirm while he pushes the fabric aside, gathering your slick with his index and spreading it all the way back to your bud, repeating his actions until your arousal covered his knuckles.

"Wanna know a lil' secret?" his voice comes out soothing and husky as he eases two digits inside you, stretching you out in a way that makes both of you groan. "I felt the same."

His fingers are thicker, bigger and rougher than yours, adding to a new, unlocked satisfaction you had not yet experienced.

Joel took his time to explore the spots that provided more pleasure, that had your hips chasing him and biting your lip to refrain from making noise. His other hand gropes your breast, caressing your delicate nipple over the thin fabric, easily done due to the lack of a bra. He keeps altering his ministrations, collecting the wetness from your core and bringing it up to your bundle of nerves, prior to sliding into your cunt again. All that can be heard in the kitchen are the squelching, utterly pornographic sounds of your pussy and your pitiful whines, inaudible to everyone but him.

"You like this, sweetheart?" he hums, feeling your sticky arousal drip down your thighs, rejoicing in your responsiveness to him. "Being fingered by a man twice your age while your dad's just a few steps away?"

You squeeze his thick fingers, picturing just how big his cock must be just from the boner pressing your back. "Y-yes..."

He simply loves the way he's got you so needy, coming undone with so little. You were easy to please, so he wondered how awful your past lovers must've been if they couldn't get you wet. A primal instinct surges on Joel, wanting to erase all of them from your mind, as he wanted to be the only man you ever think about if you're having an orgasm.

"That's my girl," he coos, thrusting his fingers at a nice pace, curling them upwards to hit that soft spot that made your knees tremble.

You hold onto the counter for dear life, throwing your head back and laying it on his chest. He sighs every time your cunt tightens around his digits, mesmerized by your enticing cries and whimpers that had him painfully hard in his jeans. The sensation is overwhelming, adrenaline filling both of you at the prospect of getting caught.

A burning sensation builds on your lower belly, tiny beads of sweat rolling down your temple at the incoming crescendo. His thumb kneads over your clit with the right amount of pressure and your body gives in to him, all tension melting away as your muscles relax.

"Just like that, darling." His deep voice reverberates through you, holding you up by the grip on your waist. "Take what I give you."

"Joel, Joel, Joel-" he chuckles once again at your delirious state, biting down the sensitive skin on your neck as he helps you carry out your high.

He pulls his fingers out and you mewl in complaint, mouth slightly agape. You can't see his face but you watch as he takes both his sticky fingers to his mouth, your chest rising and falling while trying to regain composure. He licks them clean, savoring your sweet taste and feeling his cock twitch from the mere idea of his tongue exploring your folds, taking that same flavor straight from the source.

"I'm not done with you," he growls, swirling your body around.

He's fucked up now. He has found his own, favorite drug between your thighs and can’t seem to stop himself from getting it. He had a small taste and now craved for more like he was a famished man.

"Can I get a kiss now?" Joel finds your insistence amusing.

Those eyes of yours were driving him insane, staring at him wildly, sparkling with an etching desire. Your lips were plumped and glossy, cheeks flushed red and hands fisting his shirt. Seeing this side of you was like displaying one of his darkest fantasies, the kind that would randomly appear in his dreams and had him waking up guilty and needy.

"No," he grumbles, cupping your face in his hand and forcing you to glance up at him. "Open up."

You obligue without hesitation, parting your lips shamelessly— which further spurs him on—. Almost instinctively, you already know what he's going to do, catching that inquiring look in his darkened eyes. With a light tap to his chest, you give him the green light and he spits right into your mouth. You don't think about it twice; in fact, you can't even process what you're actually doing, unconsciously swallowing down while keeping eye contact.

"Good girl," he purrs, caressing the side of your face with gentle stokes of his thumb.

His voice and praise send you to oblivion, managing to give you goosebumps. But Joel won't allow you to catch a break, glueing his lips to the hollow of your throat and making his way down, down, down, until he's kneeling before you, feeling the way you tense and shake for him. He grips your body strongly, the pads of his thumbs dipping on your hipbones as he rests his forehead on your lower abdomen, taking a deep breath in. Your hands run through his curls, tenderly grazing his scalp with your nails.

The man feels as if he's wasted; your scent, all around him, on him, intoxicating every fiber on his body. He'd be haunted by it, by you, in the upcoming days.

He reaches beneath the hem of your dress, fingers skating along the band of your panties and tugging them down at a tortuous pace, meanwhile his eyes pierce your soul. Joel lets the drenched underwear pool at your ankles and drags the thin, satiny fabric all the way up to your tummy, inhaling sharply at the sight of your sticky slick covering your inner thighs.

"Fuck..." he touches you like you're sacred, like he was granted permission to do so but couldn't fully believe it. "Jesus Christ, you're beautiful," he mumbles when he coaxes your legs apart.

You blush at the comment, growing partially embarrassed. A shadow of pure lust covers his gaze as he stares at your exposed, wet cunt. He basks in the view of your damp skin and swollen clit, feeling his mouth water and his pants strain.

"Joel-"

"Forgive me, darlin'. Been a while since I..." he clears his throat, trying to regain hold of himself, "since I went down on a woman."

Your fingers tangle on his locks and you give him a reassuring smile. "You don't have to-"

"But I want to," Joel blurts out. "I need to taste you, sweetheart. Would you allow me to?"

Did he even need to ask?

"Yes- god. Please..."

It's all he had to hear. He leaves small kisses on your swollen lips, taking pleasure in your silent gasps as his mouth inched closer to your clit. Your hips buck against his face when his tongue finally landed on that sensitive bundle of nerves, making you moan a bit louder.

"Fucking hell," you babble, gripping his hair tighter.

He groans, his tongue flattening above your delicate bud and sucking on it. Joel can see in your face how hard you're trying to refrain from making any noise, your brows slightly furrowed and mouth partially open as you throw your head back. His chest swells with pride, knowing he's the one making you feel this good.

Then you have to hold yourself up when he suddenly hooks one hand around your calf and lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder to keep you open for him. His face buries between your thighs, tongue sliding across your wet folds and savoring your arousal mixed with your previous release. He uninhibitedly whimpers, lapping up the slick that kept pouring out of you, devouring your pussy like he had never had anything as good.

The man can't take it anymore, he's reached his limit. One of his hands snake down to fumble at his belt, as he sloppily palms his bulge through the briefs, trying to get some relief. He's drunk, feral, when he eats you out most earnestly, finding your weak spots rather quickly— the ones that made you shiver, that made you shut your eyes from sheer pleasure or grind against his face, but specially the ones that had you tugging harshly at his hair.

"Joel- please, I'm so close..." you cry out lowly, the only thing that kept you standing being his hand on your waist.

His beard makes your skin feel feverish and it's nearly impossible for you to hold back a whine when his nose grazes your clit and right in that instant you're coming hard, nerves buzzing and ears ringing. You feel lightheaded, white spots appearing in front of your eyes as the orgasm rips through you intensely. He drinks you down, licking you clean as if it was a crime not to, and you gasp at the overstimulation.

He helps you steady yourself as he gets back on his feet, hovering above you. His lips were shining with saliva and your own juices, dripping down to his chin. You breathe rapidly, pulse still racing while you look up at him with glassy eyes.

It's right in this moment when Joel knows for certain that he'd do it all again, consequences be damned.

If he was going to hell for what he'd done, then he would gladly do it, knowing that he had seen heaven the moment his tongue was inside you.

"Did I live up to your expectations, sweetheart?"

Instead of replying, your hand shoots to his jaw, the pad of your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. He lets out a shaky exhale and you don't miss the opportunity to finally lean in for a kiss. And despite his previous declines to your wish, Joel happily corresponded. You taste him and yourself when his mouth explores yours in depth, feeling his unsteady heartbeat against your own chest.

It's madness; a blur of wet, messy kisses as your hand coasts down his pants and underneath his briefs. You swallow down his lewd moans when you grasp his throbbing length, a deep groan coming from his throat when you circle the tip with one finger, coating it with his leaking precome. He takes your wrist to prevent you from going any further.

"Enough of that," he grunts, still not pushing your hand away. "I'm too worked up, I don't wanna be coming in my pants like a goddamned teenager."

You respect his decision, drawing your hand back and guiding your fingers to your lips with a cheeky smile. Fucking tease.

"I think it'd be hot," you murmur, dragging the words and leaning next to his ear. "Maybe afterwards I can help you clean up the mess..." you carefully nip at his earlobe, delighting in the way his body jumped and a sigh escaped him. "With my mou-"

"Fuuuck..." the mental image you were describing was not helping his situation. "We- we’ll do that next time.”

And before you can move a muscle, he gives you a soft forehead kiss and rearranges his pants, asking you to say goodbye to your dad in his behalf as he sneaked out. You stand there for a couple of minutes, dumbfounded and completely blown away from your post-orgasm bliss, still processing that all this had actually happened and it was not just another of your sexual fantasies and daydreams.

Joel was in a similar position. In spite of taking a cold shower and fucking his fist in the meantime, tonight's events kept being relived every time he closed his eyes, making him yearn for you all over again. It was a tough night of not much sleeping.

He thinks he might feel guilty in the morning.

Maybe he should. But he honestly doesn't.

Not even when he faces your dad the next day and he tells him how happy he is to have his darling daughter back home.

Nor do you. There's not a hint of guilt in your body when you go to his house in the next few days, solely to spend time with Sarah. No shame in the looks you share, regardless of the little to zero time you could spend together, always being surrounded by other people.

None of that mattered. All the while, the only question that roams your minds is: when will you do it again?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #dbf!joel

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devilmademewriteit · 2 years ago

Text

Let Me Love You Like A Woman (Let Me Hold You Like A Baby)

part 3 of Dark But Just A Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you’re in his place. you’re in his bed. will joel ever be anything more than your dad’s friend who occasionally fucks his frustrations into you, or will you always be strangers?

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, oral [m receiving] fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mentions of reader having long hair; pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel); dubcon (power imbalance); age gap; dbf!joel; angst; mentions of murder and torture.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites loml forever

word count: 4.1k

no use of y/n in this fic

Click here to read part 1, Dark but Just a Game.

Click here to read part 2, Pretty When You Cry.

(neither are totally necessary if u just wanna read some filth, fluff, n angst, all u rly need to know is that they’ve fucked twice before & he’s dad’s best friend lol).

a/n: thank u for all the support on this series. i’m literally so obsessed with all of you it’s not even funny. enjoy this while we collectively grieve the end of the season, & i’ll be here writing fic in the meantime. Don’t forget to join the taglist for any and all upcoming work! -em <333333

—

It had taken all of ten seconds for you to lose your shirt, your jeans, and your most beloved pair of (now ruined) panties after stepping foot in Joel Miller’s apartment.

“‘Fuckin’ soaked already—been thinkin’ about me all day, huh?”

And those tantalizing fingers. They were third on the list of things you thought about when you touched yourself, right after his cock and the insatiable look that haunted his eyes when he was inside you. Joel’s talents were wasted as a smuggler—he’d have made a fantastic pianist or maybe a guitarist with the way that index and that damned thumb conspired to make you sing for him.

“Anyone else touch you here since me?“ “No, Joel—just you—only you.” “Attagirl.”

He’d gotten you fully naked (something he’d never bothered to do before) and writhing in his grip in a matter of seconds, laying rough kisses down your spine with patience and attention. Every single one was a spoken promise: I’m coming back for you.

“Look at you, baby, takin’ a real man all by yourself.”

Hands on your hips, knees pressed to the worn-in mattress—every other word in the English language omitted itself from your vocabulary as Joel drew his name from your lips over and over and over again, the thick length of his cock easing you to oblivion with every gratifying stroke.

“Gonna make this pussy come til’ you’re begging me to stop, sweetheart.”

Feeling his cum drip down your thigh, barely having a second to breathe before being manhandled onto your back, hands searching your body, mapping you out like a foreign land before taking him in again. “It aches, Joel.” Crying softly into his neck, tears of pain and ecstasy leaking down your cheeks. “M’jus’ breakin’ you in, angel.” The smell of his hair anchoring your senses to right here, right now as release washes over you again and again and oh, Joel’s hands on the outsides of your thighs to steady your shaking legs.

“Eyes up baby, wanna see ‘em while I’m comin’ on that pretty face.”

Joel tasted like salt and sin and his stickiness on your cheeks felt warm like a late august sun. Watching you blink your lust-filled and trust-filled eyes, grabbing a fistful of your tangled hair, Joel memorized the way your pouting mouth looked painted with his seed. Thick, dark eyebrows creasing together as a groaned ‘fuckin’ hell’ fell from his open lips—with you, he became an artist, and with him, you were a blank canvas.

Now, the moonlit room was quiet; with every primal need purged from both your systems, your exhausted bodies lay entangled, empty and content. Joel’s heartbeat had settled a few minutes after yours—you’d made note of it with your ear pressed to his chest. But every twitch or fidget from the hand resting on the curve of your waist had your own rhythm picking up double-time, sending hot blood coursing through every now-aching limb.

“You should go,” he grumbles after a while, eyes still closed, body still at rest. Fucking you had basically rendered the man comatose. “Your dad’ll raise hell if he sees an empty bed.”

You scoff. “It’s not like he’s ever cared before—remember when Emma and I snuck out to the old mall and I radio’ed him to get us out?” Joel chuckles, remembering the fond memory. After all, it had been him and not your old man who’d shown up to kick down those crumbling cinema doors, partly rescuing you but mostly reaming you out for being such a careless, stupid teenager.

“And either way, Miller, I’m an adult.”

This time, it’s Joel’s turn to scoff. “Jus’ ‘cause you’re legal, dun’ make you an ‘adult.’ You still whine like a kid.”

You giggle softly as he mocks your indignant tone, feeling the lungs beneath you rumble subtly, too.

Joel was always softest and at his most vulnerable after sex. Well, aren’t all men the same? You figured it was just the nature of the act that left its participants a little more tender and a little less inhibited after its completion. It was strange to remember that Joel was a man like any other.

And the man that you’d allowed to ruin you so skillfully, to burn himself on the archives of your mind, somehow remained a complete mystery to you. He was a tangled web of stifled emotions, unspoken sentences, and chilling stories you’d heard from your inebriated father.

If there was any time to untangle him, it was now.

Joel’s t-shirt is damp with his sweat, and yours, too. What a shame that he hadn’t removed it earlier. He was so very impatient when it came to fucking you, and despite having enough patience this time to get you naked, he didn’t bother to give himself that same treatment. At this point, you felt too self-conscious to ask, pretty well certain that he’d turn down your request, anyways. Peeling your profile from the navy blue fabric, you gaze up at him inquisitively, a steadying hand pressed tentatively against his broad chest.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your voice sounds small, like that of a scared child. It makes you cringe.

“Hmph,” he grunts, eyes firmly closed.

Better than nothing. A start.

“Well,” you begin, painfully slowly, tracing timid circles under his collarbone, “Sometimes, I think—”

“S’great, sweetheart,” he interjects in mock earnestness. “Good for you.”

“Knock it off, Miller,” you slap his shoulder playfully. A sly, amused expression teases his features.

After a long, heavy pause, with only the trickling and creaking of the old building occupying it, you soldier on.

“Sometimes, I think that when you’re… well, fucking me… you, well, you kind of use me to—vent.” There. You’d said it. “Like, your frustrations.”

A long exhalation escapes Joel’s lips as he mulls over your words, choosing eventually to respond with cautious and dismissive humor.

“This your way of askin’ me if you’re more’n my human Xanax?”

“No, asshole.”

He hums quietly. The distant sound of a gunshot travels through the open window, dragging you both back to the present moment.

A forced sigh. “I wanted to ask you what you’re trying to get off your mind.”

Joel tenses almost imperceptibly underneath you, an air of seriousness collecting around him.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grumbles, amusement fading from his tone. “M’not really interested in talkin’ about our feelings together.”

The harshness of his words only entices you to push him again, to understand the man who so clearly understood you. There was something there–likely many things there–that he had fucked into you. Things that you now need to know. Things calling to you like an abandoned childhood home.

You want to pull him into yourself, crawl under his very skin and exist there for a minute or two. In his bed, in his place, and you’re still worlds apart.

“I’m not asking you to talk about your feelings, Miller. I just want to know that I’m not letting, like, a total, raging maniac climb between my knees.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His eyes flit open, and as soon as they do, you recognize the vacant, apathetic expression that had characterized him for you all these years. He grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows, and you sit up, yanking at the tangled sheets to cover yourself.

“Ever been outside the QZ, sweetheart?” He asks, his poorly restrained temper slicing through his words.

Looking down at your hands, you trace the cream-colored creases stretching along the blanket, shaking your head no, side to side.

“S’right. Not a single man on this planet that’s not a total, raging maniac. Enough fear, thirst, or hunger…” something truly terrifying creeps onto his expression, a vision of darkness, unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Not with soldiers, not with your father, not even with Joel.

“Everyone’s a killer.”

You swallow slowly, trailing your eyes up to meet his charged gaze. The room feels cold.

“Are you?”

His shadowed eyes narrow with irritation. “Am I what, sweetheart?”

“A killer.”

Then it’s regret and violence corrupting his features, and before you know it, Joel Miller is somewhere else. It takes a long time for him to come back to you (if you can even pretend to claim that Joel had ever been with you in the first place).

He hesitates, huffing quickly with frustration and looking away for a brief moment before focussing back on you—conceding to your question with a quick nod.

An acidic taste collects on your tongue, but his answer isn’t surprising. You’d always known in some way that Joel had taken lives. Still, it felt strange to hear him acknowledging it, to see the pain that admitting to it caused him. His actions actually bothered him. That meant he had a soul in some jagged, twisted form and that certain things could affect it. Thinking about that made your temples hurt.

“For what reason?”

You can’t help it—you’d come this far, and it felt like failure to quit prying. It doesn’t matter that Joel’s a grenade with no safety lever. You know it’s only a matter of time before he explodes, but you’d grown up diffusing your father daily. Bombs were your specialty.

“Does it matter?”

Upstairs, the floorboards creak softly. It almost makes you jump.

“I think so.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing with irritation. Otherwise, he stays surprisingly level. Some hopeful part of you tries to whisper that some softer part of him actually wants you to get under his skin.

“Alright.” You stare at him, stunned at his forfeiture, as he breathes a dark, humorless laugh. “But you’re gonna hate me for my answer.”

There’s a loaded pause as you gape expectantly at him. His head falls back, eyes fixed to the chipping, washed-out ceiling.

“In the early days of the outbreak, before FEDRA had the QZs figured out… things weren’t easy. You gotta understand that.” His gravelly voice cuts through the room’s silence, vibrating through your stilled body. “I’ve killed, tortured, n’hurt more people’n I can count. Sometimes to save myself, sometimes someone else, ‘n other times… other times jus’ because. And,” he groans, laying his back against the pillows as his harrowing monologue comes to a close, “It wasn’t always life or death, either.”

You pull the sheets in close to your chest, shuddering partly due to his words, partly due to his delivery. As if he was warning you. As if he wanted you to hear the truth and…

And punish him for it.

With his eyes shutting again, he can’t see you studying him. He’s probably assumed that a look of abject horror has poisoned your complexion. As you angle yourself to view his resting body—the pained expression causing his eyebrows to furrow, lips pressed tightly together—an overwhelming rush of adoration expands in your lungs, swelling inexplicably and uncontrollably in your chest. Your thoughts blare at full blast inside your racing mind.

Joel was capable; he had blood lust and an inner violence that meant he felt, deeply, and he’d die—or even better, kill—for those he loved. He was…

Joel was perfect.

Maybe it was a fucked up thing to feel—maybe it meant that you needed to be studied by a team of psychiatrists. Either way, the thought of his agonized soul, carrying on out of sheer spite and a reluctant desire to protect his own had you melting at his side. Joel wasn’t static, unfeeling, or a ghost, he was real, and he was alive. Growing up in a near-dead world haunted by once vibrant cities had made that trait alone extremely precious.

He remains still while you move his arm, wiggling next to him to sit back on your calves and looming over his unyielding form. Maybe he thinks you’ve pulled a gun on him and is just giving you a chance to pull the trigger.

Dropping the pale sheet from your breasts, you caress Joel’s harsh jaw in one hand, sneaking the other down, down his stomach and under the waistband of his briefs.

His eyes surge open, finding yours and filling with confusion. You burn with affection, a kind of fierceness that wasn’t there before.

Brow creasing, eyelids fluttering as he hardens in your grasp. You wordlessly entice him once again, bowing down and over to press tender kisses to his neck.

“I could never hate you, Joel Miller.”

He whimpers softly as you stroke him—tantalizingly slow in big, long pulls—it makes your heart flutter to hear him whine for you.

A refreshing reversal of roles.

You ease your way down, trailing your lips down his scarred side and over to his front, exploring the strip of grey hair marking the center of his abdomen.

Joel watches you, longing on his lips, but the uncertainty still lingers. You need him to listen.

“I’d kill and torture if it meant survival—” you arrive at his hard length, pumping it in your hand right next to your softened features.

“And I would kill and torture for you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you part your lips around the tip of his cock, drinking in his fascination as you take him in slowly, wholly. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses the back of your throat.

Once again, you’re filled with Joel.

A soft hiss, and then his face becomes a symphony of pleasure, disbelief, and, finally, hunger. His large hand caresses the back of your head, capable fingers tangling softly in your hair as you glide up and down his length, tasting the salt of his pre-cum and your own acidity on his satin-smooth skin.

He only parts from your stare when you draw lazy, adoring circles around his tip, throwing his head back and grinding out a ‘Jesus Christ.’

It’s almost too much for him when you start using your hands, making it your life’s purpose to eagerly please every inch, every square millimeter of him. You drag your tongue from the base of his length all the way up to the top, silver-lined eyes boring intensely into his own.

“Shoulda let you do this sooner,” he breathes, gently pushing your head down until your nose brushes against those dark, curly hairs. “Look so fuckin’ pretty with a mouth full of cock.”

There he is.

You pull off him, strings of saliva trailing down from your lips to the glistening tip of his length. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

In a haze, perfectly slowly, Joel throws his head back with a low growl. You stroke him affectionately, spit and his own salt collecting between your fingers as you wait patiently for his reply.

Then he pushes himself up to a sitting position, wrapping his rough hands around your upper arms and easing you up off his length. “Not this time, baby.” You’re straddling him, taking in the unfamiliar care spoiling his tone and softening his hard features when he leans forward, locking you in place like a missing puzzle piece he’d spent his whole damn life searching for. His cock rests between your bodies, pressing exquisitely against your abdomen.

“Only got one more in me, sweetheart. M’not plannin’ on wastin’ it.”

He lifts his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks between them like some kind of priceless, fascinating object. It all feels so paradoxical: innocent despite the filthiness of his words, gentle despite the forest fires blazing in his gaze. Searching your eyes, he runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone.

And he kisses you.

It’s not bruising at first—it’s a soft, curious question, an experiment. The grey-flecked hair of his mustache brushes the crescent of your Cupid’s bow, and the feeling almost brings you to tears. So you lean into it, deepening the kiss with hard pressure, searching for the answer on his tongue. That’s when his hands tangle in your hair, and his lips steal the oxygen right out from your lungs as he reciprocates fiercely.

It’s like watching a prisoner take his first steps out into the sun after being held in isolation for a decade. You wonder if it had been that long for Joel.

Without breaking away, you trail a hand down the fabric of his t-shirt. Then, you’re grabbing it from the bottom and hitching it up his abdomen. He pulls away just a half-inch to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, his own marked with apprehension.

“I want all of you,” you plead breathlessly, sliding off his starved lips.

Joel ducks his head, staring at the meeting place between your fingers and his cotton.

“If…” he tries, words clumsy, voice gruff. A bit of bashful humour underscores his tone, too. “F’I let that happen, you’ll see that I’m really jus’ an old man, angel.” You begin to protest, having come prepared with another I-like-them-old-and-decrepit speech, but he cuts you off, anticipating your reaction. “Jus’ been a long time since I looked fit enough for somethin’ like you.”

It’s almost too ridiculous. Joel Miller, worried about how you’ll receive his appearance after you’d deep-throated him for admitting to Geneva-convention levels of violent crime.

This time, it's your turn to cup his face, cradling him reverently between your hands with passionate devotion.

“You and me might be different on the outside,” you begin, surprising yourself with the conviction dripping from your own tone. “But deep down? I’m just as rotten as you.”

His mouth breaks into a genuine smile, and he chuckles, creases lining the corners of his eyes as if carved there by God’s own hand. Nodding with concession, he shrugs his shirt off; you reach out to help him to pull it off entirely.

Scars, definition, and tan skin stretch with every shaky breath he takes. Fuck. The tips of your fingers explore him, honoured by the feel of likely being the first in ages to claim this spot, and that one, and this one here, too–Joel’s turned you into a conquistador, a crusader.

“You’re so, so handsome, Joel.”

It’s not enough to see him, wholly exposed, flesh-blood-skin-scars-and-muscle. Nothing’s ever made you feel so safe and so warm; Joel is a worn-out, hand-me-down jacket that you can’t seem to part with; he’s candles during a thunderstorm, a thick blanket begging you to wrap yourself in it. You want him on you, against you, inside you.

So you take the man, and you kiss him—ardently.

His breathing hitches when you grasp his length, and it stops completely when you slide it between your slick folds, pulling every inch of him inside yourself appreciatively. You swallow his groan as he inhales your gasp.

Your hips move together in tandem. Rocking against his thighs as his hands anchor into your hair, or on your breasts, your ass, your waist—Joel holds you as close to himself as physically possible, threatening to crush you between his arms, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip with a starving kind of need.

Old habits die hard. Joel gets swept up in the way you start struggling to kiss him back, the involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your helpless fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. Sliding his hands under your ass, he holds your hips steady. Then, he’s spreading you open to receive him more readily, dictating the rhythm, the angle, and the brutality of how he fucks you.

Ruining you to completion was quickly becoming an addiction.

He smiles against your mouth when you give him a muffled “mmm,” releasing your lips to watch, a captivated audience, as your eyebrows knit together, relishing the sound of your lungs filling with short, pleading gasps.

“Gonna be bruised inside n’ out, baby.” Joel’s promise barely registers over the clap of his skin against yours and your own wanton moans. A thoroughly cock-drunken expression and the worship of his name on your tongue win you some hard-earned praise.

“Taken me so many times tonight—been such a good lil’ toy.”

Your lips slide down the stubble and the rough skin of his cheek, limp body giving out with every punishing snap of his hips. Still, you attempt speech, stammering out a “Joel, I-I want—” that’s mostly unintelligible.

“I know, baby,” he coos, words muffled by your hair, hot breath fanning out over the valley of your neck. “S’hard to use your words when you’re jus’ so full, huh?”

After finding the strength to straighten up and face him, your mouth moves from its permanent ‘ah’ shape to string together a pleading, desperate sentence. Joel doesn’t make it easy for you, picking up the intensity of his strokes, dragging you to the edge of bliss.

“I wanna—I want you to show me how to ride you—to take you—please—let me make you come.”

He laughs softly into your shoulder: the sight and the sound of a woman begging to do the work was a kind of rarity (albeit an appreciated one, at his age) in his experience. Acquiescing, he lowers you back onto his broad thighs, slowing his rhythm, and giving you a chance to catch your shallow, uneven breath.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

Like a true cocky bastard, Joel leans back against the mess of strewn pillows, casually tucking his hands behind his head and leaving you to steady yourself on top of him, velvet walls still fluttering and squeezing adoringly around him.

You hold yourself up with your palms pressed flat against his chest. Rock slowly and carefully against his hips, observe the sight of your fingernails pressing into his unyielding chest. A whimper tumbles from your sore, parted lips as Joel’s tip nudges your inner-most sensitive spot.

“Eyes on me.”

Hardened hands reach out to circle your waist. “You look at me when you’re riding,” he instructs.

“Show me how grateful you are for this cock.”

His voice is strict and firm but gentle all the same. Joel relaxes underneath you. It feels good—so good—to watch your body undoing his own; it feels even better when he flexes involuntarily inside you, stretching open your sore, aching, and somehow still needy cunt. Locked into his lustful, dominant gaze, you speed up, throwing your hips back to grind enthusiastically against him. He watches first your eyes and then your breasts, palming them, teasing your hardened nipples roughly.

“You wanna touch yourself?”

Low and gravelly and filthy, his question looms over your body, only adding to the soft thud drumming inside the eager bundle of nerves between your thighs.

He makes you realize that you really, really do.

You nod eagerly at him; Joel gives you a knowing expression of sympathy.

He never could help his condescension at watching you crumble so easily from so little.

“Show me, angel.”

So you do–Joel holds you steady as your hand falls to your clit, drawing clumsy circles over that one aching spot. Your fingers are frustratingly unskilled compared to his, but at this level of arousal, you’ll do anything to ease that mounting pressure. You focus hard, multitasking through your euphoria.

Him watching as you pleasure yourself excites you. Squeezing him harder, riding him with newfound passion—Joel groans as his long-awaited orgasm builds between his thighs, watching you bounce up and down his tense, throbbing length. His darkening eyes beckon you to keep going, to tip him over the edge.

You want to fall into them when he comes inside you.

He knocks your hand away, replacing your index and middle fingers with a broad, calloused, impatient thumb against your grateful bud. “Ohmygod–Joel–” and the rush worsens, his fingers acting as catalysts for the all-too-familiar sensations spreading across your core.

“With me, baby,” his voice is gruff, restrained by need, want, lust. “Lemme feel you comin’ when I fill you up–s’it, good fuckin’ girl–”

Tears collect on your lashes, and a sob heaves from your throat. You reach your climax for him, the ache from your clit spreading to overtake every inch of your body. Joel comes too. He tucks your head into the soft, damp skin of his neck and fists the hair at the back of your head. Your legs ache with absence the moment he pulls his fingers away from your core. Still, his only instinct as his seed spills between your walls is to pull you into himself as tightly as possible, to intertwine himself wholly and eternally with your young, devoted soul.

He doesn’t let you move after it’s over. One arm circles your waist, the other snakes up your back; it feels like standing at the base of the pearly gates of heaven. When his laborious exhales brush the top of your spine, it’s those damn angels sighing.

And it feels like he’s here. It feels like you’ve landed somewhere together, no longer strangers but something else. Something new. Something stronger. Sweeter. And worlds more dangerous.

Joel Miller running his thumb up and down the plunge of your neck. Joel Miller cursing himself for allowing you to take a hammer and chisel to the walls he’d spent painstaking years putting up, eternities before you were even born.

Joel Miller realizing that he can’t find it in himself to let you leave.

“For the record, sweetheart—I’d torture n’ kill for you, too.”

You have no trouble believing him, smiling softly against his shoulder.

—

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Tumblr on mobile loves to destroy my fics by screwing with the last few hundred words SO here are the lyrics to Let Me Love You Like a Woman by Lana Del Rey lmao <3

I come from a small town, how about you? I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want you to come Eighty miles North or South will do I don't care where as long as you're with me And I'm with you and you let me

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in poems and songs Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me hold you like a baby

I come from a small town far away I only mention it 'cause I'm ready to leave LA And I want (need) you to come I guess I could manage if you stay It's just if you do I can't see myself having any fun, so

Let me love you like a woman Let me hold you like a baby Let me shine like a diamond Let me be who I'm meant to be Talk to me in songs and poems Don't make me be bittersweet Let me love you like a woman Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity Let me love you like a woman (let me hold you like a baby) Take you to infinity

We could get lost in the purple rain Talk about the good old days We could get high on some pink champagne Baby, let me count the waves

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