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

honeyedmiller · 2 years 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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pascalispimp · 12 days ago

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Whiskey Bent and Heaven Bound

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: She’s been riding his nerves for years, but when she waltzes into his bar in that little dress, pushing every damn button, Joel’s patience snaps. One jealous glare, one bar fight, and one heated moment against his truck later—he’s finally got his hands on the one thing he was never supposed to have. She may be forbidden, but tonight, she’s his to break.

Warnings: 18+ afab and fem reader, p in v sex, dbf fic, unspecified age gap, no description of reader but has big boobs and ass, dirty talk, no use of y/n, unsafe sex, oral (f! receiving), creampie, degradation, praise kink.

Word count: 3.5k

Joel Miller had never been a patient man.

Life had never given him the luxury of it. He had worked with his hands since he was young, learned early on that the world didn’t give second chances. He was a man of discipline, a man who knew how to keep his head down and his wants buried.

But she was making it damn near impossible.

She had been a teenager the first time he met her, trailing after her father, all wide eyes and laughter, running barefoot in the summer heat. He had watched her grow up, watched her turn into the kind of woman who could bring a man to his knees.

And now, she was back.

Older. Smarter. Dangerous.

She had always been off-limits. The daughter of his best friend, the one woman in the world he had no right to want. But she was making it impossible not to want her.

It had been easy to tease him, to poke at that ironclad patience of his and see ifshe could get a reaction. A lingering touch here, a too-sweet smile there. Watching the way his jaw clenched every time she called him Mr. Miller in that honeyed voice just to watch his ears turn red.

But no matter how much she pushed, Joel never broke.

Miller’s was packed, bodies moving, voices loud, music twanging through the air.

Joel had been behind the bar all night, pouring drinks, barely listening to the conversations around him. He had been doing a good job of keeping his mind on work, on anything but her.

Until she walked in.

The air seemed to shift, a pull in his gut that made his grip tighten around the glass in his hand.

And then he saw her.

That pretty little dress clung to her, the hem swaying just high enough to make his throat go dry. The cowboy boots only made it worse, giving her the perfect mix of sweet and wild, like she belonged there, like she wasn’t trying at all.

Except he knew she was. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Her gaze found his across the room, and a slow smile curved her lips.

His gaze dragged over her, slow and deliberate, before snapping back up to her face. He looked pissed.

Good.

Smiling to herself, she let her friends pull her toward the bar, where Joel was still watching, still brooding. She leaned against the counter, resting her elbows on the wood, waiting for him to say something.

He didn’t.

Instead, he grabbed a glass and poured her a drink, sliding it across the bar without a word.

“Not gonna say hello?” she teased.

Joel kept his gaze on the glass in her hands. “You ain’t supposed to be in here.”

She tilted her head. “Since when?”

“Since you started struttin’ around like you want trouble.”

She let out a soft hum, dragging her fingers along the rim of the glass he had just poured for her. “Maybe I do.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.

She was doing it again—pushing, testing, seeing how far she could go before he snapped.

“Not tonight,” he muttered.

“Not tonight what?”

His jaw clenched even harder, his teeth grinding.

She leaned in just a little, voice soft, sweet, coaxing. “You don’t like my dress, Mr. Miller?”

Joel exhaled sharply. “You think this is a game?”

Her lips twitched, like she was trying not to grin. Joel had to look away before he did something stupid, something reckless.

Like pull her across the damn bar and show her exactly how much he liked that dress.

The night carried on, the bar growing louder as the drinks flowed. She was laughing with her friends, sipping her whiskey slow, when she felt it—

A hand.

Not Joel’s.

Rough fingers slid along her lower back, dipping too low, too familiar. She tensed, turning sharply to find a man standing too close, grinning like he had a right to touch her.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he slurred, breath heavy with beer.

She moved to step back, but he caught her wrist, holding on just tight enough to make her stomach twist.

“Let go,” She said, voice cool.

He laughed. “Aw, don’t be like that.”

Then, all at once, he was gone.

Yanked back so hard he stumbled, nearly falling on his ass.

Joel.

He was furious.

She had never seen him like this, not even when he was arguing with her dad about football scores or fixing some busted-up truck in the heat of summer. This was different.

Dangerous.

His hand was wrapped around the man’s wrist, squeezing so tight she could see the strain in his forearm.

“I told you,” Joel said, voice low, steady, lethal. “Get your goddamn hands off her.”

The man tried to laugh it off, but Joel yanked him forward just enough to make his breath hitch.

“You touch her again, I will break your fuckin’ hand.”

Dead silence.

The man swallowed, eyes darting around the room, looking for anyone who might step in. But no one did.

They knew better than to cross Joel Miller.

He let go, shoving the guy backward. “Get the hell out of my bar.”

The man didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t even look at her again. Just turned and left, tail tucked between his legs. And then Joel turned to her.

“Outside. Now.”

"Lets go," he barked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of the bar like a knife. The other men gathered around her table with protested, but Joel's icy glare sent them retreating faster than a coyote with its tail between its legs. She was still taken aback by his sudden aggression, but didn't struggle as he practically dragged her out of the bar and to his truck.

He didn’t stop until they reached his truck, the metal cool against her back as he crowded into her space.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” he growled.

Her pulse was racing, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I wasn’t doin’ anything.”

Joel exhaled sharply, his hands braced against the truck on either side of her. His body was close, heat rolling off him in waves.

“You been runnin’ me in circles since you got back,” he muttered. “Wearin’ these little dresses, givin’ me that damn smile, callin’ me—”

She licked her lips, voice soft. “Mr. Miller?”

Joel groaned. His fingers flexed against the truck, like he was fighting every instinct in his body to keep from touching her.

“You don’t know what you’re doin’, girl.”

She tilted her head, her lips a breath away from his. “What if I do?”

Silence.

Thick, heavy, charged.

Joel’s hand came up before he could stop himself, rough fingers tracing the line of her jaw, tilting her face up. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, slow and deliberate.

Her breath hitched.

“Joel—”

He kissed her. It was desperate, all fire and hunger, years of restraint snapping like a damn rope pulled too tight.

His hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him, pressing her against the truck. She gasped against his lips, and he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, claiming her.

Her hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, like she wanted to crawl inside him, like she had been waiting for this just as long as he had.

Joel lifted her onto the edge of the tailgate, his grip firm on her thighs. Her dress rode up, exposing soft, smooth skin against the rough denim of his jeans.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, breathing ragged.

“You sure about this?”

She didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him back in. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Joel groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

She smiled, breathless. “Then at least you’ll die happy.”

His control shattered.

He kissed her again, deeper, hungrier, and this time, he didn’t stop.

He opened the door of his truck and threw her into the backseat, the leather cool against her bare skin. He didn't bother with pleasantries or explanations; he knew she was playing with fire, and it was high time she felt the burn. His eyes raked over her, taking in every curve and freckle that made her uniquely her. She met his gaze, a mix of defiance and curiosity in her own eyes. He leaned in, his breath hot against her neck, and whispered, "You've been asking for this all night, darlin'."

Her heart raced as he climbed in beside her, the weight of his body pressing her into the seat. The smell of his cologne, leather, and something uniquely Joel filled the small space, making her head spin. His rough hands began to roam, tracing the lines of her body as if they were an ancient map, each touch setting her skin alight. Her own hands found his beard, and she pulled his face closer, feeling the prickle against her cheek. His lips claimed hers in a kiss that was as fierce as it was possessive. She could feel his hunger, his need to claim her as his own.

He pulled away, his eyes dark with lust, and grabbed his hat from the front seat. "Wear it," he grunted, placing it on her head. The brim shadowed her face, making her feel a mix of excitement and naughtiness. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her in his cowboy hat, a stark contrast to the bratty persona she had been putting on all night. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

With surprising gentleness, Joel pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her ample breasts that bounced free, the cool air making her nipples tighten into delicious little buds. He took one in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, while his hands found there way under her dress, tracing her soft thighs. She gasped, arching her back, the fabric of the hat brushing against her neck as she reached for him. Her hands roamed over his muscular chest, feeling the strength beneath.

Her own dress was quickly discarded, leaving her in just her lacy panties. He groaned, taking in the sight of her. His own desire was evident, pressing against the fabric of his jeans, but he took his time, savoring the moment. He reached down and slid her panties off, tossing them aside. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmured against her skin as he kissed his way down her body.

He settled between her legs, his breath hot against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, her pussy glistening with want. "So sweet," he whispered, his voice gruff with desire. He dipped his head and licked her, a long, slow stroke that made her moan. She was already close, her body tightening with every flick of his tongue. He chuckled darkly, the sound sending vibrations through her. "You're eager, aren't you?"

Joel didn't wait for an answer; he feasted on her, his tongue delving into her depths, lapping up her sweetness. She squirmed beneath him, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair as she pushed herself closer to his mouth. "You taste like heaven," he murmured, his breath tickling her clit. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he worked her over with his mouth, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin.

The tension built, coiling tighter and tighter within her until she couldn't take it anymore. She shuddered, her orgasm ripping through her like a tornado, leaving her panting and trembling in its wake. He looked up at her, a smug smile playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "Now, you've been teasing me for so long, let's see if you can handle the real deal."

With a swiftness that belied his size, Joel stripped off his clothes, his muscles rippling in the dim light of the truck's cabin. He was a vision of raw masculinity, a stark contrast to the gentle care he had taken with her moments before. He grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap so that she straddled him, his erection pressing against her soaked pussy. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. She didn't hesitate, sliding down onto him, feeling him fill her completely.

Her gasp was music to his ears, and he watched as she adjusted to his size, her eyes fluttering closed as she began to move. Joel's hands found her hips, guiding her movements, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on her skin. "Look at me," he said, his voice a gruff whisper. She obeyed, her eyes locking with his, and he could see the trust, the need, the desire all swirling together in their depths.

He leaned back against the seat, watching her ride him with a fierce determination that sent bolts of pleasure through his body. The hat sat askew on her head, her hair a wild mess around her face, and she had never looked more beautiful. His grip tightened on her hips, urging her to go faster, deeper. "Take what you want from me, darlin'. Show me what you've been hiding from me all these years."

Her movements grew more frantic, her breasts bouncing with every bounce, her moans filling the space around them. Joel could feel his own climax building, the base of his spine tingling with the promise of release. He leaned forward, capturing one of her nipples between his teeth, giving it a gentle bite that made her gasp and ride him harder. "That's it," he murmured, his voice a dark rumble in his chest. "You're going to make me come sweet girl."

The words seemed to spur her on, and she began to grind down on him with a fervor that was almost animalistic. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons that would likely bruise by morning. But Joel didn't care. All he could focus on was the exquisite pleasure she was giving him, the way her pussy clenched around his cock with every movement she made. He knew he wouldn't last much longer.

With a growl, he flipped their positions, her back now pressed against the cool leather of the seat. He was relentless, pumping into her with a force that made the truck rock slightly. His hands found her breasts again, kneading them roughly as he claimed her mouth in another bruising kiss. She could feel his dominance, his need to possess her, and it only made her wetter.

Joel's hand slipped down between them, his calloused fingers finding her clit. He began to rub it in time with his thrusts, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body. She moaned into his mouth, her nails now digging into his back, her body begging for more. "Cum for me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise in her ear. "I want to feel you come all over my cock."

Her walls tightened around him, and she knew she couldn't hold out much longer. With a cry, she shattered, her orgasm tearing through her like a wildfire, consuming every part of her being. Joel followed her over the edge, his own release hot and powerful as he buried himself deep within her. They stayed there, locked together, for several long moments, their breathing the only sound in the quiet parking lot.

When he finally pulled out, she could feel the emptiness he left behind, both physically and emotionally. He didn't say a word as he tucked himself back into his pants, his movements efficient and practiced. She watched him, her chest heaving, the hat still perched on her head. It felt strange now, a symbol of what had just transpired between them.

Joel reached for a pack of cigarettes from the dashboard, lighting one up with a shaky hand. He took a long drag, the tip glowing red in the darkness before he turned to her. "You know, you've been playing a dangerous game," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You can't just tease a man like that and not expect consequences."

She sat up, her breath still coming in ragged gasps, the hat slipping slightly on her head. "I know," she whispered, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "But you liked it, didn't you?"

Joel's expression was unreadable, his eyes hooded as he took another drag of his cigarette. He beckoned her closer with a crook of his finger, his voice a soft rumble. "Come here, darlin'." She complied, sliding over to him, the leather of the seat sticking slightly to her skin. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close, the hat still perched on her head.

The warmth of his embrace was a stark contrast to the coolness of the night air that had seeped into the truck. His heart thudded against her ear, a steady rhythm that seemed to echo the beat of her own. He inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent, a mix of sweetness and sex that was uniquely hers. "You know your daddy's going to kill me if he ever finds out about this," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.

She giggled, the sound a little shaky, and snuggled closer to him. "Don't worry," she whispered, "I won't tell." Her fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath her touch. The gravity of their situation settled on her, the reality of what they had just done heavy in the air between them.

"You're mine now," Joel said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "All those pretty dresses you wear, all for me to peel off." He reached down and picked up her discarded panties, holding them up with a smirk. "And these," he added, tucking them into his pocket, "are mine now."

She looked up at him, the hat tilting slightly to the side. "What are you saying?" she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and excitement.

"I'm saying," Joel began, his eyes dark and intense, "that from now on, every time you wear those little dresses that drive me wild, it's my cock you're thinking about. Every time you spread your legs for anyone else, you're going to remember whose cock you really want." He took another drag of his cigarette, his gaze never leaving hers. "And when I say no one else gets to taste you, darlin', I mean it."

Her heart fluttered at his possessive words, a thrill of fear and excitement racing through her veins. "But, Joel, my dad—"

"I don't care about your daddy," he cut her off, his voice firm. "You're mine, and I'm not sharing." His eyes bore into hers, leaving no room for argument. "You'll wear those dresses, keep 'em guessing, but they'll never know what's hidden beneath. They won't get to taste what's mine."

He took her hand and placed it over his heart, the steady beat beneath his palm a declaration of his ownership. "You're not just a pretty face in a short dress anymore. You're mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to fuck." He leaned in, his breath a warm caress on her neck. "And when you wear that hat," his voice grew gruffer, "you're riding the cowboy."

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The weight of his words was intoxicating, a heady blend of fear and desire that had her knees trembling. She knew the rules had changed, the line she'd been toeing all night had been crossed, and there was no turning back. "I won't let anyone else have me, I'm yours," she murmured, her voice a soft promise that seemed to vibrate through him.

Joel's grip on her tightened, his eyes never leaving hers. "You'd better not," he warned, his tone playful yet laced with a hint of seriousness that made her stomach flip. He leaned in and kissed her again, a kiss that spoke of ownership and passion. His hand found her bare thigh, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin, sending waves of pleasure through her body. "Every time you wear one of those dresses, I'll know that underneath, you'll be dripping full of me, my cum will make sure it says 'property of Joel Miller.'"

The thought made her blush, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her hand sliding down to his crotch, feeling him harden again. "Only for you," she murmured, her voice a siren's call in the quiet night.

He groaned, his hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Good girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "Now, let's get you dressed and back inside before anyone starts asking questions." He helped her into her clothes, his movements almost tender. As she adjusted her dress she couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret, knowing that she'd be giving up the thrill of the chase. But the look in Joel's eyes told her that the real fun was just beginning.

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razrbladekiss · 5 months 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.

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dontlookatme121 · 2 months ago

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(Smut) Fic Recs

Pedro Pascal characters, including Javier Peña, (mostly) Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Oberyn Martell, Marcus Acacius, and Lucien de Leon.

fic recs from a girl who spends too much time reading smut.

WARNING: PLEASE read the warnings on these fics; almost all of them contain smut, dark themes, and other sensitive topics. read at your own risk. EXPLICIT 18+, MDNI.

Javier Peña

One-Shots:

FYBF by @almostempty | javier x f!reader

Just Friends by @punkshort | Javier Peña x f!reader

Maneater by @probablyreadinsmut | Javier Peña X Afab!Reader

Murphy’s Sister by @absurdthirst | Javier Peña x F!Reader

Not So Secret Santa by @lincolndjarin | javier peña x fem!reader

Purgatory by @gothcsz | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader x Fem!OC

Strangers by @joelmillerisapunk | Stripper!Javier Peña x f!reader

Series:

Thoroughfare by @gothcsz | Javier Peña x Original Female Character | (Ongoing)

★ my fav fic. you should read it & everything else by Kat!

Fantasize by gothcsz | javier peña x fem!reader | (Ongoing)

Neighbors by gothcsz | javier peña x f!reader | (Complete)

Salvatore by @devilmademewriteit | javier peña x afab!fem!reader | (Last updated 03/2023)

(Un)Faithful by probablyreadinsmut | Rbf!Javier Peña x Married F!Reader | (Ongoing)

Unscripted Desire by gothcsz | Pornstar!Javier x Pornstar!OFC x Fem!Reader | (Ongoing)

Joel Miller

One-Shots:

blurred lines by stellamarielu | joel miller x female reader

But daddy, I love him! by @sanarsi | older boyfriend!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Cherub by @thechaoticcherub | Priest!Joel Miller x reader

Dusk by gothcsz | No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader

Euphoria by sanarsi | professor!Joel Miller x student!f!Reader

For Cryin’ Out Loud by @gracieheartspedro | post-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

handsy by @stellamarielu | joel miller x female reader

I'm Happy Where The Devils Are by @dilf-docs | dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

Just This Once by punkshort | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

love thy neighbour by @ace-turned-confused | joel miller x f!reader

Middle of the Night by @frannyzooey | Joel Miller x f!Reader

Not Your Daddy by @celiababy | Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

october's end. by @salingers | joel miller x f!reader

room for three by @morning-star-joy | joel miller x f!reader x arthur morgan

The Christmas Auction by absurdthirst | Joel Miller x F!Reader

TRICK OR TREAT by @maiamore | No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader

Tomb rider by @joelspeach | dbf!Joel x female reader

feels so right by @fake-bleach | dbf!joel miller x reader

You're a Daydream, Stay A While by dilf-docs | joel miller x younger!reader

Series:

cowboy like me by @macfrog | dbf!joel miller x f!reader | (Complete)

Dark Shades of Innocence by @mermaidgirl30 | club owner/pleasure dom! Joel x fem! reader | (Complete)

Fourth of July by jrrmint | dbf!joel miller x f!reader | (AO3 Complete)

Give in Again by @pocketfullofkouhuns | No-outbreak!Joel x f!reader | (Complete)

i'll be home for christmas by punkshort | (Hallmark) Joel Miller x f!reader | (Ongoing)

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise by @littlcdarlin | DBFJoel x f!Reader | (Complete)

right kind of dream by almostempty | joel miller x f!reader | (Complete)

slasher joel by @toxicanonymity | dark!Joel Miller x f!reader | (Ongoing)

Smooth Operator by @penascigarette | Joel Miller x F!Phone Sex Worker | (Ongoing)

swept away by punkshort | Joel Miller x f!reader | (Season 2 ongoing)

The F*CK IT LIST by @auteurdelabre | DBFJoel x f!Reader | (Ongoing)

unbeneath and you under my skin. by @tokkiwrites | mom's fiancé/bf! joel miller x f! | (Ongoing, last updated 11/2024)

worship by @mssalo | Joel Miller x married!f!Reader | (Complete)

i’ve read a lot more joel miller smut than i could’ve ever anticipated (ily dbf!joel)

Frankie Morales

Series:

The boyfriend act by @capuccinodoll | Frankie Morales x F!reader | (Ongoing)

Oberyn Martell

One-Shots:

The Watcher by absurdthirst | Modern!Oberyn Martell x F!Reader x Ellaria Sand

What’s Love Got to Do with It by almostempty | oberyn x f!reader

Marcus Acacius

One-Shots:

III by gothcsz | Marcus Acacius x Fem!Reader x Lucius Verus Aurelius

Blood Favor by @pedgito | Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Prima Nocta by @fuckyeahdindjarin | Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

The Farmer's Daughter by punkshort | Marcus Acacius x f!reader

The Future of Rome by absurdthirst | Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Lucien de Leon

One-Shots:

Shameless by @milla-frenchy | Lucien de Leon x fem reader

there are some of the fics i've read and enjoyed since getting back into fanfiction in july 2024. it's a lot more than i expected, approximately 55. ill be posting monthly fic recs beginning march 2025.

thank you to all these fantastic authors who keep me up at night as i consume unreasonable amounts of smut. you're all amazing <3

dividers by @enchanthings

(updated 2/23/2025)

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strawhbrrries · 1 year 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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ozarkthedog · 10 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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coquettepascal · 2 months ago

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brave girl

summary: you decide to try something new when you believe you're home alone. joke! you aren't home alone. at least joel is willing to help.

tags: 18+ smut, joel miller x afab!reader, dbf!joel (it's mentioned twice,) pillow humping, f!masturbation, sexual frustration, getting caught, crying, insecurity, anxious!reader, softdom!joel (kind of idk,) soft!joel, neighborly!joel, tooth rotting sweetness, clit rubbing, kind of size difference-y, praise, nicknames like baby, sweet girl, sweet one, brave girl, etc.

a/n: yayy i wrote a fic !!! this is VERY birthday girl adjacent btw so if you liked that you'll like this (and vice versa!)

wc: 2.2k (not beta read)

You know this isn’t how he wants you.

No guy willing to fuck around with his best friend’s daughter wants it to be like this, where she’s sniffling and crying into his shirt, pushing herself not to squirm away from him. The normal idea of this would be for him to meet you at a beach, or a barbecue, or something else summer-y and sexy, and then you’d fuck and then oops-wait-you’re-his-daughter!? That’s how this should be, right?

But no, instead you’re in the midst of your semester off, and sure you had met Joel a few times over the holidays when you came down to visit your old man, but you didn’t think this would be happening.

Joel shifts behind you, reminding you that the position you’re in sucks for him. You’ve heard him complain about his back before, and now the ridge of your twin size bedframe is digging into his spine. You wish you had the energy to move or help him, but your eyes are bleary and your body is frozen from anxiety, which is better than the embarrassment of earlier. Thinking about the humiliation… a flash of hot red runs up your neck at the memory.

You had been trying something different. After scrolling online for a little while on some forums, you made the decision to try humping your pillow. Penetrative sex wasn’t something that felt good for you, and rubbing your own clit gets boring after the fourth night in a row. So yes, you decided to desecrate the pillow you’d been frustratedly tossing and turning on for the past week.

It had started out okay. And literally just okay is how you would describe the experience. After being excited at the idea all night last night, and into the morning before your dad left for work, you had basically jumped onto your pillow the second the door clicked shut. Your flimsy undies were supposed to work as some sort of extra friction, and they kind of did, but eventually you just resorted to rubbing yourself while you were hunched over your pillow. The friction just wasn’t right, your pillow was too soft and there was nothing to truly rub against so it just frustrated you more. Your anger peaked when you realized that you had been all excited for no reason and you quickly lost steam on the jerking-off part of your morning, resorting to huffing and puffing into the pillow which pissed you off so bad.

But when he had found you, or rather, just opened the door, you were crying.

For whatever reason, you felt embarrassed about the pillow situation. You’re how many years old and you can’t make yourself come? Fingering yourself feels “weird” so instead you humped a pillow? Shame quickly overtook your frustrated feelings and you ended up crying into your sheets, clit abandoned and fingers slightly wet. Maybe you just weren’t meant for something like this, maybe you just weren’t meant to have sex or be sexy. What kind of girl were you? Surely a broken one, surely a stupid one. Nothing could feel worse than this self-created humiliation.

Except, obviously, Joel finding you.

“Are you oka– woah,” is what he had said before slapping his free hand over his eyes. Joel was annoyingly quiet sometimes. Without his work boots clomping beneath him he was a quiet guy with quiet movements so long as he was on carpet, so you had no clue he was in your house. He wasn’t there last night, so what the hell was he doing there now?

A little yelp had left you as you tugged your shirt down and shoved your pillow back to its rightful spot on the bed in a flurry of movement. Blush pink had crawled onto your face and shameful red snuck up your spine, seizing your neck to stiffen your posture.

“What are you doing here?” You had asked, a guilty lilt to your tone.

Joel was standing there, clearly also flustered, with his hand still over his eyes.

“Your dad kept sayin’ he’d fix the cabinet in the upstairs bathroom but he didn’t,” Joel begins to explain, his hand dropping from your door knob. “He’s back at work now and I uh— It’s my day off so I figured I’d lend a hand. Then I heard you crying or uh, something.”

You decide to stare into the bottom corner of your room, beside Joel’s feet.

“I was crying.” It isn’t a lie.

Joel nods, almost takes his hand off his eyes, then decides to keep it on.

“Why?”

And you probably shouldn’t have answered honestly. You should not have told Joel that you were crying because you feel like your pussy is broken, or maybe that your brain’s broken, and that you haven’t come in weeks because you keep getting so in your head about it. But you did, and that wouldn’t have been so bad. Would it have been bad to vent to your dad’s friend about how you can’t bust a nut? Yes, always. But it’s worse because it’s Joel, Mr. Fix-it-Felix himself, who just has to help everyone.

But you didn’t exactly say no when he offered.

So now, you’re here, with your body cradled between his thick thighs, the denim of his jeans scratching at your lower back while one of his arms cradles the upper part of it. Joel said it was fine for you to put all your weight on him, and so you did. Your head rests on his shoulder, eyes focused on the aging, freckled, skin of his neck.

You had warned him you’d probably keep crying, but he said it was okay.

“You bare under the shirt, baby?” Joel asks softly. Your head nods your answer, eyes burning.

The shirt is draped between your thighs as your knees are propped up but apart. Joel’s hand comes down and hesitantly hovers there, fingers just brushing the fabric before cupping you through the fabric.

“Can I touch underneath?” He asks.

It takes you a second. Humiliation is still coursing up and down the lengths of your arms in little waves of tingles that tickle weirdly. Can Joel touch underneath? You barely know how okay you are when you’re touching yourself, can you really handle him doing that?

“I don’t know,” you admit.

His chest moves heavy underneath you, a steady beat of up and down that reminds you of those automatic baby rockers. Joel doesn’t move his hand from where it is on you, and he doesn’t look down at you either, thank God. The anxiety, the unsure tension in the room, it’s stunting you from getting what you need. You don’t know what you can and can’t handle, you don’t know your body anymore. Something about this situation, which is already twisted, is only made worse now. Both of you know that much, but Joel seems to know more.

“Do you want to know?”

His voice is quiet still, a rumbling noise that still shudders with nervousness as he says want, like he knows you might say no. Joel is someone you can stand saying no to, you know he’s faced greater disappointments than not helping his best friend’s daughter get off. But, you don’t want to say no. You don’t want to say no, but you don’t want to say yes either.

You just want it to happen.

One of your hands, the one that was reached up to clutch onto his shoulder, trembles as it comes down to guide his hand underneath. Your shirt drapes still, allowing you some modesty, a shield from his eyes.

“‘M not shaved,” you say apologetically, your voice tight from tears. His hand is just sitting there, motionless, and that sense of frustration is back. You don't want this from him, if you wanted something still you'd go back to humping your pillow.

Please, you want to say to him, please show me this can be good, that I can feel good still. Take me somewhere I can't.

He's too hesitant, gently cupping over the somewhat trimmed hairs. Deep down you know why he's hesitating, he feels bad about this, but you're already crying so what's the use in anxiety?

“Joel,” you say his name like a reminder, even though you're just as scared as he is. He responds quickly, nodding and saying “yeah, sorry,” before his hand is finally moving.

“M just gonna start like this, okay sweetie?” His voice swims in your ears, quiet as you rest yourself against his chest again. Joel's movements are slow, practiced, as he rubs just over your lips, applying pressure to your clit in a gentle way. Everything he does is him testing the waters, making sure it's still okay.

“Are you scared?” he asks.

And no, not exactly. You aren't scared of anything in particular, you're just overwhelmed, but that's a lot of words and you can't find the words to put together a sentence right now. You hum something similar to a “kinda” and luckily he gets it.

Finally, he sinks a finger deep enough to actually feel how needy you are. A puff of breath leaves him, and maybe he’s surprised at how wet you are considering how scared you are. Another weird noise escapes your chest as you push your face higher, nose to his adams apple as you try to disappear beneath his jaw. Slowly, he begins to rub over your clit. It’s only one finger, a little overwhelming, and you squirm at the pressure. “Too much,” you complain.

Joel, thankfully, doesn’t seem insulted by this, and instead eases up with the pressure. Your knees start to close together subconsciously, everything in you feels so conflicted and you don’t know if having Joel Miller help you was the best idea. But then he starts talking.

“Don’t want you to focus on my hands, sweet one,” he says. It isn’t self deprecating, but more of a suggestion. “Want you to focus on me, okay? It’s just me.”

Your eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, open. You can see the freckled, tan, skin of his neck. It’s bumpy, and you can see little hairs that stray from his normal beard pattern. There’s a birthmark just below his collarbone that you’ve seen before when his shirt’s neckline slides the wrong way, so you must be tugging on his clothes in some way. You focus on that spot as his voice continues to lull your mind.

“It’s just me, right? Just Joel, you know me, hm?” He asks. It’s as if he wants to keep you in the moment, to keep you as awake as he seems to be. Joel’s head settles down more, his bristled chin resting on the top of your head as his hand works a little more intensely.

You barely even recognize that you’re still crying as you let out a soft “uh-huh.” Big, hot, tears are rolling down your cheeks as you cling to him. His wrist is warm as it rests between your legs, his hand even warmer, but you try and listen to his words.

“Yeah, it’s just Joel. I’m just helpin’ you for a bit, okay baby? You gonna let me help you?” It’s working. You can feel your stomach tightening, and even as tears still spill out, you’re nodding yes. If there were any words you could get out of your mouth you’d tell him yes, yes please help me, but unfortunately nothing will come out. Joel isn’t doing anything specifically technical with his movements here, just rubbing your clit slowly, using any of the wetness that leaks out of you to his advantage as he talks in a smooth tone.

“You’re doing so good, so perfect. You just keep focusin’ on me, alright? I’m right here, I’m holdin’ ya,” he reminds you. Your eyes shut for a moment again, and your hands that were flopped beneath his bent knees are now gripping at your sheets. He notices you squirming and tilts his head down so his cheek rests on your head now. Against your back is his chest, his heart thumping beneath his skin at a steady beat. If he is hard, you don’t know, but you don’t care either. He’s helping you right now, this is about you. It’s about you, tucked under all his warm, soft, body. It’s about how he feels so safe for no reason, and how he’s encouraging this. It’s about how he’s fine with you crying, that he isn’t pulling away or asking if you’re okay. Joel knows it’s okay because he’s making it so, he’s grounding you with words and setting fire with his hands. “Just me and you, me and my brave girl,” he says.

It’s probably the softest orgasm you’ve ever been brought to. A choking feeling crawls up your chest, choking your noises while rushes of blood bloom up your body to your head. It leaves you dizzy, breathless, boneless, and nearly deaf. You can barely hear what Joel is saying, but he’s definitely realized that he’s helped you plenty. Your chest is heaving as he presses a kiss to your scalp, mumbling words about how brave you are, how pleased he is. It’s the first real orgasm you’ve had in a really long time, and maybe he knows, because he doesn’t make you move at all. Joel lets you lay back on him, removes his hand and adjusts your shirt so you’re covered again.

“That’s a brave girl now,” he murmurs softly, “you just rest now.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader smut #dbf!joel #tlou joel miller #tlou hbo #ellie writes

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 4 months ago

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❋ It wasn't your fault - Sweet gentle priest!Javi G x hurt grumpy!Joel Miller Javi G helps Joel to accept his loss.

❋ Perfect - Soft Boyfriend!Joel Miller x Curvy AFAB!reader When you're feeling insecure about your body, Joel knows exactly how to get you through it.

❋ Be Still, My Foolish Heart - Soft Single Dad!Joel Miller x Curvy f!reader A meet cute at the clinic where you work leads to finding the best date you could ask for.

❋ Happy Birthday, Little Finch - Jackson!Joel Miller x AFAB!reader Everyone forgets your birthday but you receive an unexpected invitation (wink) that will change the fate of the day. (No spoilers from the original second game, Jackson is totally made up by me)

❋ Guess - Boyfriend!Joel Miller x AFAB!reader Joel guesses the color of your underwear during a dinner at a restaurant… PWP inspired by Guess by Charli xcx featuring Billie Eilish.

❋ Special Needs - DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader You convince Joel that you can help him get more exercise.

❋ Shirt On - Sub!Joel Miller x Soft dom f!reader Joel getting pegged by you while you wear his plaid shirt. ❋ On a razor's edge - Joel Miller x f!reader Joel helps you shave. There.

❋ It Started Out With a Kiss, How Did It Ended Like This? - Young!Joel Miller x f!reader You meet Joel at a party, everything is fine, he’s beautiful… will it end well?

❋ The Right Ones - Soft Boyfriend!Joel Miller x reader Your period comes early and Joel offers to go to the supermarket for you. (written in a neutral way so every person who menstruates can identify with it)

❋ Slow - Joel Miller x afab!reader Drabble. Just pure smut.

❋ It Feels Like Hope - Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader There's a new parish priest in your parish and he's very different from anyone you've ever met.

❋ We All Need Someone - Jackson!Joel Miller x afab!reader Joel says I love you for the first time.

❋ Hold It - Joel Miller x afab!reader (p!ss kink)

❋ Hold it pt 2 - Joel Miller x afab!reader (p!ss kink)

❋ Do you think I'm your babygirl? I think the fuck not - Joel Miller x afab!reader A casual fling with Joel. He calls you babygirl and you get triggered. For reasons.

❋ Something Rotten - Dark!QZJoel x afab!reader x Dark!QZ Tess Dead dove do not eat - Joel and Tess catch you stealing from their apartment. Consequences are inevitable and cruel.

❋ A heart that hurts is a heart that works - Dark! QZ Joel x afab!reader x Dark! QZ Tess Dead dove do not eat - a sequel for Something Rotten that digs a little bit more into reader's mind.

❋ Waffles for Breakfast - Joel Miller x afab!reader Joel makes you breakfast. I mean, he tries really hard.

❋ You know what I love? - just a melancholic drabble about my fav man

❋ A Good Grade - Joel Miller x afab!reader You always thought you would have a future in the art world, until you met Mr. Miller, your professor who decided to make your life hell. What are you willing to do for a good grade?

❋ Please - Joel Miller x gn!reader Filthy drabble about sucking the man off

❋ Not the real deal - Joel Miller x f!reader Drabble. Joel convinces you that there’s nothing wrong with a bit of grinding.

❋ Punish me - Boss!Joel Miller x f!reader What happens when your boss punishes you but you like it too much? You look for more. And more.

❋ Through his eyes - asked by @/ nonbinairyboi 💗 Joel Miller x gn!reader / Fluff

❋ I want to smell like you - FIL!Joel Miller x f!reader Joel hears you during the night and can’t help himself

❋ Happy to help - Joel Miller x gn!reader You get turned on reading smut in a cafe and someone seems to know exactly what you need

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel miller x you #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller x f!reader

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baronessvonglitter · 2 months ago

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I read so many fics over the holidays and found great new (well, new to me) authors. Starting next month I'll be doing monthly fic recs instead because whoa.. this is a lot ❤️

Please take time to read these stories, and others by these creative and beautiful people 💫 And mind the tags, as the majority of these blogs are 18+ and come with their own warnings.

dividers by @plum98 👑

Joel Miller

Borrowed Time by @aurorawritestoescape ~ Joel x f!reader

Darkest Desires by @myownwholewildworld ~ Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader.

Fade Into You by @probablyreadinsmut ~ Joel x Afab! Reader

Girl Dinner by @slimybeth69 ~ kidnapped!Joel x isolated&unhinged&potentially crazy!reader

A good grade by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Perv Art Professor!Joel x afab!reader

Guilty Pleasure by @for-a-longlongtime ~ dbf!Joel x reader

A Hell of a Morning by @aurorawritestoescape ~ Stepdad!Joel x f!reader

It feels like hope by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Hot Priest!Joel x f!reader

Lock the Gate by @almostfoxglove ~ Joel x f!reader

The Older One by @frannyzooey ~ Joel x f!reader

Overloaded by @katiexpunk ~ Joel and Tommy Miller X fem!Reader

Pregame Play by @joelmillerisapunk ~ Dbf!Joel x reader

Seeing Pink by @gutsby ~ Joel x Reader

Texas Red by @studioghibelli ~ Joel x reader

this one thing you did by @joelscruff ~ Joel x f!reader

Three Strikes by @maiamore ~ Joel x f!reader

Unwrapped by @sunshinehaze1 ~ Joel x f!reader (f. Marcus Acacius & Lucilla Aurelius)

The Warden by @arcanefox207 ~ GameWarden!Joel x F!Reader

you got me thinkin' nonsense by @joelmillerisapunk ~ Dbf!Joel x F!reader

Dave York

In Vino Veritas by @yxtkiwiyxt ~ dave x f!reader

The Lonely Space Between Floors by @morallyinept ~ Dave x F!Reader

One Day at a Time by @drewharrisonwriter ~ Dave x Female Reader

A Quiet Neighborhood by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Dave x f!reader

The Road Not Taken by @guiltyasdave ~ Dave x f!reader

Under False Pretenses by @joelalorian ~ stepdad!dave x f!reader

Javier Pena

How could you love somebody like me? by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ f!reader x Javier

Lost and Found by @oliveksmoked ~ Javier x f!reader

A New Year's Distraction by @lotusbxtch ~ Javier + f!Reader

Pump by @morallyinept ~ Javier x GN!Reader

Marcus Pike

Merry Christmas, baby by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Marcus P x f!reader

Sign Here, Please by @inept-the-magnificent ~ Marcus P X f!Reader

Dieter Bravo

A Better Man by @drewharrisonwriter ~ Dieter x reader

Din Djarin

Best Kept Secret by @lincolndjarin ~ bodyguard!din x princess!reader

Pero Tovar

Baron Tovar Takes a Wife by @604to647 ~ Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero x fem!reader

Confession by @sawymredfox ~ Pero x fem able-bodied reader

Marcus Acacius

Searching for the Stars Pt. 2 by @the-mandawhor1an ~ Marcus A x f!Reader

Frankie Morales

Extra cream and sugar by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ Frankie x f!reader

Multi/Other

Blackmail by @milla-frenchy ~ Javier Pena x fem reader x Joel Miller

Cosmic Love by @kedsandtubesocks ~ Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

Datura by @suzdin ~ Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York

Don't say a word if this word is not "please" by @itwasntimethatdidit40 ~ General!Marcus Acacius X slave trader!Javier Peña

Fuckboy by @sizzlingcloudmentality ~ unnamed ppu character x f!reader

Paris, Texas by @almostempty ~ Joel Miller x Javier Pena x f!reader

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 1 year ago

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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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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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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 · 1 year 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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devilmademewriteit · 2 years ago

Text

If You Lie Down With Me

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

summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.

warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).

word count: 6.5k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !

don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!

(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)

—

“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”

— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’

—

Fuck.

Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.

Right. What was his name?

Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?

Ah, who cares.

If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.

You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.

Huh — Not bad.

You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.

Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.

After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.

You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.

“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.

He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”

Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.

After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.

Probably sourcing for his clothes.

He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”

His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.

He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.

“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”

Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.

“I asked if you wanted to.”

Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.

You’re making problems for me, girl.

“J’s get out.”

J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.

Shit.

There goes the afternoon.

Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.

Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.

But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.

—

Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.

Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.

Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).

The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.

No, getting him alone was essential.

A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.

This is it.

You slip through the door.

At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.

Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”

His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.

You swallow before responding. “Yes.”

It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.

You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.

“So, what was his name?”

He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.

Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“Josh.”

Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“Warmer.”

“J-J-something—”

“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”

“I need the pill.”

It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.

You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.

He stares. You stare back.

Fuck.

It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…

You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?

The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.

Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.

Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…

“Mine. Tonight.”

It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.

“Morning,” he throws your way.

A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.

You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.

Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:

“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”

The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.

That only lasts a minute.

Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.

Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.

Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.

Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.

Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.

—

At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.

Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.

(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)

Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.

Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.

Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.

It does.

He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.

“Window,” You offer.

He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.

Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.

Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.

The door shuts behind you.

You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.

Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.

But what about it, now that you were alone and older?

Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…

“Nervous?”

Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.

“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”

He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:

“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”

Oh.

You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.

“No.”

You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.

What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?

Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.

“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.

The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.

“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”

He gestures to the bag.

A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.

“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.

Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”

Oof.

On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.

I’ll play that hand.

Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?

So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”

He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”

Ouch.

“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you mean, bullshit?”

Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.

The man doesn’t deign to respond.

Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.

How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.

Not Joel. Never Joel.

He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.

It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.

You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.

“Yellow ones,” he says.

“I know what they look like,” you retort.

“‘Course you do.”

He moves faster than he should be able to.

One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.

“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.

“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”

Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.

“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”

You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.

“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”

Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.

Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”

“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”

He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.

“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.

After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.

A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.

“Alright.”

And he lets go.

Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.

“Get down on your knees.”

Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.

His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.

He speaks again.

“Show me your tongue, angel.”

The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.

Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.

Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.

When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.

“Close.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?

It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.

What kind of game is this, Miller?

Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.

“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”

And that’s it: your cue to get lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).

He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.

Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:

“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”

Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.

You barely breathe.

He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.

Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?

Right?

Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.

—

For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.

You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.

He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.

Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”

Everyone’s gonna be there.

Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.

Hope blooms through your chest.

Do your worst, Miller.

—

“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”

A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.

You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.

There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.

“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.

A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”

The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.

She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”

For that, she receives a quizzical glance.

Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”

“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”

As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —

“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”

Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.

You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”

And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”

This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.

“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”

It’s as if she’d screamed it.

The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.

The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.

“I need some air.”

You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.

You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…

You’re practically begging for trouble.

Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.

A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.

And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.

“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.

He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.

“You’re violent,” he says flatly.

He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”

That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’

Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”

“You should’ve told me.”

And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.

And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?

“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.

You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.

“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”

Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.

“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”

He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”

It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.

“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”

Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.

Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —

“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —

“Might as well take advantage of them.”

He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.

“Joel—”

But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.

“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.

You mewl pathetically into his palm.

Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.

“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”

“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.

His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.

When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.

And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.

“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.

At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.

He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.

You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.

“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”

He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.

Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.

“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.

He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —

“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”

And you both know exactly where that is.

After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.

Christ, he’s huge.

He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.

With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.

But Joel doesn’t allow it.

He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —

The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.

“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”

Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.

And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.

Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.

He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.

The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.

“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.

“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.

He doesn’t let up.

“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”

You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.

You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.

“Am I makin’ you come?”

You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.

He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.

“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”

His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”

And then —

He stops.

You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.

“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”

He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.

“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”

It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.

You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.

Then, his voice softens.

“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”

And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.

Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.

He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.

As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.

“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —

“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”

You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”

He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”

God, he’s beautiful from down here.

You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.

“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”

An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.

There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.

It’s better than the Plan B.

You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.

Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.

Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.

He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.

“Still mad at me?” He asks.

You’d be crazy to say yes.

“Only for pulling out.”

You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.

Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.

You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.

Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.

“You gonna be smart?”

What ever could he mean?

Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?

Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.

You cross your arms.

“No.”

He sighs.

Well, looks like things are already back to normal.

His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”

You frown.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”

“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”

With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.

And more and more.

“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”

It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.

You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”

You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.

“Try your best not to find out, angel.”

With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.

A feeling you’d chase.

—

Put your red boots on

Baby, giddy up

Baby wants a dance

Baby gets her way

Dreamy nights

Talk to me with that whiskey breath

Twirl me twice

I'll treat you like a holiday

And don't say you're over me

When we both know that you ain't

Don't say you're over me

Baby, it's already too late

Just do what you do best with me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like a ballerina, super high

Dance me all around the moon

Light me up like the 4th of July

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When we both know that you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

When you lie down right next to me

Get your jacket on

Be a gentleman

Get into your truck

And pick me up at eight

'Cause we were built for

The long haul freight train

Burnt by fire

Without trial like a stowaway

And don't say you're over me

When they all know that you ain't

If you lay down right next to me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like ballerina super high

Dance me all around the moon

Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When they all know that you're lying

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

When you lie down right next to me

—

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mushgloomz · 3 months ago

Text

Modern Love

dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

• A/N: you asked and i shall provide. presenting my new magnum opus, dbf!Joel x reader slow burn realness - i want this shit to last, so it will be a series (apologies if you were hoping for a one-off, i can't bring myself to do it). also probs good to mention that this is a shameless self-insert fic bc us british girlies need some JM love okay? title and chapters inspired by 80s songs bc i'm insatiable.

• Warnings: no outbreak au, language, alcohol consumption, pet names, reader is afab, british and has hair - no other physical descriptions (and the british thing is only mentioned in passing dw).

• Word Count: approx 2.5k

1: Let’s Hear It for the Boy

You pottered around the kitchen, the countertops left messy in your wake; you weren’t a baker by any stretch of the imagination, but you’d tasked yourself off with making a birthday cake. If it came out edible, you’d gladly consider it a successful endeavor.

It wasn’t your birthday, nor your father’s - ever since your parents’ divorce and your father’s subsequent mid-life crisis move to the States, you’d lived with your dad in Austin, Texas. Both of you had been there for the best part of six years. You’d visit your mother back in the UK periodically, usually over the summer, and return just in time for the neighbourhood’s favourite celebration: Joel Miller’s birthday BBQ.

Joel and your father had become fast friends; meeting at a trader’s warehouse by chance, and bonding over their appreciation for a cold one in front of the TV. Both men were reserved by nature and were single fathers to their kids - that being yourself and Sarah, Joel’s daughter.

You ducked your head, peeking into the oven to check on the progress of your passion project. Nothing looked burnt as far as you could see and, much to your surprise, a pleasant smell was emanating from the cake tins and wafting around the kitchen.

When your father had asked why you were so insistent on making a cake for his best friend, you fell short of an answer. The reality was that, since you’d known him, Joel had been at the centre of near enough every fantasy you’d had. He was hot, funny, and surprisingly kind given his reputation for being a bit of a grouch.

You’d almost developed a sort of secondary friendship with Joel, branching off from that of him and your father. He’d ask for you to ‘babysit’ Sarah for him, even though she was sixteen and arguably more capable at taking care of herself than you were. A fledgling friendship grew between her and yourself each time you visited; letting her talk about the drama at her highschool.

Another ten minutes passed before you finally conceded and opened the oven door, a waft of steam hitting your face as you did so. From what you could see and smell, the labour of love had been successful. You pulled the tins from the rack, and set them on the side to cool. You’d deal with them later - now, it was time for you to get yourself sorted.

You hopped into the shower, rinsing batter from the ends of your hair, scrubbing at every inch of your body. Despite the painfully obvious fact that Joel Miller was not the kind of man to date someone half his age, you preened and polished yourself until you were silky smooth and quite literally glowing - you opted to live in hope, after all.

After your shower you traipsed into your room, slumping onto your bed, still wrapped in a towel. You scrolled through your phone aimlessly, reading through messages that you'd been sent whilst you'd been distracted by your newfound baking talent.

tell the DILF I say happy birthday ;)

The message from your best friend back in the UK elicited a small laugh. There was something pleasantly nostalgic about tittering over someone entirely unattainable; it reminded you of being back at school, taking it in turns to gush over whatever boyband member took your fancy at the time.

Enjoy the party today, don't make a tit of yourself xx

Your mother knew you all too well. In all fairness, she had dealt with the consequences of your drunken teenage years most of the time, so it made sense. You scrolled through a few more generic messages; the work group-chat, a discount code from some mailing list, and...

Excited to see you kid :)

Oh. Oh. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Joel was excited to see you. He probably sent the same message to several other people, but you relished in the attention nonetheless. If anything, it spurred you on to finally get dressed and get back to the cake downstairs.

You slipped on a summer dress; it was light and airy, perfect for the brutally hot weather. It was ankle length, a soft pink and white paisley-style print over the soft cotton, and a split to the thigh over the right leg. It hugged where it needed to, and honestly? You looked fucking fantastic.

Trotting down the stairs and back into the kitchen, you groaned under your breath. The mess that you'd made whilst baking was worse when you saw it with fresh eyes. The cakes were cooled now on the wire rack that you had left them on; your dad would just have to dodge the splodges of batter and eggshell scattered across the countertops.

After a futile attempt at decorating, you gazed down at the cake. How you'd managed to cock up the icing this much was beyond you, but it would have to do. Your dad was waiting impatiently by the front door, grumbling under his breath, a six pack of beers and a card tucked under his arm. You grabbed the cake, wrapped it in tinfoil, and headed out, balancing it on a platter as you and your father made the short walk to the Miller household.

It was only a few minutes before you'd arrived, stepping up onto the porch behind your father, allowing him to knock whilst your hands were full. A moment passed, and then the door opened. A wide grin and sparkling brown eyes revealed themselves; a charcoal grey t-shirt clung to tan arms. It took all of your self-restraint to not gawp every time you saw Joel - he just got better and better.

Joel clapped a hand on your father's shoulder, mumbling something and essentially shoving him through the threshold of the door. Then his eyes turned to yours, glancing quickly down at the tinfoil wrapped cake in your hands, before speaking with a chuckle.

"Run outta wrapping paper, huh kid?"

You felt your cheeks warm. "Bold of you to assume this is for you, huh Joel?", you quipped teasingly. Much to your delight, your retort elicited another gravelly chuckle from the man. He leant against the doorframe, and you raised an eyebrow, trying not to stare at his bicep. "Well, are you gonna invite me in?", you questioned with a smirk. Joel stood upright, shrugging playfully as he did so.

"'Spose I'd better. Go on, get your ass inside kid."

The giggle that escaped your mouth was entirely involuntary as you ducked under Joel's arm and into the house. A fair few people were milling around indoors, but a majority of the guests were situated in the backyard. You made your way through the back door after perching the cake on the kitchen table.

A few people turned and gave polite waves when you stepped outside, others started their beeline toward you to exchange mundane pleasantries - ‘you’re looking very well!’, and ‘how’s that job of yours?’, and the dreaded ‘have you found a nice boy yet?’. You rinsed and repeated your answers for each person, smiling politely.

Sarah was sat on the grass with a friend; your father was swigging from a bottle of beer and laughing animatedly amongst a group of middle-aged men. Your heart nearly leapt of your chest when someone tapped you on the shoulder, causing you to spin around quickly, eyes wide. Tommy Miller, Joel’s younger brother, stood with a smug grin plastered over his face.

“Well ain’t this a surprise? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a drink in your hand at these get-togethers.”

You scoffed, feigning offence at the all too real accusation. “Big talk for a man that isn’t offering to get me a drink”, you retorted, smirking. Tommy threw his hands up, palms toward you in mock defense, laughing.

“Whoa now! I’m a fine southern gentleman, ‘course I’ll get you a drink. All you had to do was ask, doll.”

The conversations you had with Tommy consisted of little more than playful flirting; sometimes you wondered if he was actually flirting with you, but seeing how he acted around women he was actively trying to pick up resolved any doubts. Any fire and sass was quelled, and he would become almost meek and reserved - the embodiment of flushed cheeks and a coy smile. It was nice being able to know where you stood with him, especially since you didn’t have a fucking clue when it came to Joel.

~~~~

As the hours passed and alcohol swilled around the mouths of every adult in sight, the polite affair that was once a celebratory BBQ had devolved into a raucous cacophony of laughter as a very drunk Joel lured everyone inside the house, stumbling as he went. You were drunk, but not to the same degree; with everyone settled inside, you decided it was the ideal moment to bring out the cake.

You peeled the tinfoil from the confection, grimacing slightly as you looked at it once more - even with beer goggles, it still looked akin to a toddler’s cooking class attempt rather than a 50 year old man’s birthday cake. You stuck a single candle in the centre and used the lighter you had stolen from Tommy earlier that afternoon to light it, before lifting it carefully and carrying it toward the lounge.

As you entered you nodded once at your dad, who was just sober enough to understand your signal, and started to lead the group into a pitchy chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. You grinned as you walked over to where Joel was sat, setting the cake down on the coffee table in front of him before backing up, snapping a photo of the birthday boy as he held a hand to his chest, a soft smile on his face. He looked at you as he leant down to blow out his candle, mouthing ‘thank you’ before blowing out the flame.

“Y’all sure know how to make a man feel like one lucky son of a bitch. Thanks for comin’ everyone.”

Joel chuckled, smiling widely as he spoke. You glanced at the faces around you; the single women of the neighbourhood doting on his every word, a couple of the married ones too. Your dad held up his beer, calling for a cheers. Picking up your own bottle, you held it up in Joel’s direction, beaming at him as others held up their own drinks.

People began to engage in their own conversations again, shifting and mingling amongst themselves as more drinks were poured. Joel sidled up beside you, standing over you as you cut slices of cake.

“You make this yourself, sweetheart? Just for me?”

Heart thumping in your chest, cheeks burning, you nodded with a shy smile. Before you could raise the knife again, a thick finger swept up some of the icing on the cake’s border. You turned around and watched as Joel put the same finger in his mouth, shooting you a wink as he pulled the digit out with a satisfying pop. He leant in close, so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath melding with his cologne.

“Mm. Tastes as good as you look in that pretty lil’ dress.”

Like a fish out of water, your mouth dropped open ever so slightly and you inhaled sharply. Before you could even comprehend what had just happened, Joel had turned away, shouting out to someone setting up karaoke by the television. Did that really just happen? You must have been hearing things, surely? You considered pouring the rest of your drink away, but fuck it; if you were hearing things like that, it would be worth the hangover.

Karaoke was a shambles, as expected. This wasn't the first birthday BBQ that Joel had relished in the karaoke machine being dragged out - despite his usually very collected exterior, he loved to sing, especially once he had a few drinks in him. It was never the song choice you'd expect someone like him to go for either - the man had a soft spot for 80s music and always requested a power ballad.

Perched on the arm of the sofa, you had a front row seat to Joel's latest performance; in fact, you were one of the few people actually paying any attention. It felt like he was singing to you, the way he crooned the words to 'Don't Dream It's Over', his eyes glancing over your form every once in a while. God, he was gorgeous.

The song concluded and you couldn't resist snapping another photo of the man as he took a swig from his bottle in front of you. It was one of the few occasions that you could get away with it, under the guise of taking them for memory's sake. Joel caught you, and smirked as he lowered his bottle.

Your dress had slipped from one of your shoulders a tad, and before you could lift it once more, Joel had stepped forward. He took the soft cotton between his fingers, letting the tips of them graze your shoulder ever so gently as he slowly shifted it back into place. Your eyes were wide, gazing up at him, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip just so. Joel hummed, low and rumbling, barely audible.

"Sweet girl... better keep that tongue in your mouth 'fore I forget who I am."

Swallowing hard, mouth running dry... did he actually just say that? Did he mean to say it in such a sultry tone? "I-I, uh...", your response was unintelligible at best as you stumbled over the flurry of thoughts in your head. The lounge had since cleared out; Joel chuckled softly under his breath. With a tender touch, he raised a hand to your cheek; a calloused thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

Your lips parted slightly as your breath caught in your throat. Every beat of your heart reverberated in your head. Joel leaned down, still smirking, as he pressed his lips against yours. A breathy gasp left your lips as his moved firmly against yours for just a few moments. He pulled away sooner than you had wanted, leaving you sat there with your chest rising and falling heavily.

Joel's jaw clenched and he scrunched his eyes shut as he stood in front of you, dragging a hand down his face with a sigh. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like an apology, shaking his head ever so slightly, before he turned to leave. You watched as he left the room, stomach turning all the while. Nausea rose up inside you, and as you made a sprint for the bathroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was your fault he had responded in such a way. Shit.

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