#get me the fuck out of texas please

[the-physicality]

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[gutsby]

Bigger in Texas

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel won’t fit.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Size kink (seriously, don’t read if you hate big dicks / disgusting descriptions) Penis and pussy pronouns. Virginity loss. Age gap. Praise kink. Daddy kink. Joel ‘hung like a fucking horse’ Miller is a soft dom and also a good teacher. Competence kink (?)

Note: Somebody made a fic challenge to use penis pronouns, and I can’t for the life of me remember who it was. If y’all find them please show them this and tell them I love their brain 🫠

Update: @sp00kymulderr you’re a legend for this. Dick pronouns are engrained in my brain, and I’m forever grateful.

Word count: 2.3k

This wasn’t the life Joel Miller had pictured for himself.

The dead coming back to roam the world and eradicate most of its population, for one. The cold. Finding his baby brother way out here in Wyoming with a wife and a child on the way. The looks he was getting these days. It’s not like he’d asked to get mixed up with a girl your age. It just happened. And since damn near every-fucking-thing that had “happened” to him since outbreak day fifteen years back had been bottom of the barrel, full-blown nightmare territory, the second he saw a good thing fumble across his path, he’d seized it—you.

You, who were young enough to be his daughter.

You, who’d never seen a man fully before meeting him.

You, who hadn’t squeezed so much as a finger in herself.

But much like his past, Joel Miller was a sordid and sick kind of man, and he had the cock to prove it: presently weeping precum at the site of your softest, tightest hole, smearing the pearly-white slick through your folds with a sound so sweet it was nauseating. Begging for entrance.

“Oughta have a boy your age pop your cherry, kid.”

It was simple.

“Ain’t right havin’ a man my age all in your guts.”

And true.

The head of his cock made another wet, sickening noise through your folds, and as though instigated by the sound, your eyes flitted to the source. You smiled.

“Probably. But I want you,” you answered. Soft.

Joel got harder, and he hadn’t thought that was possible. His gaze joined yours, and the sight nearly finished him.

Beneath him, your legs had spread wider, showcasing that perfectly glistening seam alongside the head of his cock. He looked huge. Or you looked small. Or perhaps it was both, and he was old, and he really shouldn’t be doing this at all, but then his hips stuttered a bit and his length pushed in. Joel hissed and seized the headboard.

It wouldn’t even go in. The tip just stretched the rim.

“Baby, fuck—” Joel whimpered.

“He’s so big.”

Three little words from your lips, and it almost did him in.

Again.

You wriggled your hips and flashed another happy grin.

“He wants in, daddy. I can feel him pulsin’ like I am.”

You volleyed a look up to Joel as if to say, ‘So that means we’re ready, right? Will you let me have him?’

And, strangled by guilt as he was, Joel couldn’t resist.

He let his big, bulbous, leaking head sink in the tiniest bit, and he let out a groan. Your walls were so tight. This was him, too—his tip was oversized, just like the rest of him—and when it notched in an inch, Joel could see the pain flash quick in your eyes. His hips moved to retreat.

But then your heels were lifting and digging in his ass, and though strained, your voice made it out, weakly:

“Don’t, daddy. I want him.”

Joel couldn’t dream of refusing.

And his vision blurred more at that word, him.

“I-I know. He wants you too, baby—”

Another quarter-inch.

“—so, so bad.”

“Daddy!”

Joel had to blink to try and wake from his daze. His tip was so warm, hugged so perfect and snug and wet, that he didn’t even realize that was all that fit. He was stuck.

You whimpered again.

“‘S’too big, daddy. Just make him go in.”

Your eyes rolled with indignation and overwhelming pleasure alike, and your hips squirmed again. This time, you tried to nudge him in deeper, but your body simply wouldn’t budge; you’d reached the widest part of him.

“Honey, it’s—”

“Hurtin’! I need you inside me.” you cried, impatient.

“Just takes a little time to get there, darlin’—”

“Well, get to it, then. A tip ain’t enough.”

Joel’s face flushed. He might’ve been forced to bite back a laugh under any other circumstances, but this was your virginity. His bed. Your naked bodies, together, tonight.

He wasn’t about to rush it now and fuck everything up.

“This tip’s about to paint your pretty insides white and make you wait til next week to try again if you keep it up.”

That made you go still.

You shook your head while Joel released the headboard from his grip and took your hip in it instead. He grunted.

“Sweet pea, you gotta see—” he resumed, voice low, “—it won’t feel good for you or me if I just…push right in.”

You sighed, feeling his hold tighten.

“Tongue and fingers only do so much. You gotta learn.”

You whined, digging your feet in deeper when his tip drew back to your entrance. Looking a bit squeamish.

“Be brave…and patient for me.”

From the look in your eyes, Joel could tell you probably hated him right now. That was just fine. He adjusted his hips to a more comfortable place, and then he pinched your hip bone. He nudged you back, and he let you wait.

Then, right when you opened your mouth, he sank in.

Joel thrusted with only his tip, the size of a small lime, and he fucked your hole gently. Back and forth. Shallow.

It did enough. You squeezed both his forearms.

“Oh, daddy.” Your bottom lip trembled as you said it.

With his free hand, Joel smoothed your hair back.

“Yeah, what is it, baby?” he murmured, dulcet as ever, “Thought you said the tip ain’t enough for you, sugar.”

His words came slow. His strokes were delivered quick, though tenderly. Your brain appeared to be in a fog, or a trance, as your chin dipped down toward your chest, and you watched him breach the first inch of you repeatedly.

“Curious little thing.” Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle now.

“He’s so…” you trailed off.

You squeezed his arms, and he squeezed your hip back. He let you watch him fuck you with only his tip, and when your head began to tilt back from the strain, he reached up with his other hand and held the back of your neck. He felt you clench at that, and you both groaned.

“So…big,” you finished, eyes glazed.

“I know.”

This went on for the longest time: Joel stretching the first precious inch of your pussy with the head of himself, you watching and breathing deeply, whimpering occasionally, and him holding at the nape of your neck like a softer touch might lose you to him forever. Was this teaching? When you clenched again, he reckoned it was.

“That’s it, honey. Watch her swallow me.”

“Stretches real pretty for the tip, doesn’t she?”

“Bet she can’t even fit another inch of this cock.”

Suddenly, your head was jerking up under his hold.

Eyes flaring with a hot, juvenile kind of anger: “I can!”

Joel clicked his tongue against the backs of his teeth and pretended not to hear. He also had to feign indifference when your walls tightened and all but choked his head and a wave of new pleasure surged up through his body.

“She can, Joel, I’m serious!”

Another two seconds of this and Joel sensed he might see tears. Though his gaze had trailed up to yours, and the look in his appeared stern, deep down, he was just as quick to want to cave. He just hid it better than you did.

“You think so, sweet pea?”

“I know so. I need it.”

“Need him?”

“Y-Yes.”

How sweet you seemed. How naive you must be.

Joel might’ve been mean, but he wasn’t cruel. He also liked teaching lessons as much as he enjoyed showing you the way, so in the next second, he obliged. He took the last shallow thrust of his tip and sank into your cunt.

As he filled you, you whined. It only took an inch or two.

“Da-a-ddy. Please.”

You must’ve been begging for lenience. Joel retreated.

Then, much to the man’s surprise, you kicked your feet. Not in relief but in protest, shaking your head up at him:

“Put him back. Please. D-Deeper.”

It was as though Joel’s brain had exited through the back of his head and all rational thought escaped him, for the moment. The only voice he heard was yours. It was pleading. And in between your legs, you were soaked.

So drenched to allow him another inch. Then another. Then another. Joel fucked in gently and felt a seismic wave of pleasure seize his limbs—and likely yours, as well. It was as though in two blinks, you’d forgotten the pain altogether. You were suffused with need instead, eyes wincing and lips curling and sounds leaving your throat like an animal in heat. Want him deeper, please.

Joel sawed back and forth with just those five or so inches and made you writhe underneath him. Felt you clamp down on his thick, slippery cock and heard the remnants of your shared arousal making sounds as your body accepted him. Stretching wider. Getting wetter. Bringing him closer to the edge with every breath.

“She’s doin’…so good f’me,” Joel told you, brainless.

His thumb drifted to your clit. He rubbed it gently. No sooner had he finished the first circle around that nub when your hips were stirring again—this time incensed.

“Daddy.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, thumb insistent. When his eyes met yours, he was surprised to find them wet this time. Tears pooling and streaking down to your temples while your body bounced gently beneath his thrusts. A whimper trembled out, and Joel slowed.

He could tell from that look you didn’t want him to stop, though. It just felt so good. So, instead of dropping his pace too much, Joel cupped your chin in one hand, and with the other, he kept thumbing at your clit. Humming.

“Poor thing’s never had something this big in ‘er, huh?”

You shook your head. Cried a little more.

Joel kissed the tears on one side, lips smiling as he did.

“I can tell, baby. But she’s taking it so well.”

“Y-Yeah?”

His hips sped up a little. The thrusts were still shallower than they normally would be, given your state, but they seemed to be working well enough. You winced again.

Joel kissed the other side of your face to take more tears.

“Uh-huh,” he answered, “Openin’ up real nice for daddy.”

It was like his words worked as well as his thumb on your clit. You whimpered again, lips parting a little wider now, and the sound that came out was as desperate and feverish and fuck-drunk as Joel had ever heard it.

“S-Say it again,” you pleaded.

“Say what?”

“That he’s…stretchin’ me open. Makin’ me his.”

The soft, slick resonance between your body and his seemed to amplify even more—you were getting wetter, and Joel’s thrusts all but shook the bed with their force.

His eyes darkened when he felt you tighten again.

“Yeah? You like hearin’ all the filthy fuckin’ things your daddy’s doing? The way he’s breakin’ you in for him?”

You nodded. Your throat constricted with a moan.

And, just when a fresh set of tears seemed to be close on the horizon, Joel lowered himself to you. He held you to his chest, hips working relentlessly, and he watched your face screw up in pleasure. A trace of pain surfaced again, but it was soothed with a kiss. Joel grinned against you.

Between your thighs, his cock was throbbing with a feeling just as big. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. Hurting and aching and needing as you were, he had to make sure that you would cum first.

When his cock grazed a fleshy, sensitive patch inside your walls, he knew it wouldn’t take much. He went on:

“C’mon, sugar. Daddy’s split you open on his cock so nice, least you can do is cum for him. Can you do that?”

His nose brushed yours. His thrusts sped up. You nodded, quickly, and when he shifted in the bed with his thumb still on your clit and his lips and his stubble grazing your mouth with every push of himself, he felt it.

It was a small pulse, at first.

Joel thought you might be adjusting—clenching—again, when the lips that were trembling against his own parted more. Your arms wound around his neck, and suddenly the throb of your walls around his member got tighter and tighter and tighter. One more second and your cunt might’ve squeezed the hot, sticky seed right out of his body and flooded your insides with it, but then came release. The ‘o’ of your mouth let out a shriek, at last, and your body went soft around him, beneath him, whining in turn, ‘Daddy, daddy, please’ while the muscles once taut and unflinching gave him reprieve. Fluttering repeatedly.

Joel fucked you through it. He talked you through it.

He stroked your hair, and he held you tight. Called you his sweetheart, pretty thing, perfect girl, you’re doin’ so good f’me. Keep going. That’s right, cum all over daddy. He told you to take what you needed, and without another word, he felt just that. Your cunt spasmed around him, and you consumed every inch he gave and drank every drop of spend shooting out in thick spurts.

You fell boneless on the bed when all was said and done.

You looked happy, and that made Joel even happier.

He stroked your cheek, and you leaned into it, clearly drained while your gaze held his in a weak sort of look.

It was soft. Loving, even. It could’ve been romantic.

Then Joel’s hand slipped down to the nape of your neck again. Your muscles were limp, like all the rest of you, but somehow, he was able to hold you up. Tilt your chin a bit.

Make you peer down between your shaking legs, where his cock was still sheathed inside you—partly, anyway.

Your eyes widened. Joel grinned.

“You did great, baby. Ready for the other half of him?”

can y’all believe this image is what inspired this fic HA

it’s only Thursday i’m sorry 😔

[threefeline]

Like we literally have a sliver of a chance at getting Blue Georgia and Blue North Carolina in this years election and genuinely it feels like people are just willing to throw that out. Hell, even Texas over the past 20 years has had a BIG shift in voting habits.

The last 20 years in Texas ^^^

Georgia ^^^

And fucking NORTH CAROLINA. Look at how close this margin is. This is absolutely batshit insane to me. They are now basically swing states.

Please

Register to Vote

[bitalis]

so things have just gotten so much worse here aha

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[f1amour]

˖ ࣪ 𖥔 BED CHEM

pairing | charles leclerc x singer!reader

face claim | olivia rodrigo

content warnings | some social media au, birthday sex, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, praise kink, soft dom!charles, edging, dirty talk, public sex, restroom sex, car sex —18+ only, minors do not interact

authors note | another belated birthday story but hope you guys enjoy!! maybe this’ll bring good luck for todays race :))

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liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, lilymhe, and 1,938,733 others

yourusername my everything. my world. all in one. i will always be thankful to be so lucky that i have found a love that will last a lifetime. meeting you was like listening to a song for the first time and knowing it would be my favorite. it’s you today and tomorrow, forever and always, in another world and universe; it’ll always be you. happiest of birthdays my charlie. i love you. 💌🧸

view commmets below…

user1 your honor i love them

user2 “meeting you was like listening to a song for the first time knowing it would be my favorite.” FUCK I WANT A LOVE LIKE THEIRS

charles_leclerc mon amour. mon soleil. ma lune. mon étoile. merci de m'aimer et d'être mon meilleur ami. tu es le meilleur cadeau que je puisse jamais avoir. je t'aime maintenant et dans tous les univers. [my love. my sun. my moon. my star. thank you for loving me and being my best friend. you are the best gift i could ever have. i love you now and in every universe.]

yourusername charlie🥹🥹 i love you so bad, baby. (thank you google translate🤞🏼)

user3 the best gift i could ever have…i aspire to have someone love me like this one day

arthur_leclerc you guy make me sick.

yourusername applications open someone please date my brother in law so he could stop third wheeling with us!!

arthur_leclerc fuck you i got 200 message requests now because of this🖕🏼

yourusername ur welcome 😙

user4 the relationship she has with his family is so cute and hilarious😭 the fact she calls them in laws🥹

lilymhe alex is crying after seeing your post.

yourusername mission accomplished 🫡 thank you and alex_albon for setting us up 🫶🏼

alex_albon okay so when is the wedding?

charles_leclerc soon😉

yourusername YOU HAVENT EVEN ASKED ME?!

charles_leclerc i know but soon…i know you’ll be my wife

lilymhe great he’s crying again

user4 i can’t believe they’ve been dating four years now it’s CRAZY

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yourusername posted three stories!

slide 1/3 surprise!! my new single bed chem is out now dedicated to my favorite libra

slide 2/3 bed chem music video out at midnight, can you guess who the special guest is?

slide 3/3 the day that we met he was wearing this white jacket and now four years later he wore it once again for the music video…hope you guys enjoy it as much as i did ;)

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AUSTIN, TEXAS. 2024.

“what if someone hears us?” you breathe out shakily while charles’ lips are attached to your neck. his hands digging into your hips giving it a soft squeeze before he spins your around almost bending you over the counter and facing the mirror.

“has that ever stopped us? come on, baby. it is my birthday after all and you said i can have whatever i want. what i want is you,” his fingers slip under your skirt, pushing your panties to the side, “i think you want it too. you’re soaked for me.” charles kisses your shoulders as he adds two fingers, slowly stretching you out with your eyes connected to his through the mirror.

“remember our first date? you were practically begging for me to fuck you on the table right there in front of everyone. but only i get to ever see you like this, a mess for me,” he taunts, fingers moving deep inside of you, curling against your g-spot as he pushes your face to the side pulling you in for a deep kiss until you were both gasping for air.

“charlie, wanna cum…please,” you choke out, already feeling close with your walls fluttering around him. you push yourself against him already feeling his cock through his pants, you needed him.

"uh uh, baby," he purrs, "tonight is my night so i want you to cum all over my cock. before that i wanna come in your pretty mouth. on your knees, cherie.” he slowly pulls his fingers out and you moan at the loss of fullness before he’s tapping your ass signaling to kneel on the cold tiles.

charles’ eyes grow darker as you sink down on your knees and pull his pants down, his cock springs free. without notice you wrap your lips around the tip of him and his pre-cum coats your tongue as you take him further.

“mon dieu bébé, ta bouche est tellement parfaite. merde,” his hand tangle in your hair and around the back of your neck. your hand wraps around whatever doesn’t fit in your mouth and you speed up your movements, “shit. ‘m gonna cum mon amour.” he groans as you hollow your cheeks around him.

with just a few more strokes before thick ropes of cum fill your mouth, charles’ head thrown back in pleasure catching his breath before helping you up. he wipes the tears off your face gives you a sweet kiss teeth clashing as you both smile, “i love you so much.” laughter now fills the restroom as you jinx each other with the sentence.

his hand intertwined with yours after fixing each other’s appearance you walk out of the restroom and go back to sit down at the dinner where some of the other drivers and their partners were seated.

“fucking finally! you filthy whores we’ve been waiting 20 minutes for you guys. couldn’t you wait until after dessert!” max curses at the two of you and you give him the finger before sitting next to charles and lily right beside you,

“i got my dessert already.” you chuckle leaning your head on charles, his hand resting on your thigh. the rest of the group doesn’t mind, seeing the two of you with a smitten smile obviously enjoying yourselves but their faces turn sour at max’s next comment, “yeah, a salty one.”

“max!”

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after dinner you all headed out to your own cars and to the club where the real birthday celebrations would start for charles. however, you had one small wish to make on your behalf despite it not being your day. “don’t pout at me, baby. what’s wrong?” charles rubbed his thumb on your knee as he drove to the next destination.

“what’s wrong? you didn’t let me cum! i gave you a fucking blowjob with my knees on a filthy floor and i don’t get to cum? it’s your birthday but…i’m mad. i gave you a song, an entire album this year, i gave you leo, and what do i get? nothing!” you cross your arms and push his hand away.

“my love, is that why you’re upset? fine,” he takes a quick turn into an empty parking lot and you look at him confused because this certainly wasn’t the club you had booked. “charles, this isn’t the—.” you stop when he undoes your seatbelt and places you on his lap.

“have your way with me, ma chérie,” he leans in pulling you into a kiss, his hands on your face as you deepen the kiss and roll your hips against his causing him to let out a groan. clothes are quickly shrugged off to where your aching pussy rubs against his hardened cock.

his cock slipping in as you let yourself moan as he stretches you, “you take me so well," he grunts. "that’s my girl, just relax for me. gonna give you exactly what you want.”

now fully seated on charles, cock deep inside of you as he holds your face in his hands, “j'aime toujours à quel point tu es jolie quand je t'ai comme ça. [always love how pretty you look when i have you like this].” he grunts letting you rock your hips against him.

“still don’t know what you’re saying but i love how you talk to me in french,” you press your lips to his as he squeezes your hips. he thrusts up meeting your movements as well causing you both to let out loud moans as the car shakes, “tu me prends si bien, chérie. [you take me so well, sweetheart.]”

"don't stop, please, don't stop." you whimper feeling one of his hands pull away from your hip but gasp when it goes to your clit adding pressure to it, “charlie,” your moans coming out loud and needy, grabbing onto his shoulder and fucking yourself harder on him.

charles can’t help but let out a string of curse words mixed in french and italian. you have no idea what he is saying other than his usual pet names for you but it has you close to your orgasm and he could tell, “that’s it, baby. taking my cock so well give me a little more and you can cum.” he grabs you close to him your chest pressed against his as he forces himself up into you hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.

“cum with me, pretty girl.” a small nod and you capture his lips in yours letting out a moan against his soft lips as you reach your orgasm. a loud groan escapes his chest as he empties himself inside you.

you let a few minutes pass as you both catch your breaths and share a few sweet kisses, “best birthday ever, from my favorite gift ever. i love you,” charles smiles at you, his cock still buried deep inside you making the moment much more intimate for you, “i you, charlie.” you kiss his nose which makes him let out a low chuckle.

“we should probably get going before—.” as charles speaks up about heading to the club some bright car lights shine in your faces causing you to wince. you jump up startled when you hear a knock on the window, “fuck! mon amour…still inside you,” charles groans feeling your walls clench around his cock.

“you guys have been gone for an hour! we get it you like to fuck but we couldn’t get into the club until you arrived. i need a fucking drink!” max yells through the window stressed as if you had missed an importat meeting. in his eyes, you did.

however, his little tantrum caused the two of you to throw yourselves into a fit of giggles as he curses in dutch the only words you can understand are gin & tonic. “best birthday.” charles repeats, his loving smile directed at you. his best gift ever.

[competitioneddie]

Respectfully nodding along.

can i say something probably controversial

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

[liminalmemories21]

911 - Ficlet

"You know what I'm really tired of," he says when Tommy answers the door, pushing past him into the house he's only ever been to a handful of times, but whose address he still has saved in his GPS as Tommy (home).

"Please, come in.  Make yourself at home," Tommy says sourly.  "Evan, what are you doing here?"

He makes a beeline for Tommy's fridge, and god he always has such pretentious fucking taste in beer.  Good, but pretentious.  And he's such a prissy bitch when you call him out on it.  He'd loved that about him.  Loves that.

He grabs one at random, hunting for the bottle opener in the drawer next to the sink.  "Maddie thinks I need to learn how to be alone again."  Takes a swallow.  Tommy just stands there in the doorway, staring at him, not moving.  "She's wrong.  Couldn't manage to graduate from college, but I've got a fucking PhD in how to be alone."  Takes another swig, and then pauses to look at the label, but this is actually really good.  "What I need to learn is how to get someone to want to stay.

He looks at Tommy, who's still frozen in the doorway.

"She agrees with you, by the way.  Also thinks I'm in love with Eddie."  Takes another drink and then goes to root through Tommy's pantry for the doritos he knows are there somewhere, because Tommy won't admit it, but he loves them.

Makes a low triumphant noise when he finds them.  Takes a handful and holds the bag out ot Tommy, "You want some?"  Tommy shakes his head mutely.

He shrugs, "Your loss."  Crunches his way though a few.  "You're both wrong, you know.  Even if it would be really fucking convenient for the narrative."  Tommy starts to say something, and he cuts him off.  "Am I sad that my best friend is gone?  Yes.  Am I not dealing well living in his house?  Also yes.  Fucking sue me."  Crunches a few more chips and chases it with a swallow of beer.  "Eddie's house was one of the first places I found where I was always welcome.  He trusted me to take care of the most important thing in the world to him.  I think I get to be upset that he moved back to Texas.  I get why he went.  I don't even disagree with it.  I wish my parents had loved me half that much.  I still get to be upset about it."  Points the beer bottle at Tommy.  "Okay?"

Tommy holds up his hands.  "Okay."

He nods.  Takes the last swallow of beer in the bottle.  "What was I saying?"

Tommy shakes his head.  "I have no idea.  Evan, why are you here?"

He frowns.  "Oh, I came to apologize."

Tommy's eyebrows go up.  "This was an apology?"

He waves a hand.  Contemplates whether he wants another beer.  "No.  I wanted to apologize for what I said, about not having feelings for everyone I slept with.  That wasn't about you, but I realized that probably wasn't obvious."

"No," Tommy says, and finally crosses the kitchen to get a beer of his own.  "It wasn't."

He takes the second beer when Tommy holds it out to him.  He can uber home if he has to.  "I was mad," he offers.

"Got that, thanks."

He snorts without really meaning too.  "I missed this."  Tommy's eyebrows go up.  "The way you're bitchy and mean."  Sits down at the table opposite Tommy.  "I missed you.  I don't know if I'm still in love with you, but I know I'm not over you, no matter how many things I bake."

"Bake?"  Tommy echoes.

"I baked every time I wanted to call you, or thought about you.  I could have opened a bakery with what I made."  Rubs his hand down his jeans.  "With what I'm still making."  Risks a look at Tommy from under his lashes.

"Okay," Tommy says slowly.  "So, if the comment about not having feelings for everyone you sleep with wasn't aimed at me, who was it aimed at?"

He grimaces.  "Everyone?  No, really.  Everyone keeps telling me to get back on the horse, or there are other fish in the sea - and seriously, what's with all the animal metaphors.  It's creepy."  Takes a breath.  "So I did.  I tried that.  Downloaded grindr and hinge, went to a bar.  Hooked up with a girl.  Hooked up with a guy.  Didn't like it."  Rubs his hand on his pants again.  Takes a nervous swallow of beer.  "The thing is, I want it to be true.  I want to have feelings for the people - person - I'm sleeping with.  But the only person I want that with is you.  And you keep leaving."

"Evan."

He closes his eyes at the sound of Tommy saying his name.  "That's not fair?"

"No," Tommy admits.  "It's fair.  I run before I can get my heart broken.  That's my MO.  Doesn't," he lets out a shaky laugh.  "Doesn't seem to be working well when it comes to you."

He puts his hand on the table, palm up.  "Were you serious about Saturday?"

Tommy stares at his hand.  "Yes?"

"Pick me up at 7?  Not," he adds hastily, "Micelli's.  That place has bad karma."

Tommy lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.  He can relate.  "Not Micelli's," he promises.  Then, "I'm not over you either."

He nods.  "Good.  Maybe we can both learn how to not be alone."

"I was always good at math," Tommy says, and finally finally takes his hand.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ mine | tommy hewitt x reader

♡ fandoms; texas chainsaw massacre remake/ the beginning

♡ characters; thomas hewitt

♡ reader; AFAB body description, second person POV

♡ cw; graphic sexual content, implied voyeurism, breeding kink, light daddy kink (just calling him daddy? wasn’t sure what to tag that )

♡notes; i feel the need to apologize for this one lmao. i didn’t intend for this to see the light of day but i felt we needed more smut around here and this was already sittin in my personal folder

i don’t know that I’ve ever posted detailed smut anywhere before? so lmk how i did, i still haven’t even asked to get my friend to beta read so I’m sure There’s Issues.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

“Oh fuck, baby,” You sighed softly, letting your head roll to the side as you ground on Thomas’ thigh - the mountain of a man pushing his leg up with a huff. Luda-Mae, Monty, and Hoyt had taken a rare trip to their cousins’ place upstate, and left Thomas and yourself in a…sticky situation.

It had already become a war of attrition with you living there, each of you testing the other’s boundaries as you tried desperately not to cross the line. Thomas was allegedly a good, Bible-following boy- and you a shy little virgin . But god, something about Thomas just made you crazy. You needed him- and you’d gotten so shameless that you’d let him do just about anything to you.

That’s what landed you there, trying to entice Thomas and only ending up a squeaky mess as you rode his thigh. He was steadfast for a man years pent up- seeming to find great pleasure in making you unravel without cracking himself. Of course, you had no idea of the hours he spent fucking into his own hand as he imagined you around him, stealing your panties from the laundry bin and palming himself to the sight of you splayed out sunbathing in the yard. Even now you seemed too hazy to notice his cock straining against his trousers, or his fingers dug into the couch to prevent himself from touching your body. The way he trembled as he felt you making a mess on him, the only thing between your slick cunt and his leg your already soaked lacy panties…

His laser focus was broken by something entirely unexpected. You whimpered and hid your face against his chest, mumbling “Daddy- please—“

He wasn’t sure if it was the phrase,the tone, or both that finally broke his resolve- but either way he pinned you against the floral sofa forcefully, snarling like an animal.

“T-tommy- what- I’m sorry—?” You squeaked, seeming utterly confused. Did you even know what you’d said to him?

He growled and quickly signed ‘Again’. You blinked, perplexed look quickly replaced with embarrassment. You whined and tried to hide your face but he snarled again and made you look at him. ‘Again. Now.’

“…daddy. Please. Please I need you. Please—“ You begged, panting weakly as you writhed uncomfortably and unsated.

He rutted against you quickly, moving and kissing your neck sloppily. “Mine,” He rasped quietly, a rare sound even for his partner “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“Oh my god Tommy- please- I need you to give it to me- I wanna feel you inside-“

He made quick work of his belt, pushing your dress up carelessly and making just as quick a job out of ripping your undies clean apart.

You yelped but replaced the complaint with a blissed out, shuddering whine as he finally rubbed against your bare pussy. “Oh fuck…please- put it in-“

He grunted and pushed your legs back, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours as you felt his weight pressed against you. Even in this moment, he tried his damndest to be gentle, looking your face over for the slightest bit of fear or apprehension. “Tommy, please. Fuck me.” You whimpered out softly.

He pushed in carefully , having to stop only halfway in as you squeezed around him. He was huge, long and girthy and a painful stretch even with you relaxed. He gave a grunt and nuzzled you, hips twitching as he reached between you. Clumsily, roughly, he found your clit and slowly rubbed, purring in approval as you mewled out his name.

He was able to jerk his hips and finally bottomed out with a low groan, face buried in your neck. He held still, taking a ragged breath to try to regain control- but you didn’t want control. You needed him to lose it completely.

“Daddy, please. I want you to fuck a baby into me,” You murmured, letting a desperate whine leak into your voice. It was a bit of a long shot- but he was so possessive. Why wouldn’t he want to breed you?

Thomas’ eyes darkened at the thought and he gave a low noise you could barely classify as he pulled nearly all the way out and snapped his hips, setting a brutal pace.

“Oh god-“ You yelped, bracing yourself on his huge arms as he pounded into you, the entire couch creaking and slamming into the wall at the force. You lost any coherence you had as he again teased your clit, mind blank. You got exactly what you wanted, and it was too much in the best way possible.

You came first- you didn’t know if it was because of his stamina or because even in a frenzy he still needed you to feel just as good. You were almost crying as he continued, overwhelmed and overstimulated - and wrapping your legs around his waist to make sure he didn’t stop for a moment. “Baby please- inside- I want you to finish inside-“ You mewled out in your haze- but damn if you didn’t mean it.

That was all it took, unsurprisingly, for him to thrust one last time and fill you with a snarl. He peppered your face in soft kisses, giving a heaving sigh as he relaxed. You tried to move but he growled, keeping himself firmly inside of you. You blushed a bit as you saw his intense expression “You ah…you really liked when I asked you to knock me up, huh?”

He nodded, huffing at you.

“…you know we have all night to try again, yeah?”

He grunted and finally relented, pulling out and smirking at the sight of his seed dripping down your thighs.

“Tommy baby? I love you.” You sighed sleepily

He looked up quickly and seemed shocked. Man of few words that he ways- and never having dreamed he’d need to learn the sign, he took your hand and pressed it against his chest. Right above the heart. In your mind, there was no better way he could have said it; he loved you too.

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘚𝘌𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘚, 𝘚𝘌𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘚 🫀

max verstappen x singer!fem reader // smau

⤷ summary: when max verstappen starts commenting on the posts of the beloved singer y/n l/n, fans are confused and less than enthusiastic at the new friendship. what they could never expect is just how long they've been 'friends'...

based on this request <3

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liked by sabrinacarpenter, maxverstappen1, and 46,908 others

tagged sabrinacarpenter

ynusername my new album is now officially out on all platforms! thank you so so much for all of the love and support, and special thanks to sab for her feature on the song <33 love u bb girl 🫦🫦 now that the album's out, tour next!!! see you all soon!

23,560 comments

user1 THE ALBUM OUT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

user2 i cannot be normal about this i fear

user3 ik her back hurts from CARRYING the music industry on her back 😩

user4 hey so WHO TF IS SO AMERICAN ABOUT?? A LOVE SONG

user5 y/n writing a love song in god's year of 2024... wow

user6 y/n in the top 10 charts, fork found in kitchen

user7 sabrina and y/n are never beating the gf allegations

ynusername damn right we're not 😏

user7 HOLY SHIR HOKY SHIT HOKST SHUT

user8 y/n's in love and it's not with me, hanging myself as we speak

user9 the comment is gonna get reported but so real op

user8 can't a woman hang herself in peace 😣

user10 album's such a banger i had this shit bumpin at my grandmas funeral 🙏🏼 rest in piece nancy 🕊️💪🏻

user11 OH MY GOD???

user12 rest in piece nancy you would've loved make you mine 😔

ynusername oh my god please tell me your joking

user10 sorry queen the grind never stops

ynusername NO SHOT

maxverstappen1 great album! 👍🏼

user13 why does he text like my father 🧍🏻‍♀️

user14 brother eughh

user15 what da hell is a polar bear doin in arlington texas

ynusername thank you max!!!

user16 y/n l/n to redbull in 2025

user17 hellurrrrr who is this man in ur likes y/n

user18 f1 driver!!

user17 Y/N NO ATHELETES PLEAEJEWK 🫵

user18 tour content soon??? i'm sat

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user19 bro looks like he snuck onto earth, get his ass outta here

user20 grammy-award winner, vogue cover model, new york university graduate and Some Fucking Guy

user21 not y'all coming to her defense like the mighty morphin power rangers 💀💀 he's literally a world class athete and she writes pop music

user20 17.172.224.47

user21 IS THAT MY IP ADDRESS??

user20 melinda charleton

user22 IS THAT HIS MOTHER'S NAME!!?1?1!

user20 you want me to do you too???

user22 no we good 😃

user23 ruth bader ginsberg did not die for this

user24 now wtf does this have to do with babe ruth 🤨

user25 WHOOOOO 😧

user24 ... that wasn't right was it

user26 now let's be fr he does NAWT have a chance

user27 have u seen the marble-carved  goddesses these men pull, i fear he does 😔

user28 please no i feel ill

user29 TWO???? OH HELL NAW

user30 two might be pushing it, only one was confirmed

user31 jesus christ

user32 first taylor, now this

user33 yall, all he commented was great album 💀💀 yall are LEAPING to conclusions

user34 what can i say it's an art

user35 i do not see 👁️👄👁️

user36 no like 💀💀 im in your walls

user37 haha max verstappen!! right!!! (theres a sniper at ur location)

user38 omg ur so right 🤩 it is about him (i have a bomb strapped to my chest)

user39 i dont mean to sound stupid, idk who that man is, if i saw him on the streets i wouldnt know a thing 🥱

user40 this is so random too like what 😭

user41 the power of kindness won't work here, i have to throw him off a building

user42 i used to be a max verslsjjwwo lover 🤩 now im just a max verslsjjwwo hater 😔

user43 NURSE 🫵 SHE'S OUT AGAIN

user44 why would u put that into the universe 😧

user45 alright, lets get you to bed grandma

user46 mari stop being delusion and go touch grass 🧍🏻‍♀️

user47 ENOUGHHHH

user48 ain't no way in hell 😭

user49 ik ur feet hurt from all this jumping to conclusions babe

user50 lets leave the parkour to the athletes 😃

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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 54,789 others

ynusername italy thanks for letting me be inside you (; it was such a lovely show, expect me back asap!!!!

15,267 comments

user51 IT WAS SO GOOD I THNK I BLACKED OUT THE WHOLE TIME THO

user52 oh!

user51 oh so now this isn't a safe space

user53 LANDO AND MAX IN TGE LIKES??? NO NO NO NO

user54 ABORT ABORT ABORT

user55 y'all are doing too much 🙄 she's one of the top artists in the world, i think it's safe to say they might like her music

user56 the second picture 🧎🏻‍♀️do you need a stool cause i can kneel and be really quiet

user57 y/n fans be normal challenge (impossible!!!) (never done before)

user56 WOMP WOMP

maxverstappen1 wonderful show! 🙏🏼 you are so talented

ynusername ty max (: im glad you could come see me

user57 ain't NO WAYYYYYY

user59 THIS IS SIXKENJNG IM GONNA PUKE

sabrinacarpenter my gf looking sexy 🫦🫦🫦

ynusername only for u bbg 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

user60 BOOOO 🗣️ GET A ROOM

user61 do y'all need a third!!!!

user62 mamma mia pizza pasta mozzerella moment

user63 i just put u on a watchlist

user62 🧍🏻‍♀️

landonorris RAHHHHHH 🦅🫵🗣️‼️

ynusername RAHHH RAHHH RAHHH RISE POWER POWER 💪🏻‼️

user63 what the fuck

user64 OH GOD WHAT IF SHES DATING HIM????

ynusername brother eughhhh

landonorris WHAT THE FUCK????

user65 SINCE WHEN IS SHE FRIENDS WITH F1 DRIVERS HOW MANY CHAPTWRS DID I MISS

user66 apparently we all went into a universal coma while she was out galavanting cause idk how else this could've happened

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maxverstappen1 posted to his story!

(caption: beautiful show)

22,456 replies

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user67 someone save my girl bro, she don't know any better 😭

user68 it's like a little kid trying to touch the hot stove, LIKE STOP THAT!! DON'T DO THAT

user69 am i the only one who thinks they'd be cute together....

user70 YES!?!?

user71 there is literally no fucking way he bagged her

user72 losing y/n to european f1 driver would be the biggest american tragedy since 2001

user73 i had to read this shit twice, op what r u waffling abt 🫵😧

user74 can't even be nonchalant about this one bro, i'm chalanting hard asf

user75 we do not care

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liked by redbullracing, f1, and 78,567 others

tagged maxverstappen1

ynusername first time in monaco, safe to say i enjoyed myself! so happy to see you shine this time my love<3

25,788 comments

user76 oh. my. fucking. god

user77 THEYRE FUCKING DATING OH MYFODNSJ

user78 THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE HOLDING YOUR HAND THAT SHOULD BE MEEE MAKING YOU LAUGHHH 🎤

user79 i'm in mourning

sabrinacarpenter CHEATER 🫵

ynusername BABY IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE, IT WAS JUST ONE TIME 😣😣😣 IT WAS A MISTAKE

maxverstappen1 we've been dating for 2 years??

sabrinacarpenter SHUT UP FAST & FURIOUS NO ONE ASKED YOU

user80 i'm sorry 😃 two Y EARS

user81 i feel like i just got dumped. y/n don't do this, the kids need you 😔

maxverstappen1 i got p1 for you, i love you 🫶🏼

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hope you all enjoyed! please let me know your thoughts and feel free to leave a request for me to write something for your fav <3

[gutsby]

Cowboy Killers

Pairing: Cowboy!Joel x Reader

Summary: On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.

Warnings: 18+. Drunk-Assholes-to-Enemies-to-Lovers. Oral (m!receiving). Road head. Age gap. Daddy kink.

Note: My favorite sub-genre of country music is ‘I’m Gonna Fucking Kill My Husband,’ and I think Miranda Lambert’s ‘Gunpowder & Lead’ is a perfect representation of that.

Word count: 4.1k

Forgive and forget.

Forgive and forget.

Forgive and—

“I’m about to lay this motherfucker out,” you announced.

Across the line, your friend laughed.

“Yeah? You see him?”

Of course you saw him. Who else would be wearing a Carhartt flannel and jeans in ninety-four degree heat? Not a soul in this world but your friend’s own lying, piece of shit, hopefully-soon-to-be-ex boyfriend, you guessed.

The game that Old Fuckstick Miller had decided to play tonight was a dangerous one—he was dumb as shit, and you were drunker than a skunk. He was dating your best friend, and she was not present at the Tipsy Bison to see the barefaced clusterfuck taking place before you now.

She was home, over thirty minutes away. He had told her that morning he would be working late, and not to wait up. You were here, at the bar, approaching one A.M. with a Redbull Vodka clenched in either fist and a Texas-sized frown on your face, seeing the very same man with his hands all over a woman that wasn’t your friend. You’d wanted to puke as soon as you saw them. You knew you could never trust a man who claimed to be an Austin native and couldn’t name a single George Strait song.

Your friend had only been dating the guy for a month, and you’d just seen his face in pictures up until now, but from what you could see less than twenty feet in front of you—slightly blurred from all the drinks you’d had—this guy was him. A dick. There, cheating on your best friend.

And no man would get to do that and walk out unscathed if you had anything to say about it.

Your grip tightened on either one of your fizzy drinks and, barely managing to cradle the phone between your head and your shoulder, you gestured over to another friend.

“Dave. Take it,” you said, words slurring a little.

Dave York cocked an eyebrow but said nothing as you passed him one of your RBVs and shimmied off the barstool. By the time he was able to pose his question, your ass, your phone, and your one remaining drink were already wobbling the other way. Vaguely, you heard him:

“Where ya headed, hon?”

You turned and raised your drink, then seriously doubted he would be able to hear you over the blare of the music, but yelled back anyway, ‘I’M GONNA KILL SOMEONE!’

The age-old pro-forgiveness aphorism continued to thump in your brain as you made your way over and began to contemplate every feasible method of murder.

A gun in the face would’ve been too simple—and besides, you’d never owned or shot a firearm in your life.

Poison could be fun, but from the way you were approaching the man now, you seriously doubted he’d ever let you get within a mile of his drink. You nudged the phone closer to your ear and took a sip from your own.

“Closing in,” you told your friend simply.

She’d already given you the go-ahead to execute the confrontation and beat his ass any way you pleased after the fact. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ you’d finally get to encroach on this little loved up scene at the other end of the bar. The man had had his back turned to you, and the stunning redhead hanging off his neck, likewise, had no idea what was coming. You smiled.

“Promise you won’t go to jail this time?” your friend said.

“Will you bail me out again if I do?” Your grin got bigger.

“Well, duh.”

“Good deal. I’ll be the shitfaced inmate with ‘Fuck Men’ tattooed on her forehead. Wait for Travis County to call.”

“I love you, psycho.”

“Love you more.”

You ended the call.

And you were fully ready to end this man’s life when you saw him lean in to kiss the woman’s neck—that was sick.

You weren’t thinking straight. You weren’t seeing straight

You yelled out, ‘He-e-e-ey, honey!’ without blinking.

The couple turned.

As soon as the man had done a full 180, you flung your drink in his face and made sure the cup struck his nose.

“You cheatin’ FUCK!”

He flinched, sprayed by your vodka-infused energy juice.

The music overhead was loud, but not so deafening as to prevent the bar from hearing your shriek. From the front of the room, a band was playing ‘Gunpowder & Lead,’ and you couldn’t help but feel the song had been fate.

“What the f—” the adulterer started, evidently stunned.

You knocked the Shiner Bock out of his hand and spat:

“Working late, are we?!”

And spilled another patron’s beer reeling back.

“Got a little caught up on the way home?”

Gesturing toward the green-eyed beauty to his left. At first, the girl fixed her stare on you as if you’d sprouted another head, but then, by turns, she was tilting it to him.

“You have a girlfriend?” she hissed.

Cheater McFuckstick was wiping his beard with his hand

Shaking his head.

“Hell no, I ain’t never—”

“LIAR!”

Channeling your inner Representative Wilson circa 2009, you let your mouth fall open and stared at the big, burly man like the Congressman had once done to President Obama all those years ago. The semi-stranger in front of you was far less composed than his political counterpart.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” he snapped.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Is she your girlfriend?” would-be mistress said, shrill.

“NO!” you and been-knew asshole yelled together.

You saw the man’s nostrils flare, and at the same time, the woman beside him departed. Quickly. A few people around you cleared the way, while others still stared, gawked, and murmured amongst themselves. The Miranda Lambert cover band continued on without a hitch, though you could tell there had been a stir in the crowd. They probably thought the worst of it was over.

They thought wrong.

“You’re a dick,” you seethed, unrelenting.

You almost expected the man to turn and leave.

You thought wrong.

“You’re a cunt.”

And the man chucked a stray whiskey sour in your face.

The $15 spirits splattered on your skin like the meanest insult of all. His aim was better. Though he didn’t let go of the cup, as you had with him, he did make sure to coat the whole of your twisted look with the liquor, and once it landed, he had had the nerve to do something else, too.

He brought the glass to his lips then drank what was left.

“How’s it feel?” he sneered.

You stood in wet, sticky silence for half a second; arguably, you’d earned that cocktail to the face.

On the other hand, who the fuck did he think he was?

You grabbed a random can of Keystone Light and flung it at his chest to give him a hint—and catch him off-guard.

“You’re a bitch, Tommy Miller!”

“Wh—”

“Maria’s my best friend, you absolute f—”

“What—”

“—and you cheated on her for what? All so she—”

“What did you just call me?!”

“A BITCH!”

“No, the NAME!”

“TOMMY MILLER!”

“I’M JOEL!”

Oh.

Oh.

You and Joel were shortly escorted out of the bar.

Joel’s name, and a trace of bourbon, were still fresh on your tongue when you found yourself stranded in the middle of the Tipsy Bison parking lot two minutes later. You leaned into a car beside you and held your stomach.

“Someone drop you on the head as a baby?” Joel barked.

Presently, for you, the world was tilting sideways, and your head was throbbing at a nauseating tempo.

“Go around slingin’ drinks at any old man you—”

Green. Green must’ve been the color of your face as you braced your hands on your knees and assumed a stance as if to scream at the ground. Rather than expecting any noise to ring out, though, you had only to squeeze your eyes shut and hold onto a hunch for something much less pleasant. And viscous.

Reeking mostly of Red Bull and regret, if you had to guess.

Joel took a big step back, and then he took another.

“Da-a-adgummit, girl, what the—”

He turned away just in time to miss the sight of you emptying your guts on the ground, but not quite fast enough to be spared the sounds of you retching. They were loud. Joel Miller was known to be a largely imperturbable force around these parts, but even he was made to feel queasy hearing that. Out of habit, he clapped his hand to his own gut and stumbled off. He stared at the bar, then at his car, then at the gravel crushed under his feet for what felt like the longest time. Then his gaze lingered to his lower half, and he thought:

‘Please, please don’t gimme no daughters. Please.’

He was forty-five. The time for making babies and raising daughters to be anything like a woman of your ilk was probably long past him. All the same, he kept his gaze on his crotch and sighed. Balls, you better not betray me.

When he heard the crunch of rocks, he turned around.

“HEY!”

Oh, no. No. Not tonight.

You were staggering to your car, keys in hand.

“Hey!” Joel called again, jogging after you.

It seemed the second shout had done him no more favors than the first. You were fumbling to get the key inside the door, and you looked as determined as ever.

Over your shoulder, you tossed back, careless:

“You ain’t the boss of me, Tommy Miller.”

You got the key to turn. You opened the door. You were just about to climb inside what looked to Joel to be the ugliest Dodge Ram pickup he’d seen in his life, when he grabbed your arm.

“It’s Joel,” he growled. Pinching your elbow tight as he tugged it back, “And you ain’t driving anywhere tonight.”

Somewhere in front of him, tilted away from his line of vision, you must’ve been grinning, because the next thing he heard from you was the scoff of a laugh.

“Oh yeah?”

Joel flipped you around to face him.

“Yeah,” he snapped.

Feeling a bit like a kid for mimicking your tone.

What were you, twenty-two? Twenty-three? You couldn’t have been a patron of a place like Tipsy Bison for very long, or else he would’ve recognized you tonight.

Then again, you struck him as the type to have had a fake ID since you were fifteen, so he really couldn’t know.

“I’m twenny-wuh-un,” you slurred up at him, exaggerated, once he’d made you step down from the running board and onto the ground. Answering his last unspoken question with the same, sleepy grin as before. Then lifting one of your hands to wag a finger in his face, “I can drink legal anywhere I want to in this country.”

“Not there,” Joel nodded to the interstate.

You looked to where he’d gestured and whistled. Standing and staring, like he had done to his crotch.

“Well fuck me-e!” you said next, dragging out the sound a childish amount, “You the law or somethin’, Mr. Joel?”

“Ain’t no cop.” Joel rolled his eyes.

You kept smiling. Then you turned on your heels.

And instead of trying to climb back into your truck, you sauntered off—in what direction, Joel couldn’t tell. You were more so bumbling about, turning in circles like the world’s most scantily-clad, semi-intoxicated ballerina. And then you stopped. You put your hands on your hips.

“‘Cause I’m the law,” you resumed in a slow, deliberate drawl. The twang you used was mostly feigned, “And you cain’t beat the law. Don’t nobody get away with that, not even a bunch’a Alabama smart alecks, believe you me.”

Joel didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about. The man was Texas born and bred, and you knew it.

He communicated as much by pinning you with a wide, bewildered stare, and something in that seemed to amuse. You stared back, making your eyes bug out too.

“It’s a quote from a movie,” you said, after a beat, “You’ve never seen Fried Green Tomatoes before?”

Joel couldn’t say that he had.

Joel reckoned there was a lot more than just movies he didn’t share in common with you. Miss Twenty-One. Barely a year past the age he’d been when he’d moved out of the house and tried to make a living on his own.

This woman, this girl he saw twirling out in front of him now probably couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel if he’d asked you to. Joel shook his head and moved his feet, frown etching deep.

“Alright, princess. Up.”

You didn’t seem to understand, until he’d lifted you. Up.

You were thrown over his shoulder and carried to a truck much nicer than yours in less than fifteen seconds or so.

“Stinks in here,” you said as soon as he’d set you down.

Then, sniffing the air—and grinning:

“Aw, hell, Miller…you smoke?”

Joel wished he’d said no.

Wished he’d rolled his eyes and told you to pipe down, stop asking him questions. It would’ve made the drive a whole lot easier, and more peaceful. Nowhere near as painful, either, if he were being perfectly honest—the strain in his jeans had already gotten to be more than he could bear, and all you’d asked for was a pack of smokes.

“They call ‘em Cowboy Killers,” you said, matter-of-fact.

“I know what they’re called,” Joel grumbled in reply. Flicking the radio on and hoping to find a tune that would drown out the too-lovely, cloying voice you’d assumed as soon as you thought you might win a cigarette off of him. More chatty now than ever.

And for one, blissful moment, Toby Keith had you beat. The calm was fleeting. As soon as ‘Who’s Your Daddy’ started to drift through the car’s old speakers, you reached across and turned the knob to the left.

“Gross,” you muttered.

“What?”

“Got a light?”

“Blow me.”

Joel’s harsh, clipped tone was deliberate. The way he’d made himself mean—meaner than he’d been around a woman in a long, long time—was a choice. He couldn’t let your faux sweetness win him now. Not after you’d thrown two drinks in his face, mocked his truck, and foreclosed any possibility of getting laid by way of all your publicized infidelity philippics and shit-talking. Giving in to your charms from where you sat in the passenger seat now would only sink him further in his own esteem. Simply put, Joel’s ego couldn’t take it.

“Okie doke,” you said presently. Shrugging.

“Now keep your—HEY!”

Joel nearly swerved his truck off the road and into a ditch. Your deft little hands had slipped into his lap—and started palming his crotch through the denim.

He’d just managed to right the vehicle before jerking a look your way, staring at your hand, then your face:

“What the fuck was that?!”

“You said ‘blow me,’ Joel!” you huffed, and you seriously appeared as distraught as he was, “Sorry for listening!”

Joel grit his teeth with all the force of a cold steel trap.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts.” He gripped the wheel even tighter.

“I’m aware.”

“Where the hell do you live, anyway?”

You told him.

Your hand slipped down to the seat beside him.

And just as Joel let out what felt like the tiniest sigh of relief—he knew where that was, and the address sounded vaguely familiar—he yelped again. This time, he managed to keep control of his truck, but it was hard.

Your fingers had returned, and they were kneading the bulge under his jeans. Joel flushed from head to toe.

He didn’t have so much as half a mind to make you stop. He didn’t want to see you slink back over to your side of the car. But you were twenty-one, and he was forty-five. And you were both under the influence to some degree. And he was driving, for fuck’s sake. Shit like that only worked in dreams—not on a highway in a town like this.

He turned the radio dial to 75. At length, he heard it loud:

‘WHO’S YOUR DADDY? WHO’S YOUR BA-A-A-ABY?’

He saw you cringe.

“C’mon, Joel,” you groaned, “That’s…yuck.”

The fingers of the one hand kept digging, rubbing, but the other reached out and turned the music down again.

Joel shifted in his seat, feeling the pleasure start to bloom from the pit of his stomach, but not wanting to let you off that easy. Briefly, he looked from the road to you.

“What? You got a problem with Toby Keith?”

“I got a problem with anyone sayin’ ‘daddy’ like that.”

You unzipped his fly. Popped the button of his jeans from underneath the soft shelf of belly hanging over it, and held him, finally. You could only cup his erection through his boxers at that point, but the friction was enough to send a shiver through the whole of the old man’s body. He hadn’t been touched like that by a hand that wasn’t his own in…he couldn’t remember how long. He sighed.

“That why you’ve got your hand down the pants of a man old enough to be your father?” Joel quipped.

He couldn’t help it.

Your hand only gripped him tighter. From the passenger seat, you’d leaned over and started crawling. Scowling.

Your knees swiftly planted themselves on the old, upholstered cushion of the bucket seat, and you slipped a touch beneath the waistband of his underwear. With a hand that was smooth and soft and eager to please, you wrapped your fingers around that base and leaned in.

“You sound like you want me to say it,” you whispered.

Under your hand, he pulsed. His gaze stayed on the road.

“Don’t make no difference to me, sweet pea,” he said, and was amazed how even he was able to keep his tone:

“But those ‘Cowboy Killers’ you wanted…”

Your fingers curled tighter. Your head sank lower.

“…they don’t come cheap, y’know.”

Oh, you knew. He saw a smile snag at the corners of your lips as you brought them to his lap, and he had to force himself to look at the road again. It was empty and dark.

The tarmac stretched out for days. The fields rolling past warned sternly, ‘Don’t let her win,’ and something more in between each tree seemed to invite deliberation—remembrance, maybe. Joel was far too focused on the feel of your mouth to give the woods a second thought.

You’d worked the first inch between your lips in a slick, obscene sort of kiss; you made room for just the head and then toyed with a bead of precum leaking out of his slit. You licked it, squeezed the shaft in your hand, and hummed while the first real moan rumbled through him.

Joel turned to putty with just that flick of your tongue. He didn’t have to see your face to know he was losing.

On the wheel, his grip grew tighter, and he choked out:

“Ain’t your fuckin’ lollypop, kid.”

Then, dropping one hand to push down on your head—make you take him to the back of your throat in one go.

“Daddy wants you to suck him like a big girl, hear?”

At the base of his cock, he felt you gag. From the bottom of his heart, Joel knew there was no sound sweeter than that. He ran his fingers over your skull and tapped gently.

“If you want those smokes,” he told you—and really, with all the warmth and moisture of your mouth enveloping him now, he’d had to try to sound rougher than he was, “You’re gonna do what daddy says and suck him right.”

You gagged again, then squeezed his denim-clad leg with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his member.

Joel yanked you by your hair and made you look up.

Your cheeks were already smeared with spit and tears. Much to his surprise, he found your eyes alight and soft.

Suffused with desire, too, from what he could see.

“Yes, daddy.” You grinned up at him.

Joel knew if he let your gaze stay on his a second longer now he’d either crash his car, blow his load, or fall in love—and he simply refused to let you succeed on any of those fronts, so he shoved your face back down.

You sucked him obediently. Greedily. Mouth growing more pliant and wet by the second, as if your jaw and salivary glands had contrived to get him as close to release as possible, as quickly as they were able.

Joel took a left onto a road he had only a dim recognition as being connected to yours, and he got that feeling again. You were bobbing your head, taking him further, flattening your tongue along the bottom of his member when his pleasure swelled inside him. At the same time, he felt a sense of dread. His hands were shaking on the wheel. He didn’t dare steal a look down to the sweet, soaked, perfect little mouth sucking him dry, because he knew that feeling would only strike twice as hard. He had to cum, or make you stop, or bring his truck to a halt.

As it was, he felt five tiny crescents sink into his thigh as you gripped him tighter, and a noise bubbled up in your mouth. Your breathing went shallow, and your lips stretched wide—you were trying, and succeeding, in deep-throating his thick, throbbing, much-too-old-for-a-girl-her-age member down close to your windpipe, and Joel could feel it. He hit his blinker, not thinking, and saw a sign that marked your street. Trepidation hit him again.

Fully, this time, in a feeling that was more like terror.

He didn’t have another second to question it, either. By the time he had the old, lone farmhouse in his sights and his heart nearly halfway up his throat with fear, your own throat pulsed, and opened the last two inches to him in. Your nose found their home in the rough, grey, wiry hairs at the base of his belly, having swallowed him whole, and Joel quickly sensed the start of what he knew too well.

He came down your throat in one, two, three, four, five long spurts, and didn’t let his foot off the gas even once.

He saw your house, approaching closer now, and paled.

No fucking way.

You’d wanted to skip the whole way up your drive.

Spit still drying on your cheeks, cum resting comfortably in your belly, and a smile as bright as the sun on your face as you waved to the F-150 pulling off toward the road, you’d never felt more alive—or smug—in your life.

“Is your dad…Lucien Flores?” Joel had asked no more than a second after his dick slipped out of your mouth.

“The one and only.”

Somehow, his face got even paler. His jaw visibly clenched, and his palm hit the top of the wheel. Hard.

It was then that you’d learned your father had hired Joel Miller on as a full-time ranch hand sometime last week.

He’d remembered the address, vaguely, but didn’t connect the dots until he’d pulled up in front of your house and damn near punctured your windpipe with his pulsing dick from how fast he’d jumped up—and cum.

His spend had almost shot through your nose with the force of it, but you didn’t mind. Once he’d revealed the wild, gory, and admittedly hilarious details of his newfound employment, you were too busy laughing your ass off to care if he’d torn your throat in two with his dick.

“So you really are a cowboy, then,” you’d said, giggling.

Joel had scowled. Rolled his eyes. Practically turned the color of a tomato when you leaned in and kissed him.

Now you were waving to him from your front door.

Joel’s truck was slow to go. The taste of him was fresh.

And there, weighing light in your back pocket while you said goodbye was a brand new pack of Marlboro Reds.

2:21 AM

You were safely in bed. You checked your phone.

Aside from fourteen missed calls, you saw:

1:09 AM – Maria

DUDE

1:09 AM

TOMMY JUST CAME HOME

1:09 AM

THAT’S NOT HIM AT THE BAR

1:13 AM

IT’S JUST JOEL!! HIS BROTHER!!!

1:13 AM

ABORT ABORT ABORT

1:42 AM

DAVE SAID YOU BEAT JOEL UP???? CALL ME

1:54 AM – Dave York

Ur gonna fuck that old dude aren’t u

[shellshocklove]

wet nights | joel miller

pairing/AU: bfd!joel miller x female!reader – no outbreak

summary: getting beer spilled down your dress at your best friend sarah’s birthday party might not have been so bad– not when her dad can help you clean up.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 25 and joel is 47, reader is described as wearing a dress, swearing, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, exhibitionism, praise with a dash of degradation kink, one small touch of your clit, soft dom!joel, use of sir, cum play, no use of y/n

a/n: mom said it was my turn to write bfd!joel lol. basically this is just me wanting to write joel getting his cock and balls sucked bc it's what he deserves 😌 as always thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this for me! and happy reading <3

main masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Nodding your head to the beat of the music you gulped down a cooling sip of beer. The bar was stuffed to the brim tonight for Sarah’s birthday. Every chair and booth occupied, large groups huddled together against the walls, and a growing crowd of brave, seemingly deep enough down their drinks, dancers moved across the makeshift dance floor. Leaning against the bar right at the end, you were shielded from the continuous line of people looking for a drink to sate their thirst on this hot summer night.

You’d missed Sarah since graduation. She’d moved back to Austin to be closer to her father – a man you had still to meet even after all these years of knowing Sarah. You’d met in undergrad where you’d had a couple of overlapping classes the first year. She’d been one of those people where you’d just clicked, like a hand in a glove, you two just fit together.

Now you had moved to Austin. It wasn’t exactly planned, but you’d applied to a postgraduate program at the University of Texas, not necessarily thinking you’d get in– but then you had. Sarah had been ecstatic when you’d told her. You hadn’t seen her in person in over a year, but you couldn’t wait to live in the same city as your best friend again.

But first, her 25th birthday party.

Tonight would be your first night out as a new Austinite. Sarah had invited all her closest friends and family to her favorite bar to celebrate. You’d dreaded it a little, you weren’t gonna lie. That nagging anxiety had bubbled under your skin all week at the prospect of being the only one at the party who didn’t know anyone already. Sarah had told you not to worry though when you’d voiced your concern to her a few days ago – she’d introduce you to everyone – nothing to worry about, and she’d been right.

All Sarah’s friends had been extremely friendly and nice, and you’d been taken under their wing immediately. Quickly, your anxiety had melted away, condensing into nothing as you’d started to have a good time.

It was deep into the summer, and Austin had shown itself from its hotter side the last few days. Inside the bar everything ran hot, even with the AC on blast and with the amount of people who’d made their way inside in the last hour, looking for a good time on a Saturday night, it never stood a chance.

Trying to cool off you’d excused yourself from your new group of friends to order yourself a cold beer. One of the ACs blew cold air directly towards the bar, keeping the frantic bartenders cool as they pushed out order after order of drinks. You watched them from where you stood perfectly in the wind of the AC, glass raised to your lips when you felt a hard bump against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” you cursed as your full glass of beer spilled all down your front, staining your white summer dress.

“Shit– sorry, sweetheart.” You didn’t have time to react as your beer was lifted out of your wet hand and placed on the rough wood of the bar.

Looking up from your ruined dress you took in your beer thief as he reached across the bar for some napkins. He was older, forties maybe, maybe older if you were to take the sprinkle of salt and pepper in his hair into consideration, but he was gorgeous. A strong jaw and sculptured nose. Clad in a t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, you thought he looked casual– not like he belonged to the rest of the birthday party. The material of his t-shirt strained against his bicep as he leaned back from over the bar – a stack of napkins now in his hand. Standing to his full height before you, you noticed just how broad he was, and it made a drop of desire pool in your core. 

The man’s previous frantic movements came to a halt as he took you in for the first time; his dark brown eyes rolling down your body and leaving a trail of heat. His fist full of napkins stalled when his eyes landed on your dress, quickly diverting them with a loud clearing of his throat.

“Um– here,” he said, voice strained as he handed you the napkins.

Pulling your eyebrows together in a frown, you looked down at yourself again. The fabric was completely soaked through, and you felt a prickling heat tickle your cheeks as you realized you now looked like a walking ad for a wet t-shirt competition.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, taking the napkins from the man as you tried your best to cover yourself.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart– bumpin’ into ya like that.”

Pressing the napkins to your dress you shook your head at him, “It’s fine– eh,” you looked up from your body.

“Joel,” he introduced himself.

“It’s fine, Joel. It was an accident. I’ll just go to the restroom and try to get the stain out,” you said with a grimace, and reached for more napkins.

“Let me help ya,” he offered as he placed a friendly hand on your elbow.

As Joel guided you through the crowd towards the toilets, hand hovering at a polite distance behind your back, he continued to apologize.

“I feel terrible– let me at least pay for it if it ends up needin’ replacin’.”

Inside the bar’s toilets, you jumped up on the stone countertop lining the wall, turning the closest sink on.

“It’s okay,” you repeated as you busied yourself with trying to clean yourself up, “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten beer spilled all over me,” you said with a teasing laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Standing beside you with his hip leaning against the stone and a knee popped, Joel huffed out a strained laugh, a laugh somewhere between embarrassment and relief.

“Yeah?” He questioned, eyes falling to your working hands.

“Tell you this much– I’ve had plenty of wet nights.”

A sound escaped Joel at your words, one he quickly tried to cover up with a cough, and you realize your innuendo a second too late. When you looked up from your hands, eyes wide, you noticed that Joel’s cheeks had flushed slightly, like he was embarrassed that he’d even caught onto the innuendo you hadn’t meant to make. 

“Oh! No, not like that–” you rushed, tone slightly mortified as your eyes met his, trying very hard not to stutter through the rest of your sentence, “I–uh... I only meant that I uh–... I‘ve had plenty of situations in which I’ve gotten wet–” 

At this sentence, Joel raised his eyebrows in a look that seemed half-surprised, half-amused, and your stomach dropped even further into your ass in embarrassment. 

“–with water!” you clarified quickly, before you scrunched up your nose in embarrassment, closing your eyes as you huffed out a laughing sigh, “There’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully, is there?” 

You heard Joel’s chuckle to your side, deep and syrupy, like the stuff you’d liked to pour over your pancakes in buckets when you were a kid.

“You’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t started explainin’, I think,” Joel told you, his tone joking, and you chuckled bashfully, nodding before you looked up at him. 

There was a moment in which you exchanged a look, before you felt the smile break over your face and you dissolved into embarrassed laughter, shaking your head as Joel laughed, too. 

“Off to a great start,” you muttered in between chuckles, “First week in Austin and I’m already making passes at handsome strangers in bar bathrooms.” 

“I never said I was complainin’,” Joel said jokingly, and you let out a chuckle, “First week in Austin, hm?” 

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “Here for a postgrad.” 

“Smart and beautiful,” he mused, “Reckon I should spill beers more often if this is what I get in return.” 

Delicate wings fluttered in your tummy at his words as a feeling of excitement filled your chest. Looking up at him with a raised teasing eyebrow you said, “Not sure spilling beer on someone is the tried and tested formula.”  

“Well, that depends, really,” Joel answered back in a teasingly contemplating voice, “‘s it workin’ on you?” 

Your stomach dropped slightly at his words, and when your eyes moved to meet his, he was looking at you with a look that made your insides burn. 

“Maybe,” you told him with a teasing smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. 

You were never usually this bold, but there was something in the way he was looking at you and the syrup-y tone of his voice. You could tell he knew what he was doing, knew exactly what to say, and you wanted more. Biting down on your bottom lip coquettishly, you leaned backwards on your arms, giving Joel a full view of the soaked front of your dress, and more specifically, everything he could see underneath. 

“And what works on you, Joel?” 

You watched with some satisfaction as Joel's eyes ran over the length of your chest, before he quickly redirected them to your eyes.

“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman here, sweetheart,” he almost whispered, his eyes as dark as the Austin summer night sky. You gave a noncommitted shrug as a teasing smile tugged at your lips. Then, you leaned forward so that you were closer to him, feet dangling slightly.

“I never asked you to be,” you told him, your voice low but not quite a whisper as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

Behind your rib cage your heart quickened with excitement as Joel’s darkening gaze bored into yours, and you knew you him right where you wanted him. His eyes danced over your face for a moment, before they flickered down to your lips. It almost made you stop breathing for a second, the tension in the air between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was just something about this man, something about Joel – and in this moment you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone before. 

Maybe it should’ve scared you, the speed at which you’d fallen under his spell (or was it the other way around?), but right now, with Joel’s darkening eyes staring into yours, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any fear. You could only look at him, could only feel his breath fanning over your lips and the intensity of his gaze on your face.

“You’re trouble, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice was low, not quite a whisper, but full of deep bass. 

You felt the expanse of his hand fall on your bare knee, rough and calloused over where your sundress had ridden up. 

“Nothing you can’t handle.” You batted your eyelashes semi-innocently, spreading your thighs slightly, which made Joel’s mouth twitch in amusement. 

“’s that so, darlin’?” He asked, taking his place between your legs, your face now only inches from his as he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, your hand falling over his to guide it slowly up your thigh, “Don’t you wanna find out?”

As Joel’s index finger made contact with the side seam of your underwear, he closed the space between you and pressed his lips against yours. The hairs of his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow as he dove deeper, lips rolling over yours. You sat up slightly when his other hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your core rubbing up against his growing bulge. You whimpered against his lips at the contact, and Joel inhaled it, consuming every breathy moan and whimper.

His hand slid slowly downwards to your ass where he gave it a nice squeeze, pulling you even closer when your legs came up to wrap around his waist. He licked at your lower lip hungrily, and you opened yourself up to him to allow him to deepen the kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. He was a great kisser, probably the best you’d kissed. His lips moved expertly over yours, soft and firm at the same time as he guided you through it.

The grip on your ass tightened again and soon you were half-way to hanging off the counter as he rocked his front steadily against your core, where your arousal had started to pool. The kisses turned needier then, shorter and desperate between quiet whines. You could feel the shape of him against you, hard and thick, and big. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you as you imagined yourself on your knees before him, the weight and taste of him on your tongue. He was so fucking hot, and you wanted him so fucking badly.

“Can I suck your cock?” you panted through frantic kisses.

Joel pulled back slightly, head tipped back to find your eyes. 

“You wanna suck my cock?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. You only nodded, head tipping slowly with the bite of your lip.

Joel tsk-ed, “Dirty girl,” he said and rocked his hard bulge against your core, which earned him a moan. It made a wicked grin spread across his face, like he’d just proved a point.

His hands left your body as he slowly stepped backwards – that same cocky grin adorning his features as he nodded towards one of the stalls. Jumping off the countertop, you almost tripped over your feet to follow him inside.

“Relax, baby– ain’t no need to get on your knees until after we’re inside,” he teased, holding the door open for you, bicep bulging against the fabric of his t-shirt. Fuck, he looked so hot.

“Ha-ha,” you fake-laughed at him with a teasing roll of your eyes as you stepped past him and into the bathroom stall. When the door clicked behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning, you felt a pair of strong hands land on your hips as he pressed his body against your back.

“I’m only teasin’,” he reassured you in your ear, his breath fanning over the shell and sending a tingle down your spine. Turning around in his hold, your own teasing smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah?” you queried with the raise of an eyebrow, “Well two can play that game, sir” you teased as you slowly sunk to your knees, missing the way Joel reacted to the title you’d assigned him.

From above Joel watched you, body relaxed and composed like he wasn’t about to get his dick sucked, but the lust in his eyes gave him away. Your teeth caught on your bottom lip as you fumbled with his belt, the sound of metal clinking bouncing off the tiles as you focused on popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. You couldn’t take your eyes off the shape of him hidden behind the denim, and it made your mouth water, your thighs squeezing together. You were mesmerized as you let your pointer finger run over the covered length of him, the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs soft under your fingertips.

For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do – suck a man you’d just met less than an hour ago off in the bathroom stall of some dingy bar? But then again, something excited you about it. 

Maybe it was Joel? Or maybe it was the thrill of it all– of maybe getting caught?

“Go on, darlin’, it’s okay– be a good girl n’ take it out f’me,” Joel ordered from above, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, caught the way he studied you, gauging your every move and reaction.

Then something shifted in his eyes, a flash of insecurity making its presence known, “Or don’t– we can stop f’you want– if you ain’t feelin’ it anymore.”

You shook your head before he’d even finished his sentence. God, no! You sure as hell didn’t want to stop.

“I wanna keep going, Joel,” you smiled, your fingers hooking into the elastic band of his boxer briefs.

A genuine smile bloomed across his face then, his rough hand coming down to cup your chin, “That’s good, baby,” he said, swiping his thumb slowly over your skin, before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Know you’ll be good f’me, won’t you?” he whispered against your lips, drawing a breathy whine from you at the praise.

“Yes,” you sighed, almost breathless as he kissed you again quickly before he murmured against your lips, “Yes, you will, darlin’– you’re gonna choke on my cock ‘n thank me for it, won’t ya?”

He was driving you mad with all these questions. In just a few minutes, this man had turned you inside out, pushed every button to turn you on– you were practically swimming in your panties, your mind clouded in hazy arousal. 

You didn’t know what to do, and not thinking clearly, you chased his lips.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chuckled, pulling away slightly, “lemme hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you sighed again, “thank you for giving me your cock.”

“Thank you for giving me your cock, what?”

This manwas relentless.

“Thank you for giving me your cock, sir?” you tried, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

Pleased, a satisfied grin pulled at Joel’s lips. He rewarded you with a quick kiss before he pulled away, standing to his full height again.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to touch him. Hooking your fingers into the elastic band of his boxer briefs again, you slowly pulled them down, revealing inch by inch of the base of his fat cock.

He was big, and the sight made your mouth water, but what excited you the most was the weight of his heavy balls.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide with fascination.

His hand found the back of your neck in a grounding hold as he guided you closer, your lips bumping against his tip. “Give it a kiss, baby… just like that,” he praised as you did exactly what he wanted, placing a kiss to his cock the same way you’d kissed his lips.

Over you, you could hear Joel release a content breathy chuckle, “That’s so good, baby, such a good girl.”

Egged on by his praises, you shifted a little on your knees, steadying your hands on his thighs as you pooled a blob of spit in your mouth that you let drip down the head. Joel watched you intensely as you used your dominant hand to slowly work the spit over his length, earning yourself a strained grunt. He grew even harder in your hand as you familiarized yourself with the weight and size of him in your hand. 

“Wanna taste it, sir,” you said and placed another soft kiss to the head, swiping your tongue over the slit to taste the precum that had started to pearl.

“Yeah?” he taunted, almost degrading, “You wanna taste my cock that badly?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, looking up at him through your lashes.

Joel watched you for a beat before he tapped at the hand wrapped around him, shooing it away as he fisted himself. “Open wide then, honey, ‘f you want it that bad,” he said, slapping his cock against the side of your face.

Your mouth dropped open in an instance as Joel stuffed his cock inside your mouth slowly. You opened up as wide as you possibly could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate the size of him in your mouth. It was a wide stretch, and the tip touched the back of your throat far too soon, making you gag around the head.

He pulled back to let you breathe for a moment, before he sunk back down your throat again, a large and grounding hand resting at the back of your head. The second time you were more prepared to take him, holding him in your throat for a few moments longer before you started to gag. Over you, Joel let out a strained grunt; the noise sending a bolt of arousal straight to your core.

After that, Joel let you take the lead.

You started out slow, taking the head into your mouth as you let your spit-covered fingers glide over his shaft in an experimental tug. Under your fist, a slick sound echoed off the tiles with every jerk of his cock. You made sure his cock was thoroughly coated in your spit as you set a steady rhythm. You let your tongue glide over the underside of his tip, his hips bucking when you dipped your tongue into the slit.

It was sloppy, and wet, and the noises coming from your throat were entirely too obscene as you started bobbing your head, taking him down your throat.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel praised you, helping guide his cock down your throat with the hand resting at the back of your head. “You love suckin’ cock, don’t you? Love havin’ a big cock fill up that tight throat?”

Suddenly, you heard the muted music coming from the bar grow louder before dying again at the sound of the door slamming shut. You stilled your movements in panic as you heard someone slip into the stall to your right. Your eyes met Joel as you slipped his cock out your mouth, but to your surprise he looked far from concerned about the new audience. 

Stretching his neck he turned his head in the direction of the occupied stall, while he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. Even in his hands it looked big, and you started to wonder how you’d ever managed to fit it down your throat. A beat passed before he turned his head to look at you again, a wicked grin coating his lips as he bobbed his cock in your face, rubbing the head over your closed lips before he slapped it lightly against your cheek.

“Open up,” he mouthed with another light slap to your cheek. His actions made a tingle of arousal spread throughout your body, and you realized in shock how much the thought of getting caught turned you on.

You did as Joel said and opened your mouth for him to feed you his cock again. He watched you very closely this time, letting you ease yourself down his cock at your own pace, trying your best to be quiet. When the very tip of your nose made contact with the thatch of coarse dark hair at the base and your lips were snug around his cock, Joel couldn’t help himself. The grounding hand at the back of your head held you down as he shoved himself as deep as he possibly could down your throat, his balls bouncing against your chin at the movement.

To your right you heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet being flushed and a lock being twisted. Your eyes welled up with tears, your vision fogging over as you tried your best to fight against your gag reflex. Over you, Joel watched you with a proud smirk on his lips. When the sound of the sink turning on echoed through the restroom, you allowed a whimpering gag to escape you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but the thrill of getting caught choking on an older man’s cock, a man who was essentially a stranger, made you wonder if you could come untouched. You were so close already, just a flick of your clit would send you off the edge of bliss.

Your eyes were about to roll back into your head when Joel finally pulled back. You gasped violently for air at the exact moment the door opened, filling the toilets with loud music for a moment before you and Joel were locked away again in your own little world. Like you were on autopilot, your hand slipped between your thighs to find your clit, and soon you were withering with your orgasm.

“Oh, there you go, honey, come all over those fingers f’me, just like that,” you heard Joel say, though the force of your orgasm made it seem like he was far away, like your ears were filled with cotton.

When you finally calmed down, you steadied yourself with a tug at Joel’s jeans – the fabric rough under your fingertips. Over you Joel fisted his cock as he watched you with a wild look in his eyes.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that just from gettin’ your throat fucked.”

“Thank you, sir,” you managed to let out, your voice strained and hoarse.

Realizing he must’ve been close, you sat up straighter on your knees, ready to pull him off the edge too. Leaning forward, you stuck out your tongue, licking a fat strip up the seam of his balls to the underside of his shaft. His cock jumped in his hand as Joel let out a breathy laugh.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, “Look me in the eyes honey– look me in the eyes when you lick my balls.” Joel jerked his cock above your face as you continued to lick at his heavy balls – your eyes locked with his.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he choked out through groans, “Suck on ‘em, baby, suck on my balls.”

Blinking up at him you tried your best to fit one of them in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking greedily and lapping at the skin, before you moved on to treat the other with the same amount of love.

Joel’s mouth dropped open in a gape, his breath coming out quicker and more staggered. He squeezed himself harder at the base with each jerk before skating his thumb over the swollen head, massaging it. 

“Fuck,” he panted, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

Popping his balls from your mouth you hurriedly sat up in front of him, the tip off his cock brushing over the plump of your bottom lip with every thug of his cock.

“Please, sir,” you begged, “Please, come in my mouth.”

Joel wasn’t one to deny your request, especially not when you were sat so pretty in front of him with your tongue sticking out.

A second later, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth and came – balls drawn tight as he shot his load down your throat. The force of it made you gag a little at first, the restriction around his sensitive cock only making him come harder. He groaned above you as you sucked him dry, before he pulled back when it was too much, and caught his breath.

“Say Ah,” he said, a gentle but firm hand cupping your jaw. The squeeze of his fingers made your mouth drop open to reveal the cum coated on your tongue and where it pooled at the back of your throat. “Don’t swallow– Let me see, darlin’.”

Your smile fought against his grip. Sticking your tongue out the best you could, you let him see the state he’d left you in; chin coated in saliva, tears starting to dry on your cheeks, mouth puffy and fucked, and marked in this stranger’s cum.

“Pretty as a picture,” he tutted before he let go of your jaw, and with a pat to your cheek finally gave you permission to swallow.

After that it was like the spell had broken between you. Joel helped you to your feet, both of you giggling when your legs wobbled like a foal unsteady on its feet. He held you upright with a strong hand to your waist, while the other one traveled up the length of your body to cup your face, and bring it closer to place a slow and sensual kiss to your lips.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’d never done anything like that before?” You asked him a moment later as he helped you clean your face by the sink.

Joel gave you a look in the mirror.

“You don’t?” you exclaimed.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly casual shrug, “It ain’t your first time suckin’ dick that’s for sure,” he teased with a pinch to your side which made you jump.

Giving him a playful shove, you said, “I’m not lying! I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

“Well, the night’s still young,” Joel joked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and dipping his head to place a soft kiss to the column of your neck.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the soft grip of his hands on your body, and the soft presses of his kisses as you watched the two of you in the mirror. You found that you liked the reflection looking back at you, and if you were lucky, you hoped he liked it too; maybe enough to want to see you again.

“I can’t go back out there like this,” you said after a moment.

Your dress had finally dried, but so had the beer – staining it yellow.

Joel lifted his head from your neck to rest his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scanned your body in the mirror. 

“I have a flannel in my truck I can borrow you?”

“More layers in this heat?” you questioned, already sweating at the thought.

A wide grin spread across Joel’s face, full of mischief, “I guess I’ll just have to take ‘em off of you later, then.”

Turning around in his hold, you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair curling at his neck as you met his eyes. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you whispered, painfully aware of the wet stain of arousal soiling your panties and sticking to your cunt.

“No, it doesn’t,” Joel hummed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. 

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked and brushed your lips over his.

A moment later Joel guided you out the restrooms with a protective hand resting at the small of your back. Weaving through the crowd, you’d made your way almost to the exit when you heard a shout of your name over the music.

“There you are!” Sarah shouted again as she moved through the crowd towards you and Joel, arms reached out to the sky.

“Oh! And you’ve finally met my dad!”

i hope this was okay and that someone liked this? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[cheol-e-kat]

Hi! New follower here! Im in love with your work! Could I please request Cheol x reader. Sexual frustration and ex sex please. Where ex's have been with other people but no one can get them off like their ex can. Thank you!!

haiiii not anon for once ^^ thanks for your follow ♡♡ and for participating in bingo - i hope you submit more asks

i know it's been a bit since you submitted this, but i hope you like it ^^

♡ kat

bingo squares: sexual frustration + ex sex

pairing: choi seungcheol / f!reader

summary: y/n is missing her ex, especially a certain part of her ex and all the things he can do with it, and decides to send him a text  

word count:  2.4k

genre: pwp, alternate universe, f2l, ex sex, low key make up sex

Rating: 18+, MDNI, explicit

warnings below cut

warnings: explicit language, penetrative sex, fingering, oral sex, squirting, overstimulation 

y/n fell back against the cool sheets. 

she listened to the guy next to her breathing hard like he was on cloud nine after round 14 of pounding her pussy - it was round one and had been dull. 

“whew, that was fuckin’ amazin’, darlin’” he said giddily. 

she gave him her best customer service smile and reached for her phone. there was a text she desperately needed to send.

[y/n 04:23]

hiiii

she didn’t expect a response. ever probably. they had unquestionably broken up. she knew that. she definitely knew that.

but she had to try because the mediocre sex she had been having lately was just not it. 

she didn’t even look forward to sex anymore. it was dull, at best - she might as well be doing her taxes. 

instead, she was just wasting her time, placating men with her lack-luster, ‘oh, yes, b-a-b-y, that is just so good’…’yes, right there’…’u h u h’…’oh boy, howdy, just like that’- she was completely phoning it in. 

if they paid any attention, they would know she was speaking roughly like the worst pre-recorded robocall machine to ever be invented. but funnily, they never seemed to notice. so she just kept saying more and more unhinged things - she had to entertain herself somehow. 

she slid out of bed and grabbed her clothes and headed for the bathroom. 

he stopped her for a moment, “hey, now, i thought you promised you would stay the night, make me breakfast and all that,” he said with a wink.

she stared blankly for a moment because when the fuck had she ever offered anyone that, much less texas pete over here.

“oh, yeah, sorry about that sugar, but i plum forgot, i’ve got this thing in the mornin’ and i just can’t miss it, ya’ know?” she shrugged.

for some reason, she had let a friend drag her to a country western club the night before, and she had been using her best southern accent all night. it was heinous. but again, she had to make her own fun. 

“well damn,” he sighed, “i was lookin’ forward to that.” he squeezed her hand gently. “you just seem like you know your way around a kitchen,” he smiled again. 

it wasn’t that he wasn’t cute - he was fine. totally okay - for anyone else on the planet.

she nodded and smiled, “sorry to let ‘cha down, but my boss is a real son of a bitch,” she smiled as she spoke and slowly pulled her hand from his grasp. 

she went to the bathroom, cleaned up, threw on her clothes, and made a quick getaway. 

she was in an uber when she saw the text.

[cheol 04:23]

u up? also why?????

she smiled - a genuine smile for once.

[y/n 04:46]

just going thru a drought T-T

she stared at her phone for a moment before flipping it face down in her palm. she didn’t want to watch the lack of response. they had been friends. they should have never fucked. they should have never dated. because now she couldn’t even complain to him when things sucked. 

she felt her phone buzz and almost threw it. she really was not expecting a response.

[cheol 04:51]

you still know my address, right?

she read the message over several times before answering.

[y/n 04:52]

yea

he was quick with his response, though.

[cheol 04:52]

just come over then - i want to hear the southern accent tho

she snorted and asked her driver if he could change the address.

seungcheol answered the door in his underwear, which was cute and made her wonder where he had tossed his pjs - she knew he slept in them. 

he leaned against the door, smiling, “seriously, i want to hear it,” he whispered. 

she rolled her eyes, “oh god, at least let me come in first,” she pleaded.

he grinned and shook his head, “got to give me something,” he smiled cutely, “you know ‘m worth it,” he watched her with a flirty gaze she knew too well.

she looked him over, “fine,” she sighed, “uhh, hey, good lookin’,” she laughed, “fuck that was terrible.”

he nodded, still smiling, “come on, one solid thing,” he asked, his voice daring her.

she sighed softly and reached out - she caught her finger in the waist of his underwear and snapped it against his skin.

“fuck, really? how old are you?” he kept it to a whisper. his neighbors would complain otherwise. they both knew that all too well.

she smiled, “awe, darlin’ did that hurt? i didn’t mean nothin’ by it, my hand just got away from me, and lord knows what it’ll do next,” she scrunched her nose and held back a laugh. he looked dumbfounded. 

but he finally moved out of the way and let her in. 

she dropped her bag by the door and followed him into the kitchen. he tossed her a bottle of water. 

“so, shua’s idea was less than perfect?” he leaned on the counter, watching her.

she rolled her eyes, “i mean,” she paused, “why do you even know for one?”

he grinned, “you were killing him with the accent - you know his LA-brain can’t handle when you whip that out.”

she smiled and shook her head, “right, so just voice messages or what went into the gc?”

she knew there were several she was no longer in, but she tried to get past the awkwardness of that. besides he shook his head - the gc was sacred. 

she groaned, “look, can i shower?”

“you texted me at this time to take a shower?”

she shrugged and pouted, “please,” she put her hands together, pleading fully. 

she didn’t like the idea of being all grimy from a bar or from where she had been, which neither of them addressed. because if seungcheol knew about the accent and the bar, then he knew about the mechanical bull ride - which was 12 out of 10 in her opinion - and he knew about the guy she went home with.

he followed her into his bedroom and left her to find her way to the bathroom. she stripped and took a long shower, thankful for the hot water and that he still had the soap she picked out. by the time she was out and had dried off, she noticed that there were clothes for her to change into. she hadn’t even realized that he had come in - not that she minded. it was sweet. 

she pulled on one of his shirts and some boxers - and she wandered into his bedroom. she knew she should probably sleep on the couch, but when seungcheol reached out for her, she couldn’t resist. 

she was happy to climb into his warm bed and snuggle against his side. 

she woke up slowly - she wasn’t exactly surprised by where she was - she knew what it felt like to wake up with him. it was more of a bittersweet feeling. she barely admitted to herself that she missed him as much as she did. 

she tried to pretend that none of it bothered her - like seeing him with other people - or how absolutely fucking bored to death she was without him. she wanted to hurry up and leave before lying there dredged up too many feelings. 

the problem was when she moved - he pulled her back down, kissing her softly. and it worked like a spell. she couldn’t break that kiss - that perfect kiss with seungcheol that she had been missing so badly. 

and when his strong hands pulled her back where he wanted her, lying on top of him, she couldn’t resist that either. she kissed him and ran her hands through his hair. she moaned softly and happily let her tongue slide against his, tasting him. she felt his hands firmly trace along her thighs and ass, squeezing her cheeks and spreading them before finally giving her a soft smack that only made her smile. 

she felt like she was in a daze by the time she was on her back, and he was undressing her, kissing all the places he liked most. she played with his hair, savoring the feeling of him. she groaned softly as he kissed and licked her nipples, sucking at one breast and then the other, as his hand slid down between their bodies and his fingers began to tease her pussy. 

he didn’t say any ridiculous things as he stroked her clit. he didn’t ask any weird questions as he slid his fingers inside her, knowing what she liked and how. he filled her pussy without her needing to explain a single thing to him. 

he kissed her softly as he worked her open - stretching her the way she had been dying to be stretched for weeks. he was three fingers deep in her without any awkward exchange about how ‘yes’ she liked that feeling - she liked the edge it brought her to. but it was also basically required for a guy with a dick like seungcheol’s. 

she had missed his dick. 

she pressed him back gently, interrupting the normalcy of it, “can i go down on you?” she whispered. 

he nodded, “yeah, but i was about to do that to you,” he said with a soft smile. 

she reached up, smoothing his bangs, “we could both do it?” she asked, shrugging, pouting just a bit. 

his smile widened, “you really do miss it then?”

she flushed, wondering who the actual fuck had told him that little juicy nugget of information. and also, not really caring, because yes - she had. 

she nodded. 

and they moved so she was lying across him, her pussy in his face, and she was staring directly at the cock that she measured all other cocks against. were they as long as his? were they as thick as his? did they just look like a thing that belonged deep in her throat because his always looked that way.

she was felt his fingers and tongue making quick work of her - his fingers roughly massaging that little spongy spot that did things to her, while his tongue worked her clit. 

she moaned as she licked and sucked the head of his dick - she used her hand to work his length, squeezing the base of his cock tightly and loosening her grip as her hand came closer to her mouth - she pulled off, spitting in her hand before going back to working him. 

she took him deeper in her mouth, letting the head of his dick hit the back of her throat, loving how the smooth, soft skin felt against her tongue. she wanted him to fuck her face and make her gag.

but it was early in the morning - she knew he just wanted to fuck. not f u c k.

she knew she was close to coming, but she wanted to taste him. she started to work quicker, moving her mouth and hand in unison, creating the illusion that she was taking him deeper than she was - she could feel the hard way he was gripping her ass now.

she could hear his soft groans, and the gentle, whispered, “yeah, baby, just like that - so fucking good,” even as he dove back into her, licking and sucking her until she came, until she was a dripping mess that he licked into even more. he finally pulled back, “fuck, i love how you come for me.” he leaned back in, kissing her opening and licking into her - his fingers working her clit again. 

she shivered from the overstimulation, but she kept working his cock, licking and sucking even faster, until she felt the sudden explosion of liquid heat in her mouth - she forced herself to take him deeper, wanting all his cum down her throat. she swallowed and gagged around him. she kept pumping him, until she was sure she had swallowed every last drop. 

when she landed on her back again, and he grabbed her waist, pulling her into the position he liked - her legs wide, one over his shoulder, his hands under her ass lifting it so he could thrust fully into her. she loved when he made her take all of his cock. 

“miss this, baby girl?” he asked - his voice was so low. 

she nodded, “missed it so much,” she whined, grabbing the sheets before he was even inside her - she knew how good it would feel. and with how long it had been, she was sure it would be like the first time - like he was splitting her apart. 

and was she ever right about that part - she bit the back of her hand to keep from screaming. he didn’t stop to say anything - he knew she loved it - knew she loved the way he stretched her every time - not just the first time. 

she was a whining, whimpering mess - she could feel tears pricking the edges of her eyes as he was really fucking into her - rolling his hips relentlessly. 

when he reached down and grabbed her chin, “crying for me?”

she nodded.

“that good?” he asked, breathless and grinning smugly.

she nodded, “so fucking good cheol - i’ve missed you so much,” she whined. 

she definitely hadn’t meant to say that, and even in her dick-addled mind, she hoped he took it as ‘i missed your dick.’

but she felt him pause, it was this one millisecond of him staring at her, having heard her perfectly, knowing exactly what she meant. 

she was shocked when he shifted their position, all so he could lean down and kiss her while still managing to fuck her brains out. sloppy, sweet kisses that almost distracted her from what his cock was doing. 

“missed you too,” he whispered as they pulled apart.

and he sat back up, picking up both her legs this time, putting them over his shoulders, so his dick somehow hit even deeper. 

she yelped from the impact of his dick hitting as deep as he possibly could, pounding her cervix - not to mention he had decided to stroke her clit too.

she knew the familiar sound of her pussy being that wet - the lewd sound it made every time he thrust inside her, every time his dick hit just right - she knew what she was on the precipice of - and then it happened - he pulled out just in time for her to pussy to gush as she came. and then he was thrusting back into her, fucking her like she needed him too. until she felt him come - felt him fill her full and fuck it deep inside her. 

lying next to him after, even if he told her to ‘fuck off’ - at least she had gotten one more great fuck from him. 

but when he pulled her close and curled around her, she had the feeling she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. 

a/n: i've never written anyone in a 69 before - kind of fun hehe anywayysssss bingo responses are still be responding to, so if you want to send in an ask, feel free - i'm just a bit slow since i finally picked a long fic to work on

♡ kat

if you want to submit a bingo request, here are the bingo choices - just send an ask:

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♡ bingo reqs master list

♡ seungcheol: knotting + marking || professor (prof. choi, pt. 1) || monster || spanking (neighbor seungcheol) || big dick + hate sex || forced masturbastion (prof. choi, pt ii) || voyeurism + punishment || coffee shop au + forbidden relationship (untitled alpha!!cheol pt. 1) ||

♡ mingyu: lingerie + praise kink || bed sharing + big dick || praise + worship kink || vehicle sex + oral fixation || drunk pda + no underwear || enemies to lovers + tentacles ||

♡ seungcheol & mingyu threesome: oral ||

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[schlattslonghairytoes]

can i come over?

when schlatt moves to texas an unexpected storm leaves him with no where to go, will you offer up a room to your friend?

streamer reader x streamer schlatt

you had lived in texas since you attended college at texas a and m

orginally you went to ithica college, but you transfered during your sophmore year

you now had your own apartment as you were out of college

you knew a couple of other content creators who lived in the area, but not many

your closest friend, ted nivison, lived in los angeles, but you went to visit him every now and again

your phone rang, "gangnum style" blasting in your ears and groaned, you reached for your phone, only to be met with a picture of you and theodore from college freshman year

"i need your help guppie." teds face filled the screen and his dopey smile made you laugh

"you woke me up mr grouper." your nicknames came from the first time you got high together and decided to watch bubble guppies

"wakey wakey! does this fit look ok?" he set the camera down and walked away from the camera, he did a little spin before grabbing his phone again

"yes you look very fashionable theo. can i go back to sleep now?" ne nodded but very quickly realized he had something else to tell you

"wait really quick, remember schlatt? you met him during the lunch club era" you scanned your sleepy memory trying to remember this guy you probably met once.

"um, tall right? good looking?" ted nodded and laughed, sitting down at his desk

"glad to hear thats what you remember. anyways, im pretty sure hes moving out to Austin in the coming months, so you guys should talk cause he only knows a handfull of people out there." ted said

"cool. can i please sleep now." your tired brain did not care for this random man barely remember.

"yes, reach out to him ok?" he smiled at the camera

"yes theodore kennedy nivison junior. love you. byeeeee" and with that you ended the call.

you didnt really think about teds call all that much, untill around 3 months later you recieved a text from an unknown number

even though schlatt then tried ghosting you, ted finally convinced him to man up and keep talking to one of the few people living where he was soon moving

over the span of a month you two had been constantly talking, to the point where you were starting to consider him as one of your closest friends

you would facetime atleast once a day, text everyday, and you even streamed twice together on your account

you were getting very excited to have a new friend so close by

then came the storm.

you lived alone with your dog, and you knew your house would not be ready for this shit.

you stalked up on food, blankets, flashlights

basically anything you could get your hands on

and you bunkered down at your house with your dog, getting ready to thug the next few days out

you were scrolling on your phone, on the first night of the storm, power already out, house fucking freezing, and you see schlatt had posted on his snap story

you open it to find a video of him yelling outside of a completely dark marriot

screaming about how thats where he is supposed to be staying

and you were getting very worried, like your new friend who youve never met in person, might deadass freeze to death.

so you did what any caring soul like yourself would do

you swipe up on his story with your address and a follow up message saying "pull up to mi casa papi 🍆 "

and hope he would hurry so you could go to bed

around twenty minutes later you layed cuddled with your dog bundled in over ten blankets

when felt your house fucking shake with how hard schlatt was banging on your door

you walked downstairs, and opened the door, to a giant, shivering, and covered in snow schlatt, who you immediatly wrapped in a hug and dragged upstairs

"c'mon lets get you nice and warm." you brought him to your room where you turned your bed into a nice warm spot for him "i have some clothes for you, they were my brothers so they should fit" you smiled up at him

he hadnt said much yet and you could see the stress seeping through his face, he dropped his stuff and kinda just hugged you.

"you ok?" you laugh as he pulls away from the hug. he smiles sadly before sitting down on your bed

"ive been better ill be honest" he laughed quietly.

"some first day here huh?" you pat him on the back, trying to comfort him.

"you could say that. holy shit i thought that was a stuffed animal" he says looking at your dog

"go change dumbass, bathrooms on the right" you watch as schlatt takes the clothes and walks to your bathroom, you think you even hearhim flick on the light switch.

"do you want a flashlight?" you yell out to him, to which you get a small "please" back in return, you laugh and leave a flashlight infront of the door

you get comfy in the small sofa in your room, as schlatt was not going to fit on it, and your other bedroom was turned into your office. but you didnt mind him taking the bed

he came out of the bathroom minutes later and quietly shut the door behind him when he turned around he was looking at you kinda funny

you began to ask what was wrong before he cut you off "absolutely not, im not kicking you off your bed, get up" he towered over you on the sofa

"schlatt shut the fuck up, your not fitting on this thing, i barely do."

"you have a king size bed, were sharing, me you and that oddly stuffed animal looking dog c'mon get a move on" he got into the bed and waited for you and your dof to follow him

you laughed and made your way over, your dog following closely behind. you flop down onto the bed and look at the man laying next to you

"crazy this is the first time we're meeting" he says getting comfy

you lay another blanket on the both of you as your dog jumps up on the bed and lays between the two of you "im glad ted introduced us" you take a moment to inspect him

you two had called on discord many times and FaceTimed, but nothing lived up to the real thing.

"im really happy he introduced us too."

guys i kinda hate how this turned out

sorry 😣 😥 😦 😧 😨 😪 😢 😞 😰 😿 🫤 ❤️‍🩹 ☹️ 😐

[yellowharrington]

wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 5k+ oops

warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.

No one likes using dating apps.

Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.

This was Texas, after all.

Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”

No thanks.

It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.

You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting. 

Age range: 25-30

Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.

Age range: 35-45

Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel Miller does not use dating apps.

He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.

“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”

“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”

A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”

Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”

Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.

Paul, 41

Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.

You sighed deeply. Some things never change. 

After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.

Joel, 45

Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in. 

Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.

He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.

When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.

Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.

Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.

Joel has sent you a message.

Hey, darlin’. How are ya?

You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?

Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?

He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.

Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.

Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂

No good?

Not bad. 6/10. 

Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person. 

I would love to find out. 

You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.

Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.

He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.

There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.

I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.

Tomorrow, 7pm ok?

You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.

Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)

Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number. 

It’s Joel. This the right number?

Yup. You found me.

Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)

He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record. 

Joel was positively freaking out about this date.

Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.

Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?

His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.

“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”

“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”

He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”

“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.

“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.

“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.

“Nothing.“

“Are you going on a date?”

Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”

“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”

Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all. 

Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.

“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.

Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.

It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.

Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.

You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.

We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?

No worries if you did. I respect that.

You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?

You weren’t… completely against that.

Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)

Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.

His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.

You too, cowboy.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.

When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.

“Joel?”

Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.

“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”

“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.

“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.

“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”

“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.

You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you. 

“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip. 

He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.

“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.

“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.

“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.

“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”

You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”

“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”

You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him. 

“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”

It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.

You didn’t notice. 

A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.

“I’d love that.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.

“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?

“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.

“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.” 

You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.

“What about upstairs?”

Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.

“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar. 

You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.

“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold. 

You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.

You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.

When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.

“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.

It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.

Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.

“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.

He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him. 

His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.

Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.

“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.

His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face. 

When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.

“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.

He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.

He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.

“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.

“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.

“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.

“Yes, please, fill me up.”

You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.

The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.

He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.

He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.

“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.

A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.

“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”

You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.

“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”

You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss. 

You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.

“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head. 

In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”