#truly the joel of all time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedroscurls · 1 month ago

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let me show you (one-shot)

summary: joel comes home and shows you (and mainly himself) that age is nothing but a number.

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), established relationship, age gap (joel's in his 50s, reader's 30), unprotected p in v (be safe folks!), oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, mating press (i feel like this is joel's go-to), doggystyle, cowgirl, multiple creampies (oops), light manhandling, light marking, no use of y/n. word count: 5.5k a/n: so happy to take part at @yxtkiwiyxt's other "never have i ever" challenge for her one year writing anniversary!!! congrats on one year, kiwi - you're such a talented writer that it's so crazy to me that you've only been writing one year! can't wait to see what other stories you create - you got a lifelong fan in me and i'll read everything and everything you write 🫶. i chose joel miller and got the prompt: never have i ever had sex more than 3 times in one night. this is just complete filth, so please heed the warnings and most of all, enjoy <3

The entire drive home, Joel is seething. Hands gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. Jaw clenching so hard that he’s sure he’ll end up cracking a tooth or two. He isn’t even sure why he’s so angry, why some other man’s words have such an effect on him.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?”

The frustration radiates through his entire body, tense and tight. The age gap had been something he was wary of in the beginning, but you had always been the one to reassure him that age didn’t matter to you. He tries to hold onto what you would tell him—how safe he makes you feel, the way being in his arms brings you comfort.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?”

He had fired that man the moment it left his lips. Tommy had to hold Joel back, and could see the way his older brother’s eyes darkened with rage. His personal life was off limits. You were off limits. After firing him, Tommy had convinced Joel to go home, that he needed the rest of the day to just cool off.

And now, as he pulls into the driveway, Joel can’t help but hear those man’s words echo in his mind.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?”

He climbs out of his truck and storms inside. He knows you’re already home, knows that you’re probably deep in papers that need grading, knows that you’re going to be surprised to see him home so early…

But Joel is determined—he’s suddenly on a mission to prove to himself that age is nothing but a number.

He drops his keys in the bowl near the door, kicks off his boots and walks upstairs to your office. The door is slightly ajar and he gently kicks it open with his foot. You look up at him and the look of surprise flashes across your face before a large grin lines your lips.

“You’re home,” you set your pen down and stand up from your chair. “Everything okay at work?”

Joel just grunts in response, takes three large strides in your direction before he’s standing in front of you. “Need you,” he growls, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your face and past your shoulder. He leans in, presses a soft kiss on your jawline and down the side of your neck.

“Joel,” you whimper, moving your hands to rest on his hips. “Baby, hold on—What happened?”

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, teeth grazing your pulse point. He hears you let out a whimper and it only fuels him further. Only he could pull those sounds out of you. Age gap, be damned.

You try to push him away to figure out what’s truly going on, but he just wraps his arms around your frame and pulls you flush against him. Joel turns you so you’re leaning against the edge of your desk, your hands moving to his broad chest.

“Joel—”

He pulls back and looks into your eyes. You can visibly see that there’s something bothering him. His gaze is dark, brows slightly furrowed, eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched. “Think you can stop grading for one afternoon, baby?”

“Can you first tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothin’ goin’ on,” he lies, hoisting you up onto the edge of your desk. Joel immediately moves your legs apart as he steps in to stand between them. Slowly, his hands move along your thighs, gaze moving along your frame. There’s a hunger in his eyes, clear determination that you can’t put your finger on.

“You’re lying. You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Joel grunts and moves a hand to your cheek, thumb brushing lightly along your soft skin. “Just wanted to get home to be with my girl, that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” you answer. “But something’s clearly bothering you and—”

“Ain’t nothin’ botherin’ me, darlin’,” he interrupts. “Now, can you stop talkin’ so I can kiss you, hm?”

“Me talking never stopped you before–”

Joel grunts in reply and leans in to press his lips firmly against your own. Immediately, your hands card through his hair, gasping when you feel the urgency of the kiss. His hands roam your body, already sliding them underneath your shirt. The way his lips move against yours—hurried and desperate—catches you off guard and you’re finding it incredibly difficult to keep up. You part your lips, slowly trying to pull away from him to truly get to the root cause for his sudden behavior, but he doesn’t let you.

Instead, his large hands grip your hips, tug you to the edge of your desk so that his jean-covered bulge presses firmly to your already throbbing core. Joel’s lips move effortlessly against your own, tongue darting out to flick against your own. You whimper against him and he growls in response, pulling back only slightly to nibble on your lower lip—this action alone causes your legs to wrap around his waist and pull him even further into you.

“Joel,” you mumble breathlessly, gently tugging on his hair to pull back from him. You’re breathing heavy, lips swollen, eyes dark when you finally look at him.

“Gonna spend the rest of night showing you how much I love you,” he promises, rolling his hips against you.

“Baby,” you moan out quietly. “You always show me how much you love me.”

“Hm,” he answers. “Not enough. Never enough.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Nothing happened at work?”

Joel shakes his head once. “No, now can we stop talkin’ about work?”

You nod and slowly move away from the desk to stand in front of him. You take his hand, play with his fingers before lacing them together with your own. “So, just me and you tonight?”

Joel nods, “just me and you, baby.” He stares at you for a moment and all of a sudden, the man’s words from earlier comes back—serving as a reminder of why he had been upset in the first place.

He releases your hand and tosses you over his shoulder. Joel hears you let out a quiet gasp of surprise, but he begins making his way out of your office and down the hall to the bedroom. It doesn’t take him long, but he can feel the strain in the center of his jeans when your hands begin to roam his body.

Once inside the room, he tosses you onto the mattress. You prop yourself up on your forearms, but Joel—once again—tugs you to the edge of the bed. He wastes no time in hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs with your panties, tossing the articles of clothing carelessly to the side.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself. He parts your legs and licks his lips eagerly, your sex glistening with your own arousal.

Joel reaches down to undo his belt, followed by his zipper and button on his jeans. He pushes them down his legs, kicks them off to the side, and reaches for the ends of his shirt to lift over his head. Now clad in only his boxer briefs, Joel watches you remove your shirt as well, lying back on your forearms once you’re completely bare and naked for him.

He reaches down and squeezes the length of himself, hardening even further at his touch. Joel leans over you, hand pressed on the mattress near your head as his free hand comes to settle between your legs. His fingers begin to make quick work, gathering your arousal on his fingertips as he teases your opening.

“Always this wet for me, aren’t ya?” He whispers, leaning down so that his lips hover near your ear. Joel hears you let out a gasp when he slides in the tip of his middle finger—your walls welcoming him almost immediately.

“J—Joel,” you moan, eyes fluttering. Joel slides his middle finger further into your depths, down to his knuckle, before he pulls it out completely. His entire digit is glistening and he brings it up to his lips, licking and sucking your arousal off his finger.

“Christ,” he groans. “Can never get enough of you.” Then, Joel settles onto his knees in between your legs. He presses soft and light kisses on your inner thigh, gently nipping along the way. Though, once his lips hover near where you need him the most, he lets out the most animalistic growl you’ve ever heard.

You sit up on your forearms, eyes glazing over and beginning to flutter when you feel him lick a stripe along the length of your sex. He keeps his eyes solely focused on you, one hand moving up your body to push you to lie back down.

“Just relax,” he whispers. “I got you, baby. Always got you.”

You finally fall onto your back when his lips move towards your clit, tongue flicking against you repeatedly. Your hands move to his hair immediately, pulling and tugging as he applies more pressure.

Joel knows he could do this for the rest of his life if he could. He ruts against the mattress—your sweet taste only fueling him further. He grunts against you when you pull and tug on his hair and he can feel your arousal drip down his chin. He moves his hands to your legs, holding them apart as he pulls back to look down at you.

“Look at you,” he says with a low groan. “Lyin’ there lookin’ so pretty.” Joel doesn’t let you get a word in because he leans back down, grips your thighs, and moves his lips to your sex.

Your back arches—the burn of his beard scratching against your inner thighs, the way his tongue expertly moves in and out of you. A loud moan escapes your lips when you feel his thumb slowly begin to rub circles into your clit. You know you’re close, can feel the pressure building and building. When your eyes lock with Joel’s, you see the corners of his lips lift—the man is fucking grinning.

He pulls away, but before you can whine in protest, he slides two fingers past your folds. Your hands move from his hair to the sheets, gripping it tightly as you feel him expertly begin to move his fingers in and out of your depths. You’re so wet, the sounds of his fingers squelching with each thrust into you mixes in with your moans. Joel knows—he always knows when you’re close.

As he pumps his fingers in and out of you, Joel leans down and latches his lips around your clit. It’s just what you need to be pushed over the edge.

Your back arches in the air, legs attempting to close and squeeze around his head—unintentionally—as your body trembles with pleasure. He slows his movements, pulling back and away from you. His fingers easily slide out of you—your arousal already staining the sheets of the mattress.

You’re breathing heavily when you finally look in his direction. You can see your arousal glistening on his chin, over his beard. You watch him push his boxers down, his manhood springing at attention. Clearing your throat, you slowly turn on to your abdomen as he stands upright. Before he could even say anything, you reach out and wrap your hands gently around the base of his length.

You glance up at him—there’s just something in the way he’s standing above you that causes a shiver to run through you. He reaches down, gently pushes your hair away from your face, thumb brushing against your jawline.

“So pretty, baby,” he whispers. His eyes flutter for a moment when you slowly begin to stroke the base of his manhood. When you lean forward to wrap your lips around his tip, Joel moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head as a low groan escapes his lips.

You hum in approval, feeling his hand slowly push your head down against him. You get the hint—moving one hand from his base to rest on his hip as you take more of him into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around him as your other hand strokes what your mouth can’t take.

When you glance up at him, Joel’s head is tilted back—neck outstretched, veins more prominent, broad chest heaving up and down, and his lower lip pulled between his teeth. He always looked so beautiful like this.

Suddenly, you feel his fingers curl into your hair and pull you away from his slickened length—it glistens with your saliva.

You whine in protest, trying to lean forward to wrap your lips back around his throbbing manhood, but he clicks his tongue and holds you away from him.

“Not gonna last if you keep that up,” he admits honestly. “And tonight, I want you as many times as I can.”

“Joel,” you bite your lower lip, hands moving up his chest. “Once is enough and—”

He shakes his head and pushes you onto your back. His strong arm wraps around your waist and slides you further up onto the mattress as he settles himself between your legs. Joel stares into your eyes and with his free hand, grasps his length to run his tip along the length of your sex. He gathers your arousal around his tip, growling lowly to himself as he notches himself at your entrance.

“Not tonight it isn’t,” he finally answers, pushing fully into you in one long and deep stroke. Joel groans when your walls envelope him—warm, wet, tight. He always loves it when he thrusts into you for the first time because it serves as a reminder of how perfectly you were made for him. He sees the way your face contorts into pleasure—mouth slightly agape and brows furrowed with a quiet whimper escaping your lips; he finds it so cute how you always try to hold back your sounds of pleasure.

“J—Joel,” you moan, hands moving to come up to rest on his broad shoulders.

Something in him snaps and there’s a primal urge that courses through his veins as he stares down at you. Joel takes your hands from his shoulders, gently placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, before he grabs your legs and places them over his shoulders instead. At the new position, he feels himself slide further into your depths and it only urges him further. He pushes into you, his own hands resting at either side of you as he pulls out to his tip only to thrust back into you.

You’re folded in half—body beginning to tremble already as he picks up the pace in his thrusts. You had a very healthy sex life with Joel, but this time… this time it feels so different. It feels like he’s on a mission to prove something to himself.

The sound of his skin smacking against yours echo the walls of the bedroom, your moans increasingly becoming louder and louder. Your hands move to his lower abdomen in an attempt to push him away because you feel the pressure creep up once more. He growls in response and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“Close huh, baby?,” he growls.

“Joel, p—please,” you whimper, toes curling. You can’t move—hands pressed into the mattress, legs thrown over his shoulders, and his entire body pressing into you. It’s by far the most intimate position you’ve ever experienced and the way he’s slamming into you pushes you over the edge.

“Joel!” You moan loudly, walls already clenching around him as your body trembles once another orgasm takes over your entire frame.

“Fuck,” Joel groans, releasing your wrists to rest his own large hands on your hips. His own thrusts begin to falter as he feels his release begin to creep up quickly. He tries to think of something else, tries to make this last longer, but the way you’re tightening around him just pushes him over.

He slams into you once, twice, three times before he releases into you. Joel lets out a guttural groan, the hands on your hips tightening its grip as he slowly rolls his hips into you. Slowly, Joel moves your legs from his shoulders to instead wrap around his waist loosely and he looks down between your bodies to see his spend trickling out of you once he pulls out.

You’re breathing heavily, staring up at him with a dazed look on your face. You gently reach up to touch his cheek, feel him lean into the pit of your palm as he stares deeply into your eyes. “Where did that come from?”

Joel shrugs and gently pecks your lips. “Just wanted you, baby.” Slowly, he pulls away from you and stands from the bed to grab a wet and warm towel to wipe his release from between your legs. He watches you shiver against his touch, eyes fluttering when the towel brushes against your most sensitive areas and he smirks.

“Joel,” you whimper.

“Sorry,” he grins proudly. Once you’re cleaned up, he sets the towel in the laundry basket and then falls back onto the bed with you. You lie on your side and he comes up behind you, arm draped over your midsection as he brings you flush against him. He peppers light kisses along the back of your bare shoulder. “Love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” you tilt your head back against his shoulder and shut your eyes. “Made me tired,” you whisper, voice trailing off. “Didn’t even have dinner yet.”

He chuckles and shuts his eyes, holding you close. “How about we take a short nap and then I’ll feed you, hm? That sound like a plan?”

“Yes,” you reply with a small smile, turning your head just enough to press a soft kiss onto his cheek. “Maybe you should come home early more often,” you giggle.

Joel’s jaw tightens as the man’s words echo in his mind again. He doesn’t reply—just holds you closer to him and feels you relax in his embrace.

Joel awakes almost an hour later—you’re still leaning back against him and his arm is still wrapped around you from behind. He can hear your quiet breathing, takes a peek in your direction to see you peacefully asleep. He feels you shift back against him and he’s suddenly aware of the lack of clothing that you both are wearing.

His mind drifts momentarily, remembering the events that unfolded just an hour ago. He can still feel the anger bubbling within him, can still hear that man’s voice echo in his mind.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?”

His arm remains draped over your waist and his large hand soon encompasses your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple. He hears you let out a quiet moan and Joel can feel his lower half begin to stir. He’s surprised that after an hour, he can feel himself getting hard all over again.

Slowly, Joel presses himself firmly against you from behind and moves his lips along the side of your neck. As he begins to pepper light kisses on your skin, his hand begins to massage your breast into the pit of his palm. He hears your breathing quicken and quietly—in that sweet voice of yours—you say his name.

“Joel,” you whimper.

“Shh,” he whispers, teeth grazing your earlobe. Joel releases his hold on you and gently moves you to lie on your abdomen. He quickly moves to hover above you, his legs placed on either side of you. His large hands move to your backside, spreading your cheeks apart as he lets out a low growl at the sight of you. “Can’t get enough of you,” Joel growls.

He grasps his hardening length, tugs on it twice before he presses his tip into your slit. Slowly, Joel pushes his hips forward—you’re already so wet and gripping the head of manhood as he pushes himself further into you.

Your hand reaches back for him, trying to press against his lower abdomen to stop him from pushing any further. You’re already so sensitive—walls quivering as he grabs both your wrists to hold against your lower back. With one stroke, Joel fills you to the brim and he feels you begin to squirm against him.

“Joel!” you exclaim, eyes falling shut as you press your forehead against the mattress. He feels so much bigger like this and when he pulls his hips back—your walls sliding along his length—only to slide back into you, it causes a loud moan to escape your lips.

“H—-how?” you mumble, feeling his hand release your wrists only to grip your hips, pulling you to prop yourself up on all fours.

Joel doesn’t reply, the man’s words echoing in his mind with each thrust.

“Aren’t you old enough to be her father?” — thrust.

Your hands grip the sheets so tight because Joel’s never been this rough before. With each thrust, Joel’s jaw tightens. He grips the back of your neck and pushes you face down onto the mattress as he slams into you repeatedly from behind. His skin slaps against your own and you can feel the tight grip he has around your hips—knowing that there’s going to be bruises there later.

“J—Joel!” you moan into the mattress, pushing back against him as you feel yourself begin to reach yet another orgasm. Your walls begin to tremble, can feel a rush of wetness between your legs and the pleasure racking through your entire body.

“Fuck,” he finally moans—your walls tightening around his length in a tight grip. Joel leans over you, hand moving from the back of your neck to grab a fistful of your hair to lift your head off the mattress. He breathes heavily into your ear as his thrusts begin to falter. “Come for me,” he demands, thrusting into you that your body jerks forward.

“I—I can’t,” you whimper. Your entire body is on fire and you’re so close to the edge, but you’re holding back… and Joel knows because his eyes narrow at your words and he leans down to gently bite down on the side of your neck.

“I said,” he groans, delivering yet another hard thrust. “Come for me.”

With his free hand, Joel reaches down and begins to circle your clit. It’s just the right amount of pressure for you to reach your peak. Your toes curl and your eyes shut tight as a loud moan escapes your lips. Joel smirks proudly, releasing his hold on your hair as he grips your hip instead.

Joel delivers one, two, three thrusts before he releases into you. His eyes fall shut, head tilted back as he tries to catch his breath, slowing his thrusts as your walls continue to milk every last drop. When he finally pulls out, Joel opens his eyes to watch his release slowly drip out of you and onto your inner thighs.

He bites his lower lip and falls back onto the bed next to you, lying on his back as he glances over at you.

“Well,” you whisper, looking over at him. “That was something.”

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asks with soft eyes—his big, brown, puppy eyes staring at you with concern now that his mind is clear.

“Would you hate me if I said it wasn’t enough?” you tease, leaning over to peck his lips. “You promised me food and instead…”

“You were just so…” Joel bites his lower lip, his gaze raking over your frame with lust-filled eyes. “Inviting.”

“Maybe I should sleep naked more often,” you grin, standing up from the bed to walk towards the bathroom to clean yourself up.

“If you do that, ain’t nothin’ gonna get done,” he chuckles. Joel stands up as well, walking after you as he wraps his arms around you from behind. “What does my girl want to eat?”

“Can you order a pizza?” you smile, wiping his release from between your legs. You toss the tissue into the trash and then lean back against him, head resting against his chest.

“Of course, baby,” he smiles, turning his head to kiss your temple.

You take note of the marks on your hips and the darkening spot on the side of your neck. You bite your lower lip and slowly turn in Joel’s arms, staring up at him as your arms wrap around his neck. “Gonna have these marks on me for a few days at least.”

Joel arches a brow, eyes glancing down at the mark on your neck before his gaze lowers to your hips. He blushes and rests his forehead against your own. “Sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be,” you smile, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, small smile lining his lips.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m all yours, so let’s let the entire world know,” you tease.

“Naughty,” Joel chuckles.

“Only for you.”

Joel growls, hand moving to grasp your backside. “I like the sound of that.”

“Mmm,” you smile. “I don’t think I can go another round,” you say honestly. “I’m sensitive all over and I’m hungry.”

Joel leans in, pecks your lips lightly as he pulls away slowly. “Maybe you just need some food because I am determined to have you one more time before we call it a night.”

“One more time?” you ask, eyes widening. “We’ve already had sex twice in the last hour or so and—”

“Then we’ll eat dinner and I’ll have you again,” Joel interrupts with a grin. “Don’t put anythin’ on. I’ll have pizza delivered.”

“You want me to walk around like this?”

“Yes,” Joel growls.

“Yes, sir,” you smile innocently.

About thirty minutes later, you and Joel are in the kitchen with an opened box of pizza. He’s dressed only in a pair of boxers, but you’re completely naked—just like he said you should be. You’re sitting on the edge of the kitchen island with a slice of pizza in hand, humming contentedly as you take a bite.

“Good?” Joel asks with a grin, his own slice of pizza in his hand.

“Very,” you smile, finishing your first slice of pizza in record time. You see Joel arch a brow and you just roll your eyes playfully. “I gained an appetite.”

Joel chuckles to himself and moves to stand between your legs. “You did, huh? Why’s that?”

“I came like three times already, baby,” you tell him, reaching for another slice of pizza. “I really don’t think I can do any more than that. I’m already—My body’s just so sensitive.”

“Oh?” he asks, eyes looking at you from top to bottom. He moves his hands to your thighs and gently spreads them apart, looking between your legs to see your sex glistening. “How come you’re wet then, hm?”

“Joel…” you whisper, setting the slice of pizza down as you wipe your hands with a paper towel. “I’m just—I’m always wet whenever I’m around you.”

“That so?”

You nod, feeling his finger run along the length of your sex, gathering your arousal. You let out a quiet whimper, a shiver running down your body at the sensation. “Joel, baby…”

“Always so ready for me, ain’t you?”

You nod, biting your lower lip. “Joel,” you repeat. “I—If we have sex one more time, I won’t last long and—”

“Shh,” he interrupts. “Let me just take care of you, baby.” Joel lifts you off the counter and sets you down onto your feet. He leads you to the couch in the living room where he takes a seat and shimmies out of his boxers, kicking them carelessly off to the side. He can already feel himself getting hard as he grasps his length and begins to stroke himself to full mast. “Come on, baby,” he urges, pointing to his lap with his chin.

You nod and straddle his lap as your hands move to his shoulders. You slowly lower your hips to feel the tip of his manhood brush against you. Gasping, you lift your hips and stare into his eyes. Joel’s gaze darkens and he moves a hand to your hip, gripping it tightly as he pushes you onto him. Your walls—so wet—encompasses him tightly and he tilts his head back against the couch, a low groan escaping his lips.

Joel feels so deep like this and you begin to roll your hips forward and backward. The hair at his base brushes against your clit and your body begins to tremble already. Your hips move so slowly because that’s all you can take right now, but Joel… It’s not enough for him. Even with your fingernails digging into his shoulders, gripping it so tight, Joel needs more.

He moves his hands underneath you and lifts you slightly off his lap—just enough to give him space to begin thrusting upwards. Joel growls to himself as he looks up at you, your breasts bouncing as he thrusts upwards.

“Joel!” you moan loudly, wrapping your arms around him as you press your front against him—holding onto him tightly. “Baby, please…”

“You feel so good around me, baby,” Joel whispers into your hair, eyes falling shut. “Always so wet for me, always so tight… Fuck, you were made for me.”

“J—Joel,” you whimper, feeling his hands move to your hips instead as you roll your hips against his own. You keep your tight hold onto him, gasping quietly as you feel your walls begin to tremble yet again.

“Yes,” he groans, arms wrapping around your waist to guide you forward and backward on his lap. Joel knows he won’t be able to last either—he’s surprised that he was even able to recover so quickly in the span of two hours to do this three times.

“Love seein’ you like this,” he says quietly, feeling your arms unwrap itself around his shoulders. Joel feels your hands move to rest on his shoulders as you ride him like your life depended on it. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he grins, eyes scanning your face before his gaze lowers to your naked frame.

“Joel, baby… I—”

“I know,” he whispers. “Let go for me, darlin’. I got you.”

“Fuck!” you moan, head tilting back as you move your hips forward and backward quickly. Your body shakes with pleasure as the tightness builds and builds until you can no longer take it. You collapse into Joel, breathing heavily.

Joel groans to himself as he grips your hips, guiding you along his length as he chases his own release. It doesn’t take long because when you whisper his name, he feels the tightness in the pit of his stomach break until he releases into you for the final time that night.

Joel rests his forehead against your own, feeling himself soften while still inside of you and he makes no move in lifting you off his lap. Even as he feels his seed trickle down to the hair at his base, Joel keeps you seated on his lap, strong arms embracing you.

“Thank god it’s the weekend tomorrow,” you whisper with a quiet giggle.

“Why’s that?” he asks with a small smile.

“Because I’m sure that I’d have trouble walking,” you answer.

“You’re good for my ego,” he chuckles.

“Where did all of that come from?” you ask honestly.

Joel shrugs, staring into your eyes. “Nowhere.”

“You’re lying.”

He sighs and finally asks, “Does our age gap bother you?”

“What?”

“I’m old enough to be your father–”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt him. “Our age gap means nothing to me…”

“But it should, shouldn’t it?”

“A bit too late for that, don’t you think?” You shake your head, lifting your left hand in the air and taking his left hand in your other one, showcasing both of your wedding rings. “We’re married now, baby. We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Some– Some asshole made a comment and it just got to me,” Joel sighs.

“Did this happen at work?”

“Yeah,” he answers truthfully. “Fired him and Tommy had to stop me from doin’ somethin’ stupid and I just—” he sighs.

“Well, you just proved that age is nothing but a number, Joel. We had sex three times in the last two hours… And I’ve never had sex more than three times in one night so…”

Joel lets a small smile line his lips. “Never, huh?”

You shake your head. “You’d be the first.”

“And your last,” Joel finishes. “I’m sorry it got me,” he sighs. “I don’t usually care what other people have to say about our relationship, but for some reason… This just got to me.”

“If our gap bothered me, I wouldn’t have married you,” you say quietly, hands coming up to gently brush his hair away from his face. “I love you. All of you.”

“Even if I’m some old man?”

“An old man wouldn’t have been able to do what we just did,” you smile.

He chuckles and gently pecks your lips. “Love you so much, darlin’.”

“I love you too, Joel.” Slowly, you stand from his lap with a quiet whimper as you extend a hand out for him. “What do you say we take a shower and then spend the rest of the night cuddling?”

Joel smiles lovingly in your direction and stands from the couch, taking your hand. “That sounds like a great way to end the night, baby.”

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yearoftheotpevent · 4 months ago

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hello fan creators!

Year of the OTP is officially back for 2025 with a new set of prompts!

we've switched some of the prompt categories around in an effort to make the event more inclusive of all kinds of fanworks. we've also included song prompts this year! the playlist is on spotify here.

we want to give a huge thank you to everyone who participated in the last event - it grew so much larger than we ever expected and it's truly amazing how you all took our last set of prompts and made so many wonderful things. keep it up!

a couple housekeeping notes: we will not be reblogging every entry this year. mods will keep an eye on the blog if you have any questions, but the reblogs were too much last time. thank you for your understanding!

we will be closing the 2023 collection on December 31. thank you for your continued participation, but it's time to look forward!

the link for the new collection will be posted here January 1.

we're looking forward to seeing what you create this year!

alt text below the cut.

Year of the OTP 2025

The Rules: the Ao3 collection accepts any /-ship works inspired by a prompt from this sheet The Challenge: make 12 works for one ship in one year, using prompts from each month

*you do not need to do the challenge to post to the AO3 collection, as long as you follow the rules*

January first kiss ♦ “may I have this dance” ♦ sharing clothes ♦ BDSM AU ♦ stockholm syndrome ♦ Strong – One Direction

February Valentine’s Day ♦ “it made me think of you” ♦ bed sharing ♦ multiple penetration ♦ mind control/mind break ♦ Like Real People Do – Hozier

March fresh starts ♦ “what are you doing with that”♦ florist/tattoo artist ♦ phone sex ♦ major character death ♦ Take Care – Drake

April pranks ♦ “right in front of my salad” ♦ running away together ♦ dom bottom/sub top ♦ raised to be a killer ♦ Drops of Jupiter – Train

May hanahaki ♦ “we’re dating? since when?” ♦ body swap ♦ magical sex toys ♦ stalking ♦ Paper Rings – Taylor Swift

June pride ♦ “I can’t get you out of my mind” ♦ relationship reveal ♦ unconventional sex positions ♦ paying a debt with your body ♦ Good Looking – Dixon Dallas

July vacation together ♦ “I like my _ how I like my coffee” ♦ kidfic ♦ mutual masturbation ♦ dehumanization ♦ You May Be Right – Billy Joel

August Sports AU ♦ “you’re thinking too much”♦ cooking together ♦ object insertion/ penetration ♦ becoming a monster ♦ You Shook Me All Night Long – AC/DC

September high school/college sweethearts ♦ “come here” ♦ date night gone wrong ♦ semi-public sex ♦ abduction ♦ Thinking Bout You – Frank Ocean

October costumes ♦ “boo” ♦ online dating ♦ shibari ♦ mutual non-con ♦ Mr. Brightside – The Killers

November camping ♦ “are you sure” ♦ touch-starved ♦ cockwarming ♦ abusive relationship ♦ A Thousand Years – Christina Perri

December holiday traditions ♦ “where are you taking me” ♦ bathing together ♦ food play ♦ tortured for information ♦ Everything Is Alright – Laura Shigihara

#yotp #year of the otp #year of the otp 2025 #yotp 2025 #yotp25 #ao3 stuff #writing event #art event #prompt event #fanfiction #fanwork event #fan art #fanfiction writer #fan artist #yotp 25

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strang3lov3 · 10 days ago

Text

Out of Control

“M’serious,” Joel says, voice wavering as he tries to maintain authority. His cheeks and chest are painted the most gorgeous shade of crimson, and heat radiates from his skin. “I can’t - I’m not doin’ it again, sweetheart.”

“But it’s not up to you, Daddy.”

Tags - subby!joel, brat!joel/mean!joel? Lol. smut, unprotected piv, creampie, daddy kink, age gap, cum eating - making that old man swallow his own load (closed loop system), terrorizing that old man via cock and ball play, teasing, nipple play, orgasm denial/overstimulation. He also cries a little. Sorry, Joel. 2k words. A/N - “And then I splooge in her mouth, and—I know, I know! And get this, she kisses me and puts it back into my mouth, and I swallow.” “Which, the cum?” “I know. So hot!” “You swallowed your own load?”

Joel’s arms are around you, caging you in. You watch him roll his hips into you, the beautiful sight of his cock sliding in and out of your body, covered in creamy ribbons of your arousal. With every thrust, his head kisses your cervix and rubs against that sweet spot inside of you. “Oh, Daddy,” you moan, wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders. You reach for his hand and push it between your writhing bodies, panting Joel’s name.

“Yeah?” Joel breathes, pressing the calloused pads of his fingertips against your clit. “You wanna cum, baby girl?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, burying your face into Joel’s armpit as he rubs your clit in practiced circles, fucking his cock into you even deeper.

“Cum for Daddy,” he whispers into your ear, his mustache tickling the soft skin of your cheek. “C’mon, baby. That’s it, sweetheart.”

You cum with a soft cry, digging your nails into Joel’s skin hard enough to scratch him, not that he minds. A little soap and water, a bit of Neosporin and he’ll be golden. If he cares enough to even do that. Joel takes in all of your pleasure, drinking down your moans as he fucks you harder, timing his thrusts with the pulsing of your cunt. He breathes your name as he cums, pumping you full of his warm, sticky spend.

Joel pulls out of you quickly, uncaring about his mess you’re spilling onto his sheets. His heart pounds and his lungs burn as he flops onto the mattress, graying curls wild as they stick up in every conceivable direction. “Oh, goddamn. I love ya,” he murmurs, pulling you into his side. “You did good. We’re gettin’ ready for bed, now.” He gives you a quick kiss on your forehead, then reaches for his reading glasses and the book he’s been reading to you.

As Joel searches for his place in the book, you stare at him, contemplating. He seems relaxed, yes, as he passes a hand through his damp curls. More relaxed than usual at least. But he’s still so…so On. But that’s just Joel, right? Joel, who makes time for you, but never for himself. He masturbates every morning in his lukewarm shower with his hand against the tile, and he comes in less than two minutes. Gives himself a thorough scrub from head to toe and he’s off to do whatever it is he does all day, whatever it is that keeps him so busy. Always go, go, go.

A truly relaxed Joel would be a sight, you think. A Joel all fucked out and lightheaded, humming to himself as the aftershocks of his pleasure wash over him, long after the orgasm’s ended. Joel leaves you in that beautiful, blissed out state all the time. Would it be so insane to do the same to him?

“What the–” You lift Joel’s arm and slide out from under it, crawling backwards down the mattress. “Where the hell are you off t–oh.”

You settle yourself between Joel’s legs, and rest the side of your head on his hip, his belly pressing into your forehead. You reach for his soft, leaking cock and play around with it, which makes Joel chuckle quietly. “Guessin’ you ain’t done with me yet, are ya?”

“Mhm,” you hum, tracing down his shaft. He looks amused. You pet his pubic hair, gently twirling your fingertips around the curling, graying, wiry strands, damp with sweat, cum, whatever.

Joel rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh. Knock yourself out, kid.”

He doesn’t buy it. Joel knows when he’s satisfied his girl. He’s pinpointed your limits and pushed you past them, and held that melted, fucked out version of you in his arms as you slowly made your way down to earth, like a feather falling through the air.

But that’s Joel’s problem, isn’t it? He forgets that you can be satiated for one thing, but hungry for another, and therefore not settled. At this moment, you want to find heaven between his thighs. Taste his pleasure as he’s tasted yours, bring him to those heights. Really, you want to milk him fucking dry - it’s as simple and stupid and animalistic as that.

You slide up his body, pushing yourself under his arms. Joel lifts his book and dog ears the page he’s on, then sets it on his nightstand. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, sweet girl?” he asks. “What’s goin’ on in that mind ‘a yours?”

You look down at the vast expanse of his skin, admiring his gorgeous torso. You slide your palm up his ribcage, noting the little breath he sucks in. With your middle finger, you trace around the rippled, silvery-pink edges of a scar on his abdomen. “Where’d this one come from, Daddy?”

“Ohhh,” Joel begins, looking down at the scar he thinks is so hideous. You think it’s beautiful, like the rest of him. “I got into it with a - oh, fuck.”

His words falter as you kiss his shoulder while running your fingertips from his collarbone to his chest, gently tracing over his nipple. You round it in circles until it stands at attention, then give it the sweetest, softest of pinches.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Nothing,” you lie, lowering your face to flick your tongue over his other nipple. You roll the one bud between your fingertips, feeling Joel’s chest rise and fall with deeper, shakier breaths. “Got into it with what, Daddy?”

Joel takes his glasses off and folds in the arms, then sets them to the side, missing his nightstand. They fall on the floor instead. “Uhh,” he drawls, voice cracking a little as you switch places, twirling your fingers around his wet nipple while licking at the other. His length thickens underneath you, twitching against your slit, and that only makes him harder.

“Tell me, Daddy.”

“Some - someone hurt Daddy real good,” Joel answers. You look at him with big, concerned eyes, pouting a little as you tease his nipple. ��Was a long time ago. But’m all better, now.”

You lean up to press your lips against Joel’s, and as quickly as the kiss begins is it over, with you kissing your way down his torso. Sloppy, wet, open mouthed kisses over his neck, a vein pulsing beneath your lips. Down his collarbones to his chest, kissing one nipple and across to the other, then down the centerline of his body. You drag your tongue down his happy trail and kiss just next to his cock, then lick your way up the perfect curve of his shaft. You taste his cum and your own arousal, humming at the flavor like you’re licking the batter off of the spoon.

“Ohhhh, lord,” Joel moans, feeling you gently kiss his balls. You lick over the soft, wrinkled skin, then suck as much of his sack into your mouth as you can. You can feel the sharp points of your canine teeth pressing against him, and you’re conscious to stay gentle. You’re not cruel, no. Don’t want to hurt him. At least not like this.

Silently, you kiss your way back up to his cock, and grip the bottom of his length with your hand. You take his tip into your mouth and swirl your tongue around the blushed, leaking head, tasting the small bead of precum that sits so pretty at his little slit.

Joel can’t do this. He begins to buck his hips, and it’s unclear whether he’s trying to fuck himself into your mouth or push you off his body. But he can’t fucking do this. Or maybe he can. Does he even want to? His dick is still tingling from the first orgasm, and fuck, you’re sliding down his length, and he’s now sucking in a strained breath. It’s too much, it’s too much, it’s too much.

Joel can feel his pulse in his fucking throat. “Oh, my heart,” he whimpers, clutching one hand against his chest as he tangles his fingers in your hair with the other. “S-stop,” he begs, “Ease up f’me, kiddo.”

You pull your mouth off of his cock with a pop. “But I want you to cum for me, Daddy.”

“Yeah, no. You milked - oh, Christ–” Joel’s voice breaks, “You milked Daddy fuckin’ dry, honey. No more. Not tonight.”

You simply ignore Joel’s desperate words, and close your lips around his girth, letting yourself drool as much as you please. You move one of your hands to his balls and give the pair a gentle, soft fondle as you move yourself up and down, tracing your tongue along that one throbbing vein.

“But it’s not up to you, Daddy.”

Joel lets out something between a deep, guttural groan of frustration and a laugh of disbelief. “You fuckin’ - fuck - you’re startin’ to piss me off, now,” he warns, tugging on your hair. And you just let him.

You squeeze his balls in a way less than kind, a warning. With a buck of his hips and a sharp gasp, Joel learns quickly that you’re just as serious as he is, and you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. Literally.

“Okay, okay okay - Jesus,” Joel whines. He surrenders himself to the pleasure and the pain, willing himself to cum so that this fucking…whatever the fuck it is you’re doing to him, is over. “I’ll cum for ya, alright? I’m - I’m close,” he insists. “Make Daddy cum now, honey.”

Joel’s thighs are twitching, muscles flexing in his soft tummy and his forearms as he grips the bed sheets tightly. “Kid–” Joel taps you urgently, tears welling up in his eyes. He wipes them away quickly and sniffles. “I need to cum, okay? Fuck. I need–”

“You have to ask, Daddy.”

Joel growls in frustration. “Can I,” he begins, breathing heavily, “Fucking cum.”

“I don’t know. Can you?” You kiss his tip and grin at his pained expression, feeling quite proud of yourself at the way you’ve managed to pull this off. Stringing his pleasure along, giving him just enough to keep him begging for more but not enough to push him over the edge. Poor, poor Daddy.

“Oh, fuck you,” Joel spits. “May I cum?”

“Manners, Daddy. Like you taught me.”

Joel balls his hands into fists and throws them at his sides, babbling something in anger and desperation. “I am gonna fuckin’ throttle you, kid,” he seethes, but you take the threat in stride. There’s nothing he can do to you that he’s not already done before.

“May I fucking cum, please.” Joel bites.

Joel only cums when you tell him to. An inhuman sort of scream claws its way up through his chest before he can even register that it’s he who’s making that noise, shooting rope after rope of his spend into your warm, wet mouth. Every nerve of his is raw, every muscle tensed as he bucks his hips into you. He lets out a sob of sorts and covers his tearful eyes with his forearm as you pull off of him, quickly crawling up his body. You press your lips against his and push all of his own cum into his mouth, and Joel makes a surprised sort of noise at the taste of himself. You cover his lips with your hand, forcing himself to swallow his own load as you kiss away his tears.

Joel takes wheezing breaths, pupils wide with anger. “Betcha feel real fuckin clever, yeah?” he snaps. “Where’d you pick that trick up from, huh? Jesus. Takin’ advantage of an old man, fuckin’...”

Joel trails off as you reach for his book, and lean over the bed to pick his glasses up off of the floor. You place the book in his hands, then put his glasses over his ears and perfect, aquiline nose. “Read to me, Daddy,” you tell him, then snuggle back into his side. He’s sweatier than he was.

Joel rolls his eyes, shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Read to you, huh? Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re goddamn lucky I love ya,” he says. “An’ that you’re fuckin’ pretty.” Joel finds his place in the book, then clears his throat and begins reading.

Thanks guys ♡ if you enjoyed, tell me somethin good here or in my inbox. This is my first time writing a submissive Joel! Your words keep me motivated to write. I love you all.

#THE TOM WAMBSGANS SPECIAL #Joel miller x reader #Joel miller x reader smut #Joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #Joel miller/you #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #sub!joel

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likesomeoneinlovee · 1 month ago

Text

𝐈 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Dbf!Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: Joel has had a ‘crush’ on you for a long time now and will make sure no man gets in the way of that.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: PW[with]P- kinda. Reader is not legal to drink but still legal. Polite reader just trying to not be a bitch while dealing with a pervy old man! Joel has a crush on you, a BIG one. Bro gets so mad he gets a boner. Mutual touching he drives, daddy stuff, a teeny bit of spanking & nipple play, unprotected PIV, tummy bulge, aftercare for once wow!! Part 2 planned [ will be smuttier once im not sick ] no beta,

A/N: ANON REQ!! (you know who u are and here’s my take on a bit of a jealous Joel) I would've done way more smut if I didn’t have a high fever rn + writers block 😵‍💫! so VERY rushed.

No man should covet a woman he doesn’t own.

And you weren’t his.

Your daddy would make sure you would never be.

Joel tells himself that. Over and over again, the only prayer in his head, the hymn he lives by ever since you’ve been staying with him per your father’s request. You yourself slowly recognizing Joel’s patterns of life. As he wakes up he takes pills for his headaches, swallowing them dry without a blink. His body is accustomed to the feeling. Every Saturday he’d take a weekly drive to the liquor store to stock up on the much needed provisions to his day-to-day routines. Booze, in much less dramatic terms.

Your father was out of state for work forcing you to settle up with Joel for a couple of months, the only man your father would allow you to actually be around. In fear of you doing something bad. Bad as in… Sex? You could only assume that’s what your darling daddy meant.

A rocky relationship in the cruel reality.

Joel’s home. It was livable, there isn’t much to say when it’s the house of a man who’s been living alone twenty years. Indications of life scattered upon furniture the only real telltale signs that someone actually lives there. Coffee table littered with rings from mugs he’d simply leave for too long, the way the worn, vomit-colored green couch sags in the middle. Any prints that were on the buttons of the TV remote had been rubbed off by pressing around them, the last time he had gotten a new television was probably going on fifteen years now. Sad. Truly and utterly sad.

Then you came along.

Remnants of your liveliness woven into the once so dreary place. Something as so simple as a hair tie left on the counter, the very vague scent of perfume you left lingering in the small space of the bathroom every time you’d leave it. Now at night he’d walk past the second bedroom of his home that had been left unused, once depressed and dark, had the warm glow of your lamp being left on, leaking through the gap between the door and the floor. The littlest things.

Joel pretends not to notice.

Though, he does.

He notices the way you hum so very quietly the times you’re obligated to cook your own breakfast. How you pull your knees up onto the couch when you sit. Rolling your eyes at him every time he’d vexingly tell you to make sure to lock the front door when you came in. You listened.

You’re too comfortable here. Too at ease.

And what’s worse is he was getting used to it.

He’s not your fuckin’ father. He’s not your keeper. He’s just the man your daddy trusted well enough to take care of you when he was gone. Sorry excuse for a babysitter all the while you weren’t a baby. An adult who can well take care of herself. Only agreed because he wouldn’t want you to discover how he’s been living for practically twenty years by being alone for two months. The dark quietness of a home when it was just you there.

He told himself it would be easy. Two months. He’d keep his distance.

It’s almost impossible. The way you made him feel was sickening. You’re always around. Sinking deep into the couch, marveling in whatever boring sitcom would play on the box of blue light that flickered throughout the room. How you’d take sips from his beer just to tease, wrinkle your nose at the taste deep down you liked. Making your tongue buzz. You were making yourself at home in a place that was never meant to be yours.

The only thing that worsened it for Joel is that you were so blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him.

He thought the hardest part of this arrangement would be keeping you out of trouble. Your father acting like if he was gone you’d fall apart as a person. Be out partying or fuckin’ every night. Far from the truth. Laying so contently home every night.

Coming back to reality, the hardest part was keeping himself out of it.

It’s the way you’d walk around his house in whatever you had slept in that night, no matter it be a tank-top and those tiny, plaid shorts that went up your ass. Appreciating the comfortability, though, he fucking hated it. You acted like you belonged there.

Often he’s finding himself watching you too long, staring at the curve of your mouth while you speak, the plump of your lips as you stay entertained by the television with your face at a gentle rest. He was always seemingly gawked.

Fifty-seven wasn’t the age to have crushes.

And on Sunday’s, the day of the lord, of course. Joel Miller goes to the local bar.

Nighttime was surprisingly when the crowd died down. You were surprised to see that as you walked through the doors that sheltered the poorly kept saloon style establishment. Tables seated with older men closer to Joel’s age, some luckier than others to be accompanied by a woman. Smelled like stale beer and sweat which in reality was more disgusting than appealing. Loud breaks in the casual conversions of the crowd as pool balls clacked together. Rejoicing coming soon after.

Usually you had something better to do on these nights. Going out with your friend’s always suffices though of course they canceled out today. Great, stuck with Mister Miller for a night of drinking all the while you weren’t allowed to let alcohol in your body at your age.He wouldn’t lie for you either, he was supposed to take care of you. Not turn you into the starts of an alcoholic.

Torturous. Did the man want you to shoot yourself?

He led you through the slim pickings of a crowd there really was, hand grazing the small of your back to keep you close. Nothing more. Both sliding your bodies onto the leather tops of the barstools. Uncomfortability was the price to pay for the first hand of drinks. A squeak in your stool that no one had the patience to fix.

“Whiskey.” The request sounded more like a plea from his lips. “Two.”

You knew the second one didn’t mean for you.

Rubbing his temple as he flagged down the waitress. She was all too polite for what seemed to be the shittiest bar on earth. As if a small town in Texas would give you any better. Nodding her head in your direction. Your lips pursed as if ‘Beer” was gonna be the next thing to move past them. Though, you digressed.

“Soda. I guess.” Joel gave a nod to you. Of course he approved of that action. Rubbing a hand over his jaw he sighed. Forgetting to take his pills this morning. Fuck, the throb behind his eye was something only the alcohol could numb by now.

“You could’a stayed home.”

“Yeah, I could’ve.” You shrugged, admittedly so you rather be home- no. You rather be out with your friends as you were supposed to be tonight but in an act of such kindness, you came here with Joel. “Maybe I wanted to see why you liked this place so much.” It was a simple muse to him, though it did strike your curiosity.

“Quickest bar from home. Quickest way to get drunk.” Curiosity met with an undeniably depressing answer. You were used to it by now. His lips pressed into a thin line. Once the barkeep came back she handed Joel his drinks, plural. As she also came with yours. Soda rimmed with ice. He picked up the first drink given, perspiration coating the glass. His thumb pressed against the cold lowball as he took the first sip. Heavy hot liquid sliding down his throat. Numbing him, his mind. Felt refreshed.

You hum, stirring the ice in your soda in circles with your straw. He hears the clinking over the din of the bar. Louder than his own thoughts.

You crossed your legs. Your thighs squishing together through the denim of your jeans, the material a bit loose on your body, a choice out of comfortability to buy baggier bell bottoms instead of the ones that hugged your ass tight. Drawing Joel’s eyes unintentionally.

Fuck this.

He drags his palm down his face, trying to wipe away whatever the fuck he was feeling. It’s sickening for him. It’s so easy to not feel like this when it’s something so simple, so selfish as a one night stand, a whore he had paid to suck his cock. Different. Far different, especially since the last month he’s spent his time admiring the woman before him. You. The innocence in your eyes that served your beauty. It was this crawling under his skin he wanted to rip away from.

So fucking vigilant on the scent of you, the sound of your voice, the way you shift ever so slightly closer to him as another group of men pass.

Joel breathes out slowly, averting his eyes to the sweet sight of you.

The night goes on, the whiskey dulling the edges of restraint with every slow, steady sip. Slowly the place was growing on you, the night seemed to cool it down, less noise less chatter. Seems everyone needed to knock out a couple drinks before settling. You would’ve been happy to say the same if you were allowed to order that beer. You propped your chin in your palm, your elbow flat against the bartop avoiding any of the sticky substances that would coat some unfortunate patches of it. Your eyes scan throughout the place. Not much to take in, not much to see.

Though the slow deliberate movements draw the tiniest bit of attention from a table your eyes accidentally glance at for too long. Subtle but inevitable.

Joel catches the way the men sitting at that table glance your way. The way you adjusted your body to once again sit straight up. Clearing your throat.

And that’s when it starts.

The first one wasn’t particularly bold about it. Just a flick of his gaze in your direction before returning to his minutes-til’-flat beer. The second man, greying, looks a little longer. Too closely. He nudges his friend, mutters something incoherent- something probably offensive to earn a laugh from him. Now he looked again.

Joel knows that look.

The kind that lingers for too long. That waits for an opening.

The kind that makes Miller’s teeth grind, his shoulders go rigid. His fingers slowly begin tightening around the glass of gold as he keeps his eyes forward. His eyes flutter just a bit to the left, seeing your smile. Trying to hide it by gently pressing your lips to the rim of your glass. Pretty pink lips. Before time heat is bubbling in his belly. Praying to god that was the fuckin’ whiskey.

Those men are still watching.

The next sip of booze doesn’t quite help as much as he’d want. It doesn’t smooth out the sharp edges of this feeling, the low simmering deep inside his pelvis. It keeps getting worse.

He’s coming over. Walking with heavy legs.

Joel sees it from the corner of his eyes, the way the man pushed back the chair, unhurriedly, sloppily walking straight towards you. From what Miller could gauge from the corner of his eye and what the wiry grey hairs covering the man’s beard told him is that he was older. Older as in his own age. Fifties either early or late. Joel wanted to die. Exhaling sharply, slamming down his glass a bit too hard.

Muddled, you’d lift your head from your glass to look at Miller with an eyebrow cocked. And before you could even speak-

“Evenin’.” The man spoke.

You’d blindly blink at the man now standing beside your barstool. Startled for only a second before schooling your expression into something- polite. Something surely this man was undeserving of yet you really couldn’t help it. Instincts.

“Hi.” Joel wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t acknowledge him. Not yet.

“Can I help you?” You smiled, sweetly.

The man would lean in as expected. The strong smell of beer radiating off his breath. Open-mouthed ogling like a fucking dog. He was clearly absolutely wasted. Just those words were an absolute understatement.

“Is this your daddy?” Of course he’d say that. Gesturing to Joel who was looking straight on before he turned a glance to the man, his eyes slits as he glared. Understandable. If you weren’t trying to give this man the benefit of the doubt you’d be glaring too. This guy was undeniably a fucking dick.

“No- no,” You’d giggle. “My babysitter.”

You didn’t like how your mind and soul was making you act, unfortunate your internal instincts were to be tooth-achingly sweet in public.

You wanted to die.

“S’my lucky day, huh?” You’d blink again. Silence as if the man had stole all the thoughts from your head- not in the good way.

“No. Not- not quite.”

You’d laugh, trying your best to brush it off. The man should go away soon. Probably just mistaking you for something you’re not while you’re here trying your best to avoid something awkward. Joel’s jaw clenched.

“Well,” He hushed. A finger twirled into one of your soft locks. Your body tensing as you kept up another nervous giggle– you were only egging him on more. “I just wanted to see you up close.”

“She ain’t interested.” Miller told the truth with that. You weren’t and you were further from interested. Though the nervous, dumb smile on your lips told the fuckin’ pervert otherwise.

“She didn’t tell me that.” He pushed. “I’d much rather hear that from your mouth, sweetie.”

You hesitated, your lips parted though words weren’t falling. Refusing. Alas, Joel Miller reached his breaking point.

He popped up from his stool as he moved over to the guy. The greying man hesitated at the sight, of course. He wasn’t gonna be the kinda man to get his ass beat over something fucking stupid. Though, Joel was willing to beat his ass for your sake.

A long beat of silence through the access chatter swimming around the bar enters the space between you, Joel and this sad fuckin’ man.

Joel doesn’t blink.

He doesn’t breathe.

He just stares.

The man exhales a chuckle, deep down he didn’t want to walk out of here with a broken nose for flirting with a girl he wanted to fuck. A girl he thought was alone, dumb enough to possibly join him and his sad excuses for friends sitting around his table.

“Didn’t mean any trouble, pal.” He threw his palms up in a mock surrender though, he didn’t mean it. That’s what that beer was for afterall. Stepping back only an inch, letting the hair that was between his fingers fall back to your shoulder.

“Just bein’ friendly.”

Joel didn’t answer, why should he? The man let out a scoff as he walked back to his table with his tail between his legs. That was good. All Miller could do was sigh. His shoulders still at unease as he sat back down on the bar stool. Your heart at a slow thump against your ribs.

You knew deep down that really, you were fine with that. Sure that man was a cuck, sure, you were uncomfortable, but you also knew yourself and you knew if that man would have touched anything else other than the tip of your hair. Oh fuck. He would’ve been gone.

Or– would he?

It doesn’t shake the feeling that Joel was annoyingly protective if that was the right word for it. That man wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to stick up for you.

He never did.

He ran a palm down his face –again– he couldn't take the way he was around you.

“Ohh, what the fuck.”

He was tired of this.

Goddamn if that happened a month ago chances are he wouldn’t have done anything other than roll his eyes and tell the fucker to go jerk off somewhere else but– oh my god did Joel wish he was the one that close to you. Breathing you in.

Of course, you weren’t a random woman at a bar.

If only he had enough balls to speak to you.

Pent up hormones ready to blow out of him every moment he was around you. He was too fucking old for this.

Too fucking old.

If he felt the rush of blood to his cock one more time this night he was gonna–

Joel was already moving by now. Already shoving back from the bar, the scream of the stool leg against the glazed wooden floor of this god forbidden place made you inherently flinch. His jaw tight, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he reaches for his wallet, tossing a few bills onto the counter without counting. He didn’t fucking care about the act of either over-paying or under-paying right now. He had one, sinfully unfortunate thing on his mind.

He knew he’d never do it.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinkin’ it.

Then his hand was on your wrist.

Grasping.

Firm. Unyielding.

“C’mon.” He gritted. “Time to go, baby.”

That was a new one. The name melting of his tongue like an instinct.

His grip was tight. Breathing hitched at the feeling of the grip. He was lucky it didn’t hurt. It was enough to make it clear he needed to get out of there. The reason wasn’t clear. It could be innocent on his part: he didn’t want you in a space where old men are looking at you. Ogling you like a slab of fuckin’ meat.

His real reason was sickening.

“Joel– c’mon!”

You’d whine, maybe you had a good reason to stay. Maybe you were just being defiant.

Typical, like a child.

He didn’t give you time to finish.

The bar stool nearly topples as he pulls you up. Stumbling in the boots you were wearing. Tugging you in tightly to stand beside him. He was tensed, heat radiating off his body like a goddamn furnace. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t speak as if there was a point to. Nothing he said got through to you anyways. He just moves.

People are watching. Who wouldn’t?

Your pulse spikes as you catch the amused glances throughout the pub. Folks who weren’t looking before now blinking. Causing a scene. Again,

You. Wanted. To. Die.

And to make it all better Joel’s eyes rip to the table those men from earlier were sitting at. The ones who eyed you. That same man who had harassed you muttering something to his friend beside him. Fuck.

He thought he couldn’t get any more pissed.

His palm covered his lips with no way to read. The music playing throughout the room covered any sounds of a hushed whisper into another man’s ear.

Though, Joel is pivoting.

His grip on you released as he took a heavy-footed stomp over to that table. He frowned. He wanted to kill them. He would if he could. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Jesus Christ, man.” One of the men mused. Of course, Joel Miller was just another sorry excuse of a man to them. “You don’t give it up do you.” Your babysitter wasn’t intimidating in a setting like this. To a man drunk as a fuckin’ skunk sitting with a bunch of men who reeked of the same stench.

Joel doesn’t move.

He goes to walk away. No. There was absolutely no point in doing anything.

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

“All I said is that if I were you I would’ve fucked her by now.” No. Nope that was it.

A quick turn back around and Joel had slammed his fist into the man’s face. Heavy handed. Joel’s knuckles cracking with the impact in the same note as the man’s nose.

“Fuck!!!” The man cried. It was well deserved. Why would Joel let a man talk to his–

You weren’t his.

Miller couldn’t breathe in the moment. His breathing ragged, watching the blood quickly drip out the man’s nostrils. God was it satisfying.

Your stomach plummets. You can confidently say you’ve never heard a man yell like that. Before the next tick of epinephrine hits Joel his hand now runs to your waist instead. Pushing you out the doors before running into the parking lot.

Holy fucking shit.

The air of the night hit you like a bucket of ice quickly. Suddenly you were regretting only wearing a thin hoodie with a tank top underneath. Joel was dragging you to his truck, practically throwing you into shotgun.

Slamming the door to your side.

He rounds the front quickly. Pulling open the driver’s side as he slid into the seat. You swore you could hear the way his breath shudders in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulls his seatbelt over his body– safety first, right?

The truck was suffocating. Too small. Too fucking warm.

You lick your lips, tasting salt. Your nerves were shot to hell. “Jesus Christ, Joel.”

He frowned. Fist on the shifter before pulling it into drive. He was speeding away, far away from that bar. Yeah, that one punch may had ruined his personal ‘holy day’ for a good while. If him and that man are ever in the same room again most likely one of them is getting there shit rocked and Joel worries that next time it may be him.

He doesn’t necessarily wanna take that chance. All because of something so FUCKING stupid.

He doesn’t speak. Nothing to say on his part as for you– too stunned to say anything. You had no understanding of why Joel Miller of all people, of all the men you know was acting like this. His fists balled against the steering wheel. Knuckles turning pale. Ghostly.

“Fuck.”

He broke the silence with a curse. He was mad. At least, he sounded so. The growl in his voice masked the need. He could feel every twist, every coil in his gut. All because of you.

He can’t keep hiding it.

“You’re makin’ me so fuckin’ crazy, baby.”

The smell of hard booze on his breath impregnated your nose. Slowly beginning to understand the acts in the bar. “That wasn’t me trying to flirt.” You quickly retorted. That was the honest truth that you’d be abiding by. You were too nervous to do anything except giggle like a dumbass so that’s what you did.

“I can’t help the fact I try to be polite. Even if they’re verging sexual harassment.”

You’d try to keep it light hearted with a quip. Joel didn’t laugh. Pursing his lips into a line before speaking. It only pissed him off more.

“Not what I’m sayin’.”

You breathe. What the hell did this man want from you if it wasn’t some reasoning from your lips? The road was wet, asphalt glistening with a sheen of rain making light reflect easily off like a mirror. As Joel turned his brights on to properly see through the dark road that light reflected into the truck. The formally dark truck.

Your gaze was pulled to his lap. An accident at first but–

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

His cock would writhe against the tightening denim of his jeans. If that didn’t tell you enough you didn’t know what would.

Joel’s hands flex against the wheel, the veins in his hands popping.

“Whatever you say, M’not fuckin, jealous.”

No no, he was.

And the tension rolling off of him is suffocating, filling the small front space of the truck like a thick fog. Choking you. You could almost still feel the touch he left on you. The phantom of his fingertips that had branded your skin only a few minutes ago now.

He wanted you to touch him and it wasn’t a secret anymore.

You reached your hand out to place on his thigh. The way his teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip. Yeah, he fucking needed this. You felt your own stomach bloom with heat as your fingertips just barely scathed the denim of his jeans. You were just so close. Closer than you’ve ever been. And if this is something to forever be forbidden,

For all you know this could be as close as you’ll ever be.

He adjusted his hips. Spreading his legs as if to coax you, as if to tell you this is the right thing. Maybe it was too vague. He took a hand off the wheel as he began soothing more into things. His shoulders finally relaxed as he took a long. Deep breath in. Then out. His fingertips danced along the crotch of your own jeans. Pressing the pad of his middle against your extremely clothed clit, muscle memory of where he knew it was.

He knew.

It was that touch that made your legs wanna buckle. Your cunt clench.

Your palm soothed up his thigh as he focused on the road. Eyes adjusting, focusing. While his cock focused all by himself. Finally your smaller hand went to the tent in his jeans. Taking your pointer and tracing a line up the curve of the bulge. Wooing a twitch from him. His finger pushed harder into your clothed heat. Rewarding him in your first gasp of the night.

“Jesus, baby. Soon enough I’ll be the one with the broken nose.”

A jest like that was hard to process currently.

“What do you mean-?”

Joel takes his hand away from between your legs just for a second to turn the radio on. Very very low, some old 80’s rock song came on. The background noise almost calming.

“Your daddy.” He’d grunt. “If he ever knew I was touchin’ you–”

“I know. My mouth is shut.”

It was a promise. A promise as your palm slipped beneath his belt.

Home sweet home.

Once the front door was closed the exchanges between your mouths were all teeth and tongue. Messy, sloppy. No shortage of drool dribbling down either of your chins. His fingers latching around the hem of your tank top as he pulled it over your head. No bra. Less work for him.

It was like clockwork how his big, rough hands scooped under your thighs to grab you, pick you up with a strained grunt ripping from his chest. He couldn’t remember a time where his cocks been this hard. He could almost completely promise that it’s never been. It was heavy and once his jeans were pulled down it was hanging heavy, loose in his boxers. Though his flannel stayed on. Unbuttoned, fabric framing his tummy and bare, soft chest.

You laid on his bed, splayed upon his blankets like a goddess as you awaited for him to finishing taking his clothes off. But he just couldn’t fuckin’ wait. The sight of you laying there, helpless. Those pretty, lace panties he wanted to rip off with his teeth made his brain turn to mush. He crawled on top of you, leaning down to place a hot kiss on your throat as his hands moved down to your ass.

“Don’t got time to take you over the knee, baby.”

This sentence came with a squeeze to the soft flesh of your ass. Flipping you over belly-down with his fingers tangled in your hair. Face stuffed into the pillow.

His hand came down firm on your lace clad ass. Watching the thickness of the skin ripple.

Again. Harder.

You let out a sharp whine at the feeling. Each left with a stinging buzz that lingered within the plush skin. You were addicted. Though, what was fun for a moment was soon boring for Mister Miller, his cock in a painful state in the confines of his boxers. Feeling like he was gonna burst any good moment now.

But were you ready?

He flipped you back on your back in a sinfully quick motion. One of his practiced, old hands laid flat against your stomach before slipping down beneath the lace of your panties, hooking a finger to the side before pulling them down. They were damp. That just wouldn’t suffice for him. His finger tested the waters, how gluey, slick your folds were. Taking what was currently dripping out of your hole and spreading it around like a glaze.

He dipped his head down into your sternum, his lips pressing firmly against the skin there before he deliberately moved to one of your tits. Brushing the pad of his thumb across the already hard nipple before taking it between his teeth.

“Fuck-! Joel-”

Funny, when you touched yourself you weren’t nearly this loud.

This sensitive.

The tip of his tongue swirled around the bud, it was smooth against his tongue. Warmer than your skin. His hips dug down deep into his own mattress. Mussing the blankets beneath both of your bodies as if they were neat before. He squeezed your other breast with his free hand, continuing his ministries just for another moment. Keeping his moments practiced and planned for the time being. He flicked your unintended, rock-hard bud with his free hand. Mind Numbing stimulation coursing throughout your body.

Your hand came down to paw at his erection straining painfully against the grey cotton of his boxers.

“Oh–”

He groaned, his hips pressing into yours before you could touch more. Clamping himself down so the only way you could feel him throb would be against your thigh.

“You think you’re ready, baby? Ready for my cock?”

Of course the answer was yes. He knew the answer was yes how you were writhing, practically salivating at the thought. Both panting like dogs. He pulled himself out of his boxers. The dim light of the room making it impossible to see was was between your legs. The details left unseen and unsaid as all you could rely on was feel.

You felt his head begin running up and down between your folds. With a girl so fuckin’ wet who needed lubracant. Your eyes squeezed shut as he began to push in.

You’ve never felt anything like it.

Funnily enough. He’s never felt a girl like you either.

“Joel!” You’d squeal. “Fuck, Joel– JoelJoelJoelJoel–”

You were quickly chanting his name under your breath like an invocation. He was big though a three-letter word so simple as big was a fucking understatement. He was stretching out every ounce of your gummy walls. Your head craning backwards into his pillow. His pillow. The scent of his hair, his scent all seeping into your nose mixing with the sensations throughout your body.

“S’fuckin’-- shit, babygirl…”

Joel’s words were slurring together as if he had drank more than those two lousy whiskeys at the bar. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist as you enveloped him. Clenching up every time the tip of his fat cock would graze your cervix. His hand pressed just over your pelvis. Feeling around, ‘til– oh fuck.

“Fuckkkkk… Feel that, baby?” You felt a lot of things right now, your body all too hyper-fixated on the feeling of him to focus on anything other than that. Then Joel took your hand. Trailing it down your stomach as he weakly supported himself with his left arm. Palm flat against the sheets. His bicep tense.

He brought your smaller hand down to your low stomach, feeling the bump there. The bump he was oh-so obsessed with. Jutting out against your palm.

“S’my cock. Yeahhh. He wants you, s’fuckin’ bad.”

He was barely there.

“--So. Fuckin’. Bad.”

He punctuated his words with every thrust. You wanted to call out, say something over and over again like your only fucking prayer. But words defied you in the moment. As soon as you felt the unbearable pressure build up in your gut, the pressure that took over, spilled from your pelvis to your pussy. You felt the wiry hairs that crowned his cock scratching against your clit only adding to the feeling. The feeling that was building and building.

“Joel– I’m gonna–!”

It was so cliché. The need to finish that sentence was gone as you couldn’t control it. Feeling the knot tied so uncomfortably tightly in your pelvis untie. You tried to keep it back, hold it in but it refused. Your hips wriggled against his as your orgasm came ripping through your body. Leaning up as best you could to bury your face in his neck to gasp. Cry out into his ear as much as you well pleased as you felt your legs kick out, your thighs buzz.

His cock curved inside of you, kissing a soft spot that you weren’t even aware you had. His pace slowing, becoming sloppier, rushed. His hips snappy. The way your walls squeezed around him, trying to milk him til’ he was dry. Just wasn’t safe for an old man like him to blue-ball himself like this, huh?

“Fuck- she’s gonna milk daddy dry, ain’t she–?” He was trying to kill you.

With that it was only one more thick, deep thrust into your tight, throbbing cunt where he spilled his cum inside of you. Using what little energy he had left to paint those pretty walls white. Rolling his hips to drive his semen into your pretty little hole. His thumb pushed past your parted lips, your mouth quickly latching on. Cock-drunk, suckling on his thumb to muffle any whimpers. No more cries.

“Atta girl.”

He’d praise. His sweaty, damp body pressing heavily against yours. He didn’t wanna pull out. It’s almost like his body wanted him to stay this way until he was passin’ out. Though, he wouldn't let that happen. He slowly unsheathes his thick cock from your pussy with a wet, squelch as your walls adjust back to normal. Opaque, pearly cum dripping out of your cunt, drooling down your inner thighs all the way to your ass was pornographic.

Reaching around the back of his head to seize a chunk of his greying, soft-to-the-touch curls. Your tongue licking his way into his mouth instead of his thumb.

You felt absolutely and utterly euphoric.

Laying with the blanket lazily draped over both of your bodies. Joel took a long sip from the bottle of alcohol, drinking it like water to refresh his mouth. He felt exasperated. He wouldn’t be able to pin point the last time sex made him feel this good if you were paying him a million bucks. But now he could say with you.

You tucked your face into his neck, taking in the scent of him, the stickiness of his skin. The salty scent of sex still lingering in the air around.

It was silent. Like you were both trying to process what had happened within the last hour- hell, the last three. Even the whole bar thing seemed like an impossible daydream you’d watch on a soap, something that you’d say is unrealistic.

“I was jealous.”

He murmured. Turning his attention back to you as the silence was officially broken. You could’ve figured as much.

“I guess I should be flattered.”

You’d giggle. Real and genuine. Not the fake one you put on for that pervert at the bar.

“I’ve never had a man break another guy’s nose for me before.”

Joel rolled his eyes. Wrapping his warm arms around your body as he pulled you in close. The first time in twenty years his bed wasn’t empty and cold. A warm body tucked right against him, perfectly as if you belonged.

“Don’t get used to it.”

2K notes · View notes

thewritergx · 3 months ago

Text

Caught in the Act: Stepdad!Joel Miller X F!Reader

Summary: Joel catches his stepdaughter with her boyfriend and decides to show her who’s really in charge.

Warnings: Unhappy marriage, mommy and daddy issues, drinking. Smut Containing: Age Gap (Reader is 18+ with undisclosed age, Joel in late 30s), Joel is your stepdad (don't read if your not into that), Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Caught in the Act (Reader with secret boyfriend), Jealousy, Cheating, Spanking, Fingering, Kissing, Oral (F!Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Pet Names: Darling, Baby girl, Little girl, Daddy.

Word Count: 4.5K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me. Text divider from @cafekitsune. Free color text generator. If you'd like more Joel Miller stories, please go check out @pearlessance.

In the beginning, Joel Miller had hoped he would make a great stepfather. He hoped he would get along with you, find ways to make you laugh, get to know all your interests, and maybe help with schoolwork. He had been a father before, after all. He was sure he could do it again, even if you were already a teenager with your own life. He could guarantee you were safe, loved, and had a warm bed to come home to.

But, it turned out, you were completely different than what he had experienced with his daughter, Sarah. She was grown now, off to a big city hours away from him. Joel always thought she was easy to raise, but after living with you for the past two years, he was one hundred percent sure being a stepdad was nearly impossible. Now, he would settle to know he was a ‘kinda okay’ stepfather.

Joel knew that you hadn’t really done anything wrong. You were a good girl, always coming home before curfew, making all A’s in your senior year, and never bringing around any shitty dudes. But fuck, if you weren’t slowly ruining his life with your little outfits and teasing glares. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, the way your eyes lingered on him, but he could feel you in the back of his mind all the time.

Maybe it would have been easier for him to manage if it happened slowly, the gutted feeling he got when looking at you. But it came on fast, like a truck traveling ninety miles per hour into a brick wall the day you moved in. He hated to admit it, but a part of him deep down in the darkest pits of his decaying soul, loved it. A kind of unimaginable pain he craved constantly, like when you get a small bruise and can’t help but press into the discolored skin. You know that icky, repulsive feeling you get when you touch wet food in the sink? That was how he felt every time he looked at you, his skin recoiling into itself as you hugged him goodbye, your arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

The fantasies were the absolute worst, haunting him like an uninvited spirit watching in a dark corner of every room. He would imagine the most ghastly, devilish images when he was alone. Ones where you would be all spread open for him, letting him devour your swollen pussy while he pumped his fingers in and out of you. Ones where you were waiting on your knees at the front door, a perfect set of lingerie displaying your tits as you sat with your mouth open, waiting for him to come home from work and fuck your little throat. Ones where you were screaming into your pillow as he stretched you open with his thick cock, pounding you into the mattress until you were begging him to stop. It was driving him insane. Insane like he couldn’t control himself. Insane like he wondered if he might have needed to get some serious professional help.

There was a time when he had truly loved his wife. At least he thought he did, hoped it. But she was always so busy, traveling out of town for some important work conference or meetings. He hated being lonely in his own home, hated that he fell asleep knowing you were right down the hall, no one stopping him from sneaking into your room and taking you like a dirty little whore. You didn't deserve it. He knew you were a good girl, an intoxicating innocent clouding his mind. It was exhilarating but left a bad, sour taste in his mouth, sort of like biting into a rotten piece of fruit. His wife was becoming more of an annoyance, her body never helping ease the pain of you. He would try, truly he would. But every time her hands landed on his skin, he thought of you, sleeping alone down the hall.

“Joel?” Tommy waved his hand in front of his face, “Joel?”

Joel shook his head, eyes darting to his brother and thoughts snapping back to reality. “Huh?” Joel pitched the bridge of his nose before running his hand through his hair. “Sorry. Uh, what were you sayin?” He sat quietly across from Tommy, his broad shoulders pressed lazily into the small booth, red vinyl sticking to his back.

“You okay? You haven't listened to a word I’ve said.” Tommy laughed, taking a swig of his beer and eating stale french fries.

“Actually, I ain't feeling very good. Think I might be sick,” Joel muttered his words, hoping he was putting on a believable show. He felt fine. He just wanted to be back home. Back with his girl. As much as he loved his brother, he was begging to be close to you, not in some shitty dive bar avoiding the flirty glare from the bartender.

“You should get home, rest.” Tommy stood, throwing down a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket.

“Yeah, it's getting late anyway”. Joel dragged his body from the booth, slamming down the rest of his drink and grabbing his keys.

It took everything in Joel’s body not to sprint to his truck, his boots stomping across the gravel parking lot. He jumped into the truck, the engine rowing to life. His jaw was clenched, music vibrating through the speakers as he gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white and tight against the worn out leather.

He stumbled into the house, shoulders dropping and his eyes falling to the cold hardwood floor as he walked inside. The house was eerily quiet, the living room dark and empty. He had expected you to be in your usual place, sitting on the couch, wearing a tiny pair of shorts and a crop top that somehow showed way too much and nothing at the same time. His hands rested at his sides, eyes darting to your bedroom with a slight frown.

You knew it was wrong, the way your panties instantly soaked in a pool of arousal anytime you were alone with Joel Miller. It was happening at an alarming rate lately, your mother always gone on work trips or fancy dinners. It was agonizing, your skin constantly on fire for a man you could never touch. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact day or even moment when you started pinning for the man. He was just always around, messy hair always falling in his eyes in the morning, eyes sparkling in the sun as he mowed the grass, and the way he rolled his sleeves up, the material hugging his toned shoulders as he washed the dishes. He was a goddamn masterpiece waiting for you to fall apart and end up in arms. It was wrong on every account. He was rough, older than you by a good fifteen years. Not to mention, he was married to your mother.

You relished in the fact you were finally home alone, the perfect opportunity to get yourself some type of release from the constant yearning. Joel didn't like leaving you alone. Your mother was already gone all the time and he wasn’t going to be another person in your life too busy to show up when you needed him. As much as you loved being around him, feeling his gaze from across the room, you needed a night to yourself. You knew you shouldn’t. You wanted to respect Joel and his house, but it wasn’t nearly enough to stop you.

You laid on your bed, a loose t-shirt hanging off your shoulders, goosebumps rising over your body. You had been seeing a guy for a few months, keeping him a tightly wrapped secret. He was sweet, tall, and smart. The boy hovered over you, his hands falling to your hips as you grind into him, lips lightly parting and panting breaths flowing from you. His fingers grazed the hem of your red panties, the material hugging your waist. He brushed his lips over ours, pulling you into a gentle kiss. Not enough to send any sparks but enough to leave you whining and body raving. His hands traveled lower, dipping just inside your panties. You gasp, bucking your hips into his hand for any type of friction. You were so close to a release, hoping it would help settle the growing need for Joel. You had to stop yourself from imagining him, stop yourself from moaning his name as the boy dipped a finger inside you.

Joel stood in the living room, debating on whether to knock on your door. Maybe you were hungry? Maybe you needed help with that new anatomy project? He lingered towards the door, hand hovering over the handle when he heard a quiet whimper. He listened for a moment longer, the sound of small moans reverberating on the other side. He should knock, he knows that. But in a second of impulse, he was swiftly throwing the door open.

“What the fuck?” Disdain dripped off his tongue, his broad shoulders standing in your doorframe as you lay on the bed, legs spread open. The boy’s hands roamed over your body, kissing your neck and palming at your panties.

“Joel, oh my god! Get out,” you yelped, quickly pushing the boy off of you. You watched as the muscles in Joel’s jaw tightened, the veins in his throat contracting as he swallowed a huff of air.

The boy stood in front of you, helpless fear written all over his face. “I’m uh...I-I’m gonna go,” he muttered, quickly throwing on a pair of Nike Sneakers. God, he looked pathetic. Weak and small next to the man you had really been longing for.

“Yeah. You do that.” Joel cut his eyes at the boy, begging him to give Joel a reason. Joel wanted nothing more than to throw that kid against the wall and fuck him up so bad the cops would have to drag him out. But, he held back, hands crossed around his chest, the muscles in his shoulders flexing against his body. The boy awkwardly slipped through Joel, his eyes on the floor and shoulder shrugging. He squeezed himself between Joel’s large frame and the doorway, quickly leaving with a slight slam of the front door.

You felt your body trembling, the edge of euphoria quickly fading and leaving you feeling empty. You felt your throat go dry, fingers shaky as you looked at Joel, your eyes darting between him, the floor, and your quivering fingers.

“Who the hell was that?” Joel stepped into the room, scanning the way your bottom lip pouted, eyes full of regret and fear. It was cute, the way you were avoiding looking at him, but he needed to see the look in your eyes when he was talking to you.

“No one,” you whispered, voice barely audible over the sound of Joel’s hitched breaths.

“No one? You let…no one touch you like…that?” Anger rose higher, Joel’s voice thick with venom and a hint of disgust.

“N-No. I-I.” You shifted in your bed, sitting on the mattress with a ‘thud’. “He’s just some guy I’ve been talking to”.

“Does this ‘guy’ have a name?” Joel stood at the foot of your bed, his feet planted in the carpet. His eyes filled with darkness.

“R-Ryan.” You spoke matter-of-fact, skin growing hot with embarrassment.

“Ryan?” Joel sucked his teeth, his tongue pressed against his lips as he repeated the boy's name. Stupid and plain, he thought. He wasn’t even hot. He looked like a fucking nerd. Were these the kind of guys you actually liked? He definitely wasn't good enough for you and Joel could guarantee whatever he was about to do with you would have been over in five minutes. You deserved so much more than that. Deserved a real man. A man who could give you everything you needed, leave your body exhausted and voice raspy from screaming. “And what were you and ‘Ryan’ doin’?”

You somehow mustered up the courage to look up at Joel, your cheeks flustered and on the verge of tears. “Nothing,” you mumbled again, eyes quickly falling down Joel’s body.

“Didn’t look like nothin’. Looked like you were about to spread those little legs for him. Were you gonna let that kid fuck you?” Joel stalked towards you, his large frame lingering over you like a lion stalked its prey.

You cringed at his words hating the way it made your body all hot. “N-No! I swear. I wasn’t. I just…” You shifted again, pulling your shirt down in hopes of hiding the wetness formed in between your thighs.

“Just what? You were just under him, lettin’ him rub your pussy and you weren’t gonna fuck ‘em?” Joel grabbed your chin, his calloused fingers pulled at the soft skin, forcing you to look up and meet his gaze as his thumb stroked your cheek softly.

“I-” You tried to speak, words harshly cut off.

“Were you gonna suck his dick?” Joel dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, pressing into the soft skin. “Think that kid could actually give you what you need?”Joel chuckled, a sinister vibration shuddering through you. “You need to learn some goddamn respect, sweetheart. Bringin’ a boy like that into my house”.

“I-I’m sorry, Joel. Please, I-I thought you would be gone longer.” Every nerve on your body is electrified with the soft touch of Joel's callous hands, a heavy contrast between his words. He was so close, the smell of whisky on his breath wafting between you.

“You’re sorry?” Joel huffed, “I don’t think you’re sorry, darlin’. Think ya’ liked it. Think ya’ wanted more, huh?”

You stared up at Joel. You hesitated but voiclessly shook your head yes. There was no point in trying to hide it, not with your flustered cheeks and glossed-over eyes.

“Think I need to teach a lesson about what happens to little girls like you.” Joel sat next to you, his chest expanding with each breath as he pulled your arms, directing your body until you were all sprawled out, ass in his lap and face in the blankets. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, bunching the material at your waist to finally reveal those tiny red panties, your cunt swollen and outlined under the lace.

“Look at these fucking panties. Got all dressed up for him, huh?” Joel’s fingers travel to the thin material between your legs, hooking at the fabric before letting it go with a loud ‘pop’. He caressed your skin, calloused hands squeezing at the fat of your thighs.

You flinched, your skin begging for more of him. Goosebumps rose across your body and your breath hitched in your throat, waiting as Joel’s hands lingered on your ass.

“Joel, What are you-,” A loud slap echoed across the room, Joel’s strong hands striking the curvy fat of your ass cheek hard. Your body rejected the sensation, causing you to stur against him, hips writhing in a stinging pain.

“Stay still,” Joel demanded, his words rushing through you like lightning strikes a metal pole. He struck you hard again, hand lingering on your skin a moment too long, caressing you before he spanked you again.

“Ow!” You immediately cried out at the unexpected impact. Your skin stung, and a red handprint started to form.

Joel ignored your plea, slapping you again. This time, harder, enough to almost make you cry.

“Joel, ow!” A tear formed in your eye and your back arched with each impact. “I’m sorry, Joel. Please, I’ll be a good girl”.

“Don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet, darlin’,” Joel hit you again, fingers traveling down to your panties for the second time.

“Look at how fucking wet you are. You're dripping all over my lap, sweetheart.” You moaned at his words, his hands palming at the sensitive skin, panties adding a rough sensation as he rubbed small circles on your clit. “This all for me or did that dumb boy do this?”

“Fuck, Joel. P-please,” You bucked your hips, ass on fire but begging for more.

“Answer me,” Joel growled, striking you again. His fingers moved just slow enough to work you up, but leave you whining for more.

“Ahh! J-just y-you. I don’t e-even like h-him,” you yelped, cold air hitting your body as Joel reached for your top, swiftly pulling it over your arms and past your head.

“Ya’ don’t even like him? Then why was he in my house? Why were you lettin’ him touch what’s mine?” His fingers returned to your cunt, settling on your soft skin and tugging on the lace. Finally, he was pulling the fabric down your legs, exposing that glistening pussy he had been craving for an eternity.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You swallowed hard, mouth going dry as you laid completely naked over him. Your ass stung and your pussy was crying.

Joel spread your swollen lips, using two fingers to expose the arousal leaking from your tight hole. “Look at that,” Joel whispered, his fingers softly rubbing the outside of your soft lips, gathering your arousal thick on his fingers. He moved slowly, expertly rubbing your clit in a figure eight motion. You shuddered, the feeling just enough to add a sense of pleasure under the pain of your abused skin. You bucked your hips back into his hand, little moans falling out of you.

His free hand traveled lower, lightly circling the soaking skin of your cunt, tight and swollen as he pressed his finger gently inside.

“Oh god,” you squealed, Joel’s finger pressing right against that sweet spot.

“So responsive. This is what ya’ like, huh?” He curled his finger up, his other hand still massaging your clit. “Like makin’ a mess on your stepdaddy's fingers?” He whispered, quickly adding a second finger to pump into you. “I know you do. You’re fuckin’ drippin’, baby girl”.

Every muscle in Joel’s body was flexing, his toned arms stiff as he hits that sweet spot over and over again. The sensation is almost too much, your stomach tightening as he stretches you out.

“Fuck, daddy. Please”, you cry, your mouth falling open as Joel ignores all your pleas for mercy. That tight feeling in your stomach grows, and shaky legs cause your hips to falter.

“I know you're close, baby girl. Cum on your daddy’s fingers. It’s okay.” Joel struggled to keep you from sliding off his fingers, your walls tightening around him as his fingers press into your velvet skin.

“Joel!” You’re practically crying, eyes gripped close as a rush of euphoria flows through you. Everything in you relaxes, that sweet sensation leaving you vibrating with pleasure.

“Good girl,” Joel mutters, eyes locked on the way your body is sucking his fingers in, your juices running down his hand. Joel hesitates for a moment. He thinks about fucking you with his fingers until you're a burning pile of ash under him. Reluctantly, he decides to show some type mercy, gently helping you lay back on the bed.

He positions you on your back, your knees bent so your feet lay flat against the blanket. Before he can think, before he can force himself to get up and walk out the door, he is sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around your thighs.

“Let me clean you up, darlin’,” Joel mutters, placing gentle kisses down your stomach.

He settles on your thighs, lightly biting at the skin and sucking harsh red marks. He spreads your legs wider, hovering his face above your core. He can guarantee your little boyfriend was not planning on doing this.

Jole’s breath lands on your pussy, hot and slow as he licks a long stripe through your folds. Fuck, that’s the taste he had been dreaming of, like heaven oozing out of you and onto his tastebuds. He uses the tip of his tongue to tease your clit, flicking it up and down against you. Your hands fall to his thick hair, tugging at the loose strands that fall down his forehead. Joel hums, sending a vibration through you as his spit mixes with your wetness.

His tongue traces every part of your core, settling back on your clit. This time harsher, like he's on a mission. His teeth graze the gentle skin, fingers digging into your thighs as you fuck his mouth. You're a mess under him, bucking your hips into his mouth as he sucks at the plump skin.

“That’s it. Just like that. Cum on your daddy’s mouth, little girl”. Joel’s words echo through you, his tongue ripping another orgasm through you like a hot blade cuts through rubber. It's gentler but just powerful, leaving your mind foggy and breathless.

“Such a good girl,” Joel growls, quickly forcing himself to stand. Finally, he gets a real look at your body. Your hair is already messy, red strands falling down your shoulders. Your nipples are swollen, the dark pink buds standing on edge. Fuck, you were breathtaking.

Joel knew this was the moment that he truly couldn’t come back from. Maybe there was nothing wrong with just helping his girl get off. It was safer with him, he thought. But actually, fucking you? It would be too much. He should leave. He taught you a lesson. Taught you who you really belong to, right? He thought it would be easier. Thought he could stop whenever he was getting too close to crossing that line of no return, but his feet were planted in the ground and his cock was throbbing against the zipper of his jeans.

Your eyes pleaded up at him, pupils dilated as you watched in silence. You didn't look scared and he found no hint of regret in your eyes. You looked happy even, a slight smile on your face.

“Think you can take your daddy’s dick?” He stood above you, watching your pussy dripping with his saliva.

You nodded your head, arms grazing the soft skin of your stomach. He shouldn’t fold this easily. He should’ve made you say it, how much you wanted him. But that little nod was all he needed to kick off his boots and pull the zipper of his blue jeans down.

“Just, fuck…Your mom can never know”. Joel pulled at his shirt, swiftly throwing it up over his head. His broad shoulders were finally on display, the muscles in his arms all toned. You had never seen him like this, his chest sprinkled with greying hair. He was like a Roman painting, his stomach firm but with a little bit of extra fat to grab onto. A true dad bod, you thought.

“I know. J-Just want you. All of you,” you muttered, sitting up on your forearms as you watched him pull his jeans down his legs, leaving him in a pair of dark briefs. You could tell from here just how hard his cock was, the fabric strained and tight against him.

“I know, baby girl. Think I don’t see it? The way you're always watchin’ me? Or the way you grab my arms when ya’ laugh? Fuckin’ drives me crazy, ya know.” Joel stepped closer, his heart pounding in his chest. God, he really was about to fuck the little girl he was supposed to be helping raise. I mean, it’s not like you shared blood or anything. He wasn’t actually your dad. He was just a guy…married to your mom.

“Just let me know…if gets to be too much,” Joel groaned, closing his eyes as he swallowed. He cursed himself for this, pulling his boxers off his hips. As much as he hated it, his cock sprang free, dripping with precum as he dragged his body to hover over you. It was a sweet relief, the air hitting him as he pumped his hand up and down his dick.

Joel spread your legs wider, his hips falling over yours as pulled you into a hungry kiss. His lips meet yours with a subtle taste of whiskey and you. His tongue slowly licks at your lips, his hands gripping your hips as he lines himself up to your entrance. You open your mouth a bit, letting him trace his tongue against yours, exploring every crevice of your mouth. The tip of his cock brushes against your clit, his large member teasing you and gathering your wetness.

“Please,” you whine. Your arms fall down Joel’s shoulders, meeting his eyes as he gently presses his tip past your folds.

“Fuck, baby. So fuckin’ tight.” Joel growled, pushing himself inside you with a sweet burning stretch.

“Oh, Joel!” You moan, your throat tightening around your words as he sinks deeper inside you. You're taking half his cock now, so much bigger than the boy you had been seeing.

“I got you, baby. Doing so good.” Joel’s head fell into the crease of your neck, placing hot kisses as he hit the back of your pussy. He stayed like this for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling of him before he pulled back. “That’s a good girl. Takin’ her daddy so well.” Joel dragged himself out, leaving the tip inside before falling completely back into you, brushing against your g-spot like a pro.

“Feel so good,” you whine, your nails dragging down his back as he picks up speed.

“God, baby girl. Fuckin’ doing so good.” He tries to hold back, hips growing just slightly rough as he fucks deep into you.

Your body is trembling again, your heart sinking with every thrust and a single tear runs down your cheek. He was so big, hitting your cervix over and over again.

That feeling was quick to creep back, your chest tightening as he pounded into you, cock pumping in and out faster and rougher.

“Daddy, please,” You cried, your body fighting off the euphoria as Joel pressed his weight against you.

“It’s okay. Cum on Daddy’s big dick,” Joel growled, no longer stopping himself from making a complete mess of you. He watched your eyes flutter close, your back arching off the bed and your hands digging into the blankets. He snapped his hips, a loud echo ringing out across the room and you clenched around him, thick white cream coating the base of his cock.

Just like that, you were crying out his name and shaking uncontrollably. Your orgasm ripped through you, hard and undeniable.

“Daddy! Fuck yes!” You screamed, your hips bucking into him as you bit into his shoulder.

“Fuck, that’s it.” Joel ground against you, hips never faulting as you withered under him. “Like Daddy’s cock, huh?” He growled, his own high building as he watched you shudder at his touch.

“I love it, daddy. Love your dick so much,” You whined, forcing your walls to open up for him.

“Yeah? Wish I was fucking you a long time ago baby. Wanted to since I met ya’.” Joel’s rhythm grew messy, hips slapping into you at an unprecedented pace. “Gonna let your daddy cum inside your little pussy?”

“Yes, please Daddy. Want your cum,” You stuttered, your voice all raspy and barely audible.

Fuck. Joel couldn't stop himself and he was thrusting as deep as he could, sinking all the way inside you until his balls landed on your clit. You were so beautiful, so tight around him that his mind was all clouded and drunk.

“Goddamn. That’s my good girl. Lettin’ her daddy get her pregnant. Want to carry my baby huh? Get all swollen while your mom’s out of town. Bet she wouldn’t even notice.” Before he could stop himself, he was painting your walls white, fucking every drop of his cum deep inside you with a painful need.

“Yes, Daddy!” You whined, watching as Joel slowly pulled out, his cum dripping down your leg. He dragged himself off of you, hitting the mattress with deep panting breaths.

“Love ya’, sweetheart. Always have.” Joel muttered, his words spread out and uneven as he pulled your back against his chest. His mind was racing, the reality of what he had just done weighing on him like a ton of bricks.

He should have knocked.

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talaok · 4 months ago

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Here comes the sun

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: Joel's old ass falls in love with you

warnings: none, it's just fluff and cliché writing

a/n: this month's four days of happiness are over, we're back to being depressed babygirls. This is just a silly lil thing i felt like writing cause my love life is nonexistent so i might as well imagine a man falling in love with me in my head.

He never thought it would happen again.

Not at his age, not with his past, not with the decisions he'd taken, things he'd had to do...

No, not to him.

And then... you came along.

With your kind eyes, your sweet words, your devilish smiles- and all of a sudden, everything he'd believed for so long, every single certainty he'd had about himself had crumbled to the ground.

Like a sand castle washed away by the sea, he'd found himself bare of all protections, of all the walls he'd built over the years,

he found himself to be just him,

not the asshole he'd become, not the monster he was sure to be, not the cruel things he'd done, he was just Joel, and you... for some reason, you hadn't cowered or run away at the sight, no, you didn't hate it, you liked it- him, somehow you liked him.

He never gave himself a chance to wonder why, he couldn't, he would have driven himself mad if he'd tried to find even just one reason.

Truly unlike his fashion, he had decided not to think about it too much, to enjoy it, whatever you two had, for as long as it lasted, because from the very first moment he laid eyes on you, he knew the sand had started slowly dripping down the hourglass, and his time would inevitably soon be over.

But before he could realize it, it had been over a month, and something even more extraordinary had happened,

something had changed, he had changed, and he'd stopped worrying- worrying about how long it would take for you to realize you deserved better, how long he could keep this up, how long before he was alone, once again,

because somewhere along the line, his logical thinking had made space for the scariest thing he'd ever experienced in his life,

the same one he was sure never to feel again,

love.

he was in love.

At his old age, butterflies fluttered in his belly and his poor heart skipped beats whenever he saw you.

And because he was so old, because he had stopped thinking long ago, he'd decided he was gonna tell you, right now, on that gloomy, winter day.

There was no point in waiting for a better occasion, a better day, better weather, not when every fiber of his being was jumping from excitement,

And besides, he smiled as the curtains of his window wavered just as you approached his house,

your gaze locking with one another's as that fucking smile pulled at your lips,

there was no need for a sunny day, he thought, not when the sun was coming to knock at his door this very moment.

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coquettepascal · 8 months ago

Text

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

-> part. ii here!

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying.

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes.

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones.

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does.

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you.

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to.

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job.

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together.

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point.

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there.

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats.

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute?

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel.

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable.

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing.

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird.

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone.

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars.

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice.

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath.

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes.

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer.

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him.

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself.

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years.

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing.

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly.

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this.

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks.

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock.

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him.

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?”

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either.

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers.

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering.

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay.

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you.

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough.

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.”

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out.

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #hbo!joel #neighbor!joel #tlou fanfiction #dilf!joel #reader insert #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller smut

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mssalo · 6 months ago

Text

worship Part: 2

A week ago, Joel finally gave you everything you’d been missing—passion, desire, and the attention of a man who truly craved you. Now, you’re ready to leave your husband behind, but before you can make your move, a garden party at your home pushes everything to the brink.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cheating, explicit sexual content, possessive Joel, fingering under table while people are there, hitting your husband (deserved), oral (m receiving) while driving, divorce, angst, rough sex (P in V), dirty talk, body worship, breeding kink, emotional tension, secret affair, neglectful husband, explosive confrontation, soft moments with sarah and Joel, 11k words.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

It had been a long, exhausting week since that night with Joel—since everything between you shifted. His touch, his voice, the way he had made you feel seen and wanted, lingered in your mind every waking moment. You hadn’t seen him since, though you’d spoken in hushed tones on the phone, voices low as you discussed the delicate plan of how to leave your husband. It had to be done carefully. One wrong move could make everything fall apart.

Today, though, you were still stuck playing the perfect wife. Your husband had thrown together a garden party for his work colleagues, eager to show off the life he liked to pretend was flawless.

But, of course, he hadn’t lifted a finger. The pressure of preparing the garden, arranging the food, and making everything look effortless fell entirely on you. The weight of it clung to your shoulders like a heavy coat, but you did it anyway. Even now, you couldn’t shake the need to make everything look perfect, even if he didn’t care.

As the guests arrived, you moved between them with a forced smile, offering drinks and making small talk, though your mind was somewhere else—waiting.

Joel was coming.

And the thought of seeing him again, of having him close, made your pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with the party.

The garden was bathed in golden light as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the lawn. You were pouring a glass of wine when you saw him slip in quietly, unnoticed by most.

But not by you.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your eyes found him, his presence steady, grounding, but also full of that same heat that had lingered between you since that night. And maybe longer.

Joel moved easily through the crowd, shaking hands, nodding politely, but it was obvious—he wasn’t here for all that. His eyes kept finding yours, flicking toward you even as he spoke with others, his gaze lingering a little too long, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile every time you caught him staring.

You tried to focus on your tasks—pouring drinks, offering food—but every time you turned, Joel was closer, his presence weaving around you like an invisible thread pulling you toward him.

You could feel his gaze on you even when you weren’t looking, the heat of it warming your skin. The tension between you was palpable, and you could barely breathe as it thickened the air.

Finally, as you set down a tray of hors d’oeuvres, Joel was there, standing beside you, his presence sending a wave of warmth through your body. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was close—his scent, that familiar, earthy mix of soap and pine, filled the space between you.

“Hello, darlin’,” Joel’s voice was low, just for you, the deep timbre of his Texas accent sending a ripple of awareness through you. He stepped closer, his breath brushing your ear as he leaned in slightly. “Need any help with all this?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you glanced around, trying to make sure no one had noticed how close he was standing, the intimate way he was speaking to you. “You don’t have to do that,” you said, your voice barely steady. “You’re a guest.”

Joel’s lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes dark with something unspoken. “I’m not here for the party, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with meaning. “I’m here for you.”

His words sent a rush of heat through you, making your knees feel weak. You glanced around again, nerves buzzing under your skin, but no one seemed to be paying attention. His fingers brushed lightly against your arm as he reached for the tray you were holding, the touch sparking a fire beneath your skin.

“Let me help,” Joel said softly, his hand lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. His touch was firm, comforting, but there was something beneath it—a quiet intensity, a need that neither of you could ignore.

You watched, breathless, as Joel moved through the party, gathering glasses and plates, his strong hands working with quiet efficiency.

He moved like he belonged there by your side, taking over tasks you’d been doing alone for far too long.

The sight of him—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with that quiet confidence—made your pulse race. There was something undeniably sexy about the way he did it, the way he moved with purpose, his gaze flicking back to you every so often, checking in silently.

At one point, as you both cleared another table, his hand grazed yours again—this time, he didn’t pull away. He let his fingers linger, his touch light but full of meaning. He leaned in slightly, his voice a low whisper meant only for you. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his lips just inches from your ear.

The compliment sent a shiver down your spine, your skin tingling under his gaze. You glanced around quickly, making sure no one had heard, but the words lingered, hanging in the air between you. His eyes flickered with something deeper, something that made your breath catch in your throat.

He wasn’t just talking about how you looked—he was talking about you. The way you held everything together, the way you moved with quiet strength, even when you were on the verge of crumbling.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyes met his. The connection between you was electric, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away—there was no party, no guests, no husband.

Just you and Joel, standing there in the golden light of the garden.

Before you could say anything else, your husband’s loud voice cut through the moment, pulling you back into reality.

“Hey! More drinks over here!”

You flinched at the sound, the familiar sting of frustration building inside you as your husband continued barking orders like you were nothing more than a servant. You opened your mouth to respond, but Joel was already moving.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with a protective edge. He shot you a quick glance, his eyes dark with something that made your heart pound—a promise that he wasn’t going to let your husband keep treating you like this. Not anymore.

You watched as Joel moved across the garden, grabbing a bottle and refilling your husband’s glass without a word. Your husband barely even acknowledged him, too absorbed in his own conversation to notice anything, but Joel didn’t seem to care. When he returned, his gaze softened again, his eyes locking with yours as he stepped closer.

And the way Joel looked at you… it wasn’t just admiration. It was desire—deep, simmering beneath the surface, barely held in check.

Every glance felt like a secret, a silent confession of the things he couldn’t say aloud. Every time his hand brushed yours, it wasn’t accidental. Each fleeting touch sent warmth spiraling through you, igniting something raw and undeniable.

When he returned to your side, his hand grazed the small of your back, lingering longer than necessary, the pressure just enough to remind you that he was there, close. The touch was so simple, but it sent a pulse of heat through your body, making your breath catch in your throat.

“You shouldn’t have to do this alone,” he murmured, his voice low, the rich warmth of his breath skimming across your neck. “You’re always the one carrying everything.”

The words weren’t just kind. They were a gentle rebuke to all the years you’d spent doing just that—being the one who did it all, with no one ever truly seeing the weight of it.

You glanced up at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his eyes, the concern etched in his features.

“Joel…,” you whispered, the words barely audible, your voice unsteady.

The lump in your throat grew as you looked down, overwhelmed by the weight of everything unsaid between you.

But Joel wasn’t finished. He moved even closer, his hand lifting to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb sweeping tenderly over your skin, grounding you.

“You do all this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “workin’ yourself to the bone and yet you’re still the most breathtakin‘ woman in this entire place.”

His words hit you hard, your breath faltering as your heart raced, threatening to burst from the emotion building inside. His touch was firm, steady, but underneath it, you could feel the undercurrent of something deeper��something that made your pulse quicken, that made you lean into him just a little more.

You could feel the tension building between you, the air thick with all the unspoken feelings that had been growing between you for months.

You couldn’t do this out here—not with people around. You needed to be alone with him, somewhere you could finally let go of everything you’d been holding back.

“Come with me,” you whispered, barely audible over the sound of the party.

Joel’s eyes darkened with understanding, and he nodded subtly. He followed you quietly as you slipped through the garden, making your way toward the house.

You led him into the kitchen, the noise of the party fading behind you as you closed the door, shutting out the rest of the world.

The kitchen was dimly lit, with the sound of the party outside fading into nothingness as you led Joel inside, closing the door behind you. The soft glow of the light cast shadows across his face, making his already dark eyes seem even deeper, more intense. Your heart pounded in your chest, the air thick with everything left unsaid.

When you turned to face him, Joel was already stepping closer, his gaze locked on yours. His hands reached out, pulling you toward him with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

His touch was firm, possessive, as if he had been waiting too long to feel you again, and now that you were alone, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, feeling the heat of his body so close to yours.

He didn’t respond at first—he didn’t need to. His eyes, full of longing and unspoken need, told you everything. He cupped your face with both hands, his touch gentle but with a restrained intensity, like he was holding back the full force of what he wanted to do.

His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, his breath warm against your lips.

“I can’t get you outta my head,” he finally murmured, his voice rough, low, filled with raw need. His hands moved down, wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer. “Every time I close my eyes, it’s you. The way you feel… the way you sound when I’m inside you. It’s all I think about, baby.”

His words sent a rush of heat through your body, your breath catching in your throat as the memory of last week flooded back.

The way he had touched you, the way he had made you feel, was seared into your mind too. You’d been replaying it over and over, the ache for him growing stronger with every day that passed.

“I’ve been missin’ you so much, pretty girl’,” Joel whispered, his lips grazing your jawline as his hands slid lower, gripping your hips.

“Every damn night… fisting my cock thinkin’ bout you. Thinkin’ about how perfect you feel wrapped around me. How good you taste.”

You gasped softly at his confession, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer. His words sent a shiver through you, the raw honesty in them making your pulse race.

You could feel his breath hot against your neck, the roughness of his beard brushing against your skin as he kissed you softly, each touch of his lips making your body tremble.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” Joel growled against your neck, his voice thick with desire as his hands roamed over your body, sliding up your sides, feeling every curve as if he were memorizing you all over again. “You don’t know what you do to me, baby. I’ve been countin’ the days ‘til I could have you like this again.”

His mouth claimed yours in a deep, hungry kiss, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you firmly against him.

The kiss was filled with the desperation of everything he had been holding back—the weeks of restraint, the nights spent thinking of you, wanting you, needing you.

You kissed him back just as eagerly, your body pressing into his as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him.

Before you could kiss him deeper or let your hands explore more of him, your husband’s voice cut through the kitchen, calling everyone outside for dinner.

The spell was broken, and with a shared glance, you both knew you had to split, to act like nothing had happened. You quickly adjusted yourselves, smoothing over the moment to avoid suspicion.

You followed the crowd out to the garden, still flustered from what had just unfolded with Joel.

Joel walked beside you, his hand brushing against yours as you sat down. You were still reeling from the intensity of what had happened, and you couldn’t shake the way his rough voice had whispered filth into your ear just moments ago. Your body was still buzzing with unspent desire, even as the cool evening breeze washed over you.

You sat beside Joel, your heart racing, trying to calm the thrum of desire that had been simmering between you both since you entered the garden.

The tension was almost unbearable, his presence electric, every glance in his direction making your body prickle with awareness. It was impossible to focus on anything else—not with Joel so close, not with the hunger that had been left hanging between you both.

Just as you thought you might regain control, Joel’s hand found your thigh under the table, his touch possessive, like he was claiming you all over again. The warmth of his hand against your bare skin sent a jolt of electricity straight through you, and your heart raced as he slowly dragged his fingers higher, inching closer to where you were already soaked and aching for him.

He acted like he had every right to touch you—like your body was his to explore and own, and the intensity of it made your pulse pound in your ears. His fingers grazed your inner thigh, teasing, deliberate, and you fought to keep a straight face, knowing everyone else at the table remained oblivious to what was happening beneath the tablecloth.

Your husband, as usual, was too busy talking loudly, bragging about work and drinking far too much to even notice. But you noticed. Every move Joel made had your body clenching, anticipation building as his fingers slid higher.

With a low, growling whisper, Joel leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You think about me all week, huh? Think about my cock stretching out that tight little pussy?” His words were so filthy, they sent heat flooding between your legs, your panties already damp from the thought alone.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as Joel’s fingers inched closer, slipping under the fabric of your dress like it was the most natural thing in the world. His touch was agonizingly slow, his fingertips barely brushing your soaked panties.

“I can feel how fuckin’ wet you are,” Joel whispered, his voice dark and possessive. “This pussy’s beggin’ for me. I could take you right here, couldn’t I? Fill you up right under his fuckin’ nose, and he wouldn’t even notice.”

Your thighs clenched instinctively, trying to stop the flood of arousal that was pooling in your core, but Joel wasn’t having it. His hand gripped your thigh tightly, prying your legs apart, his fingers teasing along the edge of your panties. “Don’t you dare try to hide from me,” he growled. “You know this pussy’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching as his fingers finally slipped under the thin fabric of your panties, dragging over your slick folds with a slow, deliberate motion. Your body trembled as he teased you, parting your lips with his fingers, slicking them through your wetness.

His thumb found your clit, pressing down just enough to make your legs shake, his fingers spreading you open and slipping inside with agonizing slowness. You bit down hard on your lip to stifle a moan, your body begging for more even as you tried to stay quiet.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Joel growled, his voice thick with lust. “So fuckin’ needy for me. Bet you haven’t felt this good in years, have you?”

You could barely breathe, your body trembling as his fingers pumped in and out of you, curling just enough to brush against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb circled your clit, slow and teasing, keeping you on the edge but never letting you tip over.

“Look at you,” Joel muttered, his voice low and dark as his fingers fucked you under the table. “So fuckin’ desperate for me. This pussy’s mine. You’re mine. You belong to me now.”

The sound of his voice, so full of ownership and desire, sent another wave of heat rushing through you. You clenched around his fingers, your walls tightening as he worked you over, pumping harder, faster, the wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you barely hidden by the noise of the party.

Your husband’s voice droned on, oblivious to what was happening right in front of him, while Joel’s fingers fucked you mercilessly under the table. The sheer filth of it, the forbidden thrill of being taken like this in such a public space, made your pulse race.

“You love this, don’t you?” Joel growled, his breath hot against your ear. “Love how I finger fuck this needy little cunt. You’re gonna cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.”

His words sent you over the edge, the pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave. You bit down hard on your lip, your body trembling, legs shaking as you came, your pussy clenching around his fingers as the orgasm hit you.

Joel didn’t stop, his fingers thrusting deeper, harder, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were a quivering mess, barely able to stay upright in your seat. His thumb pressed down hard on your clit, sending aftershocks of pleasure pulsing through you.

As you tried to catch your breath, Joel slowly pulled his fingers from your soaked heat, bringing them to his lips. He groaned, a low, filthy sound that made your whole body tingle.

“Damn,” he said loudly, smirking as he sucked his fingers clean. “That cake is good.”

Your heart nearly stopped as he spoke, your eyes widening in shock, but the rest of the table didn’t seem to notice the double meaning behind his words. They all laughed, assuming he was talking about the dessert in front of him, while you sat there, still trembling, trying to recover from the intensity of what just happened.

Joel’s eyes flickered to you, dark with satisfaction, and when he leaned back in his seat, his hand settled possessively on your thigh once again. “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice rough with approval. “You did so fuckin’ good. But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

And the look in his eyes promised that the night was just beginning.

· · ────

As the party finally wound down, the last guests said their goodbyes, spilling out into the cool evening. You stood by the door, forcing a tight smile, thanking them for coming while your mind buzzed with unspoken tension. Every fleeting glance toward Joel made your pulse quicken, a stark contrast to the exhaustion and bitterness that had built up throughout the night.

The garden was littered with empty glasses, plates, and discarded bits of the party, the chaos that your husband had insisted on throwing but, unsurprisingly, had done nothing to manage.

You sighed deeply, already dreading the cleanup. Your husband, now a few drinks past his limit, stumbled through the garden, slurring words to whoever was still unfortunate enough to be in earshot. He hadn’t lifted a finger all night, as usual, letting you handle everything while he made sure to drink more than anyone else.

Joel, in contrast, moved through the garden like a quiet force. Collecting glasses, stacking plates, helping with the cleanup in a way that felt so natural. His movements were purposeful, calm, and magnetic, making even the simple act of clearing a table seem like an extension of his strength. You couldn’t help but watch him, your body tingling at the sight of his rolled-up sleeves, those strong forearms flexing as he moved.

Every quiet glance he sent your way only deepened the longing inside you, a silent acknowledgment that he saw you—really saw you.

At one point, Joel leaned in close to hand you a tray, the scent of him—earthy and masculine—surrounding you as he whispered, “You’re not alone anymore, darlin’.” His voice was low, gravelly, a promise woven through every word.

A shiver ran down your spine, the quiet intensity of his words wrapping around your heart like a protective shield.

But as Joel disappeared inside to use the bathroom, you felt the air shift. The moment he was gone, your husband’s drunken presence loomed closer.

He had been stumbling around for the past hour, barking slurred orders at no one in particular, too drunk to even realize what an embarrassing display he was putting on. He was more than drunk—he was a ticking time bomb.

You stacked the last few plates when you felt it: the heavy, uneven footsteps approaching from behind. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as his presence pressed down on you.

“What the hell are you doing?” your husband’s voice slurred, thick with irritation and resentment. “Why is it taking you so goddamn long to clean up? Can’t even do something simple.”

You ignored him, focusing on the task in front of you, but it only made his frustration mount. His voice turned sharper, dripping with condescension. “Oh, I see. Just gonna ignore me, huh? Like you always do. After everything I’ve done for you, and you can’t even handle one fuckin’ party.”

He staggered closer, his breath sour with the stench of alcohol, the air between you heavy and tense. “You ungrateful bitch,” he spat, his voice louder now, full of venom. “You think you’re too good for me? Is that it? You can’t even look at me now?”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as the rage in his voice twisted tighter, crueler. His words felt like a slap, a reminder of how he had always managed to make you feel small, worthless. You kept your eyes down, trying to focus on anything but the suffocating tension, trying to keep your composure. But the anger in him was rising, boiling over.

“I said look at me when I’m talking to you!” he barked, his voice turning ugly as he stepped even closer, his body looming over yours. His face was flushed red, eyes wild with drunken rage. “Can’t even manage that, can you? Useless… that’s what you are. Always have been. Can’t do one fucking thing right.”

The words sliced through the air, sharp and venomous, and before you could react, he raised his hand slightly, a dangerous glint in his eyes that made your stomach drop. The fury in his expression was like nothing you’d seen before, and for a moment, the fear that he might actually hit you became very real.

Before he could do anything, a shadow loomed behind him, and you felt the shift in the air.

“Back the fuck off,” Joel’s voice was a low, dangerous growl, sharp and filled with restrained rage that sent a shiver down your spine.

His words were laced with a fury so thick it felt palpable, filling the space between the three of you. He stepped up behind your husband, towering over him with an intensity that made it clear—Joel wasn’t here to talk.

He was here to protect, to claim, and he would destroy anyone who stood in the way.

Your husband turned, stumbling slightly, his drunken swagger faltering as he tried to stand his ground. But there was no mistaking the fear that flickered in his eyes when he looked up at Joel—who, in contrast, was a force of nature.

His fists were clenched, his body coiled with enough tension that you knew it would only take one wrong move for him to snap.

“This isn’t your business,” your husband slurred, his voice wavering as he tried to sound tough, but the bravado was weak, and it was clear he knew it. He might have tried to act like he had control, but one look at Joel’s seething expression, and that confidence faltered.

Joel’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as his nostrils flared. His eyes, dark and burning with fury, didn’t leave your husband’s face for a second.

“It became my business the second you thought you could put your hands on her,” he growled, stepping even closer until the two were nearly nose to nose. His voice, thick with raw protectiveness, made your heart race. “If you ever touch her again, I swear to God, I’ll fuckin’ ruin you.”

Your husband let out a bitter laugh, but it was shaky, his attempt to save face pathetic in the face of Joel’s quiet, simmering rage.

He staggered back a step, shaking his head before sneering at you both. “Oh, I see what’s goin’ on here,” he spat, his voice laced with venom.

“You’ve been fucking her, haven’t you? That’s what this is about?” His eyes darted between you and Joel, a cruel smile tugging at his lips.

“Tell me, Joel, did you feel how loose and boring she is? I bet she was a real disappointment, huh?”

Before you could even process his disgusting words, Joel’s fist connected with your husband’s face with a sickening crack.

The impact was swift and brutal, and your husband stumbled back, clutching his nose as blood dripped down his chin. Joel stood there, fists still clenched, chest heaving with anger, the air around him charged with a lethal energy.

“Stop!” you yelled, stepping forward, your voice sharp, cutting through the thick tension.

Joel froze, his eyes flicking to you, still blazing with fury but full of concern for you.

Silence fell over the garden, the only sound the shallow, ragged breaths of your husband as he staggered, dazed from the hit.

You walked slowly toward your husband, his eyes filled with confusion as he held his bloodied nose, clearly assuming you were going to stop Joel, to protect him.

But when you reached him, your face set in stone, you didn’t hesitate.

With all the pent-up anger and frustration that had been festering inside you for so long, you pulled back your fist and punched him—hard.

The sound of your fist connecting with his face echoed through the quiet garden, and your husband reeled, stumbling backward as shock registered in his eyes.

He stared at you, dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

His hand shot up to his cheek, his mouth hanging open as he tried to process the fact that you—the woman he had treated like a doormat for so long—had just hit him.

“You… you hit me,” he stammered, his voice weak, his face twisted in disbelief.

“That’s right,” you spat, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and adrenaline. “I did. And you’re damn lucky that’s all I did after everything you’ve put me through.”

Your husband blinked, still stunned, and you took a deep breath, the years of silence finally cracking open inside you like a dam breaking.

The words poured out before you could stop them, raw and trembling.

“You have no idea how lonely I’ve been,” you whispered, your voice shaking as the weight of it all hit you.

“You don’t know what it’s like to feel invisible. To wake up every morning next to someone who doesn’t even see you. I used to beg for you to notice me—just a smile, a touch, anything to make me feel like I wasn’t completely alone. But you never did. Never once.”

Your voice broke, and you fought to keep the tears from spilling over, but the dam was already gone, and the hurt kept pouring out. “I gave you everything. Every part of me. And you just… took. You took until there was nothing left of me. Do you know what that’s like? To feel so empty that you don’t even recognize yourself anymore? To look in the mirror and not know who you are because all you’ve been doing for years is trying to keep someone else’s life together?”

You took a step closer, and your husband stumbled back slightly, the confusion and shock still etched on his face, but you didn’t stop. The words kept coming, like a wound that had been festering for years finally being ripped open.

“I used to think it was my fault. That if I could just be better, or prettier, or more fun, you might actually love me again. But I realize now… you never loved me. Not the real me. You loved the idea of me, the version that made your life easier. The one who cleaned up your messes, who stayed quiet while you drank yourself into oblivion, who pretended not to see when you looked at other women, when you lied to my face.”

Your voice cracked, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. “Do you know what it’s like to go to bed every night wondering if this is it? If this is all your life is ever going to be? Wondering why the person who’s supposed to love you the most can’t even bring himself to ask if you’re okay? I’ve spent years screaming inside, trying to get you to see me, but you never did.”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and unchecked, but you didn’t wipe them away. The pain was too raw, too suffocating to hold back any longer. Your voice trembled, your words thick with heartbreak as you finally let the truth spill out. “I was empty. So damn empty, and you never noticed. Not once.”

The ache in your chest deepened as the words left your lips. “You were so wrapped up in your own world, your own needs, that you never saw me breaking apart. I would lie next to you in bed, feeling more alone than I ever did when I was by myself.”

You swallowed hard, the tears making your voice hoarse but stronger. “I used to be alive. I used to have dreams. And then… you. You came in and made me believe that love meant sacrificing everything. That love meant shrinking myself, staying small so you could feel big.”

The tears continued to fall, but there was no stopping now. “I gave you everything, and you gave me nothing but empty promises and cold shoulders. I waited for you to see me, to really see me, but you never did. You didn’t even try. You never looked past what you wanted and into what I needed. I stayed up nights waiting for you to come home, hoping this time you’d talk to me like a partner, like someone who mattered. But all I ever got was silence. Silence and empty space where love was supposed to be.”

Your husband’s face went pale, the blood still dripping from his nose, but you didn’t care. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, your voice sharp, cutting through his pathetic attempts to muster an excuse.

“And the worst part?” you continued, your voice cracking with the weight of your sorrow. “The worst part is how long I convinced myself this was normal. That this was what love looked like. I thought that if I worked harder, if I could just be more patient, more understanding, that maybe you’d love me again. Maybe you’d remember who I was. But no. You just kept taking and I kept fading away until there was nothing left of me but a ghost in this house.”

You took a step closer, staring him dead in the eyes, the pain burning in your chest. “You made me feel like I wasn’t worth fighting for. Like I wasn’t worth anything. I was so fucking lonely, screaming inside for someone to save me, but you never came. You never gave a damn.”

His mouth opened again, but you weren’t finished. “No. You don’t get to speak. You don’t get to tell me it wasn’t that bad, or that I’m overreacting. Because you weren’t there. You never were. I’ve been doing this alone for so long, I forgot what it felt like to have someone who actually gives a shit. And now… now I’m done pretending.”

You wiped your eyes, your voice steadying as you spoke the final words that had been weighing on you for years. “I’m done living this half-life. I’m done waiting for something that will never come. You don’t own me. You never did. I’m not your shadow, I’m not your convenience, and I’m not your victim anymore. I deserve more. I deserve love. And you… you’ll never be capable of giving that.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Your husband stood there, shell-shocked, his face twisted in disbelief, his hand still clutching his bloodied nose. He had no words, no defense for what you had just said.

For the first time, he looked small, like the empty, hollow man he had always been.

You took one last deep breath, your heart racing with both fear and relief. “I’m leaving, and there’s nothing you can say to stop me. I’m reclaiming my life, and I’m not looking back.”

As you reached the end of your words, something raw and unfiltered clawed its way to the surface. The years of frustration, of being neglected not only emotionally but physically, boiled over. You stopped in your tracks, your body trembling with the last surge of anger that had been buried for too long.

You turned back, eyes blazing, your voice rising with a mix of fury and bitterness as you screamed, “And you never once made me cum! It’s hard to be fun when you’ve been looking for my clit for four fucking years!”

The words hit him like a slap, and for the first time, you saw him truly speechless—stunned, humiliated. His face paled, his mouth hanging open, but he had nothing. No snarky comeback, no excuse. Just the weight of your truth hanging in the air, cutting through the night like a knife.

Without waiting for his response, you turned and walked toward Joel, who had been standing nearby, his face dark with anger but softening as you approached. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his strong, steady embrace, his hand resting firmly against your back, grounding you in the reality that you were no longer trapped.

“You ready?” Joel asked, his voice a low rumble filled with both protectiveness and admiration.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper, but filled with a sense of freedom you hadn’t felt in years. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

You walked away with Joel, leaving behind the remnants of your broken past. With each step, the weight lifted from your shoulders, lighter and lighter, until you could breathe again.

The pain was still there, the scars from years of neglect and loneliness etched into your heart, but now—finally—you were free. Free to be seen. Free to be loved. Free to be whole again. And as Joel’s arm wrapped around you protectively, you knew you were walking toward something new, something real.

And you weren’t walking alone.

· · ────

You and Joel walked toward his truck, the night air felt cooler, like a breath of relief after the storm. The intensity of everything that had just happened lingered in the air between you, heavy and electric.

Joel hadn’t said much, but his presence was solid, grounding you as your emotions swirled inside—rage, heartbreak, and an overwhelming sense of freedom.

When you reached his truck, the reality of the moment hit you all at once. You were leaving it all behind—the years of loneliness, the pain, the person who never saw you.

And here was Joel, the man who had seen you, stood up for you, fought for you. He had protected your honor without hesitation, and now, as he opened the door to his truck for you, the weight of his quiet strength was impossible to ignore.

The emotions welled up inside you—gratitude, relief, desire. You turned to him, your heart pounding, and before you could think, you stepped toward him, your hands reaching up to pull him closer. Joel’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t hesitate. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his touch gentle but firm, and in that moment, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

You kissed him. Deeply. Fiercely.

It wasn’t a soft kiss; it was full of everything you had been holding inside for so long. The passion, the desperation, the need to feel alive, to feel wanted. Your lips pressed against his, and he responded instantly, his other hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. The kiss was a collision of all the emotions you both carried—his protectiveness, your desire, the mutual recognition that this was right.

Joel kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment forever, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your heart race. You could feel the tension of the night melt away, replaced by the heat building between you, his breath mingling with yours as he deepened the kiss, his grip tightening slightly around your waist.

The world around you faded, the only thing that mattered was the feel of his lips, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. Your hands moved up into his hair, pulling him even closer, not wanting the moment to end. It was more than just a kiss—it was an affirmation, a promise that you weren’t alone anymore.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead rested against his, both of you still holding each other tightly. Joel’s eyes were dark, filled with a mixture of desire and something deeper—something that made your heart swell.

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Always.”

· · ────

As Joel drove down the dark, empty road, the tension between you was thick and electric. You couldn’t stop thinking about him—how fiercely he had defended you, how protective he had been. Every inch of him radiated strength, and the need inside you was unbearable. You needed to feel him, taste him, let him fill the aching void that had been growing all night.

Without a second thought, you leaned over, your lips pressing against the side of his neck. You could feel his pulse quicken under your touch, his skin warm and rough with stubble. “Baby,” Joel growled, his voice low and strained as he kept his eyes on the road. “Slow down, you’ve been through so much tonight.”

But you couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t resist the heat building between you. “I don’t care,” you whispered, your breath hot against his neck as your hands moved down, trailing over his chest and then lower to his lap. “I need you, Joel. Please, let me take care of you.” Your voice was full of need, thick with desperation as your lips trailed down to his collarbone.

Joel groaned softly as you kissed down his neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the column of his throat. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his body tense under your touch as your lips continued to explore every inch of skin you could reach.

“Fuck, I can’t wait anymore,” you whimpered, your voice thick with urgency as you pressed your lips against the hard bulge straining against the rough fabric of his jeans. The heat of him was intoxicating, the pressure of his cock beneath your lips sending a fresh wave of arousal through your body. “Please, Joel… I need you. I need to taste you, to feel you on my tongue.”

You kissed him again, harder this time, your lips dragging over his clothed cock as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Let me suck your cock, Joel. Please. I’ll be so good for you. I’ll take you so deep, baby. I need it so bad, I can’t stand it anymore.”

Your breath was hot against him, your lips moving up and down his clothed length as you kissed and licked over the thick bulge, tasting the rough fabric but craving the feel of him, hot and heavy, against your tongue. “Please, baby,” you begged, your voice almost a whimper. “I need it. I need to feel you in my mouth, to taste every inch of you. Let me make you feel good.”

Your hands roamed over his thighs, squeezing gently as you continued to kiss and worship his cock through his jeans. “I’ve been waiting for this,” you whispered between kisses, your lips brushing the head of his clothed cock. “Dreaming about having you in my mouth, tasting you. I need to feel you filling my mouth, baby. Please. Please let me suck your cock.”

You could feel him twitch beneath the fabric, his restraint slipping as you licked him through his jeans, teasing him, your breath hot and needy against him. “I’ll be so good to you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “I’ll take you deep, I promise. Let me feel you on my tongue, Joel. I’ll make you feel so fucking good. Please… I need it so bad.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as your hand slipped inside his jeans, finding his thick, hard cock waiting for you. “Jesus, darlin’,” he muttered through clenched teeth, trying to focus on the road. “You’re gonna drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

You licked your lips, not wasting a second as you freed him from his jeans, his cock thick and heavy in your hand, already leaking precum. You leaned down, licking the head, tasting the saltiness of him as you swirled your tongue around the tip. Joel groaned loudly, his hips jerking slightly as you teased him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice strained. “You really want this, don’t ya?”

“Fuck, look at you,” Joel groaned, his voice full of filthy praise. “Suckin’ me so fuckin’ good, just like you said. You love this cock, don’t you? Been waitin’ to taste it, to feel it stretchin’ that tight mouth of yours.”

You whimpered in response, taking him deeper, your lips stretched tight around his thick length as you bobbed your head, sucking harder, your tongue flicking over the sensitive underside of his cock. His groans filled the truck, dark and full of possession, as if he couldn’t believe he had you like this, your mouth worshipping him.

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” Joel panted, his hand slipping from the wheel to thread through your hair, guiding your movements.

You moaned softly in response, taking him deeper into your mouth, sucking him in slow, deliberate strokes. You hollowed your cheeks, letting your tongue tease the sensitive underside of his cock as you moved up and down, your hand stroking the base in time with your mouth. The weight of him felt perfect, and you wanted to taste every inch.

“Goddamn, baby,” Joel growled, his voice thick with need. “You feel so fuckin’ good. Keep goin’, just like that.”

“That’s it, darlin’, fuck, you’re so good at this,” Joel growled, his hips bucking slightly into your mouth, fucking your throat just a little harder now. “You’re gonna take it all, aren’t ya? Every last fuckin’ inch. This cock is yours now, baby. You gotta take care of it.”

His grip tightened in your hair as he guided you, pushing you down further, groaning as he felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, but it only spurred you on, your tongue swirling around him as you took him deeper.

“You’re so fuckin’ dirty, beggin’ for it like this,” Joel grunted, his voice thick with possession. “You love it, don’t ya? Love feelin’ me fillin’ that sweet mouth of yours. You’re mine now, baby. No one else is ever gonna touch you again. You’re all fuckin’ mine.”

You moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him twitch in your mouth. You wanted more—you wanted to take all of him. Without hesitating, you moved lower, letting your tongue trail down his shaft to his balls, licking and sucking them gently. Joel’s breath hitched, his body tensing as you lavished attention on his balls, your hands still stroking his cock as your tongue teased the sensitive skin.

“Shit,” Joel gasped, his voice rough as his hips bucked. “You’re fuckin’ incredible… that mouth of yours…”

You sucked one of his balls into your mouth, letting it fill your cheeks as your tongue swirled around it slowly, savoring every second. Your hand still worked his thick cock, stroking him steadily, feeling him pulse in your grip as his body tensed.

Joel’s breathing had turned ragged, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he tried to keep the truck steady. The raw desire that radiated from him only made you hungrier for more.

You moved your lips lower, taking his other ball into your mouth, your tongue gently massaging him, your mouth hot and wet as you worshipped him. “Fuck, Joel,” you whimpered, your voice muffled by the weight of him. “I love the way you taste… I want all of you in my mouth. Let me feel it. Let me swallow it all, baby. Please, I need to taste you.”

Joel groaned low in his throat, his hips bucking slightly as your tongue traced the sensitive skin of his balls. “Goddamn, baby… you’re so fuckin’ filthy. So desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, strained, and dripping with satisfaction. “You’re finally mine now, huh? That sweet mouth of yours… all fuckin’ mine.”

You moaned around his balls, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through him, making him twitch in your hand. You stroked him faster, your fingers curling around the base of his cock as your mouth worked him over, licking and sucking every inch of him. The scent of him, the taste of him—it was overwhelming, and you couldn’t get enough. You wanted him to fall apart for you, to feel how much you craved him.

You pulled back for a second, pressing wet kisses along the length of his cock, trailing your tongue from the base to the tip before dipping back down to his balls. “Please, Joel,” you begged again, your voice trembling with desperation. “I want to feel you cum in my mouth, baby. I need to swallow every drop, to taste all of you. I need you so fucking bad.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his cock throbbing in your hand as you sucked his balls back into your mouth, gently massaging them with your tongue, taking your time to worship every inch of him. He let out a low growl, his voice filled with lust. “You want me to fill that pretty little mouth of yours, don’t ya?” he rasped, his hips lifting slightly, pressing himself deeper into your mouth. “Fuck… you’re finally all mine, baby. Gonna make sure you never forget it.”

You moaned around him again, your hand pumping his cock faster as your tongue worked over his sensitive head, wet and hot. The weight of him in your mouth, the taste of his skin—it made your whole body ache with need. You wanted to please him, to make him lose control, to take him over the edge. You needed it, craved it like nothing else.

“You love this, don’t you?” Joel groaned, his voice thick with possession. “Suckin’ my balls like a good girl… takin’ my cock so fuckin’ deep. You’re mine now, aren’t ya?”

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “Yes, Joel. I’m yours. All yours. I’ll do anything for you.”

Without waiting for his response, you wrapped your lips around his cock again, taking him deep into your mouth, your hand working the base as your tongue swirled around the head. You sucked him harder, your mouth moving in perfect rhythm with your hand, and you could feel the tension building in his body, his cock throbbing as he neared the edge.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel growled, his voice thick with need. “I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna fill that perfect mouth of yours, and you’re gonna swallow every fuckin’ drop.”

You moaned in response, your mouth working him faster, your hand stroking him harder as you felt him pulse in your mouth. His grip tightened on your hair, guiding your movements as he bucked his hips, fucking your throat in short, sharp thrusts.

“Take it all, baby,” Joel groaned, his voice rough with pleasure as he came, his cock throbbing as he spilled into your mouth, hot and thick. You swallowed greedily, your lips wrapped tightly around him, taking everything he had to give, your tongue swirling around the head as you drained him completely.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and full of satisfaction. “That’s it, baby… take every last bit.”

Joel’s breath was still ragged as he came down from the high, but when you tried to move, his hand stayed firm in your hair. “Not so fast, baby,” he growled softly, the dark possessiveness in his voice making your heart race. “Clean me up real slow, now. Real gentle.”

His cock, still glistening and sensitive, twitched as he guided your head back toward it, his fingers threading through your hair. “Yeah… that’s it,” Joel muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Lick up every drop, baby. You’ve gotta take care of what’s yours now, huh? This cock’s all yours, so show me how good you can be.”

Your tongue flicked out, gently running over his shaft, cleaning him up just like he wanted, savoring the musky taste of his release. Joel’s grip on your hair loosened slightly, but he was still guiding you, his voice low and filthy as he watched you work.

“Hmm, yeah… now the balls again,” he whispered, his tone coaxing, yet commanding. “You love those, don’t you? Go ahead, baby. Show ‘em some love.”

You eagerly obeyed, sucking one of his balls into your mouth, rolling it gently with your tongue, while your hand continued to stroke his still-hard cock. Joel groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair as he let out a deep, satisfied growl.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he rasped, his breath heavy with desire. “Takin’ care of me so fuckin’ good. You’re such a good girl, aren’t ya?”

You hummed in response, letting your mouth worship every inch of him, moving between his balls and his cock, savoring the way he throbbed under your touch. Joel’s low grunts of approval sent shivers through you, making you ache for more.

“Good job, baby,” he murmured, his voice husky as you finished, licking him clean. “Such a good girl, makin’ sure this cock’s taken care of. This is yours now—every inch of it. No one else’s. Gotta make sure it’s ready whenever you need it.”

You pulled back slowly, meeting his gaze with a breathless smile. His cock was still wet from your attention, twitching slightly, and you could see the fire still burning in his dark eyes.

Joel reached down, brushing his thumb across your lips, smirking at the sight of you kneeling before him. “All clean, baby. You did good. So fuckin’ good,” he said, his voice filled with possessive pride. “This is what a real man gives you, huh? What you deserve.”

His thumb slipped inside your mouth, and you sucked on it gently, your eyes never leaving his, still drunk on the power of what you’d just shared. Joel’s hand slid down your cheek, cupping your face, his voice dropping to a possessive murmur.

"Yeah… you’re mine now. Gonna fuck you whenever I want, fill you up however I want," Joel growled, his voice dark and full of lust. “Don’t forget—you belong to me now, baby. This cock’s yours, but you’re mine.”

As Joel’s breath finally steadied, his hand released its tight grip on you, and a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. His eyes flickered down to you, dark with a mix of lust and admiration, while his other hand remained firm on the steering wheel, still guiding the truck along the winding road.

“All that,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing, “while I’m still makin’ sure we survive this damn drive.”

You wiped the corner of your mouth, smiling up at him, the taste of him still fresh on your tongue. The hum of the engine and the rhythmic pulse of the road beneath the tires kept you grounded in reality, but the fire between you burned even brighter.

Joel shifted slightly in his seat, his cock still twitching from the aftermath. “You’re somethin’ else, baby,” he growled softly, his hand brushing against your thigh possessively, fingers lingering just to remind you that this was far from over. “But I ain’t done with you yet. When we stop, I’m gonna make sure you feel every inch of me. All night.”

You smiled to yourself, knowing full well that the night was far from over. The tension still hummed in the air, thick and heady, as Joel drove on, the road stretching out ahead of you like the beginning of something you both had waited far too long for.

· · ────

8 months later.

The sun had just started to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light across Joel’s living room, illuminating the soft textures of the couch beneath you as you lay there, soaking in the quiet comfort of your surroundings. The room felt peaceful, but there was something more—something that wrapped around you like a blanket of gratitude. You had never felt this kind of peace before, this kind of contentment.

You lay back, resting your head against a cushion as you watched Joel and Sarah from across the room, both of them caught up in some playful argument over something silly. Sarah was laughing, her face bright with amusement as she playfully swatted at Joel’s arm. Joel, pretending to be exasperated, let out an exaggerated sigh, but you could see the smile tugging at his lips as he grabbed a pillow and tossed it gently in Sarah’s direction.

“Watch it, old man!” Sarah teased, dodging the pillow as she laughed.

“Old man?” Joel shot back, his eyebrows raising in mock offense. “I’ll show you ‘old man,’ kid.”

The two of them wrestled and teased each other, their laughter filling the room, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched them. This was your life now—this warmth, this love. It still felt surreal, like you were living in a dream you hadn’t quite woken from yet. How had you gotten here? How had you found something so precious after so many years of feeling lost and unseen?

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, not from sadness, but from pure gratitude. This was everything you had ever wanted—family, love, and the feeling of being seen. You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, letting the joy wash over you as you continued to watch them play fight, their laughter like music in the background.

Eight months ago, this life had seemed impossible.

Eight months ago, you were trapped. The woman you were back then was unrecognizable now—desperate, aching for a way out, for someone to see her, for someone to care. You had spent years in a marriage that had drained you, years trying to be someone you weren’t, trying to make something work that had been broken from the start.

The divorce had been a long time coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. You remembered the fear that had clawed at you as you walked into that courtroom, the uncertainty of leaving behind something that had been your entire life for so long. But Joel had been there with you, steady and solid. He had never wavered, and just knowing he was there had made the difference.

The memory of that day was still so clear. You had walked out of that courthouse feeling lighter, feeling free. And then—Joel. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the memory wash over you like a wave.

You had barely made it out of the courtroom, the finality of the judge’s ruling still ringing in your ears when the weight of everything hit you. It was like a rush of adrenaline, a mixture of relief and fear and something electric that sparked deep inside you. You had glanced at Joel, his steady presence grounding you, but the look in his eyes—dark, full of unspoken things—had sent a shiver down your spine.

Without thinking, you had grabbed his hand and pulled him into the nearest bathroom, the door slamming shut behind you. Your heart had been pounding in your chest, the rush of emotions swirling in your mind, but it had been the desire—the need—that took over. The need to feel alive, to feel like you had control over your life again.

Joel hadn’t hesitated. His hands had been on you in an instant, pulling you against him as his lips crashed into yours. “Fuck, baby,” he had growled against your mouth, his voice thick with lust. “You’re finally mine.”

His words had sent a bolt of heat through you, your fingers already fumbling with his belt, desperate to feel him. You hadn’t cared that it was reckless, that anyone could walk in. All you had cared about was the way his hands gripped your waist, the way he pressed you up against the bathroom stall, his breath hot against your neck.

You whimpered as his hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt up in one swift motion. His touch was rough, urgent, but filled with a possessive tenderness that made your head spin. “He didn’t deserve you,” Joel muttered against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as his hands yanked your panties down. “Never fuckin’ deserved you. But I do. I’m gonna show you what it feels like to be with a real man.”

Your breath hitched as he spun you around, pressing your chest against the cold metal door, his fingers slipping between your legs to find you already soaking wet. “Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, his voice thick with desire. “You’re so wet for me already. Bet you’ve been waitin’ for this.”

“Please,” you whimpered, pushing your hips back toward him, desperate for him to fill you. “I need you, Joel. I can’t wait anymore.”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers teasing your slick folds before pulling away. You heard the sound of his zipper, then the heat of his cock pressing against your entrance. “You were too fuckin’ good for him,” Joel growled, his breath hot against your ear as he gripped your hips. “But now you’re mine, baby. You belong to me.”

Without warning, he thrust into you, filling you in one deep, rough stroke. You gasped, your hands bracing against the door as Joel’s cock stretched you, his pace immediately hard and fast. He wasn’t holding back, and you didn’t want him to.

“Goddamn, baby,” Joel groaned, his voice rough and low as he fucked into you. “You feel so fuckin’ good. So tight around me. No one’s ever gonna touch you again. You understand?”

You moaned, your body trembling as he drove into you harder, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. “Yes,” you gasped, your voice breathless. “Joel—oh God, you feel so good. No one’s ever—”

“Damn right,” Joel growled, cutting you off as his hand slid down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. “He never touched you like this, did he? Never fucked you like you deserved. But I’m gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard, you won’t remember his name. Everyday.”

His fingers rubbed tight, deliberate circles on your clit, and your body arched against him, your legs trembling as you felt yourself getting closer and closer. “Joel,” you whimpered, your hands gripping the door for support. “I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“Cum for me, baby,” Joel groaned, his voice rough and demanding. “Show me who this pussy belongs to.”

With a cry, you came hard around his cock, your entire body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Joel didn’t slow down, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with possession. “I’m gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna fuckin’ pump you full. Make sure you never forget who owns you now.”

With one final, deep thrust, Joel groaned loudly, spilling inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his cum. The heat of him filling you made your head spin, your body still trembling as he leaned against you, catching his breath.

His hands slid up your sides, his touch softer now, his lips pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck. “You’re mine now,” he murmured, his voice thick with both lust and something deeper, something softer. “No one else is ever gonna touch you. I’ll treat you so fuckin’ good, baby. You’ll never want for anything again.”

The memory faded as you blinked back into the present, the warmth of the room bringing you back to the reality of now. But the echoes of that courthouse moment still lingered, like a secret you shared with Joel, one that shaped everything between you.

You realized, belatedly, that both Joel and Sarah had stopped their playful banter and were looking at you, concern in their eyes. Joel stood there, his brows furrowed slightly, and Sarah had that soft, inquisitive look she wore when she was worried.

“Everything okay?” Joel asked, his voice low and gentle as he took a small step toward you.

Sarah shot him a quick look before turning back to you, her eyes wide and warm. “You look sad,” she said softly. Then, without another word, she launched herself across the room, flopping dramatically onto the couch and onto your lap, her arms wrapping around you in a tight hug.

The sudden weight of Sarah’s embrace, the way she was trying to comfort you in her own dramatic way, made you laugh, and the sound broke through the heaviness of the moment. “I’m not sad, honey,” you said, your voice soft and warm as you hugged her back. “I’m just… thinking.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched the two of you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. He crossed the room, sitting down beside you on the couch, his hand finding its place on your thigh as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

Sarah, always the observer, sat up and shot Joel a mischievous grin. “You better cuddle her too, Dad,” she teased, though the way she said it made it clear she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Joel chuckled, his arm sliding around your shoulders as he tugged you closer, his lips brushing lightly against your cheek. “She’s right,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, darlin’? You seemed miles away.”

You leaned into the warmth of Joel’s body, resting your head on his shoulder as you let out a soft sigh. “I was just… thinking about everything. About the day we finalized the divorce,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “About how different everything is now.”

Sarah wiggled herself into your lap, cuddling into your chest as she peered up at you. “You’re happy now though, right?” she asked, her voice small but sure.

You looked down at her, a wave of emotion swelling in your chest as you ran your fingers through her hair. “So happy,” you whispered, the words thick with truth. “I wouldn’t change this for anything.”

Joel kissed the top of your head, his arm tightening around you. “You don’t ever have to look back again, baby,” he said softly, his voice full of the quiet reassurance you’d come to love so much. “You’re right where you belong now, with us.”

You smiled, feeling the overwhelming warmth of their love wrap around you, and you pressed a soft kiss to Sarah’s forehead before turning to Joel. “I know,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him, your lips brushing against his in a slow, tender moment.

Joel kissed you back, soft and lingering, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, and when he pulled away, he smiled, his eyes searching yours with a warmth that made your heart swell. “You’re our family now,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with conviction. “And we’re gonna keep makin’ sure you’re happy. Always.”

Sarah squirmed between the two of you, giggling at the closeness, clearly teasing but with a smile that lit up her entire face. “Okay, okay! I get it, you guys love each other,” she laughed, wriggling out of your lap and stretching her arms out. “But don’t go all mushy on me now.”

You and Joel both chuckled, the sound blending with the easy warmth that had filled the room. You reached out, ruffling Sarah’s hair playfully, and her mock annoyance only made you smile wider. Joel’s deep chuckle rumbled next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you a little closer.

But as the moment settled, Joel leaned in, his voice dropping low so only you could hear, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Later tonight, though,” he whispered, his tone thick with promise, “I’ll remind you just how much I love you. Can’t wait to get you all alone, baby.”

You felt a flush of heat bloom over your skin, your heart racing at the teasing edge in Joel’s voice. His hand slipped down to your hip, squeezing gently, and though his gaze was soft, the intensity in his words sent a shiver through you.

But as the warmth of the moment settled around you, a wave of emotion washed over you, deeper than anything physical. Tears welled up in your eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming happiness you never thought you’d feel again. It wasn’t just about desire—it was about being seen, about being loved in a way that made you feel whole.

You blinked quickly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but they weren’t tears of pain or regret. They were the kind that come when you realize you’ve found the place you belong, the kind that make you feel grounded and safe. You felt Joel’s arm tighten around you, as if he could sense your emotions without you saying a word, and when you glanced up at him, his eyes were filled with nothing but love.

“You okay, baby?” Joel asked softly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek again, the warmth in his gaze steady and comforting.

You nodded, smiling through the tears, your heart swelling with gratitude for the life you had now. “I’m more than okay,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m just… so happy. I didn’t think I could feel like this again.”

Sarah, still nestled beside you, glanced up, catching the tearful look on your face and frowning in concern. “Are you crying?” she asked, her voice soft but curious.

You let out a small laugh, ruffling her hair again as you quickly wiped away a tear. “I’m crying because I’m happy,” you assured her, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m so lucky to have you both.”

Sarah’s face brightened with a smile, and she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, her warmth spreading through you like a blanket. Joel leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, and the quiet, comforting presence of him grounded you even further.

In that moment, surrounded by the two people who had become your everything, you knew this was what it meant to be truly loved, to be seen. And you couldn’t imagine your life any other way.

Joel’s hand squeezed yours gently, his eyes filled with that same warmth that always made your heart race. “We’re the lucky ones, baby,” he said quietly, his voice low and tender. “Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Sarah, sensing the emotional weight of the moment, smiled up at you before wrapping her arms around you again. “You’re stuck with us now!” she teased, her tone light, but the meaning behind her words was clear. She meant it, and you felt it—this was where you were meant to be.

You let out a small laugh, feeling a deep warmth settle in your chest. For so long, you had been lost in a life that didn’t belong to you, stuck in a marriage where you felt invisible, forgotten. But now, sitting here with Joel and Sarah, you realized just how far you’d come. You had broken free from that prison, taken control of your own story, and allowed yourself to be loved and seen in a way you never thought possible.

Life can change, you thought. Sometimes, all it takes is one decision—a choice to put yourself first, to demand more, to refuse to settle for anything less than what you deserve. You had once believed that you were trapped, that your life was set in stone, but you now knew better. You had the power to change things, to rewrite your story, and to choose happiness.

Joel’s arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer as Sarah continued to chatter about her day, her laughter filling the room. You smiled, feeling the love in the air, the sense of belonging that had once felt so foreign to you.

“Situations change,” you whispered softly, almost to yourself, but Joel heard you. His lips pressed gently against your temple, a quiet reminder of his unwavering presence by your side.

“They do,” he murmured, his voice warm and filled with pride. “And you had the strength to change yours.”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of those words settle deep within you. You had the power to make the change—to walk away from what no longer served you, to embrace the love and the life you knew you deserved. And now, as you sat there with the two people who meant the world to you, you realized that every struggle, every tear, had been worth it.

It wasn’t always easy, and there had been moments when you doubted yourself, moments when you wondered if you were making the right choice. But looking at Joel and Sarah now, you knew—without a doubt—that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

This was your new beginning. And it was beautiful.

As the evening light continued to fade, wrapping your home in a soft, golden glow, you closed your eyes and smiled. You had the power to shape your future, and this… this was just the start of something wonderful.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 15 days ago

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I want to smell like you.

Pairing: Father in law!Joel Miller x f!reader Words count: 949, all filthy again because why not. Rating: +18, MDNI, NSFW Summary: Joel hears you during the night and can’t help himself Tags/warnings: Joel POV, implied but unspecified age gap, cheating, pathetic yearning old man Joel (lol, he’s desperate for you, bb), Joel thoughts marked in italics, male masturbation, Joel has a son in this one, swearing, mention of alcohol consumption, as usual reader has barely no description, she doesn’t blush, she has hair but it’s not described, she has female genitalia. A/N: sequel for Not the real deal, I think it can be read as a standalone but if you haven’t read the first one yet, it’s only 382 more filthy words 😇 I'm slowly trying to return functioning like a normal human, I’m still hanging in there, I’m happy that I was able to write at least this one. No beta, no proofreading, English is not my first language and I’m sorry for any mistake. Thanks to @joelmillerisapunk for her constant support, I don’t know where I would be without you, bb. Love you so much ♥️ Hope you’ll like it and thanks for giving so much love to the first one, I never had that amount of notes before and I’m truly grateful and overwhelmed ♥️

Masterlist | Joel Masterlist

These walls are so thin.

They don't make houses like they used to.

Joel turns over on the lumpy mattress.

Frustrated, deprived of sleep, he lies on his back with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

“It'll be over, it'll be over soon.” He groans.

Ten minutes have passed, they seemed like an eternity.

You are on the other side of the wall and he can hear you clearly.

You have no business being so loud, fucking hell.

He could swear he can pick out every single sound.

The sucking, the slapping, the sliding, the clinging.

The wood of the headboard, your sweet voice broken by sobs.

He could describe every single thing that is happening in that room without seeing it.

He closes his eyes and you’re before him.

Naked, disheveled, your delicious breasts bouncing in the air, your soft thighs wide open, your expression rapt, your mouth agape showing a row of delicate white teeth that sparkle in the dark.

Your eyebrows are raised, your forehead is beaded with sweat, your tongue darts between your lips, your eyes are clouded with desire.

It's too much to bear.

And when you start making that unmistakable sound that is yours and only yours when you’re totally lost in your pleasure, when he feels your breathing quicken and become heavy, he knows he won't be able to resist.

His hands get rid of his boxers mechanically, throwing them on the floor.

He shouldn’t do that but he can’t stop, he’s not in control of his own movements anymore.

Not when your honeyed voice fills his ears with moans and little whimpers and his cock is impossibly hard.

Not when he should be the one fucking you right now instead of being relegated to the guest room.

At least he took after me in terms of stamina.

Fuck.

This is her pussy.

Her juicy little pussy slapping against his cock, swallowing him whole.

He spits on his palm and grab his shaft, fisting it desperately into his hand, muttering angrily, wrapped in the sheets, teeth gritted, blood rushing to his brain, adrenaline blurring his vision, big fat cock covered in his precum throbbing between his fingers as he dream to be buried deep inside of you, your cream dripping all over him.

He tried to push that feeling away, he tried really hard for a very long time.

That heat expanding in his chest whenever he sees you with him has a name that he desperately tries to not address: Jealousy.

It’s so damn stupid, he himself led you to the altar and handed you over to him.

He should have more consideration for his son. But he can't stop thinking that you should be his and his alone.

He feels pathetic, beyond redemption, as he strokes his cock like a horny teenager.

Every molecule of you is like a drug, a siren song that wrecks his reason.

Cum is spilling on his hand, staining the sheets, dripping on his legs, he’s making a fool of himself, wishing he could paint your tits, wishing he could fingerfuck his sticky mess into your warm cunt, wishing you could be on his side of the wall on your knees, tongue out waiting for every drop.

He covers his mouth with his hand trying to stifle your name that rises to his lips. He bites into his own flesh, he moans and groans and curses himself.

His orgasm is strong but not nearly as devastating as if you were there.

Nothing compares.

The noise has stopped.

He breathes a sigh of relief, reaching for a tissue on the nightstand. The box is empty.

He reluctantly gets up and slips silently out the door.

His now soft cock dangles between his legs, the cold air contrasting with the heat of his sweaty chest makes him shiver as he tries to reach the bathroom.

As he places his hand on the handle he hears the door of your room open.

Fuck.

He hasn’t even put his boxers back on, his mind really isn’t reasoning anymore.

What will I do if it’s him?

He is in his son's house.

He insisted he spend the night there because he had one glass too many at dinner.

"It's not safe for you to drive like that, stay," he had told him.

And now he’s here, naked in the hallway.

Fuck.

It’s you, thank goodness.

A vision in lacy lingerie.

He feels his heart beating in his throat.

“Hey.” you whisper, moving closer to him and hugging him from behind. You bury your face between his shoulder blades, your tits pressed against his broad back, leaving small kisses on his skin, licking away a streak of his sweat.

“Hey.” he replies coldly, his voice hoarse.

“I heard you,” he grumbles softly.

“I know,” you purr, “I wanted you to hear me.”

You’re cruel when you want to be, why do this to me?

“You smell like him.” He groans.

“Yeah, but I’ve been thinking about you all the damn time.”

Joel feels a surge of pride fill his body, his cock reacting to your words.

“Is he sleeping?”

“Yes,” you murmur against his skin and then add, “Joel, I can’t wait any longer.”

“What do you want, baby?” he smirks in the dark hallway, one hand on the bathroom doorknob, the other gripping the wrist of your arm around his waist.

“I want to smell like you.”

tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @baronessvonglitter @harriedandharassed @probablyreadinsmut @almostempty @thundermartini @cas-readsandwrites @lemon-nomel

archive tag: @pedrostories

let me know if you want to be added or removed, I'll do it right away! Thanks for reading ❤️

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

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alwayslurkinginthebackground · 2 months ago

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Rocking Chair - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: E, unprotected p in v, slightest of breeding kinks?, idk y'all I just went feral here. Word Count: 2156 a/n: Happy TLOU Sunday! I genuinely blacked out while writing half of this in some kind of NyQuil induced haze! Enjoy!

Something is bothering him.

You clocked it the second you walked over the threshold of his brother's home. Actually, you knew something was up long before that, when he kept trying to make excuses as to why you and Ellie should go and he should stay home, despite the fact that it was his brother. Eventually, you convinced him to follow you down the street, Ellie chattering excitedly about the prospect of having a baby in the family while Joel dragged his feet.

His mood only worsened as the evening went on, following the trend of distance he'd been following since the baby arrived, a pattern that made you uneasy. Tonight, it was difficult to tell if it was the result of the mirage of questioning from the handful of close friends Tommy and Maria had invited over to meet their new son or because of whatever was lurking in the depths of his mind, but you kept trying to pinpoint it. You could only assume that it was some combination of both, a hypothesis only strengthened by the look of disappointment in the younger Miller brother's eyes when his sibling politely declined the opportunity to hold his nephew.

You're next to Ellie on the couch, the newest resident of Jackson tucked into your arms, when you meet his eyes from across the room for what feels like the thousandth time since you arrived. He's leaning against the door to the kitchen and you can see the discomfort in his posture and the way his shoulders tense further as yet another person approaches to congratulate him as though he was the new father and not his brother.

"Can I hold him?" Ellie asks suddenly, pulling your attention back to your side of the room. You turn to find her bright eyes looking down at the sleeping child, and it's impossible to stop the spread of warmth through your chest at the teen's eagerness. After a quick glance at Maria for permission, you gently pass the bundle over to Ellie, showing her how to properly cradle his head.

Joel's still watching when you turn back to the kitchen, his gaze securely set on the way Ellie is beaming as she holds the newborn. There's something hovering beneath the surface of his dark gaze, the root of whatever has truly been bothering him, and you feel certain you've almost worked it out when Ellie elbows you.

"He's waking up! What do I do?!"

"Just keep holding him, it'll be okay," you reassure her, although when the crying starts a moment later you can't help but join in the laughter filling the room as Ellie quickly hands the baby back to his mother. She breathes a sigh of relief and flops back on the couch the second he's out of her arms, and you give her a pat on the shoulder before you naturally seek out Joel once more, only to find him gone.

You don't see him again until the gathering winds down. He's eager to get home, and soon he's resuming his vigil of silence on the walk back down the street. He's behind you, always behind you, his shoulders still set in the same rigid formation they've been in all night, and you walk a few feet ahead with Ellie, doing your best to answer her questions about when the baby will start talking or walking and whether you think he'll look more like Tommy or Maria when he gets older.

The delicate balance that has been hanging between the three of you all evening holds steady until you're back through your own door, when three sets of eyes land on the rocking chair that still sits nearby, the silence soon enveloping you all.

"I thought you were going to bring that for Tommy and Maria?" Ellie asks, breaking the tension in a way that has you wincing, even if she's right. The chair still smells of fresh lumber, the smooth edges molded by Joel's hands in the late hours of the night when he couldn't sleep, and it's still sitting in your living room.

"Didn't he want it?" she continues, earning her an elbow to the ribs courtesy of your right arm. Joel grumbles something behind you as Ellie winces, and you're already silently begging her not to push it further. She must catch the look you give her because a moment later she's heading upstairs with a heavy sigh, the door of her room closing with a soft click.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" you inquire firmly once you're alone, arms crossing over your chest as you watch Joel move into the kitchen.

He dismisses you with a shake of his head and a muttered "nothin's wrong," but the way he stands, unmoving as he stares at the sparse contents of the fridge, tells you otherwise.

"No, something is bothering you, so do you wanna start with why you've been distant all week or would you rather discuss the way you tried to stay as far away as possible from your new nephew tonight?"

It's easy to see the way he tenses when you finish your questioning. You've known him long enough to recognize the subtle straightening of his spine whenever you hit a little too close to the mark and the way he avoids eye contact when he turns back in your direction, a signal that you have indeed gotten under his skin. It's in the familiar quiet that descends upon the kitchen as you wait for him to speak.

Only, unlike the clockwork routine you expect to follow, the one that usually has him letting down a few of his walls for you and you alone, you instead find yourself hauled against his body like a man possessed. When his grasp trails to your thighs, it's mostly instinct that has you jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist in a practiced motion.

He's pinning you against the counter within seconds.

"Joel," you mumble, trying to sound stern even as his lips trail along your jawline, down your neck, and across the expanse of your chest, trailing lower until he's found where you're wet and wanting. You try to get him to look at you, hands raking through the hair he's refused to cut as of late, hopeful that his gaze will tell you something about the way you can feel him avoiding whatever it is that's on his mind. A hint as to why he's using you to forget instead of working through the emotions that are obviously controlling his every move.

But when your eyes meet his again, you only see the feral haze of lust, and you can do nothing but give in when he's pressing his nose against the damp spot between your thighs, leaving you thankful for the warm summer air that made you choose one of the few dresses in your closet as your attire for the evening.

He's slipped your panties from your legs in record time, leaving you squirming atop the edge of the small island in the center of the room. It's obvious that he won't be gentle, not tonight, not when he's hard between your thighs a moment later, filling you in a swift motion that has you wondering when he managed to even unbutton his jeans. You bite into the soft flesh of his shoulder, holding in the scream that could alert the teenager upstairs about what's currently happening in the kitchen, but the sound crawls up your chest with each pound of his hips against yours.

"Quiet," he whispers harshly in your ear, an unnecessary command because a moment later he's devouring you again, the frantic movement of his lips against yours concealing any evidence that threatens to escape. It's fast, the way he's rutting into you, within you, driving you higher until you're no longer certain where he stops and you begin.

And then you notice it. You catch the way he's focused on something over your shoulder, but it isn't until he's lifted you from the counter and carried you effortlessly across the room that your mind begins to process.

Ellie's earlier question slips from your mouth when he settles you in his lap, your knees braced against the wood on either side of his hips. "Thought this was for Tommy," you grit out when he guides your hips against his own, the chair rocking back in a way that leaves you feeling off balance. "I thought it was for the ba..."

He cuts you off with a grunt, pulling you back down and holding you tightly against him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He's strangely silent, his movements slowing to nothing even as the chair continues to shift slowly back and forth beneath you. The only sound remaining is the heavy rhythm of your breath, your body relaxing further against his in a way that makes it impossible not to feel him everywhere.

"Hey," you ask, voice softer now, more at ease, because you know he'll hear you this time. "I saw the way you were looking at them, earlier." He says nothing as you trace your fingers along the greying stubble on his jaw and you wait to see if he'll answer you, even if you already know his answer to the question you haven't asked.

It wasn't a secret to anyone that Joel was struggling with the idea of his brother having a kid, but it left everyone treading a fine line between the eager new father and the man still plagued by the memories of his lost daughter. The prospect of new joys mirrored only by the multitude of moments stolen long, long ago.

So when Joel had brought up the idea of the rocking chair, it caught you off guard. Things had been understandably tense between the Miller brothers, but it felt to you like Joel was finally finding peace with the situation, the rocking chair serving as an olive branch. One that might just help repair the broken parts of their relationship. But now, wrapped up in his arms, you begin to realize that perhaps you've been reading it all wrong.

You smooth back his hair from his forehead, looking down at him, and you see it. It's not just the loss of Sarah he's mourning now. It's the loss of all of it.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You move.

The sound that escapes his lips as you lift from his lap can only be described as a growl, one that you can feel rumbling in his chest when you brace your hands against it. You're slow at first, letting his length drag along your walls until he's nearly slipped from your heat, and then you fall back down. Joel's hands slip beneath the fabric of your dress, pushing it up along the expanse of your back as his fingers trail along your spine.

He pulls you closer then, his grip just as possessive as earlier, tugging you against him in a way that has you keening. You do your best to cling to reality, gripping the wood behind his head, nails digging into the surface as he continues to guide you. But when he tries to lift you from his lap, as he tries to proceed through the practiced motions that will leave him spilling across your stomach, you stop him.

"It's okay," you whisper against his ear, "let go."

For a moment he resists, his eyes clamping shut with the effort it takes to ward off his own climax as you continue to clench around him. But when you whisper it again, it's all the encouragement he needs. He finally snaps, pulling you somehow closer as he buries his length in your heat, the movement causing the chair that supports you both to rock back and forth gently as he fills you to the brim.

The air in the room feels different as you come back to earth, the two of you still nearly fully clothed as you perch atop his lap. He's softening inside you, the gentle feeling of his release trickling down your thigh and onto his jeans, but neither of you have the will to move aside from the way you gently rest your head against his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" Joel asks a while after, the question sounding redundant as his hands run soothingly along your back.

You nod against him, pressing your lips to the spot where his shoulder meets his neck. "I'm sure. Although," you pause, pulling back, "I think you might need to make another chair for Tommy and Maria."

"And why would that be?" he questions in a way that, for the first time in weeks, makes you feel like the man you love is back.

"Because," you kiss him softly, "we're gonna need this one for us."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou sundays #lurking and writing

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alltheirdamn · 8 months ago

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Rotten | cowboy!joel x f!reader

Part II

Summary: Joel just can't leave you alone, and you hate it. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, banter and arguing, mentions of guns/violence, smoking, explicit language, sexual tension, brat taming, mild dubious elements, spanking, slapping, choking, rough unprotected piv sex, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, squirting, facial/cum eating, joel doesn't really take no for an answer, lots of angst A/N: I just couldn't get enough of these two. all my love to @lotusbxtch and @mermaidgirl30 for squealing over the filth every single day with me. ride that cowboy girlies, it's worth it ;) Part I

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Your fingers were wet from the condensation rolling off your glass of sweet tea, the steady stream of droplets splattering against your bare thighs. The day had been exhausting; the cattle were abnormally restless and decided to drift too far out in the fields. Hours riding Mac left your legs sore, and honestly, you just wanted to smoke your Marlboros and sip on your tea. With your boots kicked up on the porch railing and a cigarette between your lips, you were blissfully content.

That is, until your peace and quiet were shattered.

Dirt kicked up in the distance, and the steady rhythmic hum of an engine grew louder as it drifted closer to your house. You groaned in frustration, already knowing who to expect. Dear God, was Joel Miller relentless. You reached behind your porch chair, fingers curling around the shotgun propped up against the wood. You warned him.

His beat-up Red Chevy stopped beside your home, and you tracked his movements as he opened the door. Lifting the gun to your eye level, you aimed the barrel toward his truck. Your finger hovered over the trigger, steady and calm. Joel stepped out of the driver's seat, adjusting his belt buckle against his stomach. You wouldn’t kill him; you weren’t that mean, although it was tempting.

One quick pull of the trigger and you sent a warning shot into the side door of his truck, rupturing the metal with a resounding bang. Joel ducked down, letting out a startled grunt before turning his head to inspect the damage. Whipping head toward you, Joel stared you down with narrowed eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he huffed. “That how y’welcome all your visitors?”

“Only the ones who piss me off!” You shouted.

Joel ran a hand down his scruff, swaying in place as if deciding whether to approach you. Do it, you thought. He made one cautious step, and you rewarded him with another cock of your shotgun, the barrel loaded and ready to fire.

“Take it easy, darlin’. I only wanted to come talk,” Joel cautioned, his hands raised in defeat.

“S’nothin’ to fuckin’ talk about, Miller,” you said, your eye squinting down the barrel line.

Each step of his cowboy boots crunched the earth below, slow steps progressing forward. Joel walked to the edge of the porch; his shoulders hiked to his ears and arms still raised as if he were approaching a wild bull. Serves him right to be scared of you. You may have let him get the best of you the first time around, but you wouldn’t let that happen again.

“Can y’put the damn gun down, darlin’?” He barked.

“Can y’take your ass back to your side of the pasture?” You tossed back.

The closer he got, the clearer his features became; the scruffy graying beard with small bare patches against his jawline, the worry lines deeply etched into his tan skin, and those damn brown eyes that plagued your thoughts night and day. You still thought about how soft they were when he looked at you before he left the stables, a kindness that flickered through the amber specks and filtered out that rage. It was truly unfair that such an insufferable man could be so damn handsome.

Joel’s boots knocked against the first step of the stairs, and your grip tightened around the shotgun. His eyes tracked your fingers as they flexed around the metal, your knuckles tense.

“I ain’t take you for the murderin’ type,” he said cooley.

“Reckon you don’t know much ‘bout me to be assumin’ that. Who knows, maybe I got myself a pile of bodies lyin’ in the grass behind my house.”

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he advanced another step, still testing the waters with you. You rocked back in your chair, propping the heel of your boot on the railing for stability.

“Wanna show me all them dead bodies then, darlin’? Prove that you’re not all bark and no bite?” He smirked.

You angled the shotgun past the side of his head and sent a shot flying out into the yard. Joel flinched hard enough to knock himself into the stair railing, his weight jostling the porch. With a coy grin, you lowered the gun an inch and shrugged your shoulders.

“Can’t show ya’ if you’re dead,” you grinned.

Joel lunged at you, ripping the gun from your hand and tossing it feet away from you. He gripped the back of your chair and drew his face closer, his pupils dilating the longer he glared at you. Rolling your tongue across your teeth, you raised your hand to his neck, drifting it up the scruff under his jaw. A shallow breath exhaled from his lips, and he stared at you in anticipation. Oh, he thought you were going to kiss him? Cute.

With a quick snap of your wrist, you smacked your hand across his cheek before shoving him out of your face. Joel barely moved an inch, your hands smacking into solid muscle that wouldn’t budge. All that softness in his eyes was displaced with an unmistakable sense of rage, his friendliness shattering away as his cheek flushed from the impact.

“Now y’done pissed me off, you fuckin’ brat,” Joel snarled.

His hand shot out to your throat, yanking you from your porch chair and to your feet. His grip was hardly as tight as last time but still forceful enough to render you powerless. Your eyes flickered toward the gun across the porch, so far out of reach and unattainable. You should have shot him when you had the chance.

“Be a good girl and invite me in,” Joel ordered, nodding toward your front door.

You wagged your head back and forth, your lips curled up and ready to spew venom. Joel only brought your face closer, his upper lip twitching under his mustache.

“Do it. Now. Or I swear to God, I’ll make last time look like a goddamn walk in the park.”

“Surprised y’got any sex drive left in you, old man,” you gasped, his fingers tightening around your neck.

“Christ, you fuckin’ infuriate me,” Joel grumbled.

He used his grip on your neck to propel your feet backward, guiding you toward your front door and over the threshold. The heel of your boot snagged on the lip of the door, sending you flailing back, only for him to grab you by the waist and yank you forward into his sturdy frame.

Even with his hand wrapped around your throat, Joel had never looked more gorgeous than he did at that moment. Swimming through the rage inside his eyes was a hint of worry, as if he genuinely thought you’d stumble to the ground. The reaction time of his arm circling your waist and the small exhale of breath off his lips, a quiet I got you in his own way.

The moment dwindled as fast as it came, a flickering flame extinguished somewhere between the threshold and the entryway of your tiny farm home. Joel reverted to his aggressive tendencies, manhandling you onto your worn-down floral sofa. The springs beneath the cushions squeaked under the weight of your bodies as he pinned you down, his face a breath apart from yours.

“You ready to play nice, darlin’? Or am I gonna have to ruin that pussy again just to shut you up?” He questioned.

Your hands grazed over his torso, tracing the outline of his soft stomach and over the buttons traveling up toward the collar of his shirt. You watched Joel’s eyes flutter closed for the briefest moment, only to fly wide open as you sunk your nails into the hair at the nape of his neck. You tugged hard on his salt and pepper hair, enough so that his neck strained back.

“Get the fuck off me, Joel,” you seethed, the words snarling out between your teeth.

“We both know that ain’t fuckin’ happenin’.”

Joel wrangled you over and onto your stomach, his hand still firmly clasped around your throat. He quickly caged your legs in between his muscular thighs, molding your body into the sofa cushions. Half your face was smothered into the dingy couch, your hair tossed in streaks over your eyes and clouding your vision. With his free hand, Joel cupped the curve of your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh that peaked out beneath the cut-off of the denim.

“Y’still got my handprints branded into your ass, darlin?” Joel asked.

He didn’t care to know the answer as he smacked his hand down, the bite of his skin against the fabric sending electric jolts of pain up your spine. Truth was, the bruises he left were still there—yellow, horrid welts that were a ceaseless reminder of last time. You wouldn’t ever admit it, but sometimes you found yourself in the mirror tracing the outline of his fingerprints, fantasizing about his hands on your body.

“Answer me,” Joel commanded.

“Fuck you,” you said, your voice muffled into the couch.

“Always gotta have an attitude, don’t you?”

Joel’s hand connected with your ass again, this time hard enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips. You could deny it all you wanted, but it was making you unbearably wet. You squirmed under his grip, finding some sort of relief within the friction of your shorts. Joel caught onto your movements and chuckled at your lost efforts.

“Got you all riled up, huh? This sweet lil’ pussy need takin’ care of?”

He cupped your sex through your jeans, the roughness of his hand spurring you on even more—stupid body for responding the way it did to this man. Joel pressed his fingers against the seam of the denim, finding your swollen clit hidden beneath. You exhaled loudly, your body sagging further into the cushions as he rubbed rough circles over the aching bundle of nerves.

“Right there, darlin’? That feel good for you?” Joel taunted.

“Mhmm,” you whined.

“You wanna cum for me?”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back the plea for release. Joel knew what he was doing; he knew you wouldn’t beg. You were too stubborn and too defiant to ever beg for it. At least, not again. But his fingers worked faster—harder—keeping you on the edge of ecstasy the longer you stayed silent.

“C’mon,” he urged. “Ask nicely, and I’ll let you cum.”

You turned your head into the sofa, burying your face into the cushions as you let out a frustrated cry. Fuck this man. Fuck his ability to turn you pliant and easy. Your body bucked against his hand as he worked at you in tantalizing movements, the friction of his palm against your sex becoming dizzying.

“Please,” you muttered, your voice muffled and quiet.

Joel’s hand unwound from your neck, taking its place within the tresses of your hair. A swift tug back, and your eyes strained to meet his as he loomed over you.

“I didn’t hear you,” he growled.

You swallowed thickly, trying to form another plea, but you couldn’t make a sound. Joel tugged on your hair harder, enough to make you cry at the pain. Your nails dug into the couch, and you managed a small please through a strangled moan.

“Too bad, darlin’. Bratty lil sluts don’t get to cum. I just wanted to hear y’beg for it.”

He released his grip on your head, shoving you back down. You groaned in frustration as his hand vanished from between your legs. The couch shifted beneath you as Joel rose to his feet, wandering around your living room and into your kitchen.

“Where’s your smokes?” He asked, rifling through the drawers as if he owned the place.

You lifted yourself, stretching your neck and detangling your hair with your fingers. Your clit painfully throbbed against your panties, your core still fluttering from the phantom orgasm that never came. Joel continued his search, slamming drawers shut and opening cupboards without a care in the world as if he didn’t just have you pinned down and begging for release. The temptation to run out and grab your gun was thrumming inside your veins; just one shot and you’d be free of him. Joel glanced up at the exact moment you shot to your feet, gunning for the door.

“Don’t even think about it, darlin’,” Joel warned.

“You expect me to let you roam ‘round my house uninvited?” You questioned.

“I expect you to be a good host and find me a damn cigarette,” he snapped.

“Well, they’re on my porch. So, if you’ll let me leave for a damn second, I can bring you one.”

Joel leaned against the kitchen counter, considering you with eyes narrowed. You folded your arms over your chest and stared at him, both of you in a silent showdown. With a lift of his chin, he motioned for you to go ahead and retrieve them. Disappearing out onto the porch, you scooped up your pack of reds and lighter, lingering an extra moment as you considered the gun lying on the ground.

“I’m waitin’!” He called from inside.

“Christ, I fuckin’ hate you,” you said, walking back into the house.

Joel had made himself all too comfortable on your couch, his legs spread open and arm lazily draped over the back cushion. You immediately noticed the bulge in his jeans, a telltale sign that he was just as worked up as you were. Tough fucking luck. If he wouldn’t get you off, you wouldn’t help him either.

“Y’ hate me, huh?” Joel asked, his lips curving into a smug grin.

You didn’t respond as you smacked the bottom of the cigarette carton against your palm. Joel flicked his fingers, urging you closer, yet you stayed planted to the ground.

“Gonna give me one of those, darlin’?”

“Why should I?” You huffed. “Y’come into my home uninvited and act like you own the damn place. Actin’ all demandin’ and rude.”

Joel let out a low whistle, rolling his neck back and forth. You continued smacking the carton, your lips set in a firm line.

“What’s rude is tryna kill someone who only came to talk. So, come here and sit.”

“And if I don’t wanna?”

“For one goddamn minute, can y’just not be so fuckin’ stubborn?” Joel huffed.

“Fine.”

You strode toward the couch, aiming to sit beside Joel, only to have him wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into his lap. Your thighs pressed against his as you settled into his body, the rugged muscles of his legs flexing beneath you. You were too close to him, too aware of the way his eyes sparkled with rich amber flecks in this nearness. Joel studied you without an ounce of anger as if none of what had happened between you ever existed. It made it terribly hard to continue hating him when he looked at you that way.

“Y’gonna be a good girl and give me a smoke now?” Joel asked.

Rolling your eyes, you removed a cigarette from the carton, offering it to him. Joel only shrugged, parting his lips ever so slightly to invite it into his awaiting mouth. Your fingers brushed against the scruff of his jaw as you placed it between his lips, his mouth quirked up in satisfaction.

“You trust me with a light?” You questioned.

Joel squeezed your waist softly, his other arm still thrown across the couch. You twirled the lighter between your fingers, your thumb rolling over the sparkwheel haphazardly. One good flick of the lighter, and you could send him up in flames—burn your whole house down with him inside, and you’d finally be at peace. He was a ceaseless man with little regard for you or your damn peace, and you were growing tired of entertaining him.

“Light it,” he ordered, the cigarette hanging between his teeth.

You sparked the flame, letting the heat of it ripple over your skin as you brought it to the butt of the cig. The tip ignited with a flicker of embers, the cherry end burning bright as Joel took a long drag. He lifted his hand from the couch—still keeping one firm on your body—and situated the cigarette between two fingers.

“Wanna tell me where y’learned to shoot like that?” He asked, his head tilted to the side.

“My parents. They taught me everything I know,” you admitted.

“Everythin’ aside from manners,” Joel countered.

“Shut up,” you snapped. “I ain’t gonna sit here and let you speak of my parents like that.”

You didn’t like talking about them; the reminder of their absence was sometimes too much to bear. You had so many responsibilities thrown onto your shoulders when they died, and although you took those responsibilities willingly, it didn’t quell the grief still lingering. You didn’t have your parents anymore, but you had their land to care for and their wishes to uphold.

Joel took a sharp inhale from the cigarette, letting the smoke plume between your faces. The stench of smoke was something comforting to you, always had been, but coming from his mouth, it pissed you off.

“Hey, now,” he said softly. “Was only kiddin’, darlin’. Didn’t mean to strike a nerve.”

“Your entire presence strikes a fuckin’ nerve, Joel. Why are y’even here?”

“Like I said, I came here to talk.”

You pulled the cigarette from his lips, taking it to your own and inhaling a long drag. Joel arched a brow, watching as you hollowed your cheeks around it, the flicker of the butt burning brightly in his face.

“Then talk,” you hissed, tilting your head to exhale the smoke.

You leaned back, discarding some of the ashes against the tray on your coffee table. Joel’s hand urged you back to his chest, pinning you closer than you wished to be. You adjusted yourself on his lap, absentmindedly, shifting your body over his hardened cock. Joel choked on a breath, his fingers digging into your waist. Oh. Funny how you had all the power now.

“Talk,” you repeated, grinding your body down against his again.

“I know what you’re doin’,” Joel grumbled.

“Y’gonna talk or what, Miller? I’m waitin’.”

Joel cursed under his breath, grabbing the cigarette from your fingers and returning it to his lips. His eyes never left yours as he drew in a breath, letting the smoke linger inside his mouth a second too long before exhaling. The smoke billowed around your face, and you scrunched your nose in annoyance.

“I wanna negotiate,” Joel offered.

“No.”

It was a quick response, one without a second thought. You wouldn’t even entertain the idea of negotiations. Why? Because there was nothing to fucking negotiate. This land was yours, passed down through generations, and would remain that way. No amount of bitching and moaning from Joel would make you reconsider.

“Y’didn’t even let me finish,” Joel remarked.

“I don’t need to listen to you. I ain’t negotiating my land.”

You reached for the cigarette again, yet Joel suspended it in the air and out of reach. You glared at him, trying to grab his hand to drag it toward you. Joel’s strength outweighed yours, and he had you beat every time you tried aiming for it again. Shoving at his chest, you moved to swing a leg over his lap and climb off, but he dragged you right back to his chest. His hand roamed up your side, curving along your hip and over the swell of your breast. Cupping your face with one large hang, Joel squeezed your cheeks together and forced your lips to part.

You struggled against his grip, your eyes full of rage as you watched him take another drag of the cigarette. With your mouth partially open, he leaned close and blew the smoke over your lips and into your mouth. The fragrant odor of the smoke licked up your nose as you inhaled, your lips inches away from his. You didn’t like it. You didn’t want him close. Joel’s eyes bounced between your eyes and lips, the temptation of drawing you closer palpable in his body language. The nicotine buzzed inside your head, and you pulled away from his face right at the same moment he leaned closer.

“Don’t,” you warned, smoke exhaling from your lips.

Joel dropped his hand from your face, a clear shift in his mood arising as you watched his eyes flicker with disappointment. It was all over his face: the furrow between his brows, the downturn of his lips… He wanted to kiss you. You wouldn’t let him, though; that was too much. If he wanted to manhandle you and fuck you however he pleased, that was fine. You welcomed it, actually, because you knew one taste of his mouth, and you’d be ruined. You didn’t want intimacy with Joel, not when your family’s land was hanging in the balance. He’d reel you in with false pretenses and have you aching for more, only to tear it all away.

He cursed under his breath as he pressed his body to yours, leaning forward to discard the cigarette into the ashtray. The bulge beneath his jeans prodded your sex at this angle, eliciting a ripple of pleasure up your spine. A small gasp bubbled out of you as Joel readjusted himself beneath you.

“You don’t wanna talk?” Joel asked, raising his voice. “Fine. Better not say a damn word unless it’s my name while I fuck you.”

In a millisecond, Joel had you pinned down to the couch again, your hair splayed around you and your breath whooshing from your lungs. His fingers worked at the zipper of your jeans, yanking them down your legs and discarding them over his shoulder. Propping a knee onto the couch, Joel undid his belt buckle and freed his cock from the confines of his jeans. Precum glistened on the tip, and he stroked himself slowly as he pulled your legs apart, molding you into the position he desired.

“Only wanna hear y’scream my name. Y’understand that?” He growled.

Joel coated the head of his cock with the slick covering your folds, pushing himself in with one deep thrust. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your body adjusted to his size. This angle was so much different than last time, and you could feel every vein and ridge of his cock rub against your fluttering walls. You focused on your breathing while he plunged deeper, breaking you open and fucking into you with hard thrusts.

Caressing the back of your knee, Joel drew your leg up and over his shoulder, bending you in half until he was spearing into your core.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

You shook your head, whimpering at the sensation of his cock splitting you in half. Searing pain bloomed across your face as Joel’s hand connected with your cheek. Your eyes shot open, tears welling on your waterline, the sting of the pain churning into a wave of pleasure through your core. You forgot how addictive his touch could be when he was angry. His pupils swallowed the entirety of his eyes, a dark, endless abyss staring straight back at you.

“Do. You. Understand?” He grunted between thrusts.

You didn’t respond, a tear slipping down your cheek. The phantom touch of his fingers on your skin lingered still, and your clit throbbed with a sudden flurry of arousal. Joel’s hand wrapped around your jaw, forcing your mouth open. He leaned down, pressing his weight into you as his face neared yours. A trail of spit fell off his tongue and crashed into the back of your throat, and you flinched away from Joel as he pressed harder.

“Swallow, brat.”

You struggled to swallow it; your throat constricted as his grip around your jaw tightened. He plowed into you, drilling your core with violent strokes until a gargled wail left your mouth. His spit slid down your throat, and he hummed in approval.

“Good girl.”

He stretched your other leg up and over his shoulder, your ass lifting off the couch. You wanted to beg him to stop, yet nothing would leave your lips. Not even a sound as the noise of his hips slapping against yours filled the air. The thrum of your heartbeat vibrated through your chest, the pressure inside your stomach growing stronger as you propelled closer to the edge of your orgasm. Every muscle in your body grew taut, your clit aching to be touched…aching for relief from the violent flames lapping at your spine. So close. It was so close you craved for more.

Maybe you didn’t want him to stop.

“If you ain’t gonna listen to me in a normal conversation, then you’re gonna listen now,” he gritted.

You flexed your jaw under his hand, trying to shy away from his piercing stare. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to listen… didn’t want anything but the opportunity to seek release. You could handle the pain—you welcomed it. The harder he fucked you, the less you had to think. And if you kept thinking, you’d drown in the consequences of your doubt. Keep him angry, you thought. Keep him the enemy. You couldn’t let him be anything more.

“I don’t want your land,” Joel punched out through clenched teeth. “Keep it. I don’t give a shit.”

The buzzing inside your skin dulled out at his words. It was so hard to focus on what he was saying when your mind was melting from the inside out, his cock driving into you with brutal speed. He didn’t want…

“What?” You choked out.

Joel’s hand clamped down on your mouth, muffling your words as he bottomed out and kept himself seated inside you. The rhythm of his thrusts stopped, and he let his hips press into yours as he stared down at your tearful face. You were so fucking full of him you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen,” he snapped.

You muffled out his name, the sound slipping through the space between his fingers. He only pressed harder, your body folded in half beneath his weight. You clenched around his cock, rocking your hips slightly to quell the need curling inside your stomach.

“I ain’t gonna take your land from you, ‘kay? All I’m askin’ for is permission to come ‘round without you tryna kill me.”

No. The word was lost inside the palm of his hand. You wanted your land, and you wanted Joel gone. You didn’t trust him when he said he didn’t want your land. How could you trust him when he had you pinned to the sofa?

“This is what’s gonna happen,” Joel offered, snaking a free hand down between your legs. “You’re gonna agree with me and let me come and go as I please. Then maybe I’ll let you cum.”

Calloused fingers circled your clit, forcing a cry from your mouth. Tantalizing, slow draws over your sensitive bud pulled desperate sounds out of you, each one of them stifled against his warm hand. Joel worked himself into shallow thrusts, pulling out to the tip and driving right back into you. You couldn’t fend off the orgasm bubbling under the surface, the nerves inside you lighting on fire.

“Please!” You screamed between his fingers.

Joel’s lips twisted into a sneer, beads of sweat rolling down his temples as he pressed his fingers harder against your clit. Your eyes glossed over with fresh tears as you fought off the impending release rolling through your body.

“Say it.”

Your back arched off the couch as you chased the strokes of Joel’s fingers. Circling and circling… You were so close to the threshold of ecstasy, and you knew he’d tear it away from you if you didn’t relent.

Joel ripped his hand from your mouth, tangling in the hair at the crown of your head. He forced your eyes down to where your bodies connected, your focus on his cock as it disappeared inside you.

“Y’wanna cum on my cock, darlin’?” Joel taunted.

“Fuck! Please, Joel!” You gasped.

With your chin tucked into your chest, your legs dangling over his shoulders, and his cock spearing into your core… you couldn’t hold back your orgasm any longer.

“Say it!” Joel commanded.

“Okay!” You sobbed. “Just let me cum, Joel! Please!”

Joel assaulted you with a repetition of thrusts, each stronger than the last, until your orgasm exploded through your body. His name tore from your lips as your back curved off the couch and your legs squeezed around his neck. He kept his thumb circling your clit, your orgasm never ceasing to end as the inferno burned inside your core. Wet, hot arousal gushed out of you, splattering onto Joel’s navel and staining his denim shirt. His eyes flicked up to yours, a wicked grin splitting his face.

“Look at the mess you’re makin’. Just drenchin’ my fuckin’ cock.”

“Joel!” You whined, squirming against his hand.

“Nuh uh, darlin’. Wanna see how messy y’can get. Keep goin’.”

He released his grip on your hair, forcing your head to fall against the arm of the sofa. Shuffling his knees forward, Joel continued his brutal thrusts until your arousal sprayed around his cock and dripped down the seam of your ass. There wasn’t enough air in your lungs as you alternated between screaming his name and begging him to stop.

“Since y’wanted to cum so goddamn bad, you’re gonna keep takin’ my fuckin’ cock ‘til you ruin this damn couch,” Joel grunted.

You were crying… hard. Your mind was on the precipice of hysteria as waves of your orgasm bolted through your veins. Lewd sounds of his body slapping against your wetness echoed through the room, the cushion beneath you soaked from your arousal. You attempted to claw yourself backward and away from Joel, but his grip was violent, and he only yanked you closer.

“I can’t—I can’t anymore!” you sobbed. “Please, Joel…please.”

“Gimmie one more,” he demanded.

You shook your head in protest, your sobs hiccuping inside your chest. Your core was too fucked out, your clit was painfully sensitive, and you were sitting in a pool of your arousal. How did Joel manage to turn the events of the day around in his favor? You had control at the start—you had the gun— but now he had you folded in half and strewn out in a heap of tears.

“I can’t!” You wailed. “Too much—too much…”

“Poor thing,” Joel taunted. “Always beggin’ for it but can’t take it.”

You writhed beneath him, your body twisting and bending to alleviate the painful sensations rolling through your nerve endings. This was it; this was how you died. Drunk on pleasure and torn apart by the man you wanted to hate.

Another orgasm tore through your body, consuming you from the inside out. Your scream pierced through the air, and you collapsed into the cushions, soaked with sweat and tears. Joel made a strangled noise above you as your sex clamped down around his cock, no doubt pulsating harder than it had the last several orgasms. His cock slipped from inside you, leaving you hollow and aching to be filled again. Your body craved the fullness, yet you sagged with relief knowing he stopped.

“C’mere,” Joel grunted.

He slung your legs off his shoulders and yanked you down the couch by your ankle. Positioned over your face, Joel stroked his cock above you, his fingers glistening from the arousal that stuck to his velvety skin.

“Open that fuckin’ mouth, darlin',” Joel urged.

Your head was so hazy you hardly registered his words. Parting your lips, you whined softly and stared at him…waiting. Joel’s eyes connected with yours, that deep furrow in his brow more prominent than before. Rage still sparked behind his eyes, but in your delirium, you saw more. You saw right past his facade, just as he saw right past yours. Whatever terror etched itself into your features, it caught his attention, but he was painting your lips and face with his release before he could decipher it. Hot ropes of cum spattered against your lips, the salty taste covering your tongue as it trailed into your mouth. Remnants of his release coated your chin and neck, warm reminders of his futile efforts at staking his claim.

He hadn’t claimed you, no matter how hard he fucked you. You wouldn’t let him claim you. And you most certainly wouldn’t let him claim your land.

Joel slid his finger through the mess along your neck, scooping his cum onto the pad of his finger and dragging it across your lips.

“So fuckin’ pretty all covered in my cum,” he praised.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, though your words meant shit, as you rolled your tongue over your bottom lip.

Joel gave you a soft grin, smoothing down your hair and cleaning the mess off your face with one hand. The same hand that had inflicted pain just moments ago, the hand that brought you to release more times than you could physically endure.

But now the touch was soft—caring, even. And that frightened you more than the violence he showed when he was provoked. It was this side of Joel that made you scared, and you wanted to run as far from it as you could.

“Let’s get you up, darlin’,” Joel said, hoisting you by the shoulders until you sat under his shadow.

He massaged your legs as you swung them over the couch, attempting to relieve the tension within your muscles. You shrunk away, standing on unbalanced limbs, and distanced yourself from his wandering hands.

“I need a shower,” you decided. “Y’can see yourself out.”

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you.”

“Well, I’m done fuckin’ talking!” You argued.

You spun on your heel, your hands clenched at your sides. Joel’s eyes stayed focused on you as he worked at stuffing his cock back into his jeans. Half-naked before him, you felt a million times smaller than you had when he arrived.

“Why are you so hateful?” He questioned, rising to his feet.

Your lips curled up, a slew of spiteful words dancing on the tip of your tongue. But Joel wasn’t finished.

“This is your land,” he said, stepping closer. “I ain’t gonna argue that anymore ‘cause it’s a lost cause. And I ain’t tryna steal it from you. I can promise you that.” Another step closer. “So, why do y’hate the idea of me comin’ around?”

“Because I hate you,” you responded.

“You hate me, huh? Is that how y’feel ‘bout me when I’m pullin’ orgasms from your body? ‘Cause I think you fuckin’ love it. You love bein’ fucked by me. You get me all riled up ‘cause y’know what’s comin’ for you.”

“I hate you,” you repeated.

Joel lifted his hand to your face, cupping your cheek with a featherlike touch. You wanted to shy away, but you were too tired to move.

“I don’t think y’hate me at all, darlin’,” he whispered.

He leaned closer, placing a kiss on your forehead. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding off another round of tears brimming over the surface. Pushing your hands against his chest, you shoved Joel away, your body staggering back with the force of your action.

“Get the hell outta my house,” you cried, no longer keeping the tears at bay.

Joel stared at you with a pained expression, his eyes searching through your glassy eyes for the falter within your words. He didn’t budge; he didn’t move an inch. You shoved at his chest again, but it was no use as he wrangled you into his arms and lifted your chin to meet his eyes.

“When are you gonna quit fightin’ me?” He asked softly.

It was a sincere question; you saw it swimming behind the rich chocolate of his irises. Pleading. Begging. He wanted the truth, but you wouldn’t give in. You couldn’t.

“I’ll quit fightin’ when y’learn to leave me alone.”

“What if I don’t wanna?”

He was a breath away from your lips, the rich scent of farmland wafting off his skin as it mixed with the smell of sex. It was intoxicating being this close—close enough to wonder what his lips would feel like on yours. While your body ached for him in one way, your heart ached differently. It was an ache you wanted to keep fighting because the moment you lost that battle, you’d lose everything.

“I don’t want you comin’ here anymore, Joel.”

“Why?” he pressed.

Silence blanketed over you, weighing down the words lodged in your throat. The rapid beating of your heart matched his as he kept you tight to his chest. You were suffocated by the emotions you couldn’t say, and you were slowly sinking further down.

You struggled against the arm that bound around your waist, helplessly trying to break free of his hold. He finally relented in defeat, letting you shuffle back until there was a healthy gap between your bodies. Running a hand down the scruff on his chin, Joel gave you a simple nod and retreated toward the front door.

“Until you can give me a reason, I’m gonna keep comin’ back.”

He left without a glance over his shoulder, the room around you shrinking in size without his presence looming over you. Searching for your shorts, you quickly dressed and hid behind the window curtains as you watched his truck rumble to life and speed down the dirt roads. There was no goodbye between you, and you knew there wouldn’t be. Joel wasn’t giving up, no matter how hard you pushed him away, and eventually, he’d win.

And you hated knowing the truth.

Behind the billowing dirt trail of his truck, Joel watched as your house faded from view. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel as he thought about the way he left. He was doing this for fun; at least, that’s what it felt like at the start. Getting on your nerves, pissing you off, seeing you completely unraveled underneath his hands, Joel loved it. He loved the thrill of having you tamed down and quiet, compliant to anything he asked and did.

Then he had you pinned underneath him, and he saw the fear in your eyes. You weren’t scared of him. You were scared of the emotions electrifying between the both of you. Then you pulled away from him, denying him any affection, and he fucking hated it.

He couldn’t understand why you got under his skin the way you did, nor why he cared so much. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way, yet Joel wanted to keep tearing down your walls. He wanted to hear you tell him the truth.

He wasn’t going to stop until he got it.

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