#✏️ game

[milla-frenchy]

Movie night

0k9 | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: you and Joel go to the movies, but the screening doesn't go as planned Warnings: 18+ mdni. Exhibitionism, public sex, oral (f receiving) No age specified a/n: thank you @iamasaddie for this writing game challenge, based on your random three-pic mood board. It was so fun 💛 Thank you @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for correcting me 💕🫶

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ao3 | masterlist

When you and Joel arrive at the movie theater, the lights are already off and the movie is playing. You sneak through the top row, reaching the end of it, with no one near you. You had insisted on stopping by the ice cream and popcorn stand before entering the movie room, and Joel hadn't been able to say no to you, even though he hated missing the beginning.

You are finally seated, eyes fixed on the screen. Joel with his popcorn, you with your ice cream.

“Let me taste it,” he whispers. You try to tell him no playfully, but you can never resist his smile and dimples. He licks the ice cream then hands it to you, but your hands cross, collide, and the ice cream falls on your bare thighs that your skirt barely covers.

“Joel!!!” You try to whisper, as you stare at your thighs, eyes wide.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart!” His soft, brown eyes are fixed on you at first, then he hurries to retrieve the scoop of ice cream and the cone, and puts them in his tub of popcorn.

“What am I gonna-”

You suddenly stop whispering, when you see him kneel in front of you, grabbing your skirt and encouraging you to lift your ass slightly to free yourself from your skirt and pushing it up to your waist. You look at the rows around you but no one is paying attention to the two of you. He licks your thigh, running his tongue flat to collect as much ice cream as possible. Where the treat is sticky, he lingers his mouth and sucks your skin to remove it.

“Joel!” you whisper again, but he doesn’t listen, or doesn’t care. His mouth travels over your thighs and follows the ice cream flowing down between your legs, continuing to clean your skin. You now run your hands through his brown curls.

Suddenly, he grabs your hips and pulls you forward, spreading your thighs further. You put your hand over your mouth, just managing to stop yourself from screaming. When he lifts his head towards you, you see that his gentle gaze has given way to his dark one, and you know he won’t stop. 

Again, he pulls on your hips and brings your ass closer to the edge of the seat. He laps up a few traces of ice cream that remain between your thighs, slowly, then goes back to your panties little by little. You glance around the room again, but the few people there are focused on the movie. You bite back a moan when he runs his tongue along your slit covered by your panties. His hands tighten on your thighs, as if to tell you that there’s no point in trying to stop him. He licks the fabric several times, and although you don't hear him growl over the sounds of the movie, you feel his growl against your flesh through the fabric.

He only releases your thighs when his hands come to grab the band of your panties, and he slides them down your legs, then your ankles, and finally your feet.

Your eyes are fixed on him, this time without trying to stop him. He turns to the screen, then quickly back to you and murmures “watch the movie, baby.”

He plunges into you, his tongue digging into your wet pussy, collecting all the moisture that leaks out. His beard rubs against the tender skin of your thighs, while his tongue now licks flat against your folds. Your hands rest on his head, as if now you wanted to prevent him from stopping licking you. But you know deep down that he won't stop. Not until he gets what he wants. Your eyes are fixed on the screen.

He buries two of his fingers in your pussy, while his lips surround your clit, sucking on it delicately before giving way to the tip of his tongue circling around and over it. He picks up the pace of his fingers, now fucking you quickly with them, and you're not sure if you can hold back your moans for long. But you don't take your eyes off the screen, afraid that someone might have noticed you.

You feel the orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, then growing, before exploding, your hands clenching his scalp. Yet, he doesn't release you right away, coming again to lick up all the wetness that has flowed out, ready to reach the seat. 

Once satisfied, he pulls away from you, his mustache and beard glistening with your slick. He wipes himself with the back of his hand and smiles at you, then puts your panties back on and pulls down your skirt. 

When he sits down next to you, his gaze hardens as he sees a man approaching. It’s another spectator, who has been apparently watching you, grabbing his bulge as if he wants you to blow him.

“The fuck are you doing? I let you look. Now piss off!”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you realize that the man was watching you, and that Joel knew, and let it happen.

“It’s ok baby, he’s gone. Let’s watch the movie.”

You look at the screen, where a woman is now giving a man a blowjob, while another one fucks her from behind. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel licking his fingers, and you smile.

***************

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[guiltyasdave]

nights are so starry, blood moonlit

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~1.4k

summary: Javi and you are neighbors. And friends with benefits, in a way. Things become… heated.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), smoking, mention of alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Javi pulls reader’s hair, dom!Javi, sub!reader, unprotected p in v (it’s never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), rough sex, dirty talk, Javi is a menace, a hint of angst and feelings because it’s me and if they’re not fucking while denying their feelings it’s not my fic okay

a/n: written for @iamasaddie’s moodboard writing challenge that was SO fun, thank you aly <3 this literally poured out of me, i wish writing would always feel like this 🫠

beautiful moodboards by @hellishjoel 🫶🏻

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates!

It’s the hottest day since you moved to Colombia, and probably the hottest that you’ve ever felt in your life. Sweat is all over your skin, pooling on your spine at the small of your back and making your dress stick to your damp body.

You groan as you open the door to your flat, the still air inside the small space somehow even more suffocating than you felt outside. You kick off your shoes and walk over to the fridge, letting the coolness wash over you for a few seconds while you just stand in front of the open door, your eyes almost slipping closed at the sudden reprieve from the sweltering heat. With a sigh you eventually grab a water and reluctantly shut the door again, pressing the cold bottle against your neck as you step out onto your tiny excuse of a balcony, hoping to catch at least the smallest bit of a breeze.

It’s just as hot outside and you flop down on the single plastic chair that you have and fumble for a cigarette, when you notice your neighbor on the balcony next to you. Javi looks as gorgeous as always, as you begrudgingly have to admit to yourself. While you’re sure that you look like you’re on the verge of a heat stroke, his shirt clings to his body in a way that makes your mouth run dry. As always he has one too many buttons undone and the perspiration on his chest has you dreaming of licking the sweat off his skin. He catches your stare and quirks an eyebrow at you, an amused smirk playing around his lip.

“You’re home early,” he drawls, leaning back against the railing.

“So are you,” you note, raising an eyebrow in return. “Slow day at the office?”

He closes his eyes for a moment. “Quite the opposite.” His scowl makes it clear that he doesn’t want any follow up questions and you shrug, busying yourself with unscrewing your water bottle instead.

A moment of silence passes between you before he raises his voice again.

“You free tonight?”

It’s a question that you’ve heard many times before, or some variation of it. You’re not a thing, Javi and you, not really. It’s just nice, to have a little company sometimes, in a city where, after months of staying here, you still feel like you barely know anyone. It’s fun. Stress relief. No strings attached.

You want to protest at first, thinking about how it’s about a thousand degrees, how you already feel the sweat on your skin again and you’re not even moving. But then you picture another lonely evening in your apartment, another bottle of wine drank in solitude while watching some crap on your small TV.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, mirroring his smirk from earlier.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Now you’re bent over the back of his couch, his cock roughly pounding into you as your skin feels sticky against the leather, moans falling from your lips with every thrust.

His fingers are digging into your hips and he’s pulling you against his body relentlessly, the intensity of his thrusts never faltering. His lips had been on yours as soon as he pulled his door open, pressing you against the wall and hands grabbing at your ass beneath your dress. You had basically thrown yourself at him, the rough way he handled your body only adding to the fire that was already burning through your veins and had wetness pooling between your legs.

He had skimmed over your underwear with his fingers and pulled back when your hips bucked against his touch, a chuckle rumbling in his throat.

“Missed me that much?” he had grinned in that smug way of his that made you want to roll your eyes.

“No,” you had grumbled, somewhat unconvincingly, threading your fingers through the dark hair at his neck and slotting your lips over his again, the coarse hair of his mustache scratching against your face and his tongue in your mouth until all that mattered to you was feeling him closer, feeling all of him.

He had taken you right there, with your panties pushed to the side and the neckline of your dress pulled down to reveal your tits to him. He had mouthed at the sensitive flesh while his cock plunged into your pussy, stretching your walls, making you whimper at all the sensations that washed over your body.

You were close to the edge when his movements slowed down, his breathless pants hitting your damp and heated skin. Your eyes had widened in mild surprise, taking in his flushed features, his hair turned into a sweaty mess by your hands.

“Need a break?” you had teased. “You’re losing your touch, Peña.”

You could almost see the way his eyes turned darker and his features hardened before he slid out of you and yanked you away from the wall, walking you into his living room.

That’s how you ended up where you are now, his cock hitting you from behind, reaching so deep inside of you that every thrust makes you see stars behind your eyelids.

“Fuck! Javi, please,” you manage to whine as your breath is repeatedly punched out of your lungs. You can already feel your orgasm, it’s so close, you can almost taste it on your tongue, a band waiting to snap.

“Losing my touch, huh?” he growls from behind you, reaching up to grab a fist of your hair, pulling you upwards while his other hand finds your tit again and pinches your nipple. His grunts in your ear drive you insane with want for him.

“N-no, I’m sorry, fuck-”

The different angle and the quick shot of pain from your breast set your body on fire and you clamp down hard around him as your orgasm breaks free and waves of pleasure crash over you. You think that you’re shaking in his hold, babbling an incoherent string of thank yous and his name while he fucks you through your high, never relenting in his thrusts, even when your orgasm subsides and you’re twitching away from the overstimulation.

“You’re gonna give me another one,” he demands, losing the grip on your hair and pushing your body forward again.

“Javi, I can’t, please,” you try to protest, but he sneaks a hand between your legs, slides through the slippery wetness and finds a home on your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive spot. A shudder runs through you at the sensation.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, his tone making it abundantly clear that he already knows the answer.

“N-no,” you admit, your hips pushing back against his again, your body desperate for more.

“Then quit your whining and do as I said.” His voice is raspy; you know him well enough, have fucked him often enough to know that he’s close. His fingers on your clit speed up. “Give me another one.”

Before Javi, you wouldn’t have thought it possible to come that quickly twice in a row, but you’ve accepted some time ago that he has a power over your body that you’ll never understand.

It feels like only seconds until the sensation of his cock dragging through your pussy and his fingers on your clit build up again and bring you to your peak once more. You pulse around him, hoarse moans leaving your mouth while his hips still and he spills himself deep inside of you, his moans mixing with yours.

He pulls out gently and helps you into a standing position, leading you to sit on his couch and cleaning you up quickly.

You never linger after your visits to his place, always quick to slip back over to yours. It’s too much intimacy, too raw, just- too much.

It’s what you do now, heaving a sigh as you lean back against your closed door. You splash water on your face, trying to cool your body down. You’re gonna need another shower, feeling like you’re drenched in sweat, but first, another cigarette.

When you step out onto your balcony for the second time that day, Javi is already there on his side, still shirtless, blowing smoke into the dark night. You sit down on your chair and prop your feet up on the railing, the one that he’s leaning his back against, eyeing you.

Neither of you talk, but it’s nice, you think, not being so alone.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment, it always makes my day <3

[toxicanonymity]

No good 🥀 (the raid drabble)

750 words, dark!Javi x f!reader | the raid I8+, angst (javi is the worst), smut, captivity. Ty Aly!! 🖤🫶 @iamasaddie

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Javi gets home late, unbuttoning his shirt on his way in. He takes it off and throws it in the laundry before approaching. When he uncuffs you, there's a waft of unfamiliar perfume that makes your heart drop. It's an awful feeling that he'll fuck anyone but you. There are moments you feel worthless and unworthy. Why did he take you if he was going to be like this? He says one day he’ll do it, but if he really wanted to, it's hard to understand all his restraint. It's a foreign concept to you. You try not to cry, but can't help it. Javi showers, and when the water turns off, you try to dry your eyes. He puts on sleep shorts and joins you in bed, spooning you. He cups your breast and his voice is low with lust. “I thought about you. . .mi putita” (my little slut). He nuzzles his nose against the nape of your neck, then adds, quieter, “favorita” (my favorite little slut).

You sniffle, and he turns on a dim bedside lamp. He pulls you onto your back. He props his head up in one hand and leans with his chest against you. He brushes a tear off your cheek and his brow furrows. His voice is soothing: “It's okay.” You're grateful he doesn't ask what's wrong. “I'm proud of you, sweetheart. You're doing great.” Your heart flutters.

He backs up and takes the covers off you. Then he gets between your legs and puts them over his shoulders. He gets close enough to feel his breath on your cunt, then he plants a kiss on your most sensitive place. You let out a soft moan. You're aching to have him.

He looks up at you, and the little cross on his gold chain swings forward, hitting your clit. You flinch at the contact of metal.

“Already?” He asks, then dips his head again. “So needy,” he murmurs to your cunt. He licks a wide stripe from your taint to the apex of your folds, then flicks his tongue. He stops, licks your clit slower, then seals his lips and sucks. He laps at your dripping seam again before returning his attention to your clit. You whine, “mmm” and your hips lift into his mouth. His mustache brushes your skin. He teases your entrance with his tongue, then it plunges into you.

He rubs your clit with his nose as he fucks you with his tongue. You twitch around him and he moans, “Mmm.” The vibration of his voice makes the tension swell deep in your belly. You whimper, and he moves his mouth back to your clit, replacing his thumb but leaving his right hand to rest on your mound and lower belly.

He lifts his face only to bring his left hand to your pussy and run two fingers through your folds. He watches you darkly and reaches for your breast as he nudges your wet hole then pushes in a finger, followed by a second. His mouth returns to kiss your pussy, with tongue, as his fingers move at an accelerating pace. His right palm lightly squeezes your breast

You're already teetering on the edge of bliss when his thick digits nudge that spot inside you. You whine and moan as you surrender to the climax. Your walls clench pitifully around nothing. He laps up your arousal, then rests his head on your inner thigh for a moment, watching you. When you finish, he lifts his head and smoothes his mustache. He crawls up the bed, and you turn onto your side.

“Thanks,” you mumble, and it feels pathetic.

He settles in behind you, and his dick is hard. You ache so badly for it, and you’re so hurt, you can't help but sniffle.

“It's okay,” he says, barely above a whisper.

You can't stop yourself from arguing. “I'm not your favorite. You would use your favorite.”

He’s silent for a few moments, then calmly asks, “are you asking me to use you?”

Your face heats up. You can't exactly say no, so you go for it. “Yeah.”

“Aww, pobrecita (poor little girl). . .have some self respect, baby.”

He pushes his hard dick against you, then lifts his head to press his lips against your temple for a moment before settling back in with a hand on your tit.

You mutter, “I dunno how you can go to sleep like that.” He starts to pull his hand away from your breast, but you stop him with your hand on his wrist.

“Some people have self control,” he answers. “You will too, someday.”

-------

Ty for reading!

the raid tag list @ashjohnson47

[bonezone44]

'Doesn't Nothing Ever Last Forever?' (18+)

Raider!Joel x afab!Reader

Word Count: 5,4k

(FYI: woman in moodboard is a side character.)

Summary: You worked in a brothel outside of a quarantine zone. Every once in a while, you got a visit from Joel and his men. This was your first time being around for one of those visits. (Reader is severely depressed and bisexual [relatable, amiright?]. Reader is not popular at the brothel.)

tags: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT (tagging this to be safe!) Kidnapping, sexual slavery, group sex, overstimulation, rough oral (m). POV switching, canon-typical violence. -- Sex between Reader and Joel is non-con. Reader enjoys it, but the larger context doesn't allow for consent. Fingering, unprotected p-in-v. Degradation. Finger-sucking. Spanking. Orgasm control/denial. Joel is turned on by Reader's history w/ women. Reader is called slut, good girl, bad girl. Reader calls Joel "sir."

A/N: Written for @iamasaddie's writing challenge. ✏ I was so excited by their moodboards, I had to participate. Also, read @toxicanonymity for the original Raider!Joel which heavily inspired this one. 🙏 And special thanks to @milla-frenchy for helping me choose a story line. 😘

story masterlist - main masterlist

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The days bled together, one right after the other. No matter how clear the skies were, a permanent fog had taken over your mind. 

The only reason you woke up that evening was all the commotion. You heard the roar of diesel engines and loud men laughing and yelling. The slamming of car doors. Then those voices got louder and closer. Obviously, they had made their way inside your building. You knew you should rise and shine. Get to work. But you stayed curled up on your bed cushion in the shared room as long as possible. Even after your boss had been calling for you.

It wasn’t the kind of job you punched in and out of. You lived in a brothel. You were paid by the client–and even then sometimes all you got was a spare coin or two. A ration slip, if you were really lucky. But those could only be spent at the nearby Quarantine Zone. And the four hour trek there and back was hell on your feet and knees.

Your boss, Larry, finally opened the door to your room, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he allowed the noise and chaos to do the job of waking you up.

You unfurled from the floor and wandered to the bathrooms, bare fit sticking to the tile floors. You had hoped no one would catch you and make you work. You hadn’t had it in you to do anything that day. What you really wanted to do was float away, fly with the clouds on the wind to somewhere far, far over the rainbow.

You found Trisha at the sinks, under the sickly green lights, already washing cum from her hands. 

“Joel and his crew are here again,” she mumbled. There was a tremor in her voice.

You nodded blankly. Tired.

She turned around and stared at you with wide eyes. “Joel,” she emphasized.

“Okay?” You shrugged. Your eyes bored into a growing mold stain in the corner.  

She scoffed. “Joel is the guy who bought Carrie.”

“What?” … ‘Bought Carrie?’ That didn’t sound right to you. “I just thought… she left.”

Trisha stared at you, aghast. The room was cold, but steam began to fog the mirror. “Are you fucking kidding me? You were there!” She shouted. “You were there when Larry told us he sold her for the fucking water heater!” She pointed at the filling sink.

You blinked. “...Oh.” You wiped your eyes with your hands. “I don’t… really remember.” Her words didn’t quite click it into place for you, but a dull memory played in the back of your mind. You remembered a ‘house meeting’ and hearing Carrie’s name a lot. You remembered getting the water heater. You remembered everyone being upset and yelling at Larry. You remembered curling in the corner, your brain checking out and wandering through the static of your own mind rather than feeling something–anything–in your own body.

That explained all the weird looks you had gotten later when you expressed excitement over the hot water. You had been happy about something for once and everyone responded by staring at you like you were a freak. 

But everyone you had ever met always felt so far away. Like you were so deep in the depths of your own mind that the world around you was a movie you were watching. All the people in your life were characters playing out their roles. So you did, too. You went through the daily motions, following some imaginary script in your mind. Playing a part. Doing whatever you thought you were supposed to.

Trisha started telling you more stories about Joel and his crew. About their violence. But none of it sounded real. It sounded like another movie to you. You stood, unmoving, wishing you had some bleach to clean the mold in the corner. You wanted to scrub the grout until it was pure again. Wipe away the layer of filmy mildew from the ceramic tiles. Disinfect every inch of porcelain in this piece of shit building. 

Another woman entered the bathroom, fully nude. “Well, look who decided to show up!” she spat at you. “Go out there and do your job. I need a fucking break.”

You sighed and resigned yourself to your fate. “Okay,” you muttered without meeting her eyes. You didn’t bother looking in the mirror or worrying about your clothes. You knew that in your line of work, they didn’t make a difference either way.

-

You walked out to the main room and saw about a dozen men scattered around the couches, women in their laps or on their knees. 

One woman was sitting naked in a guy’s lap while another guy roughly rubbed and slapped her clit. His laughter grossed you out. The woman was crying.  

Another woman was getting facefucked and choking. She pulled back to cough and breathe. The man she was sucking on held himself in a tight grip. He pushed the hair from her face and whispered softly to her, wiping away her tears, before shoving his cock right back in.

You nodded at the scene unaffected… well, mostly unaffected. You stared into the middle distance and focused on no one person in particular. The women’s moans were mostly performative–it was obvious. But the men didn’t seem to mind. Their moans were hungry and horny, enjoying whatever stimulation they seemed to be receiving. So that was what you focused on. Their blatant sexual desire. It fueled your own heat. A fire expanding in your chest and between your legs. Your mouth began to water. You sucked in your bottom lip, eager to feel flesh inside you. 

You weren’t sure how long you were standing there, watching. It merely occurred to you at some point that one of the men was walking up to you, blocking your view of the scene. He wore a dark brown leather jacket over a v-neck shirt.  A small, shiny gold cross hung around his neck and against his sunburned skin. He wore blue jeans and work boots.

Your boss, Larry, yammered in one of your ears at him.

“Joel,” he pleaded with clasped hands. “I’m sure you’d prefer someone like Trisha or-or-or Cameron. I’m sure, she’ll be right back out any minute!”

“No,” Joel says gruffly. “Her,” he pointed to you with his chin. 

“I’m sure. I’m sure.” Your boss chuckled uncomfortably and surrendered with empty palms. “Of course!” He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you toward the back of the building. He snarled in your ear. “Don’t fuck this up for me.” 

You wanted to shrug him off, but his grip was bruising. What could you ‘fuck up’ exactly? You had been working there for over a year. You weren’t popular, but you got the job done. You didn’t get along with any of the other women there, but what did that have to do with this guy, Joel?

Larry took you and Joel to one of the farthest rooms. It was the nice one with a real bed instead of a mattress or cushion on the floor. You had never been in it before. Not even to clean it. You looked around appraising the paint on the walls. There was a window, but it was dark out. The noise from the main room was barely audible. You liked being somewhere quiet again. 

#######

Joel and his crew pulled up around dinnertime in two pick-up trucks. The sun had set and the truck’s headlights bathed the front of the old office building in a warm, dull yellow.

The crickets were louder than hell that night. Joel remembered that much.

Not five seconds after his boys hopped out the trucks did the brothel owner come skittering out the front door with a nervous grin on his face.

Joel liked that. Piece o’ shit like that should be nervous. 

Joel hated Larry. The man was fucking pathetic. Weasel-y. So needy and desperate to please. Joel hated that Larry sold him a woman for a water heater. What kinda man would do something like that? This was supposed to be a brothel. The women were supposed to be his employees. He didn’t have the right to sell anybody.

But Joel had wanted her. And taking her outright would have caused more problems than it would have solved. So he figured a water heater would help keep things peaceful between them. Because his boys liked the brothel. Each little trip helped ease their minds. Gave them something to talk about and look forward to–something other than survival.

Joel’s needs were more permanent. He needed something more full-time rather than once every few months.

His boys started hooting and hollering as soon as the payment of supplies were unloaded and they got to hang out inside. The women weren’t even around yet, but they were more than ready for some physical entertainment. Joel remained standing while the rest of them spread out along the decaying leather couches lining the walls. A shitty little cd player sat in the corner playing old R&B music. He heard his brother, Tommy, singing along to it. 

Joel sighed and wiped his face with his hands.

Once Larry brought out a few women, the men started roaring. They were shouting and cheering, pulling their cocks out in excitement. Joel groaned. These boys didn’t know a goddamn thing about seducing a woman and their sad little dicks weren’t gonna get them anywhere neither.

Two of the guys grabbed one of the women, causing her to shout, but Joel was on them not a second later. He gripped their skulls, one in each of his giant hands, and knocked them together like coconut shells. 

“Ouch! What the hell, man?” asked one of them, rubbing the sore spot on his head. 

Joel shook his head with his eyes wide, boring into the depths of their souls. “Not until I say,” he spat.

They both tucked their heads under, murmuring. “Yes, Joel.” “Whatever you say, Joel.”

The woman got back in line while the boys sat down on the couch.

“I’m sure I’ve got a couple more on the way,” said Larry with a forced smile. “They’re just getting themselves cleaned up, I’m sure, after uh…  after finishing dinner.”

Joel grunted. He knew what he wanted–knew what kind of woman he was looking for. And he was quick to realize that none of the women in the room were it. So he waved his hand and his men let loose.

Joel stood with his arms crossed and his back against the front door. He kept his eye on the two troublemakers. Kept his ear on Tommy. Tommy was a talker. He loved to chat up the working women as if he was in a bar back home in Texas and looking to find himself a girlfriend. Joel thought Tommy was being ridiculous—acting like the women could say ‘no’ and walk away. Like he had to put real effort in. It annoyed the hell out of Joel. He wanted his crew to have their fun and be done with it. Why did Tommy have to make it so complicated?

Joel was getting bored and antsy the longer he waited. He was feeling needy, too, with the rough sounds of sex filling the air around him. But he was hopeful, preferring to be patient. And if, in the end, there was no woman he wanted, he would pick one at random and blow off some steam. He would find a replacement some other time or start looking around at the nearest Quarantine Zone.

  Then you walked in. 

And at first, Joel was ready to shrug you off, too. Sure, you were attractive. But looks weren't everything. That's what got him in trouble with the last woman. 

But something in your eyes changed as you scanned the room, taking in the sexual depravity. You didn't shrink in and shut down. You were turned on. He saw the way your chest rose and fell as your breaths shallowed and shortened. The way you chewed your bottom lip. The way you squirmed. That's what Joel needed. Someone as needy as him. 

The brothel owner tried to dissuade him. Huh, Joel wanted to laugh. As if that asshole knew a goddamn thing about what Joel wanted–about what Joel needed.

-

“Take your clothes off ‘n get on the bed,” he ordered after slamming the door shut behind him. He liked how quickly you complied. He didn’t understand why you were so calm, though. He unbuckled his belt, releasing the pressure from his stomach and allowing himself some room to breathe. He let the buckle hang and it jingled as he stepped closer to the bed. 

“All fours.”

Again, you complied swiftly and smoothly, facing the back wall.

He eyed you for any sores. Then he slipped his bare hand around the smooth curve of your ass and his fingertips prodded around your lips and entrance. You were already wet, he realized.  He slid the edge of his fingers forward against your clit. 

You moaned. Something fake and bland. 

He pulled his hand away and slapped you on the ass. “Hey.”  He grabbed you by the cheeks when you didn't immediately face him. Your eyes never met his. “Don't fuckin showboat me,” he warned. 

“Okay,” you said flatly. 

He didn’t like how detached you were. How unafraid. But he willed himself to be patient–the amount of wetness coating his fingers eased his anxiety. He continued to play with your folds as he asked questions.

He cleared his throat. “You like workin here?”

You shrugged. “It’s a job.”

“How long you been here?”

“About a year.”

Joel hummed. “I don’t remember you from last time.”

“Probably had the flu.” 

“You got over it okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, closing your eyes. You seemed to like it when he moved his thick fingers around you real slow. He liked that.

“You got anything else? Any diseases?”

You shook your head. “I don’t get a lot of men.”

Joel paused. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. They like the other girls better.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrugged again. “They’re better at fakin it.”

Joel didn’t know how to feel about that answer. He continued to rub your clit, feeling you get slicker. “So what? You do handjobs, blowjobs?”

“Mostly.”

He noticed an uptick in the tone of your voice. “You like doin those?”

“If the guy is cute.”

He slid his fingers from your clit to your entrance to your other hole. He didn’t push in, only pressed against it, and you sighed. “What about this?” he asked, biting his lip. “You like gettin your ass played with?”

You hung your head and nodded. “If they do it right,” you said with another uptick in your tone. 

Joel liked that. “Ever have a train run on ya?” He slid his fingers back to your clit.

“Yeah,” you answered with a whimper. 

“You like it?”

Your breath hitched as Joel’s fingers sped up. “Been through worse.”

“Worse? Here?” Joel asked, wondering what could happen at a brothel that was worse than a gang-bang.

“No just… you know…” you sighed with pleasure. “--in general.” 

Joel furrowed his brows. You were being honest with him. Too honest, in his opinion. But you were rolling your hips into his hand. And he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

He shoved two fingers inside of you without warning. Your body twitched and you moaned–and it was different this time. Quieter. Realer. Joel liked that. He didn’t mind taking his time to get you ready if he knew you would enjoy it. 

“You like fuckin, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?” You snickered, pushing back into his thrusting hand.

Joel took a deep breath, maintaining his composure. But he knew then that he wanted you. That you were just what he needed and more.

#######

You liked this Joel guy. He took his time. He was asking you questions, trying to get to know you. You don’t remember the last time anyone had done that. …Well, maybe when you first started working there. Trisha and Carrie and a couple of the other women tried, but this felt different for some reason. Like it was leading somewhere. Like there was a promise at the end of it. Like maybe he really wanted to make you come and he wasn’t just there for himself. 

And you liked his voice. It was smoky and deep. He had an accent like a cowboy. It was comforting, in a way.

And his fingers felt nice. He knew what he was doing. You couldn't remember the last time a guy got you that wet with just his hand.

Part of you felt a little hopeful. You thought you might finally get to have some fun like the other girls did. Most of the guys you got were ugly or just plain ol’ depressing. Another part of you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason. You’re not sure why she kept coming up in your mind. You two never worked together. You barely knew her at all.

-

“You ever fuck the other women here?” Joel asked. 

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in proud affirmation. It even pulled a smile from you. 

“What's that mean?”

You weren’t sure how you expected him to react. You weren’t sure why you answered that way. “It means… yeah,” you replied while embarrassment burned your cheeks. You had barely looked at him before, but now you really didn’t want to see his face.

“Yeah, you like fuckin women?” His voice turned breathy. You heard his buckle jingle and the slide of the zipper of his jeans. 

 It turned you on to know that he liked that. Some men hated it. Made you feel like shit for it. But man, this Joel guy was something else. It made you want more of him. More of his fingers. His voice. His skin. “Yeah,” you moaned and shoved yourself harder into his hands, thrusting his fingers deeper.

“So what? You lick their pussies? Rub your little cunts together?”

Your mouth hung open from his words. “yeah,” you said with a hot breath. He pulled his fingers from inside of you and drew circles on your clit. You started whimpering. You nodded your head as fire burned in your core and across your skin. 

“That’s why you work here, huh? You got a needy little cunt?”

His fingers were moving so fast, the muscles in your legs were jumping and your toes were curling. “Uh-huh,” you moaned loud enough for your voice to echo around the bare room.

“That why you left the Q-Z? This slutty hole wasn’t get fucked enough?” His fingers slid back inside your entrance. You’re not sure how many he stuffed in, but it was more than before. 

You nodded with a desperate moan, your right leg slapping the mattress beneath you in frustration. You needed more. His fingers, his words–they weren’t enough. Your body was hot and sparking and you needed-needed-needed. “Joel, please,” you begged, turning to face him, finally opening your eyes again. He was stroking himself and the sight of his cock made you drool. 

“Whatchu need, sweetheart?” He asked and you could almost kill him for it.  

“Please, please fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Need it that bad, huh?” He kicked off his boots and shoved his pants all the way down to the floor. 

You got out of the way as he crawled into the bed and sat up against the headboard. 

“Come and get this cock, you fuckin slut,” he growled. One hand held his length while the other pulled you by the arm. 

You were too hungry to notice how tightly he gripped you. You hovered over his lap as he lined himself up with your entrance. You stared at the curve of his lips on the way down, the mix of gray and brown hairs in his mustache. But there was white on his cheeks and chin. You briefly wondered how old he was. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get a good look at his face. Too busy melting from the pressure of his cock stretching your walls. Fuck, it felt good. You braced yourself on his firm, wide shoulders and brought your hips back up a few inches before sinking down on his length even further. You groaned and tucked your head into his neck.

#######

You started sucking on his neck and his hips began to thrust up into you.

“It ain’t enough that I’m stuffin your cunt?” he grunted. “You need me in your mouth, too?”

You moaned against his throat, sending goosebumps all over his skin. “Yeah,” you said through panting breaths, before latching back on, teeth and tongue digging into his muscle. 

Joel liked you. He really liked you. You were wet and riding him just right. You weren’t mechanical about it, neither–like Joel was just another job to you. There was a sadness to you, sure. It was probably why you didn’t get a lot of men. Men wanted to forget their troubles at the brothel. Have some fun. They wanted the world outside to disappear with their cock inside a woman.

But Joel had tried that. And it hadn’t worked out so good.

So this time, he looked for someone different. Someone who would understand. Someone who would get why he needed to fuck and when and how he needed to fuck, too. 

And you were telling him everything he needed to know. He was learning what you wanted and what you liked and what he could use to threaten you into compliance. 

He pulled you away from his neck, not sure how he felt about being covered in hickeys. “Here,” Joel prodded your lips with his middle and ring finger. “Suck on this, you greedy little slut.”

And you did, moaning desperately as you rolled your hips in his lap. You gagged as he slid his fingers back and forth on your tongue, saliva spilling from the edges of your lips and down your chin. Your eyes were closed and he knew there was nothing going on in your mind. He knew you were focused on nothing but how good he was making you feel.

You started bouncing on his cock and he slapped your ass with his free hand. He gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, forcing you to stop.

“Did I say you could do that?”

Your eyes popped open–meeting his directly. You tried to pull your head away to answer, but Joel shoved his fingers in even further.

He repeated himself. “You tryin to come right now? Did I say you could?”

You let out a pathetic whine and shook your head.

He slapped your ass again and this time he noticed your pussy clench around him. He heard a small moan grow and die in your throat. “You come when I fuckin say you can come,” he snarled with his teeth clenched. He smacked your asscheek again and thrust up into you. 

You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“That turn you on?” He gripped your ass in his hand. “You like takin’ your medicine, bad girl?”

You tried to turn your head, but Joel still had his fingers in your mouth and he held you in place. You looked at him with the most pathetic, pleading look.

“I asked you a question,” Joel growled with wide eyes. His cock twitched inside of you. “You like takin’ your medicine? You like bein told what to do?”

You squeezed your eyes shut again and quietly nodded.

Joel liked that. He liked that a lot. He took his fingers from your mouth and gripped your cheeks. Your eyes popped open again. He licked his lips. “You be a good girl and make me come first, then we’ll see what you get, okay?”

You nodded.

“Now what do you say?”

Your brows furrowed. 

“When I tell you what to do, what do you say?”

Your face softened. You blinked slowly before answering. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s right.” Joel grunted and thrusted his hips. “Now, make me come, you little slut.” His fingers dug into your own hips to guide your rhythm to what he wanted. “Make me come and we’ll see what you get.”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” you murmured again and again.

Your warm, wet cunt sucked him in and stroked him. He could hear it, too, how drippy and turned on you were. It wasn’t long before he tossed you off him with a grunt, throwing you onto your back on the bed. He only fisted his cock twice before shooting his spend on your spread open pussy, on the hair on your mound. He wiped his cum down and around on your clit. “Come on, girl. You can come now. Come on,” he chanted. He rubbed your clit back and forth with the flat of his four fingers. “Give that greedy little cunt what it needs. Come on.”

Your body curled in as you orgasmed and you moaned loudly into your arm. Joel didn’t see the need for you to be quiet, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He rubbed you with his thumb until your legs clasped shut and you squirmed away.

He wiped his hands on the sheets and got up from the bed. He pulled his jeans back on, but waited to buckle his belt. He sat back down and put his shoes on.

You were still lying where he left you. Curled up in the fetal position. It almost looked like you were falling asleep. He figured you might as well rest up now. The drive back home was a bumpy one.

He sighed when he stood up. He figured he should get the liquor bottles out of the truck sooner than later. He huffed. Larry was a real piece of shit for trading a woman for liquor. But Joel wanted you. And he was gonna have you.

#######

You were reeling. Sexually, you were satisfied, but every other emotion bursted and channeled itself through your muscles and across your skin. You felt so vulnerable. This man had seen you–seen you! Like you were a real person or something! Like you weren’t just a ghost or a character in a movie! Everything felt wrong and you couldn’t figure out why. And you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason.

You stayed as still as possible until you heard Joel’s booted footsteps leave the room. You were grateful he didn’t say anything or try to touch you again. Your body trembled as you got out of the bed. You walked on shaky legs to the bathrooms to clean yourself. The world around you was so close and too clear. You could hear and differentiate everyone’s voices in the main room. The air was humid and you could taste it–actually taste it like it was a wet, moldy cloud in your mouth. 

Your hands tremored. You tried to exert control over them, but you were barely able to turn on the sink. You mostly swatted at the faucets until water came out. And there was no comfort to be had in the warm, rushing water. You noticed tension in your cheeks and thought you wanted to cry, but couldn’t make any tears come out.

The woman in the mirror scared you. It was you. You knew it was you. But she felt unfamiliar. Three dimensional. You wanted to run. Run away to the Quarantine Zone or—or anywhere but here.

Then you heard screaming, shrill screams from what had to be one of the other women. Suddenly you were being dragged out of the bathroom. Trisha’s hands were on you. Her fingers were small and thin and her skin was smooth and cold. You had never noticed before.

The lights in the main room were so bright that you could see everything. Every small piece of leather that had flaked off each of the couches and landed on the dirty, carpeted floor. The carpet itself was covered in dust and dirt and leaves. Where did the leaves come from? you wondered. How did they get tracked inside? Weren’t people wiping their shoes like they were supposed to?

There were people moving around. Naked. Half-naked. Clothed. All talking over each other. And blood. Bright red blood. One of the women, with long gold hair, was covered in it, shrieking in pain with both her hands on her hip. Two others guided her past you towards the back. One of Joel’s men was apologizing to Larry. He had black curly hair and a thick mustache. Larry was screaming in his face.

You saw Joel from the back as he pushed himself up from the couch. His shoulder rose and fell with deep, heaving breaths. There was blood dripping from his fist and there was someone beneath him. Once he stepped away, you saw an oblong fleshy ball of bright red where a face should have been. The body beneath the ball didn’t move. 

You folded in half and started heaving. Trisha shrieked in your ear. 

“I’m so sick of you assholes coming here and-and-and-and–” Larry was caught in a loop as he pulled his gun from his pocket. It was a small revolver. You watched his gray-skinned thumb pull back the hammer. “I’m sure! I’m sure!” he yelled over the shouting.

The man with the black curly hair lunged at Larry with a curse. 

The gun-shot stilled everyone in the room. It was loud enough that for a moment, you thought you had been shot. The vibrations pierced you to the very center of your being. But then… Larry was on the floor. Sprinkled with dust from the ceiling tile. And then there was more blood. Bright red blood spilling out from his body. 

You breathed in relief. Not only that you were still alive, but that it was Larry that was dead. For a few beautiful seconds, you felt free. Free from his bullshit and free from the brothel. Free to go back to the quarantine zone and start over again.

Trisha’s smooth fingers pulled one of your arms, but something warm and calloused pulled your other. You looked up, confused. It was Joel. Joel’s hand, which had been on you only minutes previous, felt so strange and unfamiliar. You had just shared a bed with him but–that had been a different man. Certainly different than the one that stood before you now with blood-splattered on his clothes and sweat beading around his temples. 

“You can’t take her!” Trisha cried, tears pouring out her eyes. “You can’t take her!”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he said. Joel’s eyes looked sad. “She’s mine now.”

Terror fell over you like a cold, biting wind. He was talking about you.

Your body started trembling again. You tried and failed to pull your arm away from his grip. “NO!” You shouted. Your vision went blurry as you sobbed. “Don’t take me! Please!” That was why you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie. Joel had bought Carrie. Trisha had told you that Joel had bought Carrie. But the information hadn’t clicked into place. You had spent so long avoiding your body, avoiding feeling any emotion at all that when it spent all night trying to warn you, you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t feel the siren in your gut telling you to stay away from Joel. And now that siren was loud and clear. But it was far too late for you to do anything about it. “Don’t take me! Pleasepleaseplease!”

Joel didn’t budge. He leaned in real close to you. “Now you told me you like bein told what to do.” Your face went fiery hot with shame. He yanked your arm, pulling you from Tasha’s grip. “And right now, I’m tellin you that you’re comin with me.” He continued to pull you out the front door, towards his truck.

“No! Nonono!” You cried. You tried one more time to shake him off, but it was pointless. He was too strong. You were too weak. And you started to wonder if you could have prevented this or if it was simply your fate. Your own boss hadn’t been able to say ‘no’ to these men. What could someone like you have done?

You sobbed into your hands as you sat in the truck. The man with the black curly hair got in the driver’s seat. Joel sat on the other side of you and rubbed your back in some sick attempt at comfort. “You be good for me–” he said, adjusting himself. “--then we’ll see what you get.” 

+++++

a/n: Please let me know if I missed a tag. Also, idk if it's really a DDDNE story or not. ??

story title taken from the song "Mary the Ice Cube" by Primus.

[aurorawritestoescape]

FLOWER

Pairing: post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Tw: 18+ mdni, dead dove do not eat! dark fic! creator chose not to use all the warnings, unprotected piv, rough sex, enthusiastic consent, praise, choking, heavy angst

I didn’t include some warnings so as not to spoil the fic. If you wanna know them before reading DM me🖤

Word count: 900

A/n: Thank you for the moodboard and the writing challenge @iamasaddie ❤️ Your creativity never stops to amaze me😘😘😘

Masterlist

*****

Joel’s gripping the shovel tight, scowling at the first rays of the rising sun. A drop of sweat is sliding down the side of his face while he’s working tirelessly. His plaid shirt is completely soaked and an early morning breeze makes him shiver.

It’s the second time today that he’s sweating so profusely. The first one was a few hours ago when he was fucking you on his bed. Still wearing his shirt and jeans having just returned from a shift he was ruining your tight pussy as his sweat was dripping on your naked breasts.

“Sorry for waking ya up, baby. Need this,” he growled thrusting into you. “Fuck, that’s my girl!” he praised you, his face hovering over yours, after you tilted your hips up and opened your thighs wider for him to plunge deeper into your core. Your white nightie was bunged up in his fist, the skirt pulled up to your waist so he could see your greedy cunt swallowing his cock. His other hand found its usual place around your throat. Squeezing and letting go. And squeezing again.

***

You were always hungry for him, always ready to give yourself entirely. You never minded the dull ache of the stretch when his cock was splitting you in half. You loved the pain he bestowed on you, be it from his thick member or his harsh hands. You cherished every bruise and every scratch. He kissed them all after, gliding his calloused thumb over the ever changing rainbow of his marks on your body.

You’d been together only for a few months but his effect on you was tsunami-like. He quickly became your lover, your man, your god. You were new in town and the people in Jackson told you in a hushed voice to run, to escape, to leave him. He had a bad reputation, bloody trail of his past never seemed to wash off having turned him into a recluse. Yet no one could go against Maria’s brother-in-law. “He’s dangerous, violent, unstable”, well-wishers whispered in your ear at every opportunity when he wasn’t next to you. Which was rare. He became a major part of your life, all your life actually.

***

The first time he choked you, you came all over his thick thighs drowning his cock which was buried deep in your pussy. Soon you both couldn’t get enough of that feeling. Complete submission to Joel had already nested in your soul and you longed to give him more.

He’d never tell you but just the thought of holding your life in his hands like that made his cock throb. He loved your reaction to his hand wrapped around your neck. Joel groaned when your pussy vibrated around him, your cunt kissing his length. You looked so beautiful, your eyes rolled back, mouth opened desperate for air, your walls massaging his cock. He wanted to squeeze every part of you as if you were sand running through his fingers. He loosened his grip on your neck as soon as he started coming filling you up with his warm load. The color returned to your pretty face. You took a deep breath making up for the lack of oxygen and a surge of endorphins made you explode on his cock. You were in a pleasant daze after that and when he took you in his arms and stroked your hair you felt how much he loved you.

***

Today that love turned rotten. Poisonous. Suffocating. After fucking you still half asleep he sat up and put you on his lap with your back leaning against his broad chest. He was thrusting up into you and you helped him bouncing on his fat cock with your knees planted on the bed. His fingers were twitching your nipppes and rubbing your clit until his hand snaked up to the base of your throat and gripped it tightly. Your moan got muffled midway out of your lips and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Love feeling your pulse, baby,” Joel murmured in your ear as your vein was fluttering under the pads of his fingers and your pussy began buzzing around his cock. Your hand was clenching his hair, the other gripping his forearm. You felt his muscles tighten as his fingers were squeezing your neck.

Soon Joel started shooting his cum into your womb and got lost in his high. Your pussy was making him feel so good. He missed how your hand tugged on his hair a few times and then fell on the bed. His spend was dripping out of your hole when his fingers finally parted from your throat.

*****

He stares at the ground and imagines you standing in front of him in your white nightie. You plant a soft kiss on his weathered lips and give him a warm smile. His dick twitches and he hates himself for it. He picks up the shovel and goes home.

There he doesn’t bother washing his hands. They’ll never be clean again. What’s done is done. And he’s done so many unspeakable things. Lost so much due to his mistakes.

He grabs his revolver from the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed. He thinks of all the people he lost. All the people he hurt. He thinks of you, a pretty flower crushed by his brutal hand and his eyes sting with tears.

Today he’ll pay for all his sins. Today he won’t miss.

*****

Thank you for reading!

Let me know what you think❤️ your comments and reblogs will make me very happy!

[dancingtotuyo]

Overtime

Joel Miller x F!reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: You and Joel fight over the remote as adults do.

Warnings/Tags: language, established relationship, handjob (M receiving), some restraint, insinuated that Joel is larger than reader (he can move you around), implied sex, football references, Joel and reader being menaces to eachother

Words: 1165

Notes: Let’s try this again! Tumblr flagged the first one (tumblr you prude!) written for @iamasaddie’s moodboard game! I had so much fun writing this! And seeing everyone else’s creative genius with their moodboards! Huge shoutout to my love and fellow sportsball enthusiast, Angela @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, for letting me talk through stuff and beta reading! And last but not least, @saradika for the divider!

Joel is used to lazy Sunday afternoons on the couch. Typically committing Saturdays for errands and projects, he’s tried to use Sundays as a day to spend time with Sarah, but she’s out of town with her best friend until this evening. Which is how Joel finds himself spread out on the couch, the warm sun pulling through your window on the other side of town.

The tv hums with the voices of the sportscasters over the Cowboys’ game. He can hear you bustling around in your bedroom, two threads keeping him tied to consciousness.

There’s the distinct sound of your footsteps and the channel switching as the broadcaster’s voices change. They’re leading into the late game.

“I was watching that,” Joel says, gruffly.

“You’re sleeping.”

“Am not.” Joel runs a hand over his face, slowly blinking his eyes open. “Just resting my eyes.”

You let out a huff of laughter. “Okay, Dad.”

He eyes your backside as you’re engrossed in the pregame commentary. Dressed in the familiar light blue of your well worn Houston Oilers shirt, a smile spreads across his face. “Is that really what you want to call me?”

You flip him off.

Joel bites back a laugh. He reaches out, pinching your bottom firmly between two fingers. You squeal, spinning to face him. “Joel Miller,” you say, crossing your arms.

“C’mon, Sweetheart. The Oilers left Texas years ago. They ain’t even the Oilers anymore,” he prods, knowing he’ll get a rise out of you. “Turn the Cowboys game back on. It’s almost over.”

“My aligiance is not dependent on the location of my team.” You stick your tongue out. “The cowgirls should’ve put the Giants away by now. Not that you would have noticed.”

“Rude.” He scowls.

“My house, my rules, Miller.”

He lets out a sound that reminds you of a growl and before you have time to tease him about it, his arms are around you, pulling you down to the couch with him. You laugh as his lips press to your neck right where you like it.

Your laughter quickly turns into a soft moan as your head dips against his shoulder. His fingers skirt under the hem of your shirt, caressing the soft flesh of your stomach. “You like that baby?”

You nod your head as soft whimpers fall from your lips. Joel chuckles again. His arm slips around your waist, tugging you flush against him.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs in your ear, fingertips trailing down your wrist.

If you thought you couldn’t melt anymore, you’re wrong. Something akin to a whine escapes your lips as you turn your head to kiss him. You’re so close to his lips when his slow chuckle turns to a laugh and the tv remote slips from your grasp.

He flips the station back just as the Cowboys are kicking off for overtime. Before you can react, he tosses it across the room, holding you against him.

“You jackass!” You strain against him, trying to break free.

“I’m just trying to finish my game.”

“You barely started it before you passed out.”

“Wasn’t sleepin.” Joel’s voice is still gruff in your ear.

You try to wiggle free, but it’s useless. He knows from more than enough experience how to keep you in one spot.

You get more anxious as the minutes tick by, shifting as you can between his legs.

“They’re about to kick off,” you fuss at him.

“Overtime will be done soon.” He pats your thigh placatingly. “We’ll turn on your Oilers’ game then, or whatever they’re calling themselves now.”

You roll your eyes.“The Titians?” You shift again.

“I know my teams, Sweetheart.” Joel nips at your earlobe, eyes trained ahead. “And quit shiftin.”

You furrow your brow, until it hits you, literally. His cock presses into your back as a slow smirk spreads across your face. “Why? Is this affecting you?”

You rub against him more intentionally this time. His breath grows ragged in your ear. His hands move to your hips, desperate to stop your motions. He’s not going to let you win the game.

Try as he might, he doesn't have the sheer strength to keep you immobile. Your hands drop to his thighs, fingers trailing the inner seam of his jeans.

You glance behind you. Joel refuses to look at you, a slight twitch in his set jaw. You’re not sure he’s actually absorbing the game anymore.

Your hand creeps up, landing between the two of you as you palm his erection.

He lets out a low groan, gripping your wrist. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

You smirk. “Who said I couldn’t?”

He groans, back hitting the couch, but keeps a hold of your non-dominant hand, tethering you to him.

You pop open the button of his jeans and his cock springs free. You raise an eyebrow at him. “This is a new development.”

“Had to make things easier for you.” He winks.

You scoff, tracing a vein with your finger tips. “Such a pretty little cock.”

“Little?” He teases. “Ain’t nothing little here, Sweetheart.”

You spit in your free hand before gripping him. You run a finger over his tip, spreading out the precum that’s begun to leak. Joel’s head hits the couch with a low groan.

Using your tongue and hands, you waste no time working him to the edge. You’re far enough into your relationship to know how to get Joel off with quick efficiency.

His hips thrust up. “Fuck, Just like that, Sweetheart. You know how I like it.”

His eyes are closed, chest heaving with desire. He’s all but forgotten about the heated overtime match playing on the TV.

You could finish him off right here. Two quick moves and you know he’d make a mess right here, but his grip on your wrist loosens just enough for you to slip free.

The moment your warmth is gone, Joel’s eyes open. He’s dazed, looking blissed out on your couch. He makes eye contact with you, and you shoot him a wink before flipping the station once again to your football game.

Joel groans, rising to his feet. Laughter settles in your bones. He’s trying to look menacing, but his features are still clouded in lust and desire.

“That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“Neither was turning off my game in my house.”

He rips the remote from your hands, tossing it to the couch. He grabs your hips, spinning you toward the wall.

Your hands spread out against the dry wall with a thud, breath catching in your throat as heat floods your body. “Suppose I need to teach you a lesson now, Sweetheart.” He drags out the nickname as if there’s nothing sweet about you.

Shivers rush down your spine. You’re not sure how much of a lesson he teaches you, but it’s worth missing the first quarter.

Joel doesn’t know how his game ends until the halftime report and quite frankly, he doesn’t care.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

sorry, baby

based on this moodboard by @iamasaddie for the ✏️ game writing exercise 🖤🖤🖤

(ik that's javi p. but I don't know him so have some '70s mobster joel instead)

word count: 539

summary: maybe being a mob wife is not for you?

warnings: suicidal ideations, threats of suicide, guns, allusions to gun violence, allusions to killing, angst, idk guys it ran away from me, dead dove do not eat, dark

dividers by @saradika-graphics

If Joel is startled to wake up to the butt of his gun, he doesn’t show it. At first, in the darkness, he thinks you’re aiming at him. 

He blinks slowly once, twice. Takes in the shake of your arms and the distance between your finger and the trigger. 

You’re holding it just how he taught you, nice and careful, arms outstretched from your body.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he had said in your ear that day as he reached around your body to adjust your grip. “It’s okay to respect its power.” 

And no, he hadn’t expected you to touch it again. Ever. Hadn’t given a second thought to leaving it out when he fell asleep. 

It’s nearly three in the morning, and you’re still in the dress you wore to dinner last night, smears of makeup made gaunt by the thin stretch of moonlight. You always hated hotel curtains that never closed quite right. 

It glints from the tears welling in your eyes. He reaches up, slower than molasses, and wraps his hand around the side of the gun. 

Your hands fall to your lap while his holds steady.

“What’re you doin’, darlin’?” he murmurs. And then he sees it on the nightstand. A little folded card that says, “sorry baby” in your hasty, conjoined scrawl.

“The fuck is that?” he says. 

You snatch at it but he’s faster even with his left hand. Of course he is. He holds it open with his thumb on the crease, and you’re suffocating more with each second as his eyes scan the short letter over and over.

“You want out, huh?” 

“Joel, please,” you start to cry. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, ya said that already, didn’t ya? In your little note. Do anything to get away from me, huh? Even that.” He looks beyond fury, but worse, he looks heartbroken.

“No, not you. Just the rest of it. Never you,” you say.

He shifts his grip and turns the gun on himself. “You think you can fuckin’ leave me like that?” His hand is shaking, but he’s knocked back the hammer. 

“Joel, please,” you whisper, but he’s beyond hearing.

But he’s shaking his head. “What’d those girls say to you, huh? I let you go off with those fuckin��� bimbos one time…”

“The truth. They told me the truth. About what you do. All of you.”

“Honey, you knew. You knew that pretty little life was paid in blood. You knew what you were getting into.” 

He draws the gun to his head, eyes gone dark as they focus only on the tears streaking down your cheeks.

“No!” you’re interrupted by a racking sob, fear coagulating in your throat. “Joel, please. Just put the gun down.”

“You want out? This is the only way, baby. Only way they’ll let you go.”

He grits his jaw and stares, daring you to choose.

“Please,” you gasp through the horrible wrenching pain in your chest. “Joel, please.”

He sets the gun on the nightstand and lets you fall, sobbing against his chest. After a moment, he grips your chin in his fingers and makes you look at him.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that to me. Do you understand? Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again.”

[eupheme]

— tucked away

joel miller x f! reader

<300 words | implied age gap, sneaking around, references to oral sex, fingering

my contribution to @iamasaddie ✏️ writing challenge! this was so fun, thanks so much for hosting this! 💕

Your heart thuds in time with the beat that slips in from the dance floor. All that blocks you from the throng is the narrow hallway that leads to the makeshift coatroom. Sheltered behind the curtain that hides the racks of coats from view.

His mouth is at your throat. Hurried, in his eagerness. In your roaming, greedy touch and soft sighs - unable to wait until you’re back at the hotel.

No one will miss you - not with the post-toast champagne that glitters in their veins, the steady stream of wine and liquor. Too caught up in the circling sway of the bride and groom, to notice that you’ve both slipped away.

Tucked away in this darkened corner of heaven. Coming together after your eyes had met - again, and again, and again. Fingers drifting - a tie loosened, then lost. Mouths following, swallowing unheard sighs.

There’s red on his lips. Smeared across a cheek. You hope soon the marks will drift down, down. Across tanned skin and coarse, dark hair - a messy halo marked around the base of his cock, when you finally are able to have him the way you’d like.

Your legs spread wide to fit his hips, knees pressing to ribs. The fabric of your dress rucked up, as you perch on the wooden table. A fluttering in your belly at the ebbing high - your thoughts a messy, contented swirl. All the while his fingers still move, the dampened heel of his palm rocking against, drawing out the pleasure. Hurtling you towards more.

You can still remember your friend’s text message, sent while you were getting ready. Her answer to your confession of what you hoped the night will bring.

Mr. Miller? Really??

And then a -

Do you like have a thing for older men or something?

Yes, you sigh. As his breath ghosts against your skin - a rasping “You can give me another, can’tcha? Just one more and we can leave-" in your ear - paired with the clever curl of his fingers.

Yes, you fucking do.

[wraithlafitte]

coffee and whiskey

pairing: tim rockford x f!reader

CONTENT: angsty romance, love confession, smut - sweet sweet lovemaking, consent/reassuring 🥵, slow erotic undressing due to the many layers of business professional clothing, marking, SO much kissing, oral (f! receiving), tim is a thigh guy and kind of a munch, safe sex, tim talks u thru it, multiple orgasms, cockwarming and cuddling

word count: 3.1k

a/n: my contribution to @iamasaddie's ✏️ writing game :3 this is some of my best work i almost feel like it's wasted on a character i'm not invested in 😭

When Tim finally emerged from his office to refill his coffee mug, he had to stop dead in his tracks. He rubbed his eyes. Was he dreaming?

Stood at the other side of the bullpen, talking to his captain, was a figure all-too-familiar. After all, how could he forget the magnetic presence of the woman he loved?

As if you sensed his presence too, you turned and looked him straight in the eye. You shook the captain's hand and excused yourself, walking towards Tim.

Tim backed into his office and shut the door, leaning against it. Why were you here? You swore you would never come back to the precinct.

A soft knock sounded behind his head. "Tim," you called through the door. "Let me in."

He couldn't resist you. His hand rested on the brass doorknob for a moment before he slowly, warily pulled the door open, allowing you to brush past him into his office.

"What are you doing here?" Tim's voice sounded hoarse. He was white-knuckling the handle of the mug in his hand. #1 DETECTIVE, it claimed. You had given him that mug.

You felt bad for springing this on him, especially when he was in the middle of a big case, as evidenced by the piles of notes and massive standing whiteboard, covered in scribbles and badly printed photos of suspects.

"I transferred back," you told him, giving him a half-hearted smile. "Narcotics was... boring. We're partners again."

"Why? Last time I saw you..." Tim let his voice trail off, not wanting to remind himself of how he'd embarrassed himself at your parting.

"That's just it, Tim." You step closer to him, placing a manicured hand on his arm. "I've been thinking... about what you said."

Tim blinked, surprised. "And?" he husked.

You sighed, dropping your hand. "I was hoping you would come over to my place, and we can talk about it over a nightcap."

He cleared his throat. "Can't. Got work to do."

"It's 11 o'clock. Captain Braumbauer told me to take you home." Your eyes widened as you realized what you had said. You tried to recover, stumbling through your next words. "I mean- not like that, just to- take you somewhere- get you out of the office," you tried.

Tim smiled ruefully. If you weren't so damn cute, it would be easier to tell you no. "Alright," he said. He plunked the mug down on his desk amongst the loose sheafs of paper and grabbed his coat off the hook by the door. "Let's go."

Tim paused in the doorway of your apartment, looking past you into the space that was all-too-familiar, yet strangely alternate to the place he remembered.

You were already in the kitchen, rooting around in your alcohol cabinet. Tim finally worked up the courage to pass the threshold, gently clicking the door shut behind him.

"Make yourself at home," you called. He followed the trail of your shoes, coat, and blazer, stopping in the living room area adjacent to the kitchen. Your back was turned to him as you poured whiskey into a pair of gold-rimmed rocks glasses he had gotten you one Christmas. He admired your hair, spilling over your shoulders, released from the tight updo you had worn to work. Tim always had liked your hair.

You turned around, glasses in hand, and Tim shifted his eyes down, not wanting to let on that he'd been checking you out.

"Let's go sit down," you said softly, handing him a drink. He trailed after you to the couch, perching himself stiffly on the edge. You both sat there in silence awkwardly for a minute, not looking at each other, until finally you took a big swig of your drink for courage and spoke.

"Like I said before, I've been thinking a lot about... you know." The "you know" in question was the reason you had left the precinct in the first place, abandoning the best partner you'd ever had.

Tim sipped on his drink uncomfortably, eyes fixed on the carpet. What were you going to say? Would you confirm or deny his feelings?

"I shouldn't have left like that," you began. "Not after you told me how you felt. I was just... I don't know. Afraid. Of commitment. Of ruining our professional relationship." You sighed, looking up at the popcorn ceiling. "But I guess I did that anyway."

"Yeah," Tim mumbled. Was he hearing you right? Because it sounded like you were telling him you had felt the same way, at least back then.

You cleared your throat, wringing your hands in your lap. "I guess what I'm trying to say is...."

Tim looked expectantly up at you, eyes widening. It would be harder to tell him what you were about to say if he wasn't so damn cute.

"I love you too."

Tim was stunned into silence. He had given up on finding romance at this stage of his life, assuming that his one chance was gone and that he was too old to get another one. Most girls looking to date were in their 20s, after all. But here you were, the woman in his dreams, the object of his desire, equally middling in age and unfairly beautiful, and you wanted him.

You averted your eyes from his gaze. How did you know if he even felt the same way anymore? You had been gone for two years, maybe he got over you-

You heard the sound of a Tim's glass clinking down on the coffee table. A warm, calloused hand snaked under your chin, lifting your head. His eyes were warm and filled with emotion. He just looked at you for a second. Then he pulled you in.

His lips were warm and cracked and he smelled like coffee and whiskey. You melted into him, letting the gravity of his presence overwhelm you, reeling you in like a fish on the proverbial hook. His scruffy beard scratched against your chin as his mouth worked against yours, rubbing your skin raw, but you didn't care.

Tim disconnected his lips from you, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you still," he whispered.

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling his lips back to yours. You hadn't even finished your whiskey, but you were drunk on him, head fuzzy and filled with the taste of his tongue and the feeling of his hands gripping the side of your neck, your waist, creeping up your back to rest between your shoulder blades.

Your arms dropped to his waist, grasping under his suit jacket at his white dress shirt, trying to pull it out of his slacks. You needed to be closer to him. You wanted to crawl inside his skin and live there forever... wait, that sounded creepy.

Tim got the idea and he shucked off his jacket one arm at a time, never breaking the kiss. He firmly grabbed your shirt at the middle of your back and hiked it up out of your navy pencil skirt, exposing your skin to the night air.

Your hands finally found success with his shirt, ravenously pushing it up and out of the way so you could feel the warm skin of his back.

He pulled away, reaching down to loosen his belt, the clink of the metal sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't bear to be away from him this long, you decided, and grabbed him by the straps of his shoulder holster, hauling him over you as you fell back onto the couch, giggling.

Tim looked down at you reverently, eyes shining, and leaned down to plant a firm kiss to the corner of your mouth before sitting back up, hurriedly ridding himself of the holster and his shoes. His hands shook as he tried to unbutton his shirt.

"Hurry up, old man," you teased, eyes twinkling as you sat up to help him. You undid the last few buttons, running your hands up his soft torso and over his bare shoulders, pushing the shirt somewhere behind him to be forgotten.

He gripped your waist and gently laid you down again, pulling a throw pillow to cradle your head. His fingers skated up to the top button of your blouse, then hesitated.

"Is this okay?" Tim murmured, brow knitted together, his big brown doe eyes flashing with doubt.

You take his hand with both of yours and press his palm flat above your heart. "Tim. I love you. I want this."

He smiled shyly, lifting his hand to slowly undo the buttons on your blouse. His breath hitched as your lacy white bra slowly came into view, your smooth breasts rising and falling with every heavy, wanton breath you took. His arm encircled your waist underneath the fabric, lifting you up slightly to pull the blouse away from your body with his other hand.

Tim pressed your body to his and kissed you tenderly, lips traveling down the side of your face, your neck, and your collarbones before finally settling on your breasts, nipping and sucking at the swells above the seam of your bra. Marking you as his.

You arched your back and released a breathy sigh as he moved down your torso, kissing every inch of bare skin, nuzzling into your soft flesh. He got to the waistline of your skirt and you helped him by unhooking and unzipping the side so he could pull it off of you, followed by your nylons.

You looked practically heavenly beneath him, glowing underneath the lamplight. Of course your panties matched your bra, he thought. You were so put-together. He admired that about you.

Thumbing the waistband of your panties, Tim looked up at you for permission. You nodded encouragingly, a gentle, reassuring smile gracing your face, so he hooked his fingers around the waistband and slowly pulled your panties down your legs. Dropping them on the ground, he took hold of your knees, draping one over his shoulder and pressing the other to your chest.

You only felt a little self-conscious about being fully exposed to him while he was still clothed. The way he regarded you, with such adoration, put any doubts in your mind to rest.

"You're so beautiful," Tim whispered, his head dipping down to shower kisses to the inside of your thighs, wrapping around to the swell of your ass and back again. He began to nip at the skin at the base of your left thigh, trying to leave marks there too. Sparks of sensation shot from everywhere his lips touched straight to your core.

When Tim was satisfied with the marks he had left scattered on your thighs, he kissed his way back up to where you wanted him most. He looked glorious between your legs, graying curls tousled, his tanned, strong arms manipulating your body to just the right angle for him.

Seeing the way you looked at him was all Tim needed to take the final step over the line. He placed an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy and dived in, licking into your cunt agonizingly slowly, alternating between lapping up your arousal and sucking on your clit.

Perhaps because you hadn't gotten any for years, or perhaps because Tim was a pussy god, your climax started building remarkably quickly. The fire that burned in your gut was unlike anything you could have lit yourself.

A string of soft moans left your lips as your hands wandered into his hair, clutching him close to you. He groaned slightly at the pressure, the sound rumbling through your core. As he licked into your hole, his nose rubbed against your clit, mustache tickling your center, and you couldn't help but grind against his face. His hands gripped the outside of your thighs, holding you perfectly in place as you rocked in his grasp.

"Taste- so- perfect," Tim mumbled in between licks. You gave a high pitched whine in response, bucking your hips into his face. He was basically making out with your cunt at this point, which shouldn't have been as hot as it was. When he latched onto your clit, looking up at your face to see your reaction, nose shining with your juices, it was too much to bear.

Your eyes screwed shut as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, clasping your fingers tightly into his hair. Your thighs lurched shut around his head. Tim groaned happily, circling his tongue around your clit as he sucked. You came with a cry, powerful waves of pleasure wracking your body as he kept stimulating you until you finally managed to pull him off and squirm away, panting.

Tim covered your spasming core with his hand, pressing down lightly, taking some interest in the way your pussy quivered against his palm. He looked up at you so innocently, face covered in your arousal, and laid his head against your thigh, kissing it gently.

"God, that was good," you said, catching your breath. "How are you so good at that?"

He grinned impishly against your leg. "It's a God-given talent."

You laughed as he crawled over top of you, wiping his mouth and scruff. You took his face in your hands and pulled him in for a kiss. "Take your pants off, Rockford," you tell him sternly, unable to hide your smile.

"Yes ma'am," he replied in mock seriousness, standing to quickly drop his pants and boxers, finally revealing himself to you. God, his cock was pretty, standing at attention and leaking. A new wave of arousal rushed to your core as you realized he got that turned on just by eating you out.

Opening his hand, he revealed a small foil square that must have come from his pocket, back when his pockets were still within reach. He tore it open carefully with his teeth, peeling the rubber out and rolling it down his cock. Part of you was disappointed that he wouldn't be going in raw, because you wanted to feel every bit of his skin, but you also melted at his protectiveness. He was always like that with you, willing to take a bullet or a beating for you.

Tim knelt on the couch above you, arranging your legs around his waist. You put your hands around his torso and pulled him down to kiss him again. You wanted your lips to be attached 24/7 from now on. Okay, maybe that was a little extreme. But you were too drunk on him to care.

He smoothed your hair back from your face. His cock hung heavy against your stomach, and you just wanted him now.

"You ready?" Tim asked gently, his rough fingers stroking your hair where he had pushed it out of your eyes.

"Yes," you whispered, feeling like your heart would explode.

"M'gonna put it in now, okay?" His dark eyes sparkled in the dim light.

You nodded, breath quickening as Tim shifted above you, lining up with your entrance, burying his face in your neck, and-

"Oh," you whimpered as he pushed into you, kissing your neck again and again, whispering praises in your ear. He bottomed out and stayed still, waiting for you to adjust to him.

"Y'okay?" Tim raised his head and looked at you adoringly. You nodded, biting your lip. "Doing so good, baby." He pressed a kiss to your lips and began thrusting slowly.

You wrapped your hands around his strong shoulders and held him close, not wanting to let him get any farther away than necessary. His skin was hot against yours as he moved against you, settling into rhythm. Your hand moved up the back of his neck to lace into his hair, tugging lightly. He groaned and connected his lips to yours once more, mouths moving in passionate time with his hips against yours.

You felt yourself getting close again; the lack of space between you meant that he was grinding down on your clit with every shallow thrust. Your grasp tightened in his hair and your cunt clenched around his cock.

"Damn, baby, if you keep doing that I won't last," Tim grunted against your mouth, gritting his teeth. "Don't have the stamina I used to."

"It's okay," you murmured, planting kisses into his beard. "I love you. I love you," you repeated, voice getting a little frantic. "I love you, oh God Tim, I'm gonna come again!"

"Come on baby, give it to me," he rumbled, holding himself up on one elbow and reaching down to the place you were connected, gathering up some of your slick and using it to rub your clit gently. That same burning, Tim-shaped fire ignited in your core, guided by his cock inside you and his fingers outside you, a double-pronged torrent of sensation that quickly had you coming undone.

Tim growled deep in his throat as you came around his cock, wailing as your second orgasm hit harder than your first. "That's it, baby. Come for me, come for me," he was chanting in your ear as you gasped and spasmed in his embrace. "Feel so good, gonna make me come too," he persisted, voice strained as his thrusts began to falter.

His hips stuttered to a halt and he gave one last deep plunge into your pussy before he kissed you deeply, sending a drawn-out moan down your throat. You felt his cock twitch inside you, filling the condom with his release. Your hand fisted his hair, the other gripping onto his shoulder, holding him close like your life depended on it. His will to hold himself upright gave out and he collapsed gingerly on top of you, finally breaking the kiss and taking in big puffs of air.

You were hot and sticky with his sweat and yours, but you were strangely comfortable. You stroked his hair tenderly, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his scent. Coffee and whiskey and sex.

"I love you," Tim whispered, turning his face inward to your ear, landing a kiss just below your jaw.

You kissed his shoulder in response. He made an effort to get up, but you pulled him back down. "Let's just stay like this, for a little while." He hummed in agreement, settling down on top of you, still inside you. You ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Thank you for still loving me," you said softly. You had never been more happy to have someone waiting for you.

"How could I not, angel?" Tim murmured back, caressing your face. "You're everything to me. Have been for a long time." He kissed your lips chastely, smiling radiantly.

"You are too," you replied. "Even if I didn't realize it."

dividers by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

can we stay here forever?

pairing: unspecified Pedro Pascal character (pick your favorite) x fem!reader (no name or physical description other than reader has boobs, have fun babes)

rating: M (just to be safe)

word count: 663

warnings: none? i think? just two people disgustingly in love (but lmk if i missed any and i'll add it here!!!)

a/n: this is my submission for @iamasaddie's moodboard writing challenege! i haven't written any fanfic since 2019 and i'd mostly decided to just give it up entirely but moodboards are my weakness and i just had to jump in. this is my first for the PPCU sooo please be nice, i'm a lil rusty (also 100% not proofed) 😅

It wasn’t until you met him that you realized just how…dull your life was.

Maybe dull isn’t the right word. There’s nothing wrong with predictability, stability, routine. You liked knowing what to expect day in and day out. Sure, sometimes you’d feel a need for more, this crack in your domestic facade. But something or someone would always come along to fill it, even if only for a moment. You were content.

But now? Watching the way his bare chest rises and falls. His mess of curls splayed out on the pillow beside you. The late morning sun spilling through sheer white curtains to highlight the curves of his arms, his nose, the tiny patches of skin peeking through his beard that you so love to press your lips to any chance you get.

Dull is replaced by familiar. Warm.

Home.

Days like this are a rare luxury and deeply treasured whenever they come along. Phones off, no need for alarms or scam phone calls about your car’s extended warranty. Only waking when your bodies physically can’t withstand the unconsciousness separating you any longer. The warmth of his arms around you contrasting with the chill in the room, sending static up and down your spine.

When you do finally rise from the tangled web of sheets binding the two of you together, there’s no rush. It’s a comfortable silence filled with jeans zipping, shoelaces tapping the floorboards, car keys jingling as he opens the passenger door for you.

He’s just as mesmerized as you. The way your eyes glow when the sun flashes across at just the right angle. The wind from the open window teasing your hair. Your laugh ringing out over the noise of the dirt road to nowhere. He turns off the truck in the shade of a tree and helps you out, never letting go of your hand as he guides you away. Thick fingers encompassing thin.

You finally find the perfect spot to rest and watch the sun disappear below the tree line and assume your positions from that morning. His bicep shielding your head from the hard ground, you just lay there on the grass discussing anything and everything that floats into your minds. Eventually, you notice he’s been quiet for a while. You peek over to see his eyes shut, lips slightly parted and drinking in slow, deep breaths.

“Is it your bedtime already?” you tease. He breaks out his signature boyish smile and chuckles from deep in his chest. Laughing along, you gently dip the tip of your finger into the dimple that appears on his left cheek before tracing up to the creases by his eyes. He turns into your touch, catching your hand and bringing it down to his lips, the soft hair accenting them tickling your palm. He gently rolls over you, gazing up in awe at his backlit silhouette and your knees drift open to allow him room to settle, blanketing you with his full weight. His focus is locked on you as his fingers caress your hip where your shirt has exposed the skin.

Your eyes drift shut as he kisses his way up your torso, your top riding up further and further as he progresses. He earns a hearty belly laugh when instead of pushing the soft cotton up above your breasts, he simply dives his head under it, nipping at your delicate skin and trailing his tongue down the valley between before ghosting his lips over your collarbone, your neck, your ear. Restrained by the fabric bunched around the back of his neck and your shoulders, unable to pull away, you finally pull him down to you. His arms wedge under you, pulling you flush to his chest. Together, you drown in each other’s touch, sound, taste, smell, willing time to just stop so you can stay here forever.

Most people call it “wasting the day away” except you, because time spent with him is never a waste.

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Tag-Ask Game

Also WIP Thursday because why not?

I was tagged by @chiriwritesstuff 💜

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

I have tons of WIPs. 👀 Too many. I'm trying to focus on my top ten:

Weddings 101 with Dieter

Do We Know How to Love?

Whip it Whiskey

Diddle your Dieter to Disco

Roc & Doc

Creamy Hooligans

Pleasure Principle

Next door to the Devil

Front Office Adjunt

Living with Benny

It's a lot, I'm a lot. The ideas are always spinning around and ever changing. You can also send me an ask about multiple titles because they're all a little weird. I got layers like a cake. 🎂

I'm an egnima, a conundrum and a little hungry. 😋

No Pressure Tags: @megamindsecretlair @beefrobeefcal @pedroshotwifey @rhoorl @maggiemayhemnj @goodwithcheese @drawingdroid @soft-girl-musings @javierpena-inatacvest @iamasaddie @undercoverpena @secretelephanttattoo @alltheglitterandtheroar @tinytinymenace @morallyinept @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @laurfilijames @ladybess-a03 @trulybetty @magpiepills @sp00kymulderr @wannab-urs @gasolinerainbowpuddles @atinylittlepain @theywhowriteandknowthings @agentjackdaniels

I tagged very many people. I'm not sorry. 😎

[joelalorian]

Kate!!! This was sooo good! Playful and steamy. I already love those two! 🩷💙🩵

light in the rain

Joel Miller x f!reader | 2.3k words | 18+ mdni | my fic list | ao3

a/n: this is my entry for @iamasaddie's moodboard challenge! this poured out of me last night, no joke, so thank you for the challenge. it was fun! thank you @katareyoudrilling for reading it over 🫶🏻

tags/warnings: established relationship, banter, drink mention (coffee), fluff, smut, semi-public sex, no outbreak!AU, no ages specified, p-in-v sex, fingering, kissing, fondling, frottage, no use of y/n, reader has no description other than wearing a bra and having a vagina

...

Joel doesn’t notice it until the next time it rains.

He looks out his kitchen window, cup of coffee in hand, and sighs. It’s really coming down, and he knows this will just delay the work they need to get done on the site today. He takes a sip of his coffee and tries to appreciate the warmth he feels as it settles in his stomach. 

He’s not looking forward to being out in this weather, but he needs to get going.

Sighing again, he turns and throws back the rest of his coffee before setting the mug in the sink next to Sarah’s dishes from breakfast. He shakes his head, knowing he’ll be annoyed at himself when he finds them there later, and leaves them anyway. He doesn’t want to be late. 

When Joel opens the front door, he can feel the mist from the rain before he even steps out from under the front porch, clinging to his clothes and arms. He knows he’ll be soaked before he even reaches the door to the truck and the knowledge just increases his irritation at the weather.

Well, he thinks, nothing for it, I guess.

Joel takes a deep breath and makes a run for it. 

Seconds later, almost soaked through, Joel slides into the driver’s seat of his pickup and slams the door closed. He shakes his head, watching as the water from his hair flies off and splatters against the dash. The windows are already fogging up. He starts the engine without looking, throws on the defroster, and leans forward to rest his forehead on the steering wheel. 

Since when does it rain this much in Texas? 

He can almost feel you roll your eyes at his thought, even though you aren’t here to tease him for it. He feels the corner of his mouth lift into the slightest smile.

Joel pushes himself back from the steering wheel and decides he should stop wasting time and get on with it already. He throws on his seatbelt, shifts into reverse, and turns to rest his hand on the passenger seat.

And that’s when he sees it.

He’s struck with the memory, foot on the brake, eyes wide open, staring at the rear window. Frozen in place. The windows are all fogged up from the rain and the heat, revealing a message left behind in the moisture, drawn by a graceful finger.

Your finger.

Despite himself, Joel starts to grin. He flushes, tracing the swooping letters with his eyes, remembering the exact moment you’d written it there the week before. The last time the inside of the truck had been stuffy enough to fog up the windows like this. He feels himself getting hard at the memory and runs his tongue slowly along his bottom lip. 

After a moment he shakes it off and huffs a laugh at himself. His feels better, lighter, like the memory of you has rolled away the storm clouds that were plaguing him, even as the pouring rain continues to beat down on the truck. It doesn’t seem so bad after all, not really. It’ll be fine.

Unable to stop smiling, Joel pulls out of his driveway and heads to work with a grin on his face.

…

One week earlier

Joel crowded you against the side of his pickup, smiling into your neck. “Hey there, pretty lady,” he murmured into your skin.

You laughed. “Hey, handsome.” You felt him curve his arms around your waist as he pressed soft kisses up your neck.

“Goin’ somewhere?” He nipped at your jaw to punctuate his question.

“Thought I was goin’ home with you,” you teased, letting your head fall back against the window to give him more room to work. You were in the parking lot of the bar where you’d met Tommy and Maria for a casual double date, and you’d come here together, after all.

“Hmm, that you are, darlin’. But home is awful far.” 

You laughed, again, charmed as always. “You got a better idea?”

He nodded against your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone. “Why don’t you open this door and find out?” He reached behind you to tug open the door to the backseat of the truck and your eyebrows flew upwards.

“Joel, last time we did that you hurt your back.” 

“Only tweaked it.” He huffed. “You callin’ me old?”

“I’m callin’ it like it is.”

He laughed. “I got an idea, sweetheart, just hear me out.”

You were already moving, had been since he opened the door. You didn’t actually need convincing, even if he did hurt his back last time. 

“Tommy’s gonna make fun of us for being impatient, again.” You were laughing as you crawled inside the truck, feeling Joel climb up behind you and crowd you forward.

He grunted. “Tommy’s just jealous. His truck ain’t got a backseat.” You laughed again and turned around.

As soon as you were facing him, Joel grabbed you by the hips to yank you forwards. You yelped and he grinned.

“Hey there, darlin’. Fancy meeting you here.” He leaned in to encourage you to lie back against the seat, quickly following to hover over you. You could see the lights from the bar shining distantly through the back window, but you knew you were pretty far from the door. 

You rolled your eyes. “Get down here, funny guy.” Joel listened and moved down to meet you in a searing kiss. You lost yourself in it, letting him carry you away with the heat of his tongue. Your hips thrust upwards and Joel thrust down to meet you. He grunted, and you smiled. You tugged on his hair to break the kiss.

“Joel Miller, I believe this is the exact position we were in when you tweaked your back last time.” You tapped his leg, the one that was folded up on the seat next to you, crammed against the door. 

He huffed. “Maybe so.”

You ran your fingers through his loose curls, eyes darting over his familiar, handsome face. “Thought you had a better idea?” You pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth to encourage him.

He smiled and kissed you back. “I do. Let me sit back.” You maneuvered around each other again, following his direction until you found yourself perched on his lap in the middle of the backseat, straddling his hips. 

“Is this for your back or so you’ll be at eye-level with my tits?” You pulled off your top as you asked and he laughed.

“Why not both, hmm?” 

One of your favorite things about Joel was that he never seemed to get tired of watching you undress. He reacted like it was just as exciting as the first time, every time. “Look at you, pretty girl. Shit.” His hands came up to cup you over your bra and you sighed as you leaned forward into his touch. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

Joel tugged down the cups of your bra, watching with rapt attention as your breasts were revealed to him. He swiped his thumbs softly over your nipples and your breath hitched. “Joel–” You felt yourself get wetter as he teased you.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I got you.” He looked up to meet your gaze. “You look real pretty, sitting on my lap, you know that?”

You huffed a laugh and drove your hips down to meet his, feeling his cock hard in his jeans. “Mm, feels pretty good too, Joel.”

“Shit,” he shook his head, smiling. “Should’a taken our pants off already.”

You grinned and lifted up to do just that. “Are we rusty?”

“Hmm,” he mused as he moved to take his off, too. “Rusty?” As soon as you both were done he grabbed your hips to pull you back into place, and your breath caught as your pussy settled against his cock, skin against skin. “I wouldn’t say that.” He pulled your hips forward and you moaned as the head of his cock nudged against your clit. “Doesn’t feel rusty to me.” You cut off his smug grin with a kiss.

You rocked together, letting his cock slide against your increasing wetness, and licked into his mouth. He groaned and wrapped his arms around your waist. For a moment you both lost yourselves in the sensations, working yourselves up as you moved together. Every touch of his cock to your clit sent little lightning bolts up your spine.

“You feel so good on my cock, darlin’,” Joel murmured into your neck, nipping lightly at your bra strap. “So warm and wet and soft, shit,” he sucked in a breath when you ground your hips downward. “Can I slip inside you, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Joel–” 

“Bet I can slip right in there, hmm? Still all open for me from earlier?” You nodded, knowing he was right. He’d crawled into bed beside you, just that afternoon, joining you for a nap that turned into, well. Not a nap. You could still feel it. Feel him. And you wanted to feel it again. 

He grasped your hips again and moved you until his cock slipped perfectly into place, notching at your entrance. You hummed and he pulled you down into a kiss.

“Yeah,” he spoke right against your lips, almost whispering. “Let me in, darlin’.” He thrust his hips upwards and pulled yours down at the same time. You felt the head of his cock slip inside you, easy as anything, and closed your eyes at the stretch. “Just like that. Doin’ so good for me. Always do.” He praised you as you sank slowly and steadily onto his cock, as your breath came quicker and your chest heaved. Soon enough you were sitting flush with his hips as you both took a deep breath, taking a moment to simply feel how full you were. Like always.

Your hips twitched and he moaned. “Feels like heaven, sweetheart, fuck.” He dropped his head back against the seat and you followed, kissing his neck and nipping at his jaw. You tilted your hips forward, on purpose this time, and felt him slip just a little bit deeper. You both moaned.

“I swear,” he started, breath hitching as you shifted your weight slightly, “I swear this gets better every fuckin’ time.” 

You smiled and lifted your hips slightly. He tugged you back down. “No, darlin’, just sit here for a minute. Keep me warm.”

You laughed. “It’s plenty warm in here already, Joel.” You gestured idly to the way the windows had fogged up around you, probably giving away exactly what you were doing in here to anyone who looked close enough in the dark. 

“Not as warm as it is in here,” he winked at you as he drove his hips upwards, and you gasped, trying not to laugh. 

“You’re such a dork,” you teased him, fighting against the urge to start moving your hips. 

“Your dork,” he agreed, pulling you into another searing kiss. As he did, he finally released his grip on your hips, and you started to move. You moaned in relief, and he stole it from you with a smile.

You found a rhythm together easily, moving in a way you’d spent countless nights (and days) perfecting. Your body responded, attuned to his, always ready to meet him. It never faded, this feeling you chased together. This connection. 

It was building inside of you and you could feel it there on the horizon, rushing closer. You knew Joel could feel it, too. He slid one of his hands down until his fingers ghosted lightly over your clit, and you gasped. “Yeah, darlin’,” he smiled, watching intently as your eyelids fluttered. “Look at you.”

He pressed harder and started moving his fingers against your clit to the same rhythm as his hips, and you whined. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful, stretched open on my cock. So perfect.” One side of his mouth lifted in a smile as he watched you race toward your peak. “Come for me, sweetheart. I want to watch.” You met his gaze again and gasped as he drove you over the edge. 

You felt your pussy clench around his cock as you thrust your hips downward one more time and you cried out, wordless, unable to look away from him. He smiled and worked you through it. “Prettiest thing I ever saw,” he praised. You clenched again and he sucked in a breath. “Shit. Just like that, darlin’.” You smiled back and lifted your hips, breathless, thrusting down one more time as you felt him join you. 

The way his face broke open with his orgasm was beautiful, every time.

You were both breathing hard, like you’d been running. You let yourself fall forward to rest your forehead against his, and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Not so rusty after all, hmm?” You could hear the smile in his voice and you grinned in response. 

You sat up and moved your hips, both wincing as his cock slid out of you. You could feel the mess that followed behind it and groaned. Joel laughed. “It really did get warm in here, huh?”

You looked around and realized the windows were so fogged up you couldn’t see anything outside, just the blurry glow of the lights from the bar. Grinning, you reached up behind him and drew bunny ears in the fog above his head, laughing when he tilted his head back to look upside-down at what you’d done.

He rolled his eyes. “And you say I’m the dork?”

You laughed again, and leaned forward to write a message in the condensation behind him. He waited patiently, didn’t look until you were done. You could feel his eyes on you, watching your face as you wrote. You sat back and he tilted his head back again, looking for it.  

When he saw the message, he pulled you closer into his arms even before he turned back to you. He met your gaze with a soft look in his eye that you knew he reserved just for you.

“I love you too, darlin’. So much.”

...

[beartitled]

I saw you draw the burned grey before but could you draw the drowned grey?

She angy

[wraithlafitte]

the irony of this one-off writing game fic being one of the prettiest things i’ve ever written! why can’t i write good on my own ideas 💀💀

[kakikudoku]

バウ・アルマ 🐾🦴🐶

[joeloverture]

sea-cret obsession | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | updates blog pairing: dad's enemy!yachter!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] your dad's always had a superiority complex when it comes to his place at austin's finest yacht club. when joel miller joins the club, not only does he dethrone your dad — he also becomes your newest obsession. warnings: (18+ mdni) yachter!joel, dad's enemy!joel, age gap (mid 20s/mid 50s), alcohol, joel is implied to be older than reader's dad - don't read too far into it, reader wears a bikini (anyone can, i promise!), fantasizing, creepyish joel but reader's into it, soft!dom joel, porn with a paper-thin plot, m!receiving oral, throatfucking, facial, cum-eating, f!masturbation, blowjob in the captain's chair, daddy kink (oops), thigh riding, dirty talk, praise, degradation, pet names, aftercare [no use of y/n] word count: 2.9k a/n: this was supposed to be a ficlet for @iamasaddie's ✏️game. this is not a ficlet. please suspend your disbelief, this concept simply fell into my lap the moment i saw the wonderful moodboard aly put together for me. go check out the other fics, most of which are much shorter than mine and are absolute brain candy, that stemmed from aly's game!

Austin is hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell, and you haven’t stopped sweating bullets since climbing out of Lake Travis. After an afternoon of floating belly-up in your bikini off of the dock of the yacht club your dad frequents, your need for a drink finally outweighed your need for aimless swimming.

Your bare feet are still burning from the hotfooted walk across the wooden deck into the bar. Water droplets cling to your skin and leave a pattern of stippled concrete in your wake. It’s been a few hours you’ve seen your dad around the club, having already gotten into a pissing contest with new club members over horsepower and amenities. Your dad’s the type to always want the biggest and the best: the most decks, the biggest wine fridge, the nicest galley — because God forbid he lose his running ten-year superiority to a newbie.

So yeah, you need a drink. You don’t even have to order; the bartender, Callie, simply slides your usual order over, which you nurse while watching a preseason football game. You haven’t bothered to sit down, your hip popped out with your elbows propped up on the granite countertop.

You don’t even notice the wolf whistle from behind is directed at you until a man sidles up next to you, flashing a smile at Callie. He looks like he belongs in a yacht club, curls styled and sculpted neatly around his face down to where the collar of his blue blazer begins. Some of the buttons on his striped shirt are undone, and your eyes, much to your chagrin, linger at the slice of tanned chest peeking through the fabric.

He looks you up and down, unabashedly licking his lips when he sees the crease of your thighs. “Sweetheart, you’re much too pretty to be entertainin’ the ragtag kinda men around here.”

It’s not the first time you’ve been hit on by the yachters at this particular club, but it is the first time one of them has caught your eye. “I’m not–” you start before you hear the telltale sign of your dad’s laughter coming from close by. You turn around, drink in hand as he rounds the corner, sunglasses on and a towel around the back of his neck. 

Your dad’s expression immediately sours with a speed you’ve never seen in him before. His lips draw tight at the sight of you – or maybe the sight of the man next to you.

“Joel,” your dad says, separating from his entourage. He wraps a protective arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest. “I see you’ve met my daughter.”

“Seems it,” the man, presumably Joel, nods, flagging down Callie for an old fashioned. The glass sweats condensation along his sturdy hand. He holds eye contact with you while he sips, only looking away when he runs his tongue along the rim of the glass. “Oughta let me take ‘er for a ride one day. Bet she’d appreciate the fine machinery of a real boat.”

You don’t miss the innuendo to his words even if your dad doesn’t. You scrub your hands along your sides, your sunscreen-sticky skin dewy beneath your palms. You shush the part of yourself that bets you’d appreciate it, too.

“Your boat is maybe good for getting to the retirement home across the lake,” your dad snaps, squeezing your shoulder. He pushes his sunglasses up his nose. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s head home.”

You find your flip flops at the bottom of your beach bag, barely having the time to kick them on before your dad is practically pulling you out of the yacht club. He gives half-hearted waves to his usual boating buddies until you’re in the parking lot, surrounded by heat shimmering over the blacktop. The scalding hot leather seats burn the backs of your thighs and the small of your back as you settle in. With a purr, the air conditioner blows a fresh burst of wind in your face.

“What was that all about?” you ask when he starts the engine.

Your dad clips his sunglasses on his polo shirt, gripping the steering wheel ten and two with a winded sigh through his nose. “Fuckin’... rookie with his triple-decker Ferretti.”

Joel looked rich. But not Ferretti rich. “Who the hell in Austin owns a Ferretti?”

“That son of a bitch, that’s who. I don’t want you runnin’ amok on Joel’s boat, you hear me?”

“Ain’t planning on it,” you respond as if you don’t already know what’ll happen if Joel propositions you again.

You see Joel again soon, but only in passing. A wink behind your father’s back, a drink from the gentleman across the bar that was only coincidentally Joel. The locations of these run-ins are always different. Sometimes you walked by each other on the dock. Sometimes he’d give you both a quick wave from across the water before he sped off, leaving the boat rocking on the stirred up tide and your dad cussing up a storm.

Today’s almost-tryst happens on the dock. You’re walking past Joel’s designated dock in a bikini that you’d nearly thrown out because of its snug fit. You have to smother your disappointment when you don’t see him on the top deck sipping a beer. You know better than to be disappointed over the man who your dad has not only claimed as a mortal enemy, but also claimed as the antichrist. With the thoughts Joel gives you when your hand is between your thighs, it might not be too far from the truth.

You think you have most of it figured out – he’s rough, he has to be. With how relentless as he is on the waters, it makes no sense for him to be anything else. His fancy, custom belt buckles snicking as it comes undone so he can yank his jeans down and get inside of you. Those chains he always wears would hang in your face, swaying with every roll of his hips into yours as he chases his pleasure deep inside of your–

“Woah there, darlin’,” a honeyed voice coaxes you, a muscled arm darting out to stop you in your path. “Almost walked right into the lake.” Your head snaps up to look at Joel, the very inconvenient object of your fantasies. You swallow the quickly-forming lump in the back of your throat. “You sure you ain’t had too many?”

“Positive,” you say. You haven’t even done a shot s0 far today.

“Mmm, alright.” The playful glint in his eyes doesn’t seem too convinced. It makes your heart stutter before you remind it to keep beating. “Tell ya what, you’re welcome to ‘sober up’ on my boat.”

You look between where your dad’s dock sits empty. He’s out with his co-workers today, shooting the shit too much for their own good. Then you look between Joel and his boat, the beauty of a Ferretti that’s just two steps away.

Mouth already watering at the possibilities, you say, “I do remember you promising me a ride, old man.”

Joel’s lips curl into a knowing smirk, and he makes the long step from the dock to the boat, hand held out for you. You don’t hesitate to let him help you aboard. 

You’re on your knees in front of the captain’s chair before he gets to the middle of Lake Travis. “Old man,” he mocks above you with his legs spread as far as they can go. You kitten-lick his hardened cock, making sure to lap up the obscene amount of his precum. There’s certainly one part of Joel that doesn’t need to go to a retirement home, and it’s in your mouth. You suckle at the leaking head of his cock while his strokes your cheek, only pulling away to spoon a drop of his precum from your lip onto your tongue. “You like suckin’ an older man’s cock, pretty girl?”

You nod eagerly, taking him deeper so you can tongue the vein along the underside of his cock. From that, he groans, head slumping on the headrest so he can gather himself. You spit a generous amount into your hand, wrapping around the base to properly suck him.

“Bet there’s a whole ‘nother lake in that skimpy lil’ bikini of yours, ain’t that right?” You nod around his length and go a little deeper. He’s heavy on your tongue, long and girthy all at once. He presses lightly against the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him, but you wouldn’t pull away from him even if the yacht itself set on fire. He moans as you start to bob your head up and down. You rub your thighs together just thinking about what his cock could be capable of between your legs. “Mhm, I know, baby. You wanna push that outta the way and give it a rub for me? A rub for your real daddy?”

A choked whimper punches its way out of you. His hips jerk from the vibrations, unintentionally pushing himself further down your throat. You expect it to be too much, but it isn’t. You pull away from him, taking a quick breath as you wrap your hand around the wide palm seated on his thigh and raise it to the back of your head. “Please fuck my throat, daddy,” you pout up at him, a mixture of your spit and his precum dripping down your chin and into your cleavage.

Another groan tugs its way out of him when he looks down at you. He cups the back of your head and brings his cock back to your mouth. “Can’t say no to such a gorgeous fuckin’ face. Gonna look so damn good covered in my cum.” You keep licking his tip, not wanting to miss a single drop of him. “Go ‘head and put a hand on your pussy, baby. Rub that clit that daddy’s got all throbbin’.”

And how could you ever say no to him? Your hand is down your bikini within seconds, peeling your tacky panties away from your cunt so your fingertips can rub circles along your clit. A circle against your swollen core pulls a moan from you right as he thrusts into your throat. He starts out slow, tentative as he pushes all the way into your throat and then pulls all the way out. His second thrust is much harder, stifling your breathing for a moment as a strangled noise of pleasure leave his parted lips.

He nudges you further down onto his cock, burying your nose into the triangle of skin exposed by his rumpled button-down. You force down the gag that builds in the back of your throat. Joel keeps your mouth speared on his cock with shallow rolls of his hips into the warm wetness of your mouth. You whine, prompting a hearty chuckle from him. “Good girl, daddy’s good little girl. Keep playin’ with yourself for me.” He smirks down at you. “Ain’t much different than what you do in your own bed, huh? Pussy just cryin’ for some cock, I bet.”

You moan in agreement as your eyes flutter shut when you rub your clit harder, harder, harder until arousal is smeared all over your knuckles and across your mound. “Nuh-uh,” he says with a punctuating adjustment of his hips. You gag, spit webbing through Joel’s happy trail. “Eyes on me.”

You’re satisfied to find him just as debauched as you feel. Strands of his usually put-together hair are out of place along his forehead, and his golden chain glistens with sweat. His hands grip the arms of the captain’s chair, spread on the tanned leather and exerting dominance over your kneeling silhouette. But you aren’t fooled. There’s a certain rosiness to his cheeks, a flare to his nose, that lets you in on the secret: he’s just as wrecked, just as in deep as you are.

You pull up and immediately sink down on his cock again, pleading eyes looking up at him, asking him. I want it daddy. I want you. And then he’s fucking your throat in earnest. His hips buck up to meet the back of your throat. You struggle to keep up with his size, his pace, but you suck his cock even with the knowledge that you won’t know how to explain your sore throat or raspy voice to your dad.

Joel squints down at you, absorbing the seeping spit from the corners of your raw lips, your droopy, ecstasy-laden eyes. He sighs, sinking down into the chair as he grinds his cock into your mouth and moves your head up and down his length. You take the hand that isn’t playing with your clit and reach to grab at his balls, kneading them. A narrow breath trips out of his lips. “Nasty bitch. Fuck, baby. Daddy’s close. Keep – keep doin’ that.” You drag your tongue along that bottom vein again, kneading one of his balls and making sure that when he pulls you off of his cock, you treat the head to one final taste. 

“Open up, slut,” he coaxes. His cock twitches. He jerks himself once, twice, and then cums, rope after rope hitting your damp skin. His cum is hot, sticky, and you’re too preoccupied with trying to catch some of his release that your hand stalls over your cunt. You whimper when his cum lands on your tongue and follow it up by swallowing. Joel’s breath is unsteady as he looks down at you, cock softening in his lap. “Good girl,” he praises, reaching out to run his thumb along your stained skin. Drop by drop, he feeds you his cum, and you lap it up just as eagerly as you’d lapped him up. 

You pull your hand out of your bikini when he’s done, tacky arousal stretching between your fingers. Going back on your haunches, you suck in a deep breath through your abused throat. 

Joel pats his wide, thick thighs above you, the same ones you’ve been fantasizing about since that first day in the bar. “I promised you a ride, didn’t I?” A familiar, hooked smirk pulls at his mouth. Your face lights up in recognition and you practically scamper onto his thigh, stumbling as you tug your bikini out of the way to settle yourself on the linen coral shorts he has on. Joel laughs, a noise that has your cunt leaking onto the fabric, clit fluttering from the friction. Heat pulls tight in your stomach.

His hands land on your hips, guiding you back and forth when you hesitate at first. “Grind on daddy’s thigh, baby. Wanna see you cum on me.” Your head tips forward, forehead slotting against his shoulder when you start to push your hips into his. Need springs awake in your stomach when he drags you forward. A frayed moan tumbles out of you from his near-manhandling. You rut into Joel, bouncing, grinding yourself on him in the same way that you’d imagined yourself doing at least a dozen times before this.

“Daddy,” you whimper when the muscle goes taut underneath you, plucking something in your cunt. At the same time, a speedboat passes Joel’s yacht outside, leaving the ship rocking on the water in time with your movements as you ride his thigh. You yelp, a strained noise as the pressure intensifies on your clit. “Close!”

He grips your hips even tighter, bounces his thigh up against you. “That’s it, that’s it. Let it happen baby, give it to daddy.”

You come undone with the taste of his cum still rich on your tongue and his words ringing in your buzzing ears. Your orgasm whips through your body and leaves you shuddering against his center, halfheartedly continuing to roll your hips up against him. His thumbs rub circles into your skin while you come down. You suck in a shaky breath, Joel’s palm stroking the small of your back. “Did good for me, baby. Look real pretty when you come. Real pretty.”

You give him a shy smile, and he leans forward to kiss you, a brief moment of gentleness amidst his usually ubiquitous harshness. He pulls away with a tiny pat to your ass. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You stumble off of him on shaky legs, leaning against the captain’s console. Joel pulls his shorts down his thighs and tucks his cock away, the wet spot your cunt had made on him beyond visible as he stretches himself out. He fishes around in a drawer in the galley for his baby wipes and joins you back at the console. He takes them to your face, wiping down where his cum had hit your skin. He even dabs gently at your thighs. Orgasm bliss clings to the edges of your vision still, and you can’t help but lean into him as he takes care of you.

“Could take you for a real ride, now,” Joel says with a moderate shrug. “Nice cove on the west side of the lake, good for a quick swim. I’m sure your dad would throw a fit if he knew, but I’m sure you’re good at keepin’ secrets, too. Got a real good mouth on ya.”

You playfully punch his shoulder with a roll of your eyes, and in that moment, it feels like you’ve known Joel much longer than you have at all. Like this isn’t your first time on his boat, and this wasn’t his first time being in your mouth. “Alright,” you begrudgingly smile at him. “Whatever you say, old man.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes as he starts the engine.