Riding in on the wind and rain

Elda || Joel Miller and Arthur Morgan ♥ || 30s || MDNI

[pedrospascaled]

JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN as JD Richter Extant | Season 2, Episode 1 - Change Scenario

[sleepy-dino12]

Daily dose of Joel Miller

shirtless version is on my bsky

[pedrospascaled]

JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN as Jason Crouse The Good Wife: S07E04 - Taxed

[dalekinapaintedparadise]

Negan Smith in The Walking Dead 10x06 Bonds

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Contractor Roleplay with Joel

Joel Masterlist Updates Account

You and Joel keep indulging in roleplaying, this time he’s a contractor, and your kitchen isn’t the only thing getting drilled and rebuilt.

warning/tags: smut, minors DNI contractor x housewife roleplay, unprotected piv, fingering, overstimulation, established relationship, creampies, multiple orgasms, infidelity (not in real life, just as part of the the roleplay fantasy)

“Pleeeease, Joel,” you pouted, laying it on thick, with the biggest puppy-dog look you could muster, the one that always melted him, the one he could never really say no to.

“I ain’t doin’ it again,” he kept his eyes fixed stubbornly on the TV, refusing to even glance your way because he knew the second he did, he’d fold.

“But you don’t even gotta act this time,” you argued, scooting closer, your voice sweet and coaxing. “You’re a contractor. It’d be like any normal day at your job.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “A day in my job doesn’t include… whatever it is you’re plannin’ to do.”

“All you gotta do,” you leaned down over him on the couch, sliding your palms to his cheeks, “is swing a hammer and follow my lead.” You pressed your forehead to his until he had no choice but to look at you. “Please. For me?”

And Joel knew he had no saying when you had your mind set on something.

You put on the nicest lingerie you owned, the set that made your skin look like something meant to be unwrapped, and over it you slipped into that silk robe, the fancy one you bought years ago with your first real salary, just because you wanted to own something expensive. It made you feel sinfully glamorous, but somehow everyday felt too mundane to wear something so fancy, so the robe never earned its moment until now.

The fabric flowed over your body like water, you added heels, tall enough to change the tilt of your posture, making your legs stand out, making you walk like a supermodel. You pinned your hair up, exposing your neck, making your earrings sparkle with every breath. A martini in hand completed the picture.

You looked like the kind of woman who never lifted a finger. A woman who spent her afternoons lounging around her mansion, waiting on men she paid to do the heavy lifting. A rich housewife about to “inspect” the work of the contractor she’d hired for a kitchen renovation.

When you finally walked down the stairs, each heel clicking loudly, you found Joel standing in the kitchen exactly where you told him to be.

And he was wearing the damn tool belt. The leather riding low on his hips, with the heavy metal tools clinking faintly when he shifted, the weight tugging his jeans just enough to show the deep cut of his pelvis. He stood there bracing his hands on the counter, looking every bit the rough, hardworking contractor you were supposed to be hiring, because he indeed was one.

He lifted his eyes when he heard your steps, and the moment he saw you, wearing that silk, those heels, your lips painted… his breath stalled, and he parted his lips just a fraction.

You let your fingers trail down the stem of your martini glass and said in the lazy voice of a woman who always gets what she wants, “Mr. Miller. Right on time.”

He flicked his eyes to yours, his pupils already betraying him, the faintest crack in his resolve showing as his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile… and losing.

“I… uh… I’ve been talkin’ with your husband bout the ideas he had in mind for the renovation an’ I—” Joel started, clearly trying to pull himself back into character, even though this was literally his day job. The poor man sounded like he was reading from a script he’d never seen before.

“Forget my husband,” you cut in, lifting your martini to your lips with a dismissive flick of your wrist, running your eyes down his body and back up again. “man has no clue about anything. No vision whatsoever.”

Joel blinked. “But he approved the plans f’the new kitch—”

“Do I look like I care, Mr. Miller?” You stepped closer, pinning him with a sharp look. “It’s my house. And in my house, people obey me. I’m paying you. That makes you my employee. So you will do whatever I ask you to do. Am I clear enough?”

You felt the thrill of it, the power, the dominance, the way he straightened a little under the force of your voice.

“Clear as water,” he cleared his throat, a little shake in his voice betraying him, he was still not very good at improvising, that much was clear. “Just… don’t think your husband will be too pleased when he comes back an’ sees a kitchen he did not agree with.”

“Don’t worry,” you took another slow sip of your martini, the cold glass sweating against your fingers as you dragged your tongue across a single drop on your lip. You saw the way he bobbed his throat. “I’ll handle my husband. I recommend you stick to what you’re ordered to do.”

Joel shifted, the tool belt clinking, he was trying hard to keep his eyes anywhere but the soft V of silk slipping open along your chest and legs.

“What… uh… what do ya want me to do with the kitchen, then?”

You rested your back against the counter, arching just enough for the robe to glide open along your thigh, exposing a long stretch of bare skin and the faint outline of your lingerie beneath.

“Well,” you purred, dragging your fingertip down the stem of your glass, “I’d like to hear your ideas, Mr. Miller. I’m sure they’re far brighter than my stupid husband’s.”

His breath caught, he had his eyes glued to the line of your leg, and he swallowed again like he’d forgotten how to do anything else.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat in that contractor voice he was trying out, “so, the way I see it, ma’am, we can knock this wall out, open up the kitchen to the livin’ room. Might cost a little extra, but it’ll give you more space. More light comin’ in, too.”

“Mmm, more light sounds nice. It does gets so dark and lonely here.” You looked at him like you wanted to devour him, as if you were starving to put your hands on the handsome contractor while your husband was away from home.

Joel side-eyed you, twitching his mouth like he was fighting a smile. “Lonely, huh? Well… that’s the nature of a house. Ain’t much company in drywall and wood beams.”

You sighed dramatically, swirling the glass. “It’s not the house that’s the problem, Mr. Miller. It’s the man who’s supposed to live in it. Always away. Never… present.” You let your robe slip just a little off one shoulder, tempting him more and more. “Never takes care of me.”

Joel shifted on his feet, tightening his jaw. He wasn’t entirely sure of what to say, improvising wasn’t his area of expertise… but still, he couldn’t deny the adrenaline of feeling like he was flirting with this rich, beautiful, and very much married woman.

“Now, ma’am, I’m just here to talk remodelin’. Walls, cabinets, fixtures. Don’t know nothin’ about your husband.”

You pouted, watching him over the rim of the glass. The hot contractor was going to be yours tonight, damned be your fake husband. “But don’t you ever wonder what happens to a woman when her husband’s never around?”

Joel set the rolled-up plans down on the counter a little too hard. “Darlin’—”

“Housewife,” you corrected him brightly, breaking out of character for just a moment. “Desperate housewife. Try to keep up, Joel.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, “Lord help me,” but you saw the way his cock twitched in his jeans when your robe slipped further down, exposing the lace strap of your bra.

“What about you?” You teased your fingers over the collar of his work shirt, pulling it open just enough to hint at his skin and the chest hair you loved so much, “Do you have a girl waiting for you at home, Mr. Miller?”

“Yes.” He said it firm, like he didn’t even have to think about it. It was like a reflex after so many years together, he was used to women asking that question, and the answer always left his mouth before he could process it. He never hesitated for a second whenever it came to letting people know he had a woman. You were his woman, and he couldn’t be prouder.

You laughed with mock disdain. “Bet that old ugly witch doesn’t know the first thing about keeping a man like you satisfied, does she?”

Joel shot his brows up, because technically you were the “old, ugly witch”, except it wasn’t you, because now you were the hot housewife, were you? Hell, roleplaying was even more confusing than he’d anticipated. Conflicted didn’t even cover it, his whole face tightened like you’d just handed him a live grenade.

“Does she?” you repeated, leaning in, pushing him, hungry for him to keep the scene alive.

“Darlin’…” he said, breaking character immediately, with guilt all over his voice, “doesn’t feel right to talk that way about you.”

“It’s not really me, Joel,” you insisted, waving your hand. “It’s all made up. Just follow my lead.” You cleared your throat, sliding right back into the sultry purr of the housewife. “Bet she’s not as pretty as I am.”

“Are you sure this ain’t one of those tests where everythin’ I answer is wrong?” He said, clearly miserable with the idea of bad-mouthing you, even fictionally.

“Jesus, Joel, it’s just an act!”

“Fine,” he grumbled, giving in. “Yeah, she’s a goddamn pain for the eyes. Can’t even look at her face when we fuck, gotta close my eyes and think of someone else ’cause she repulses me.”

Your smile vanished like he’d slapped it off. A frown replaced it. Because he sounded way too confident saying it, a very real and convincing act. “…Oh. That came out really naturally, Joel. You sure you’re still acting?”

He lifted his hands instantly, with panic all over him. “Darlin’—darlin’, wait a minute, you just told me to—”

“Ugh. Forget it.” You said rolling your eyes and changing the topic quickly. “So, tell me, what else would you… recommend for my kitchen?” You asked him as you brushed a hand over the counter beside him.

Joel cleared his throat, darting his eyes from your cleavage back to the improvised plans he’d drown minutes before. “Uh—could update the counters. Granite, maybe. New sink, too. One of them deeper basins, for… uh… pots and pans.”

“Mmm.” You leaned in closer, your vanilla scented perfume clouding between you. “Deep sounds good. I’ve been in need of something deep lately.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you bit your tongue to stop a giggle from escaping your lips, clearly subtlety wasn’t your thing.

Joel groaned under his breath, gripping the edge of the counter. “‘Scuse me, ma’am, but is all’a this bout your kitchen, or somethin’ else?”

You took a step closer. “You’re very sharp, Mr. Miller. My husband? Not so much. He doesn’t notice things the way you do. Doesn’t notice the woman he married anymore.”

Joel exhaled through his nose. “Now, ma’am, that’s not somethin’ I oughta be hearin’. Shouldn’t speak that way bout him. I just came here to do my work.”

You leaned on the counter so your robe gaped scandalously low. “Work, hm? That’s what my husband always says. He’s always ‘working,’ always too busy. By the time he drags himself home, I’m just… invisible.”

Joel swallowed hard, almost like a warning, “Careful.” He snapped his eyes to yours dangerously. “You keep pushin’, I ain’t gonna be talkin’ about no cabinets.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Oh? What will you be talking about?”

Joel stepped closer. “’Bout how you’re a married woman, sittin’ here beggin’ for attention. How maybe I oughta teach ya a lesson for flirtin’ with the hired help.”

“Flirting?” You forced a laugh. “You’re delusional if you think a woman like me would ever flirt with the contractor.” But you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing your thighs together under the robe, because you were definitely flirting with the contractor. “Mr. Miller, that would be highly unprofessional.”

He gave you a wicked, wolfish grin. “Well… I ain’t never claimed to be professional, sweetheart. Just a strong man, very good with my hands.”

“Good with your hands, you say? Oh, my husband… it’s been so long since I’ve last felt his hands, he doesn’t touch me, Mr. Miller. Doesn’t make me feel like a woman at all. Do you know how it feels to lie awake at night… aching for something the man you married can’t give you?”

Joel flexed his hand against the counter, his knuckles going white. “Now, darlin’, I got a big patience, but you’re testin’ it now .”

You knew his patience wasn’t the only big thing about Joel. “Maybe that’s what I need. A man with patience. A man who actually knows what he’s doing.”

He narrowed his eyes, but you caught the dangerous heat sparking in them. “An’ you think that’s me? Some contractor just here to fix your kitchen?”

You straightened, letting your robe fall open wider now, so he could see the sheer lingerie beneath. “I think you’re the kind of man who’d know exactly what to do with a lonely housewife. The kind of man who wouldn’t leave her unsatisfied.”

Joel groaned, dragging a hand over his stubble like he was trying to restrain himself. “Jesus Christ… You really ain’t givin’ up, are you?”

You shook your head slowly, biting your lip. “I need more than granite counters, Mr. Miller. I need a real man. Not some boy who pretends he’s busy with work. Someone strong. Someone who’d bend me over the nearest surface and remind me what it means to be alive.”

Joel closed the space until he brushed his chest to yours, the tool belt clinking as it knocked against your thigh. “You talkin’ dangerous, darlin’. A woman sayin’ things like that to a man like me… she’s beggin’ to get more than she bargained for.”

You felt the heat starting to pool slowly between your thighs.“Maybe that’s exactly what I want, Mr. Miller. Maybe I’m tired of being disappointed.”

Joel whispered almost to himself, “Goddamn… you’re somethin’ else.” Then, louder, in character again: “Well, ma’am, sounds like what you need ain’t new counters or a fancy sink. Sounds like you need a man who’ll… remodel somethin’ else.”

Your breath hitched. “And what would you suggest, Mr. Contractor?”

“First thing I’d do is bend you over this counter. See if it’s sturdy enough to take a good poundin’.” Your whole body shivered. Joel pulled back, smirking at the look on your face. “Maybe it’s time somebody shows you what real satisfaction feels like. What it’s like to be fucked by a man who knows how to use what he has.”

You clutched his shirt collar, playing your role perfectly. “Mr. Miller, you don’t know how much I want to… but this is so inappropriate… What if my husband—”

“Your husband ain’t here,” Joel cut you off. “You just said it yourself, he don’t notice you. Don’t touch you. Hell, from the way you’re lookin’ at me, I reckon he don’t even know what to do with a woman like you. But I do.”

His words made you shiver, and your slipped your robe all the way down. “So… you’d be willing to help me, Mr. Miller?”

Joel gripped your jaw with his hand, tilting your face to him. “You got no idea what you’re askin’ for, ma’am. But since you keep on beggin’…”

He slid his free hand between your thighs until he was pressing his calloused fingers against the damp lace of your panties. Feeling him so close to the part of your body that needed his attention made you gasp.

“Already wet?” Joel pushed the fabric of your underwear aside so he could drag two digits through your folds, finding you already drenched, your pussy lips slick and slippery from how aroused the man in front of you made you.

“Goddamn. Don’t take much to get you goin’, does it?” What a smug fucker, he knew damn well how quick he could make you wet for him.

Hit touch made you jerk your hips, searching for more. “He never— He never makes me like this. Never this fast.”

Joel didn’t say anything, he just slipped one finger inside you. The stretch of the digit was delicious. Joel had thick fingers, rough from so many years working with his hands, and your pussy welcomed his fingers, hugging them instantly, like it had been waiting for exactly this. “That right? Poor little wife, starvin’ for attention. No wonder you’re actin’ out.”

You let your head fall back, parting your lips as he pumped his finger deep into your greedy hole. He curled it just right, hitting that spot that made sparks shoot straight up your spine. Every part of Joel was designed to fit you perfectly. “Oh my god, Joel—”

He pulled back, giving you a sharp look and correcting you when you broke character. “Mr. Miller.” 

You whimpered, playing along. You couldn’t believe Joel was the one making you stay in character this time. “Mr. Miller… god, yes. Please. You’re already so much better than him.”

“Better than your husband?” And then slid a second finger inside you, such a big stretch, opening your little hole until you buckled your knees. You clamped your pussy down around him instantly, and the added width made your breath hitch into a helpless moan. “Say it.” He demanded you.

“Better than my husband. He never touches me like this… he doesn’t know how—fuck, Joel, you’re—” You moved your hands to his wide shoulders, clutching at them.

“Mr. Miller,” he corrected again as he worked circles over your swollen little nub, spreading more of your wetness over there to make it more slippery, teasing it just enough to make you whine. Then he bore down with real pressure, grinding ruthless motions over your pearly clit that made you tremble and squeeze his hand.

“Mr. Miller!” you squealed, half-laughing, half-pleading. “Please—please don’t stop—”

Joel had a wolfish smirk on his mouth and sweat gleaming at his temple from the effort of holding back and not shoving his cock inside you like an animal right this second. “That’s right. Contractor knows how to get the job done, huh? Knows how to use his hands.”

You writhed under his touch, grinding shamelessly against his palm, smearing your slick all over his fingers as you chased every bit of pressure he’d give you. “Yes—yes, god, you’re so much better. You’re the first man to ever—oh my god—”

“You gonna cum on my fingers, sweetheart? Right here on your fancy kitchen counter? Bet your husband’s never made you drip like this.”

You clenched your whole body around him, your thighs clamping his wrist and your pussy squeezing his fingers. The filthy words, and seeing how into the roleplay Joel was, pushed you closer to the edge. “Never… never—he doesn’t even try—”

Joel scissored his digits deep inside you, driving them up until he pressed hard against your cervix, the blunt pressure making you jolt. He kept the rubs on your clit the whole time, flicking it in bursts that left you gasping under the double assault.

“Then it’s a damn shame he left his wife for me to handle. ‘Cause I’m about to make you cum so hard you won’t even remember his name.”

Your cry ripped straight out of your throat, convulsing as pleasure slammed through you, so intense it wouldn’t stop burning. You trembled violently while he kept his hand on you, grinding his fingers and thumb through every pulsing wave he dragged out of your shaking body.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, coated and glistening in your arousal, then he brought them straight to his mouth, sucking them in with a satisfied groan. He kept his eyes locked on yours the whole time as he tasted you, savouring every slick trace like the salty flavour he could never get enough of.

“Sweetest thing I ever tasted.” He took his now clean fingers out of his mouth with a wet “pop” sound . “And I ain’t even started remodelin’ you yet.”

You didn’t give yourself a single second to recover. You turned around in a rush, bending over the counter with your chest pressed flat to the cool surface, parting your legs just enough to show him everything. Your pussy was swollen and shining, the lips all puffy and slick, offered up to him like you were begging to be taken exactly the way he wanted.

You arched your back more, looking at him over your shoulder with a wicked grin. “You’re the one who said you know how to use your hands. Now show me what else you can do, Mr. Miller.”

Joel fumbled with his belt like a man possessed, his hands were shaking, and it only made him more angry and impatient to finally feel the heath of your cunt wrapped around him. Like a wild animal, he shove his jeans down just far enough to free his cock. He wasn’t about to waste a damn second, not with you bent over for him, with your cunt swollen and dripping, practically begging to be filled.

His veiny cock was already smeared with pre-cum, sticky at the tip. It always happened when he took his time with you, when he fingered you open first, or when he buried his tongue in you until you were shaking. He ended up covered in pre, so much it looked like he’d cum already. You just wound him up too easily and too fast.

He wrapped a hand around the base, not even bothering with some teasing strokes first. He just guided himself to your hole, nudging the fat and flushed head to your soaked slit. He pressed it lightly to your entrance, and then dragged it slowly through your folds, up and down, parting your folds with the broad crown of his cock, teasing you just because he loved hearing you whine and squirm, but also testing how ready you were for him, he knew his cock was a big stretch, and the last thing he’d want is for you to hurt, still he always found you open and ready to take him.

“Goddamn, you’re drippin’. Bet he’s never even seen you like this, has he? Too busy ignorin’ his wife.”

You whined, pushing back against him, you needed to feel the burning sensation of his cock splitting you open. “He doesn’t even try. Doesn’t touch me, doesn’t care—” You gasped the moment Joel pushed the first inch inside you, stretching you wide around him, the blunt pressure was forcing a helpless sound out of your throat as you tried to pull him even deeper.“—But you, Mr. Miller… oh god, you feel so big.”

And Joel did exactly what you needed, he pushed in deeper, forcing his cock through your clutching heat inch by inch until he had every last bit of himself finally buried inside you, pressing his hips flush to your ass. He was fighting not to lose control right then and there.

You scraped your nails on the granite. “Harder. Fuck me harder, Mr. Miller. I can take it.”

Joel yanked his hips back until only the head remained inside your heat, and proceeded to slam forward until he was balls-deep into you again, pushing you forward onto the counter with every brutal stroke. “Pushy little wife, givin’ orders to the man doin’ all the fuckin’ work.” He held you exactly where he wanted you while he kept hitting the tip of his cock against the same spongy spot over and over. “But hell—” he thrusted harder, “if that’s what you want…”

You cried out. “Yes! Yes, that’s what I want—fuck me like he never does, Mr. Miller. Please!”

He pressed his chest to your back so he could whisper against your ear. “Your husband ain’t got a clue, does he? Leavin’ a woman like you unsatisfied. But I know. I know exactly how to fuck you.”

Every thrust bounced your body, making you rub your stiff nipples against the cold marble, adding to the mix of sensations in your body. “Yes—yes—you’re so much better. You’re the only one who knows how to use me.”

Joel slid his hand up your back, into your hair to yank your head up. “Say that again. Say it real slow and clear f‘me.”

“You’re better than him. My husband’s useless—he never fucks me like this. You’re the real man, Mr. Miller. The only one who can give me what I need.”

He responded to you by hammering his cock even deeper, battering your insides as if he couldn’t get enough. Joel moved his grip from your hair to your chest, engulfing your tits as he squeezed your flesh hard, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers until they ached from the assault. He snaked his other hand around your waist, and lower, finding your clit with certainty so he could rub fast circles that matched the pace of his hips.

“Fuckin’ shameless. Beggin’ your contractor to ruin you. And look at you… soakin’ my cock like you were made for it.” He looked down at the place where his member disappeared, swallowed by your hungry cunt. You were creaming on his cock, leaving white rings all over his shaft that only made him even more feral.

The imminent climax was barreling down on you fast, and so you pushed your ass back against him to fuck yourself on him. “Harder—harder, Mr. Miller, don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

Joel obeyed, grinding his thumb over your clit like there was no tomorrow, so fast he was sure he was gonna leave your shiny nub burning and completely overstimulated. “Cum for me, darlin’. Cum all over this cock. Contractor wants to see what kind of mess this pussy makes.”

A scream ripped through the kitchen as you came hard, clenching your walls tightly around him. Joel kept fucking you straight through the aftershocks, getting desperate, snapping his hips and heavy balls against your ass in uneven slams until he finally buried himself to the hilt, spilling his hot cum, pulse after pulse, filling you so completely you felt the warmth bloom through your womb.

He collapsed against your back, keeping his dick buried deep inside you, softening but his erection not fully gone yet. “Jesus Christ, darlin’… what the hell you doin’ to me? Contractor ain’t supposed to work this hard.”

But you weren’t done. Not even close. The high of your orgasm thrummed in your veins, but beneath it was still an ache. You shifted under him, pulling away from the counter, slipping his cock halfway out. Joel tried to steady himself. “Wait—hold up—”

You turned to watch the tired look on his face. “I told you, Mr. Miller. My husband hasn’t satisfied me in years. You think one good fuck is gonna fix years of being neglected just like that?”

“Darlin’, I just—You’re not really neglected and I— hell, I just filled you—”

You didn’t care, because you knew Joel could take it. And so, you shoved him into one of the kitchen chairs, straddling his lap before he could protest. You slid his cock, wet with a mix of his creamy cum and your arousal from the first round, right back inside you with a lewd squelch. 

“Jesus, fuck! Too much—” He felt too much sensitivity on his cock, the burning made him feel like the red tip was on fire, every dragging velvet ripple of your walls over him, each pulse was multiplied until it felt like your pussy was devouring every last nerve he had left.

“Not enough,” you cut him off as you sank to the hilt. “Not nearly enough, Mr. Miller. You don’t know how starved I’ve been. I’m not done until I say I’m done.” It was as if the character of the lonely housewife had taken over you, and you could feel the desperation as if it was your own.

Joel gripped your waist with bruising force like he was trying to ground himself and slow you down. “Sweetheart—fuck—slow down, I just came—”

Maybe in his twenties he would’ve been fresh as a lettuce, ready to go again without blinking. But now, late forties, not so much. He could still fuck you like a champ with multiple rounds, but after a release like that? Fuck, he needed a second not to feel like his cock was being strangled and set on fire at the same time. But damn it, if he didn’t love it when you acted like a wild little cat, pushing him to give you more, so desperate and greedy for every inch he had to give. It made him want to pin you down and feed you exactly what you were begging for, no matter how sensitive he was or how hard he’d just came.

You lifted your hips and slammed back down on him, riding him with ferocity. Joel squeezed his eyes shut, allowing you to do anything you wanted with his body, overstimulated and trapped in your slick and gripping heat.

“Goddamn woman, you’re—fuck—you’re gonna kill me,” he was breaking as you bounced on him as if you were at the rodeo. “Ain’t right—too sensitive—”

You grabbed his face to force his eyes open. “Look at me. Look at the wife her husband forgot about. Look at how much better you are than him. You’re the only one who can fuck me like this, Mr. Miller. You hear me?”

“I hear you, darlin’. Loud and clear. Fuck—you’re squeezin’ me too tight—”

Joel wanted to reach out and grab your bouncing tits, play with your nipples, but his body didn’t respond to him. He was a mess under you. “Harder,” you demanded. “Grab me harder. Don’t you dare hold back.”

He was overwhelmed to the point of shaking, but still powerless to stop you. Joel clamped his hands down on your ass, digging in hard as he tried to control the chaos of your pace. Every time you dropped down on him, he cried out and jerked his pelvis up involuntarily to meet your lethal rhythm. He felt his member pulsing inside you, and suddenly he was fighting not to cum again so fast. “Shit—shit! I can’t… gonna—”

“Don’t you dare finish yet,” you snapped through your moans. “You’ll give me every inch, every drop. I’m not starving anymore.”

Joel was caught between agony and ecstasy. “God almighty, you’re insatiable… fuckin’ insatiable—”

You made sure to ground your clit against his pubic bone with every slam. The overstimulation of him inside you was pushing you higher and higher, until you broke, cumming hard all over him again. You soaked his thighs with the juices that gushed out of you, milking his cock, aching for another one of his big and thick loads, those that made you feel warm all over your lower belly, knowing he was painting your womb and insides in white.

“Fuck, darlin’, I—” Joel cracked, and he came for the second time tonight, helpless against the force of his release, seizing as he spilt warm ropes of his seed inside you again. He was overstimulated to hell, but he couldn’t stop pumping you full until there was more than your tight little hole could even hold, until he was sure he’d emptied his balls.

His cum overflowed almost instantly, so sticky, dripping down his balls in pearly trails. You clenched around him, trying to keep it all in, but it was useless. Between the first load and this one, you were far too full, and his seed pushed out around his still-buried cock in messy streams, coating both of you in a milky spill.

Still, you didn’t stop. You rode out every shudder until Joel was holding you like his life depended on it, gasping into your neck. Finally, after a couple of minutes, you slowed and collapsed against his chest. He instantly wrapped his arms tight around you, splaying one hand across your damp back, still gripping your hip like he wasn’t quite ready to let go with the other. Every tiny movement of his softening cock inside you made him wince.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’,” he scratched his stubble against your temple, pressing his face there. “You’re tryin’ to kill me. That’s what this is. Not roleplay, goddamn homicide.”

You laughed against his neck. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Joel huffed, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if he should kill you or kiss you senseless for being the best girlfriend a man could ask for. “Sweetheart, I came twice in a span of fifteen minutes. Twice. You damn near rode the soul outta me.”

You smiled, but your arms wound tighter around his shoulders, melting against his. “And you loved every second.”

Joel rested his forehead against yours. “Yeah. I loved it. Don’t mean I ain’t walkin’ funny tomorrow.”

You laughed again, softer this time, kissing the corner of his mouth. His lips chased yours lazily, pressing a lingering kiss to your jaw, then another to your cheek. He sighed into your skin, smoothing his rough palms over your back in long strokes like he was trying to calm both of you down.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet. “You get so into it.”

“Into what?” you traced lazy patterns on his chest with your fingers.

“This roleplay stuff,” he said, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Nurse… contractor. Hell, I thought I’d feel stupid as hell, but you just… you dive right in. Don’t even hesitate. You make it feel real.”

You kissed his collarbone, feeling your lips curve against his skin. “That’s the fun of it. I get to play someone else for a while. And you…” You lifted your head, catching his eyes. “You get to let go a little.”

Joel studied you, brushing your damp hair off your face. “Maybe I do.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Of course you do. Look at you today, you nailed it. The whole ‘’m gonna give ya what’cha husband can’t’ act?” you added, slipping into a playful imitation of his drawl, exaggerating his accent just enough to tease him. “Was spot on.”

Joel chuckled. “Yeah, well. Don’t get too excited. ’m too old to be fuckin’ like this on a counter, sweetheart. My back’s gonna be talkin’ to me all week.”

You laughed softly, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Guess we’re gonna have to call a chiropractor so she can pay you a visit soon. Lucky for you I know a good one who will treat you real nice. Great hands too.”

Joel groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder with a laugh that vibrated through your chest. “You’re impossible.”

“And your life would be very boring if it wasn't for me.”

If you want some more you can read my Nurse x Patient roleplay fic with Joel

Follow my updates account @cinnxmxngxrlupdates so you won’t miss any new fics

A/N: Currently enjoying a little vacation at the beach, but I was sooo excited to write another roleplay fic so I prepared most of this waiting at the airport before my trip, and finished it here. Is there anything better than writing with the sound of waves crashing? Probably not.

Thank you so much for reading, and as always, your support means the world to me. Every comment makes me smile like a fool, you have no idea how much I appreciate it🩷🩷

[ghostlyule]

Steady Hands

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a joel miller/f! reader fanfic!

summary: when you contact a contacting company for help fixing up your father’s run-down apartment, the miller brothers show up.

warnings! age gap relationship. two consenting adults! 20s & 50s. implied abuse. mentions of abuse. mentions of alcohol and substance abuse. daddy issues. joel calls the reader ‘kid’ occasionally. implied plus size reader.

author’s note! this is the first joel fic i’ve ever written & posted. lemme know if you enjoyed it & wanna see more! ALSO, this is just part 1 ! i plan to continue it w/ a part 2 soon !

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

“I’ll have the repairs done in a few weeks. Tommy’ll come by later with the quote.”

The contractor’s voice was rough, lingering in the cold air between you and your father. You’d been standing by the staircase for an hour now, observing, watching him try his best to appear sober.

He wasn’t.

You could smell the lingering scent of liquor on your father’s breath, the same cheap, cinnamon whiskey that he hid behind the milk jug in the fridge, hoping that you wouldn’t notice it when you visited. You always did.

Your father nodded his head, leaning up to steady himself back against the wall. You watched as he attempted to maintain the conversation, and you weren’t entirely sure if the contractor was aware of your father’s drunken state. He was stone-faced, brows furrowed, fingers clutching the handle of his toolbox – but he’d been like that since he’d arrived. He’d observed the wrecked apartment in silence, not overly thrilled to interact, though it wasn’t like you’d really tried.

You’d kept to yourself for the most part, lingering by the staircase, or watching through one of the open windows. You were only here for a few hours, just to pay the contractors and ensure that they did the right work on your father’s run-down apartment. It wasn’t like you could trust him to manage things himself. He could barely stand at this point, still reeling from reaching the bottom of the bottle just a few minutes before Miller had shown up.

The apartment was in a state of near ruin. Floorboards creaked, wires askew, holes in nearly every wall, damaged from the impact of glass bottles. After your mother left him, he’d let himself go to shit, and his living space was no exception.

Now, it was your responsibility to keep him in check.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried. You’d begged him countless times to seek help, to visit a recovery center and detox. His love for liquor far outweighed his love for you, though that was nothing new. It had been this way for as long as you could remember. You still weren’t entirely sure why you stuck around.

“You can bill me,” you mumbled, after a moment of quiet contemplation. It was the first time you’d really spoken to the contractor since he’d arrived. “I’m the one paying for the services.”

His gaze flickered to you as you spoke, brows furrowed as he took you in. You watched his jaw tighten, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d irritated him.

“Alright,” he rasped, after a moment. “If you’ll follow me outside, miss, I’ll get your info.”

You nodded your head, taking a step forward as you ignored your father’s drunken, meaningless ‘thank you’ behind you. You kept quiet, letting the screen door slam shut as you followed the contractor out into the winter air, the cold nipping at your cheeks.

As you followed him, your gaze lingered on the back of his shirt. It was a deep brown, adorned with beige lettering, which read: “Miller Bros. Contracting: Joel & Tommy Miller.”

For a moment, you felt bold – bolder than you typically were.

“Are you Tommy or Joel?” You asked, hands shoved into the pockets of your slightly oversized coat.

The contractor stopped in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder at you. The grey in his dark hair was far more visible in the natural light, the short waves a bit disheveled from work.

“‘Scuse me?” He rasped, raising a brow at you.

“Which one are you?” You asked him again, simply. The contractor paused, a look of amusement sweeping over his tired features.

“Joel,” he replied, turning his shoulders to fully face you. “Tommy’s my brother.”

You nodded your head, unsure what to say now that he was looking directly at you.

Joel examined you for a moment, his tense features softening for a moment. A look of amusement flashed in his dark eyes, though it quickly shifted into rough concern as he contemplated your situation.

“You’re really payin’ for this?” He asked. “It ain’t gonna be cheap. Your daddy’s house is a wreck.”

“Yeah,” you replied, straightening your posture. “Yeah, I’m paying for it. Dad doesn’t have the money to, anyway.”

Joel studied you for a moment, his shoulders tensing. “I don’t know what it’s gonna cost exactly,” he muttered. “But you’re lookin’ at a bill of about $700.”

“Seven-hundred?” You echoed, eyes wide. Your heart sank at the number, your fingers flexing subconsciously in the pockets of your coat. That number was more than you had in your savings and cash combined right now. For a moment, you swore you felt dizzy.

Joel stood before you, a bit awkwardly, as he watched your cheeks flush with frustration. He could see the way your hands had clenched into fists, beneath the fabric of your coat.

“I– I’m in college, Joel – or, Mr. Miller,” you corrected yourself quickly. “Seriously. I’m about to graduate. I don’t have that kind of money right now. I can’t even afford to move out.”

He was silent as he watched you, and you refused to look up at him. If you saw a pair of judgmental eyes staring back at you, you were certain the tears welling up in your eyes would spill over. You couldn’t risk it.

“No little girl should be payin’ her daddy’s bills,” Joel replied, drawing your attention back to him. “Ain’t right.”

You sniffled, your hands trembling. “I’m a grown woman. I have a job. I can pay it eventually, I just need some time–”

“No,” Joel mumbled, with a wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter how much money you have. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s not right.”

Unsure what to say, you stood before him, silent. You watched as he dug into the pocket of his jeans, digging out a little notepad. Plucking his pen from his shirt pocket, he began to scribble on the small slip of paper.

“Here,” he mumbled. “When Tommy comes by, you give him this. Tell him Joel said he was gonna take care of it.”

Your eyes went wide, mouth agape. “Seriously?” You glanced down at the little piece of paper in his hand, finding yourself unable to reach out and take it. You weren’t used to handouts like this, and you were entirely unsure how to accept the help.

“Go on,” Joel spoke, his voice softer now, like you were a wounded, stray animal. “You can take it.”

With hesitant movement, you reached out, fingers trembling as they wrapped around the small slip of paper. He gave a nod, as if reassuring you, watching as you slid it into your coat pocket.

“Good,” Joel replied. “I’ll send Tommy by later, then.”

You watched as he turned towards his truck, taking large, heavy steps as the wind nipped at the exposed skin of his arms. For a moment, you were utterly dumbfounded, unable to speak. Before he could get too far away from you, you finally opened your mouth.

“Um,” you mumbled. “Thank you!” You called after him, though it was already too late. He’d already turned the key in the ignition, the truck roaring to life as it started up.

With that, he was off, leaving you with an unfamiliar warmth in your chest.

The next few days passed quickly, and you found yourself frequently thinking about Joel. On your way to class, you found yourself listening to a few of the songs you’d found on the old CDs in his truck. When you weren’t listening to music that reminded you of him, you were thinking about him — the old scars that covered his forearms, from years of fights and handiwork, to his dark eyes that seemed to soften as he looked at you, whether he realized it or not.

His brother – Tommy, you remembered – had dropped by later that evening to hand over the bill, just as expected.

You recalled the words he’d said, brows furrowed in confusion as he read over the small slip of paper Joel had requested you give to him.

“You’re kiddin’ me,” he’d mumbled. “Doesn’t sound like Joel at all. He must’ve really liked you, kid.” Tommy had mused, glancing up from the paper.

“I don’t think it’s that,” you’d replied, your voice soft. “I barely spoke to him. I think he just… pitied me.” You’d mumbled, under your breath.

“Pity or not, you got a helluva deal out of us,” Tommy had shrugged, folding up the paper to slip it back into his pocket. “One of us will get in contact with you soon about the repairs. You live here?”

“Yeah. I mean, kinda. Do I need to be here?” You’d replied.

“We just like to work in the presence of whoever’s payin’,” he’d mumbled. “Keeps things clean. Nobody can come back and say we didn’t actually do our job.”

“Makes sense,” you’d replied, your voice a bit softer. “I’ll… I’ll make sure I’m here, then.”

That was what brought you here, sitting on the steps, as Joel replaced a few loose boards on the back deck. You watched as he worked, wiping the sweat from his forehead. His muscles strained against his shoulders and back, fingers clutching the tool in his hand — one you were entirely unfamiliar with.

“Do you like what you do?” You asked, after a long period of watching him in silence.

Joel glanced up at you, raising a brow.

“I reckon,” he mumbled roughly, leaning back to take a break from tightening screws for a moment. “You’re a strange little lady, y’know that?”

“Strange?” You tilted your head to the side, curiously.

“Yeah,” he replied, roughly. “Strange.”

“How so?” You asked, leaning forward to rest your cheek in your palm.

You’d heard it before, the word “strange” used to describe you. You were quiet, often kept to yourself, and rarely spoke unless it was expected of you. It was a defense mechanism you’d developed over the years, though in the presence of Joel, you began to feel a little more bold. You weren’t frightened of him like you were with most men his age.

In fact, you’d grown to enjoy pestering him while he worked.

Joel hummed, leaning back to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Just never met anyone like ya, kid,” he mused, his brows furrowing as he examined the wooden boards of the staircase, still a bit loose. “Dammit. That screw should’a been enough to tighten that.”

You leaned over then, watching as Joel leaned back to stretch. His muscles strained against the fabric of his t-shirt – not too toned, just enough to showcase his strength. Being an older man who earned his muscles through hard labor rather than weight-lifting, his strength was clear, but his muscles were never very defined.

Blinking a few times, you sat up straighter.

“Do I have to sit here and watch you the entire time?” You asked, recalling Tommy’s statement. “Tommy said—”

“No. And I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” he mumbled, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Your lil eyes on me are makin’ me nervous.”

You managed a snort of amusement. “Little? Y’know, I’m twenty-one years old,” you replied, swinging your legs as you sat atop the railing of the staircase. “I’m a grown woman.”

“Maybe,” he half-grinned. “But I’m an old man, sweetheart. You’re young to me.”

“I don’t think you’re that old,” you offered, tilting your head to the side. “I think you’re just… experienced.”

Joel shook his head. “Experienced, huh?” He mused. “Wow. Really flattering me now, darlin’.” He replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and amusement.

“I wouldn’t lie.” You replied, glancing up to meet his gaze. His brows twitched, as if forcing himself not to look down at you.

“Uh-huh,” Joel replied, trying to keep himself in check. His chest was growing tight, cheeks slightly flushed beneath the scars and lines on his face. “Make yourself useful and hand me that wrench, will ya?”

“Mhhm.” You mumbled, reaching over to dig the long, golden wrench out of his toolbox, slightly rusted with age. You slid it over, before hopping up onto the railing of the staircase, glancing down at him with interest.

As days passed, you began to look forward to Joel’s visits. He’d arrive at the house methodically, taking advantage of every moment your father left for work. He swore it was for efficiency, but you began to question if he simply just wanted to be alone with you, without the interruption of your father’s presence.

One evening, as dark grey clouds rolled in the sky overhead, Joel was finishing up a few last-minute renovations on your father’s back deck. You emerged from the back door, pitcher in hand as the wind played at your hair.

“Tea?” You offered, your voice warm.

Joel leaned up, raising a brow.

“Sweet?” He grunted, hands on his hips.

“Of course it’s sweet,” you smiled, hopping down from the back porch to approach him. “Who do you think I am?”

“Atta girl,” he mumbled, reaching out gratefully as you poured him a glass. “Thanks, doll.”

“Doll?” You echoed, glancing up to meet his gaze.

“Yeah. Pretty like a doll. Might as well call ya one.” Joel mumbled, taking a sip of the sweet tea in his glass. It was cold, soothing the back of his parched throat as he gulped it down.

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked, a bit stunned by the confession. He gave you a sideways glance, as if he hadn’t expected you to be so uncertain.

“Surprised by that?” Joel asked, raising a brow. “Figured you heard that often enough for it to be no big deal.”

Your heart stuttered forward in your chest. You’d heard it a few times, of course, but never in the way that Joel had said it. He spoke like you were a prized possession, something beautiful and rare.

Before you could come up with a response, he spoke again. “You make damn good tea.”

“Do I?” You replied, perking up a bit. Praise from Joel was the greatest feeling in the world.

“Mhm,” Joel hummed, his gaze absentmindedly traveling to the heap of wood lying on the grass beside him. “Might have to hire you to stand in my kitchen and make tea for me all day.”

You leaned forward then, resting your hands on the edge of the railing. “You wouldn’t have to pay me. I’d do it for free.” You hummed, almost proudly. Your reaction drew a deep, rough chuckle from Joel.

As his gaze trailed up the backside of your father’s house – still incredibly worn-down and neglected – his expression sobered. There had been a few thoughts on his mind lately that troubled him, particularly involving you and your father’s relationship. Something about it didn’t sit right with him.

“Hey, kid,” he mumbled, his gaze shifting back towards you after a moment. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

You nodded your head, silently giving Joel your full attention.

“Your… father,” He mumbled, saying the word hesitantly. “When he leaves during the day, where the hell is he goin’?”

“Work,” you replied, absentmindedly fidgeting with a loose thread on your dress. “He works at a factory in the city. I’m not really sure what he does there.”

“And what happens when he gets home?” Joel pressed, his voice a bit lower. “You’ve never let me stick around long enough to find out.”

“You know what happens,” you replied sharply, your voice a bit harsher than intended. “He starts drinking the moment he gets home. It’s just not something I really want you to deal with. I only stick around to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

“That’s not your job. Your old man should be able to fend for himself,” Joel replied, brows furrowed. It clearly troubled him. “And I don’t think you’re bein’ completely honest with me, doll.”

His concern, although appreciated, was sending waves of anxiety through you. It was as if your brain was on fire, unable to process the feeling of being truly cared for. You found yourself snapping before you could stop yourself.

“Goddamn, Joel, can you back off?” You hissed, before you could stop it. “I’m a grown woman. I can handle things myself.”

“Can you?” Joel replied immediately, his tone stern. He took a step towards you, his gaze narrowing as he took you in. “What the hell is that on your arm?”

You froze, immediately straightening your posture. Your eyes went wide as you realized that Joel had seen it, the large, round bruise on your forearm, angry and purple. The bruise was still fresh, and Joel could tell. You reflexively tugged your sleeve down.

Before you could think of an excuse, Joel was already speaking again.

“Don’t lie to me,” he prompted. “Show me your arm.”

“Like hell,” you muttered, your hand resting over your arm protectively. “I don’t need you doting on me. I’m fine.”

Joel took another step towards you. He looked angry, but his anger clearly wasn’t directed at you. You knew that Joel would never hurt you, even if he was angry. It was a feeling you weren’t used to, not having to be defensive.

Looking into Joel’s eyes, dark with concern and anger, you began to feel like a young girl again. Your chest grew tight, and you suddenly found that you’d do anything to make Joel proud of you again. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his disappointed gaze.

Glancing down, you finally gave in.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your voice gentle now. “Sorry, Joel. I didn’t mean to snap…”

“Hey,” he rasped, his calloused fingers finding your chin, gently guiding your gaze up to look at him. “Listen to me, doll. I don’t want you hangin’ around this house anymore when I’m not here. I know it ain’t really my place to give you orders like that, but… I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt by your old man.” He mumbled, his voice firm, though it still held a gentleness that was reserved for you.

“What am I supposed to do when you’re not here, then? I sleep here every night. I’m not exactly in any position to get my own place…” You trailed off, your head reeling. If you had the ability, you would’ve moved out long ago.

Joel’s expression shifted, brows furrowed.

“Then you call me,” he muttered. “Next time your old man acts up, you call me, and I’ll be here in minutes. Understand me?”

You straightened your posture then. No man had ever spoken to you in such a way, requesting obedience but also truly concerned for you. You found yourself not entirely hating it, despite your earlier protests that you didn’t need it.

“I understand.” You mumbled, under your breath.

“Atta girl,” Joel replied, digging into the pocket of his brown jacket. He fished out a small slip of paper, tugging the pen from behind his ear to begin scribbling on it. “You have my number, don’t ya?”

“What is this?” You asked, curiously accepting the little slip of paper as it was handed to you.

“My home address,” Joel explained, tucking the pen back behind his ear. “You show up there if I don’t answer, you hear me? If you need me and I’m not there, you can sneak in the window.”

Your eyes went wide. There was something genuine in the way he looked at you, with concern and no hint of malice. He was extending a lifeline to you when you needed it, and though you were unsure how to accept it, you attempted to do your best.

“Okay,” you rasped, finally, pocketing the small note. “Thank you.”

An unfamiliar warmth spread through your chest, a feeling you’d never felt before. Receiving such care from a man Joel’s age, who wanted to help you rather than hurt you, was utterly foreign to you.

As he packed his tools and hauled them into his truck that night, you found yourself watching from the window, gaze fixed on the way his shirt strained against his muscles as he slammed the door of the truck bed shut. Your heart raced, pounding desperately in your chest, as if trying to break its way out to get to him.

You mentally cursed yourself for the pang of longing you felt as you watched his truck sputter down the driveway.

[snifsnouf-art]

Joel trimming his beard 👀✨

[elliespuns]

Joel Miller is pure, uncut sexuality

[xbeababyx]

Top dilf of the year…well ,we know why.

[skintyfiia]

peepaw joel

tlou is literally all i think about these days

[beoperolover]

Fav gif #103

[aurorawritestoescape]

BLAST FROM THE PAST

ex husband!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: to your dismay you run into your hot ex husband at a supermarket parking lot and at first glance it seems that Joel just wants to chat but as you two are sharing memories of the past life, you realize that talking isn’t the only thing on his mind.

Tw: +18, mdni, smut, a touch of angst but we don’t dwell on it, non outbreak au, Joel’s a sexy asshole, mention of Joel x reader x Tommy, mention of mfm, reader is pissed at Joel, implied infidelity, hate fucking, one use of ‘daddy’, public but not caught, f!oral, pussy slapping (1), cum eating, piv, degradation kink, praise kink, swearing.

Word count: 2,8k

A/n: I saw this post by @cupofzo last week, got feral/inspired and wrote this story. Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and helping me when I got stuck💋 Pedro edits in the mb by @/romina’s blog on Pinterest. Dividers by @strangergraphics 💞

MASTERLIST

Fuck!

You duck down behind an open trunk of your car in a supermarket parking lot and quickly push your grocery bags inside. Hopefully Joel hasn’t noticed you. He never noticed shit anyway — your bad mood, your worries, your heartbreak. It’s one of the reasons he’s your ex husband now.

Apparently Joel’s ‘go to’ shopping item hasn’t changed, you think and shake your head, seeing him load packs of beer into his car. You’re frozen on the spot, trying not to attract your ex’s attention, but to your dismay the fucker turns around and heads into your direction.

Shit! You curse under your breath, straighten up and watch him stride towards you with his usual ‘I know I’m hot’ attitude, confidence in every step. They call it ‘Big dick energy’. The worst part is that he really IS that hot. And he IS hung. It’s a pity that such a nice cock is attached to a total prick.

There’s no point in hiding now so you slam the trunk shut and greet the approaching man with the fakest smile you could pull.

“Heyyyy,” you sing in a high pitched voice you know he hates. Not taking his sunglasses off, Joel nods at you, his plush lips spread in a lopsided smile. He’s leisurely chewing a gum and your gaze slides along his scruffy jaw which is flexing in such a sexy way you get mesmerized by the sight. It’s doing something unexplainable to you but you quickly remind yourself who you’re dealing with. It’s Joel. It’s your past. The past that hurt you.

Your pussy gives no fucks though and your panties dumpen exponentially the longer you’re looking at your ex. Ugh! A traitor!

“Good to see you, baby,” Joel smirks, stopping in front of you and shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.

Don’t stare at his forearms, you beg the horny goblin inside you but it’s impossible not to take a peek at them with his sleeves rolled up, so you treat yourself before hastily lifting your gaze up to his covered eyes.

“Can’t say the same,” you throw, not smiling anymore.

Joel sneers and when you try to walk past him he steps to the side, not letting you leave, and coos, his arms open to you,

“Talk to me, beautiful. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“We met at Jessy’s party,” you grumble and he nods,

“Yeah but we barely shared a few words.”

“That's how I like it,” you bite, ready to tell him to fuck off but Joel takes his sunglasses off and stares at you with those puppy eyes of his. They used to work on you months ago. Now… not so much.

“Drop the shit, Joel. I bet you have enough babes to talk to.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and raise your brow, expecting him to act all innocent, to deny the fact that he’s a total slut. But Joel doesn’t do any of it. Instead he gives you a cheeky smile and changes the topic.

“Whatcha doin’ here, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes.

“What d’you think? Grocery shopping.”

Joel slowly nods, still chewing his gum, not tearing his eyes off you even for a second.

“Me, too. Got some stuff for tonight. Havin’ the boys over.”

Yeah, that would explain all the beer, you think.

You squint your eyes and your lips tighten at the mention of his ‘boys’, a group of his fellow pricks who surely call you a bitch every chance they get.

As if reading your mind Joel says, his head titled,

“They miss you by the way.”

You laugh exaggeratedly,

“Yeah, right!”

Joel shifts his jaw and then steps closer to you. He puts his big hand on your waist between your shirt and your jeans, and your heart skips a beat as you feel his hot palm on your exposed skin there.

“Tommy still talks about that night the three of us had. Remember?”

Joel’s eyes darken, he’s watching you closely, and you hate to give him any reaction but your whole body tingles and your chest starts heaving when images from that drunken night pop into your mind — you’re riding Joel, Tommy's fucking your mouth; they both eating you out, taking their turn to lap at your pussy, their spit mixing on your drenched clit and folds.

Trying to shake off the horny fog in your head, you avert your eyes from Joel and stare at a big supermarket sign.

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, feigning nonchalance. “We were drunk.”

“The next morning we weren’t,” Joel reminds you with a playful smile.

You shift on your feet, an ache in your pussy getting harder to ignore. That lazy morning fuck was great. Waking up between your husband and your brother-in-law, with their arms wrapped around you. Both fighting for your attention, for your holes, they made you come hard on their cocks and tongues. That was the last time you let Tommy join Joel and you in your marital bed. Scared of things getting too complicated you stopped it. Who knew that Joel would ruin it all anyway.

Joel watches you intently, surely knowing that you’re wet now. He could always smell it on you like a shark smells blood in the water. Joel gently squeezes your side and muses,

“We used to have lots of fun.. you and I. Were so damn good together.”

His voice is soft, full of nostalgia and…sadness? Suddenly his tone makes your blood boil and you finally look at him, your eyes fiery again.

“We were. Until you fucked everything up.”

You’re glaring at him and Joel drops his head, his hand leaving your side.

“Yeah… I did.”

He takes a deep sigh and you want to punch him. Your cold eyes are set on your ex and your wounded heart craves to see him crushed, miserable, regretful. You want him to beg for your forgiveness for the rest of his life.

But it’s Joel.

He doesn’t wallow in negativity for long, and instead of welling up with tears like you want them to, his eyes start slowly sliding up your body. They linger on your cleavage for a moment before reaching your face.

“You’re fuckin hot, baby.”

After years of knowing the man, you’re still shocked by his head-spinning mood change. A second ago he looked like a kicked puppy and now all he wants is to hump your leg.

You laugh bitterly, dropping your arms at the sides.

“Jesus, Joel, you’re something else.”

He mistakes your reaction for a genuine joy and chuckles,

“Yeah, you ain’t wrong, sweetheart.”

You’re shaking your head and then lift your eyes to the sky, not believing that you let your pussy choose a husband for you years ago, having ignored all the red flags.

Joel doesn’t let it go.

“I’m not fuckin’ with you, hon,” he purrs. “You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever fucked.”

You tilt your head and sigh.

“Joel, stop it. Please.”

“No, listen,” he rises his hands, palms to you, and with his eyes big and dark says,

“No one, I repeat, no one made me as hard as you did.”

“Yay me,” you deadpan.

“It’s the truth,” he says, his expression serious.

“‘K,” you shrug. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah, yeah” Joel nods. “I blew it, I know. But the taste …” he inhales through his teeth and you frown.

“What?”

Joel’s hand snakes behind you and he puts it on your lower back before leaning in and whispering in your ear,

“Your pussy.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You slap his chest, your hand hitting his strong pecs.

“I’m serious. Your taste, baby.. it’s like I had to quit smokin’. I can’t stop thinkin’ about it. Sometimes..,” he moves close and his lips brush your ear as he murmurs, “Sometimes I still feel it on my tongue. Soft, hot… delicious. Your perfect pussy. Ahhhh… Miss it so goddamn much.”

You HATE me o admit it but whatever he’s doing is actually working. You’re a mess, getting dangerously horny and needy. Joel could always turn you on from 1 to 100 in seconds and he’s doing it now, months from your divorce.

With his body close to yours, your heartbeat increases and you’re breathing fast, enveloped by his smell, by the heat of his body.

“Joel, stop,” you beg him but he doesn’t.

He tilts his head, his eyes meeting yours and gruffs,

“Would give the world to have it on my tongue again. Wanna drink from your hole.”

You’re feeling light-headed as Joel takes your earlobe in his mouth and sucks on it lightly.

“I hate you…” you breathe out and moan when he presses his strong body to yours, his arms snaking around your torso. It’s hard to think straight when he’s doing this and you pussy purrs, ‘Maybe .. he could … just a little … just to make you come …’

“Let me kiss her… one last time…”

Not waiting for you to answer, Joel takes your hand and heads to his car. You’re following him across the parking lot like a damn dog, head dizzy, mouth salivating, pussy wet.

If someone told you this morning that you were going to let your ex husband eat you out in a supermarket parking lot, you’d laugh in their stupid face.

No way in hell!

But your pussy is full of surprises. It’s also full of Joel’s tongue right now who’s having your half lying in the back of his car, your jeans and panties on the floor, your knees pressed to your chest. Joel’s holding your legs in place with his hands, helping himself to make out with your cunt.

He’s always been a loud eater so the car is filled with lewd slurping noises and your soft moans.

“Look at ‘er cryin’ for me, baby. She missed daddy, huh?” he mumbles, his lips glistening with your slick.

You reply with a needy whimper and he smirks before pushing his tongue between your folds. Joel slowly drags it up, gathering more of your wetness on his tongue, and flicks your puffy clit with his tip. Then his hot wet muscle slides down to your empty hole and thrusts inside. Your eyes flutter close when he starts fucking you with his tongue, his thumb and his index finger holding your folds open.

“Hngggg,” Joel growls with animalistic hunger and the vibrations against your pussy send you into a frenzy. You’re biting your lip, keeping yourself from crying out loud when he starts sucking on your clit.

“Joel…” you mewl and your ex smirks.

“Fuck, missed you moanin’ my name like this. Such a good girl.”

“I hate you,” you repeat weakly and Joel chuckles and then spanks your puffy cunt making you yelp. He kisses it better immediately and begins moving his jaw up and down, while his tongue is rubbing your pussy.

A few seconds of this heavenly sensation are enough for you to unravel. Your ex happily licks off every drop of your wetness that’s flowing out of your clenching hole, humming at the taste, his eyes closed with pleasure. Joel’s tirelessly prolonging your orgasm and for a second you feel grateful.

When his tongue starts hurting you, you push Joel away and drop your legs. You’re sitting there ass naked, panting heavily, eyes shut, heart pounding in your ears.

“My turn,” you barely hear Joel speak. “C’mon, show my cock how much you missed ‘im,”

You flutter your eyes open and see Joel unzipping his jeans and pulling his hard member out. Hello, old friend. It’s reddish and engorged, leaking pre cum down the thick shaft. You still remember his taste, the heaviness of it on your tongue, the way it used to fill you so perfectly. You miss it.

‘Fuck it!’ you think, riding the high of an afterglow, and ask, “Got a condom?”

“Sure, baby!”

With his dick bobing, spilling pre fuck juice everywhere, your ex gets off the seat and reaches for the glove compartment. He rummages there for a few seconds and then plops back on the seat, holding a condom between his teeth.

Not waiting for an invitation you straddle his naked thighs, your eyes darting around the parking lot through the window.

“If we get caught…. swear I’ll kill you,” you grunt while Joel’s sliding the condom on.

As soon as he’s ready you lift your ass and sink on his big cock.

Ahhh! You missed this sensation. Joel opened you up well with his tongue but the stretch still makes you gasp. The pillow of his balls feels so nice against your spit-covered pussy, warming it up perfectly, and you sigh.

“Yeah, welcome home, baby,” Joel moans and drops his head back, his mouth open in pleasure. Squeezing your asscheeks with his big hands he breathes out, “So tight. Best pussy ever.”

Already feeling yourself on the brink of euphoria, just from having him inside, you start riding him.

“You’ve surely done your research,” you half moan half grunt, rolling your hips slowly at first, getting used to his huge dick stuffed inside you but at the back of your mind you hate that he gets to have you again.

‘Come and get the hell out,’ you tell yourself and pick up your pace.

You hate how perfectly he fills you, hate how gorgeous he looks - his dark eyes half lidded, clouded with lust, his plush wet lips are luring you in for a kiss.

You can’t. You shouldn’t. It’ll hurt too much later.

Instead of kissing Joel, you lean down and suck in the skin on his neck. Joel hisses and bucks his hips up into you, sending his cock deep to kiss your cervix.

“Baby likes it rough now, huh?” he gruffs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You leave his question without an answer and with a content smile watch a hickey bloom on the column of his neck.

Lust for him is burning your lower belly alongside your anger and it’s impossible to tell one from the other. One hand planted on his strong chest, the other flies up to his head and you run your fingers through his silky curls before tugging on them roughly.

“Could’ve had this pussy on your cock every day—,” you mutter through heavy breaths as Joel grunts. “Any time—- any moment — now all you get is a hate fuck in a parking lot..”

Joel’s eyes locked with yours gets serious and for a second you see regret behind them.

“You don’t hate me, do ya, beautiful?” He breathes out quietly. Your furrow your brows at his stupid question, tighten your fist in his hair and order,

“Shut up and make me come.”

Joel’s chest rumbles, his eyes darken, and he gets to work — his thumb finds your clit and he begins swirling it with the perfect pressure and perfect tempo.

He’s a total dick but oh god! he’s always been great at getting you off.

Still bouncing on his cock and not slowing down for a second, you lean back slightly and a moan falls from your lips when his fat crown begins massaging your soft spot.

“Yeahhh, give it to me, baby, I know you’re close. Your little clit twitches like crazy."

Joel’s encouragement makes your pussy clench and you squeeze your eyes shut as a hot wave, rising fast in your lower belly, covers you whole. Your loud cry rings in Joel’s car and you’re shaking on your ex’s lap, coming on his hard cock.

“Hnggg..That’s my g—-,” Joel chokes and stills. His arm muscles tense, his fingers dig into your asscheeks, and he begins filling the condom inside you with warm cum. You feel his dick thump deep in your core, your walls pulsating around it while your pussy is draining his balls.

As soon as you're done you get off Joel’s lap, not caring if you hurt him. Instead you smirk when he hisses and mumbles, ‘Careful, baby.’

You pick up your panties and jeans and start putting on your clothes. Sensing Joel’s eyes on you, you look at him. With his head against the backrest, his eyes sleepy, his lips in a soft smile he purrs,

“This was amazin’. We should do this again some time.”

“No,” you say as lust leaves your belly and your head clears up.

Joel pushes his lower lip out and pouts dramatically.

“Why not?”

“Fuck you that’s why,” you scoff with a smile and get out of the car.

Before leaving you bend down and ask,

“Is Jeff gonna be at yours tonight?”

Joel carefully pulls the cum-filled condom off his softening cock and frowns, gathering his thoughts for a few seconds.

“Yeah, sure. Why?”

“Well, you might ask your best friend about that time he sent me his dick pic a week after our wedding.”

“WHAT?!” Joel exclaims and drops the condom, spilling his load all over the car floor. He curses loudly as you smirk and close the door with a loud bang.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the story!

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @pascaltesaye @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name @tateypots @pedrofan @matildagirl1 @chloeee20

[elliespuns]

Cute enough to squeeze and squish and pinch, enough to coddle and dote on, to take a bite of

[kia-bia-97-deactivated20260711]

ATTENTION ALL TUMBLR READERS AND WRITERS!!! There is a scam going around ,where you would recieve a message from someone saying they falsely reported you for something. They'll tell you to appeal it through discord because it'll be easier. ITS A SCAM. DO NOT BELIEVE THEM!! I was too stupid to catch on and I was hacked. I just gained access to my account again after a week or so. Please spread the word and be careful. I don't want anyone else to go through this. I've reached out to people that they messaged already but I wanted to warn any and everyone else. This should be a safe place for us to express ourselves and our work. SO PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD AND LET EVERYONE KNOW!!! Thank you for taking the time to read this.

[kokoluwie]

"Get 'nough sleep while I'm workin', baby. I'll make it up to you 'soon as I get back." 🛠️

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

a Joel Miller in fisherman sweater to go with the Arthur one 🪵🍁

[snifsnouf-art]

He looks adorable 🥹

[mybvalentine]

he is just too fucking beautiful he would be sooooo sick of me oh my GOD (credit: augvstus on pinterest)