[broad-shouldrs]

☮ hi all, i'm jax. i'm in my 30's and while this may be a newer blog, it's not my first foray in fandom. based on the type of content written & reblogged, this is strictly an 18+ space. i am type-a as fuck (blame my virgo rising) so i try to keep things neat & organized.

welcome to my little corner of the internet.

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[kokoluwie]

Le prince ―✧˖° ♛

[alilgayblog]

Oscar Isaac's Closet Picks

[perotovar]

PEDRO PASCAL as CLINT FLOOD Freaky Tales (2025) dir. Anna Boden & Ryan Fleck

[broad-shouldrs]

mama, i'm in love with a criminal

[broad-shouldrs]

Humiliated || Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 4942

summary: joel accidentally comes inside you

warnings: 18+, minors dni.

a brief moment of dubious consent due to..., accidental creampie, bareback sex, p in v, somewhat subby!joel, size kink, breeding kink, humiliation kink, edging/ruined orgasm

a/n: i wrote this with the intention of posting it on my birthday last week, but life sucks sometimes. anyways, there needs to be more sub!p men fic. am i right, @time-for-my-weekly-spanking? not beta read, so don't yell at me.

The way Joel fucks you can never be labeled as anything other than exquisite. His breath is hot against the sensitive skin of your neck, his mouth closing over the pulse point just below your ear so as to taste the salt of your sweat. The coarse scratch of his chest hair drags across your breasts as he leans in close, the low rumble of his groan vibrating through your ribcage. The muscles in his back shift and flex under the featherlight touch of your fingertips. A large hand pins your wrist above your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, his thick fingers digging into the soft flesh in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

Despite being lost in the throes of pleasure, you can tell how dangerously close Joel is to coming. His thrusts are no longer the steady, rolling grind that he started with, but desperate and choppy. The thick head of his cock grazes against your cervix with every sloppy snap of his hips. The veins along his shaft throb against your stretched rim, his balls slapping against your ass with each stuttered movement. “Joel…” you warn.

He shakes his head fast, jaw tight and teeth clenched as he fights his impending orgasm. “I know, baby. I know. M’pullin’ out, I promise.” 

That had always been the deal between the two of you – he could fuck you bare like he wanted, but he had to pull out – and until tonight, Joel had always been overly cautious. He’d pull out earlier than he needed to, stroking himself those last few seconds before spilling across the backs of your thighs.

Tonight though, Joel seemed to be struggling to hold up his end of the bargain. He rises onto his knees and hooks one of your legs over his broad shoulders. The new angle lets him sink into you further, grinding against that spongy spot inside you with merciless precision. Your body clenches around him, squeezing his cock in a way that makes him break with a choked sound. “Fuck, baby. M’gonna come–”

He rips out of you at the very last second, cock throbbing in the cool summer air. His hand wraps around the thick, slick shaft as he jerks himself with fast, desperate strokes. With an exasperated groan, the first hot rope of come shoots out of him, landing exactly where he wants it - splattered perfectly over your swollen clit. Before you can even react, a second spurt follows dripping down your folds in a sticky, pearly streak. 

The sight of his release painting your pussy flips a switch in him instantly. That primal urge in him that is usually kept locked down roars to the surface. Joel’s chest heaves, his entire body going rigid as every civilized thought gets wiped clean and is replaced with the need to be inside you. “Fuck. Fuck, baby–” He drives into you in one brutal, instinctive thrust, thrusting every thick inch of his cock back into the heat of your cunt. The stretch is sudden and overwhelming despite him pulling out only moments earlier.

“Joel–” you manage to breathlessly exclaim as he turns his head and groans against your ankle. His orgasm hits him harder now that he’s buried where he knows he shouldn’t be, the guilt and wrongness only seeming to intensify everything as he continues to spill inside you.

His whole body shakes with the force of it, completely lost in the rush of filling you when he promised he wouldn’t. “Oh fuck–” he chokes out, gasping and moaning as he grinds himself impossibly deeper, pushing his spend as far inside you as he can. 

Your leg slips from his shoulder and Joel’s body collapses forward with a groan, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He trembles above you, arms braced on either side of your head, too weak to hold himself up fully as he attempts to catch his breath. Even after the last powerful aftershocks ripple through him, Joel stays buried to the hilt, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary roll, unable to stop chasing the euphoric feeling. His cock twitches inside your come-filled pussy, his body refusing to accept that it’s over.

The room falls silent, the gravity of what just happened settling over you until it’s almost suffocating. Joel finally slumps over you, his forehead nudging into your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around your middle like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His breath is shaky as he burrows his face into your neck and you sense the tension and unease radiating off of him.  “...baby. I–I fucked up,” he admits, voice wrecked from both exhaustion and nerves. 

You can feel the warmth of his release slowly leaking out around his softening cock and you try to lift your head to see, but Joel is heavy over top of you. You tap the side of his ass, urging him to get up and thankfully he understands the gesture. He eases himself out of you, his cock slipping out of you with a wet noise, and falls back onto the mattress, covering his face with his forearm. “Jesus…” you breathe, having propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at the mess he made. The sheen of your slick is smeared glossy across your inner thighs. Joel’s come is everywhere – seeping out of your hole in thick, pearly white streaks and dripping onto the bedsheets beneath you. 

Joel sits up, leaning back on one hand as he takes in the sight of your spread thighs, watching as his come slowly trickles from your entrance. The guilt of breaking his promise to you starts to eat at him; but, alongside the shame is a dark, hungry satisfaction that he can’t push away. The conflicting feelings weave together into some fucked up shame spiral and he lets out a heavy sigh, flopping back onto the mattress. 

He hears you say his name, but the sound barely registers. He’s too lost in his own head, trapped somewhere between regret and disgust. You call out again, this time a little louder, and he rolls onto his side to face you. Without a word, he leans in, one hand cradling your cheek as he kisses you. It’s not rushed or desperate, but rather sweet, as if his lips were trying to say everything he was having difficulty putting into words. There’s an apology in the way that his thumb gently strokes the side of your face. There’s hunger in the way his tongue slides against yours. And, there’s relief in the quiet sigh he breathes into the kiss, like touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded. “M’sorry, baby…” he murmurs against your lips. 

His eyes flick back down to the mess between your thighs, brows furrowing together. “Fuck…look at what I did to you,” he whispers. “As soon as I can feel my damn legs, “we’re gonna get in the car, okay? I’ll drive you to the pharmacy and we’ll see about gettin’ you the mornin’ after pill.” Joel shakes his head, disappointed in himself, but even more so at his cock which twitches with interest. “I promised. I fuckin’ promised and I just…” his voice cracks, “the second I came, I lost it. Buried myself right back in like some goddamn animal.” There’s a short pause, Joel swallowing down a dangerous thought, “Jesus Christ, baby…what the hell did I do?”

You grab Joel’s face with both hands before he can spiral any further, pulling him into a kiss that shuts him up and steals whatever apology was about to tumble out. His lips quiver against yours, unsure if he should even be allowed this kind of forgiveness. It isn’t until the tip of your tongue slides slowly over the seam of his lips that he melts. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and the tension in his jaw finally eases. His hand comes to rest on your waist and he kisses you back, trying to convey his gratitude for not pushing him away.

When you break apart, you rest your forehead against him and brush your thumbs over his stubbled cheekbones. “Should make you go by yourself,” you mumble against his lips, no malice in your voice. “Explain to the pharmacist what you did.”

Joel looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, knowing he deserves every bit of shame and reproach that would come from confessing it aloud. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his face starting to heat up. “Baby…” he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper. 

You smile softly, eyes locked on his, “She’s going to take one look at this guilty face and just know that you couldn’t keep your cock where it belonged.” Joel makes a ragged sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “She’ll make you say it too,” you add, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip. “What you did. Out loud.”

Joel’s eyes flutter shut, cheeks burning hotter under your gaze, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. You’re not exactly sure what prompts you, but you find yourself sliding your fingers into Joel’s hair, gently tugging his head back up so you can see his face. “Tell me what you’d say to her,” you whisper. “Tell me like you’re standing at the counter.”

Joel shakes his head weakly, attempting to resist your request, but his pupils are blown wide, lust swallowing his irises. His cock twitches with interest, blood rushing to where he’s already growing half-hard between his thighs. 

You let your gaze drop, catching the sudden movement in your peripheral vision. Joel lets out a small, miserable whine and tries to bury his face in your neck again, but you keep your grip firm in his hair. “Joel,” you say, slightly amused but with a strangely cruel undertone to it. “Are you getting hard while apologizing?”

Your question lingers in the air, and the real shock of it hits you, because Joel is not the type to be brought down to his metaphorical knees. He is always the one in control – bigger, stronger, unmistakably male – and seeing him like this almost feels surreal. You can’t help but think that it looks good on him for a change. 

Joel’s breath stutters, his cock betraying him as it twitches under your gaze. His blush deepens until he’s red all the way up to the tips of his ears. He feels exposed, ridiculous and so fucking turned on that it’s making his head spin. “Baby, I–I’m trying not to.”

You tilt your head and let out a disbelieving laugh, glancing down at his cock steadily thickening between you. “Doesn’t look like it. Looks like you’re getting big and hard just from thinking about having to talk to the pharmacist later.”

A shiver zips up Joel’s spine and he barely restrains the groan that wants to escape. He fucking loves it when you call him big. Not just because of the way it strokes his ego – though he loves when you admire his dick – but because the way you say it makes him feel powerful. Hearing you use that word against him, teasing him while he’s exposed like this, makes his stomach tighten. The contradiction of being called ‘big’ while feeling so small and humiliated fucks with his head in the best way. Because no matter how big he is – how easily he could pin you down and take control – here he is, rock hard and almost submissive for you. His cock throbs, heavy and flushed dark, curving up towards his stomach as the tip glistens with a fresh bead of precome.

“Answer me,” you say, voice low and commanding as you give his hair another firm tug until his eyes are trained on you.

“...fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, unable to keep himself in check as you stare down at him. “Yes…okay? Yes, I’m gettin’ hard. I hate it and I can’t fuckin’ help it.”

Joel looks completely mortified, but his hips twitch upward anyway, like his body is begging for attention. His big, guilty brown eyes stay locked on yours, glassy and desperate. A long moment stretches between you while you watch him squirm, shame and arousal practically eating him alive. You lean in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “That’s because you liked it,” you whisper. “You liked filling me up when you weren’t supposed to. You liked fucking up.”

His whole body tenses, his cock jerking with another helpless twitch. “Fuck…baby,” he whispers. “So fucking much.”

You let the silence sit for another beat, just to watch him sit with his admission. His hand flexes at his side like he’s dying to reach out and touch you – to grab your hips, pull you closer, bury his face between your thighs, and eat you out until you’re shaking and pushing him away.  Anything to distract from the embarrassment of telling someone else how much he enjoyed coming inside you. 

When you’re satisfied that you had made him wait long enough, you loosen your grip on his hair and slide your hand down to cup his jaw. “Joel,” you say softly. He responds with a hum, leaning into your touch. “Say it.”

Joel blinks, his breath shallow. “Say what?”

You lean in until your lips are barely an inch from his, “What you’re going to tell the pharmacist.”

Joel’s eyes flutter shut for a second, his lips parting slightly as he half-expects you to lean in and kiss him. When you don’t, he lets out a huff. After a moment, he relents,  “Sorry ma’am,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Can I bother you for Plan B? I…I accidentally…” His sentence tapers off, embarrassment and arousal tying his tongue while you look at him expectantly. “She–she told me to pull out, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You tsk at him, a low, disappointed sound that makes his shoulder tense. You trail your fingers from where it cups his cheek, down the side of his neck, over the rapid thud of his heartbeat in his chest, until you reach his navel. You trace his happy trail with the pad of your pointer finger, purposefully keeping away from his more than interested cock. “Keep going,” you state, more demand than request. “You weren’t finished."

Joel looks at you wrecked, completely at your mercy as you continue teasing him with featherlight touches. “Baby…I–”

You cut him off mid-sentence, wrapping your fingers firmly around the thick base of his cock. He goes stock still, his eyes flying wide open as he lets out a sharp gasp, “Fuck–”. You hold him there, tight and possessive, feeling his cock throb hot and heavy in your palm, but refusing to stroke him. 

“Keep going,” you say calmly, your thumb brushing lightly over the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. “Don’t stop just because I have your cock in my hand.”

Joel licks his lips, eyes glued to yours, his thighs trembling as he fights the overwhelming urge to thrust up into your fist. “She told me to pull out,” he starts, your grip tightening. “…but I saw how pretty she looked on my cock and I–” He groans softly, enraptured by the way you’re looking at him. “I couldn’t help myself, baby.  I–I just needed to feel you feel you full of me.”

You lean in close, nose brushing against the shell of his ear, and whisper, “Pathetic.”

A broken groan tears out of Joel’s chest, shame flooding his face. He jerks his hips involuntarily, eagerly chasing the heat of your palm. His body shakes – the big, strong man who’s always in control, trembling from a single whispered insult.

“Go on,” you purr in his ear. “Repeat what you’d say to the pharmacist. Word for word.”

Joel’s eyes squeeze shut, his voice is wrecked, cracking with every humiliating word. “...Sorry, ma’am. Can I get a Plan B? I accidentally came inside my girl. She told me to pull out but I…I couldn’t help but fill her up anyway.” His hips twitch helplessly, precome drooling from the tip and leaking over your fist.

“And why not,” you ask softly, adjusting your grip, your thumb swiping over the flushed, sensitive head.

Joel keens, his back arching off the bed. “Because–” he starts, swallowing down a shaky breath,  “because she was squeezin’ me so good that I lost control.”

“I told you to pull out,” you remind him, thumb continuing to move. 

He nods quickly, shame tightening in his throat. “I know, baby. I know. I did at first but…” Joel lets out a strangled whine, only furthering his embarrassment, “...fuck.”

“But what, Joel?” you ask, lips still brushing his ear in a tease. “Finish your sentence.” Your hand slides up his length in one smooth stroke, then back down to the base. He’s so fucking big in your grip, your fingers barely meeting around his shaft due to the sheer size of him. His cock is a complete mess, glistening and still slick with his earlier load. 

Joel’s hands fist the sheets, needing to hold onto something, the fabric pulling away from the edge of the mattress as he fights for control. “I didn’t listen,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “Stuffed myself right back inside.”

You pull back just enough to see his face, his pupils blown with lust, his lips parted as he pants, desperate for more – desperate for something. “Good boy,” you praise. Joel’s entire body seizes up, his cock surging with want, as he attempts to push himself deeper into your grasp. You keep stroking him, the pace excruciating, letting your thumb swirl over the messy come-slick head on every upstroke. “Now tell her why you’re there,” you murmur.

Joel lets out a broken whine, hips jerking helplessly. His voice cracks as he forces the words out, shame and arousal twisting together so tightly he can barely speak.  “ ‘Cause she needs the morning after pill,” he breathes out. “And it’s all my fault.” Joel shoves his hips up, spearing his cock into your grip as he starts fucking your fist in short, needy strokes. “All my fucking fault.” 

The big, dominant Joel Miller is officially gone. In place is this desperate, leaking, shame-drenched version of him who can’t stop confessing how badly he fucked up – how badly he needed to come inside you – and how much he loved it.

“Greedy boy. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” 

He doesn’t answer you. You let him use your hand to get off, watching his face go slack with pleasure before urging his hips down and slowing your hand. Your fingers tighten around him, just enough to control the pace, forcing his thrusts to become shallow and frustratingly restricted. Every time he tries to move, you ease off, keeping him right on the agonizing edge without letting him tip over.

“That’s it,” you croon softly, “Tell her exactly why you need it.”

Joel’s hands fist the sheets tighter, knuckles white as he bunches the fabric at his sides. “‘Cause–fuck…’cause I came inside you, baby,” he groans. “Pussy looked so good covered in my come that I just had to get back inside.”

You feel him swell impossibly bigger in your hand, the thick shaft pulsing in time with his heartbeat, as he teeters dangerously close to the edge. His balls draw up tight, the first warning of his impending orgasm.

Joel’s breath catches, his eyes starting to roll back, inches away from satisfaction. You let go, your hand pulling away completely, leaving his cock twitching and bobbing angrily in the air. He lets out a broken sound as his orgasm crests and then crashes without release. His cock kicks hard, pulsing uselessly, a thick bead of precome dribbling pathetically from the tip and sliding down his shaft. His hips buck in the air, every muscle straining as everything fades into a cruel, aching denial. He collapses towards you, his body practically shaking  as he presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Fuck…baby…please…” he begs. 

You let him ache, his chest heaving with quick, uneven breaths, his denied cock twitching and leaking against his stomach. Every heavy throb is visible as he attempts to gather himself. He tries to tamp down his arousal, but underneath is something deeper  – raw, aching need. 

You press a hand gently to his chest, urging him to lie flat and Joel obeys instantly, falling back onto the mattress fully and without protest. You swing a leg over him, straddling his hips, your slick folds parting around him. His head falls back with a guttural groan as you start to rock against him, the fat head of his cock dragging hot and slippery over your swollen clit making you both moan. You feel him shudder underneath you, a low groan vibrating through his chest as he curses silently, “...fuck, baby. Just like that.”

Joel’s hands fly to your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh like he’s barely holding himself together. His breathing is ragged, eyes half-lidded and desperate as he watches you use him. You tease him like that for a few more torturous seconds without giving him what he really needs, a needy whine slipping out before he can stop it. 

Without hesitation, you take his cock in hand, lining him up with your entrance and sinking down all the way to the hilt. The stretch is perfect, your walls squeezing tight around him, greedy for more. A broken moan escapes both of you at the same time as Joel springs up, sitting up beneath you in a rush, one arm wrapping around your back as he pulls you into a messy, desperate kiss. Joel licks into your mouth like he’s starving for you. One hand slides up your back, while the other stays wrapped around your middle as he guides you harder onto his cock. 

“Fuck, baby…” he pants between kisses, “you feel so goddamn good.” Joel’s forehead drops to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin as he lets you take complete control, utterly lost in the feeling of being buried inside you again. 

“Keep going,” you say, pulling off of him until only the tip of him remains inside you, then slamming back down until he’s fully sheathed again. “Tell the pharmacist what you did.”

Joel’s brain is barely coherent. “Fuck–I–” His hands dig into your skin, almost like he’s afraid you’ll leave him ruined and desperate again. “M’sorry, ma’am,” he begins, his words somewhat slurred as you continue to mercilessly ride him, the wet heat of your cunt enveloping him over and over again. “Need a plan B for my–fuck– girl.” His voice cracks as you grind your clit against his pelvis, the coarse hair on his groin prickling into your skin. “I’m sorry,” he groans, starting to babble, the confession spilling out in desperate, shattered pieces. “So fucking sorry. Felt so good. Fuck, baby…you feel so good. Needed to fill you up.”

Joel is embarrassingly close already, his hips stuttering up to meet your rhythm. “Fuck, baby. Hop off–fuck, I’m gonna–” he gasps, starting to panic. His hands scramble frantically at your hips, trying to lift you off him to avoid further incident. 

But you don’t let him. You slam down onto him one last time, taking him as deep as you can, rolling your hips in tight circles that eke him closer to the finish line. Your walls clench around him like a vice and Joel’s eyes widen in shock. “No–baby, wait–I can’t–fuck!”

His panicked warning dissolves into a guttural groan as his cock pulses violently inside you, his eyes rolling back into his head, vision going white, as thick, hot ropes of come flood you for the second time that afternoon. His entire body trembles beneath you, his fingers bruising your skin where he grips you as if you’re the only thing anchoring him to Earth.

The wet warmth of his spend spills from your cunt and drips down his shaft, coating him in his own mess. Joel’s face is slack, experiencing what one can only assume to be pure bliss – like nothing in the world exists except the tight, slick heat of your cunt milking him dry. 

You ride the high right alongside him, your bodies in a perfect, filthy sync until your own orgasm crashes into you without warning. Your thighs lock tight around his hips as white-hot pleasure rips up your spine. You cry out, your head lolling back, his name slipping from your lips as every muscle shakes with wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure. 

Joel starts to slowly soften inside of you but doesn’t dare look down at the mess. “Still gotta go to the pharmacy, baby.”

The fluorescent lights of the pharmacy feel way too bright as Joel stands at the counter, posture rigid like he’s waiting on his own execution. The pharmacist, a no-nonsense type of woman in her fifties, offers him a polite smile. “How can I help you today?”

Joel’s face immediately burns red, his blush crawling all the way up to his ears. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing over at you like maybe you’ll save him from utter embarrassment, but you don’t. He clears his throat, an attempt at keeping himself from stuttering which immediately backfires as soon as he opens his mouth to speak. “Uh–I–I–uh…I need the, uh…the Plan B pill.”

The pharmacist doesn’t even blink, she just nods calmly and types something into the computer, “One moment, sir. I’ll grab that for you.”

Joel lets out an apprehensive breath, muttering under his breath while his fingers tap nervously on the counter. He prays the ground will just swallow him whole. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles to himself.

The pharmacist returns with the small blue box and sets it on the counter, scanning the barcode. “Alright, if that’s it for today, that’ll be–”

“It’s my fault,” Joel blurts out, far too loud, before realizing his blunder. “I–I messed up.”

You watch the pharmacist’s eyebrows slowly lift. In truth, your hand reaches for him like you’re going to stop him, but the words tumble out of him quicker than expected. “She told me to pull out but I just lost my head.”

You bite down hard on your lip to keep from laughing, your face heating with a mix of second-hand embarrassment and delight. The pharmacist blinks, completely unfazed. “Oh. Well…it happens. That’ll be $54.11.”

Joel looks like he’s two seconds away from melting into the floor. His neck and ears are bright red, jaw clenched so tight you’re afraid he’s going to pop a vein in his forehead. He fumbles for his wallet, dropping his debit card with a loud clatter, cursing quietly under his breath. You place a steady hand on his bicep and he manages to swipe the card with shaking fingers, refusing to look at you.

When the transaction is complete, the pharmacist hands him the bag, telling him she hopes he has a good day. He can’t even respond with words. He raises his hand, nodding his head and gently takes you by the arm, leading you out of the pharmacy as quickly as he can. When he reaches the sidewalk, he turns towards you, the bulge evident in his jeans, his voice dropping into a hushed whisper only you can hear. “Baby…I swear I ain’t ever been that embarrassed in all my life.”

The minute the front door clicks shut behind you, Joel lets out a heavy exhale, dropping the keys to his truck on the entryway table. You barely make it two steps before he reaches for you, grabbing your hand and pulling you into him, your back flush against his broad chest. His face drops into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin like he needs the contact to steady himself. 

He turns you to face him and his eyes are soft, filled with adoration and love. The flush of humiliation hasn’t fully faded, his ears tinted pink as he cocks his head to the side and then leans in to kiss you. The kiss starts slow, as if he’s asking for permission, but the moment you kiss him back, it deepens – slow and hungry in the softest way. His hands slide down your back, palms warm and steady, pressing you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Baby…”, he whispers, his lips not leaving yours. “...you were real mean to me.”

You smile, humming in agreement, “Yeah, you gonna let me do it again?”

Joel swallows, eyes dropping to your mouth, his response somewhat shy, “Jesus…I–yeah,we’ll talk about it.”

His forehead rests against yours and he breathes you in for a long moment, then kisses you again. His arms tighten around you as the tension starts to bleed out of his shoulders. “Thank you,” he murmurs, the words barely more than a breath. “For helpin’ me take care of it. For not bein’ mad. For…hell, for everything.”

You feel his body relax fully into yours like he’s finally letting the weight of the day settle. His thumb keeps stroking your cheek in slow, gentle circles as he holds you close, safe in the quiet of your apartment. “Maybe it’s time we start trying,” you suggest. His head whips towards you, eyes wide and curious, trying to gauge if you actually mean it. You nod as if answering his silent question and you swear you’ve never seen him happier.

[ess-evo]

this did something to me that can’t be undone. this was so good!! filthy smut with a touch of sweetness - perfection.

[broad-shouldrs]

literally speechless. thank you for reading 💜💜💜

[mewnbuns]

sitting on the kitchen island while he talks to you from between your legs, his hands stroking from your calves to your hips, you’re wearing his shirt, his lips constantly inches from yours, just a breath apart

[kaizsche]

PEDRO PASCAL as ALEX SERIAN BEHEMOTH! (2026)

[xmissghoulx]

The cuteness aggression i get from him is unreal. 😍

[broad-shouldrs]

Landslide || Mr. Ben

pairing: mr. ben x f!reader

word count: 2,287

summary: it's been 15 years since you last saw ben.

warnings: 18+, minors dni.

hurt/no comfort, one teeny tiny sex scene (if you can even call it that). 

a/n: this was written for @sunshinehaze1's PPCU Fic-less Writing Challenge. every time i tried to write smut for ben, my brain supplied some awful scenario to break this poor man's heart. i would say i'm sorry, but i'm not.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, highlighting the last fifty years of grime on the once-white linoleum, caked over with layers of floor wax in an effort to get it to shine. Posters for the upcoming Student Council elections littered the blue-hued brick walls, each one with a different set of false promises in an effort to garner a single vote. A sea of parents walked the hallways, clutching their children’s schedules, dazed and lost, as they attempted to navigate the maze that was Back to School night. 

It was the typical chaos every year. One that Ben had grown to appreciate, allowing the chance to speak with parents about his expectations both as a group and in brief one-on-one conversations. What he had not expected, however, was a familiar set of eyes staring back at him. Eyes that had haunted him for the last 15 years. 

Ben abruptly stopped speaking, pausing his rehearsed speech on late work for his third period geometry class. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the pounding making it extremely difficult to continue his train of thought. 

He was transported back to the tiny studio apartment with the peeling wallpaper and creaky shower that you shared with him just after grad school. The apartment where he gave eight years of his life to you. The apartment where you got up and walked out of his life, leaving him feeling anxious and desolate as he replayed the countless arguments you had about the future of your relationship. His dreams of bedtime stories and crayon drawings on the fridge never outweighing your fear of being swallowed whole by motherhood. “I can’t. I can’t give you that, Ben,”  you said to him somberly.

Ben shakes his head, forcing down every painful memory that’s bubbling at the surface. He’s able to continue, mindlessly covering his syllabus like he did for the last three groups of parents that visited his classroom, while his thoughts wander. 

You’re here. In his classroom – and if you’re in his classroom, that means you have a kid. 

You have a kid. 

A freshman. Meaning, if he was doing his math right – and he always did his math right – that you got pregnant within a year of leaving him. 

Ben’s heart cracked violently in his chest, shattering what was already fragile. You were the one who got away. His first love. The one who had broken his heart and left him feeling hollow and inadequate and less than. And now the proof was in the theoretical pudding, because he was right all along. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to have kids, it was that you didn’t want to have kids with him.

“I just want to talk about it,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Why can’t we talk about having kids without you shutting down?” You sigh, frustrated by the thought of having this conversation again. Your fingers curl where they grip the edge of the kitchen counter, your face turned away from the man you’ve been with for the past eight years.  “Because you’re not listening to me, Ben. I don’t want that life.”

Ben’s eyes sting with unshed tears, biting his lip to keep from trembling. He tries to keep the anxiety-driven thoughts away but fails. Miserably. “But you want me…” he starts, voice tentative and laced with fear. “Right?” 

You answered him with silence. Seconds go by which turn into minutes which feel like hours. Ben can feel his thoughts start to spiral. She doesn’t want me. It’s over. You pushed her too far. You weren’t good enough.

“I can’t be someone’s mother, Ben,” you whispered, your voice breaking through his turmoil but not providing the answer he wanted. “We’re living on your student teacher salary and are just barely scraping by.” 

Ben swallowed hard, “But–”

“But nothing, Ben,” you interrupted. “I don’t want kids.” 

This wasn’t new information but the way you said it felt like you had physically struck him. He fought back the nausea climbing his throat, threatening to come back up as he shakily asked,  “So, where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know.”

Ben didn’t know what to do except to excuse himself. His breathing had picked up and he felt like he was on the edge of a panic attack. He went into the bedroom, shut the door, and laid flat on the bed while thoughts of life without you taunted him. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling as if the weight of your conversation was crushing his chest. 

Slowly, the door opened and you looked at Ben – his eyes red-rimmed and fists clenching and unclenching in the duvet. You moved quietly to join him, sitting at the corner of the unmade bed and he moved to sit up. “You deserve someone who wants the same things, Ben.” 

“I love you,” he begged, his chest aching as if already knowing that wasn’t enough. That he was never going to be enough. 

The bell rings, a signal to parents that they are to move to their student’s fourth period classrooms. Ben gives his closing remarks, stating that he hopes this will be an exciting year and thanks everyone for their time. 

As people start to exit, Ben makes a silent prayer for mercy. He prays that you won’t approach him. Whatever deity there is in the universe hates him, because luck was not on his side. He watches as your son – your son – scrambles from his seat and grabs your hand, excitedly pulling you forward. He notices the reluctance on your face as your eyebrows knit together in apology.

Ben braces himself, flattening his palms against the edge of the desk as you stumble in front of him. He immediately is hit with the familiar smell of your perfume, the same notes of jasmine and vanilla that you always favored. “Mr. Ben,” your son calls out with enthusiasm. “I just want you to meet my mom.” In any other circumstances, this would have been normal – endearing even – but Ben’s heart strings felt like they were being plucked out of tune. “Mom, Mr. Ben is the best. He’s everyone’s favorite teacher.”

“Hi Ben,” you say, your voice soft enough that Ben almost doubts it happened.

Oblivious to the absurdity of the situation, your son spots one of his classmates and makes his way over to them, leaving you both to flounder for cordial conversation.

Ben doesn’t trust his own voice as he shifts nervously on his feet. “Hi,” he states simply. 

“It’s…been a long time,” you recall. “Fifteen years,” Ben replies almost instantaneously, unable to stop himself. He quickly realizes how embarrassing his comment was. As if he had been counting. 

A pang of guilt flickers behind your eyes and you glance over your shoulder towards your son, deep in conversation with a cluster of other freshmen. 

“So,” he forces out, attempting to keep his tone neutral. “Your son’s in my third period.”

You nod. “Yeah. You have him weirdly excited about geometry.” Your expression softens with relief, the kind only a parent would experience or understand. 

Ben allows the ghost of a proud smile, but underneath the sharp, twisting, gut-wrenching pain is making him bleed. “He’s a good kid. Smart.” He starts calculating in his head, silently debating asking the question that he had already discounted earlier. “He’s…fourteen?”

You tense visibly, wincing as if he had taken a jab at you. “He’ll be fifteen in December.”

Ben nods, slow and mechanical as he does the math, even though the answer is obvious. You left him in February. He remembered because winter had never felt longer. “So, he’s not mine.” You flinch and god, he wants to take the words back out the second he sees your face crumble. 

“Ben,” you laughed, tugging playfully at his hair. “Focus.”

You were on your back on that lumpy mattress he always swore he’d replace someday, your legs hooked loosely around his waist. His glasses were abandoned on the nightstand, because you kept bumping your nose into them when you kissed.

“I am focused,” he insisted, attempting to hide his laugh in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. He leaned up to kiss you again, his knee slipping on the sheets, making him tumble – half-falling, half-collapsing onto you with a dramatic oof.

You burst into giggles, cupping his cheek and tilting his face up to meet his gaze. “Very smooth,” you mumbled. Ben smiled, leaning in to kiss you as if he had all the time in the world. His warm, brown eyes shining, glinting in the morning sun, relishing in this special moment with you. 

“You’re distracting me,” he murmured. “In a good way. The very best way.” He kissed you slowly, his movements soft yet eager. Your tongues tangled in the warm, wet heat between your mouths, making your heart flip in your chest. 

Ben brushed your hair back from your forehead, tucking a stray piece behind your ear like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. You tugged him back down, your legs tightening around his middle as your lips searched for his in a rush of want. 

Everything inside him melted.  

Ben’s hips shifted, gently rolling up into you, pressing you right against him in the most delicious way. You inhaled sharply, fingers curving around the back of his neck as you guided him closer, gasping in his ear. “Ben–”

Ben pulled back just far enough to look at you, breathing hard and so earnest it made your chest ache. “You okay?” he asked.

You nodded, smiling softly. “More than okay. C’mon.”

You reached between your bodies, finding his cock, already hard and throbbing with anticipation, guiding him slowly into you.

Ben’s breath caught in a quiet gasp at the feeling of you opening around him, not unfamiliar but still overwhelming. He re-positioned himself, hooking his arm around your leg to allow himself to sink into you even deeper, encouraging your body to take him in. The stretch made your mouth fall open, a small moan escaping before you could swallow it down. 

“Hi,” he whispered when he had finally bottomed out, like it was the only word he could manage without making a total and complete fool of himself.

You smiled against his lips. “Hi.”

Ben started moving, shallow thrusts that built up to something steady and sweet. His forehead rested against yours, noses brushing, both of you breathing the same breath. You dragged your hands down his back, feeling each flex of muscle as his hips rocked into you. 

He gave an embarrassed yet delighted groan and kissed you again, hips speeding up as he lost himself in you. His hand slid down your thigh, lifting it a little higher around his waist, and the new angle made both of you gasp in sync.

“Yeah?” he asked, eyes bright, hopeful. “That good?”

“Ben,” you whimpered, fingers curling into his hair, “don’t stop.”

The tension built so fast it stole your breath, heat coiling low, his name tumbling from your lips without thought. “Come with me,” he said, voice cracking adorably.

You nodded and after one more perfectly placed thrust, you did. Your body clenched around him, mouth falling open as you cried out his name. Ben followed in a heartbeat, a warm, gasping rush inside you as he held you tightly, chest pressed to chest, like you were the air he needed most.

He stayed inside you, breath fluttering against your shoulder while his fingers drew nonsense shapes on your thigh. The fan rattled overhead, the city hummed outside, but all he heard was the sound of your quiet laugh as he tried to catch his breath.

You don’t answer and Ben can’t tell if it’s purposeful or if you’re just plain hurt. Either way, the quiet that follows is like a twist to a knife that he hadn’t realized was still very much planted in his body. 

Ben laughs, a single, humorless exhale. “Right. Well. Good. I mean… I didn’t think—” He shakes his head because the sentence tastes like bile. He can’t imagine that you could ever be so cruel to have not told him about a child. Of course your son isn’t his. “Doesn’t matter.”

There’s a brief moment where Ben thinks you’re about to speak, but it is quickly broken by the sound of the warning bell, indicating five minutes left before the next session starts. 

“You look happy,” he says, hating how small and unconvincing his voice sounds. Your eyes flash with something far more complicated than sadness. Regret, maybe. Or love that’s been buried alive and clawing for air. 

“I’m trying,” you answer, your voice shaking. He nods once, the way he does when a student gives an excuse that isn’t quite bullshit – a half-truth.

Parents shuffle past, breaking the bubble around you. Your son calls your name,  impatient and unaware of the history standing between his mother and his teacher. “It was good to see you, Ben,” you say.

“Yeah.” Ben forces a smile. “You too.” 

You turn, joining your son, ruffling his hair as he groans in embarrassment. He leans into your side and Ben watches you slip down the hallway with the life you’ve built — the one you swore you didn’t want. 

He tells himself to breathe. He tells himself that fifteen years is enough time to get over someone. He tells himself that this shouldn’t feel like the day you left all over again.

He feels himself go numb as the bell rings one last time, “Welcome parents! My name is Mr. Ben and I have the utmost pleasure of teaching your children for fourth period…”

[baronessvonglitter]

The way I’d give Ben a baby with a quickness.. mm this was some good angst 🥇

[broad-shouldrs]

i have no words. ben is such a hard character to get engagement with in terms of a fic, so i have no idea how you came across this. but, i'm so glad you did and i'm so glad you liked it. i like making hot men sad 💜💜

[broad-shouldrs]

Tag game

Thanks for the tag @time-for-my-weekly-spanking!

1. Where is your blog title from?

I don't have a title on my blog, but my blog name is the title of a song by the Ivy. Everyone always thinks that it's because of Pedro, but it's just a silly coincidence that our man is big & broad.

2. Latest movie? What did you think?

Heartstopper Forever. I thought it was really cute and a good way to wrap up the series.

3. What are you looking forward to right now?

As much as I love it, I'm looking forward to the World Cup ending. I feel like it's been one massive distraction.

4. If you could do anything at all today, what would it be?

If it wasn't raining right now, I'd be dying to get in a pool.

5. Drink of choice?

Typically just water or Coke. But, if I'm drinking - which is rare - i'd take a Dogfish Head Strawberry Honeyberry Vodka Lemonade

6. Hair routine

I am the most low maintenance person. I wash my hair like every other day and let it air dry. In terms of styling, I just throw in some pomade and hair spray. (I forgot that ya'll don't know what I look like)

7. Favorite way to travel? Is there another way you want to try?

Car - preferably if I'm driving. I have crazy bad motion sickness so while I enjoy the speed of a plane, I usually just end up miserable.

8. Favorite month & why

April. Not only is it my birthday month, but it's the turn of Spring.

9. Favorite time of the day & why?

Summer nights. Specifically from like 7pm onwards as the sun is setting and it gets a little cooler.

10. Do you play or follow any sports?

I don't play sports anymore. Growing up I played softball and basketball and in college I did lots of intramural sports. I follow sports when it's interesting (World Cup, March Madness, Super Bowl, etc.)

11. What kind of music has been stuck in your head lately?

If I'm not listening to my playlist for my new fic, I'm listening to Sabrina Carpenter or Bad Bunny.

12. Dishes or laundry?

Dishes.

13. Something you learned recently?

How microwaves work (thank you Project Hail Mary)

14. What could you talk about if you had to give a TED talk on anything?

Why Entei is the best legendary Pokemon. Alternatively, why fruit pies are the worst kind of pie.

15. Piece of advice you find yourself giving a lot?

You don't need to please everyone.

16. Piece of advice you would give yourself 5 years ago?

Put in more effort. Don't get too comfortable.

17. Do you believe in luck or superstition? Do you carry any lucky items or follow any rules?

Not really?

18. Are you musical (play any instruments? Sing? Would you perform for an audience?)

I played the clarinet for 7 years in middle & high school. I also can play the snare drum decently well because I used to flirt with this guy by stealing his drum sticks and learned to play by mimicing him. I sing when I'm alone, but I have a terrible voice. I remember loving karaoke as a kid but...

19. Write, type or speak 

Depends? At work I'm a chatty little shit. When I'm at home, I'd rather be writing/typing.

20. What do you wish someone would ask you?

I don't wish anyone would ask me anything in particular, but you can. I'm an open book.

npt: @peepawmiller @mcthsman @milla-frenchy @baronessvonglitter @peepawmiller @ess-evo and whoever else wants to do this!

[broad-shouldrs]

Humiliated || Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 4942

summary: joel accidentally comes inside you

warnings: 18+, minors dni.

a brief moment of dubious consent due to..., accidental creampie, bareback sex, p in v, somewhat subby!joel, size kink, breeding kink, humiliation kink, edging/ruined orgasm

a/n: i wrote this with the intention of posting it on my birthday last week, but life sucks sometimes. anyways, there needs to be more sub!p men fic. am i right, @time-for-my-weekly-spanking? not beta read, so don't yell at me.

The way Joel fucks you can never be labeled as anything other than exquisite. His breath is hot against the sensitive skin of your neck, his mouth closing over the pulse point just below your ear so as to taste the salt of your sweat. The coarse scratch of his chest hair drags across your breasts as he leans in close, the low rumble of his groan vibrating through your ribcage. The muscles in his back shift and flex under the featherlight touch of your fingertips. A large hand pins your wrist above your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, his thick fingers digging into the soft flesh in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

Despite being lost in the throes of pleasure, you can tell how dangerously close Joel is to coming. His thrusts are no longer the steady, rolling grind that he started with, but desperate and choppy. The thick head of his cock grazes against your cervix with every sloppy snap of his hips. The veins along his shaft throb against your stretched rim, his balls slapping against your ass with each stuttered movement. “Joel…” you warn.

He shakes his head fast, jaw tight and teeth clenched as he fights his impending orgasm. “I know, baby. I know. M’pullin’ out, I promise.” 

That had always been the deal between the two of you – he could fuck you bare like he wanted, but he had to pull out – and until tonight, Joel had always been overly cautious. He’d pull out earlier than he needed to, stroking himself those last few seconds before spilling across the backs of your thighs.

Tonight though, Joel seemed to be struggling to hold up his end of the bargain. He rises onto his knees and hooks one of your legs over his broad shoulders. The new angle lets him sink into you further, grinding against that spongy spot inside you with merciless precision. Your body clenches around him, squeezing his cock in a way that makes him break with a choked sound. “Fuck, baby. M’gonna come–”

He rips out of you at the very last second, cock throbbing in the cool summer air. His hand wraps around the thick, slick shaft as he jerks himself with fast, desperate strokes. With an exasperated groan, the first hot rope of come shoots out of him, landing exactly where he wants it - splattered perfectly over your swollen clit. Before you can even react, a second spurt follows dripping down your folds in a sticky, pearly streak. 

The sight of his release painting your pussy flips a switch in him instantly. That primal urge in him that is usually kept locked down roars to the surface. Joel’s chest heaves, his entire body going rigid as every civilized thought gets wiped clean and is replaced with the need to be inside you. “Fuck. Fuck, baby–” He drives into you in one brutal, instinctive thrust, thrusting every thick inch of his cock back into the heat of your cunt. The stretch is sudden and overwhelming despite him pulling out only moments earlier.

“Joel–” you manage to breathlessly exclaim as he turns his head and groans against your ankle. His orgasm hits him harder now that he’s buried where he knows he shouldn’t be, the guilt and wrongness only seeming to intensify everything as he continues to spill inside you.

His whole body shakes with the force of it, completely lost in the rush of filling you when he promised he wouldn’t. “Oh fuck–” he chokes out, gasping and moaning as he grinds himself impossibly deeper, pushing his spend as far inside you as he can. 

Your leg slips from his shoulder and Joel’s body collapses forward with a groan, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He trembles above you, arms braced on either side of your head, too weak to hold himself up fully as he attempts to catch his breath. Even after the last powerful aftershocks ripple through him, Joel stays buried to the hilt, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary roll, unable to stop chasing the euphoric feeling. His cock twitches inside your come-filled pussy, his body refusing to accept that it’s over.

The room falls silent, the gravity of what just happened settling over you until it’s almost suffocating. Joel finally slumps over you, his forehead nudging into your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around your middle like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His breath is shaky as he burrows his face into your neck and you sense the tension and unease radiating off of him.  “...baby. I–I fucked up,” he admits, voice wrecked from both exhaustion and nerves. 

You can feel the warmth of his release slowly leaking out around his softening cock and you try to lift your head to see, but Joel is heavy over top of you. You tap the side of his ass, urging him to get up and thankfully he understands the gesture. He eases himself out of you, his cock slipping out of you with a wet noise, and falls back onto the mattress, covering his face with his forearm. “Jesus…” you breathe, having propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at the mess he made. The sheen of your slick is smeared glossy across your inner thighs. Joel’s come is everywhere – seeping out of your hole in thick, pearly white streaks and dripping onto the bedsheets beneath you. 

Joel sits up, leaning back on one hand as he takes in the sight of your spread thighs, watching as his come slowly trickles from your entrance. The guilt of breaking his promise to you starts to eat at him; but, alongside the shame is a dark, hungry satisfaction that he can’t push away. The conflicting feelings weave together into some fucked up shame spiral and he lets out a heavy sigh, flopping back onto the mattress. 

He hears you say his name, but the sound barely registers. He’s too lost in his own head, trapped somewhere between regret and disgust. You call out again, this time a little louder, and he rolls onto his side to face you. Without a word, he leans in, one hand cradling your cheek as he kisses you. It’s not rushed or desperate, but rather sweet, as if his lips were trying to say everything he was having difficulty putting into words. There’s an apology in the way that his thumb gently strokes the side of your face. There’s hunger in the way his tongue slides against yours. And, there’s relief in the quiet sigh he breathes into the kiss, like touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded. “M’sorry, baby…” he murmurs against your lips. 

His eyes flick back down to the mess between your thighs, brows furrowing together. “Fuck…look at what I did to you,” he whispers. “As soon as I can feel my damn legs, “we’re gonna get in the car, okay? I’ll drive you to the pharmacy and we’ll see about gettin’ you the mornin’ after pill.” Joel shakes his head, disappointed in himself, but even more so at his cock which twitches with interest. “I promised. I fuckin’ promised and I just…” his voice cracks, “the second I came, I lost it. Buried myself right back in like some goddamn animal.” There’s a short pause, Joel swallowing down a dangerous thought, “Jesus Christ, baby…what the hell did I do?”

You grab Joel’s face with both hands before he can spiral any further, pulling him into a kiss that shuts him up and steals whatever apology was about to tumble out. His lips quiver against yours, unsure if he should even be allowed this kind of forgiveness. It isn’t until the tip of your tongue slides slowly over the seam of his lips that he melts. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and the tension in his jaw finally eases. His hand comes to rest on your waist and he kisses you back, trying to convey his gratitude for not pushing him away.

When you break apart, you rest your forehead against him and brush your thumbs over his stubbled cheekbones. “Should make you go by yourself,” you mumble against his lips, no malice in your voice. “Explain to the pharmacist what you did.”

Joel looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, knowing he deserves every bit of shame and reproach that would come from confessing it aloud. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his face starting to heat up. “Baby…” he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper. 

You smile softly, eyes locked on his, “She’s going to take one look at this guilty face and just know that you couldn’t keep your cock where it belonged.” Joel makes a ragged sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “She’ll make you say it too,” you add, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip. “What you did. Out loud.”

Joel’s eyes flutter shut, cheeks burning hotter under your gaze, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. You’re not exactly sure what prompts you, but you find yourself sliding your fingers into Joel’s hair, gently tugging his head back up so you can see his face. “Tell me what you’d say to her,” you whisper. “Tell me like you’re standing at the counter.”

Joel shakes his head weakly, attempting to resist your request, but his pupils are blown wide, lust swallowing his irises. His cock twitches with interest, blood rushing to where he’s already growing half-hard between his thighs. 

You let your gaze drop, catching the sudden movement in your peripheral vision. Joel lets out a small, miserable whine and tries to bury his face in your neck again, but you keep your grip firm in his hair. “Joel,” you say, slightly amused but with a strangely cruel undertone to it. “Are you getting hard while apologizing?”

Your question lingers in the air, and the real shock of it hits you, because Joel is not the type to be brought down to his metaphorical knees. He is always the one in control – bigger, stronger, unmistakably male – and seeing him like this almost feels surreal. You can’t help but think that it looks good on him for a change. 

Joel’s breath stutters, his cock betraying him as it twitches under your gaze. His blush deepens until he’s red all the way up to the tips of his ears. He feels exposed, ridiculous and so fucking turned on that it’s making his head spin. “Baby, I–I’m trying not to.”

You tilt your head and let out a disbelieving laugh, glancing down at his cock steadily thickening between you. “Doesn’t look like it. Looks like you’re getting big and hard just from thinking about having to talk to the pharmacist later.”

A shiver zips up Joel’s spine and he barely restrains the groan that wants to escape. He fucking loves it when you call him big. Not just because of the way it strokes his ego – though he loves when you admire his dick – but because the way you say it makes him feel powerful. Hearing you use that word against him, teasing him while he’s exposed like this, makes his stomach tighten. The contradiction of being called ‘big’ while feeling so small and humiliated fucks with his head in the best way. Because no matter how big he is – how easily he could pin you down and take control – here he is, rock hard and almost submissive for you. His cock throbs, heavy and flushed dark, curving up towards his stomach as the tip glistens with a fresh bead of precome.

“Answer me,” you say, voice low and commanding as you give his hair another firm tug until his eyes are trained on you.

“...fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, unable to keep himself in check as you stare down at him. “Yes…okay? Yes, I’m gettin’ hard. I hate it and I can’t fuckin’ help it.”

Joel looks completely mortified, but his hips twitch upward anyway, like his body is begging for attention. His big, guilty brown eyes stay locked on yours, glassy and desperate. A long moment stretches between you while you watch him squirm, shame and arousal practically eating him alive. You lean in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “That’s because you liked it,” you whisper. “You liked filling me up when you weren’t supposed to. You liked fucking up.”

His whole body tenses, his cock jerking with another helpless twitch. “Fuck…baby,” he whispers. “So fucking much.”

You let the silence sit for another beat, just to watch him sit with his admission. His hand flexes at his side like he’s dying to reach out and touch you – to grab your hips, pull you closer, bury his face between your thighs, and eat you out until you’re shaking and pushing him away.  Anything to distract from the embarrassment of telling someone else how much he enjoyed coming inside you. 

When you’re satisfied that you had made him wait long enough, you loosen your grip on his hair and slide your hand down to cup his jaw. “Joel,” you say softly. He responds with a hum, leaning into your touch. “Say it.”

Joel blinks, his breath shallow. “Say what?”

You lean in until your lips are barely an inch from his, “What you’re going to tell the pharmacist.”

Joel’s eyes flutter shut for a second, his lips parting slightly as he half-expects you to lean in and kiss him. When you don’t, he lets out a huff. After a moment, he relents,  “Sorry ma’am,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Can I bother you for Plan B? I…I accidentally…” His sentence tapers off, embarrassment and arousal tying his tongue while you look at him expectantly. “She–she told me to pull out, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You tsk at him, a low, disappointed sound that makes his shoulder tense. You trail your fingers from where it cups his cheek, down the side of his neck, over the rapid thud of his heartbeat in his chest, until you reach his navel. You trace his happy trail with the pad of your pointer finger, purposefully keeping away from his more than interested cock. “Keep going,” you state, more demand than request. “You weren’t finished."

Joel looks at you wrecked, completely at your mercy as you continue teasing him with featherlight touches. “Baby…I–”

You cut him off mid-sentence, wrapping your fingers firmly around the thick base of his cock. He goes stock still, his eyes flying wide open as he lets out a sharp gasp, “Fuck–”. You hold him there, tight and possessive, feeling his cock throb hot and heavy in your palm, but refusing to stroke him. 

“Keep going,” you say calmly, your thumb brushing lightly over the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. “Don’t stop just because I have your cock in my hand.”

Joel licks his lips, eyes glued to yours, his thighs trembling as he fights the overwhelming urge to thrust up into your fist. “She told me to pull out,” he starts, your grip tightening. “…but I saw how pretty she looked on my cock and I–” He groans softly, enraptured by the way you’re looking at him. “I couldn’t help myself, baby.  I–I just needed to feel you feel you full of me.”

You lean in close, nose brushing against the shell of his ear, and whisper, “Pathetic.”

A broken groan tears out of Joel’s chest, shame flooding his face. He jerks his hips involuntarily, eagerly chasing the heat of your palm. His body shakes – the big, strong man who’s always in control, trembling from a single whispered insult.

“Go on,” you purr in his ear. “Repeat what you’d say to the pharmacist. Word for word.”

Joel’s eyes squeeze shut, his voice is wrecked, cracking with every humiliating word. “...Sorry, ma’am. Can I get a Plan B? I accidentally came inside my girl. She told me to pull out but I…I couldn’t help but fill her up anyway.” His hips twitch helplessly, precome drooling from the tip and leaking over your fist.

“And why not,” you ask softly, adjusting your grip, your thumb swiping over the flushed, sensitive head.

Joel keens, his back arching off the bed. “Because–” he starts, swallowing down a shaky breath,  “because she was squeezin’ me so good that I lost control.”

“I told you to pull out,” you remind him, thumb continuing to move. 

He nods quickly, shame tightening in his throat. “I know, baby. I know. I did at first but…” Joel lets out a strangled whine, only furthering his embarrassment, “...fuck.”

“But what, Joel?” you ask, lips still brushing his ear in a tease. “Finish your sentence.” Your hand slides up his length in one smooth stroke, then back down to the base. He’s so fucking big in your grip, your fingers barely meeting around his shaft due to the sheer size of him. His cock is a complete mess, glistening and still slick with his earlier load. 

Joel’s hands fist the sheets, needing to hold onto something, the fabric pulling away from the edge of the mattress as he fights for control. “I didn’t listen,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “Stuffed myself right back inside.”

You pull back just enough to see his face, his pupils blown with lust, his lips parted as he pants, desperate for more – desperate for something. “Good boy,” you praise. Joel’s entire body seizes up, his cock surging with want, as he attempts to push himself deeper into your grasp. You keep stroking him, the pace excruciating, letting your thumb swirl over the messy come-slick head on every upstroke. “Now tell her why you’re there,” you murmur.

Joel lets out a broken whine, hips jerking helplessly. His voice cracks as he forces the words out, shame and arousal twisting together so tightly he can barely speak.  “ ‘Cause she needs the morning after pill,” he breathes out. “And it’s all my fault.” Joel shoves his hips up, spearing his cock into your grip as he starts fucking your fist in short, needy strokes. “All my fucking fault.” 

The big, dominant Joel Miller is officially gone. In place is this desperate, leaking, shame-drenched version of him who can’t stop confessing how badly he fucked up – how badly he needed to come inside you – and how much he loved it.

“Greedy boy. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” 

He doesn’t answer you. You let him use your hand to get off, watching his face go slack with pleasure before urging his hips down and slowing your hand. Your fingers tighten around him, just enough to control the pace, forcing his thrusts to become shallow and frustratingly restricted. Every time he tries to move, you ease off, keeping him right on the agonizing edge without letting him tip over.

“That’s it,” you croon softly, “Tell her exactly why you need it.”

Joel’s hands fist the sheets tighter, knuckles white as he bunches the fabric at his sides. “‘Cause–fuck…’cause I came inside you, baby,” he groans. “Pussy looked so good covered in my come that I just had to get back inside.”

You feel him swell impossibly bigger in your hand, the thick shaft pulsing in time with his heartbeat, as he teeters dangerously close to the edge. His balls draw up tight, the first warning of his impending orgasm.

Joel’s breath catches, his eyes starting to roll back, inches away from satisfaction. You let go, your hand pulling away completely, leaving his cock twitching and bobbing angrily in the air. He lets out a broken sound as his orgasm crests and then crashes without release. His cock kicks hard, pulsing uselessly, a thick bead of precome dribbling pathetically from the tip and sliding down his shaft. His hips buck in the air, every muscle straining as everything fades into a cruel, aching denial. He collapses towards you, his body practically shaking  as he presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Fuck…baby…please…” he begs. 

You let him ache, his chest heaving with quick, uneven breaths, his denied cock twitching and leaking against his stomach. Every heavy throb is visible as he attempts to gather himself. He tries to tamp down his arousal, but underneath is something deeper  – raw, aching need. 

You press a hand gently to his chest, urging him to lie flat and Joel obeys instantly, falling back onto the mattress fully and without protest. You swing a leg over him, straddling his hips, your slick folds parting around him. His head falls back with a guttural groan as you start to rock against him, the fat head of his cock dragging hot and slippery over your swollen clit making you both moan. You feel him shudder underneath you, a low groan vibrating through his chest as he curses silently, “...fuck, baby. Just like that.”

Joel’s hands fly to your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh like he’s barely holding himself together. His breathing is ragged, eyes half-lidded and desperate as he watches you use him. You tease him like that for a few more torturous seconds without giving him what he really needs, a needy whine slipping out before he can stop it. 

Without hesitation, you take his cock in hand, lining him up with your entrance and sinking down all the way to the hilt. The stretch is perfect, your walls squeezing tight around him, greedy for more. A broken moan escapes both of you at the same time as Joel springs up, sitting up beneath you in a rush, one arm wrapping around your back as he pulls you into a messy, desperate kiss. Joel licks into your mouth like he’s starving for you. One hand slides up your back, while the other stays wrapped around your middle as he guides you harder onto his cock. 

“Fuck, baby…” he pants between kisses, “you feel so goddamn good.” Joel’s forehead drops to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin as he lets you take complete control, utterly lost in the feeling of being buried inside you again. 

“Keep going,” you say, pulling off of him until only the tip of him remains inside you, then slamming back down until he’s fully sheathed again. “Tell the pharmacist what you did.”

Joel’s brain is barely coherent. “Fuck–I–” His hands dig into your skin, almost like he’s afraid you’ll leave him ruined and desperate again. “M’sorry, ma’am,” he begins, his words somewhat slurred as you continue to mercilessly ride him, the wet heat of your cunt enveloping him over and over again. “Need a plan B for my–fuck– girl.” His voice cracks as you grind your clit against his pelvis, the coarse hair on his groin prickling into your skin. “I’m sorry,” he groans, starting to babble, the confession spilling out in desperate, shattered pieces. “So fucking sorry. Felt so good. Fuck, baby…you feel so good. Needed to fill you up.”

Joel is embarrassingly close already, his hips stuttering up to meet your rhythm. “Fuck, baby. Hop off–fuck, I’m gonna–” he gasps, starting to panic. His hands scramble frantically at your hips, trying to lift you off him to avoid further incident. 

But you don’t let him. You slam down onto him one last time, taking him as deep as you can, rolling your hips in tight circles that eke him closer to the finish line. Your walls clench around him like a vice and Joel’s eyes widen in shock. “No–baby, wait–I can’t–fuck!”

His panicked warning dissolves into a guttural groan as his cock pulses violently inside you, his eyes rolling back into his head, vision going white, as thick, hot ropes of come flood you for the second time that afternoon. His entire body trembles beneath you, his fingers bruising your skin where he grips you as if you’re the only thing anchoring him to Earth.

The wet warmth of his spend spills from your cunt and drips down his shaft, coating him in his own mess. Joel’s face is slack, experiencing what one can only assume to be pure bliss – like nothing in the world exists except the tight, slick heat of your cunt milking him dry. 

You ride the high right alongside him, your bodies in a perfect, filthy sync until your own orgasm crashes into you without warning. Your thighs lock tight around his hips as white-hot pleasure rips up your spine. You cry out, your head lolling back, his name slipping from your lips as every muscle shakes with wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure. 

Joel starts to slowly soften inside of you but doesn’t dare look down at the mess. “Still gotta go to the pharmacy, baby.”

The fluorescent lights of the pharmacy feel way too bright as Joel stands at the counter, posture rigid like he’s waiting on his own execution. The pharmacist, a no-nonsense type of woman in her fifties, offers him a polite smile. “How can I help you today?”

Joel’s face immediately burns red, his blush crawling all the way up to his ears. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing over at you like maybe you’ll save him from utter embarrassment, but you don’t. He clears his throat, an attempt at keeping himself from stuttering which immediately backfires as soon as he opens his mouth to speak. “Uh–I–I–uh…I need the, uh…the Plan B pill.”

The pharmacist doesn’t even blink, she just nods calmly and types something into the computer, “One moment, sir. I’ll grab that for you.”

Joel lets out an apprehensive breath, muttering under his breath while his fingers tap nervously on the counter. He prays the ground will just swallow him whole. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles to himself.

The pharmacist returns with the small blue box and sets it on the counter, scanning the barcode. “Alright, if that’s it for today, that’ll be–”

“It’s my fault,” Joel blurts out, far too loud, before realizing his blunder. “I–I messed up.”

You watch the pharmacist’s eyebrows slowly lift. In truth, your hand reaches for him like you’re going to stop him, but the words tumble out of him quicker than expected. “She told me to pull out but I just lost my head.”

You bite down hard on your lip to keep from laughing, your face heating with a mix of second-hand embarrassment and delight. The pharmacist blinks, completely unfazed. “Oh. Well…it happens. That’ll be $54.11.”

Joel looks like he’s two seconds away from melting into the floor. His neck and ears are bright red, jaw clenched so tight you’re afraid he’s going to pop a vein in his forehead. He fumbles for his wallet, dropping his debit card with a loud clatter, cursing quietly under his breath. You place a steady hand on his bicep and he manages to swipe the card with shaking fingers, refusing to look at you.

When the transaction is complete, the pharmacist hands him the bag, telling him she hopes he has a good day. He can’t even respond with words. He raises his hand, nodding his head and gently takes you by the arm, leading you out of the pharmacy as quickly as he can. When he reaches the sidewalk, he turns towards you, the bulge evident in his jeans, his voice dropping into a hushed whisper only you can hear. “Baby…I swear I ain’t ever been that embarrassed in all my life.”

The minute the front door clicks shut behind you, Joel lets out a heavy exhale, dropping the keys to his truck on the entryway table. You barely make it two steps before he reaches for you, grabbing your hand and pulling you into him, your back flush against his broad chest. His face drops into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin like he needs the contact to steady himself. 

He turns you to face him and his eyes are soft, filled with adoration and love. The flush of humiliation hasn’t fully faded, his ears tinted pink as he cocks his head to the side and then leans in to kiss you. The kiss starts slow, as if he’s asking for permission, but the moment you kiss him back, it deepens – slow and hungry in the softest way. His hands slide down your back, palms warm and steady, pressing you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Baby…”, he whispers, his lips not leaving yours. “...you were real mean to me.”

You smile, humming in agreement, “Yeah, you gonna let me do it again?”

Joel swallows, eyes dropping to your mouth, his response somewhat shy, “Jesus…I–yeah,we’ll talk about it.”

His forehead rests against yours and he breathes you in for a long moment, then kisses you again. His arms tighten around you as the tension starts to bleed out of his shoulders. “Thank you,” he murmurs, the words barely more than a breath. “For helpin’ me take care of it. For not bein’ mad. For…hell, for everything.”

You feel his body relax fully into yours like he’s finally letting the weight of the day settle. His thumb keeps stroking your cheek in slow, gentle circles as he holds you close, safe in the quiet of your apartment. “Maybe it’s time we start trying,” you suggest. His head whips towards you, eyes wide and curious, trying to gauge if you actually mean it. You nod as if answering his silent question and you swear you’ve never seen him happier.

[areader-whoused-towrite]

Ok the smut was incredible but omg the way you wrote the feelings and emotions so well. Then that ending 🤣 Poor Joel

[broad-shouldrs]

what a compliment 💜 i always end up editing/rewriting so much because i feel like i struggle to convey feeling and inward thoughts so much. thank youuuu 💜

[broad-shouldrs]

search ‘my vibe’ + a colour you like on pinterest and pick the ones you find most aesthetic✨

thanks for the tags @time-for-my-weekly-spanking & @milla-frenchy

npt: @joelsgoodgirl @mcthsman @kokoluwie @peepawmiller @ess-evo and whoever else may want to join!

[a7estrellas]

PEDRO PASCAL in Tony Gilroy’s ‘Behemoth!’

[agentjackdaniels]

[broad-shouldrs]

Fic Writer Showcase Tag Game 📝

How it works: A pick a favourite passage from your work for each category below. It can be a line or a few paragraphs.

Thank you for the tags: @milla-frenchy, @time-for-my-weekly-spanking, @ess-evo, and @peepawmiller this was fucking difficult. i cheated and did two for sexiest because i refuse to choose. sue me. also, at this point i don't even know who i would tag because i'm a week late.

Most Romantic (or sweetest): Hold on to Me (Joel x reader) note: i feel like i've hardly written anything that could be considered romantic...but here's something from my first fic (which is slowly getting a rewrite)

You take a breath and literally run into the cabin, only to immediately feel a hand grasp at your ankle and pull you down. You stumble and fall, crashing hard onto something solid beneath you. Joel’s grunt is the first thing you hear, followed by a sharp exhale as you land on top of him. Your breath hitches, and you instinctively gasp, but before the sound can escape, his hand is quick to cover your mouth. The warmth of his palm against your lips feels like a jolt of electricity and you freeze, feeling his body tense beneath you. He doesn’t move, his chest rising and falling beneath yours as the only indication that he’s still there. His eyes are wide, barely inches from your face, and there's a flash of something in them you can’t quite place. After a long moment, he lifts his hand away from your mouth, but keeps you there — close enough that you can feel every muscle in his body, every breath he takes. The weight of the moment presses down on you, and you realize that, for all the history this place carries, this moment feels like it could be one of its most significant.

Your Angst-iest writing: Landslide (Mr.Ben x reader)

He was transported back to the tiny studio apartment with the peeling wallpaper and creaky shower that you shared with him just after grad school. The apartment where he gave eight years of his life to you. The apartment where you got up and walked out of his life, leaving him feeling anxious and desolate as he replayed the countless arguments you had about the future of your relationship. His dreams of bedtime stories and crayon drawings on the fridge never outweighing your fear of being swallowed whole by motherhood. “I can’t. I can’t give you that, Ben,”  you said to him somberly. Ben shakes his head, forcing down every painful memory that’s bubbling at the surface. He’s able to continue, mindlessly covering his syllabus like he did for the last three groups of parents that visited his classroom, while his thoughts wander.  You’re here. In his classroom – and if you’re in his classroom, that means you have a kid.  You have a kid.  A freshman. Meaning, if he was doing his math right – and he always did his math right – that you got pregnant within a year of leaving him. 

Your most humorous: heat of the moment (Whiskey x reader)

Jack watches your reaction closely and keeps going, his voice dropping lower, “Or you sittin’ in my lap in a bath, with me holdin’ your thighs open, tellin’ you how good you’re takin’ me. Tellin’ you I ain’t ever leavin’ that pussy.”  You blink at him, mouth slightly parted, heat flooding your face. “Jack Daniels,” you whisper, half-scandalized, half turned-on. “Yes ma’am.” “That’s filth.” He can’t help but laugh, proud and unrepentant, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “I just held you down and fucked the livin’ daylights outta you while you begged me not to, sugar.” he teases, “and you’re callin’ a little dirty talk filth?

Your sexiest: Humiliated (sub!Joel x reader)

You tsk at him, a low, disappointed sound that makes his shoulder tense. You trail your fingers from where it cups his cheek, down the side of his neck, over the rapid thud of his heartbeat in his chest, until you reach his navel. You trace his happy trail with the pad of your pointer finger, purposefully keeping away from his more than interested cock. “Keep going,” you state, more demand than request. “You weren’t finished.“ Joel looks at you wrecked, completely at your mercy as you continue teasing him with featherlight touches. “Baby…I–” You cut him off mid-sentence, wrapping your fingers firmly around the thick base of his cock. He goes stock still, his eyes flying wide open as he lets out a sharp gasp, “Fuck–”. You hold him there, tight and possessive, feeling his cock throb hot and heavy in your palm, but refusing to stroke him.  “Keep going,” you say calmly, your thumb brushing lightly over the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. “Don’t stop just because I have your cock in my hand.” Joel licks his lips, eyes glued to yours, his thighs trembling as he fights the overwhelming urge to thrust up into your fist. “She told me to pull out,” he starts, your grip tightening. “…but I saw how pretty she looked on my cock and I–” He groans softly, enraptured by the way you’re looking at him. “I couldn’t help myself, baby.  I–I just needed to feel you feel you full of me.” You lean in close, nose brushing against the shell of his ear, and whisper, “Pathetic.”

Your sexiest (part 2): Temporary Fix (Joel x reader)

You nod helplessly, too far gone to deny it. The shame only makes the heat coil tighter inside, your cunt pulling him in deeper. Joel groans at the way you squeeze him, his hips continuing their punishing pace. “Where d’you want me to come?”  Your mouth opens, nothing but a moan slipping out, too engulfed in your own pleasure to form words. “Where d’you want it?” he repeats. Joel’s pace stutters for half a second before pulling himself completely free, leaving you empty, your cunt clenching around nothing. You cry out, writhing underneath him, your hands weakly pulling at him, attempting to get him back inside. “Uh-uh. You tell me where you want it or you don’t get it at all.” He fists his cock, dragging the wet head along your swollen slit.  The ache is unbearable, your body strung tight, desperate for release. You let out a whine and keen your hips upwards, finally admitting what you truly want. “Inside — please, Joel. Fuck me. Come inside me.” Joel shoves back into you in one harsh thrust, burying himself to the root, and your orgasm is instantaneous. It’s blinding, your vision going white-hot behind your eyelids, every nerve set alight as your entire body shakes beneath him.  Joel’s own climax crashes as your pussy squeezes the life out of him. His hips jerk, grinding deep, cock pulsing hard as he spills hot inside you. You feel every throb of him, his creamy spend dripping out around the base of his cock and down your ass. Your body’s trembling with the aftershocks, cunt still clenching weakly around him, trying to wring him for all he’s worth, and Joel groans rough against your throat. You whimper, completely overstimulated, the mix of your slick and his spend seeping out, and Joel finally pulls back just enough to watch it dribble out. His cock slides free, and his eyes darken at the sight of his come leaking from your swollen pussy. “Jesus. Could fuckin’ blow another load just from the sight of that.”

[time-for-my-weekly-spanking]

Your writing is excellent 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

I'm curiously in the notes of two of these fics which makes me very happy 🤭

I still remember reading Heat of the moment and it was so good and hot and I couldn’t be more glad that you wrote that masterpiece for my challenge 😍

And Humiliated… there’s never enough sub!Joel and yours was such a YUMMY and much needed addition!! Stellar, absolutely delectable!!!

Ben I feel like it would break my heart but oh, the image of Joel on top of me with his hand over my mouth 🥵🥵🥵 I have to catch up 👀

Thanks for sharing your brilliant ideas with us 🙂‍↕️

[broad-shouldrs]

oooof course, because i was torn between which idea to write for your challenge and it turned out that both needed to be written!

the ben drabble is a little painful. i don't know what it is about that man, but i needed to make him sad. ALSO, if you haven't read temporary fix, you're in for a real treat. mean joel makes me want to spontaneously combust.

thank you as always 💜💜

[broad-shouldrs]

Fic Writer Showcase Tag Game 📝

How it works: A pick a favourite passage from your work for each category below. It can be a line or a few paragraphs.

Thank you for the tags: @milla-frenchy, @time-for-my-weekly-spanking, @ess-evo, and @peepawmiller this was fucking difficult. i cheated and did two for sexiest because i refuse to choose. sue me. also, at this point i don't even know who i would tag because i'm a week late.

Most Romantic (or sweetest): Hold on to Me (Joel x reader) note: i feel like i've hardly written anything that could be considered romantic...but here's something from my first fic (which is slowly getting a rewrite)

You take a breath and literally run into the cabin, only to immediately feel a hand grasp at your ankle and pull you down. You stumble and fall, crashing hard onto something solid beneath you. Joel’s grunt is the first thing you hear, followed by a sharp exhale as you land on top of him. Your breath hitches, and you instinctively gasp, but before the sound can escape, his hand is quick to cover your mouth. The warmth of his palm against your lips feels like a jolt of electricity and you freeze, feeling his body tense beneath you. He doesn’t move, his chest rising and falling beneath yours as the only indication that he’s still there. His eyes are wide, barely inches from your face, and there's a flash of something in them you can’t quite place. After a long moment, he lifts his hand away from your mouth, but keeps you there — close enough that you can feel every muscle in his body, every breath he takes. The weight of the moment presses down on you, and you realize that, for all the history this place carries, this moment feels like it could be one of its most significant.

Your Angst-iest writing: Landslide (Mr.Ben x reader)

He was transported back to the tiny studio apartment with the peeling wallpaper and creaky shower that you shared with him just after grad school. The apartment where he gave eight years of his life to you. The apartment where you got up and walked out of his life, leaving him feeling anxious and desolate as he replayed the countless arguments you had about the future of your relationship. His dreams of bedtime stories and crayon drawings on the fridge never outweighing your fear of being swallowed whole by motherhood. “I can’t. I can’t give you that, Ben,”  you said to him somberly. Ben shakes his head, forcing down every painful memory that’s bubbling at the surface. He’s able to continue, mindlessly covering his syllabus like he did for the last three groups of parents that visited his classroom, while his thoughts wander.  You’re here. In his classroom – and if you’re in his classroom, that means you have a kid.  You have a kid.  A freshman. Meaning, if he was doing his math right – and he always did his math right – that you got pregnant within a year of leaving him. 

Your most humorous: heat of the moment (Whiskey x reader)

Jack watches your reaction closely and keeps going, his voice dropping lower, “Or you sittin’ in my lap in a bath, with me holdin’ your thighs open, tellin’ you how good you’re takin’ me. Tellin’ you I ain’t ever leavin’ that pussy.”  You blink at him, mouth slightly parted, heat flooding your face. “Jack Daniels,” you whisper, half-scandalized, half turned-on. “Yes ma’am.” “That’s filth.” He can’t help but laugh, proud and unrepentant, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “I just held you down and fucked the livin’ daylights outta you while you begged me not to, sugar.” he teases, “and you’re callin’ a little dirty talk filth?

Your sexiest: Humiliated (sub!Joel x reader)

You tsk at him, a low, disappointed sound that makes his shoulder tense. You trail your fingers from where it cups his cheek, down the side of his neck, over the rapid thud of his heartbeat in his chest, until you reach his navel. You trace his happy trail with the pad of your pointer finger, purposefully keeping away from his more than interested cock. “Keep going,” you state, more demand than request. “You weren’t finished.“ Joel looks at you wrecked, completely at your mercy as you continue teasing him with featherlight touches. “Baby…I–” You cut him off mid-sentence, wrapping your fingers firmly around the thick base of his cock. He goes stock still, his eyes flying wide open as he lets out a sharp gasp, “Fuck–”. You hold him there, tight and possessive, feeling his cock throb hot and heavy in your palm, but refusing to stroke him.  “Keep going,” you say calmly, your thumb brushing lightly over the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. “Don’t stop just because I have your cock in my hand.” Joel licks his lips, eyes glued to yours, his thighs trembling as he fights the overwhelming urge to thrust up into your fist. “She told me to pull out,” he starts, your grip tightening. “…but I saw how pretty she looked on my cock and I–” He groans softly, enraptured by the way you’re looking at him. “I couldn’t help myself, baby.  I–I just needed to feel you feel you full of me.” You lean in close, nose brushing against the shell of his ear, and whisper, “Pathetic.”

Your sexiest (part 2): Temporary Fix (Joel x reader)

You nod helplessly, too far gone to deny it. The shame only makes the heat coil tighter inside, your cunt pulling him in deeper. Joel groans at the way you squeeze him, his hips continuing their punishing pace. “Where d’you want me to come?”  Your mouth opens, nothing but a moan slipping out, too engulfed in your own pleasure to form words. “Where d’you want it?” he repeats. Joel’s pace stutters for half a second before pulling himself completely free, leaving you empty, your cunt clenching around nothing. You cry out, writhing underneath him, your hands weakly pulling at him, attempting to get him back inside. “Uh-uh. You tell me where you want it or you don’t get it at all.” He fists his cock, dragging the wet head along your swollen slit.  The ache is unbearable, your body strung tight, desperate for release. You let out a whine and keen your hips upwards, finally admitting what you truly want. “Inside — please, Joel. Fuck me. Come inside me.” Joel shoves back into you in one harsh thrust, burying himself to the root, and your orgasm is instantaneous. It’s blinding, your vision going white-hot behind your eyelids, every nerve set alight as your entire body shakes beneath him.  Joel’s own climax crashes as your pussy squeezes the life out of him. His hips jerk, grinding deep, cock pulsing hard as he spills hot inside you. You feel every throb of him, his creamy spend dripping out around the base of his cock and down your ass. Your body’s trembling with the aftershocks, cunt still clenching weakly around him, trying to wring him for all he’s worth, and Joel groans rough against your throat. You whimper, completely overstimulated, the mix of your slick and his spend seeping out, and Joel finally pulls back just enough to watch it dribble out. His cock slides free, and his eyes darken at the sight of his come leaking from your swollen pussy. “Jesus. Could fuckin’ blow another load just from the sight of that.”

[broad-shouldrs]

Temporary Fix || Joel Miller One-Shot

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 9,291

summary: joel doesn’t care that you’re not his. one reckless choice unravels into consuming obsession.

warnings: 18+, minors dni.

infidelity/cheating (with Joel), power dynamics, oral sex - m&f! receiving, fingering, creampie, size kink (always, because joel miller’s got a hog), degradation kink, praise kink, exhibitionism

a/n: there are many interpretations of joel miller across fandom, and this is simply my own. this work is not intended to be a canon-accurate portrayal, but rather a version of the character that serves the story being told.

shout out to @joelsgoodgirl for yelling at me to get this done

You’re not supposed to be here. Here being on your knees in someone else’s kitchen, bare shins against the cold tile of the floor with sweat both dripping down your spine and pooling between your breasts as you choke around the cock of a man who is not your boyfriend.

Yet here you are, gagging around the most gorgeous cock you’ve ever set your eyes on. Tears form at your waterline as a calloused hand grips at the makeshift ponytail that is your hair and forces himself further down your throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans, watching as saliva pools at the edges of your mouth as you struggle to breathe around his girth. “Just a little more.” Your nails dig half-moons into the outer flesh of his thighs as you try to find your balance and breathe through your nose. 

“That useless boy o’ yours don’t have any idea how to fuckin’ wreck your throat like this,” he sneers, his gray-streaked pubic hair tickling your nostrils as he stuffs himself impossibly further between your lips. “Does he even make you come, sweetheart? Or do you rub one out after he’s done gettin’ himself off?”

You whimper around all eight inches of his cock, the vibrations making his eyes flutter shut in pure ecstasy. He pulls back, giving you a short reprieve from his harsh thrusts, only the flushed red tip of his cock remaining in the warmth of your mouth. You bob your head of your own accord, your tongue curling around his shaft to trace the bulging vein on the underside. 

He slips his cock out from between your lips, the echo of the wet pop ringing in your ears. You take a normal breath, the sting of the cool air filling your lungs, a reminder of this very moment. He laughs and something deep in your belly twists, gooseflesh threatening to prickle up at the base of your neck. 

He slaps his cock against your left cheek, then your right cheek, before he drags his tip over your swollen lips. You can taste the saltiness of his pre-come mixed with your spit and it makes you hum in approval. “You like this better, don’t you?” he mutters. “Sneakin’ around like a filthy little whore. On your knees and beggin’ for my cock down your throat”

You should vehemently deny it. You should pull away and label this as the biggest mistake of your life. You should go home, call your boyfriend, and pretend like this never happened. 

But you don’t. 

Just like you didn’t the last time this happened. 

And the time before that.

And the time before that.

You nod your head once and the fucker smirks like he’s just been let in on a huge secret. He grabs you under your arms and lifts you to your feet like you weigh nothing. “S’ what I thought.” 

He manhandles you, spinning you around and bending you over the granite countertop with your panties yanked down in one rough motion. Your pussy is soaked and he’s hit with the intoxicating smell of your arousal. He takes his cock in hand and taps the leaking crown against your slick folds. 

You bite your lip and look over your shoulder, “Joel—’

His voice is harsh at your back as he prods at your entrance. “Shut the fuck up. ‘Less you want me to stop. S’that what you want?”

You stay stock still, completely silent, afraid to even breathe for fear that he’d pull away and leave you aching.

“Didn’t think so.” Joel pushes forward and the stretch is instant.  Without the luxury of preparation, your body tries to both resist and welcome the blunt intrusion at the same time. Your walls clamp down but the flood of wetness slicks his cock, dragging him deeper with each slow shove of his hips. Every inch feels like a battle, your cunt squeezing around the girth that you’re not quite ready for yet aching to be filled with. 

He’s unrelenting, stretching you to the brink – so big you swear he’s splitting you apart. You feel every throb of him as he buries himself to the hilt with a broken moan, the sound ripped from somewhere deep in his chest. It burns in that sharp, dizzying way that makes your mouth fall open and your lids droop halfway shut. You can’t think, much less string together a coherent sentence with the way that he’s filling you so completely. 

He leans forward, pressing his chest into your back and pants into your ear, “That’s it. Dumb little thing can’t even think straight now that I got my cock buried in you.”

Your body answers for you, your cunt clenching down like you’re begging him not to move. Joel doesn’t grant you mercy. He straightens himself up and rests his hand at the space between your shoulders, pinning you in place as he starts to draw his hips back just enough to make you feel the drag of him against your overstretched walls.  He slams forward, burying himself as deep as he can, the sudden shove jostling you and making you tighten your grip on the granite. 

He doesn’t give you a chance to breathe. The first thrust rolls straight into another, and another, until he’s pounding into you with a pace that makes your whole body jolt. Each punishing stroke splits you apart all over again as slick gushes down your thighs. Every time he bottoms out, his blunt head crashes into your cervix, making your vision blur and your voice break. 

He doesn’t slow down, just drives into you over and over until your body is trembling under him. You don’t stand a chance against the way your orgasm is building, not when all you can hear is Joel cursing and grunting behind you as he pistons his cock into your cunt, using you like he has any right to.

“You like cheatin’ with me so much,” he pants, “you’re gonna let me come in this pretty little pussy, aren’t you?”

You nod before he’s even finished with his sentence. Too fast. Too eager. 

“You want it?” he snarls, fucking into you harder, chasing his own release.

“Yes, Joel–fuck, yes–please–” The words tumble out of your mouth, broken and desperate, as your body pushes back to meet every brutal thrust of Joel’s hips. “Come in me–” you sob, attempting to look over your shoulder at your boyfriend’s boss, “I want you to come in me–please, Joel–”

You had been dating your boyfriend for nearly two years when it started. He had taken the day off from his construction job to celebrate your birthday. A real feat, he made sure to remind you, because apparently his boss was a real hard ass. 

You were on your way to lunch at some restaurant you hadn’t shut up about for months. It wasn’t anything fancy, but he had never had the chance to take you there since their hours coincided with when he was typically at work. It would have been the perfect date. 

But, because your luck was shit, you ended up pissed off and stranded on the side of the road while his busted old Toyota Tundra hissed steam from under the hood. He claimed he could fix it and you would be back on the road in thirty minutes tops. 

After an hour of him swearing and burning his fingers on hot metal, you’d had enough. You offered to call for a tow, but he waved you off, saying it was a waste of money. Instead, he called some of his work buddies but every single one of them had the same excuse. They couldn’t slip away because the foreman was riding their ass today.

So you sat there on the shoulder, the sun climbing higher, sweat sticking your dress to your back, while your boyfriend kept insisting that he almost had it. Cars whooshed past, rattling the truck, and with each passing minute your birthday lunch slipped further away. 

A few more minutes passed and the rumble of another truck pulling behind you cut through the drone of traffic.

You twisted in your seat, shielding your eyes against the glare, and your stomach dropped when you saw who climbed out of the driver’s side. Broad shoulders, sun-creased face, worn flannel rolled up to the elbows. Joel. The foreman your boyfriend couldn’t stop cursing about, the one who had the whole crew too spooked to sneak away for even ten minutes.

Your boyfriend muttered something under his breath that sounded like fuck me, then straightened up quick, wiping his hands on his jeans like he hadn’t just been cursing at a smoking radiator for the last hour.

Joel shut his door with a solid thud and sauntered over, his boots crunching on the gravel. His gaze flicked from the open hood to the two of you, before settling on your boyfriend. “Well, well,” Joel drawled, a faint curl of amusement in his voice. “Knew there had to be a good reason you weren’t at work today.”

Your boyfriend laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s–uh–it’s my girl’s birthday. Truck gave out on the way to lunch.”

Joel’s eyes cut to you, lingering a second longer than what would be considered to be polite, before drifting back to the mess of steam and tools surrounding the truck. He huffed, shaking his head. “Figures.”

He popped the hood the rest of the way and leaned in, forearms braced on the edge of the truck. His shirt stretched tight across his back, the flannel sleeves rolled up enough to show the thick cords of muscle in his arms, and you hated yourself for noticing. For letting your gaze linger on the flex of his bicep as he reached deeper into the engine bay.

“Grab the socket wrench out the toolbox in my truck,” Joel ordered suddenly, jerking his chin toward the battered red toolbox in the bed of his pickup. Your boyfriend nodded and jogged off without question, eager to be useful. 

“Kid ain’t got a damn clue what to do with someone like you,” he says without looking up, “Keep starin’ and I’ll show you what all the fuss is about.”

Your breath caught, the heat rushing to your cheeks so fast it made you dizzy. You opened your mouth to deny the allegation, but nothing came out.

Fifteen minutes later, the hiss of steam was gone and the engine sputtered back to life. Joel slammed the hood shut with a satisfying bang. “There,” he said simply, wiping his hands on a rag he’d pulled from his back pocket. He turned to your boyfriend. “Don’t push this piece of shit past what it can handle. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

Your boyfriend started gathering the scattered tools, tossing them into the truck bed, muttering about making up for lost time even though your lunch reservation had long since passed.

Joel turned to you and extended his grease-streaked hand, palm up, without preamble. “Phone.”

You blinked, caught off guard by what he wanted. “…What?”

He quirked his brow and repeated himself, something he hated doing. “Phone.” Something in the way he said it left no room to argue. 

You reached into your purse and handed your phone to Joel, unable to keep from noticing how unreasonably large his hands were as his fingers tapped in his number. He passed it back, gaze locked on you. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” 

Something akin to thrill coursed through your veins and just like that your relationship went down the drain.

It was actually Joel who reached out to you first. He called you, letting you know your boyfriend had gotten injured on the job.”Don’t panic,” he said right off the bat. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a laceration on the forearm from a close shave with a table saw. “Probably needs some stitches at least, but he’s whimperin’ all over my site and says he won’t go anywhere ‘til you get here.”

The way Joel said it made it seem like your boyfriend was more of an inconvenience than an injured man, but you couldn’t be too sure. “Joel,” you started carefully, “is it serious?”

“Nothin’ that’ll kill him,” he uttered, unimpressed. You could picture the set of his jaw and the crease between his brows just perfectly. “But he’s makin’ it everybody’s problem.”

That night, after a trip to urgent care, you text Joel.

You: He’s passed out from the pain meds but figured you should know the doctor says he needs to stay out for two weeks.

You expect to get no response, but your phone buzzes just a few minutes later.

Joel: Figures.

Joel: Appreciate you lettin’ me know.

You: Sorry if he was a pain today.

Joel: He’s always a pain. You ain’t.

You don’t know how to answer, your mind already preoccupied with a laundry list of tasks now that your boyfriend is out of commission. 

Joel: Got his paycheck. Alright if I just mail it?

Before replying, you remember how your boyfriend complained about paying the copay at urgent care earlier. Which reminds you that you’ll also need to figure out the puzzle that is worker’s compensation. You let out an audible sigh. If Joel sent the check in the mail, it’d take three or so days and the last thing you need to deal with right now is your boyfriend’s complaining.

You: Actually, can I swing by?

And that’s how you find yourself at Joel’s house at ten o’clock at night, filled with unease and nerves as you stare at the glow of his porch light from the safety of your car. You try to tell yourself that it’s easier this way – get your boyfriend’s paycheck, drop off the doctor’s note, and leave. But still, you find yourself smoothing your hands over your thighs and checking your reflection in the dark screen of your phone before forcing yourself to get out. 

The front door swings open before you can even knock, revealing Joel leaning against the wooden frame, unabashedly drinking in your figure and cataloging every inch of you. “Evenin’,” he calls out, his voice rough. He holds the door wide, tipping his head to motion for you to come inside.

You step past him, barely having time to take in the faint smell of sawdust and laundry detergent before you feel the heat of him behind you. The front door clicks shut and you turn around to find Joel standing in front of you, no more than a foot away. 

He doesn’t bother with small talk, he doesn't ask if you found the place alright or offer you a drink. He just stands there, watching you with an unreadable expression as you shift nervously. Finally, he holds out the envelope between two fingers. “Paycheck.” His tone is flat, but the way his eyes linger make it feel like a confession. 

“Doctor’s note.” You answer back in the same tone.

You swap what you’re holding, your fingers brushing against his as you take the envelope, and his mouth twitches, pulling at corners of his mouth. His eyes drop briefly, tracing the length of your dress. “Ain’t no reason to look nervous,” he mumbles, “I’m just thinkin’ out loud.”

“Are you?” you challenge, eyes narrowing. You swallow hard, clutching the envelope tighter, and Joel’s gaze flicks down to the death grip you’ve got on it. “What exactly are you thinkin’?”

“M’thinkin’ that idiot at home don’t see half of what’s standin’ right in front of him.”

The words land heavy because a part of you knows he’s right. Your boyfriend doesn’t notice when you dress up anymore. He doesn’t look twice when you put on lipstick or reach for your hand while driving. Joel calls it out like it’s obvious and when you don’t answer, the muscle in his jaw ticks. He leans in, close enough that you can smell the toothpaste on his breath.  “And m’thinking how I could show you.”

Your eyes dart to Joel’s lips and back to his eyes. He catches their movement and without hesitation, Joel’s mouth is on yours, hot and demanding. One of Joel’s hands fists at the side of your dress, dragging you forward until your chest bumps his, the envelope crushed between you. The other hand is splayed over your neck, four fingers at the nape pulling you closer while his thumb presses against your throat.

You let him, because it’s the first time in months you’ve felt wanted. Really wanted and not just dully satisfied by the ache of what once was. Joel’s attention is scorching and fills a hollow you’ve been pretending didn’t exist. The part of you that wants to stop caring, to stop being the good girlfriend, and to take something for yourself because you can. 

The kiss isn’t tender. Joel’s tongue slides past your lips, tasting vaguely like mint, and the groan he lets out rumbles straight through your bones. His knee pushes your legs apart so that he can slot his thigh firmly between yours, already feeling the heat radiating from underneath your dress.

When he breaks the kiss, it’s only long enough for you both to take in a breath. “Fuckin’ knew you wanted it.” Your thighs squeeze around his, gasping at the sharp friction and the pressure building at your core. “S’that all for me?”

You bury your face into the crook of Joel’s neck and shake your head as Joel drags you harder against the thick muscle of his thigh. “Look at you. So fuckin’ needy,” Joel rasps, his breath hot in your ear, his hands guiding your hips. “Not bein’ takin’ care of properly.”

You should be furious with Joel for dragging your boyfriend into this, but instead his words sink right into the part of you that is wholly unsatisfied.

You clutch at his shoulders, clumsy and desperate, rocking faster without realizing, chasing the delicious drag of the denim of his jeans against the damp fabric of your panties. “Go on,” he growls. “Show me you want it.”

You fall apart, hips jerking against him as your orgasm rips through you. Your thighs shake and squeeze around Joel’s quad as he holds you steady, until you’re whining, raw, and spent. Your body finally satiated after going hungry for so long.  

“Good girl.”

Relief settled into your chest the morning your boyfriend was due back at work. For two weeks, the guilt of what you had done with Joel gnawed at you to the point you buried it under a guise of sweetness. You were lovely to the point of exhaustion, as though if you poured enough love into him it might cancel out your betrayal. You told yourself it was love, when it was really penance.

He kissed your cheek, muttering something about working late to make up for lost hours and was out the door before you had finished your coffee. It was ugly the way that you were thankful to see him go.

That feeling nagged at you all morning, so much so that during your lunch hour, you popped by the job site with sandwiches for the two of you in hand. He grinned when he saw you, wiping sweat from off his brow and tugging you in for a quick kiss that had his buddies whistling and hollering from across the lot.

The noise quickly fades away when you spot Joel. He isn’t laughing with the others or even pretending to be busy. He’s just watching you, the heat of his stare making your stomach dip and your thighs press together on instinct. Shame and want collide in your chest when you remember how you rode his thigh, the rough denim of his jeans perfectly gliding against your soaked panties. The memory leaves you flushed, unable to meet Joel’s eyes for more than a second.

Your boyfriend drapes his arm casually over your shoulder leading you towards the bed of his truck which shakes you out of your thoughts. You’re able to enjoy your lunch sitting shoulder to shoulder on the edge of the tailgate, while he prattles on about being given shit for getting injured on the job. You laugh when appropriate but your eyes keep drifting, sweeping across the lot for another glimpse of those smoldering brown eyes.

Joel leans against the side of the trailer that brandishes his last name at the other end of the job site, arms crossed with that same unreadable look trained right on you. The sound of your boyfriend’s voice fades to a dull hum, your pulse roaring louder in your ears. He tilts his head in a motion that reads as come get it and the damage is done.

You make up some shoddy excuse about having to head back early, hopping off the tailgate and brushing the dirt off your skirt. Your boyfriend nods in understanding, already explaining that he needed to get back to laying drywall anyway or he’d be swinging overtime.

You watch him enter the half-finished building, giving him a little wave. You have to pass the trailer to get back to your car, so a conversation with Joel is inevitable. Except he doesn’t give you enough time to speak, grabbing your wrist and tugging you behind the mobile fixture. Your breathing picks up not only from surprise but also from fear, your eyes darting back towards the half-framed house just fifty feet away. “Joel—” you admonish, voice barely above a whisper.

After a few more steps, you see his truck parked in the shadows, tucked away between two recently completed buildings – hidden enough that someone walking by wouldn’t see it unless they were looking. 

Joel opens the rear driver’s side door and beckons you with a wave of his hand. You hesitate, heart hammering in your chest. “C’mon,” he mutters. “Ain’t got all day.”

Your feet move before your mind catches up, each step more reckless than the last. You shimmy past Joel, the air between you thick with anticipation and climb up onto the bench seat. He motions for you to turn and you follow the silent command, facing him as best you can.

He lays his hand on your knee, just below the hem of your skirt, his thumb dragging slow across your skin. He leans in, closing the distance between you and kisses you, stealing all the breath right out of your chest. It’s rough and filthy, all tongue and teeth, but you’re already leaning into it, clutching at his shirt like you need him to breathe. 

His hand inches slowly up under your skirt, passing over the inside of your bare thigh until he can feel the heat of your cunt. Your legs widen, allowing him to press the curve of his palm fully over your mound, and your hand flies to grip the driver’s headrest. He increases pressure, like he’s testing how fast he can unravel you, and you can’t help but grind against him. 

Joel breaks the kiss and you let out a whine which makes him chuckle, his laugh dark and satisfied. “You gonna let me fuck you right here?”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. But, the heat in your belly betrays you and Joel clocks it instantly. He shoves your underwear to the side, fingers immediately sliding through your slick folds. His breath hitches, a curse slipping from his lips. “Jesus.”

His eyes drop, fixated on the sight of your exposed cunt. He’s mesmerized at the way your folds part so easily for him and the slick sheen coating his fingers. The intensity of his gaze makes your brows pull together, your mouth falling open to whisper Joel’s name followed by a breathy plea for more. 

“Pretty little thing, just achin’ for attention, huh?” 

You nod and almost as if it were a reward, Joel plunges two thick fingers inside, stretching you open as his thumb rubs tight little circles against your clit. You jolt forward, grasping for any part of him you can hang onto, gasping at the sudden fullness. 

Joel doesn’t slow down, he pumps his fingers with purpose, every thrust sharper than the last. The sloppy sounds fill the cab and your thighs tremble helplessly around his wrist. “Fuck,” you curse, your head tilting back as Joel works you with a rough precision. 

He curls his fingers just right, dragging them against that tender spot inside you again and again, this thumb relentless against the swollen bud. The pressure builds fast, your body wound tight, teetering on the edge, your whole body begging to come apart under his hand. “M’close,” you whimper. 

You’re hovering at the edge, ready to snap, when just as the wave crests, Joel denies you, pulling his hand back and leaving you empty. You cry out, a sharp frustrated sound, and Joel clamps his unoccupied hand over your mouth. “Uh-uh. You wanna come, you do it on my cock.”

His hand drops to his belt, the metallic clink of the buckle making your stomach flip. He works the fly open with practiced ease, pushing denim and cotton down enough that his cock springs free and slaps against his belly.

Your breath catches and you let out a low moan, thankful his hand is still clamped over your mouth. His cock is gorgeous, massive in terms of its size, and flushed deep at the tip. He takes himself in his hand and strokes himself slowly, spreading the slick you left behind on his fingers. He looks almost too big for you to take, his hand not quite closing around his girth.

“Eyes up here,” Joel says, catching the way your eyes linger. “You’re starin’ like you ain’t ever seen a cock before.” Suddenly, you’re not sure if you have – not one like this anyhow. One that makes your mouth go dry and your pussy clench around nothing, like it’s already missing what it hasn’t had yet.

“Lie back,” he directs, patting at the side of your thigh. You lie back against the length of the back seat and Joel lifts your legs slightly and grips your waist, shimmying you until your legs dangle at the seat’s edge. He flips your skirt up, the hem falling over the waistband and tugs your panties down over your feet and slips them into his seat back pocket. 

He grabs himself at the base and taps his tip against your clit, the swollen crown slick with pre-come as it nudges at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Each smack sends a sharp jolt up your spine, your hips jerking upwards on instinct. Joel takes advantage, lining himself up and pressing inside you, making your breath stutter.

The stretch is overwhelming, your walls fluttering around him, trying to memorize every ridge and vein of his cock as he sinks in, inch by inch until he’s fully sheathed. Joel’s jaw is clenched tight, his chest heaving, relishing in the feeling of you taking him to the hilt. “Fuck, you’re a tight little thing,” he growls. “Stretchin’ just perfect ‘round me.” 

You feel like you’re floating with how good it feels to be split open like this, filled in a way that you didn’t even know you were missing out on. 

“Hey boss, got a question for you.”

Your heart lurches into your throat. It’s one of Joel’s employees and he stands not ten feet away. From where he is, he can’t see past the open truck door – the only thing visible being Joel’s head, shoulders, and boots. His cock is still buried inside you and your body strains to stay perfectly still as Joel turns his head. “S’anyone dead?”

The guy shakes his head quickly making something hot flare in your chest. You should be embarrassed or terrified at how close you just came to being caught, but instead you’re weirdly turned on by how easily Joel’s crew is intimidated by him with just a look. “Then I’ll come find you when I’m good and ready.” The other man swallows, backing off, his footsteps crunching across the gravel until they all but vanish completely. 

The silence that follows is deafening but short-lived, every muscle locked tight around Joel as he waits for further interruption. When it doesn’t come, his hands tighten their hold on your waist, dragging you closer until he’s able to lean in and press his chest against yours. Instead of thrusting, he rolls his hips in a slow grind that sends another pulse of slick over his cock. His mouth dips to your ear, voice rough and amused. “Now, where were we?”

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard, that low rasp in your ear as if the world outside the truck doesn’t exist. Your pussy clenches tight around him and Joel groans, snapping his hips with a brutal thrust that makes you go cross eyed. “Look at me,” he growls. 

You try but your lashes flutter, eyes threatening to roll back from the overwhelming drag of his cock. Joel doesn’t allow it. He removes his hand from where it's leaving a blistering grip on your waist and forces your face towards him. “Eyes right here.” 

When you finally meet his stare, his eyes are filled with nothing more than lust. With sweat beading at his temple, Joel slams forward, burying himself deep, and the sound that tears out of your throat is nothing short of a sob. 

“That’s it,” he asserts, hips pistoning into you, hitting that same spot every time that makes your toes curl. His grasp on your jaw shifts, thumb brushing the corner of your lips before sliding down your throat, holding you steady as his cock splits you open again and again. The truck creaks and rocks under the force of it, the leather squealing beneath your writhing body. “Fuckin’ look at me while I ruin this pussy.”

Your nails claw uselessly at the seat, choking on a moan as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. “Come for me,” he pants between thrusts. “Come on my cock.”

Your body gives in, clenching around him, the pressure snapping like a rubber band. Your orgasm tears through you so violently that you jerk upright, your body convulsing. One moment you’re sprawled across the seat, and the next you’re sitting up, legs wrapped around Joel’s middle as you clutch helplessly at his shoulders, shaking and sobbing into his chest as your cunt spasms around his cock.

Joel snarls at the distinct change of position and the feel of your pussy milking him, but he doesn’t stop.“Shit—fuckin’—oh god—gonna give it to ya." His rhythm falters, his breaths ragged, teeth grit together as he chases his own edge. He pulls out at the last second, cock slick and throbbing in his fist, and the first hot spurt of come paints your lower belly.

“Fuck—” Joel roared, pumping himself through it, every stroke wilder than the last as his release streaks your thighs and cunt, dripping down your skin in thick, messy ropes.

It’s equally filthy and terrifying. Your never let your boyfriend fuck you without a condom, never raw. He used to complain about it sometimes or pout while rolling the latex down his shaft, claiming that you were too rigid. You told yourself it was about being responsible, but now you realize that maybe deep down you never wanted him to leave his mark on you.

Now that Joel has, you can’t stop wondering what that says about you – that you’d never let your boyfriend bareback you, but you’d let Joel fuck you raw without hesitation. That you wanted him messy and unfiltered in a way you never wanted the man waiting at home.

Joel shoves his softening cock back into the confines of his pants with a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Look at that fuckin’ mess,” he coos. “Go ‘head and let it dry. Maybe next time I’ll give it to you where it belongs.”

It’s been weeks since you fucked Joel in the cab of his truck. Since you climbed off his lap, sick with what you had done and mumbled that it was all a mistake, promising that it wouldn’t happen again.

Since then you’ve been overcompensating at home, smothering your guilt in domesticity. You were the epitome of the perfect girlfriend. You cooked every meal, scrubbed the apartment until it was spotless, and even woke your boyfriend up with your mouth wrapped around his cock, like that would erase what you did. But every time his cock hit the back of your throat – or worse, when he pushed inside your cunt – you felt nothing. Just the hollow echo of how much you had already given to Joel.

You tried to fix it, to feel something again. You bought yourself a black lace bra and matching panties, thinking you just needed something different. A spark. A reminder of who you were before getting involved with Joel. 

It wasn’t just about the lingerie, it was about control. It was about telling yourself you could still reignite what was slipping away with your boyfriend if you tried hard enough. It was believing that the cracks in your relationship could disappear with silk and lace and a little more effort.

Yet, when you slid into those new panties, all you could think about was how Joel would react and not the man you’d supposedly bought them for. So much so that when you stretched out across the bed, snapped the picture, and hit send, you didn’t even realize who you had sent it to the wrong person.

Joel: Figures you’d come crawlin’ back sooner or later.

You gasp, hand flying to your mouth as the screen lights up with the very name you had been trying to ignore. Your stomach drops like you’d been punched and you curse your brain for playing this cruel prank.

You: Wasn’t meant for you.

Joel: Sure it wasn’t.

You: I meant what I said last time.

Joel: You mean when I was balls deep in your sloppy little cunt?

You swallow harshly. Your pussy betrays you, clenching around nothing, remembering the wide stretch of Joel’s cock and the ache you were left with when he pulled out. You groan as you replay your last interaction, guilt seeping in as you recall how you had let his drying come stay on you for hours, only flaking off when you took a shower the next morning.

As if the universe was taunting you, daring you to make a misstep, you hear the slow creep of your boyfriend’s truck make its way down the driveway.

You: No, when I said this was a mistake.

Joel: C’mon now, don’t go leavin’ me all hard and wantin’.

You: I have to go.

Joel: Why? Boyfriend home?

Joel: You gonna let his sorry excuse for a cock fuck you while you’re wearin’ that?

You: I’m not doing this, Joel.

Joel: Just do one thing for me.

Your whole body tenses. You know you should have the sense to block him and shut this down for good, but instead you wait with bated breath for what he’ll ask of you.

Joel: Go to the bathroom.  

Joel: Lock the door.

Joel: Spread your legs.

Joel: Let me see.

The rattle of keys in the deadbolt make your stomach lurch. You bolt into the bathroom, shoving your panties down in a rush. You spread your thighs wide and slide two fingers between your folds, prying them apart so the camera can see your drooling cunt. You take one quick snap with the camera and hit send. 

You yank your robe around you, knotting the belt tight before stepping out to greet your boyfriend, just inside the front door, toeing off his boots. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and mumbles, “Gonna hop in the shower,” already heading down the hall. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

Joel: Good girl.

The line is blurred for good after that. Guilt be damned. You’ve made it a habit to show up at Joel’s house any time your boyfriend texts you that he’s going to be working extra late. You knew where the hidden spare key was and you often were there before he was, stretched across his couch wearing one of his old flannels, open with nothing underneath.

Joel doesn’t say a word at first, just shuts the door, drops his keys and allows himself to stare. His gaze sweeps up your legs to the crease of your thighs and over the swell of your tits. He crosses the room in three strides and drops to his knees like he’s been waiting all day for this. He rucks the flannel up past your bellybutton where it’s out of the way and pries your thighs open, diving between your legs. 

He doesn’t tease. His tongue slides out and drags a wet strip from your entrance to your clit. “Joel—” you gasp, one hand fisting his hair. He groans against you, savoring the taste of your cunt, the sound vibrating straight through you as he seals his mouth over the stiffened bud. His stubble burns your thighs, but the scrape of it only makes you grind harder into his face. 

“Bet he can’t make you come just from his fuckin’ tongue, huh?” The words hit sharp, dragging your boyfriend right back into the room when the last thing you want is to think about him. You lift your head to meet his eyes and he can tell that you’re about to tell him off. 

He smirks, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he spits straight onto your pussy. His hot saliva splatters over your folds and drips down your slit. Your breath catches, your irritation dissolving instantly, replaced with an incessant hunger. Joel watches your reaction, lowering his head, his mouth returning to where you need him most. 

​​Your back arches off the couch, the flannel falling open around your chest, revealing your breasts to him. Joel looks up from under his eyelashes and stalls, groaning as he abandons your cunt, leaning up to capture one of your peaked nipples between his lips. The scrape of his teeth has you crying out, moaning his name, his hand kneading your other breast. Joel’s beard scratches over the swell of your tits as he swaps sides, worshiping you with his mouth, sucking hard until your nipple aches. 

“Joel—,” you whimper, your voice breaking as his teeth graze over your nipple again. “Need your mouth on my pussy.”

“Knew I’d get you beggin’ sooner or later,” he mumbles against your skin, his eyes flashing up to yours with a teasing glint. He releases your breast and drags himself until he’s back on his knees. “Sweet little thing, askin’ so nice…” he drawls, hovering just above your mound, his breath hot against your slick folds. “S’only fair I give you what you’re cryin’ for.”

He’s on you in an instant. He buries his face between your legs, sloppy and relentless, licking and sucking until your slick coats his chin. His mouth works like he’s starving. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t check if you’re close – he knows,  he can feel it in the way your thighs tremble and your hand fists in his hair, trying to tug him closer.

Joel doesn’t show you any mercy. He pins your hips down with the weight of his forearm and keeps going, tongue fucking into you, then circling your clit until your breath is ragged, every sound breaking free of your throat as you near that sweet blessed relief.

“Please,” you whimper, your voice wrecked and desperate. You scramble for the collar of his shirt and yank him up, dragging his mouth from your cunt. “Please, Joel. Need your cock.”

His mouth glistens with your slick, spit and arousal smeared across his lips. He smirks like the devil himself, eyes completely dark with lust. “Go on then,” he rasps. “Take it out.”

Your hands shake as they drop to his jeans, fumbling to unfasten the button with clumsy movements. When finally you’re successful, you celebrate by dragging down the zipper and shoving at the denim until his cock slips free. 

The broad crown is red and angry, slick with pre-come that you can’t help but to smear across his tip. “Fuck,” he grits out between clenched teeth. You bring your hand lower, wrapping your fingers as best you can around the base of his cock, giving it a few tentative pumps. He’s heavy in your palm and each slow stroke makes his hips twitch and your head start to cloud.

Joel shoves your hand away and pushes your thighs wider,  “That’s enough playin’ with it,” he comments, crawling over you and lining himself up with a rough stroke. He presses in, the thick head breaching your entrance, and the stretch of it knocks the air from your lungs. Your cunt clamps down around him as he buries every inch into you, his head dropping to your shoulder. “So fuckin’ tight every time.”

He pulls back slow, dragging every ridge and vein of his cock along your walls until he’s nearly out, then pushes forward again in one long thrust. You gasp, clinging to him, your nails biting at his back, moaning as he fills you completely. He does it again, forcing you to take the stretch over and over until your hips are chasing his.

When you let out a broken sound that sounds like his name, something in him snaps. He grips you steady and the rhythm of his hips completely changes. He fucks into you hard with rough, brutal strokes, the couch creaking in time with the way his balls slap against your ass. 

Every thrust scrambles your brain, leaving you glassy-eyed and slack-jawed, your whole body clinging to him like the only thing you know is the stretch of his cock. “You love this, don’t you?” he growls, his mouth hot against your ear. “Fuckin’ sneakin’ around, gettin’ dumb off my cock.”

You nod helplessly, too far gone to deny it. The shame only makes the heat coil tighter inside, your cunt pulling him in deeper. Joel groans at the way you squeeze him, his hips continuing their punishing pace. “Where d’you want me to come?” 

Your mouth opens, nothing but a moan slipping out, too engulfed in your own pleasure to form words. “Where d’you want it?” he repeats. Joel’s pace stutters for half a second before pulling himself completely free, leaving you empty, your cunt clenching around nothing.

You cry out, writhing underneath him, your hands weakly pulling at him, attempting to get him back inside. “Uh-uh. You tell me where you want it or you don’t get it at all.” He fists his cock, dragging the wet head along your swollen slit. 

The ache is unbearable, your body strung tight, desperate for release. You let out a whine and keen your hips upwards, finally admitting what you truly want. “Inside — please, Joel. Fuck me. Come inside me.”

Joel shoves back into you in one harsh thrust, burying himself to the root, and your orgasm is instantaneous. It’s blinding, your vision going white-hot behind your eyelids, every nerve set alight as your entire body shakes beneath him. 

Joel’s own climax crashes as your pussy squeezes the life out of him. His hips jerk, grinding deep, cock pulsing hard as he spills hot inside you. You feel every throb of him, his creamy spend dripping out around the base of his cock and down your ass.

Your body’s trembling with the aftershocks, cunt still clenching weakly around him, trying to wring him for all he’s worth, and Joel groans rough against your throat. You whimper, completely overstimulated, the mix of your slick and his spend seeping out, and Joel finally pulls back just enough to watch it dribble out. His cock slides free, and his eyes darken at the sight of his come leaking from your swollen pussy. “Jesus. Could fuckin’ blow another load just from the sight of that.”

He catches a string of come and pushes it back into you with his finger, your cunt fluttering around him. “Have fun explainin’ this to your little boyfriend.”

You always go to Joel’s. That’s the rule. It’s safer that way. Less chance of anyone catching on, especially your boyfriend. You’ve figured out how to keep the lines clean so that nothing bleeds over. Joel’s place is where you can let go and ignore the guilt of your infidelity. Your place is where you play the role of the good girlfriend. 

As long as the lines don’t blur, you tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself that you’re buying time until you sort out whatever all this is – what you feel for Joel, or more honestly, what you don’t feel anymore for the man you go home to. The boundaries make it easier to lie, both to him and to yourself. 

Which is why the unexpected knock at your door tonight makes your stomach churn. When you open it, you’re surprised to find Joel leaning against one of the porch posts, one foot crossed over the other. “Your boy’ll be late,” he explains, heading into the house without an invitation. He grabs one of your hands and pulls you to him, kicking the door shut. “Pissed him off real good. Got him rehanging drywall on the second floor.” 

You stumble against Joel’s chest as the door shuts with a thud and he presses you back into the door, caging you with his body. “Figured it’d just be easier if I came to you,” he explains. 

You look a mess, clad in only your tiniest sleep shorts and a thin white tank top, but Joel drinks in your appearance like you’re an oasis in a desert. You open your mouth, about to speak, but  Joel cuts you off with a look, eyes dark and jaw set tight. “Don’t start. You knew I’d come here sooner or later.”

He places one hand on your shoulder, running his fingers down the entire length of your arm, grinning when he sees you shudder and feels the goosebumps rise over your skin.

“You said we’d keep it separate,” you breathe, half protest and half plea.

Joel huffs a humorless laugh, leaning down until his mouth is hovering over yours. “Yeah, well. Changed my mind.” He crashes his lips into yours and you feel the air leave your lungs. He hauls your thigh over his hip, allowing him to grind the thick line of his cock against your core.

“Bet you been waitin’ on me,” he mumbles against your lips. “Playin’ house with him, all the while soakin’ through those pretty little panties of yours.” He swallows your moan and continues to kiss you until you’re both breathless. His hand drops from your thigh and he spins you around to swat at your ass. “Couch.” he directs, the heavy tread of his boots following you as you march across the room.

He stops you before you sit, maneuvering you until you’re bent over the armrest, his palm flat between your shoulder blades, pressing you down until your cheek brushes the fabric of the cushions. 

He shucks your shorts and panties down past the swell of your ass, leaving them pooled at your feet. Cool air hits your slick folds, your ass bared to him, and you gasp at the sudden exposure. “Fuck,” Joel grunts, his voice dropping low. “Pretty little pussy’s just waitin’ for me. Good thing I showed up.”

You hear the shift of his boots against the floor and half-expect to feel the hard length of his cock press into you. Instead, Joel drops to his knees, baring you to him. The first lick is filthy as he holds you open, spreading you wide so that his tongue drags up through your folds then plunges inside. Your fingers dig into the fabric of the couch and you instinctively press yourself further into Joel. 

He devours you, sloppily lapping at your entrance, his tongue fucking you in ways you have never experienced before. You could already feel your brain start to haze, eyes rolling to the back of your head and glossing over as you cry out his name. 

His hand reaches between your legs, blindly searching for your clit from underneath. He lightly pinches it between his thumb and pointer finger making you moan into the couch cushions. As drool started to pool at the corner of your mouth, Joel continued his ministrations, his mouth licking at you like he’s starved while his fingers began to rub over your clit in tight circles. 

Your legs tremble, knees threatening to give out as you feel the familiar coil of your orgasm. Joel can feel it too and he snakes his free arm around your waist to hold you steady. “S’alright,” he mutters against your soaked folds, pulling back just enough to be heard. “Soak my face.” He pins you down with his weight, his hand over your hip, the other still grinding rough circles into your clit as his tongue dives into you again.

You cry out, your knees buckling, but Joel’s there, keeping you upright as your orgasm violently thrashes through you. Your cunt flutters against his tongue, the muscles of your entrance contracting around him as you ride out the blissful wave. 

Joel pushes up from his knees, the wet drag of his mouth finally leaving your cunt. You sag against the couch arm, breath ragged, but don’t get more than a second of relief. Behind you, you hear the jingle of Joel’s belt and the pull of his zipper. “Up,” he orders, guiding your hips so your back arches for him. 

You hear the wet slap of his cock in his fist as he strokes himself, spreading your slick across his length. “Still drippin’ for me,” Joel purrs, lining himself up with your swollen entrance. “Perfect little hole’s just beggin’ for this.”

Joel pushes in with one thrust, splitting you open around his cock. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, setting a merciless pace, hips slamming into you making his balls slap wetly against your overstimulated clit. Your ears are ringing, every nerve fried until there's nothing left but Joel – his cock keeping you impossibly full, his voice rough in your ear, the heavy weight of his body pinning you down.

You don’t hear the rattle of the doorknob or notice the creak of boots on the floorboards. You’re too far gone, moaning Joel’s name into the couch, begging him to keep fucking you. The front door clicks open and Joel’s gaze lifts over your trembling body and locks onto the man standing in the doorway. 

Joel’s thrusts don’t falter, if anything they get rougher. He digs his fingers into your hips, pounding into you with every ounce of strength in his body, every stroke driving you forward, all the while keeping steady eye contact with your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend freezes at the door, wide-eyed and silent as he takes in the sight before him. Joel bares his teeth in a dark grin, never stopping, never pulling out.

“Yeah, baby,” Joel growls loudly, just for him. “Tell me you love this cock.”

You moan, oblivious to your boyfriend’s presence and submit to Joel’s request. “Love it – love your cock, Joel. S’perfect.”

Joel watches your boyfriend break, the blood draining from his face as you babble on about his cock. He tries to speak, but no sound comes out. He just stares as Joel pounds into you again and again. 

“N’where you want me to come, baby?” Joel doesn’t let up, his cock continuing to spear you. “You want it in this tight little pussy, just how you like it?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes narrow at Joel, challenging him, already knowing what you answer will be.  

“Please, Joel,” you cry out. “Please come in me – need to feel it.”

Your boyfriend turns on his heel and leaves, slamming the door behind him. Joel finally lets go, the loss of the audience spurring him on as he fucks into you harder, chasing his high with ruthless precision. He drives into you with one last, punishing thrust and feels his release flood your cunt, thick ropes of his come painting your insides white.

You’re shaking, your cheek mashed against the couch, too strung out to process anything beyond the molten heat filling you and the way Joel’s cock throbs inside as he empties himself. You hear Joel’s voice, though the words barely register past a dull murmur. His softened cock slips out of you and then in one smooth movement, his arms lift you with no effort at all. You sag against his chest, still blissed-out, your head lolling against his shoulder as he carries you down the hall.

You don’t resist when he sets you on the closed lid of the toilet, your body limp, your skin still buzzing from everything he wrung out of you. He helps to remove the rest of your clothes and then works the shower handles with careful precision, one hand testing the water until it’s warm enough. By the time you’ve found the strength to move your legs again, Joel is already guiding you into the tub, steadying you until you’re standing under the spray.

The hot water washes over you, rinsing away the evidence of your shared transgression, but it doesn’t touch the haze. You stand there for what feels like forever, unaware of the gravity of what had just unfolded – oblivious to the plight of the man whose heart you just shattered.

Eventually, you shut the water off and step out onto the bath mat to begin toweling yourself down. You call out to Joel, mentioning that he needs to go because your boyfriend will be home soon. Joel appears in the door frame, jaw tightly set although his eyes read more as resignation. “Yeah, m’not so sure about that.”

Confusion prickles at your skin. You wrap the towel around yourself and shoulder past him, reaching for your phone from where it lies on the coffee table, half-expecting to see a missed call or a casual check-in. Instead, the screen lights up with a single unread message. Fuck you. Fuck him. I don’t ever want to see your face again.

Your stomach drops immediately, panic rising in your chest as tears prick at your eyes. You can’t tell if it’s guilt, shame, or something worse but it completely overtakes your emotions. All you know is that your boyfriend – no, ex-boyfriend – found out that you were sleeping with Joel.

 “What the fuck, Joel?” Your voice cracks, sharp with grief and rage that you can’t direct anywhere else. You shove at his chest, desperate for answers. “What the fuck did you do?”

Joel doesn’t fight back, he just accepts your fists, your tears, and your fear. His big hands come up slow, wrapping around your wrists and pulling you gently into his chest. “I didn’t do nothin’. He seen what he needed to see, s’all.” 

The words gut you, the tears finally spilling down your cheeks. You thrash weakly against him, but Joel just gathers you closer. His mouth brushes your temple, his breath steady even as you unravel. “Nothin’ to do about it now,” he admits. “He’s gone. M’here. Ain’t that what matters?”

You cry harder because after everything has splintered apart, Joel’s arms are the ones holding you together. You bury yourself into his chest, breathing in his scent and for a brief moment, you believe that everything might work out. 

“And I ain’t going anywhere.”

[youandmeand5bucks]

How I haven’t seen this until now is beyond me but wow. Nasty boss Joel could do whatever he wanted with me

[broad-shouldrs]

that man could ask me to do the nastiest things and i would do it, no questions asked.

thank you for reading 💜