girl next door tongue fucks dilfs ass | pervy!dbf!joel x f!reader
masterlist | notifs blog | tlou & palestine
pairing: pervy!dbf!joel x f!reader
summary: a mix-up leads to joel finding your search history. turns out he wants a starring role in making the cheesy pornos you watch a reality.
warnings: (18+ mdni) same joel as fair's fair, but you don't need to read that fic for context, age gap, porn without plot tbh, smut, degradation, humiliation, porn mentions, rimming/ass eating, exhibitionism mentions, f!masturbation, jerking joel off, joel calls reader kiddo, i wrote this in 2 days and had a blasst, asshole!joel gets his asshole eaten, cheesy title based on porn (sorry)
word count: 5.2k
a/n: was not expecting my last ass eating fic to be so divisive. sorry for writing another — it will happen again <3 thank you to @lovesickonmybed for curating the moodboard, sitting on the doc with me, and being wonderful in general. @ovaryacted & @joelsdagger for being ENABLERS. hope y'all like this <3 mwah mwah mwah. if there r any typos pls ignore i proofread a bit but im wiped out.
You’ve never been known for virtuosity. Growing up in the south, many of your classmates were raised with pewter purity rings beneath their knuckles and Mary Janes glued to their feet. You were the one all the sweet Catholic girls were forbidden to be around, as if your presence would ignite the Lord’s distaste. You never grasped why you were excluded from their birthday parties, never invited to playdates, or always talked about as a miscreant — but now, you think you might have a hunch.
Maybe those WASP moms could see through to the version of yourself that you are right now, taking full advantage of your time home alone. Phone in one hand, with your other shoved haphazardly beneath your lacy waistband to flick at your slippery clit. You whimper, hips rutting against the pads of your fingers, eyes fluttering. Heat ribbons through your veins and around your spine. You eye the trashy porn currently playing out behind your cracked screen protector — VIRGIN SLUT DEVOURS DILF’S ASS. You try to tell yourself it’s because the ‘virgin slut’ in question has your body type, but the DILF in question is… topical.
Three short days ago, Joel, your dad’s infamously perverted best friend, had finally taken the initiative to make things sexual with you. As much as he’d been smacking your ass lately and not-so-subtly eyeing you up, none of that cold hold a needle to the time he’d cupped the back of your head and shoved you face first into his armpit. You’d licked and sniffed at his musk until you’d come completely untouched. Later, you’d watched him fuck his own fist, back arching off of his mattress, and that’d been that.
Except… it really wasn’t just that. You’ve been glued to your phone watching the nastiest, raunchiest stuff you didn’t used to be into — until you’d imagined Joel being the one to do them to you. (Hell, you didn’t know wedgies and tickling were kinks. But you’d sure as shit stumbled across the pornstars making a living off of them.)
Rimming is the most recent of your fascinations. The star of this video, a beefy middle-aged man with thick thighs and a plump ass, is just as domineering as Joel had been. He’s on his knees with his ass up, body braced on one folded elbow while his other hand cups the back of the woman’s head. He holds her down as she whines, tongue circling around his asshole. The camera zooms in, capturing the little smatterings of hair along his cheeks. “Just like that. Get in there good, girl,” the DILF says. You whimper, closing your eyes and imagining it’s Joel saying that. Joel’s skin on your tongue. His hips hitching under your mouth. His thighs tensing as he paints his belly with cum.
A new surge of slick rushes down your fingers and you whine as your stomach tightens into a double knot of pleasure. You’re so close, teetering over that precious edg–
The doorbell rings.
Your dad wasn’t supposed to be home until five. It is midnight.
With a frustrated groan, you chuck your phone facedown and scrub your hand along your face. You tug your hand out of your soaked panties, breath still sawing in and out of you as you wipe your juices off your hand with a tissue from your nightstand. The doorbell rings again. “Jesus, I’m coming!” you shout. You should be coming. You shove your phone in your pocket and head downstairs.
You unlock the door between cluttered grumbles and yank it open. “You should have a key by now, dude,” you start telling your dad. Except it’s not your dad’s figure blocking the doorway, eclipsing the simmering Texan sun. It’s the very object of your degenerate fantasies — Joel Miller himself.
Joel had tried everything to avoid going to your place. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at your house, only able to think of the moment you two had shared in the garage. When he’d defiled you, right underneath your father’s roof. His eyes feel gritty from the thought, how all those degrading words had rolled off of his tongue like they belonged there. His best buddy’s little girl, licking and nipping at his fucking armpit. He squashed that thought quickly. The memory makes his blood rush south all over again.
When his phone ran out of juice as he was putting in a request for supplies he needed ASAP, he’d grabbed his charger. Except after he plugged it in, the battery only sporadically caught a charge. It made that irritating pinging noise repeatedly. He adjusted the angle enough times that he felt like he was taking measurements on a job site before giving up.
He prowled around Sarah’s room for a spare, except she must’ve stuffed hers in her duffel bag for her sleepover at Emma’s house tonight. After that dead end, he unplugged her galaxy light. It wasn’t the same shape. Port. Contact. Whatever the hell it is. He remembers vividly three years back when Sarah had seen some sort of viral video about making a charger out of a potato. She didn’t shut up about it for a week until he came home with two potatoes. One ended up as a failed charger, and the other had been dinner. With no spare wires in this house, Sarah at Emma’s, and every single store within fifteen miles closed for the night, it’s looking like he’ll have to wait for the morning.
Except he’s got a packed week. The prissy nepo baby’s ‘dream house’ he’s working on wants everything done quickly and well. She had them install the tiles for her kitchen only to decide when they were halfway through with the marble tiles that she wanted rose quartz. God forbid she throw another fucking temper tantrum.
Joel looked at the potatoes on the counter, then to your bedroom window. The lamp was on. He sighed.
He had never before wished potatoes could emit electricity, but he was now. Then, he’d toed on his Crocs and shuffled next door. He rang the bell, waiting with bated breath.
“Jus’ take your sweet time,” he says to your porch as he hears you thunking down the stairs. “Ain’t like the skeeters ain’t eatin’ me alive out here,” he grumbles.
“—should have a key by now, dude,” you say as you tug the door. You blink at him several times. He can see your shock through the screen door in the furrow of your brows. “Fuck are you doing here?”
“Real warm welcome for a neighbor,” Joel says, shouldering past the screen door. He scratches at the back of his neck, swallowing. He eyes the soft curve of your lips and the squint of your eyes. In the porch light, your sweat-slick complexion shimmers. You’re panting. Must’ve run a hell of a marathon to get down here, even if you were slower than a turtle. Unless–
No. He’s gotta get his brain outta the gutter, which seems to be his dick’s place of residence.
“My charger’s busted. Needa do some work stuff. Was hopin’ I could snag yours.”
“Well what if I’m charging my phone?”
Joel points to the suspiciously phone-shaped outline in your pocket. “Chargin’ your phone my ass. C’mon, do me a solid, I’ll owe ya.”
“You already owe me.”
“Yeah, for what?”
“That time I tutored Sarah when she had a C in–”
“Alright, alright. I’ll owe ya twice, how ‘bout that?” You roll your eyes and turn, already heading back for the stairs. “Wait,” Joel says, snagging you by your wrist. A week ago, he would have snapped your bra strap against your skin to get your attention. Now he feels nauseous at the idea. He’d already disrespected you so wholly once before. It’s not as if he has any further left to go. “Could I borrow yours in the meantime? Y’know… mine kinda takes a second to get some juice. I want to get a jump on looking for what my client needs.”
“That washed up producer’s daughter with five thousand Spotify listens per month? Yeah, dad told me about her. I’ll let you. But only ‘cause I pit you. She sounds like a nightmare.” You fish around for your phone, type in the pin, and smack it against his palm. “No snooping,” you say, holding a finger in front of his face.
“‘Course not,” he says. “Thanks, kiddo.”
You pull a face at that. Before he can apologize, you’re already halfway up the stairs.
Joel resists the urge to kick himself the entire way to the couch. He curls up against the arm rest. He hears you kicking and rifling about upstairs as he searches your phone for any sort of search engine. He wishes he would’ve brought his readers over, too, but that much foresight had been lost on him. Settling for squinting at the glowing screen, he taps on Chrome. A tab whooshes open. Immediately, Joel’s bombarded with artificial, keening moans, the ragged coaxing of, ‘C’mon, honey, doing so well for me’ blurring out of the speakers. His eyes widen as he scrambles to lower the volume. He’s about to slam the phone down and never make eye contact with you ever again when he spies the title of this particular porno.
VIRGIN SLUT DEVOURS DILF’S ASS.
Heat wobbles up his face, ripening his cheeks. His thighs warm and stir, enough to harden his far too attentive cock. Jesus Christ.
Did you mean to do this? No — you don’t have that kinda foresight. You’re crafty and a goddamn temptress, but that doesn’t make you some sort of mastermind who’s scheming to get back into his pants. If you were, though — this would be a good way of doing it. You must’ve been right there before he’d shown up on your doorstep. You had still been panting. His head hadn’t been in the gutter. He’d been right. Nasty little slut.
His eyes land on the woman who’s advertised as a ‘virgin slut’ but is about 100 videos past virginity if her channel bio is telling the truth. She’s built a lot like you — has the same shoulders, same hips. Her tongue hungrily swirls between the DILF’S cheeks. He’s pretty sure he knows who you’re imagining that to be.
They share the same skin tone, the same bow in their backs, the same scattered patches of hair along the backs of their thighs and cheeks. He envisions you with a hand stuffed in your dangerously tight shorts, rutting against it. Tongue lolling out as you imagine rimming him. He smothers a groan at the thought.
The video keeps rolling as he stares in disbelief. The man groans, spreading his cheeks wider and pushes back onto the woman’s face. She slurps his asshole. Joel imagines holding your head in place, stroking your jaw as you work your tongue on him. Your lips, your tongue, doing exactly what he just watched, but to him. His cock twitches at the thought of you between his legs, licking, sucking, wanting.
All his attempts to shut you out of his brain come bursting out of the floodgates. A dam breaking, fattening his cock.
Joel’s eyes flick to the stairs. He can still hear you rummaging around. Curiosity kills the cat as he presses your history button.
Naughty whore punished with ass eating humiliation. girl next door tongue fucks dilfs ass. DESPERATE BITCH BEGS TO EAT ASS.
It shouldn’t surprise him. After you’d finished licking his pits, you had a geyser in your panties they’d only found in Yellowstone before. You’re a fucking freak, and goddamn if it doesn’t make the gears in his head turn.
Joel adjusts his bulge, raging tight against his boxers. He swallows the newly formed lump in his throat. His stomach burns. The things he could do to you, if he were to let himself. You’re practically fucking begging for it. If he were to slip his hand along your abdomen, past the gusset of your panties, and cup your mound, would you already be ready for him? The way he’s ready for you?
Upstairs, he hears a loud bang, followed by a resounding “FUCK!”
After wrestling with your extension cord, you’d finally grabbed your charger for Joel to borrow. Not without escaping unscathed. A swollen pit throbs on your head, and you rub it absently with the heel of your palm as you trudge downstairs. “The shit I do for you,” you remark under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. You plod across the living room, tossing your charger Joel’s way. “Can I have my phone back yet, Miller?”
He quirks a brow at you. “If you answer me a question.” You roll your eyes and cross your arms, planting your feet. This dick. “You usually get off watchin’ shitty three-star pornos?”
Cold slithers around your gut as you stare blankly at him. Oh fuck. Shit. Son of a– “Excuse me?” You’re an idiot. All hat, no cattle. Lights on, nobody home. Joel had seen–
“‘Virgin slut devours DILF’s ass’,” Joel reads out in a monotonous voice. He wolf-whistles. “A little on the nose, ain’t it? But hey, whatever gets ya goin’.”
“G-get the hell out,” you say, snatching your charger off of his lap. Your eyes stall on his straining, blatant hard-on. A new wave of slick spills out of you. You have to bite your tongue not to lick your lips. “You’re a fucking… pervert. Nasty. You’re nasty, Joel.”
“And you ain’t? Got a whole waterfall in those britches of yours, I bet. I mean, this guy looks a whole lot like me, don’t he? Got the DILF thing going on too. Yeah, you’d be into older men. Look at ya,” he all but croons.
You look down at yourself, gesturing at nothing in frustration. “I told you no snooping. Guess your selectively hearing ass heard go snooping.” You swing in close to snatch your phone, but he holds it out of reach.
“Answer the question, kiddo. You like watching porn all the time, or just when you’re tryna imagine your daddy’s buddy?” He smirks up at you. You make another grab for your phone, and you’re not sure why. The damage is already done. But Joel — Joel makes you feel so, so out of control.
“You’re being an asshole, Joel,” you say, too exasperated to police your word choice.
“Yeah, but you like eatin’ ‘em. Don’t you, sweetheart?” You sputter, dragging your hands down your face. As if letting him debase you in the garage, no matter how good it felt, wasn’t enough. This is ten thousand times worse. “Gotta say. You’re a ‘lil sick in the head for that….” He tuts at you, clicking his tongue.
“Not as sick in the head as you. Going through my search history. Taunting me about it. And— and— the whole pitcident.”
“Pitcident?” he asks, raising an amused brow. “Thas’ a new one.”
“Would you rather I say the whole thing? That you held your buddy’s daughter down against your musky ass armpit and made me lick it clean? That you liked it so much that you jerked yourself off after knowing I was getting an eyeful of it?”
His throat bobs. He seems to think about it for a moment before he tilts his head at you. “Kiddo, you woulda creamed all over me if I took a breath in the direction of your swollen little clit. Didn’t even have to do that to get that pussy droolin’ for me. Bet it’s doin’ it now.” He gets up, dropping your phone onto the couch cushion. It bounces before sliding against a throw pillow. “Tell me,” he says, voice low. “You touch yourself to this shit, honey?”
“Why?” you ask, holding eye contact with him in defiance.
“Seems like a waste… when you could be gettin’ the real thing.”
Your mouth goes dry. Uncontrollably, your cunt pulses between your legs. “Jesus, Joel–”
“Been wonderin’ since you put your mouth on my pit how your tongue would feel on my cock. On my ass…. Same thoughts as you, I’d bet. Yeah?”
You swallow, forcing breaths back into your too-tight lungs. “Yeah,” you say. “I… fuck.”
“Ask nicely, kiddo. I’ll consider indulging you.”
“Seriously?”
“‘S that what you want, kiddo? Want your pretty face between my cheeks while I laugh at you for how desperate ya are for it?” Your vision swims. Joel is heady, alluring. You can’t pry your eyes away from him. It’s easy to remember how you bent to his whims last time. “Yeah, thought so,” he hums. “Already in this habit ‘a mouthin’ off at me. Ought show some respect. Could be a whole lot meaner to ya. Or we could do this the easy way, sugar. Your call.”
Your face feels scalding hot, eyes watering with something like arousal. Your thighs clamp together, squeezing in attempts to get some friction on your neglected, weeping cunt. “Please,” you rasp, voice more animalistically needy than you’d expected.
Joel rolls his eyes. “You askin’ for the table salt or to lick my ass, kiddo?”
“Jesus Christ, you’re picky. Okay, your royal highness. Please, can I lick your perfect, majestic, incredible ass?”
Joel reaches out and grabs your chin. You whimper as skin prickles under his calloused touch. He presses his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks, teeth shelving against the insides of your mouth. “Like I said. Mouthy. I’ll fix that, kiddo. Probably won’t ever wanna open your mouth again after you get what you wish for.” He gives your face a light slap, hardly enough to feel the thud of his palm against your skin. Still, your head rings.
Joel grabs you by the back of your neck and shoves you down onto your knees. You grunt at the whirlpool of colors blurring around your head, at the wood grains of the floor meshing into your kneecaps. He stands, facing the back of the suede couch. “Go ‘head, kid. If ya want it so bad.”
You balk, staring at what you’re now face-to-face with. Joel’s ass, plump and thick and covered by his boxers and a thin layer of sleep shorts. He shuffles, sticking his ass out a bit.
“Don’t be chicken. Put your money where your mouth is.” He taps the back of your neck, urging you on. You tug at the stretchy waistband of his shorts and let them slide down to his ankles.
You scrutinize his choice of footwear. “Crocs? Really?”
“Do what you’re good for and kiss. My. Ass,” Joel says.
You probably should’ve expected that.
You lure his boxers down, breath hitching when you see how his cheeks come together. He’s warm, with a physique made for worship. Your mouth works as you swallow, mouth watering at the thought of getting your tongue in there. Instead of going for the throat, you start slowly.
You plant a kiss where his left cheek meets his thigh, tongue peeking out to stir at the soft patch of skin there. You press sloppy little kisses along the globes of his ass. One here, one there, a couple nearing his cleft. The very tip of your tongue pokes out of your lips to do a sweep of the inside of his right cheek. At this, Joel lets a breathy sigh out.
“Got a perfect fuckin’ mouth.”
“I know,” you quip. You lean in and take a deep breath of a scent that’s so undeniably Joel. He’s cleaner this time, not fresh off of the lawn mower. He smells more like the Dr. Squatch soap you’d usually find in a Walmart aisle. You know from visiting his house that his bathrooms are stocked with the stuff. It’s woodsy and outdoorsy, a gingery pine aroma that wafts up your nostrils. You sigh and nuzzle into his skin.
“Ain’t a Bath and Body Works.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you grumble.
“Like I said. Sick in the head, likin’ all this odd shit.”
You spit into your palm and reach around, giving his cock a quick pump. It twitches in your head. His head tips forward, groaning and shoving his ass closer to your face. You smother a laugh. “You like it too, old man.” As you tug your hand down, you give his balls a generous squeeze. Then, you reach to spread him proper.
You damn near get heart eyes as you eye his pucker. Tan and blending into the rest of his skin, wrinkled and in dire need of attention. You lean in and throw him into the deep end with a broad stroke of your tongue along his hole. His hips jerk, a stunned noise ripping out of his lips.
“Fuck. Yeah, attagirl.” You groan into him, starting to swirl your tongue around. It whorls around his hole. You sweep softly along the inside of each of his cheeks, spit dribbling down his skin and along his taint. “Knew you’d make a good ass wipe. ‘S what you’re good for. Cleanin’ me up…”
You whimper, legs squeezing together needily. Your tongue swoops along the bend of his hole. Your thumbs dig into the insides of his cheeks so you can really nudge your tongue in there. Shallowly, you fuck your tongue in and out of his hole. Joel groans, hips thrusting against your face. “Goddamn,” he says through a hiss. He looks over his shoulder at you. Your eyes are needy and lidded, tongue hanging out as you work it against him. “Look atcha. There ya go, kiddo. Needy ‘lil slut for me…”
You hum in agreement as you flick your tongue up and down, left and right. You bob your head, determined to work him up properly. You slobber all over him. Little whines and whimpers hitch out of your mouth as you slurp and suck on his asshole. “Oughta keep you down there all day. Fuck, looks like it’s right where ya belong. Nose squished under my balls, breathin’ in my musk while you drool all over my ass. Be nice, havin’ a little cushion while I watch some ball games, do my work.” He cuts off into a strangled moan when you thrust your tongue inside of him properly, swirling it as deep inside of him as you can get it.
You reach up to cup his balls, work your grip along his length, but he snatches your wrist when it’s halfway there. “Nuh uh, sweetie. Ain’t deservin’ of this cock. Gotta earn that privilege back after bein’ a naughty whore. Watchin’ all that porn. On your daddy’s WiFi. Got no shame, hm?”
“N-not my fault you left me high and dry–” you stammer out between kitten licks at his hole.
“Didn’t leave ya dry. Left you wetter than a fire hydrant. And if you wanna be high, I’m sure I could get a sex swing off ‘a Facebook Marketpla–”
“Jesus Christ, shut up and let me eat your ass.” He laughs, head hanging low towards the couch. You keep your palms splayed along his cheeks, baring him to you so you can pleasure him in a way that has long been foreign to both of you. He makes a choked noise as you purposefully twist and flutter the point of your tongue into his opening. His hips jerk, holer quivering around you.
“Goddamn, kiddo— shit, thas’ good…” he tapers off into a frayed moan.
Your thighs, spread against the floorboards, heat like furnaces. Slick drools out from your pussy lips, twitching and aching, needing so badly for him to fill you. You whine an unintelligible curse into his skin, hand fumbling past the elastic band of your shorts. Your fingers nudge past your panties, finding your clit wet and wanting from your interrupted session earlier. Your fingers work a slippery circle onto your puffy clit. A moan bends out of your lips as they work and suckle at his hole.
Joel cranes his neck over his shoulder, dark, half-closed eyes tracing your pathetic figure. You’re shrunken down on the floor as you serve him, so zeroed in on his pleasure. Yours is an afterthought, but your hips still chase after your wandering, fleeting touches. “Can’t believe this gets you off. Touchin’ yourself…. Does my ass really get ya this worked up?” He groans, grasping the back of your head and holding you into his cheeks. As if you’d ever pull away. “Someone’s gotta–” he exhales. “gotta get you a fuckin’ vibrator. Gonna rub that sweet pussy raw.”
You whine at the thought, tongue traveling lower to give his taint some attention too. “Shit. Thereeeee ya go. Embarrassin’ kinda kink to have, y’know? Oughta get you an audience. Some folks from work… Tommy too, maybe. Bet you’d come twice as fast and twice as hard.”
You nod in agreement, swiping your tongue all along his hole. Fingers snapping along your clit, a moan is drawn out of you. Languid strokes steadily quicken into sweeping jabs that leave his hips stuttering against the air, cock dripping pearls of precum onto the floor. “Hngh,” you whine into him, putting your full neck, head, and tongue into your efforts. Joel rocks back against you, rolling his asshole along your exposed tongue. You whimper, reaching up for his cock again with your spare hand. This time, you meet no resistance. You wrap your hand around him properly, stroking him in time with the circles you draw along your clit.
A flurry of curses sling off of his tongue, sharp and stunned by your vigor to bring him to the edge. Your lips lock around his asshole, sucking him, getting him there. Your thumb brushes along his twitching tip as your tongue slides in and out of his clenching hole. “This what you been wantin’?” he taunts, gripping the back of your neck. You keen in response, the noise vibrating along his ass. “‘Course it is. Pretty slut like you… meant to be on her knees with ass in her face.” His other hand slips back too, one around your nape and the other at the back of your skull, urging you to lick deeper, faster, more.
You whisk your tongue hungrily along his pucker, whining into him. Your fingers tweak at your clit, hips grinding into your hand with each upward stroke of your tongue.
“Shit, kiddo. Gettin’ me close–” he rasps. Your hand slips down to squeeze at his balls, middle finger slipping along his shaft. You let out a high-pitched whimper as your hips roll down to meet your hand. “Fuck, I ain’t the only one. You really gonna come from this?” he hisses, digging his fingers harder into your skin. You let out a piercing, whetted moan. “Embarrassing. Thought it’d take mo–” He cuts himself off with a moan. “Goddammit, more. But I shoulda known you’d be easy. Came just from grindin’ on your inseam last time. Jus’ call you a slut and let you lick me clean and your panties are done for.”
Your eyes water with humiliated arousal. You drip all down your fingers, feeling wetness leak down between your legs. “Joel,” you moan into him through gasping breaths and slithery licks. Your clit twitches against the pads of your fingers. Your pelvis jerks. With each clench, your cunt salivates along your fingers, wanting. All you can taste, feel, hear, is him. His musk on your tongue, his skin under your hands and his cock between your fingers, his moans ringing in the air like a song.
Joel grinds down your face. You lick up between his cheeks, landing another sloppy kiss on his hole. With a determined thrust, you twirl your tongue inside of him at the same time your hand twists around his cock. You know he’s coming from his sounds alone, something you’d been deprived of from just watching him across the street. You never would’ve taken Joel Miller to be loud in bed, but you are glad you are wrong. His whines and grunts heave out into the emptiness of the living room. “Fuck, hngh — good slut. Yeah. That’s my girl. Good ‘lil ass kisser. Gonna cream those fuckin’ panties for me like those girls do in your videos, aren’t ya? ‘S alright, kiddo. Come for me. Go ‘head.”
Your tongue works him over diligently, fingers scuffing along your clit until it damn near chafes. His noises, the way he grinds, his words are enough to send you plummeting over that edge. You’re suspended on the precipice of your climax as you hover in time, but then the pestle of your fingers presses against your cunt. You’re done for, spiraling as juices leak out of you. Tiny, hitching moans hiccup out of you. You repeat his name like a mantra, “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel,” hand still wrapped around his softening cock. Your tongue hangs out, forehead pressed against his cheek. Panting in the comedown, in that warm-lit afterglow of release, you slump back onto your haunches. Your chest heaves, stomach unknotting from that peak of pleasure.
“Fuck,” you say articulately, looking up at him with glazed-over eyes.
“Fuck,” Joel says, in an entirely different tone. You follow his gaze to the back of the couch, splattered with pearly ropes of cum. Unable to stop yourself, you smother a giggle into the back of your hand. His panicked look only makes you giggle more before you burst into an entire laughing fit, clutching your gut as you wheeze at him.
Instead of fussing, Joel laughs too, shaking his head. “Goddamn, kid. You’re trouble.” He reaches down and squeezes your shoulder anyway. He bends down and tugs his shorts up, groaning as some of his bones snick from all of the bending. “Your dad keep any shock around?”
“Under the sink,” you say through your giggles, bracing yourself on your elbows. It takes until Joel comes back with an orange spray bottle and a rag that you manage to pull yourself up, dusting yourself off. You can still taste him on your tongue, a lingering musk that sits on your tongue. The bottle squeaks as it sprays foaming cleaner along the couch. You cross your arms and toe the ground, waiting for him to finish up.
“All that,” he says as he runs the rag under the faucet. “and we didn’t even plug my phone in.”
“Keep the charger,” you say. “I… think I have a spare. Somewhere. Besides. Won’t need to do another late-night viewing tonight.”
“Yeah,” Joel says with a content nod. “Guess you won’t.” He toes back on his Crocs that had come off somewhere in the fray. He runs a hand back through his hair. “Well, kiddo. Sleep well,” he says. “And get better taste in porn. You’re better than the cheap shit.”
You roll your eyes and wave him off. “Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Joel.”
“Night,” he says, voice a tad stilted as he slips out of the house to go back next door.
Your eyes chase him down the sidewalk into his front door, then follow his silhouette upstairs until his lamp flickers off. When you head to bed, it’s with an entirely different type of video playing in your head — one starring you.
I Will Not Ask and Neither Should You, dark!joel miller
synopsis, you should have hated him
stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, dark themes, joel is soft though towards reader, age gap not explicitly mentioned but joel is much older, post!outbreak, also not proofread but ill come back and fix mistakes trust papa on that
sorry theres no fuckin' in this one it was just something I needed to get out at 3 in the morning, but I will be writing more parts cause I actually love these two... and who is joel miller if not taking care of his baby girl
You had almost made it.
The tree line had been so close, the dark mouth of the forest waiting to swallow you, promising safety if you could just reach it. Your lungs burned, and your legs ached, but you pushed harder, feet slamming against the cold dirt as you ran.
Just a little further, and you were out.
You had spoken too soon– a force collided into you from behind.
You hit the dirt hard, your breath knocked from your lungs, panic flaring as you twisted, kicking, thrashing. But he was stronger, movements calculated with purpose. You barely managed to claw at his arm before he seized your wrists, pinning them above your head, his weight pressing you down.
“Easy.” He murmured, like he wasn’t holding you against the ground like he wasn’t the reason your people were dead. His grip tightened as you bucked beneath him, but his voice remained maddeningly calm, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya, sweetheart. No need to make it harder than it needs to be.”
You screamed, not for him, not for mercy– you knew better than that. You screamed for the ones you loved, for the pain that burned in your veins.
And he let you.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t tell you to shut the fuck up, didn’t strike you for your defiance. He simply let you break all with a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. Looking up at him, you had to guess he was around forty to fifty, with grey streaks in his hair matching the specs of salt that made up his beard. You faltered for a moment as he peered into your soul with big brown eyes– ones that might’ve come off as kind before the world had gone to shit.
The feeling of his arms around your wrists brought you back to the present, how he seemed anything but kind. You spat venom with your words, anything you could think of to make him let you go, but when your voice cracked, when the fight in your limbs began to falter, that was when he finally moved.
“Shhh.” he murmured, one large hand slipping behind your head. You hadn’t even realized you were crying until his thumb swiped over your cheek, smearing the tears away. “S’alright. You’re alright.”
His touch was gentle. Too gentle.
It made you hate him more.
“Fuck you.” you rasped, your voice raw from overexertion.
He huffed, something like amusement flickering across his face. “You got a mouth on you, huh?” Then, without warning, he hoisted you up, slinging you over his shoulder with terrifying ease.
You clawed at his back, beating your fists against him, kicking and thrashing against him wildly. He barely stumbled, continuing on. You tried your best to hurt him, though it wasn’t possible as he hurt you more than you could ever return.
You fisted the fabric of his green flannel, yanking and tugging, “Let me go.” You thrashed, desperate, but he only adjusted his grip, holding you tighter.
“Not gonna happen, Darlin.” he drawled, “You’re mine now.”
That was the last thing you heard before you succumbed to exhaustion.
When you woke up, your head was pounding, and the ache that wracked throughout your body wasn’t even close to subsiding. You sat up, trying to bring your fingers to your temples when you felt the resistance of something holding you in place. You attempted again, your hand only coming up to your chest, unable to reach any farther.
“Quit that.”
His voice was low and rough, causing you to cease movement altogether. You looked up from your spot, a beat-up mattress on a wooden floor. He sat on a chair, his cold gaze illuminated by the flames of a nearby fireplace. His expression was unreadable, eyes an eerie calm that sent a shiver down your spine. You yanked at your hand harder. His gaze never left you as the panic settled in. You struggled to focus your eyes in the dimly lit room when you discovered the source of your immobility– you were bound by a thick rope tied snugly on both wrists.
You pulled harder each time, feeling like your heart would beat out of your chest. Your breaths became short, the feeling of being trapped sending you into a frenzy. Your throat tightened, trying to find the voice to scream. His gaze softened as he sat up from his chair, the thud of his boots against the floorboards as he moved closer to you. You scooted away from him, still tugging at the restraints despite your attempts being futile.
He crowed down beside the mattress to look you in the eyes, “Stop that, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
You scoffed at the absurdity of his words. He had you tied down, took you by force– and somehow had the audacity to be concerned about you getting hurt?
“You, of all people, don’t get to tell me what to fucking do.” You spat, “Let me go.”
He shifted on the floor, taking a seat on the mattress with you, the cushioning sinking a bit with his weight. He reached over and closed the distance between you, his cool fingers grazing the rope that bound you to his mercy. His touch was soft—almost affectionate.
“They’ll come off soon enough.” He murmured, pulling his hand back softly, “Gotta earn it first.”
He stood up, grabbing the rifle that rested on the chair he previously sat in, leaving you in the dark save for the flames of the dimly lit fire.
You thrashed around until you fell to exhaustion.
You didn’t eat.
You refused to give him the satisfaction– to let him win.
He didn’t force you, never shoved the food down your throat or yelled at you. It was like clockwork every day; he set a plate in front of you on the floor, and he’d look at you once, letting the silence linger for a bit before he’d up and left.
As the days passed, hunger gnawed at you, leaving you with a noticeable burning in your stomach. You tried to ignore it, trying to focus on biting through the rope with your teeth– you’d told yourself that it was working until he had walked in one day spotting you gnawing viciously on the material. He laughed, Kevlar rope used in the military. I hate to break it t’ya sweetheart, but y’cant chew through it s’impossible.
The door creaked open, and you didn’t bother looking up. You knew it was him in the way the air seemed to shift, in the steady, unhurried sound of his boots against the floorboards. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to look at him.
He only sighed. He always did when he’d see your untouched plate, Y’hafta eat darlin’ gotta keep that belly full, but it’s okay, you’ll come around. It looked cold and unappetizing. The sound he let out wasn’t impatient, wasn’t angry. Just expectant. Like he had already known what he would find before stepping inside.
The scrape of heavy feet dragging across the floor caused you to glance over. He was crouched in front of you, knees bent, forearms resting on his thighs, plate in hand. A fresh one. Warm. The scent of venison filled the space between you.
"Y’gotta eat, baby." He was trying to coax you, "Know you’re stubborn, but you ain’t gonna win this one."
You turned your head, jaw clenching.
He exhaled through his nose, then dipped a fork into the food, gathering a bite of meat and potato. He held it up to hover near your lips, "C’mon." he said it so softly, despite the fact that everything about him was the complete opposite.
You swallowed hard, the grumble of your unfed stomach giving you away. You wanted to resist. You should resist. But the hunger had chipped away at you. You felt weak, and the food was right there and if you just leaned in, you could taste it.
He waited.
You slowly parted your lips, he let The moment the food touched your tongue, you caved. You wanted to spit it in his face to make him hate you and drop that gentle facade he was putting up, but before you could stop yourself, you chewed, swallowed, and let out a small, involuntary sigh.
"Atta girl."
Your breath hitched.
His voice was warm, laced with something close to pride. He scooped up another bite, lifting it to your lips, his eyes locked onto yours, "Good girl. See, s’not so hard to listen, is it?"
You hated the way your body reacted. The way the words settled into you, burrowing somewhere deep. You hated that you didn’t recoil, that you didn’t spit the food back out just to defy him. You opened your mouth again, and he fed you every piece of meat and potato on the plate down to the last drop of sauce.
"Think I can sleep beside y’now—without you tryin’ anythin."
You probably misheard him because of the way he said it, just like that. No warning, no hesitation. Like it was simple, like it was natural. Your body tensed up. He was already stripping off his jacket, moving around the cabin like it was a normal thing to do– just sleep beside his captive on a disgusting mattress on the floor in a cold, dingy cabin.
"No," you said immediately, your voice firm, "No– I don’t want—"
"Ain’t askin', baby."
And that was the end of it.
That night, you lay curled up on the farthest edge of the mattress, your back turned from him, it was impossible to relax despite being free of the ropes. He undid them for you saying it would be more comfortable to sleep though that didn’t fix the problem of the cold. You shivered, the warmth of the fire barely reaching you, but you refused to move– you’d freeze if you had to. You didn't want any part of yourself getting too close to him, and it was clear since you were almost halfway off the mattress, feet touching the floor.
But still, he didn’t touch you. Didn’t force you. But he was there, and that alone was enough to make your skin crawl.
You couldn’t sleep. How could you? That fucking monster was a mere inches away from you. Who knows what he’d do– maybe he was waiting for you to fall asleep. Though, deep down you knew he wouldn’t do anything. There wasn’t anything he could do right now that he couldn’t have done when you were tied to the mattress.
It went on like that for days. You noticed something strange– his breath never evened out when he was next to you. It stayed irregular. You could envision even when your back stayed turned away from him. Nights were spent with his presence looming beside you, heat radiating from his body, but never taking the step to reach it. You should’ve been relieved that he didn’t force the closeness and allowed you both to stay on your respective sides.
But the longer it went on, the more you felt the space between you two.
You hated the way your body became aware of it. How, after enough nights, it wasn’t the proximity that made your stomach twist but the space.
Then, one night, the cold crept in more than usual. The fireplace burned lowly, barely a flicker of warmth against the incessant chill. The blankets were thin, your clothes weren’t enough, and no matter how tightly you curled into yourself, the shivers wouldn’t stop.
Before you knew it and before you could stop yourself, you moved. It was slow and uncertain—shifting your weight– creeping your back toward the solid warmth behind you. You felt the moment he noticed. The way his breath deepened slightly, the way the mattress dipped as he tensed. He didn’t speak or move.
But he waited.
Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you lingered there, just on the edge of his heat, close enough that you could feel it trying to pull you in. You stayed in that position for a minute– waiting for something, anything, yet you didn’t know what. You squeezed your eyes shut at the absurdity of it all, shame burning bright in your stomach. You hated this. Hated what it meant. Hated that you wanted—needed.
The second you dared to move a fraction of an inch closer, your body brushed against his. That was enough for him as his arm slid around you in an instant, pulling you back against him like it was something he had been waiting for. He had known, even before you did, that this was inevitable.
His warmth enveloped you, soothing you from everything he had inflicted on you. It was funny. The same man who put you in this position was the one you were reaching for. Felt safe with.
You should have fought it. You should have shoved him away and reminded him that you didn’t want this and that you hated him for what he did. But you didn’t. Instead, you breathed in, slow and deep, your body molding against his. He was warm. He was steady. And after so many nights of forcing yourself to stay still and reject any touch.
This felt better. It felt safer.
And the next night, when the cold settled in again, you waited. Then, when his arm came around you, pulling you in without hesitation, you let him.
The fireplace had calmed down, burning lowly, the embers dancing, casting a glow along the wooden walls you’d been confined to for however long. You lay beside him, your body still turned away, but you weren’t as tense as you had been before. But there was something scary about the way he was with you now, in these moments when the world outside didn’t exist. It should’ve scared you, yet it didn't.
You felt him shift slightly beside you, and then, after a long pause, his voice came through the quiet.
"Y’know," he murmured, his tone soft like it always was when it came to you, "Just realized... I never told you m’name."
You turned slightly, just enough to glance at him over your shoulder, brows furrowing. Of all the things you expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them mostly because you had never asked. He had never offered. He had been him—the man who took you, the man who stole your life and molded it into something terrifying. He had been a force, an inevitability. A monster.
But now, here he was, offering something strangely human.
You swallowed hard, unsure if you wanted to hear it, unsure if knowing his name would make any of this worse. But he just looked at you, and there was something almost vulnerable in his expression, something that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
"S’Joel."
The way he said it like it wasn’t just a name. It was a piece of himself, something he was handing to you willingly, without expectation.
Joel.
It settled into your bones, and you told yourself you should have ignored it. Should have pretended it didn’t mean anything, dismissed it like he hadn’t even said it.
But instead, before you could stop yourself, you whispered, "Joel."
His eyes softened as he murmured something so quiet you could’ve missed it.
"That’s it, baby girl."
For some reason, you found yourself slowly rolling over, facing him for the first time. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his—no longer the cold, unfeeling gaze of the monster you had once feared. Instead, they were softer now, warm and searching, round and brown, almost expectant like a puppy. You had spent so long refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge anything beyond what he had done. But now, in the stillness of the cabin, with the world outside drowned out, it was only him.
Your hands, bound by need instead of rope, reached for him, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt, pulling yourself closer. Your body pressed into his, and without thinking, without meaning to—without wanting to understand why—you clung to him.
You felt him stiffen, his breath hitching like you had done something unbelievable, something he hadn't expected. For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, carefully, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in like he had been waiting for this. Like it was second nature to him. His chin brushed the top of your head, his hold grounding you.
A deep exhale left him, his voice sure as his hand ran soothingly along your back, "I got you, baby girl," he murmured, his lips grazing your hair, the words sinking into your skin like a promise. "Ain’t gotta be scared o’me. I’m right here—always gonna be right here."
And for the first time, you didn’t fight it. Didn’t push him away.
Joel found you on a quiet evening when the chapel was empty, save for the flickering candlelight and the faint scent of incense clinging to the air. You were curled up on one of the wooden pews, arms folded beneath your head, chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep.
He cleared his throat, but you didn’t stir. He hesitated before reaching out, tapping your shoulder. “Miss?” His voice came softer than he expected. “You can’t sleep here.”
"Father, do you always wake up strangers like this?"
Your voice was thick with sleep, eyes blinking against the dim glow of the chapel’s candlelight. The air smelled of old wood, wax, and something faintly metallic, like rain on stone. You looked young like this, your face soft, but Joel knew better. You shouldn't be older than thirty.
"You can’t sleep here," he repeated.
Joel stood over you, stiff-backed, his fingers still hovering near your shoulder from where he’d tapped you awake. He shouldn’t have noticed the way your legs stretched across the pew, the way your blouse—too sheer for a place like this, shifted as you moved, leaving no place to imagination.
"Didn’t know God locked His doors at night," you mused, rubbing at your eyes.
Joel exhaled sharply. Lord, give me patience.
"This isn’t a shelter," he said. "If you need a place—"
"I'm not homeless" Your tone was firm, final. But there was something else in your voice too, something he couldn’t quite place, but it hinted sadness.
The world outside was changing. Women weren’t quiet anymore. They weren’t soft in the way people in towns like this expected them to be. And yet, there was something about you that didn’t fit the mold of rebellion either. You weren’t a girl searching for trouble. You were a woman who had already met it.
"I just got into town," you admitted after a beat, glancing toward the stained-glass windows, dark now with the night. "Didn’t know where else to go."
Joel studied you, his chest tightening. "Are you in trouble?"
A small, humorless laugh left you. "Depends on what you call trouble."
Silence filled the chapel, thick and unmoving. The rain had stopped, leaving only the distant hum of the highway beyond the hills.
"You shouldn’t be here," he said finally. But his voice had lost its authority, had softened just enough that he felt the weight of it settle in his own bones.
Because the longer he stood there, the clearer it became.
You weren’t just a woman passing through.
You were trouble to his faith.
And trouble, he knew, never left quietly.
And worse, he couldn’t ignore the way, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure if devotion could save him.
warnings: age gap, religious conflict, crisis of faith, temptation, forbidden attraction, forbidden romance, eventual smut social expectations, night life themes, contrast between joel's and your world.
the story is set during the 70s.
masterlist in progress...
coming soon...
please, tell me if you want to be added to the taglist 💌
fantastic 4 trailer coming out w pedro as reed richard’s writing on the chalkboard in a button down with that grey in his hair. I already know some fire ass professor fics comin out and i’m sat.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ daddy kink, p in v, riding, dirty talk, soft joel, hurt & comfort if you squint, praise kink, use of pet names ( baby girl, sweet girl, etc )
it's past christmas but I had this idea and fell in love with it and procrastination will be the death of me...
The night seemed to drag on forever.
It was almost 12:35, and Joel hadn’t come home yet— a broken promise that he had whispered in the morning, with a kiss to the tip of your nose, crossing his heart that he’d be back in time to hold you once more and open presents.
Supplies were running low in Jackson, including penicillin and other medications that would be useful for a rainy day. Selfishness claws at the edges of your thoughts each time he has to go, a relentless whisper that begs him to stay—to choose the warmth of home and the safety of you over the unknown out there. It gnaws at your resolve, urging you to tell him to forget about the world, to let it fend for itself, and to stay here where it’s quiet, where it’s just the two of you.
Instead, you put your heart’s desires to rest, giving him a meek nod as you kissed the lips, which you came to know as your own goodbye. It wasn’t fair. However, nothing was ever fair when it came to your Joel.
At his core, your Joel was a giver— the kind of man who would give until his knees buckled from beneath him, and even then you were sure he’d pour what little remained of himself into the world. He bled for you, his devotion etched in every sacrifice he made, and though he’d never admit it, he bled for Jackson too, an unspoken loyalty for the town he called your home.
So if Jackson needed something, Tommy and him were always the first ones to act.
And all you could do was wait.
But the worst part wasn’t waiting. It wasn’t the fear of hypotheticals or counting every star in the sky and praying on each one that he’d be alright. It was the knowing. Knowing that one day your Joel might not find his way back into the safety of your embrace. That one day, the fucked up world around you might win. And it was as obvious to you as it was to those around you— you wouldn’t be able to endure that. The possibility of leading a life without him because to you, he is the world.
Joel is the sun and moon, and the stars are him.
You shift subconsciously on the bed, hands gripping the white sheets, a desperate attempt to ground yourself from this nightmare. You wanted to wake up. You wanted to wake up in his arms, the feeling of his breath fanning against your neck— a tangible reminder that he was yours. You longed to trace the outline of his nose with your eyes like you always did when he was fast asleep next to you— not wanting to surrender to sleep because that would mean another moment spent without him.
And yet, somehow, even in sleep, you still dreamt of him. Always him.
Then, amid the deafening silence that accompanied the dark, the door creaked open slowly. You blinked in an attempt to focus on the figure that lingered in the doorway. It stepped through, gently shutting the door behind, and you saw him— Joel, Your Joel.
The exhaustion on his face doesn’t go unnoticed; bright eyes now sunken, and the pink plush lips you had kissed in the morning were red and irritated, no doubt from the harsh weather. Eyes bloodshot from fighting sleep.
“Joel…” You could finally breathe, rushing to your feet. You leaped out of bed and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pressing your face against his jacket's material, you felt his heart's rhythmic beat. He was here. He was safe.
“M’okay.” He soothed, lips brushing the top of your head as his arms came around you, “M’here, baby. M’here.”
You guide him to sit at the edge of your bed, standing between his legs as they rest on either side of you. He reaches out slowly, arms wrapping around you to pull you into his lap by habit. Once you’re there, you get a closer look at his face with the help of a nearby lamp. Small cuts adorn his face, and a prominent one that you notice lies on the bridge of his nose.
Tommy and him weren’t the only ones searching for supplies.
You cup his face gently, fingers ghosting the gray whiskers of his beard. He leans into your touch, eyes closed, completely melting at the contact. He shudders at the feeling of your lips pressing against every knick that taints his skin. Whoever did this to your Joel, you wish the weight of their cruelty returned tenfold—a life heavy with regret and haunted by shadows, never to know the peace they carelessly stole from him.
“C’mon, baby girl, let's get you to bed.” He rests his forehead against yours, fingers caressing your sides with a feather-light touch, “S’real late.”
Ever the giver. Even in the quietest moments, he pours what’s left of himself into you.
You shake your head gently, fingers coming up to undo the buttons of his winter coat. Once the constricting material is off, his shaky hands work on his favorite green flannel. He curses under his breath as his hands tremble. They feel numb and stiff from the biting cold, refusing to obey his commands. Frustration flickers across his face as he struggles with the flannel buttons, his breath coming in shallow puffs of irritation.
"I can't... damn it," he mutters, the words edged with a helpless kind of anger—his fingers fumble, clumsy and uncooperative.
Placing your hands over his, you offer him a sympathetic smile and take over, undoing each button for him. He shrugs off the flannel, leaving the sight of his broad chest in front of you, revealing another scar, though this one is more familiar. It lay above his lower stomach, and you’d seen in passing within these same four walls when the man in front of you whispered filthy things into your ear, the weight of his naked body against yours, holding your hand as he fucked you into the mattress he was now sitting on.
Still, on his lap, you moved to work on Joel’s pants, using your hands to rub at the top of his inner thigh gently. His grip on your sides tightened slightly as he let out a strained breath, peering at you through hooded eyes. Now, standing between his legs, you peel off his jeans and boxers, throwing them to the side of the bed to deal with another day.
Joel’s hand comes to toy with the thin strap of your nightie; his fingers dig under the silk, slowly dragging both straps down your arms to reveal your naked body to him. His eyes dance along your chest, admiring the swell of your breast and the sight of your nipples that harden from the chilly air in the room. He pulls you into him, kissing the valley of your breast to the exposed skin of your neck. You giggle softly at the familiar beard scruff tickling your soft skin.
Your hand drifts between your bodies, finding his aching cock. Wrapping your hand around his girth, he twitches in your hand with a low moan. You knew what he needed– Relief. And you’d be more than willing to provide that for him.
“Take those off f’me, baby.” He removes his hands, letting his eyes drift to your panties, the only thing shielding all of you from him. You hooked your fingers around the soft cotton material, yanking them down so they could pool at your legs. You stepped out of your panties and closer to Joel, watching his hefty hand stroke up and down his cock, watching you unravel yourself for him and him only.
“Wanna take care of you daddy.” Your hands find his shoulders, rubbing them to soothe the ache he felt from the day. Joel did so much for you. He kept you safe and full in many ways without expecting anything in return. You’d never lift a finger as long as he was around, and that was apparent from the first time he took you to bed and made you cum two times with his fingers and once with his mouth. Sometimes, you wanted him to be selfish because he deserved it more than anyone.
“You’re so sweet, baby girl.” He smiles up at you, still pumping his cock. Your eyes fall to his length and the bush of wiry hairs above it, “Gonna ride daddy’s cock n take care of him real good? Make him feel better?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Spit on daddy’s cock, baby.”
You lean down to his length, eyes meeting his as he gives you a nod of approval. You gather the salvia in your mouth, letting it fall from your lips to his length. Joel’s eyes darkened, watching your spit drip down the head of his cock onto his shaft.
“One more time.”
You spit once more, and Joel removes his hand completely, arms reaching out for you. You step towards him, letting his hands find their way onto your hips. He pulls you into his lap once more, positioning you to his liking– both of your knees on either side of him as your wet entrance hovers over his cock. Your nails dig into his shoulders when you feel the hot tip of him rub against the wetness of your core.
“Fuck, baby.” He groans, eyes closed. His hands hold you firmly in place. “She’s dripping onto me– filthy girl gonna ruin these sheets.”
You whined, trying to move yourself onto him, but Joel was stronger, able to manipulate you however he wanted. You let out a sigh, just wanting anything he would give to dull the ache between your thighs.
Joel tsked, “Be patient baby, m’gonna make you feel better.” He moves you forward just enough so his tip catches at the notch of your cunt, “Daddy spoils you so much that you're always used to getting your way, hm?”
You gasped, burying your face into the crook of his neck at the feeling of his cock against your clit, “No, Daddy, m’your good girl, promise!”
Joel’s hand gently cupped your face, his fingers softly caressing your skin as if to reassure you that he was just teasing. He knew you were spoiled objectively but loved being the one to indulge you. More than that, he loved how much you needed him. It gave him a sense of purpose, something he would never tell you himself. He thrived on being the one you turned to, the one you trusted to take care of you. Knowing that you relied on him, that you needed him in ways no one else could. It wasn’t just indulgence; it was connection, it was love, and it was everything he never knew he craved.
With his other hand, Joel moved you back to your original position hovering above him as he guided you to sink onto his cock. Joel’s hand was steady on your head, forcing your gaze to meet his own, already pushing you further down on himself. You moaned at the slight ache fading into pleasure from his size, splitting you open.
“You’re doing so good, baby, y’almost there.” Joel sighed, eyes glancing down to where your bodies met. He was painfully hard from the sight of him completely stuffing you full, “Gonna give you some more.”
“Daddy.” You whined, body slumping forward in Joel’s grip as he pushed you down so you could take all that he was giving you. He was thick and hot inside of you, his member pulsing at the feeling of being where he’d longed to be– and almost always ended up every night.
“I know, baby girl, I know.” He soothed, kissing your cheek. He let you move against him a bit, letting you feel how deep he was inside you. Your gaze cast downwards to see where you disappeared inside of him, his cock buried snugly in your warmth.
Joel’s hands guided you up and down, setting the rhythm for you to mimic. You held a death grip on his shoulders, rolling your hips on top of him, a little cautious, not wanting to disappoint him. Joel noticed your apprehension and offered you an encouraging smile, his warm and steady gaze melting away your nerves. He knew how much you wanted to be his good girl, but to him, there was nothing you could ever do that would disappoint. Even if you faltered, even if you stumbled, in his eyes, you could never truly fall short.
“Fuck, look at you. Got the prettiest thing in all of Jackson bouncin’ on my lap.” He praised you with a moan, throwing his head back and focusing on how well your body always took him, “Doing such a good job for daddy.”
You watched Joel’s eyes rake all over your naked form, moaning when you’d sink back down onto his cock. His hands had reclaimed their place at your sides, moving you against him at a faster pace. One of your hands came to rest on the side of his face as you asked breathily, “Like this?”
You rode him at the pace he wanted, pulling his forehead to rest against your own, wanting to feel him as close as possible, though it probably wasn’t possible. Close would never be enough for you. You’d always want more when it came to Joel. The dark hairs at the base of his cock brushed against your clit whenever you sank onto him, spurring you on further.
“So fuckin’ sweet to me.” He nodded, confirming your earlier question, one hand gripping at your breasts as he licked at the nipple of the other. His tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves making your back arch in pleasure. He loved how you wanted to please him. You really were his good girl. He pulled his mouth off with a pop, “S’just what you needed huh? My perfect girl’s little pussy was just beggin’ t’be full o’me?”
You wanted to respond, but the feeling of him engulfing you made it impossible. Your face contorted the feeling of euphoria rushing over you when you felt Joel’s hips move upward on their own accord, meeting your movements to fuck you even harder.
Joel.
Joel.
Joel.
It was like a mantra in your head. It was all too much.
‘Daddy, I– I think m’ gonna-” You whined into the crook of his neck. Joel knew your body well enough that he didn’t need you to tell him when you were close; he always felt it. He felt your hot tears drip onto his chest, bringing his hand up to tangle into your hair as he kept up his powerful thrusts into you.
“Cum for me baby girl, s’okay you can do it.” He breathed out, his hand stroking your scalp, “I’ll take care of you. Let go f’me.”
So you did. You came hard, trying to muffle your cries by covering your mouth with Joel’s shoulder, which was damp from your tears. Your walls gripped Joel’s cock, throbbing as you came undone on top of him, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat. With what little energy he had left, both of his hands came to grip the undersides of your thighs as he fucked into you.
His hips stuttered, a sign to you that he was going to come as well. Your walls squeezing him allowed that final push he needed as he emptied himself into you.
You were both left wrecked. Heavy breathing against sweaty skin pressed against each other. Joel’s arms enveloped you, gently rubbing your back as you tried to catch your breath, “Stay inside, please?”
“Okay, baby,” he chuckled, burying his nose in your hair and taking a deep breath. Your head rested on his shoulder as he held you close, keeping you pressed firmly against him. “Do you still want to open presents?”
This is so Joel-coded, I can’t even function. 😭💔And the smut?? PERFECTION. 🔥 It’s the patience he has, the praise, the way he’s still taking care of her even when he’s literally half-dead from exhaustion. Joel is the sun and moon, and the stars are him—yeah, that line is gonna haunt me in the best way.
Also, the emotional weight of her fears and the comfort of him always coming back? BRB, crying forever. 🥹
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ daddy kink, p in v, riding, dirty talk, soft joel, hurt & comfort if you squint, praise kink, use of pet names ( baby girl, sweet girl, etc )
it's past christmas but I had this idea and fell in love with it and procrastination will be the death of me...
The night seemed to drag on forever.
It was almost 12:35, and Joel hadn’t come home yet— a broken promise that he had whispered in the morning, with a kiss to the tip of your nose, crossing his heart that he’d be back in time to hold you once more and open presents.
Supplies were running low in Jackson, including penicillin and other medications that would be useful for a rainy day. Selfishness claws at the edges of your thoughts each time he has to go, a relentless whisper that begs him to stay—to choose the warmth of home and the safety of you over the unknown out there. It gnaws at your resolve, urging you to tell him to forget about the world, to let it fend for itself, and to stay here where it’s quiet, where it’s just the two of you.
Instead, you put your heart’s desires to rest, giving him a meek nod as you kissed the lips, which you came to know as your own goodbye. It wasn’t fair. However, nothing was ever fair when it came to your Joel.
At his core, your Joel was a giver— the kind of man who would give until his knees buckled from beneath him, and even then you were sure he’d pour what little remained of himself into the world. He bled for you, his devotion etched in every sacrifice he made, and though he’d never admit it, he bled for Jackson too, an unspoken loyalty for the town he called your home.
So if Jackson needed something, Tommy and him were always the first ones to act.
And all you could do was wait.
But the worst part wasn’t waiting. It wasn’t the fear of hypotheticals or counting every star in the sky and praying on each one that he’d be alright. It was the knowing. Knowing that one day your Joel might not find his way back into the safety of your embrace. That one day, the fucked up world around you might win. And it was as obvious to you as it was to those around you— you wouldn’t be able to endure that. The possibility of leading a life without him because to you, he is the world.
Joel is the sun and moon, and the stars are him.
You shift subconsciously on the bed, hands gripping the white sheets, a desperate attempt to ground yourself from this nightmare. You wanted to wake up. You wanted to wake up in his arms, the feeling of his breath fanning against your neck— a tangible reminder that he was yours. You longed to trace the outline of his nose with your eyes like you always did when he was fast asleep next to you— not wanting to surrender to sleep because that would mean another moment spent without him.
And yet, somehow, even in sleep, you still dreamt of him. Always him.
Then, amid the deafening silence that accompanied the dark, the door creaked open slowly. You blinked in an attempt to focus on the figure that lingered in the doorway. It stepped through, gently shutting the door behind, and you saw him— Joel, Your Joel.
The exhaustion on his face doesn’t go unnoticed; bright eyes now sunken, and the pink plush lips you had kissed in the morning were red and irritated, no doubt from the harsh weather. Eyes bloodshot from fighting sleep.
“Joel…” You could finally breathe, rushing to your feet. You leaped out of bed and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pressing your face against his jacket's material, you felt his heart's rhythmic beat. He was here. He was safe.
“M’okay.” He soothed, lips brushing the top of your head as his arms came around you, “M’here, baby. M’here.”
You guide him to sit at the edge of your bed, standing between his legs as they rest on either side of you. He reaches out slowly, arms wrapping around you to pull you into his lap by habit. Once you’re there, you get a closer look at his face with the help of a nearby lamp. Small cuts adorn his face, and a prominent one that you notice lies on the bridge of his nose.
Tommy and him weren’t the only ones searching for supplies.
You cup his face gently, fingers ghosting the gray whiskers of his beard. He leans into your touch, eyes closed, completely melting at the contact. He shudders at the feeling of your lips pressing against every knick that taints his skin. Whoever did this to your Joel, you wish the weight of their cruelty returned tenfold—a life heavy with regret and haunted by shadows, never to know the peace they carelessly stole from him.
“C’mon, baby girl, let's get you to bed.” He rests his forehead against yours, fingers caressing your sides with a feather-light touch, “S’real late.”
Ever the giver. Even in the quietest moments, he pours what’s left of himself into you.
You shake your head gently, fingers coming up to undo the buttons of his winter coat. Once the constricting material is off, his shaky hands work on his favorite green flannel. He curses under his breath as his hands tremble. They feel numb and stiff from the biting cold, refusing to obey his commands. Frustration flickers across his face as he struggles with the flannel buttons, his breath coming in shallow puffs of irritation.
"I can't... damn it," he mutters, the words edged with a helpless kind of anger—his fingers fumble, clumsy and uncooperative.
Placing your hands over his, you offer him a sympathetic smile and take over, undoing each button for him. He shrugs off the flannel, leaving the sight of his broad chest in front of you, revealing another scar, though this one is more familiar. It lay above his lower stomach, and you’d seen in passing within these same four walls when the man in front of you whispered filthy things into your ear, the weight of his naked body against yours, holding your hand as he fucked you into the mattress he was now sitting on.
Still, on his lap, you moved to work on Joel’s pants, using your hands to rub at the top of his inner thigh gently. His grip on your sides tightened slightly as he let out a strained breath, peering at you through hooded eyes. Now, standing between his legs, you peel off his jeans and boxers, throwing them to the side of the bed to deal with another day.
Joel’s hand comes to toy with the thin strap of your nightie; his fingers dig under the silk, slowly dragging both straps down your arms to reveal your naked body to him. His eyes dance along your chest, admiring the swell of your breast and the sight of your nipples that harden from the chilly air in the room. He pulls you into him, kissing the valley of your breast to the exposed skin of your neck. You giggle softly at the familiar beard scruff tickling your soft skin.
Your hand drifts between your bodies, finding his aching cock. Wrapping your hand around his girth, he twitches in your hand with a low moan. You knew what he needed– Relief. And you’d be more than willing to provide that for him.
“Take those off f’me, baby.” He removes his hands, letting his eyes drift to your panties, the only thing shielding all of you from him. You hooked your fingers around the soft cotton material, yanking them down so they could pool at your legs. You stepped out of your panties and closer to Joel, watching his hefty hand stroke up and down his cock, watching you unravel yourself for him and him only.
“Wanna take care of you daddy.” Your hands find his shoulders, rubbing them to soothe the ache he felt from the day. Joel did so much for you. He kept you safe and full in many ways without expecting anything in return. You’d never lift a finger as long as he was around, and that was apparent from the first time he took you to bed and made you cum two times with his fingers and once with his mouth. Sometimes, you wanted him to be selfish because he deserved it more than anyone.
“You’re so sweet, baby girl.” He smiles up at you, still pumping his cock. Your eyes fall to his length and the bush of wiry hairs above it, “Gonna ride daddy’s cock n take care of him real good? Make him feel better?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Spit on daddy’s cock, baby.”
You lean down to his length, eyes meeting his as he gives you a nod of approval. You gather the salvia in your mouth, letting it fall from your lips to his length. Joel’s eyes darkened, watching your spit drip down the head of his cock onto his shaft.
“One more time.”
You spit once more, and Joel removes his hand completely, arms reaching out for you. You step towards him, letting his hands find their way onto your hips. He pulls you into his lap once more, positioning you to his liking– both of your knees on either side of him as your wet entrance hovers over his cock. Your nails dig into his shoulders when you feel the hot tip of him rub against the wetness of your core.
“Fuck, baby.” He groans, eyes closed. His hands hold you firmly in place. “She’s dripping onto me– filthy girl gonna ruin these sheets.”
You whined, trying to move yourself onto him, but Joel was stronger, able to manipulate you however he wanted. You let out a sigh, just wanting anything he would give to dull the ache between your thighs.
Joel tsked, “Be patient baby, m’gonna make you feel better.” He moves you forward just enough so his tip catches at the notch of your cunt, “Daddy spoils you so much that you're always used to getting your way, hm?”
You gasped, burying your face into the crook of his neck at the feeling of his cock against your clit, “No, Daddy, m’your good girl, promise!”
Joel’s hand gently cupped your face, his fingers softly caressing your skin as if to reassure you that he was just teasing. He knew you were spoiled objectively but loved being the one to indulge you. More than that, he loved how much you needed him. It gave him a sense of purpose, something he would never tell you himself. He thrived on being the one you turned to, the one you trusted to take care of you. Knowing that you relied on him, that you needed him in ways no one else could. It wasn’t just indulgence; it was connection, it was love, and it was everything he never knew he craved.
With his other hand, Joel moved you back to your original position hovering above him as he guided you to sink onto his cock. Joel’s hand was steady on your head, forcing your gaze to meet his own, already pushing you further down on himself. You moaned at the slight ache fading into pleasure from his size, splitting you open.
“You’re doing so good, baby, y’almost there.” Joel sighed, eyes glancing down to where your bodies met. He was painfully hard from the sight of him completely stuffing you full, “Gonna give you some more.”
“Daddy.” You whined, body slumping forward in Joel’s grip as he pushed you down so you could take all that he was giving you. He was thick and hot inside of you, his member pulsing at the feeling of being where he’d longed to be– and almost always ended up every night.
“I know, baby girl, I know.” He soothed, kissing your cheek. He let you move against him a bit, letting you feel how deep he was inside you. Your gaze cast downwards to see where you disappeared inside of him, his cock buried snugly in your warmth.
Joel’s hands guided you up and down, setting the rhythm for you to mimic. You held a death grip on his shoulders, rolling your hips on top of him, a little cautious, not wanting to disappoint him. Joel noticed your apprehension and offered you an encouraging smile, his warm and steady gaze melting away your nerves. He knew how much you wanted to be his good girl, but to him, there was nothing you could ever do that would disappoint. Even if you faltered, even if you stumbled, in his eyes, you could never truly fall short.
“Fuck, look at you. Got the prettiest thing in all of Jackson bouncin’ on my lap.” He praised you with a moan, throwing his head back and focusing on how well your body always took him, “Doing such a good job for daddy.”
You watched Joel’s eyes rake all over your naked form, moaning when you’d sink back down onto his cock. His hands had reclaimed their place at your sides, moving you against him at a faster pace. One of your hands came to rest on the side of his face as you asked breathily, “Like this?”
You rode him at the pace he wanted, pulling his forehead to rest against your own, wanting to feel him as close as possible, though it probably wasn’t possible. Close would never be enough for you. You’d always want more when it came to Joel. The dark hairs at the base of his cock brushed against your clit whenever you sank onto him, spurring you on further.
“So fuckin’ sweet to me.” He nodded, confirming your earlier question, one hand gripping at your breasts as he licked at the nipple of the other. His tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves making your back arch in pleasure. He loved how you wanted to please him. You really were his good girl. He pulled his mouth off with a pop, “S’just what you needed huh? My perfect girl’s little pussy was just beggin’ t’be full o’me?”
You wanted to respond, but the feeling of him engulfing you made it impossible. Your face contorted the feeling of euphoria rushing over you when you felt Joel’s hips move upward on their own accord, meeting your movements to fuck you even harder.
Joel.
Joel.
Joel.
It was like a mantra in your head. It was all too much.
‘Daddy, I– I think m’ gonna-” You whined into the crook of his neck. Joel knew your body well enough that he didn’t need you to tell him when you were close; he always felt it. He felt your hot tears drip onto his chest, bringing his hand up to tangle into your hair as he kept up his powerful thrusts into you.
“Cum for me baby girl, s’okay you can do it.” He breathed out, his hand stroking your scalp, “I’ll take care of you. Let go f’me.”
So you did. You came hard, trying to muffle your cries by covering your mouth with Joel’s shoulder, which was damp from your tears. Your walls gripped Joel’s cock, throbbing as you came undone on top of him, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat. With what little energy he had left, both of his hands came to grip the undersides of your thighs as he fucked into you.
His hips stuttered, a sign to you that he was going to come as well. Your walls squeezing him allowed that final push he needed as he emptied himself into you.
You were both left wrecked. Heavy breathing against sweaty skin pressed against each other. Joel’s arms enveloped you, gently rubbing your back as you tried to catch your breath, “Stay inside, please?”
“Okay, baby,” he chuckled, burying his nose in your hair and taking a deep breath. Your head rested on his shoulder as he held you close, keeping you pressed firmly against him. “Do you still want to open presents?”
Oh my GOD I loved everything about this. I can't even like.. do my little quoting thingy because I'd just be quoting the whole fic 😭 all of this was perfection wow
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ daddy kink, p in v, riding, dirty talk, soft joel, hurt & comfort if you squint, praise kink, use of pet names ( baby girl, sweet girl, etc )
it's past christmas but I had this idea and fell in love with it and procrastination will be the death of me...
The night seemed to drag on forever.
It was almost 12:35, and Joel hadn’t come home yet— a broken promise that he had whispered in the morning, with a kiss to the tip of your nose, crossing his heart that he’d be back in time to hold you once more and open presents.
Supplies were running low in Jackson, including penicillin and other medications that would be useful for a rainy day. Selfishness claws at the edges of your thoughts each time he has to go, a relentless whisper that begs him to stay—to choose the warmth of home and the safety of you over the unknown out there. It gnaws at your resolve, urging you to tell him to forget about the world, to let it fend for itself, and to stay here where it’s quiet, where it’s just the two of you.
Instead, you put your heart’s desires to rest, giving him a meek nod as you kissed the lips, which you came to know as your own goodbye. It wasn’t fair. However, nothing was ever fair when it came to your Joel.
At his core, your Joel was a giver— the kind of man who would give until his knees buckled from beneath him, and even then you were sure he’d pour what little remained of himself into the world. He bled for you, his devotion etched in every sacrifice he made, and though he’d never admit it, he bled for Jackson too, an unspoken loyalty for the town he called your home.
So if Jackson needed something, Tommy and him were always the first ones to act.
And all you could do was wait.
But the worst part wasn’t waiting. It wasn’t the fear of hypotheticals or counting every star in the sky and praying on each one that he’d be alright. It was the knowing. Knowing that one day your Joel might not find his way back into the safety of your embrace. That one day, the fucked up world around you might win. And it was as obvious to you as it was to those around you— you wouldn’t be able to endure that. The possibility of leading a life without him because to you, he is the world.
Joel is the sun and moon, and the stars are him.
You shift subconsciously on the bed, hands gripping the white sheets, a desperate attempt to ground yourself from this nightmare. You wanted to wake up. You wanted to wake up in his arms, the feeling of his breath fanning against your neck— a tangible reminder that he was yours. You longed to trace the outline of his nose with your eyes like you always did when he was fast asleep next to you— not wanting to surrender to sleep because that would mean another moment spent without him.
And yet, somehow, even in sleep, you still dreamt of him. Always him.
Then, amid the deafening silence that accompanied the dark, the door creaked open slowly. You blinked in an attempt to focus on the figure that lingered in the doorway. It stepped through, gently shutting the door behind, and you saw him— Joel, Your Joel.
The exhaustion on his face doesn’t go unnoticed; bright eyes now sunken, and the pink plush lips you had kissed in the morning were red and irritated, no doubt from the harsh weather. Eyes bloodshot from fighting sleep.
“Joel…” You could finally breathe, rushing to your feet. You leaped out of bed and wrapped your arms around his neck. Pressing your face against his jacket's material, you felt his heart's rhythmic beat. He was here. He was safe.
“M’okay.” He soothed, lips brushing the top of your head as his arms came around you, “M’here, baby. M’here.”
You guide him to sit at the edge of your bed, standing between his legs as they rest on either side of you. He reaches out slowly, arms wrapping around you to pull you into his lap by habit. Once you’re there, you get a closer look at his face with the help of a nearby lamp. Small cuts adorn his face, and a prominent one that you notice lies on the bridge of his nose.
Tommy and him weren’t the only ones searching for supplies.
You cup his face gently, fingers ghosting the gray whiskers of his beard. He leans into your touch, eyes closed, completely melting at the contact. He shudders at the feeling of your lips pressing against every knick that taints his skin. Whoever did this to your Joel, you wish the weight of their cruelty returned tenfold—a life heavy with regret and haunted by shadows, never to know the peace they carelessly stole from him.
“C’mon, baby girl, let's get you to bed.” He rests his forehead against yours, fingers caressing your sides with a feather-light touch, “S’real late.”
Ever the giver. Even in the quietest moments, he pours what’s left of himself into you.
You shake your head gently, fingers coming up to undo the buttons of his winter coat. Once the constricting material is off, his shaky hands work on his favorite green flannel. He curses under his breath as his hands tremble. They feel numb and stiff from the biting cold, refusing to obey his commands. Frustration flickers across his face as he struggles with the flannel buttons, his breath coming in shallow puffs of irritation.
"I can't... damn it," he mutters, the words edged with a helpless kind of anger—his fingers fumble, clumsy and uncooperative.
Placing your hands over his, you offer him a sympathetic smile and take over, undoing each button for him. He shrugs off the flannel, leaving the sight of his broad chest in front of you, revealing another scar, though this one is more familiar. It lay above his lower stomach, and you’d seen in passing within these same four walls when the man in front of you whispered filthy things into your ear, the weight of his naked body against yours, holding your hand as he fucked you into the mattress he was now sitting on.
Still, on his lap, you moved to work on Joel’s pants, using your hands to rub at the top of his inner thigh gently. His grip on your sides tightened slightly as he let out a strained breath, peering at you through hooded eyes. Now, standing between his legs, you peel off his jeans and boxers, throwing them to the side of the bed to deal with another day.
Joel’s hand comes to toy with the thin strap of your nightie; his fingers dig under the silk, slowly dragging both straps down your arms to reveal your naked body to him. His eyes dance along your chest, admiring the swell of your breast and the sight of your nipples that harden from the chilly air in the room. He pulls you into him, kissing the valley of your breast to the exposed skin of your neck. You giggle softly at the familiar beard scruff tickling your soft skin.
Your hand drifts between your bodies, finding his aching cock. Wrapping your hand around his girth, he twitches in your hand with a low moan. You knew what he needed– Relief. And you’d be more than willing to provide that for him.
“Take those off f’me, baby.” He removes his hands, letting his eyes drift to your panties, the only thing shielding all of you from him. You hooked your fingers around the soft cotton material, yanking them down so they could pool at your legs. You stepped out of your panties and closer to Joel, watching his hefty hand stroke up and down his cock, watching you unravel yourself for him and him only.
“Wanna take care of you daddy.” Your hands find his shoulders, rubbing them to soothe the ache he felt from the day. Joel did so much for you. He kept you safe and full in many ways without expecting anything in return. You’d never lift a finger as long as he was around, and that was apparent from the first time he took you to bed and made you cum two times with his fingers and once with his mouth. Sometimes, you wanted him to be selfish because he deserved it more than anyone.
“You’re so sweet, baby girl.” He smiles up at you, still pumping his cock. Your eyes fall to his length and the bush of wiry hairs above it, “Gonna ride daddy’s cock n take care of him real good? Make him feel better?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Spit on daddy’s cock, baby.”
You lean down to his length, eyes meeting his as he gives you a nod of approval. You gather the salvia in your mouth, letting it fall from your lips to his length. Joel’s eyes darkened, watching your spit drip down the head of his cock onto his shaft.
“One more time.”
You spit once more, and Joel removes his hand completely, arms reaching out for you. You step towards him, letting his hands find their way onto your hips. He pulls you into his lap once more, positioning you to his liking– both of your knees on either side of him as your wet entrance hovers over his cock. Your nails dig into his shoulders when you feel the hot tip of him rub against the wetness of your core.
“Fuck, baby.” He groans, eyes closed. His hands hold you firmly in place. “She’s dripping onto me– filthy girl gonna ruin these sheets.”
You whined, trying to move yourself onto him, but Joel was stronger, able to manipulate you however he wanted. You let out a sigh, just wanting anything he would give to dull the ache between your thighs.
Joel tsked, “Be patient baby, m’gonna make you feel better.” He moves you forward just enough so his tip catches at the notch of your cunt, “Daddy spoils you so much that you're always used to getting your way, hm?”
You gasped, burying your face into the crook of his neck at the feeling of his cock against your clit, “No, Daddy, m’your good girl, promise!”
Joel’s hand gently cupped your face, his fingers softly caressing your skin as if to reassure you that he was just teasing. He knew you were spoiled objectively but loved being the one to indulge you. More than that, he loved how much you needed him. It gave him a sense of purpose, something he would never tell you himself. He thrived on being the one you turned to, the one you trusted to take care of you. Knowing that you relied on him, that you needed him in ways no one else could. It wasn’t just indulgence; it was connection, it was love, and it was everything he never knew he craved.
With his other hand, Joel moved you back to your original position hovering above him as he guided you to sink onto his cock. Joel’s hand was steady on your head, forcing your gaze to meet his own, already pushing you further down on himself. You moaned at the slight ache fading into pleasure from his size, splitting you open.
“You’re doing so good, baby, y’almost there.” Joel sighed, eyes glancing down to where your bodies met. He was painfully hard from the sight of him completely stuffing you full, “Gonna give you some more.”
“Daddy.” You whined, body slumping forward in Joel’s grip as he pushed you down so you could take all that he was giving you. He was thick and hot inside of you, his member pulsing at the feeling of being where he’d longed to be– and almost always ended up every night.
“I know, baby girl, I know.” He soothed, kissing your cheek. He let you move against him a bit, letting you feel how deep he was inside you. Your gaze cast downwards to see where you disappeared inside of him, his cock buried snugly in your warmth.
Joel’s hands guided you up and down, setting the rhythm for you to mimic. You held a death grip on his shoulders, rolling your hips on top of him, a little cautious, not wanting to disappoint him. Joel noticed your apprehension and offered you an encouraging smile, his warm and steady gaze melting away your nerves. He knew how much you wanted to be his good girl, but to him, there was nothing you could ever do that would disappoint. Even if you faltered, even if you stumbled, in his eyes, you could never truly fall short.
“Fuck, look at you. Got the prettiest thing in all of Jackson bouncin’ on my lap.” He praised you with a moan, throwing his head back and focusing on how well your body always took him, “Doing such a good job for daddy.”
You watched Joel’s eyes rake all over your naked form, moaning when you’d sink back down onto his cock. His hands had reclaimed their place at your sides, moving you against him at a faster pace. One of your hands came to rest on the side of his face as you asked breathily, “Like this?”
You rode him at the pace he wanted, pulling his forehead to rest against your own, wanting to feel him as close as possible, though it probably wasn’t possible. Close would never be enough for you. You’d always want more when it came to Joel. The dark hairs at the base of his cock brushed against your clit whenever you sank onto him, spurring you on further.
“So fuckin’ sweet to me.” He nodded, confirming your earlier question, one hand gripping at your breasts as he licked at the nipple of the other. His tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves making your back arch in pleasure. He loved how you wanted to please him. You really were his good girl. He pulled his mouth off with a pop, “S’just what you needed huh? My perfect girl’s little pussy was just beggin’ t’be full o’me?”
You wanted to respond, but the feeling of him engulfing you made it impossible. Your face contorted the feeling of euphoria rushing over you when you felt Joel’s hips move upward on their own accord, meeting your movements to fuck you even harder.
Joel.
Joel.
Joel.
It was like a mantra in your head. It was all too much.
‘Daddy, I– I think m’ gonna-” You whined into the crook of his neck. Joel knew your body well enough that he didn’t need you to tell him when you were close; he always felt it. He felt your hot tears drip onto his chest, bringing his hand up to tangle into your hair as he kept up his powerful thrusts into you.
“Cum for me baby girl, s’okay you can do it.” He breathed out, his hand stroking your scalp, “I’ll take care of you. Let go f’me.”
So you did. You came hard, trying to muffle your cries by covering your mouth with Joel’s shoulder, which was damp from your tears. Your walls gripped Joel’s cock, throbbing as you came undone on top of him, eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat. With what little energy he had left, both of his hands came to grip the undersides of your thighs as he fucked into you.
His hips stuttered, a sign to you that he was going to come as well. Your walls squeezing him allowed that final push he needed as he emptied himself into you.
You were both left wrecked. Heavy breathing against sweaty skin pressed against each other. Joel’s arms enveloped you, gently rubbing your back as you tried to catch your breath, “Stay inside, please?”
“Okay, baby,” he chuckled, burying his nose in your hair and taking a deep breath. Your head rested on his shoulder as he held you close, keeping you pressed firmly against him. “Do you still want to open presents?”
summary, no matter what you'd always end up in the bed of your boyfriend's father
warnings, p in v, cheating (duh not cool but when joel miller tempts u it is!), daddy kink if you squint, a teensy bit of fingering, fat age gap between joel and reader, keeping up with the canon that joel's son is named jack but hes a dick in this sorry, not proof read
wc, 2k
note, joel miller is the type of fine that physically pains me to think about... i was thinking about making this a series because i love these two so much but we'll see :)
Joel Miller hated nights.
He hated how he could never seem to fall asleep no matter how hard he tried. He hated the sliver of moonlight that seeped in through the blinds of his bedroom, almost taunting him with the agonizingly slow routine of the moon when all he wanted was for the sun to make its return. He hated the silence too– though it wasn’t the silence he appreciated during slow mundane mornings; it was the kind that was almost suffocating forcing him to confront every thought he tried burying during the day.
The blur of all the restless nights he’d spent alone bled into one another as he found your warmth replacing the cool, bare sheets of his king.
He was fucked up, and he knew that.
No matter which angle he approached it with, he knew. There wasn't any justification for his actions— not that he ever tried. As someone who gave and gave time after time again you’d think he would be able to cut himself some slack.
Not when it came to the privilege of a pretty thing like you waiting to sneak in between his sheets– with the moon only as witness after his son would fall asleep.
“Missed ya.” Is all he says as he nuzzles his face into the dip of your neck. He breathes every ounce of you in, and when he exhales, you giggle softly at the light air that tickles your skin. His hand that had been resting in between your thighs drifts upward to slip under your shirt. His hands grazed your nipple lightly, and he stifled a groan.
“I have to close the door.” You remind him, though it comes out as a whisper when you feel him start to grope your breasts.
He shakes his head, “Don’t.” He guides your steps until your back hits his bed. His mouth ghosts over your neck, peppering feather-light kisses on your skin.
“Joel, what if he hears?” You whisper so quietly you aren’t even sure you’d said it aloud– but you must’ve since he answers.
“Guess you’ll just hafta be quiet then.” His closed-mouth kisses turn into open-mouthed ones, conscious enough not to leave any visible marks, just saliva in their wake. He places a wet kiss on your Adam's apple, trailing upwards to the underside of your jaw until he gets to your lips. One of his hands moves the hair out of your eyes so you can see him as he places his lips against yours. It’s a silent admission, and he doesn’t have to say anything for you to understand. This is how it’s supposed to be. This. You, here. With me.
His chapped lips rub against your own; a sloppy semblance of a dance. Opening up a bit, you let him slot his tongue into your mouth. He tastes of faint mint toothpaste as he spreads the artificial flavor in your mouth. Your hand twines in his curly hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer to yourself. No matter how close he’d get, it would never be enough. You’d always want more.
He presses himself into you, feeling his hardened length through his boxers. He moves against you slowly, his eyes open, watching every scrunch of your nose, the furrow of your brow, and the ‘O’ shape you make with your mouth. You moan into him. The friction of his movements against your clit causes you to move your face to the side and voice your pleasure. His hand darts to cover your mouth, not giving up his agonizing ruts against your center.
“Gotta be quiet, babygirl.” He reminds you with a tone that’s in between gentle and stern. You nod, and his hand moves from your mouth, drifting between your bodies. He slips past your panties, using his index finger to drag past your folds and collect your slick. His finger glistens under the moonlight that slips in past the window blinds. He holds it out in front of himself, eyes trained on yours as he brings it to his mouth. He let out a shameless groan against his finger, working his tongue to ensure none had gone to waste, “You have no idea how sweet this pussy is, y’wanna taste, baby?”
You stare at him with big eyes and without a second thought you nodded, unable to speak even if you wanted to. The corners of his mouth tugged into a crooked smile. He brought the finger that had previously been in his mouth to your lips. The pad of his finger traced your bottom lip, feeling the groves that made up the skin there. You opened up a bit, trying your best to capture his finger in your mouth. Your efforts fell short as he dragged his finger to catch the inside of your bottom lip. He was doing this on purpose. You felt incredibly hot– his heavy breathing on your skin seemed to be the only thing to cool you down. Finally, he leaned in, catching his lips with yours once more. He shoved his tongue in slowly, causing you to moan at the taste of yourself in his mouth.
“Perfect.” He pulled away whispering against your lips, like it was a secret just between the two of you, the way you melted in his arms made his head rush, “Every inch.”
You sighed, letting your head rest on his neck as you tried to catch your breath, “M’sorry I didn't come yesterday, he stayed up all night playing with his friends but I swear I thought about you every–”
“Don’t you ever be sorry about somethin’ like that. S’not your fault baby.” He stops you by bringing his large hand up from between your bodies to cup the side of your face, it’s almost comical how it almost covers the entire surface, “Just want some attention, hm? My sweet girl always thinkin’ of me.”
A part of him worried about the nights you never showed up but he would never tell you that. You weren't his and you weren't able to sneak off as much as he wanted you to. The nights you were a no show always left Joel with that nagging voice in the back of his head that probed at him taunting, you didn’t want this anymore. Of course he’d respect your decision if it ever came down to that. He was older than you, lived more than enough of his life, and a wife that up and left as soon as she’d brought their son into this world to show for it.
You made it easy to forget all of that, and if it were up to him you’d both stay in his bed for as long as you’d have him.
His lips brushed the top of your head, “You’re here with me now s’all that matters.”
You lifted your head up to see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he held you tight like this was just some sick dream and he was a perverted old man for lusting over his own son’s girlfriend. But he wasn’t because you were real and you were here and fuck you were perfect.
Joel stood up, his hands finding your ankles and you let out a soft giggle as he pulled you toward him allowing your legs to dangle off the side of his king. He smiled softly standing in between your thighs, allowing his hand to run up and down the inside of them.
“Joel.” You sigh, reaching out for him always hating any purposeful distance between the both of you. You wanted all of him, “Can you kiss me?”
He caves like he always does for you. Bending down one hand on the inside of your thigh as the other travels up to rest his palm against your face as he leans in for another kiss. He kisses with fervor it’s slow as he takes his time with his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, gently nibbling down on your bottom lip when he pulls away, “Wanna make you cum for me babygirl.”
“Y’gonna let me do that for you?” He asks breathlessly, hand slipping past your pajama shorts and over your panties.
You nod your eyes wide, the contact causing you to buck into his hand.
“Needy little thing… S’what you are huh?” He ran his fingers over your wetness and let out a groan at the feeling of your warmth before pulling his hand back entirely, “Tell me what y’want sweet girl.”
“Want you inside me Joel.” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded. When it came to Joel Miller you had zero shame, “Wanna feel you here.”
His eyes darkened, following the hand that pressed just above your lower stomach. He replaced yours with his own, pressing down gently with a groan. His other hand pulled down your pajama shorts along with your panties down just enough so he could see your core.
“Fuck.” He mumbled, “S’what my sweet girl wants?’
You nodded at his words, eyes focused on his face alone. You hadn’t even registered that he had pulled his boxers down; the hand that had previously been inside of you along with your juices was now around his cock. He lazily stroked it peering down at you with a crooked smile.
“Gonna fuck you baby– Gonna– Fuck– Gonna feel me so deep.” He gripped his length as he rested the tip at your entrance, gently running the tip along your opening, collecting the juices there, “S’that what you need? T’feel daddy deep inside you?”
You nodded.
“Tell me.” His tone took on a desperate one, “Tell me you need it baby.”
“Always need you Daddy– Need it inside me. Wanna feel it deep inside.” You whined at the feeling of him rubbing his tip against your entrance knowing he could easily slip inside if he wanted to.
Joel pushed himself inside, as moans like sighs of relief sounded from both of your chests. He stilled for a moment enjoying how perfect this moment was. Your chest heaving heavily as you peered at him with glazed eyes. Fucking ethereal.
He wanted you to feel it– the feeling of being so full in more ways than one. How perfectly he fits inside you– the shape and every ridge of his cock. You were made for it– made for him.
His hands gripped your thighs lifting them so he’d be able to reach you at a perfect angle and began to pound into you at harsh speed. His thrusts were deep as they shook your pliant body on the bed, yet again another reminder of the differences between your boyfriend and his father. You’d never really felt loved when you’d have sex with Jack– It was more or less an experience for him than you. He just wanted to empty himself inside of you, never really wanting to make sure you enjoyed yourself. After finding yourself in Joel’s bed one rainy evening, it only made sense that his giving nature bled over into the bedroom. By the time the storm cleared, you knew this wouldn’t be a one time occurrence.
“He doesn’t deserve you babygirl.” He groaned against your neck, he’d been so lost in the feeling of you around him he wasn’t able to stop himself from leaving marks on your body. He sucked into your skin, kissing and licking the pain away. The sound of his skin smacking against yours as he fucked into you with such vigor made you disregard it completely, “Want everyone to know you n’this sweet pussy belong to me.”
Everything he did always made your head spin. The combination of the sweet words and his musky scent that was just so inherently Joel made you light headed. Him saying you belong to him was just confirming words you felt linger in the air between you when this whole ordeal started.
“Tell me.” He moaned, trying to delay the steady approach of his orgasm. He didn’t want this to end, “I need it.” He urged you, and you looked down to see him thrusting in and out of you. You moaned at the sight of your hole taking all of him inside of you. Joel caught you by surprise when he leaned down to capture your lips, biting on your bottom lip as he continued to fuck into you with the same harsh pace he’d set previously.
You hadn’t even noticed that you’d begun to cry until his large hand wiped the tears from your eyes. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were glossy. He loved that he was the one making you feel this way– absolutely wrecked.
His hand went to your clit, rubbing it as he fucked into you with fervor, “Tell me you’re mine.”
You were close and he could tell.
“Please” He begged, the desperation in his voice made you clench around him, “Need to hear you say it sweet girl.”
You didn’t know what to do. His hand came to wipe the tears from your eyes, fucking you harder, making sure you felt him and every roll of his hips. Your legs wrapped around him in an effort to get him impossibly closer to you than he was already. This new angle allowed him to get even deeper inside of you. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you looked into his eyes though it had been said many times over before for the first time you said, “I’m yours Joel.”
“And m’yours baby.” He whined into your mouth, “All yours– Fuck– No one elses’ you own me.”
It seemed like your tears came out tenfold at the statement, the overwhelming sense of pleasure– of love and care. His hips started to stutter but he tried to push through, and you let out a strangled cry as the feeling in your stomach intensified at the realization;
You owned Joel Miller.
“I own you.” You repeated back in a whine-confirmation, your voice still unsure if you’d even heard him right.
“M’ all yours sweet girl never been anyone else’s.” Joel responded with a moan. It was foreign to the both of you, a sense of vulnerability you’d experienced with anyone before and it’d obviously been far too long since Joel had let someone in the way he let you.
But he was willing for you.
“Fuck– Im– m’gonna cum Joel.”
Your orgasm wracked through your body before you could get another word out. You cried into his shoulder, nails digging harshly into his back as you garbled unintelligible words.
The look on your face was enough to send him over the edge, giving one last thrust he buried himself to the hilt as he peered down to see where your two bodies met. The only thing he was able to make out was the curly hair at the base of his cock as he emptied himself inside of you with a strangled groan. His eyes quickly found yours to communicate you both already knew;
I know, I felt it too.
After he’d cleaned you up he peppered your face in soft kisses, wrapping his arms around you. He laid there with you, enjoying the feeling of you snuggled warmly against his chest.
You looked at him like you always did. The aquiline shape of his nose and grey whiskers that made up his facial hair.
He was beautiful in a way that felt beyond your grasp, as if the very essence of it existed in a language you’d never learn to speak.
Then he softly looked down at your face that rested on his bare chest, his hand found yours, a quiet plea in his touch.
‘Don’t sleep with him,’ he whispered, his voice steady but filled with something deeper, something unspoken, “Stay– stay with me tonight.”
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