Warnings: 18+, smut, slow burn with lots of sexual tension, time jumps (reader ages from 18-20, negan is in his 40s), age-gap, very taboo relationship (if this isn’t your thing, pls don’t read), p in v, extreme daddy kink, oral (both), masturbating in front of him, lots of dirty talk (negan being absolutely filthy), breeding
“Isn’t your dad home?”
“He’s asleep, don’t worry.” You smiled, pulling your boyfriend by his shirt and kissing him. It was a quarter past midnight, there was no way Negan would still be waiting up on you. You discarded your clothes on the living room floor before bending over the couch. Your knees pressed into the cushions while your boyfriend lined himself up behind you and entered you with one quick thrust.
You moaned, resting your forehead on the arm of the couch while he plowed into you from behind. He gripped your hair and pulled, forcing you to look up. And when you did, you locked eyes with your stepdad standing in the door frame to the hallway just across the living room. His dark gaze was fixed on you, an unreadable expression on his face as he stood with his arms crossed.
Your boyfriend must not have noticed him, because his thrusting didn’t stop and only became harder, making you gasp. You couldn’t look away from Negan, being intrigued by his willingness to stay and watch you. Moaning even louder, you put on a show for him. Negan’s gaze roamed to your breasts that were bouncing with each thrust before slowly trailing back to your eyes.
Like you had fantasized about a million times, you imagined that it was Negan behind you, and that thought alone was enough to make you come undone.
“Daddyyy!” You cried out, making a small smirk appear on Negan’s face before he disappeared down the hall and to his bedroom.
2 years later:
Negan never told your mom what happened. In fact, he never even mentioned it to you either. It was like the entire thing never happened. Your mom started working out of town more and more. In fact, she was hardly ever home, which made Negan step up and become the strict parent. It was super annoying, especially when he would lecture you about your clothing.
“I’m 20.” You scoffed like you couldn’t believe this was even an issue. When are you going to start treating me like an adult?!”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Go change, now.”
“Make me.” You realized how childish it sounded coming out of your mouth, but you didn’t care. You wanted to push his buttons.
“Do not test me, sweetheart.”
You crossed your arms defiantly, looking up at him, unwilling to move. Before you realized what was happening, you were being thrown over his shoulder. You yelped, trying to grab him, but his grasp was tight on your back thigh as you hung upside down. He carried you up the stairs without saying a word.
“Is this necessary?” You yelled, blood rushing to your head.
When he made it to your bedroom, he kicked the door open and threw you on the bed.
“What is wrong with you?!” You screamed.
He ignored you again, going to your closet and shifting through all your clothes before finding a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve shirt to throw at you.
“Are you serious? It’s the middle of summer.” You threw the clothes back at him.
“Maybe if you owned a pair of decent shorts, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
You stared at him in disbelief. He wasn’t joking. He leaned against the doorframe of your closet and your mind flashed back to the moment 2 years ago - an image you replay in your head often.
“Fine.” You stood and removed your shirt, revealing a pink bra underneath.
“Y/n.” He warned. “What are you doing?” His voice was almost a whisper.
“Changing.” You shrugged, pulling off your skirt, leaving you in nothing but a small pair of panties that matched your bra.
Negan’s eyes remained on yours, refusing to look down at your body.
“What’s wrong? Nothing you haven’t seen before.” You smirked.
“You’re grounded. You can forget about going out tonight.”
“Then I guess I won’t need this either.” You hummed, unclasping your bra and dropping it to the floor.
He gave in this time, dropping his eyes to your breasts. His jaw flexed like he was holding himself back.
“Bringing back memories, daddy?”
He walked towards you, stopping when he was close enough to look down at you.
“What would your mother say if she knew what a little slut you were?”
“Doesn’t matter. I have no respect for her after I found out she cheated on you.”
Negan’s brows scrunched together as he searched your eyes. You bent over, pressing your ass to his crotch as you pulled your phone from your skirt pocket that was on the floor. He sighed frustratedly, taking a step back.
You handed him your phone after clicking on your mom’s messages. You almost felt bad for telling her secret, but she deserved it. Negan was so good to her and deserved to know the truth. His expression was blank as he read through the proof.
“I thought you deserved to know. I’m sorry.” You said sincerely.
He tossed the phone on the bed behind you. “Thanks, but I already knew.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“I found out a while ago after seeing a text from him on her phone.”
“Oh.. then why are you still with her?” You asked, suddenly feeling silly being almost naked in front of him during a serious conversation.
“Somebody’s gotta take care of you.” He raised his eyebrows before turning and leaving your room. “Oh, and I meant what I said by the way. You’re grounded. For the rest of the weekend. And put some damn clothes on.” He said, shutting your door and leaving you in the uncomfortable silence of your room.
The next day:
You’ve spent the majority of the day in your room, transitioning between a book and scrolling on your phone. Anything to take your mind off the awkwardness of yesterday.
Negan has barely said a word to you in the couple times you’ve seen him today. Out of boredom, you decided to pop in your earbuds and watch an adult video on your phone. You found your favorite stepdad video that portrayed a man who looked extremely similar to Negan and your hand drifted underneath the covers as you played with yourself.
The volume on your earbuds was turned up to the max, so you didn’t hear your bedroom door open. You were so caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice him approaching you either until your phone was ripped from your hand. Pulling the blanket over yourself, you quickly shot up and pulled out your earbuds.
“What the fuck?!” You yelled, turning a bright shade of red when you realized he was watching the video. His expression was unreadable as he watched it for a moment and you wondered if he liked it. Turning the phone around to you, he raised his eyebrows.
“Seriously?” He said, reading the title of the video out loud and you wanted to die of embarrassment.
You jerked the phone out of his hand. “What happened to knocking? And what gives you the right to just take my phone? I’m an adult.”
“First of all, I did knock but clearly -" He paused, glancing at your phone before continuing. "..You didn’t hear me. Secondly, I pay for your phone, sweetheart. I can look at whatever I want.”
You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Okay, so now what? I’m grounded even longer?"
“No. Now? You’re going to finish.”
Negan removed the blanket from your body and continued standing at the side of your bed. His hands slipped in his pockets and he nodded, giving you permission to continue.
“Are...are you serious…?”
“Orrr you can stay grounded. It’s up to you.”
You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He wanted to watch you touch yourself. You adjusted yourself slightly, so that he could see your pussy completely. You were only in your panties and felt the wet spot that had already formed on them.
You moved your panties to the side with one hand, giving him a better view. Seeing him watch you with his eyes blown with lust was enough to make you wetter before you even touched yourself again. Reaching your other hand down, you ran a finger through your slit, getting it wet before circling your clit.
He didn’t take his eyes off your pussy and his jaw flexed when your finger dipped inside. Wet sounds filled the room as you started to moan softly, seeing the bulge in his pants grow bigger by the second.
“Negan.. I need your help, please.” You begged. His eyes met yours but he didn’t answer you. You could see he was losing his mind inside, and you knew you were close to breaking him.
“Can I just see it?” You asked, referring to his cock. “I’ve always wanted to know. Please?”
“No. Now be a good girl and show me what you can do. We both know you don’t need my help.” His adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he restrained himself. You did as he said, moaning louder and rubbing your clit faster. You felt your orgasm building quickly and your breaths became frequent and shallow as you locked eyes with him.
“Daddy…” You whined.
As soon as the word came off your tongue, Negan caved - diving between your legs as he spread them wider. You held your panties back further, giving him more access and immediately cried out when his tongue dipped inside of you.
He groaned into you, burying his face deeper and licking every drop as you rode out your orgasm. You tried gripping his hair but he had already pulled away and took a few steps back. You sat up quickly, not wanting him to leave.
"Negan.."
“Fuck. That should not have happened."
“No, wait-“ You tried to explain but he left your room, closing the door behind him.
A few hours later:
“Come in.” You responded to the knock on your door.
“Hey kiddo, listen. About earlier.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” You said, keeping your eyes on your book.
He sighed, dropping his head. “It can't happen again. It shouldn't have in the first place. That was my fault, and I shouldn't-
You slammed your book shut, looking at him annoyed. "It wasn't your fault. I tried to seduce you.. more than once. And failed miserably. And honestly, I'm embarrassed, so please. Let's just forget about it."
"Sweetheart." He walked towards your bed, sitting at the edge. "You don't have to be embarrassed."
"You've seen me naked. And didn't do anything. You obviously don't want me or find me attractive, and I get that now."
"Woah, slow down." His large hand slid over your leg to comfort you. "You? Are the most beautiful thing in the world to me, y/n. You know that. But I-"
"But you don't want me in that way."
"Baby, this is about what I can't have. Not what I want."
"If you never met my mom, and we ran into each other.. would you..?" Your cheeks turned pink and you couldn't finish your question.
"Yes. Without question, darlin'."
A tear slipped down your cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb, looking down at you like he wanted to take your pain away.
"I wish you would have met me first." You whispered.
He got up and kissed your forehead. "Me too." He mumbled, and you questioned if he actually said it or if you just heard it in your head.
You stopped him before he left the room. "Negan?"
"Yea, doll?"
"Am I still grounded?"
He laughed, thinking for a moment. "Why? Somewhere you need to be?"
"No, actually, I was thinking we could.. spend some time together tonight and watch a movie in the theater room like we used to?"
"Abso-fuckin'-lutely, sweetheart. You gonna let me choose the movie for once?"
"Not a chance." You laughed, knowing you always get your way. And you always will.
Later that night:
The smell of buttery popcorn filtered through your bedroom as you stepped out of the shower. You couldn't help but smile as you got ready for movie night, smothering your skin in your favorite lotion and pulling on your cheekiest pair of underwear. You dug through your t-shirt drawer, pulling out one of Negan's old rock band tees that you stole years ago. It was big enough on you to cover your ass, so you passed on wearing pants.
“So that’s where that shirt went.” He laughed as you walked into the kitchen. “Been looking everywhere for it."
“Oh, I didn’t think you wore it anymore. You can have it back.” You said, making note of how good he looked. His hair was damp from a shower and grey sweatpants rested low on his waist, not leaving much to your imagination. You tried not to stare at the outline of his manhood, but it was impossible not to.
Negan approached you, handing you the popcorn bowl and your favorite candy while he grabbed your drinks.
“No way, darlin’. It looks much better on you.” His tone was flirty as he stood towering beside you, darting his tongue out to slide seductively over his bottom lip. He smelled amazing, too - like leather soap.
"Decide on a movie?" He asked, following behind you down the stairs to the renovated movie room. You had spent so many weekend nights in here as a kid but this was the first time you and Negan would be spending it together alone.
"I was thinking something we haven't seen before. There's a scary movie out that looks good."
"You hate scary movies." He chuckled, setting down the drinks on the coffee table and you did the same, picking up the remote and finding the movie.
"Yeah when I was a kid." You laughed. "Not anymore."
You started the movie and turned off the lights as Negan got settled in his usual spot - the wide chaise lounge end of the sectional where he could rest his legs out in front of him. The couch was hugely oversized, with the lounge part almost the size of a full bed.
You made your way over to the other side of the couch, trying to give him his space and not make it weird.
“The hell are you doing?”
You gave him a weird look. What do you mean?”
“You always sit next to me on movie night. Get your ass over here."
You hoped he couldn't see the excitement on your face as your heart beat out of his chest. He was right - you did always snuggle next to him during movie nights. But that was years ago, before you could look at him without imaging him on top of you screwing your brains out.
“Just like old times, huh?” You grinned, glancing at him as you both munched on the popcorn and watched the slow intro of the movie. You could sense his gaze on you but kept yours on the screen.
“Not exactly.”
“What’s different now?” You asked innocently.
His voice was low and raspy when he answered. “I know how your pussy tastes.”
Your face turned pink and butterflies in your stomach came to life. You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked at him. There was a small smirk on his face and his eyes dropped to your mouth. You were seconds away from crashing your lips to his when a girl in the movie screamed. Negan cleared his throat and focused his attention back to the movie, so you did the same, trying to calm down your racing heart in the process.
You both sat in silence for awhile before Negan leaned over you to put the popcorn on the table. When he settled back into the couch, his arm slid around your back as his thumb slipped underneath your shirt, holding your waist. You felt like your skin was on fire.
He noticed the goosebumps on your bare legs as you shivered from his touch. Reaching for the blanket draped over the back of the couch, he covered you both and you took the opportunity to snuggle into him closer, resting your head on his shoulder and laying your hand over his toned stomach. You wanted to slip your hand under his shirt too but you were frozen, waiting for him to make the next move.
Half of the movie flew by and you had no idea what was going on. All you could think about was Negan. You hid your face during the jump scares each time, using it as an excuse to bury your face in his shirt and smell his manly scent.
"You can look now." He chuckled. You slowly lifted your head from his shirt, and when you did, you locked eyes with him. His hand slid against your cheek, cupping your jaw before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours softly.
You kissed him back, and he deepened the kiss when he knew you were comfortable with it, letting his tongue slip past your lips and rub against yours. You accidentally whimpered as his other hand finally moved lower on your hip. His fingers teased the edge of your panties before dipping in a few inches until his hand was fully pressed against your ass cheek while he kissed you.
You followed his lead, sliding your hand lower on his stomach until it reached the top of his sweatpants. You felt his dick grow underneath your touch and stroked him through the material. Negan’s hips lifted slightly as he moaned into your mouth.
“I wanna taste you here, too, daddy.” You said, finally pulling away from his mouth and sliding his sweatpants down in the front.
“Baby….” He warned, but he didn’t tell you to stop. So you pushed the material down further until his cock sprang free and bounced against his stomach.
“It’s so big and.. pretty.” You said amazed as you stroked it. You studied the veins in it and noted how tiny your hand looked in comparison.
He chuckled softly, dipping his fingers deeper in your panties until they reached your soaked cunt from behind. “Not as pretty as this little pussy.”
You moaned, pushing your ass into his touch until his finger slid inside you. “Fuckin’ leaking for daddy already.”
You tried to focus on his cock while he fingered you, taking the tip in your mouth and getting it wet before letting it slide to the back of your throat.
“Ahhhh shit, baby, that’s it.” He groaned, leaning his head back with pleasure. You bobbed your head up and down his length while his free hand tangled in your hair and guided you.
“You are fantastic at this, baby girl. Making daddy feel so fucking good.”
A bead of his precum leaked into your mouth and you moaned around his cock, loving the taste of it. Finally coming up for air, you took a deep breath before he pulled you to his lips again and kissed you harder than before. You climbed over him, straddling his lap as he sank a little lower on the couch. Both of his hands reached in your panties and gripped your ass while you hovered over him, feeling his cock brush against you teasingly.
“Negan.. please.. I need you inside me.” You begged between kisses, making him instantly rip your panties apart with his hands before tossing them to the floor.
He guided you by your hips until the tip of his rock hard cock was aligned perfectly with your throbbing entrance.
"You sure this is what you want, baby?"
You answered him by sliding down and taking him as far as you could, stopping when it reached your limit. You whimpered at the pain of trying to take him deeper.
“Come on, doll. You wanted me so bad and now you’ve got me. Take it all.”
You couldn’t believe this was happening. You had never heard him talk this way. Not even through the walls when he fucked your mom. You bit down on your lip and sat on him completely, letting him reach a spot that no one had reached before.
“Oh my god.. fuck.. it hurts.” But in the best, otherworldly way.
“Look at me.” He gripped your jaw. “Focus on me, baby." He whispered, encouraging you trust him while you adjust to his size. You leaned your forehead against his as you started to move up and down. Slowly the pain was replaced with pure pleasure. A feeling you never knew existed before him.
“There you go, baby. Just like that.” He grunted, slipping his hands underneath your shirt and squeezing your tits. "Fuck, doll. You're making me feel so damn good."
Your cheeks were flushed while you moaned and buried your face into the side of his neck. His hands returned to your ass as he helped you bounce up and down on him faster.
Wet slapping sounds and moans from both of you echoed in the room like surround sound, drowning out the movie.
“Negan." You whined in his ear while grabbing at his hair. "I'm-" You couldn't finish your sentence. Your core tightened and your vision went blurry when warm liquid suddenly poured out of you and all over his lap.
“Fuuuck yes, that's my girl.” He groaned, looking down between you at the feeling of your juices coating his cock. He gave your ass a light smack before standing up and bending you over the couch. You still felt lightheaded when he entered you from behind, harder and somehow deeper this time.
“Oh my god! Negan!”
“Who?” He asked, jerking your hair back so that your back arched perfectly.
“Daddy!!” You corrected yourself, earning a small chuckle from him as he fucked you harder and faster.
“Ohh baby, you are such a good girl, taking daddy’s cock like this. You know how bad I’ve wanted to bend you over this fucking couch?”
You answered him with a louder moan while his balls slapped against your skin.
He laughed, breathlessly, pulling you back further by your hair until your back was pressed against his chest. "That day you teased me with your little prick boyfriend? ... It took everything in me not to walk over and fuck you myself. I should have made him watch instead so he could hear what you sound like when you actually cum."
"You should have." You moaned, barely about to speak.
He sucked on your neck before reaching around your waist and finding your clit. You leaned heavily against him as your felt another orgasm growing.
“Negan.. will you cum in me?”
He groaned in your ear. “I can’t baby. We can’t risk that.”
“Don’t you love me, daddy?” You asked innocently.
“So fucking much, sweetheart.” His thrusts became faster and his breathing was unsteady, telling you he was close.
“Then prove it.. Please daddy, cum in me.”
That was all it took for him to let out a loud, long groan and you knew from the way he stopped deep inside of you that ropes of his seed were splattering your walls. You came right after him, being completely sent over the edge with knowing your pussy was full of his cum. You both breathed heavily, coming down from your high before he finally pulled out of you.
“Goddamn. And here I thought you had me wrapped around your finger before. Now? You are mine, all of you, baby.” He said, pulling you in for a kiss.
“Negan.. what are we gonna do?” You asked worried.
“We’ll figure that out later, sweetheart. Right now? I wanna take you up to your room and eat that sweet pussy out till morning.”
Summary: Like a good neighbor, Joel Miller is there.
Warnings: Smut, a big spider, age gap (Joel 36, reader 26), no use of y/n, no/pre-outbreak, Joel never gets laid and neither does reader, unprotected PIV, rough-ish sex, oral sex (f, m receiving), creampie, sweat kink (smile and wave, boys).
A/N: Shoutout to @strang3lov3 for the inspo, and enjoy my take on pre outbreak Joel 🤍
Word count: 3.5k Rating: 18+ explicit
You have the house to yourself this weekend, with your parents away on a trip to a family reunion you’d prefer to avoid. Your day has been spent applying for jobs, the income from which might help you get the hell out of your childhood home at the age of twenty six, where you’ve been living since you graduated college two years ago and have spent most of your time working odd jobs. Sometimes you help your neighbor with her homework for some extra cash, a fourteen year old girl named Sarah, who would much rather spend her time playing soccer than doing English homework.
It’s a boring night overall, reruns entertaining you as you eat your pizza, trying to think if any of your childhood friends might be visiting home at this time of year. You see something move in the corner of your eye, disregarding it at first as you continue watching TV but suddenly spotting a massive spider on the armrest of the couch no more than a minute later, and jumping out of your seat, screaming at the top of your lungs. You can handle a lot of things when you’re home alone; thunder, creaking staircases, general darkness, knocks on the door at strange hours. But your Achilles heel, the one thing that makes you want to burn your parents’ property down immediately, is spiders. So when you see that nasty, crawling, eight-or-whatever-the-fuck legged creature leisurely making its way across the couch, you grab the house phone and dial the number of the first person you can think of; Sarah’s dad, Joel.
A person you’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to, thanks to a dumb little crush you’ve been suspecting he reciprocates for a while now. He’s not the type to act on it, however, making himself too busy with work, being a single dad and acting responsible for his younger brother. You’ve never heard of any sort of girlfriend, never seen any women arriving at or leaving his place. He seems, on all counts, incredibly single. Not that you’re the one to talk, not having had a serious relationship for the past four years and any connections you’ve had being of the fleeting sort that last for a few weeks at best.
It doesn’t make sense that Joel has been single for so long, though, considering that he’s only thirty six, he’s tall, muscular, kind, has beautiful dark brown eyes and a deep, husky voice you’re often lucky enough to hear from your kitchen window. Sometimes you feel an urge to freak him out, to go up to him in his driveway as he’s loading up his truck and just ask him if we wants to fuck. One time you even rang his doorbell after a night out, drunk and ready to get it on, not realizing the driveway was empty and so was his house.
“Joel” you say as he picks up, dragging out the vowels and sounding like you’re about to cry, “There’s a massive spider, I need you to come get it”. There’s a silence on the other end, and then what sounds like half of a chuckle, “There’s a what?”. You stand a few feet away from the touch, on the verge of actual tears now as you stare at the thing, unamused by his teasing. “Just come over here now or I’m gonna burn this place to the ground” you say, already hearing the clinking of his keys as he says, “Stay right there, I’ll be over in a sec”.
You stay completely still as you wait, just watching the slow movements of this disgusting creature, shuddering every time it changes directions. You lose track of time eventually, convinced that you’ll stand there for the rest of your existence, observing the path of an intruding insect ruining your night for reasons you cannot understand. “You gotta start lockin’ the goddamn door when you’re home alone” he scolds as he walks in, sighing and dropping his keys on the dining table before coming up next to you.
Yeah yeah, you roll your eyes, “Just fucking get the thing, it’s disgusting”. He scowls at you, and you slap his shoulder to urge him forward, hurry. After observing it for a few seconds, he goes into the kitchen, comes back with a glass in hand, setting it on the coffee table as he grabs a magazine and rips out a page. Without saying a word, he traps the spider in the glass and watches it for a moment as it crawls around in there. You come closer and shudder at it, getting a whiff of his cologne.
You follow him into the hallway and he opens the door with his elbow, crouches down and lets the spider go, telling you to say bye to him as he watches the thing scurry away, and stands back up, heading into the kitchen to put away his trap. He comes back out, clearly about to leave before you stop him, in utter disbelief of him not taking advantage of the fact that you’re home alone. “Aren’t we gonna hang out?” you ask him. He narrows his eyes a little, shifts them around, “Are we?”. You roll your eyes, shake your head and look at him as sternly as you can, ”I just went through a traumatizing experience. We have to debrief”.
-
“Where’s Sarah tonight?” you ask, sitting on his couch in front of the TV. “Sleepover at her friend’s place” he answers matter of factly, glancing down at you for no more than a second. This is fucking insane. You can see his jaw clenching and feel a slight bounce in his leg, and despite the fact that you’ve sat there tucked into his armpit with your face leaning onto his chest for close to fifteen minutes, he’s no closer to making a move.
It’s time to pull out the big guns, you decide. You really have no choice at this point.
“Oh my god!” you yell, looking towards an empty corner of the room, grabbing the fabric of his shirt so it’s balled up in your fists. “What?” he asks, too nonchalantly, while his arms instinctively wrap around you. “It’s another fucking spider, oh my god”, you whine and look up at him, your face mere inches away from his. He looks down at you for a few moments as you shift your eyes around and try not to laugh, clearly caught in your lie as you stay still and don’t run away from this supposed second spider. He rolls his eyes, slides one hand up to the back of your neck, and leans down to kiss you.
He’s a good kisser too, really good, subtly swiping his tongue along your bottom lip, waiting for you to open up so he can sweep it into your mouth as you get up on your knees, slide your leg across his lap and straddle him, his hands rubbing down your sides and landing on your ass. Now you have him where you want him, and he’s free to take the reins. His hands grasp your hips tightly, and he slowly starts to rock you back and forth as you grind as subtly as you can against his hardening cock, hidden under his sweatpants.
“You wanna fuck me?” you purr, and he looks a little shocked as he sits there, his hands still moving you up along his erection and his dark eyes watching you intensely. "I mean..", he trails off and looks down at your body, at how the thickness of your ass fits in his palm, "Can’t say no to a beautiful thing like you". "Let me take a quick shower, though?” he asks, wrapping his hand around your jaw and tracing his thumb along your bottom lip, “Didn’t get the chance to after work, so-”. “Absolutely not”, you cut him off, lifting his arm and getting a whiff of his sweat, “God, you smell good”. He looks concerned somehow, “You're a little bit of a freak, aren't y-”, but you lean in to kiss him again to shut him up while you tug at his shirt, and he takes it off before returning the favor, pulling your top over your head and unhooking your bra in a hurry.
He pulls your chest into his face and runs his nose up your sternum, rocking you a little faster back and forth, subtly lifting his hips to grind into you as he takes your nipple into his mouth and flicks his tongue around it. You whimper, and his responding growl makes your wetness start to drip into your panties. “Fuck, just get inside me, Joel” you moan as he licks your nipple, massaging your other tit with his palm, and he subtly shakes his head before flipping you over, laying you down on the couch.
Gripping your pants and panties in one go, he starts to slide them down your legs as you panic a little, knowing you haven’t showered since this morning and haven’t seen a razor in weeks. “Y-you don't have to-” you stutter as he tosses your clothes on the floor and spreads your legs, throwing one over the back of the couch and the other over his shoulder as he gets on his elbows between your thighs. “What, and just dive right in?” he snarks, “Fuck, no, I'm not tryna hurt you”. So he's big, good to know.
He drags the tip of his tongue up the sweaty crevices of your folds, much to your horror turned arousal as he groans from the taste. Then he starts to lick you properly, gently and slowly, circling his tongue around your clit and lifting his hand up to slide a finger into you, tracing your inner walls up and down until he finds the spot that makes you tense up and curls into it as you thread your fingers through his hair and start to moan his name. You can’t remember the last time anyone went down on you, and just as you start to remember when the last time might have been, your thighs start to shake, and the most intense orgasm you’ve had in months overtakes you, making you squeeze your legs around his head as he continues to lap you up.
He retracts to pull off his boxers, and you watch as his cock springs free, long and thick and flushed, wet at the tip, ready for you. Then he sits down on the cushion, reaches over and grabs you by the waist, hoisting you up on your knees on either side of his thighs. You stay still for a second as he looks at you intensely, stroking the base of his cock, holding the tip right at your opening. “You want it?” he asks, low and gravelly, his voice filled with lust, and you nod, biting your lip, before starting to sink down with your hands on his shoulders.
The wide head of him breaches your entrance and starts to push in, making you gasp and tense up before you hear him whisper a little sternly, “Relax, sweetheart”. You try your best, slowly sitting down on him while he stretches you open, letting your head fall back on your shoulders as his big, warm hands slowly guide you down until he bottoms out, and he groans as you lean back, feeling the very tip of him pushing into that perfect spot.
You learn forward and start to grind on him, feeling his hands on your ass, kneading and giving you a little slap as you start to kiss his neck, licking up his sweat and leaving a trail of saliva after your lips. The way your clit grinds into his pelvis sends a shudder through you, and you clench as you wind your hips on him, feeling yourself get closer every second. “Joel, I- I’m gonna come” you whisper, and he genuinely sounds shocked between his groans and grunts, “Already?”. Mhm, you whimper as you start to come, fluttering and pulsating around him as you hear a long, drawn out, whispered, fuck.
He somehow gets even deeper after, and the walls of your pussy massage every inch of his throbbing cock as you ride him, moaning and cursing and repeating his name until you hear him, scolding in an unserious tone. “Quiet down, girl, Christ,” he says and holds your hips still, “Do you want this to last more than ten seconds?”. You giggle and start to scratch his upper back, making him lean his head back as he groans, deep in his chest. “Man, that feels good,” he chuckles, “Sorry, just- just give me a minute”.
“Why?” you laugh, “Were you about to-”. He cuts you off quickly, “Just… Shhh”, and pauses his hands as they travel up your sides, “Stay still”. You continue to scratch his back, dragging your nails up his neck and into his hair, feeling as he tilts his head into your hand like a cat. He takes a deep breath, exhales through his mouth and looks at the ceiling before he speaks. “Sorry, baby”, he lets out a self-deprecating laugh as he rubs his forehead, “It’s been a while”. You can’t help but snort as you ask, “When did you last get some?”.
“I don’t know-”, he looks around and shakes his head. “Well, Sarah's mom had to be, like, fifteen years ago-” you say, stifling a laugh, and he cuts you off again to save his ego. “It hasn’t been that long, come on now,” he says, “How little do you think of me?”. You let out a devilish giggle as you let him in on a little secret, “I never get laid either”. He looks at you in disbelief, “You don't gotta lie to make me feel better”. Your nails stop dragging along his neck and you act horrified at his accusation, “Wow.. I can’t believe you're accusing me of dishonesty in.. Well, almost my own home, next to my own home”.
“Yeah?” he snarks, “When was the last time, huh?”. You look up, eyes shifting a little back and forth, “Fifteen months”. You hands fall to his shoulders as he grips onto your hips and starts to fuck you again, rocking you back and forth and reaching deep inside you. “You counted?” he asks, unfazed. You roll your eyes a little and try not to whimper at how he hits your g-spot so effortlessly, “Don’t make me feel w- worse about it, of course I c- counted… How about you?”.
He has the cockiest expression on his face, apparently having regained full control, now spreading his thighs a little, getting enough leverage to fuck up into you, faster this time, “Eh.. Year and a half, maybe? Might’ve been two years at this point”. Solid, you say, eyes half closed, your upper body swaying along with the rhythm of his thrusts. He chuckles a little, so flattered by how you unravel for him.
“Just like that, sweetheart, just like that” he coos, breathing heavily, “Does that feel good?”. You can’t even answer aside from a lazy nod of your head, too far gone and too cockdrunk to even think coherently. “I’ll make you feel even better, okay, baby?” he asks then, and flips you down onto your back while he kneels with one leg on the cushion and his other foot on the ground to stabilize, lifting you by your hips and starting to pound you, holding you with a steel grip and watching as your tits bounce on your chest.
You open your eyes to look at him, his brows furrowed as he studies your body, the muscles of his arms bulging out of his skin, his hands around your thighs holding you open for him, and the glisten of your arousal coating the thick hair covering his groin. He clearly had no plans of getting laid tonight, or any time in the near future, judging by the state of his pubic hair, but you don’t give a fuck.
All you want to do is dig your nose into it and inhale until your lungs cannot possibly fit anymore of his pheromone filled musk within them, until you’re dizzy and delirious and high on his scent. The thought drives you so far up the wall you push him away from you and come to kneel on the couch in front of him, taking his dick in your hand and dragging your tongue up along the crease between his thigh and groin, tasting his musky sweat and moaning at the way it makes you clench.
Then you move onto his hard cock, licking up all of your own slick while he looks down at you, growling when your tongue laps up the wetness smeared across his tip. He carefully places a hand on the back of your neck, careful not to push, and you look up at him, loving the feel of being trapped between his hand and his body, being at his mercy, being his to do with as he pleases.
You take him inside your mouth, let him slide in until the very tip meets the back of your tongue and the muscles in your throat work to fit the wide head of him there, massaging and tightening as he groans and curses above you, and your lungs are filled with the intoxicating, masculine scent of him, concentrated right at the base of his cock. Looking up to meet his eyes, you pull back until his tip rests on your tongue, licking the sensitive underside and tilting your head a little to the side - innocently, or deviously, you’re not quite sure how he takes it.
Your hand slides up from your thigh, all fingers wrapping around his shaft and starting to swivel up and down, and Joel taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, presumably holding back as his cock grows even harder, to the point of throbbing when you put your wet mouth on him again, sucking and licking the head, stroking him and reaching up to massage his balls with your free hand. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you hear then, strained and growled, “Shit, that’s good- oh, fuck, that’s good”.
If it weren’t for both of your hands being occupied with his thick cock and heavy balls at the moment, you would rub them together like a sneaky little mosquito, so pleased with him being completely under your spell and at your mercy now, yours to do with as you please. You release him from your mouth and let his dripping length slap against his skin as you turn around, leaning onto the backrest of the couch, looking back at him and arching your back to spread your cheeks and show him how wet you are for him.
Jesus, he whispers, running a hand down his face, taking a second before he comes up to you, slides his hand down the curve of your waist and over your ass cheek, lands a firm slap to your skin, then positions himself at your entrance and shoves his cock in, pushing you into the back cushion and making you yelp when he hits your cervix, then starts fucking you from behind in even, deep strokes.
“The shit I wanna do to you,” he says, voice low and husky as he swats your ass again and watches it shake, “Now that I know how well you take it”. He massages the flesh on your hips firmly, kneading it and pulling you into him so your ass bounces off his hips and the recoil travels all the way up to your lower back, “God, I wanna come inside you so bad”. He grunts again, and you hear his heavy breaths amongst the sounds of his balls slapping against you.
“You can”, your voice is sweet, innocent, provoking in your invitation for him to unload inside your tight cunt. “Don't say that, baby, cause I'll do it” he grits through his teeth, his eyes laser focused on where he penetrates you, where he stretches you open and pounds into you. You giggle, clenching as hard as you can around him, gripping his cock like a fist and hearing him whimper. “Don't do that shit or you'll make me come” he says, sounding like he’s in pain, and you laugh a little again, devilishly, moaning his name.
“Fuck.. Do it again”, he mutters, then trembles and moans again when you tighten up, letting him take a break and thrust a few times before you do it, repeating the cycle again and again and again until he’s fucking you as fast as he can, and his breaths are heavy, laboured, nearing groans, with his mouth half open as he asks, “Where can I come, baby? Tell me, quick”.
You tighten again as you purr, “Let me feel how you come inside me, Joel, make me yours”, and he stills his hips, bends over and rests his head on your shoulder as his cock swells rhythmically, and he fills you until his spend starts running out, dripping down the inside of your thigh while he’s still inside you, kissing your damp shoulder blade.
“I think it’s best if you sleep over,” he says with false severity, “In case there are more spiders, you know? Can’t take the risk”.
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Summary: You run into your dad’s friend at a bar and get a little more than just a ride home.
Warnings: Smut, not outbreak AU, age gap (reader is 27, Joel is 55), brat taming, alcohol, oral (f receiving), rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dom/brat dynamics, edging, choking, unprotected PIV, daddy kink, spit kink, no use of y/n, size kink, reader has acrylics, mutual pining, masturbation (f), praise kink, mild degradation, angst, possessiveness.
A/N: This is based on my first ever oneshot, from back when I first started writing, which turned into a Joel x OFC series called Without a Warning. See endnotes!
Word count: 10k Rating: 18+
You find yourself at some dingy bar downtown that your friend invited you to, everyone gathering to celebrate a birthday that already passed three weeks ago. Trying your best not to look bored, counting down the time until it’s socially acceptable to leave, your eyes trail around the bar until you spot a pole on the other side of the room, mounted to the ceiling and the floor, a familiar sight after years of pole dancing classes.
You take one look at your friends and see that they’re at the level of intoxication needed to insist that you dance for them, somehow not having noticed this long, shiny piece of aluminum yet, but you’re not exactly in the mood to entertain, and figure it’s best to keep them looking in your direction. Unfortunately for you, though, you’re only successful for about ten seconds before Leo turns his head, spots it, turns back to you and raises an eyebrow. He purrs your name, saying you absolutely have to give them a show, and that they won’t let you leave until they’ve seen your moves.
Begrudgingly, you stand up while they holler at you, look around for a manager who might permanently ban you from the establishment, and eventually make your way up to this so called stage, taking a few steps around the pole in pure embarrassment and trying to brainstorm a routine, not drunk enough for this at all after babysitting one drink all night. You swing around slowly, waiting for a new song to come on the speakers.
When it does, you take a deep breath, say a little prayer and go for it, hearing your friends on the floor waiting in anticipation.
You pull a few easy moves, some body waves and basic spins, before you get a little bored and figure nobody is there to kick you out if you lose a layer. Hell, someone might even tip you at that point. Your eyes are fixated on your friends as you start to undo the buttons on your shirt, smirking as you see them clap and cheer, until your shirt is halfway down your chest and you suddenly hear the grating sound of loud, drunk, annoying men. Middle aged men at that, all gathered around a table with one in the middle, clearly the drunkest.
Tossing your shirt on the floor, you stand behind the pole and let your hands slide down, followed by your upper body, swaying your hips while you examine every guy at that table, trying to figure out why they’re celebrating the sweatiest, loudest member of the crew, memorizing their faces so you know who to avoid later. Your vision is fixated on one after the other, surveying them as you tilt your head side to side, letting your chest subtly slide up and down the cold steel, until you get to the last one, sitting at the very edge of the table, looking down with his hand on the back of his neck, seeming like he would prefer to be absolutely anywhere else in this moment.
It makes you want to laugh, and you try not to chuckle at this poor guy, probably dragged there by his friends or his brother or god knows who. You keep your eye on him while you take another swing around, ending up at the front of the pole with your arms up, leaning against it and sliding down just enough to not flash your panties under your skirt, winding your hips and stifling a smile, waiting for this mysterious, bored man to look at you.
It takes forever.
Eventually, though, he looks up, and you immediately make eye contact. Your eyes narrow a little, it can’t be, and you look at him a little more closely, there’s no way, starting to recognize those deep, chocolate brown eyes, the gray curls, the flannel, the broad shoulders and those huge hands. The little sliver of doubt you had left is immediately eliminated by his expression, which can only be described as pure mortification.
That is none other than Joel Miller, your dad’s coworker and close friend, who is no less than fifty fucking five years old, who you haven’t seen in a few months.
His eyes dart around, towards the exit, the bar, anywhere else but you, with your tits spilling out of your bra and your skirt barely covering your ass. He can’t watch this, he can’t even be here right now. He feels a bead of sweat already forming in his hairline, and sees his expression of shock mirrored in your face, trying to think fast, trying to decide how to handle this situation, how to get the fuck out of here without seeming suspicious, without seeming like he’s had an incredibly inappropriate little crush on you for a year that’s now coming to skin him alive, a crush he was planning on taking to the grave.
A crush, something so wildly juvenile, on his friend’s daughter of all people, only twenty seven, a solid twenty years too young for him on top of it all. He’s tried his best to forget about it, to forget about the way you looked at him when he helped you build a dresser the day you moved into your new apartment last year, to forget about how he looked at you, how his eyes fixated on your ass, your hips, your hair, your nails, your face, how the smell of your perfume went directly to his cock and made him fight a losing battle against his own better judgment when he retreated to his bedroom that night. He tried and tried to forget the way your eyes glazed over and your lips parted as you stared at his shoulders, at his neck, his lips, and you didn’t hear him ask you for the Allen key until he cleared his throat and repeated himself, before you snapped out of your apparent trance.
He sits completely still, looking mortified as ever, with one hand still on the back of his neck and the other on his knee, and you deliberate for a moment on what to do. You should get the hell out of here immediately, not even wait until the song is over, and pretend like it never happened. You should not show your bare ass and your tits to your dad’s friend, his coworker, who he has to see every day, a family friend at this point, your little sister’s best friend’s father. You should probably just move to another city and let him pretend it was all a fever dream and that you never existed in the first place.
But what you want, on the other hand? What you want to do is make him sweat as he sits there, make him watch you grind your ass up and down, wind your hips and slide your hands up and down the pole as if it’s his own dick you have between your palms. You want him to be reluctantly aroused as he sits there, want him to feel like a dirty old man watching you dance, want him to feel a little ashamed for not picking up and leaving the second he recognized you.
The choice is obvious, and you flash him a wide grin.
Gotcha, Mr. Miller.
You swing around to the front then, turning your head to look behind you while you dip your upper body down, letting your skirt slip up to reveal a little bit of cheek and the edge of your lacy, blue panties. Your eyes are fixated on Joel’s, and he sits completely still, frozen, almost looking like he’s angry somehow. Taunting, you grab the edge of your skirt and pull it up to show more skin, and his eye twitches, something inside of him becoming increasingly displeased with the morons to his side being able to see this. To see you, to see something he’s been fantasizing about but knew he should never see with his own eyes.
Suddenly, you watch him take a deep breath, sit up straight, adjust in his seat, lay his arm over the chair next to him, then look up and down your body before settling his eyes on yours and keeping them there. Figuring you have nothing to lose, you shake your ass, slide back up, slink down onto your knees, wind your hips and play with your hair as you look at him, and you love the feeling of his dark eyes on you, the knowledge of how dirty and wrong and inappropriate this whole thing is.
You’ve wanted to fuck him for some time, if you’re being honest with yourself, since you noticed the sheer size of his shoulders and the smell of his cologne up close. He’s always been handsome, kind to you, respectful, curious about your life and interested in what you have to say. In the five years you've known him, you’ve only been alone with him once and, since that day a year ago, you’ve fantasized about him frequently.
After sitting in your bedroom together, you were suddenly unable to ignore the sound of his smooth, deep voice, the way his muscles shift under his shirt, the crows feet by his beautiful eyes, his salt and pepper streaked curls - everything that makes him so painfully masculine and way too old for you. In the eyes of any rational person, that is. But to you, he’s just a challenge.
His expression is impossible to read as he watches you, with his brows furrowed and his chest slowly rising and falling. You don’t take your eyes off him for a second, quickly craning your neck when you turn your back to him, making sure he can tell that you’re mesmerized by him, that you’re dancing for him now, not for your friends, and not for fun, but for him, so he can see you and the way you move.
When the song ends, you collect your shirt and button it up as you head to the bar, avoiding the drunk guys you forgot even existed when you spotted Joel. You try to get the bartender’s attention to no avail, leaning over the counter and tapping your long nails on the wood as you wait, when you suddenly feel someone come up behind you, and see two large hands landing flat on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. There’s no doubt it’s him, the way he towers over you and the scent of his cologne giving him away, dark and musky and spicy. Delicious.
“Tryna get my attention?” he drawls, and you involuntarily bite your lip at the sound, roll your eyes back and shake your head subtly, finally being the closest you’ve ever been to him. You fight the urge to tilt your head back onto him, to grind your hips against his jeans and ask him if he wants to take you home. Instead, you turn around, lean back on your elbows, and look into his eyes innocently, with your brows knitted, as if you have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Everything alright? Need a ride home or somethin’?” he asks then, revealing a hint of genuine concern as his eyes scan your face. You let your lips form a wide smile, looking up at his hair, then his nose, his lips, and finally his eyes. “Everything’s great,” you answer, “What are you doing here, Mr. Miller?”. He huffs a laugh, shakes his head and looks around, taking his time to answer as his flannel clad biceps brush against your waist and he looks towards the bar behind you. “Coworker’s bachelor party” he says plainly as his eyes return to yours, flicking down to your neck for a second, and he feels an insatiable desire to sink his teeth into your skin, to lick up the side of your throat and trap you between himself and the hard surface until last call.
“Not having fun?” you purr, tilting your head and cocking an eyebrow as you give him a smile, glancing down at his lips for a long moment. You lift your hand, let your knuckles trace up his jaw before your nails drag down his beard and you hear the scratching sound of his thick facial hair against your acrylics filling the silence between you. “I’ll take you up on that ride home if you’re offering” you say then, letting your hand fall to his chest as you watch his jaw twitch.
“I mean, my friends are all drunk,” you say as you glance over to Leo and company, even more wasted than before, then look back at Joel. “And yours are.. Well-”, you grimace a little, and he nods with his closed, then releases you from the counter. His hand lands on the small of your back as he walks you through the crowd and out of the bar.
You’ve only ever sat in the back of his truck, usually crammed in there with your little sister, your mom, or his daughter, on your way to some sort of company event. This time, however, you sit up front, clicking through the radio stations as he navigates out of the parking garage and heads towards your house. The two of you listen to the music for a while, staying quiet, until he asks, “How’s the, uh- how’s that dresser holdin’ up?”.
You don’t respond immediately, and he feels a sudden need to fill the space, “The one I helped you build, when you were moving in last year”. You giggle, looking at him with doubt as you snark, “The one you built cause I'm useless with my hands, you mean?”, and he chuckles, “You said it, not me”.
“You know.. It’s kind of been acting up recently, one of the little wheels keeps jumping out of the track,” you say, ending your sentence on an upward tone as if you’re asking him a question, seeming incredibly confused at how a cheap dresser can somehow malfunction, “You don’t have a second to take a look at it, do you?”. He shrugs, sure, as he pulls into your neighborhood and looks for your house.
He knows you can just lift the drawer and set it back in its tracks, but he doesn’t tell you that. Instead, he parks his truck outside and follows you up to your apartment, hunches down in front of the dresser, in the room that’s fully decorated and lived in now, and takes a long moment to survey the issue before carefully readjusting the drawer. It’s probably not a good idea for him to be here right now, he knows that damn well, but he can't help himself.
You stand on the adjacent side of the dresser, leaning over and pushing your tits together with your hands laying out in front of you, right above where he’s facing, then watch him as he stands up and tells you to take a look to make sure you’re happy with the repair. Slowly, you withdraw your hands, sliding them towards you, then slip in between his body and the dresser.
Before he knows it, his palms are on the top of it, on either side of you, trapping you again. He should leave, right now, this whole thing having gone too far already, but he can’t stop looking at your eyes, at your plush lips. Maybe, he reasons, if you initiate, it’s okay. If he doesn’t make a single move, if he just doesn’t resist, maybe even pushes back a little just to show you in some way that he knows this is fucked up and wrong, that he knows he’s too old for you and you’re too young and beautiful for him, too good for him.
“May I help you?” he asks dryly, desperately hoping his face doesn’t give away how hot he feels under his flannel, that you can’t feel his hardening cock through his jeans as he stands there with his crotch touching your stomach. You look down at your shirt, stretching out a piece of the fabric. “Stain,” you sigh, “Can you help me take this off?”. He rolls his eyes at you, waiting for a moment before he says, “You managed just fine back at the bar, don’t need my help for that”.
And so you stand there, silently, for what has to be a full minute, looking at each other intensely, existing in some sort of strange tug of war where you both wait for the other person to give into the obvious pull between you, the attraction that has led him to right where he’s standing, and you between his arms as his large frame pushes you back into the dresser despite barely touching you.
You look down at his lips, gaze at them freely, then look at his neck as you tilt your head, at his shoulders, left then right. Your hand comes up again, slides around the back of his neck, and your nails scratch his skin, upward into his hairline. “What do I have to do to get you to fuck me?” you ask, looking back at his eyes and seeing his head tilt slightly from how you touch him, “Do I have to beg on my knees? Hmm? Need me to call you daddy?”. His eye twitches slightly at how you say the word, breathy and drawing out the first vowel, provoking.
Nothing is the answer. All you have to do is lay down, let him undress you and give you what he’s been wanting to give you for quite some time now. You barely even have to ask. But he’s frozen where he stands, a voice at the back of his mind telling him to leave and another telling him to stay, stuck in between, knowing there's a limit to how much he can recover if he retreats now, a limit already crossed.
“Look, Joel,” you purr, reaching up to smooth your hands over the flannel on his chest, looking at it as you speak, “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind for the past year”. You look up at his eyes then, holding onto his collar. “My dad might have told you I had a boyfriend for a while, named Connor?”, your eyes trace up and down his face, trying to gauge if your father has mentioned this young man to Joel at any point, “Well, every time he fucked me, I closed my eyes and pretended it was you”. You watch him swallow, his eyes narrowing.
It takes every ounce of his determination and resolve to keep his hands on the edge of the dresser, his knuckles about to tear through his skin from the tight grip. If only you knew how many times you’ve slipped into his mind when he’s been with other women, when he’s fucked his fist late at night promising himself that it’s the last time he thinks about you, just like the night after he built that goddamn piece of furniture and told himself he would only indulge that one time, with the memory of your ass in those tight sweatpants fresh in his mind.
“Honestly, I-” your voice takes on a playful tone as you let your hand slide down his chest, over his stomach, pulling up his shirt to land your fingers on his belt buckle, “I’m getting a little turned on just thinking about your cock inside me, about you fucking me right here, or in my bed, wherever you want”. You slip your fingertips beneath the edge of his jeans then, tracing your nail back and forth along his skin, burning hot from your proximity. “Every time I touch myself, I think about you bending me over my kitchen counter and choking me out while you fuck me, making me look at those gorgeous brown eyes”.
“And you know what, Joel?”, your fingers dip even further down and feel the thick, trimmed hair covering his groin, brushing against it, “I know you would make me feel so good, wouldn’t you? Something tells me you know very well how to treat a woman". You flash him a smile before leaning in, stretching up on your toes to kiss the underside of his scruffy jaw, feeling it tensing under your lips as you hear a low, barely audible growl in his throat, “Southern gentleman you are and everything”. Your fingertips carefully tease up and down his shaft, feeling how hard he is already, how his blood pumps through the veins bulging out around his length.
With his hands still on the dresser, you pull off your shirt, then your skirt, and put your arms around his neck, reaching up to pull his face into your neck so he can smell your perfume, letting out a nearly inaudible little moan when you feel his scruff tickling your skin.
You place your hands flat on his chest and push against him, walking him all the way to the edge of your bed until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and you paw at him to sit down. He leans back on his hands, splayed out over your duvet, and watches as you take a few steps back, reaching the dresser and leaning against it with your elbows resting on the surface. There’s no turning back now, to hell with it, and he lets his eyes rove over your body, finally seeing what he’s been imagining all this time, what has been hidden under that tank top and those sweatpants he couldn’t get out of his mind.
Tracing your fingers up and down the front of your hip and thigh, you turn your head to look at yourself in the mirror, letting Joel get a good, solid look at you in your blue lingerie set. “What did you think about my moves up there?” you ask, looking at yourself one last time before turning your face to the ceiling and letting your head fall back as you await his opinion. “You’re, uh..”, he clears his throat, “A very talented young woman”. You snort a little as you tilt your face back down to gaze at him, thanks.
Then you take a few steps towards him, stopping to place your hands on his knees and bend forward, with your cleavage nearly in his face before you trace your nose up the side of his neck, breathing in his cologne, and he feels your breath on his neck, your lips curving into a smile as you place a kiss right at the hinge of his jaw, followed by a lick, before you pull back.
He carefully takes both of your hands and places them on his shoulders, wraps his own around the back of your knees to pull you in between his legs and then hooks his middle fingers into the straps of your panties, slowly pulling them down and waiting for you to step out of them.
You look down at him, at his broad shoulders, the curve of his nose, his thick, gray curls, and listen to the sounds of his breathing, that unmistakable middle aged man breathing, the groans and stifled huffs as he bends down, pulls your panties off your ankles and stuff the lace into his back pocket, you’re not gonna need these. His hands come to the back of your thighs then, pulling you onto his lap in one swift movement, then slides them up over your ass, your hips, and then up your back, pausing to undo the clasps of your bra and carefully slide it down your arms before tossing it aside.
“What do you want me to do?” you purr, twisting your fingers in his hair with one hand and leaning back on the other, presenting your naked torso to him, your nipples hardening in the breeze from the window, little goosebumps spreading across the fullness of your breasts. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples as he looks down at your sex, spread open by the breadth of his thighs, and the open space right below you that would perfectly fit his hand. He sees how your clit swells with arousal as he rubs circles on your nipples, and your folds glisten, wetness already seeping out from his gentle touch. “Touch yourself” he says, low and husky, thinking that maybe if you make yourself come, he won’t get a taste and will still stand a chance at walking out of here unscathed, reeling himself back in for just a second.
You give him a condescending smile, run your fingers through his hair and place your hand on his cheek, carefully running your thumb along his bottom lip as you say, “If that’s what I wanted to do, I wouldn’t have brought you all the way over here, would I, Joel?”. He hums, seeming a little amused and gently grabs your wrists, then tightens his grip as his eyes darken. “Don’t be bratty now, sweetheart,” he hisses, “Open your mouth”. His other hand comes up to your jaw and he digs his fingers into your skin as you present him with your tongue, and you feel his hot saliva hit the back of your throat while he stares at you. You close your mouth and swallow, batting your lashes at him and stifling a smirk.
“Is that sufficient, you little tease?” he asks condescendingly, “You gonna do what I tell you to now?”. You nod, yes, daddy, and he guides your hand to your core. “And what did I tell you to do?” he asks, feeling his erection painfully pushing against the stiff fabric, desperately trying not to visualize taking it out and letting you sink down on his cock, fighting for his life not to picture how you’d stretch your spine and lean back into his hands as you ride him. “Touch myself?” you ask innocently, and he nods once as you place two fingers on your clit and start rubbing.
His one hand comes up to your nipple, and the other wraps around your neck, as he watches you rub slow circles over your swollen nub, your hips starting to wind gently and a whimper escaping your mouth as you lengthen your throat and arch your back. “See how good you feel when you do as I say?” he coos, rubbing your nipple more firmly now and moving his thumb to tilt your chin upwards. Your eyes flick down at him, at the obscene bulge in his jeans, and you want his cock so badly, the emptiness inside you becoming a distraction as you try to make yourself come.
“It’s not enough” you say with a defeated sigh, removing your hand. He clicks his tongue, “It’s all you're gonna get”, and you scowl at him as you reach forward and start to fumble with his belt before he swats your hand away, “Don’t get greedy on me now, girl”. You roll your eyes, “I wouldn’t have to be greedy, old man, if you just got on with what you clearly want to do”. He mirrors your fake smile again, lowering his tone, “And what exactly do I want to do, sweetheart?”. Peeling his hand off your throat, you bring it down to that space between his thighs and let his knuckles brush along your folds. “This” you say as you slide your hand under his fingers, allowing the very tip of his middle finger to catch at your opening.
His eyebrows raise, “You mean this?”, and he turns his wrist to slide a single thick finger into you, pulling back to add another and stretch you open as he pushes in, rubbing along your fleshy walls to find your sweet spot, knowing he found just the right angle when you let out a desperate moan. His cock jumps, starting to throb and ache, as he denies himself the relief he knows you’d give him if he allowed you to get on your knees. “Needy little thing” he snarks, beginning to rub his thumb over your clit and curling his fingers into your most sensitive, spongy spot, with his other hand on the meat of your ass while you play with your own nipples.
He could come at the fucking sight, and he focuses intensely on you in a feeble attempt to ignore how much he needs to get rid of his own clothes and take you right here on this bed. He needs to sink his cock into you, needs to feel how you tighten around his dick just as you do around his fingers, needs to taste you, needs to taste his own come on your tongue. But he really, really shouldn’t do that. If it was gonna go this far, he should’ve brought a condom, at the very least, even though he has no desire to use one with you, much rather preferring to fill you and mark you as his own.
You start to get close as he speeds up, keeping his gaze fixated on your face and reading your every little expression change, switching up the pace and working you close to your edge. He lets go of your asscheek and softly cups your jaw, sweeps his thumb over your wet bottom lip and looks into your eyes. “You’re about to come, aren’t you?”, he asks, and you nod dumbly, letting out a high pitched little whine, “Yeah, I know”. His voice is soothing as he speaks, and just as you say right there, Joel, right there, he retracts his hand.
“Nah, you’re not coming until I tell you to,” he scolds, shaking his head as he sighs, “Too used to getting what you want, little princess”. Your eye twitches as you look at him, panting and horny and irritated. He’s still fully clothed, and you’re on his lap completely naked, dripping and exposed. “What am I supposed to do with you, huh?”. Oh, he’s playful now. “Let me come?” you suggest sweetly, as if you’re not about to try to strangle him into some sort of submission, as if he would ever even let you.
“Nah,” he says again, clicking his tongue, “I’m taking my time with you”, and he lifts you up, flips you onto your back, and manhandles you to the edge of the bed as he sinks down onto his knees, he’s gonna feel this in the morning for sure, and starts to kiss your outer folds, nipping at them with his teeth as your hand lands in his hair and starts to lightly tug. He stares at your pussy, he can’t help it, too tight and wet for him, too fucking irresistible for an old man like him.
He’s wanted to do this for so, so long, has wanted to kiss and lick and suck and bite every part of your body until you’re nothing but a wet puddle of a woman in his hands, and then he’s wanted to fuck you until you can’t stand up, until you chant his name like it’s the only word you know, and you’ll never forget how it felt to have the heavy weight of his cock inside you. There’s a sick, twisted little side of him that relishes in the idea of having you as his secret, his rendezvous that no one can know about, that even likes the danger that comes with doing this, with being in your bedroom and having you naked under him, his to do with as he pleases. He wonders what it’ll be like when he shows up at work on Monday and you dad has no fucking idea what’s going on. He wonders what it’ll be like when you inevitably end up at the same dinner table again, knowing the two of you have had sex, hopefully more than once, if he gets to choose. Now that one room is up in flames, he might as well burn the entire house down while he’s at it.
His wet kisses move from your folds to your clit, and he feels you jerking at the sensation, trying to push up and into his mouth before he puts his hand on your lower stomach and anchors you down. “Now what did I say about being greedy?” he scolds, tsk tsk, “We had a good thing goin’ here, no?”. He can see you roll your eyes, and notices your rapid breaths. He wants you to enjoy this, wants you to relax and let him make you come as many times as you possibly can tonight. “Relax, baby”, he says softly, rubbing his palm in big circles over your skin “Take a deep breath for me, okay?”.
He senses your resistance for a moment, then watches your chest expand as you take a deep breath, exhaling just as slowly. “Yeah, good girl, one more”, you take another breath, and then another, feeling yourself relax more as his warm palm soothes your skin and his tongue makes contact with your clit, carefully licking it to gauge how sensitive you are, and your broken moan tells him that he’s free to do as he wishes, to eat you gently, slowly, to take his time with this soft little cunt, to bring you to your orgasm as he sees fit. You look so good from this angle, spread out for him and dripping with arousal, and he spreads your legs wider, stretching one out, laying it down, and hooking the other over his shoulder.
Then he gives you a few more careful licks, watching your reaction and reveling in how you arch your back for him, how you tug at his hair and claw at your sheets. Stop teasing, he barely hears you plea, but he chuckles, not gonna happen, and continues to drag his tongue through your folds, over your clit, suckling gently, moving down to suckle at your folds, while you accept his mild torture with non stop whining and whimpering, trying to push against his large palm to get closer to him.
His hand comes down, his thick middle and ring fingers finding your entrance, slowly sinking in while he watches your eyes widen. “More, please” you beg as if your life depends on it, but he doesn’t budge, slowly sliding his fingers in and out, curling them into your flesh, eating you like he has all the time in the world. He’s too good at this and he enjoys it too much, closing his eyes and slipping his hand under your ass to massage your cheek, humming in acknowledgement when you buck your hips and start to ride his tongue.
He loves the way you taste, loves the way you squirm and moan his name, the way you push your mound into him, knowing what you like and taking it. He loves taking his time, especially with someone like you, someone so wet and needy for him, so open and ready for him to devour for as long as he wants. There’s a selfish urge rising in him to make sure he’s ruined you for any other man who tries to give you what only he can, any little twerp your own age who hasn’t spent the last thirty years, and then some, learning how to use his tongue to make a woman unravel under his touch. He doesn’t even feel bad for it, doesn’t mind at all, actually, the thought of no other man making you come ever again. Aside from himself.
“You wanna come for me, sweetheart?” he asks softly, lifting up from your aching, wet pussy, still rubbing the tips of his fingers right where you need him, “Will you let me make you come?”. “Please”, your voice no louder than a high pitched whimper, in disbelief he has the nerve to even ask a question. Alright, baby is the last thing you hear before he dives in, sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks his tongue at it, rubbing his saliva into your sensitive skin and pushing his fingers as deep as he can, only detaching his lips from you for a few seconds here and there so you can miss the feeling of him on you, before licking you again and he feels your legs tensing as you get close.
A strange feeling creeps up on you, of discomfort and anxiety, as you look down at your naked self, and then at him, still donning his flannel shirt and jeans, what you usually see him in at this time of year. He could leave at any point, knowing how you look naked, how you sound when you come, how your insides feel, and yet you’ve barely even touched him. He knows what you like now, what makes you come, how you dirty talk, how you touch and kiss and scratch. You still know nothing about him, other than that he clearly enjoys eating pussy, that he doesn’t seem to mind being teased into oblivion, provoked and taunted and messed with. Fuck, you don’t even know the actual size of his dick and he already knows what every inch of you looks like. The power dynamic is completely off, as if it wasn’t already, having a man close to thirty years your senior lapping at your pussy while he’s fully dressed and you’re falling apart at the seams right in front of him.
Your sense of unease and the feeling of your orgasm creeping up from the very base of your spine exacerbate each other as you try to to resist both from plunging you under completely, but your attempts to think about something else fall flat as he sucks on your clit and rubs firmly into your g-spot. “No, no, no, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come” you sob, as you near the brink, covering your face with your hands and squirming as you drench the cuff of his shirt, the lower half of his face, and he groans into you, licks and sucks you through it, works you with his fingers and doesn’t let up until you dig your foot into his shoulder and push him off. You hear a rumbling, satisfied chuckle as he wipes his face with his hand.
He stands up with a groan, sweat staining the underarms of his flannel, your come staining the sleeve, and you see a small, dark spot in his jeans right where his tip pushes into the fabric. “Is that enough for you?” he asks, brushing his fingertips up and down your slit, still pulsing, as you lay with your legs spread and arms above your head. If he has any chance left at getting out of here without having to face your dad on Monday knowing he fucked the man's daughter, this is it. But he stands still as you lay there on your elbows, looking up at him, presenting your naked body to him again, his to take and do with as he pleases.
Of course it’s not enough, and if you’re going to be this exposed, this vulnerable, he’s gonna have some fucking stake in this too. You’re gonna know exactly how he feels inside you, what makes him come, what he sounds like. He is not coming out of this unscathed, scot free, or able to claim that you were the sole instigator of this. So you look at him, lick your lips, tilt your head, look down at your own body before looking up at him, and say, in the most breathy, alluring voice you can manage, “You know you can do anything to me, right, Joel?”.
The last thread of his resolve snaps, and he lets go of any willpower he might’ve held onto over the course of the night, getting lightheaded as his cock throbs in his pants and he can’t take it anymore. He needs to be inside you. Now. Fuck, he whispers, and then, “Yeah.. I know”. You sit up as you smirk and start to undo his belt, and he pushes your hair back over your shoulder while he watches in silence as you unzip his pants, hears your soft little satisfied whimper when you tug his jeans down his thighs and you see the sheer size of his bulge as it stretches his boxers, the thin fabric getting strained by his erection and his thighs.
He shucks them off as you raise up on your knees and start to unbutton his flannel, slowly, getting down to the halfway point when his hand wraps around the base of your skull, his thumb and pinky reaching the edges of your jaw, tilting your head back, and he leans down to press his lips against yours, paralyzing you for a moment as his tongue sweeps into your mouth and you whimper at the feeling. A switch flips in him and he quickly undoes the rest of the buttons while you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, and he discards his shirt quickly before sliding his hands under your armpits and tossing you higher up on the bed.
You spread your legs to make space for him to lay on top of you, trapping you under his massive frame and grinding his throbbing erection into you. His kisses are ravenous, hot, wet, and move from your lips to your neck to your chest, before he stops momentarily, hooking his thumb into his waistband. “You promise to be a good girl for me and do as I say if I take these off?” he asks sternly, somehow containing himself a little after manhandling you under him and stretching your hips open more than you thought possible, so he could attempt to fuck you through his last piece of clothing.
“Yes, yes, I promise”, and he slides them off, tossing them off the bed, kneeling between your legs again, resting one hand on the side of your waist as you raise up on your elbows to see what he’s been hiding this whole time. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, so wide and long, so perfect looking, with evenly distributed veins along his shaft, and a wet, flushed tip. You can’t possibly help yourself, and you reach out to grab it, hearing him softly grunt as you thumb the drop of precome over his head and start to jerk him, watching his eyes close as you slowly stroke. You give him a few long strokes, listen to his pained breaths, “Fuck, that feels good”, and see more glossy white precome starting to drool out from the slit, which you smear over your palm and down his shaft.
You sit up straighter and lean over, stick your tongue out and drag it across his tip before you hear him grit through his teeth, “Don’t do that”. Pausing to look up, you see that his eyes are still closed. “I’ll last about two seconds if you do that and I’m nowhere near done with you” he says, then grabs your hips and flips you onto your hands and knees. I gotta fuck you, he mutters under his breath, sweeping your hair across your shoulder blades, running his hand down along your waist, your hip, landing on your ass cheek and giving it a slap that echoes in the room before he grabs your flesh, leaning down to press a few kisses to your spine.
“Rub your clit, honey,” he murmurs into your skin, “Need you real wet for me, alright? So I can fuck you how I want”. You do as he says, bringing your hand between your legs and touching yourself while he gives himself a few strokes, squeezing your ass as he grunts, before spreading you open and starting to push inside. He gently presses into your spine to deepen the arch in your back, trying to fit the thick head of him into your tight opening. It burns slightly as it stretches you, and you hear him growl, Jesus Christ, then he spits onto your exposed pussy, smears his saliva into your skin and teases your opening before sliding in again, more gently this time.
It would be much easier to enter you if he were to kneel between your legs, kiss your neck or look into your eyes, then gently guide his cock into you, but it’s too much, too close, and a sliver of shame holds him back, the sneaking around behind his friend’s back and the knowledge that he’s playing with fire, aware that the last thing he could possibly need at this point is to feel like what you share is something real, something deep, something intimate.
He slowly slides deeper and deeper into you, his eyes fixated on your body, the curves of your waist and hips, knowing that this should never have fucking happened, that he should not feel the way he does about you. But if he’s gonna do something so fucked up and immoral and wrong, he’s gonna do it right.
“This tight little cunt, so fuckin’ wet” he mutters, wrapping both hands around your hips and slamming you back onto his length, brutally hitting your g-spot with every entry and forcing moans out of you alongside all the air in your lungs, every single thrust wrecking you more and more. You try to force out his name, but he shushes you gently, telling you to relax, to just take it, baby, that’s it, as he watches the recoil in your ass every time you hit his pelvis, and feels how you tighten and clench around him, nearing your climax. “It's yours, daddy, all yours” you mewl, exhausting your wrist trying to make yourself come.
He bends over then, swats your hand away and starts to rub your clit with the much larger pads of his own fingers, nosing your back as he whispers, come for me, and it pushes you over the edge, starting to spasm in his grasp and clench around his dick so hard he growls. His thrusts deepen, his hands return to your waist, and he fucks you hard and fast, grunting, growling your name, then asking, fully aware you are in no position to enunciate anything but daddy or Joel right now, “You like that, princess?”.
“Oh, I know you like that” he drawls, his voice suddenly lower, sweeter, as he slows down and retracts almost fully, leaving only his tip inside you, gliding back in again and grinding when he hits the end of you, watching your chest and face sink deeper into the pillows as you soften in his hands, letting him fuck you exactly how he wants.
You gasp when he pulls out of you suddenly, hear him snap his fingers, telling you to turn around, and you shift onto your back with limbs that feel like jello. He slides his hands under your thighs and lifts you up, groaning as he stands again, gettin’ too old for this shit, making you giggle as he places you on the dresser and his hands are on either side of your ass while he kisses you feverishly, licking deep into your mouth, and then he wraps them around your thighs to pull you close to the edge.
He holds your legs up as he bends down and licks a broad stripe up your folds, shoves his tongue into your and laps at your slit again, smearing his saliva over your entire sex before raising up and guiding his cock back to your opening, sliding into you with a sigh and pushing his palm into your sternum, urging you down on your back. He puts your ankles on his shoulders and you can see him shudder as he reaches deep into you, your moans making him furrow his brows and start to breathe heavily, his eyes closing as he fucks you.
“Just like that,” he whispers, sighing and groaning, slowly thrusting as his eyes stay closed, “So good, baby, so good, fuck”. You get an inclination that he’s spacing out, and go silent to see if he’ll notice. Some time goes by, with Joel still hitting the most sensitive spot inside you, making you bite your lip to stifle your moans as you watch him. His hands are splayed out on the front of your thighs and his mouth is hanging half open, his hips moving while he stands still.
“Joel?” you say, breaking the silence, but he doesn’t open his eyes. “What, honey?” he breathes, grunting as he pounds into you, wrapping an arm around you so he can hold around your hip with one hand. “Are you even here right now?” you ask, snarkier than intended, and he pauses, opens his eyes and looks at you quizzically. “Yes?” he retorts, brows knitted in somewhat of a scowl. “You’re being so weird, what are you thinking about?” you ask then, getting up on your elbows again to look at him straight. “Nothing” he says dismissively, and starts to thrust again. “What do you mean nothing?”.
He rolls his eyes, “I mean nothing, girl, leave it”. You roll your eyes back at him, a little annoyed now, “Do you think we’re gonna break the dresser?”. No. “Do I look weird from this angle or something?” you ask, needing to get to the bottom of this. “Of course not” he reassures, his tone a little softer. “Then what?”, you keep pushing, and he rolls his eyes again. “So many goddamn questions”, muttered, pulling you a little closer to him and leaning over you to deepen the angle, holding one of your legs at his side and keeping the other flush with his torso.
“Austin’s most mysterious, Joel Miller,” you snark, a condescendingly sing-songy quality to your tone as he looks at you, devoid of any amusement, “It’s the angle, isn’t it?”. He’s quiet for a moment, then leans over a little closer, looking at you with dark eyes. He takes a few breaths, as if he's preparing himself, then swallows, lowers his tone, and starts to speak. “I was thinkin’ about the day I was building this for you,” he say as his knuckles hit the dresser, “And you wouldn't stop gawking at me with those pretty eyes of yours, and all I could think about was laying you down on it like this and having my way with you. Does that answer your question?”. You freeze, your jaw dropping a little as you look at him in genuine shock. “Now will you shut that pretty little mouth and let me fuck you like I've wanted to, sweetheart?”.
You huff a laugh, “Don’t threaten me with a good time”, and lay back down, hooking your hands behind your knees and spreading yourself open for him. He shakes his head again, looks up at the ceiling and exhales forcefully. “Did anyone ever tell you that you're a little demon?” he asks with a hint of humor, slowly sliding in and out of you, placing his hand on your lower stomach and starting to rub your clit with his thumb. “Shoulda known you were trouble” he says as he looks between your eyes.
“Shoulda fucked me a long time ago, you mean” and you're interrupted by a string of moans as he rubs faster and your eyes roll back, “All those fucking company parties my dad dragged me to.. Dinners, anything, Joel.. Wishing you’d just take me home and fuck me”. His eyes narrow, and he licks the corner of his mouth as he seems deep in thought, looking at you as if he’s examining you somehow. “Tell me how long you’ve wanted me to fuck you” he says, as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. You giggle and tilt your head back, feeling every inch of him inside you and your orgasm approaching quickly, the head of his cock rubbing into your softest little spot and making you want to drench him again.
“Eyes up here, honey” he commands, landing a swat on the outside of your thigh to get your attention, “Answer me”. You giggle again, arch your back and smile, feeling devious. “Since the day you built this for me, silly,” you answer in the most innocent voice you can muster, “And I got so horny from watching you, from smelling your cologne and your sweat, from having your eyes on me”. His eyes glaze over as you speak, and he slips his hands under your ass to squeeze handfuls of you and pull you into him. “Fuck, Joel, when you left..”, you moan and spread yourself even further, tilting your hips up so he can get deeper, “I got on my bed right there, took off my pants and started touching myself.. I came so hard thinking about you, and then I did it again later that night, and the next day. I thought about you jerking yourself off and letting me suck your cock, you're just so hot”.
You hear a low growl in his chest, and he lifts you up again, carrying you over to the bed with his cock still sheathed inside you, and lays you down, kneeling between your legs, keeping them open with his weight stretching your hips. “Dirty fuckin’ girl” he hisses with a smirk, cocking an eyebrow as he wraps your legs around his waist, leaning down onto his elbows and starting to run his nose up the side of your neck, staying still as his lips reach the shell of your ear, “Knew you needed me to fuck you like this, baby, ain’t that right?”.
“That’s right, daddy” you coo, running your fingers through his hair as he pulls back to look at you, and you shove him into your face, pushing your tongue into his mouth and moaning when he hits a particularly sensitive spot again, starting to grind his pubic bone into your clit. Jesus, he mutters then, blinking a few times as if snapping out of some sort of trance while you look at him with wide eyes.
He grinds into you over and over and you start to dig your nails into his shoulders, pushing your heels into the base of his spine, whimpering into his mouth. “Good girl, come on,” he murmurs, husky and coaxing, “Come on my cock, baby, you can do it”. Every thrust makes your orgasm draw closer, building slowly in your spine and making its way up, climbing at a steady pace until his lips meet your neck, he licks it once, and then sinks teeth into you, and your entire torso suddenly tightens before you feel your pussy rhythmically clenching around him as you come, one more time, while he praises you, tells you that you’re doing so good for him, that you feel so good on him.
Unwrapping your legs from around himself, he grabs the back of your thighs and pushes your knees into your chest, putting you in a mating press and leaning over you to fuck you so deeply that your moans nearly turn to screams, making you dig your nails harder into his skin. “Where do you want me to come?” he pants, looking at you, and you can tell he’s holding back, about to unload inside you if you tighten up just a little more.
“Inside,” you say sweetly, “Can you put a baby in me, Joel? Please? I know you want to, you can’t hide it”. He grimaces a little, trying to stay back from the edge and process what you’re saying without letting it push him over. God, is he ever playing with fire now, but fuck, if it isn't genuinely tempting to get you pregnant, to claim you so primally, as if any evidence of tonight wouldn't be massively devastating for him and for you. He just can't help it, the idea of someone so sweet and beautiful like you carrying his baby is like a fever dream, and it makes him want to spill inside you, fuck it deeper, and keep it there for as long as he needs to to make sure it takes.
“Is that what you want, sweet girl?” he coos, tilting his head to look at you, almost mocking in his tone, “To be permanently attached to me like that?”. You moan as he pushes you into your mattress and you grab onto his thick forearms, writhing and squirming, with no way to escape his harsh thrusts. Yes, daddy, you want to say, knock me up and take care of me, make me yours, make me a mom, do anything you want to me. You don’t say a word, thinking you might well scare him off if you tell him how much you want to trap him.
“Have everyone seeing you”, his voice lowers, goes breathy and soft, “Knowing damn well this old man was the one who knocked you up?”. Yes, yes, please, please, you whine, tightening to stop him from even thinking about pulling out, wanting to feel him fill you up and then feel the slick of his come dripping out of you after, covering everything between your thighs. You want to lick it up from his cock after he pulls out, and take every drop he gives you. You want him to be the only thing in your head, and your body to be full of him in every way.
“Jesus,” he huffs, “You’ve got some issues, baby, you know that?”. You laugh, roll your eyes and wrap your hand around his throat, digging your nails into his skin, making him groan. “You love it,” you purr, “Just like you love fucking me, yeah?”. He bites the inside of his lip and you cock your eyebrow, smiling condescendingly again as you know you have him trapped and under your spell. “Don’t you love fucking my tight little pussy?”, you say, wanting to see just how far you can push him, and he counts down the seconds before he can’t hold it anymore and he has to come, “Cause I love taking your big cock, Joel, I’m gonna be so sore from you tomorrow, how you stretch me out, ah-hah, nobody feels like you”.
“No one has ever fucked me this deeply, daddy, you feel so good inside me”, you’re having too much fun watching his face contort, hearing him start to moan, for real now, deep, husky, rumbling moans that escape his lips as he pistons into you, unrelenting and brutal. “Come inside me, please, please”, you start to beg, whiny and a little bit pathetic, “I wanna belong to you, Mr. Miller, wanna be your dirty little fucking secret whenever you visit my parents, want you to fuck me in my old bedroom and on their dining table, wanna be your little slut”.
Fuck, he growls, then speeds up his thrusts to a level you never thought possible, and you soak his groin with a moan that sounds more like a sob, just before he stills inside you, as deep as he can, while his come spurts out from him and coats your cervix, fills the nonexistent space within you as he stays inside, and lets his head fall as he pants, trying to catch his breath while his cock continues to throb and pulsate, some of his spend starting to leak out between your asscheeks and slide down onto your sheet.
A year of seeing him at company events, at dinners with your parents, random run ins at their house and out in public, all culminating in this moment, when you’re full of him, bare and unprotected, wrong and dirty and fucked up, just how you wanted it.
He kisses your neck and face feverishly, fearing that this will be the last time he has you like this. He can't let go of you now, can't possibly have someone else do this to you, the thought making something inside him turn dark and feral, needing you for himself.
“So, um-”, you clear your throat and twist your finger into one of his damp curls, “Do you wanna pay for my plan B, since you didn't take me to dinner first?”. He lets his head fall as he huffs a laugh, and chews on the inside of his lip while he looks between your eyes, then nods with a tight lipped smile before he says, “Could I get you dinner too, though?”.
“You’re such an old man” you tease, dragging your nails through his hair. “And this old man fucks you dumb, so watch your words, little girl” he whispers into your neck.
-
Endnotes: There will not be a part 2 to this as I have already written and posted part 2-8 to the oneshot this was based on, several months ago, making up my completed series Without a Warning. That series is, however, written in 3rd person and does not reflect my most recent writing, so this is very different.
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As well as being one of rock’s greatest guitarists (and an incredibly nice guy to boot), Dr. Brian May also has a Ph.D in astrophysics, which he earned in 2007.
It took him a little longer than he’d probably hoped. But then, he had a pretty good excuse for delaying it!
I want to write a fic but it would be literally like an exact copy of a real even that happened in my life haha I don’t know if i should do it or not- thoughts??
Summary: While attempting to juggle your complicated family with your new friend John Deacon, things get complicated.
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, TW: Vomiting (not graphic)
Word Count: 4.9k
Author’s Note: Thanks to all my babes from the group chat who humour me as I write. You’re so inspirational.
This was originally - wait for it - 9k words. It’s been split, so sorry if it feels like an awkward place to make the split. Bear with me when I say things are about to get complicated. This bit is developing the reader’s backstory, next segment will be entirely John-focused.
Summary: As a bartender in an exclusive London strip club, you meet Queen’s bassist John Deacon. At a particularly lonely time in John’s life, he offers you an arrangement - companionship in exchange for financial compensation. Although John asks for only platonic conversation, you have a feeling this will become something more.
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content
Word Count: 4.3k
Author’s Note: Thanks to Tumblr users @crazy-little-cool-cat and @theglowissodivine for their input on the subject and content of this story! Fear not - the smut will come.
Inspired by John’s look from the One Vision music video, because holy hell, John at 34 was a looker.
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