[kikisficarchive]

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘨₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

[tteokdoroki]

itafushi x puppy hybrid reader 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

✩꒱ a helping paw ft. itadori & fushiguro .ᐟ

🏁 ꒰ ✩ smut ⋆ mdni ⋆ characters in their 20s ⋆ owner yuuji itadori, best friend megumi fushiguro & puppy hybrid fem!reader. scenting, cucking, voyeurism, daddy kink, dry humping. -> yuuji’s pretty puppy can’t help but get excited when megumi stops by. she loves to help when he gets excited too. good thing she doesn’t treat all visitors this way. only friends.

hold on a second because i moved i really did ;-;

yuuji with his excitable puppy girl who’s obsessed with the way megumi smells :( wags her little tail every time she sees him and licks his face even though yuuji keeps telling you to slow down you can’t!!! you love gumi you love when he stops by!!!! and he lets you clamber all over him, roll into his lap like it’s nothing when he visits and takes up your favourite spot on the couch. and whilst yuuji busies himself with lunch in the kitchen, your teeth at megumi’s neck your slick puppycunt already drooling over his groin as it hardens without subtly.

“you gotta get off, pup,” he says gruffly but his hands settle on your soft doughy hips — carefully pulling you back and forth over his hard on, your tail swishing low and slow. “can’t be doin’ this.”

“but i missed you, gumi… and you smell so nice.” you say and nip at his ear with your pretty canines — the tag of your collar ‘property of itadori’ cool against his collar bones because you’re pushing yourself further against him — trying to merge with fushiguro’s skin. “daddy says it’s good to help friends.”

the dark haired man grins slow, slimy as the expression oozes onto pink lips. he instinctively tips his head back to make room for your teeth that hungrily scrape his neck and your nose that inhales his scent like it’s some kind of drug. you wiggle against his lap, slicker and slicker over him by the second he’d think you were in heat. “yeah?” fushiguro sighs, syrupy and content. “daddy said it’s okay?”

“is what okay?”

yuuji appears in the living room, three glasses of cool iced tea captured between dexterous fingers. he sets them down a safe distance so your happy little tail doesn’t knock them over.

“look daddy, ‘m helpin’,” the way you blink over at him is slow, dazed as you ride fushiguro’s throbbing erection. you rock your hips as though guided by the motion of calm waters, washing over the man beneath you and drowning him in your essence like it is a reward. something to be cherished. if he didn’t know any better — he might mistake your pouty lips and glassy gaze as teasing. “bein’ a good friend.”

the pink haired man scratches behind your pointed puppy ears proudly, grinning as your hips involuntarily buck against his friend’s. megumi’s breathing cracks, fragile and almost whimpery and his palms come down to smack against your ass through frilly bloomers. “good girl, such a good girl. lift your hips, c’mon. lemme see…” he coos, voice a warm blend of honey and cinnamon — running through your system and glazing over that part in your brain which controls your pleasure. “you enjoyin’ helping megumi?”

“so much, feels good. see?” you raise yourself off of him, strings of heavy arousal tying your pussy and your tail to the outline of fushiguro’s dick. it wags obediently, the fluffy appendage now heavy and obscenely wet.

the scent of you curls in the summer air, stuffy and enticing. “keep going for me,” yuuji half groans, guttural and proud. “you make gumi cum like this and i promise you’ll get a reward.”

you like the sound of that, swivelling your hips in sinful circles and spreading your slick across the very obvious bulge beneath megumi’s sweats. his shaft sits comfortably between your clothed folds, nestled against your clit lovingly.

“f-fuck… fuck, puppy,” megumi exhales shallowly, breath cracking open with lust. from both being observed and used. “such a good girl for your daddy, huh?”

“isn’t she just perfect?” yuuji muses, sinking into the love seat across the way. legs spread, cock kicking to life at the sight of his two favourites absolutely ruined.

megumi nods dumbly, rose rouge blooming across his cheeks whilst he guides you back and forth on top of him, an orgasm crackling in the tension-thick air. “most perfect puppy ever,” he swallows.’“prettiest puppy and puppycunt ever.”

end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © TTEOKDOROKI 2020-26. all fanfics & layouts belong to me. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai, or recommend elsewhere.

[dynameow]

THEN AND NOW ✶ FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI

꒰ synopsis ꒱ ✶ katsuki always wondered what the hell his father saw in his old hag of a mother. it takes twenty years, a nasty fight with you, a near-death experience, and a trip to the hospital before he finally gets it

── ✶ word count: 5.8k words ; my drabbles always do this bro

── ✶ before you read: female reader ; pro hero bakugou ; established relationship ; arguing ; (temporary) relationship troubles ; injuries + villain attacks + hospitals (bakugou) ; tame angst with a happy ending! ; communication + resolving arguments ; bakugou’s father makes an appearance ; fluff and banter at the end ; masterlist.

꒰ commentary ꒱ ✶ at the end of the day i will never not be a sucker for the trope where u argue just before a major life threatening incident occurs

It’s 9:32 PM when Katsuki begrudgingly leaves his patrol area and finally calls it quits for the night.

Patrol was supposed to end an hour and thirty-two minutes ago, but he’s been dragging his feet ever since. Taking the long route. Responding to calls that technically aren’t under his jurisdiction. Circling blocks he’s already cleared twice. Anything to kill time. It’s only when Kirishima actively tells him to get the fuck out and stop interfering with his villain count for the night that Katsuki finally accepts defeat and ends his workday.

Ending his workday means going home. And if he goes home, you’ll be there. And if you’re there, he’ll be reminded of your nasty argument from the other night. And if he thinks about that argument, he’ll have to face the fact that the two of you are still stubbornly refusing to speak to one another until the other apologizes first. It’s a ridiculous standoff—an unnecessary one, and he knows it. But neither of you seems particularly interested in ending it, and now his own apartment has somehow become the last place he wants to be. Every room feels charged with an uncomfortable tension. The living room is awkward. The kitchen is unbearable. Even lying down beside you at night feels weird, so Katsuki would rather avoid the whole thing if he can help it.

If he gets home late enough, you’ll already be asleep. Then he can shower, crawl into bed, and pretend the situation doesn’t exist for a few more hours. It seemed like a solid plan in his mind, but unfortunately, thanks to fucking Shitty-Hair, he has no choice but to head home and hang up his costume. 

And judging by the lights still glowing through the windows of his apartment, his luck has officially run out. You’re still awake. Of course.

He trudges in, and there you are—sitting stiffly on the couch in the living room, staring directly at him with your arms crossed and an infuriated glare on your face as you fix him with narrowed eyes. Great.

“Do you have any fucking clue what time it is?” you hiss without missing a beat.

Katsuki should’ve known you’d start nagging the second he walked through the door. Hell, he should’ve turned around and just left the moment he saw the lights on instead of coming in.

“S’not even ten,” he grumbles, kicking his boots off. “Would you fuckin’ drop it—”

“You were supposed to be home almost two hours ago!” Your voice rings through the apartment, sharp and incredulous, and Katsuki is so tired. So exhausted. Too exhausted to deal with this nonsense right now, of all times.

“Yeah, well. Now I’m home. There you go.”

The dismissal only seems to make you angrier. Katsuki practically watches the steam start pouring from your ears as you shoot to your feet, hands planting firmly on your hips. And he just knows your voice is about to get louder.

“That’s it?” you practically screech. He fucking knew it. “You’re out on patrol for an extra two hours, and I hear nothing from you—not even a text saying, I’ll be home late. I’ve been sitting here like an idiot, wondering what the fuck happened, or if you’re okay, and all you can say is now you’re home? Do you just get off on being an asshole or something, Katsuki?”

His shoulders tense immediately as he fixes you with an equally hard glare. There goes his wish for a peaceful, conflict-avoidant night. Of course, as always, you have to drag the conflict right to him and drop it at his feet, spike his temper, and make it ruin his evening. A simple shower and a good night’s sleep was all he wanted. But things are never quite that easy—not with you.

Katsuki feels a dull throb start behind his eyes as he shoots back, “What, was your phone broken or some shit? What exactly held you at gunpoint and stopped you from sendin’ me a text and asking, huh?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

“I’m not laughin’, am I? Definitely no jokes here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you scowl, and he snorts. There’s no humor behind the sound, however.

“Yeah, that’s real mature.”

“Oh no—you don’t get to tell me about what’s mature and what isn’t. Cause if you wanna talk about what’s mature, it’s not disappearing for two hours and acting like I’m insane for being worried!”

“I wasn’t disappearing, I was fuckin’ doing my job.”

“You were supposed to be done with that job hours ago!”

“Well, I wasn’t!”

“You have a smart little answer for everything, don’t you, Katsuki?” you smile sarcastically, “just think you’re so smart and above it all, huh?”

Katsuki doesn’t know if it’s the headache that’s been creeping on him, or the rage, or the pure adrenaline in his system, but he does know that for a short, fleeting second, all he saw was red. 

“Holy fuck, do you ever listen to yourself?”

Your expression hardens instantly. “No, I think you should listen to yourself. You might hear an idiot if you do.”

The apartment goes quiet. Dangerously quiet. 

“You know what?” he says coldly, “forget this. I’m goin’ the fuck to sleep—I’ve dealt with enough bullshit tonight—”

You throw your hands in the air, exasperated. There is a flash of hurt on your face that makes his chest ache, but the sharp stab of pain doesn’t last for long because as quickly as his heart bleeds, his mind makes him forget. It only lets him focus on the anger and the irritation and the way you’ve ruined his night, just like you ruined the one before. 

“Every single time I tell you something bothers me, you act like it’s a personal attack, and then you just dismiss me like I don’t matter—”

“Maybe I wouldn’t dismiss shit if every conversation with you didn’t turn into a fuckin’ laundry list of grievances you got with me!”

“You only take everything I say as a complaint because you refuse to communicate!”

“Because not everything needs to be a damn discussion like we’re in therapy!”

“Right,” you laugh bitterly. “Silly me. God forbid I expect basic consideration from you.”

Something ugly flashes across his face. He knows it. Katsuki knows that when he’s mad, he turns ugly—he’s always been that way. It’s the only way he knows how to be. For the longest time, he thought you were the only person he could hide it from. That you were the only person he could fight the urge to get ugly from because you are just that special. 

But Katsuki is who he is, and he’s learned that he’s a special kind of ugly just for you.

“Basic consideration?” he barks. “You’re sayin’ I’m not considerate?”

“No, sometimes you fucking aren’t and—”

“Oh, that’s fuckin’ rich! I break my back every day keeping this city safe—”

“Well, if the city is the only thing you can be considerate for, why the fuck are you even here?”

It’s silent as soon as the words leave your mouth. Katsuki goes completely still. He can feel it the second it happens—the way his expression shuts down. The way the anger drains out of his face and leaves behind something colder. Something worse. Something so ugly, he has to get out of here before you see it and realize he isn’t worth it. Isn’t worth you. 

“Yeah,” His voice is flat. “Why am I here, right? You know, you can just tell me to leave next time, it’d be a lot fuckin’ easier for you.”

“Katsuki—”

“No.” He grabs the strap of his duffel bag that carries his guantlets from where he’d dropped it by the door, throwing it over his shoulder as he bends down to lace his boots up again.

“Katsuki, that’s not what I meant.”

“Sure.”

“I was angry—”

“Clearly, you’re always fuckin’ angry at me. I’m always doin’ something the fuck wrong, aren’t I? Nothin’ I do is enough?”

Stop, stop, stop. His mind is screaming, begging him not to do this. To get out. To leave and fight that hideous part of him down until he’s far enough that you never, ever have to see it.

“Katsuki, don’t do this right now—”

“Do what?” His voice rises more than it should. Stop—stop now. But he can’t. The ugliest of him is already taking surface and showing his truest of colors. “What exactly am I supposed to say here, huh?” You flinch. He needs to fucking stop, but he doesn’t. “Because apparently, when I stay late to save people, I’m an asshole. When I’m home, I’m an asshole. I breathe, I’m an asshole. I exist, I’m an asshole.”

“That’s not—”

“So what’s the answer?” His laugh is bitter and so, so cold that he doesn’t recognize this version of himself. Not with you. He wants to stop desperately, but he can’t. Because Katsuki is an ugly, hideous, despicable person deep down. No amount of heroism on the surface can hide that part of him that’s on the inside, not from you. “Since you’ve got everything figured out, you tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do.”

“Katsuki, let’s just sit down and—”

He shakes his head. For a second, he wants it to hurt. He wants it to hurt for you. Stop, stop, stop— “Y’know what? I’m done.”

His hand closes around the doorknob, and your voice comes out shaky and panicked as you whisper, “Katsuki, please just sit down and—”

“I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this shit anymore.”

Then he yanks the door open and walks right back out, slamming it hard enough behind him to rattle the picture frames on the wall.

────────────────────────

Katsuki is six when he first asks his father what the fuck the old man even sees in the hag that is his mother. He remembers the conversation vividly. 

“Dad, why did you marry Mom? She’s grumpy and old, and she yells all the time,” little Katsuki asks, crossing his tiny arms over his chest. “Why d’you even like her?”

Masaru nearly chokes on his tea. “Katsuki,” he coughs. “Your mother isn’t old. You shouldn’t say that—it’s rude.”

“But she is,” he huffs. “She smells like an old lady, too.”

“Well, if she’s old, then I’m even older,” Masaru points out, taking another sip. “So that can’t be a very good reason not to like her.”

“Well, she’s mean.”

“She’s not mean,” his father chuckles, thoroughly amused. 

No matter how many times he sees it, Katsuki doesn’t understand it—the way his father gets that dumb, starry-eyed look whenever Mitsuki comes up. She’s always in a bad mood, and if she isn’t, she’s probably due for one within the next thirty minutes. Why his father would choose to marry such a sour lady is completely beyond his six-year-old comprehension.

“She yelled at me this morning,” he sulks.

“You tried to use your explosions inside the house,” Masaru reminds him, leveling him with a pointed look. “We talked about that. Rules are rules for a reason, young man.”

Katsuki pouts harder. His father is supposed to take his side.

“But she still yelled. And it was mean,” he argues back stubbornly. Masaru only smiles into his tea, shaking his head with fond amusement. For a moment, neither of them speaks. Then Katsuki presses again, “So what do you even like about her?”

The question seems to catch Masaru off guard. He pauses, thinking. “Well,” he says slowly, “she’s funny.”

Katsuki blinks. His father cannot possibly be serious. “Mom?”

“Yes.”

“She’s funny?”

“Very.”

“No, she isn’t,” Katsuki says immediately, deeply offended by the blatant lie.

Masaru laughs, “She is.” Katsuki stares at him like he’s completely lost his mind. Masaru only smiles wider. “She’s honest, too. You always know what she’s thinking.”

“That’s because she says whatever she thinks.”

“Exactly.”

“And she says it loud.”

“That’s true.”

“She says it really loud, Dad.”

Masaru nods solemnly, sighing. “Also very true, son.”

“She should shut up,” Katsuki huffs. His father fixes him with a stern look at that, and he shrinks back just a little. 

“We do not say that about our mother, Katsuki.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but slumps deeper into his chair all the same. “Fine.”

“Your mother is wonderful,” his father says. “She works hard. She cares about people. She loves our family—she loves us. One day, you’ll see that. And when you do, I think you’ll appreciate her a lot more.”

Katsuki picks at the food on his plate, turning the words over in his head. 

His mother does love him—he knows that much, even if she is annoying. She remembers all the snacks he likes and somehow always comes home with them without him ever having to ask. Whenever he asks for money, she gives him more than he requested—even if it usually costs him an irritatingly painful pinch to the cheek. She wakes up early to bathe him despite complaining about losing sleep because he prefers morning baths to evening ones.

His mother loves him; he knows that to be true. But it’s only true because she is his mother, and he is her son. Mothers love their sons—it’s the rules. Why his father would willingly choose to love that woman remains completely incomprehensible, however, in his mind.

“Mom is super annoying,” he says bluntly.

Masaru’s smile softens. “I suppose sometimes she can be, yes.”

“See?” Katsuki perks up immediately, his entire face screaming, gotcha!

“But,” Masaru continues, “I’m sure I annoy her, too.”

Katsuki deflates on the spot. 

More than that, he simply cannot imagine such a thing being possible. His father is calm and nice and makes good food. Katsuki thinks lots of women would like his father—women who also would not find Masaru annoying. The only person allowed to find Masaru annoying is Katsuki himself, and that’s because his father makes rules that Katsuki has to follow. He thinks he’s earned that right.

His mother, however, has no such excuse.

“She gets annoyed with you?” he asks incredulously.

“Of course. Every day, I’m sure there’s something I do that annoys her at least a little.”

“Then why does she like you?”

Masaru thinks for a moment, carefully choosing his words, trying to explain this odd phenomenon that is love. “Because loving someone isn’t about finding a person who never annoys you,” he says finally. “It’s about finding someone who still sees your value even when you’re annoying. Someone who chooses you anyway. Does that make sense?”

His nose wrinkles immediately. “No.” His father stifles a chuckle when Katsuki adds, “That sounds dumb.”

“Maybe,” Masaru hums, eyeing him with bright, endeared eyes.

“I’m not gonna marry someone annoying when I’m all big. Because I’m smart!”

That earns him a full laugh from his father. It’s the kind of laugh that makes Masaru lean forward and wipe at the corner of his eye. In fact, he laughs so hard he nearly spills his tea. “You say that now,” his father says, setting his mug down, “but that’ll change. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“No, I won’t,” Katsuki grumbles. He doesn’t appreciate that he’s not being taken seriously.

“I think you will, son.”

“I definitely won’t.”

Masaru only smiles. He looks at Katsuki the way adults always do when they think he’s young and silly and doesn’t know what he’s talking about. And Katsuki hates that look. He’s smart—excellent, even. Just the other day, he caught his teacher’s mistake during subtraction when nobody else in his class noticed. At this rate, he’s well on his way to being smarter than most adults.

He absolutely knows what he’s talking about.

“Well, we’ll just have to see, Katsuki. If I’m right, you’ll take me out for ramen someday. Deal?”

“Fine,” Katsuki huffs, puffing out his chest confidently. “But you’ll never see that ramen.”

────────────────────────

Twenty years later, Katsuki sometimes wonders if he’s going to have to admit he was wrong and take the old man out for ramen after all.

You are, without question, the most annoying, irritating, vein-popping individual he has ever met. It’s like every decision you make is carefully calculated to inconvenience him specifically.

He has to keep an extra jacket in his car because you never check the weather before leaving the house. He has to double-check your grocery lists before you go shopping because if he doesn’t, you’ll somehow forget the one thing you actually need. He has to make sure you take your vitamins. Every night, he has to remind you to take your makeup off before bed because, apparently, that responsibility has become his problem—and if you wake up the next morning with mascara smeared under your eyes because you didn’t listen to him, then somehow you still find a way to blame him for not wiping it for you.

You are annoying. Every single fucking day, you annoy him. You annoyed him yesterday. You’ve annoyed him today. You’ll annoy him tomorrow. And he’ll tell you exactly that—he’ll call you a dumbass, and tell you to get your life together. Complain about the ridiculous thing you did this time, and accuse you of going out of your way to make his life harder on purpose. But after that, despite it all, he will still love you. 

Twenty years later, now that he’s older, Katsuki realizes he understands what his father meant. That loving someone doesn’t happen because they never annoyed him—loving someone happens because they annoyed him, and he still, despite that, sees nothing but the good.

He loves you. You are annoying and drive him up a wall, but Katsuki knows that you are good. The greatest good that there might ever be, and he might have just ruined it. He probably fucked it all up and lost all the good he had. All the good he’s ever wanted. All the good that he’s wanted to keep for the rest of his life and cherish.

The second the apartment door slams shut behind him, Katsuki regrets it. He regrets being the reason behind that look on your face. That brief flash of panic in your eyes right before he left. That way that your voice sounded when you said his name.

He can’t get it out of his head as he walks out of your building. “Fuck,” He runs a hand through his hair and keeps walking.

The only friends he’d willingly see right now are working, his parents are definitely sleeping (and would ask too many questions he doesn’t want to answer, even if they weren’t), and he is nowhere near calm enough to go back upstairs and just go home.

But his patrol route is still active. So instead of going home and into bed like a normal person who has morning patrol, Katsuki leaves his apartment building behind and heads toward work.

By the time he gets suited up again, it’s almost eleven. By the time it’s midnight, he’s still out. By the time it’s 1 AM, he should call it a night.

Instead, however, he keeps moving. One more block turns into one more street. Anything to keep himself from going home or thinking about the argument. About the way you looked at him. About the things he said. About the shit he ruined for sure.

His thoughts are loud enough in his head, turning him deaf to everything else. He misses things he normally wouldn’t—things like suspicious shadows and warning shouts from another hero.

By the time Katsuki realizes what’s happening for what it is, the villain goes down easily enough—too easily. He curses himself for being so naive, so rash. He’s been fighting as a pro for years. He was a war veteran before he was even a legal adult, for crying out loud. Still, despite all that, the second Katsuki realizes something is wrong, it’s already too late.

The construction site groans around him—metal screeches against metal, and his head snaps upward. All he sees is the upper half of the structure collapsing before he loses his balance and collapses with it. 

“Shit—”

The explosion leaves his palms a fraction of a second too late, and he doesn’t go propelling forward the way he’s supposed to. The half-built building comes down, and Katsuki goes down with it. 

Then everything goes dark.

────────────────────────

It’s 2 AM when you see it on the news. Kirishima sends you a text asking if you’d heard what happened, and by the time you’ve spammed him with messages asking what the hell he was even talking about, he’s gone silent. Something in your gut knows that he’s not answering because he’s too busy rescuing. Too busy being a hero.

Your heart tells you that the person he has to be a hero to tonight just so happens to be Katsuki.

The first report you see hits the news at 2:13 AM. The anchor’s voice is as smooth and polished as ever as she delivers the words that send your whole world crumbling around you. 

“We are receiving breaking reports of a major incident involving Pro Hero Dynamight.”

The footage that floods the screen makes you fall to your knees and muffle your sobs behind a shaky palm—collapsed concrete and emergency responders and heroes rushing in and out of the wreckage. The camera zooms toward the ruined construction site, and Katsuki’s body is nowhere to be seen on the screen. You don’t quite know if that’s a good thing or bad.

“Dynamight was reportedly responding to a villain incident when a structural collapse occurred. We are told he is trapped beneath the rubble. Emergency responders are currently on the scene, conducting rescue operations.”

At 2:37 AM, the hospital gives you a call as his emergency contact. You’re sick to your stomach, not sure how you’ll make the drive there when Kirishima finally texts you again.

Kiri <3: I already told his parents. They’re on their way so don’t worry about it Kiri <3: One of my sidekicks is outside your apartment. They’ll drive you down there Kiri <3: I still have to handle the aftermath and finish patrol so I won’t be there I’m sorry Kiri <3: Keep me updated?

You: Don’t apologize Kiri idk what I’d do without u You: Thank you and pls be safe You: I’ll lyk things as soon as I find out

Kiri <3: Take it easy okay? Kiri <3: He’s come back from worse. It’ll be alright

——

Kirishima’s sidekick gets you to the hospital efficiently, but you are still at your wits’ end by the time you can rush out of the passenger seat and bolt through the sliding doors.

Some part of you is grateful you didn’t have to drive here yourself because you know you would’ve sped dangerously over the limit, missed half the red lights, and probably would’ve gotten yourself pulled over. At the same time, you wish you could’ve been the one behind the wheel, just to get here faster.

“I’m here to see Kats—um, Dynamight,” you say in a rush. “Dynamight…I meant Dynamight.”

The woman at the front desk looks at you with a raised eyebrow, already typing away at her screen as she blandly says, “Valid ID, please.”

You curse under your breath, fumbling through your purse for your wallet, and then fumbling through your wallet for your ID like your hands suddenly don’t belong to your body anymore.

When you practically shove it toward her in your haste, she takes it too calmly for your racing heart and inspects it for a moment. Then looks at her screen. Then back to your ID. Then she types for what feels like an agonizing eternity before she finally hands the card back and says, “Fourth floor, room twelve. He’s stable, but he has some serious injuries that they’ll have to monitor and heal slowly due to his stamina—”

You’re already moving before she finishes. You’re bolting toward the elevators, heart slamming so hard it hurts. The ride up to the fourth floor is torturously slow. When you finally get out of the elevator, you’re halfway down the hallway before you even register the security guard stepping in front of you.

“ID.” Again. Of course. You suppose it is a good thing security is tight for the pro hero unit—even if it does add to your piling weight of anxiety. When you clumsily pull it yet again, he checks it for another cruelly long stretch of time, glancing between the card and the device in his hands before finally saying, “Go ahead.”

You’re already moving.

By the time you reach room twelve, your hands are shaking so badly you can barely hold yourself still. For a moment, you just stand there, frozen. Would Katsuki even want to see you? Is he fed up with you? Would you just make his already terrible night even worse?

You aren’t sure.

You don’t know why you’re in the predicament you’re in right now. You don’t know how you got here or why things escalated the way that they did. You don’t know what you do wrong to push his buttons the way you seem to, to upset him the way that he gets. You think you’re doing the right thing—that you’re doing what’s right for both of you—but somehow, you always seem to mess it up. Always seem to say the wrong thing. Always seem to ruin whatever good the two of you have managed to build between you.

But you love Katsuki, and if nothing else, you know that he loves you too, and you need to see him. So you force down the bile in your throat and push the door open. The first thing you notice when you see him is the bandages wrapped tightly around him. One arm heavily secured in a cast. Gauze lining his shoulder and collarbone that makes your stomach drop in a sick, immediate lurch. Machines hum quietly beside him, keeping track of his vitals.

You never see Katsuki hurt like this—he’s always been practically invincible when he’s on the field, always taking things down before they have a chance at even touching him. And then your brain, cruelly, supplies the thought: but he is not invincible. Not always.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, eyes already welling with tears.

He’s looking at you the second the door opens—but his tired eyes soften with relief, just a little, when they land on you. “You came,” he says, voice rough.

“Of course I came,” you say, sharper than you mean to. How could he think you wouldn’t? How far have you let things go that he could genuinely believe you wouldn’t show up for him? “What the hell happened?”

He sighs, almost embarrassed. “Just…work ‘n shit.”

You sniffle, and he lifts his good arm toward you. That’s all it takes. 

You’re at his side in an instant, squeezing into the small space beside him on the hospital bed and curling yourself against his chest. You’re careful not to disturb any of the machines surrounding him, but you can’t stop thinking about how wrong this feels. How you shouldn’t be the one being comforted right now. How he’s the one lying in a hospital bed, yet somehow he’s still the one rubbing your back and soothing your tears.

“I thought you were gonna die,” you sob. “I—I saw the rubble, and Kiri stopped texting back and...and I thought you got crushed.”

“M’not fuckin’ dying, babe,” he huffs, sounding mildly offended. “A stupid building isn’t killin’ me. That’s a dumbass way to go.”

“You don’t know that,” you shake your head. “You can’t promise that.”

“Listen—”

“And I was sitting there watching the news and thinking the last conversation I ever had with you was that stupid fight,” you continue, looking up at him with trembling lips.

His eyes soften. “I know, but—”

“And I don’t care about the argument anymore,” you say, your voice shaking harder now. “I don’t care about being right or winning or being apologized to first—I should’ve texted you, you’re right. You...you probably felt like I didn’t care, but I do. I care so much, and I love you more than anything.”

You take a breath that does absolutely nothing to steady you. Katsuki is trying to wipe your tears away with one weak arm.

“I love you too—”

“I just want you to talk to me,” you sob. “I know I’m annoying, and I nag and scold and get onto you all the time, and I’m trying not to do that as much—really, I am! But I just...I wish you’d tell me things, too. Y’know? I am the one person you’re supposed to do that with, Katsuki,” you add, your voice cracking all over again. “But sometimes, it feels like I’m the last person you want to do that with.”

His expression tightens. “That’s not—”

“And I want us to work because I’ve never liked someone so much—it stresses me out. Because I love you and I want this to work, and the thought of it not working makes me so anxious I wanna throw up, and...and you act like talking to me is harder than getting crushed under a fucking building—”

“Baby.” He squeezes your cheeks together and silences you as he pulls your face closer, pressing a kiss to your puckered lips. “You talk a lot, y’know that?”

You huff at him immediately, tears spilling down your cheeks even faster. “That is so rude, given the—”

“I’m sorry about the fight,” he interrupts. You pause, and he takes the opportunity to keep going, despite looking painfully uncomfortable the entire time. “And for...walkin’ out ‘n shit. That was fucked up. I don’t talk to you like I should. You’re right. S’weird for me, and I hate it sometimes. I don’t know how to just...say shit like you do. Okay?” He sighs. “But m’gonna try more because you’re right—I need to talk to you. But you gotta get outta your head so much—” He gives your forehead a small jab with his finger. You sniffle and swat his hand away with a watery scowl. It earns the faintest grin from him. “We’re gonna work,” he says. “’Cause we do. That’s all there is to it, okay?”

“But—”

“No buts,” he grumbles. “My ribs hurt. Jus’ let me be right.”

A watery laugh escapes you as you shake your head, cupping his bandaged face between your hands. “You’re really annoying sometimes, Katsuki.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “So are you. Still love you, though.”

“Me too,” you breathe, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “Love you so much.”

He pulls you back down against his chest again, rubbing your back as you listen to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. You trace small patterns into his shirt. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. And things are okay—they are not beyond repairing. You’ll inevitably annoy him tomorrow, and he’ll annoy you the day after that, but you’ll still work. You will still find a way to keep things good the way they always are.

After a few quiet moments, he mumbles, “Hey.” When you look up, he says, “When m’all healed and shit, you gotta force me to go grab ramen with my old man. On me.”

────────────────────────

Katsuki waits almost a month after being discharged from the hospital before he finally makes the call. He’s been trying to stall it for as long as possible, but Katsuki, even at the tender age of six, has always been a man (or boy) of his word. He’s standing alone on the balcony outside his apartment with his phone pressed to his ear, wondering if it’s too late to hang up before the call goes through.

It rings twice. Then his father’s voice is as gentle and cheery as ever. “Katsuki!” Masaru answers immediately. “Hi, son!”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey.”

His father laughs. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I got discharged, didn’t I? S’been a whole month.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sounding just like your usual self,” his father says. Katsuki can hear the smile in his voice. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’.”

“Katsuki, you never call for just nothing.”

He groans, rubbing a hand over his face with a sigh—it’s now or never. He can’t keep stalling, and Katsuki is, and always has been, a man of his word. If he promised his father ramen over a stupid bet he made twenty years ago, then he’s going to get his father that ramen. Even if it kills his pride. Demolishes it, even.

“Listen, I was thinkin’...maybe we could grab food sometime.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Masaru hums. “Let me ask your mother when she’s free and—”

“Not the hag. S’just you,” he cuts in, rubbing at his temple.

“Oh?” Masaru sounds amused. “Well, okay. I suppose it’d be nice to spend some time as just father and son. What kind of food?”

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose. Just say it. Just fuckin’ say it, his mind urges. Just rip the bandage off and say it. Say it. Say the damn word—he grits his teeth and forces out, “Ramen.”

There’s a pause on the other end. The silence stretches on long enough that Katsuki’s eye twitches.

“Ramen, huh?” Masaru finally says, and the way he says it makes a vein all but pop in Katsuki's forehead.

“Old man,” he says warningly, “don’t push it—”

He’s cut off when Masaru starts laughing. “I was wondering when this day would come.”

“Hah? You really kept that shit in your head for twenty years?”

“Of course I did. It was one of my favorite conversations I’ve ever had with you.”

“Why? ‘Cause you love bein’ fuckin’ right all the time?” Katsuki grumbles.

His father’s voice softens as he says fondly, “No. I just wanted you to find someone who made you as happy as your mother makes me. That’s all I wanted, son—for you to understand what being happy is like.”

The conversation is getting oddly sentimental, taking a turn that makes his chest feel strange, and his heart feel far too fragile. He hasn’t felt like this since after the war, and he doesn’t intend to sit with it any longer. So he mutters, “I still think Mom’s annoying. She yelled at me last week, so she never fuckin’ changes.”

Masaru laughs again. “No, she doesn’t.” Then, after a moment, “So, how does Saturday sound for some ramen?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“Will my son be paying?”

Katsuki regrets this call more than anything when he says, “Yes. I’m fuckin’ paying.”

“You know, son,” Masaru murmurs, making Katsuki pause, “I’m glad you get it now. You’ve grown into a fine man.”

Katsuki swallows hard. He turns, eyeing you as you sleep soundly in your shared bed, hugging his pillow to make up for his absence. He can only hope that his father’s words are true—that he is a fine man to you, the way his father always has been to his mother. His eyes never leave your figure as he mutters, “Yeah, well…s’not like I had a bad example or somethin’.”

so anyway i had an argument with my bf the other day but he did not get into an accident and he did not get injured so dont worry. the argument was technically my fault, but im cute and he loves me so its okay <3

[riotingdynamight]

Class Project ⤻ k.bakugo

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x OC

Series synopsis: class 2a & 3a have been paired together for their midterm projects, with 3a being their student mentors. Katsuki gets paired with Eijiro’s younger sister Yumi, but she is nothing like he remembers and now he’s not sure how to feel about her.

Content: not an x reader pairing, silent yearning(?), mature themes, characters are 18 yo, mention of the war, irritating grating bf/ex, mentions of rape

—will be updates as chapters are posted—

.01

[burningdevotion]

give me my sin again

dbf!Joel Miller x fem!reader

plot: the summer you first got together with Joel was also the summer you lost him - then, a year later, when youre back home from college again, you cant stay away, despite what he told you, despite reason, despite everything: you want him back. and lucky for you, he hasn’t moved on either, not one bit.

a/n: hi! this is not an original idea but I was in the mood to write some smut for him and tried to create my own version of the dbf premise! theres a good amount of plot, I went for a vibe that’s a mix of intense/erotic and emotional/soft (ca. 12k words)

warnings: big age gap (reader early 20s, Joel late 50s), smut, unprotected p in v, oral (r!receiving), blowjob, fingering, some p*ssy slapping, lots of praise/pet names (the man is whipped), multiple orgasms, coming inside, best described as "I missed you" sex <3

your involvement with Joel taught you one thing very early on in life: it is more bearable to yearn for what you can´t ever have, than to get it for a while, only to have it taken away again. 

Joel was your father’s longtime best friend and also happened to live just down the street of the house you grew up in. you´d always had a little crush on him, which was no shocking thing considering how handsome he was. your friends often gushed about him while you pretended you didn’t feel the same, even though you agreed with them when they called you lucky for having him around so often.

Joel wasn´t a man of many words but caring for his friend naturally meant caring for his daughter as well, so you could remember always feeling looked after by him, even when he never explicitly told you that he was fond of you, it was clear in his actions, the way he made sure that there was an extra pair of eyes on you at all times, just in case you needed help or comfort from someone older who wasn’t your parent.

his fatherly feelings slowly but surely turned into something else when you grew into a beautiful young woman, when other men in your neighborhood started looking at you for a little too long and he found himself wanting to gauge their eyes out.

to his relief, you went off to college before anything could happen, before he could obsess over you and give himself away somehow, invite you in without even realizing. then, during your first summer back home, Joel was hardly ever around due to a packed work schedule and a beach vacation he had taken together with his brother and sister-in-law, so you only saw each other a handful of times in passing, which made it impossible to get close, dangerously close, the way you would the coming year. the inevitable would happen sooner or later. some things can´t be stopped, only delayed. 

your second summer back from college was different. you were older, more experienced by then, more confident and secure in your body, your erotic appeal - Joel was off from work and spent that free time helping your dad renovate your childhood home, which meant that you saw him all the time, and to make matters worse, you saw him while he was breaking a sweat, his already tanned body only getting more bronzed each day, sleeves rolled up, muscles rippling from the strain of the tough work, the sun beating down on his brooding face, his achingly attractive physique, the damp fabric clinging to his chest in all the right, or wrong, ways, leaving you hot and bothered, not just from the humidity.

the weather gave you an excuse to be bold, audacious, to lay in the backyard in a skimpy bikini, sunglasses perched on your nose, fanning yourself with a thin book, watching him, catching him glance your way every now and then when your dad was inside the house, rubbing your legs with sun screen ever so slowly and smiling to yourself when you swore you could hear him curse under his breath. 

if you had to be confronted with his sex appeal all day long, then why should he not suffer the same fate? after that much time of having him appear in your dreams, haunting you, stirring your fantasies even while you were trying to date other guys, you were done playing it cool or pretending to be shy.

within no time, it became a little game between you two, daring the other one to look and then pretending not to notice when they did, your father blissfully unaware of the mating dance that was happening right in front of his nose. 

Joel nearly slammed a nail into his hand one time when you decided to turn around and lay on your stomach, bikini top undone to prevent tan lines, bikini bottoms barely covering your ass, your backside on full display as the sun made your skin glow, his jeans suddenly so tight that he had to excuse himself to go to your guest bathroom and help himself out as the images of you still burned behind his eyes, washing his hand clean of his sins afterwards. lord what he wouldn´t have given to just grab you and have your right there on that lawn, to show you what happens when a starving man finally gets his hands on a girl as delicious as you.

your father made a grave mistake, or did you a favor, depending on how you looked at it, by leaving Joel alone with you, leaving you alone with him, nobody around to stop you from what you had been dancing around for just a little too long by then. after that much time of yearning and guessing, it happened fast, it wasnt a slow burn anymore but a wildfire, scorching everything in its way. instead of being a brat or teasing him the way you had been the days before, you just walked up to him, wearing your nicest little summer outfit, and told him “come on, let me show you something”.

the second you were inside the house, you kissed him, no more hesitation, pure instinct, his arms scooping you up and lifting you onto the nearest surface with determination, his mouth all over your sunkissed neck and that was it. he was done for. the moment your soft lips met his, the moment he first heard you sigh for more as he nipped at your collar bone, he knew: I will give her whatever she wants. to hell with decency. to hell with guilt and shame: she is getting what she asked for. and you did. god you did.

that day, fucked for what felt like hours, first on the couch, then in your room, time melting away as he made you his, in every way he could, the sex so passionate and intense, so loving and charged with feeling and yet so fucking filthy, so much better than either of you could´ve imagined, that neither of you knew how to bring yourselves to stop until you finally collapsed drenched in sweat and shaking from pleasure.

Joel was a giver, through and through, he knew exactly what you needed, just from having observed you, and he didn´t take your virginity that first time you had sex but it felt like he had, since he was the first man to awaken your craving for it, so violently that you got wet just thinking of him in the coming days. 

you couldn´t stay away from each other after that, he tried, he really did try, he apologized to you afterwards and told you that you were way too young, that it was a mistake, that he was a sick man for doing all of that with his friend´s child, but it was pointless, the moment you showed up on his doorstep that night after sneaking out to see him, he folded, and kept folding every following time he saw you. 

the affair went on for nearly the entire summer, stealing moments whenever you could, whether it was fifteen minutes during the day, quickly fucking in his kitchen at noon before you went to meet a friend, or entire weekends when your dad was out of town and you slept in Joels arms like you´d done it a hundred times before, a constant back and forth on his part of “god I fucking love this girl, I wanna keep her forever and ever” and “Jesus Christ I am a depraved man, I need to stop this, now”. 

he had spent so many years suppressing all of his softer impulses, his romantic side, his true nature, so when you came along and he could finally treat you how he´d dreamed of treating a beloved for years, his devotion almost shocked you at times, the way this gruff, jaded man held you in his arms, kissed your face, hugged you in his sleep, with a kind of tenderness that brought tears to your eyes more than once. you behaved like a couple, which was exactly the problem, since you could never actually be one, not out in the open at least. 

eventually, after one too many weeks of counting on dumb luck and somehow not yet getting caught sneaking around with you, Joel sat down and thought about the fact that everyone one the street knew both you and him, that a nosy neighbor might just tell your dad “hey, I saw your daughter walking out of Millers house at 1am last night, I had no idea they were that close?”. one slip-up would be enough to earn him a beating he might not survive. all of a sudden, he was gripped by a white-hot panic after spiralling into those horror scenarios for an entire sleepless night and then sat you down the next day to do the thing that made him want to die: he broke it off. 

it was ugly. it ended in tears. not just yours. he told you that you both had to realize how dangerous it was, that you had to be sensible and move on and find someone your own age back in college, he tried so hard to sell it as the right thing to do, and part of you understood where he was coming from, but that didn´t matter at all, your heart shattered at the idea of never getting to feel him close again, never getting to kiss him or hold him or pleasure him again, so you left his house sobbing and shaking after ignoring his pleas to just hear him out and talk to him. 

later on, you blamed it on something else when your dad asked you about your bloodshot eyes over dinner with concern. “I am in love with your best friend and he just broke up with me” was hardly something you could tell him, the same way Joel couldn´t tell him “I am in love with your daughter and it´s ruining me.” when he saw him the next day and wondered why the man looked even more brooding and grumpy than usual. 

the only reason that you couldn´t crumble and beg him for one more night was that you were about to fly back to your college town anyway, so a week after your last time with him, you were already back in your dorm room, hundreds of miles away from him and still just as devastated as when you could see his truck parked out on the street from your bathroom window. 

you said yes to every plan you could make, to keep your schedule full, to keep yourself from wallowing, but it did not work, you were haunted, day and night, by flashbacks of him. you regularly zoned out while others were chatting around you, thinking about his big arms wrapped around your thighs as he ate you out until you were shaking, about how he worshipped you and kissed you all over, every single time, about his fingers buried deep inside you as he whispered to you good you felt clenched around him, kissing your neck and licking your cum off his fingers, making you taste yourself before adding a third finger and let you grind down against his hand til you cried from pleasure.. you missed the way he´d shush you and caress you when you were undone and weak, the way he´d hold you afterwards, as if he was shielding you from the world.

months of missing him followed that bittersweet summer. some weeks you were fine for the most part, others you cursed his name for making it impossible to even look at other guys, knowing they wouldn´t be able to make you even feel half as good as he had. you were mad at both yourself and him, for giving into something that would forever cast a shadow on any intimacy that wasn´t as perfectly matched as yours. 

the second half of the year passed as quickly as it always did, Christmas break was safe for you and Joel because he spent those weeks with his brother´s family, you weren´t at risk of running into each other, then come springtime you were busy focusing on an internship and classes, so for a while you thought you might actually be over him, but by the time June rolled around and the weather started getting hotter it felt like you were transported right back to the year before, like you´d circled right back to that day where you´d left his house for the last time, the same sense of heartbreak and dread creeping right back into your system when your dad picked you up from the airport and drove you past Joel´s house, the house where you´d spent the happiest nights of your life to date as well as the sweetest mornings. 

the thing that switched your feelings towards him from sadness and longing to blind anger was the way Joel behaved when he stepped foot into the same room as you again for the first time in nearly a year: he ignored you. 

he didn´t even look at you, not once, he refused to meet your eyes or talk to you, which struck you as cowardly, as a cop-out, as crueler than any charged look might have been. 

you wished he´d have just found a small way to let you see that he cared, that he wanted to make sure you were okay, even just a simple smile would´ve been fine, a bit of small-talk, anything, even just a quick “good to see you, kid”. but no. nothing. 

laying in bed that night, in the same bed you´d first had him in, feeling spiteful and hurt, you made a plan. he didn´t get to just look away, not after everything, not when he´d ruined intimacy for you by setting impossibly high expectations. admittedly, you were not just pissed but also unbearably horny after your period of celibacy, wishing he´d just cave and ask you to come over, make it easy for you, give you what you wanted. if you had to put in a bit of work, then so be it, you thought, let´s see how long he can pretend not to care. 

you did not want to be pathetic and beg for him, that was out of the question, you had your pride, but since you knew him well enough by then, you were able to come up with a plan to target his one weakness: jealousy. 

Joel was nothing if not possessive, especially as a lover, and he had yet to see you on another man´s arm, so you invited a few of your high school friends to your dad´s cookout that weekend, which the whole neighborhood including him, would be attending.

you invited one of your guy friends who you knew would play along if you asked him to help you make someone jealous, and, as expected, you were right on the money with that one. 

come Saturday night, you stood around a table with a few others, nursing a drink and telling your friend to touch your lower back right as Joel walked out, giving him the same sparkling eyes that you´d once given Joel, touching his upper arm the same way, really laying it on thick, so much so that Joel nearly tripped over his own feet on his way to help your dad with the grill. he wasn´t angry, no, he was fucking livid. but he couldn´t let it show, so he tried his very best to ignore the sweet, siren-like quality of your laughter and to keep his hands to himself, instead of ripping the guy away from you and slamming him face first into the grass. 

in his mind, you were still his girl, despite everything, so for Joel “nobody lays a finger on what´s mine” Miller it was torture beyond belief, to not just be near your again, which was painful enough on its own, but to also endure an entire evening of watching you, his girl who wasn´t really his, being felt up and flirted with by someone else. he was so close to snapping. he was so damn close to just picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder to take you somewhere private and remind you that he was the only one who truly knew what your body craved, what you fantasized about, touched yourself to. 

even though he busied himself with small talk and sat facing away from you, Joel was acutely aware of your presence, driven insane by it, so when you left to go upstairs and catch a break, to freshen up, disappear into your room for a moment, he should´ve been glad, he should´ve taken the chance to breathe out and calm down, but no. he was a strong man, but not when it came to you, only you could manage to make him feel utterly helpless, which was how he felt when he followed you inside, went up the stairs, and saw you there, seemingly only waiting for him, paused outside of your room, leaning against the wall, back turned to him.

he took the last few steps and then cleared his throat, his arms crossed, his defenses up as he said “so…s´that your new boyfriend out there?”. 

your turned around and for the first time in what felt like an eternity you met his eyes, both of you so clearly affected and yet trying so hard to appear nonchalant. he looked achingly hot in his faded jeans and gray t-shirt, the fabric tight around his tanned biceps, his salt and pepper hair longer than you remembered, his eyes betraying him as he looked you up and down as well, neither of you strong enough to keep your gazes from wandering, now that you were alone, the air immediately charged.

“good to see you too. and no, not that it´s your place to ask, but he´s not my boyfriend” you were being sassy to ignore how painful it was to see him, to remember how gentle he used to be, how much you still needed him, not just sexually, but sensually, to feel the comfort of his touch, his warmth, his adoration.

Joel watched you intently and cocked his head. “hm, right. why bring him home to daddy already then?”. he was onto something, the man wasn´t daft, it was true that you wouldn´t just bring someone your dating along like that unless it was serious, but you tried to keep up the lie, just to rub it in a bit more.

“you interrogating me now, Miller?” you asked, arms crossed as well, imitating him, your tone a little too bratty for his taste, but he´d lie if he said he didn´t have a soft spot for it, you toying with him like that, last name and all, he was a weak man, watching you there in the dim light of the hallway, barely any thought penetrating his mind except for “there you are. my beautiful girl. look at you, giving me hell”.

“just making conversation” he responded, matching your sarcastic tone, taking a few steps forward, as if his legs were moving on their own accord, an invisible hand pushing him towards you. you swallowed and tried not to let it show how badly you just wanted him to snap and overpower you. claim you. fuck you. 

“well, I´m grown, dad is aware that I´m dating, and he´s nice, so why not invite him?” you quipped, making it sound nonchalant.

“nice??” he said too loudly and then lowered his voice a bit, briefly glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody had joined you. “that boy was getting handsy all night, in front of God and everyone, like some horny teenager. never heard of manners apparently. nice ain´t the word I´d use.”

you had to suppress a smile then as he went on his little rant, his jealousy suiting him a little too well, the vein in his neck bulging, his fist clenched, his eyes darker than ever. of course he would put it like that, the old school Texan gentleman, you knew from experience that he was the type to fuck his girl´s brains out in private while never being improper in public, it was part of his charm, the fact that he wanted to keep all the passion he shared with his girl in private, that he made a point of being chivalrous and decent, even though his passions behind closed doors were far from it.

“well, that´s for me to worry about, not you, besides, you could´ve also brought a date, she would´ve been feeling you up the same way, all the women were ogling you out there, could easily take your pick.” you weren´t entirely without jealousy either, he could tell, but it was sheer absurdity, your suggestion, it was frankly an insult to him to be told to find a date by the girl he was so clearly still devoted to, even just in thought, so he stepped even closer to you and sounded stern when he told you “oh no, don´t give me that, girl, don´t even start.” 

truthfully, it turned you on, to be told off by him, to feel the heat of his rage, even just a little bit, and then, right as he was only a few feet away from you, his cologne hit you in full force. your knees almost buckled from it, that scent, the one that you´d smelled whenever you nuzzled your nose against his neck after making love, the mix of his sweat and the sharp, masculine fragrance always dizzying your still-aroused body. the flashbacks hit you hard and you were done pretending, you were done lying and playing, so you said “well you´ll be happy to know that you probably won´t see him or anyone else cozying up to me after tonight, so, we´ll both be lonely then.” 

you held his gaze and felt your heart beat faster from the sudden attempt at honesty, Joel could tell, so he pressed on and tried to finally get some truth out of you “yeah? and why´s that?”. he came even closer, his arm almost brushing yours, your head tilted up due to the height difference. 

“because” you said and took a deep breath, not looking away from him once, trembling. “you ruined me for other guys. you fucking ruined me.” his eyes widened as the pained, angry sound of your voice hit him. “that´s why you came up here, right? to get a confession? well here it is. yes, I miss you, all the time, it´s been torture, and yes I wanted you to be jealous because I was dying to talk to you the moment I landed and then you just ignored me, didn´t even look my way once.”

he was scared you might cry, if there was one thing he couldn´t handle it was seeing tears spill down your pretty face, but his own rage was still simmering, so he was left conflicted and frustrated and unsure whether to shake you or kiss you or both at once. 

“and you think it´s any different for me!??” he hissed and tapped his chest, trying his best to keep his voice down, but increasingly unable to. “it´s been hell on earth to do the right thing and stay away from you, to remember that your old man would put me in the ground if he ever found out about us! do you think it´s easy for me? to just bottle up all my love and push it down forever?? it´s been eatin me alive.”

the words just spilled out, he realized too late that he´d been too honest there, he could tell the moment he saw the look of utter disbelief in your eyes, you hardly ever saw him that openly emotional, let alone talking about “love” explicitly, love, he had said it, he loved you, and you were rendered speechless, no response seeming adequate or enough, even though of course you felt the same. 

Joel´s hand was trembling then as he reached out and placed it on your waist, ever so lightly, the thin fabric of your dress doing very little to separate your skin from his, your whole body screaming for more, his palm so perfectly molded for the curves of your body, your breath hitched. 

“Christ, darlin” he breathed and looked at your neck, the space where it met your shoulder, where his mouth was aching to latch onto, drawing soothing and maddening circles on your left side as he braced himself against the wall with his free hand, trapping you, his scent even stronger then, his chest rising and falling rapidly mere inches from your face.

“do you have any idea what you´re doing to me right now? what last summer did to me? what this…seeing you now, after all that time, looking this sinful” his hand moved to your back then, splayed over it possessively, drawing you closer. “what it does to me?” his voice was barely audible, strained with need as your own breathing got heavier by the second.

“tell me…” you sighed and nearly blacked out when he leaned in to whisper to you “all night, I have had to try my best not to just pull you into a damn room and….” he broke himself off before he could finish the thought, his forehead dropping to yours, your breaths mingling, your hands finding their way to his sides, an instant shudder through his whole body from the contact, his muscles rippling in response to the feeling of you finally clinging to him again. “and-?” you asked, desperate to hear what he wanted to do to you. 

Joel pulled away from you and looked deep into your eyes, your noses almost touching, your scent, your body lotion and perfume and your own natural smell, suddenly flooding his senses as well and tempting him to just have you right in that damn hallway, the sound of laughter in the distance reminding him where he was, what he was getting himself into, again. 

“I should go. I should leave. right now” he said, more like a question than a statement, not moving a single inch away from you. you nodded and looked up at him, sounding just as unconvinced when you said “yeah… yeah you should” your voice barely in-tact by then, your body on the brink of unravelling just from being near him again, so sensitive to his presence that you were already growing wet. he could tell. he knew you. and it did him in.

he drank in the sight of you all vulnerable and open and put his hand to the left side of your face, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, gasping when you opened your mouth as if it was second nature, your eyes locked on his as you licked over the tip of his finger and felt him push it in deeper, touching your tongue, pushing his luck, groaning quietly, unsure how on earth he would survive the sight of that, shutting his eyes for a second and cursing under his breath when you pulled your dirtiest move yet: you closed your lips. and started sucking.

your whole body burned, your blood rushed, your skin tingled all over as he cradled your cheek and watched you treat his thumb like it was his dick, which was straining in his jeans, aching, your plump lips wrapped around his knuckles as you shut your eyes and savored the feeling of having him inside you again, in that small way at least, taking whatever you could get and whining from it, growing aroused to a point of shaking. he moved his thumb and watched you with hunger, with love, with anger, with need, with everything, bursting at the seams, losing his last bit of restraint when he finally pulled his wet finger out of your mouth and wiped a string of saliva from your chin. 

without losing any more time, Joel gripped your wrist one hand, opened your bedroom door with the other, and muttered “dammit all to hell” as he dragged you inside.

he turned the lock with one swift motion before he pressed you up against the door and pulled you into a deep, bruising kiss, his hands grabbing your face with a kind of desperation that knocked the wind out of you. the kiss was pure fire, hard, punishingly passionate, all tongue and unrestrained hunger, his hands wandering, all over you, grabbing like he was scared you´d vanish.

both of you moaned into each other´s open mouths between kisses and Joel only broke away to pull your dress over your head and finally see your body in all its glory again, nearly choking on his spit when your matching set of lacy light pink lingerie was revealed, the golden details shimmering in the dim light of your room, inspiring nothing short of feverish need. you knew that see-through panties were a weakness of his, so it was no surprise that his voice cracked when he stared and whispered “beautiful…” while running his calloused hands all over your body, wrecked by the feeling of your shivers, the way you always responded to his touch, relieved to see that none of it had lessened during your absence, quite the opposite, you seemed even needier than he remembered, and it drove him insane with the desire to please. 

he pushed himself up against you, hips bucking against yours, hands on your exposed back, firm and warm, as he littered your neck in wet, open-mouthed kisses, his stubble tickling you just right, quickly unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor as you tilted your head and moaned for more, giving him better access so he would leave no inch uncovered, his lips finding the underside of your jaw, that weak-spot he was familiar with, and lavished it in attention, tempted to just bite you and mark you for everyone to see, barely keeping himself from it, barely. 

Joel cupped your tits and smiled against your skin when he heard the whiny “ohhh” tumble from your lips as he squeezed and leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, groaning to himself as you were scared you might just fall to the floor, overcome with lust as his tongue drew circles around your sensitive area over and over, his teeth briefly sinking into the swell of your breast as one of his hands slid into your pretty panties to palm your cunt, not yet spreading you open, but well aware that you were dripping for him. you held on for dear life as he sucked on both of your tits and kept his hand in your underwear, rubbing, teasing, reclaiming. you were arms were around his back like a vise as you whimpered to him “I need you, please”.

Joel let go of your chest, leaving it glistening in his spit, and teased you with caresses on the outside area of your aching core as he sighed “right here, yeah? right now?” aware that it was reckless, counting on the fact that everyone was buzzed and happy to be out under the night sky, far away from your room, too far away to overhearing anything, because there was no going back, he needed you, just as much as you needed him. 

“yes right now, have me, please, please Joel I´m dying I can´t wait any more, it´s been too long” you begged and held onto his neck, staring at him with pleading eyes, so he scooped you up, as if you weighed nothing, and felt you wrap your arms and legs around him in response, carrying you with ease and pride as he assured you “shhh I´ve got you darlin, gonna make that ache go away”. 

he strode over to your bed and laid you down on your back, marvelling at the sight of you spread out in front of him, ready to worship at your altar. you held your breath as he kissed your lower stomach, once, twice, three times, and then climbed over you to lean down and kiss you again, slower this time, with feeling, with love, his knee finding your crotch to apply some pressure and hear you whimper into his mouth, to feel you chasing friction, grinding yourself up against his leg as you made out, your heart and soul bursting from the feeling of finally having your man in your bed again, the way it all started the year before, both of you chasing kiss after kiss after kiss, reclaiming both the deep carnal lust you´d shared before and the sacred tenderness, an addictive mix of “I wanna ruin you” and “I wanna make you whole again” to his every touch. 

Joel buried his nose in your hair for a moment to breathe in the achingly familiar smell of your shampoo and pressed a kiss to your temple before he moved down and started trailing kisses from the top of your chest down to your stomach, reverent and in awe, mumbling against your lower stomach “driving me crazy here, sweetheart” when he heard a high-pitched whimper fall from your lips, peppering your skin in too many kisses to count as he moved his hands all over your upper body, caressing, wordlessly telling you “I´ll take care of you now”.

he knew what he had to do when you started squriming, he couldn´t keep you waiting any longer, so he murmured “c´mere” and yanked you towards the edge of the bed, eliciting a gasp from you, pleased by the way you still seemed to adore his strength, the ease with which he could move you into the right position. 

“I wanna see you..” you begged, so Joel pulled off his shirt and let you marvel at the sight of his chest, his shoulders and arms in their nude glory, before he got on his knees and tugged your panties down, smiling at how obediently you lifted your hips, lifting your legs over his shoulders and placing a kiss on your left calf before he spread you wider and settled comfortably between your thighs, one hand reaching up to part your swollen lips and playing with your clit, gently at first, drawing circles and hearing you mewl from it so sweetly while you were propped up on your elbows and watched him, your cunt throbbing relentlessly, begging for more of his touch where an unbearable ache had settled.

“look at that… no wonder I went fucking insane…” Joel mused as he played with your pussy, filthy with it, spreading your juices all over his fingers and licking it off with a groan of pleasure before he finally put his mouth where you needed it. you sighed in relief as he kissed your cunt all over and then dipped his tongue between your folds to get a taste, after so many months of living off of memories, licking over you in broad, sloppy strokes, his hands gripping your thighs and keeping you wide open as he practically made out with your pussy, groaning into you as he lapped at you, picking up the pace, too riled up to draw it out, flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit, again and again, so skilled with it that you laid flat on your back and shut your eyes as you moaned “oh fuck, yes, yes, like that..” your fingers tangled in his hair, hips moving up to meet his mouth, whining for more, Joel switching between slow and fast moves of his tongue in a rhythm that made you see stars and drench his chin, his hands holding you still when you were getting too erratic and bucking up too hard, pulling you down against his mouth whenever you moved up as much as an inch, feasting on you, hard in his jeans from the taste and smell of your sex. 

“god I could stay here the whole night and still need more” he groaned as he come up for air and drooled some of his spit onto you, rubbing it all over you before he slipped a finger into you, slowly, testing the waters, finding no resistance at all, so he added another finger and heard you moan in approval, overwhelmed by how good it felt to finally have him stretch you again, whining as he pumped his fingers into your cunt, curled them up just right, up to the last knuckle, salivating at the sight of your velvety walls opening up for him like that, grunting “fucking hell, feel so good clenched around me baby”. 

a moment later he was back to sucking on your clit while he kept fingering you, the double pleasure driving you insane, his tongue circling your clit, suckling on it relentlessly, your hand flying up to cover your mouth before someone might've heard the loud cry you managed to keep trapped in your throat. 

your legs shook on his shoulders and he used his free hand to keep you somewhat still as you shuddered and came all over his mouth and fingers, faster than you used to, arching your back and biting your lip as it hit you out of nowhere, your cunt pulsating so hard he swore he could feel it in his cock, not just in his fingers, grunting as he kept his tongue on you and let you ride it out until you fell slack and he moved his fingers out, hearing that little whimper of pain at the sudden empty feeling in your cunt. Joel watched you and gently spanked your spasming cunt, to give it some more stimulation, which brought you near tears while the aftershocks were still making you twitch, not tears of pain but of overwhelming pleasure. the slap of his hand on your raw cunt felt divine and Joel could tell, he smiled and whispered “oh she likes that, huh? I remember..”, too far gone to be ashamed anymore. 

you nodded in your state of ecstasy “yes, more, please”, admittedly beyond thrilled by the fact that you were getting fucked like that in your room while everyone downstairs was blissfully unaware, basking in the forbidden thrill of having a man over twice your age take you in your childhood room, a man who was only ever filthy and rough when it got you off, never just to meet his own needs, your body so open to him because you were treated like the most precious, saintly thing, even in the midst of letting him do such sinful things. 

Joel nearly lost his mind and groaned “oh good girl, such a good girl for me....” and gave your cunt another spank, more force behind it then, not brutal, but hard enough to make you quiver and twist on the bed, another spank, and another, a quick succession of slaps against your wetness that made your already swollen cunt grow even more aroused and ready to be ruined, his cock leaking into his boxers, his eyes glazed over with pure lust as he felt you try your best not to move away from the impact of his flat palm, kissing and biting your inner thigh as he kept making “slap slap slap” sounds with his hand against your blood-swollen lips until he gave a last little spank and a kiss on the spot right after, soothing your core and leaving you panting and needy for more, already nearing your second orgasm just from that. you were about to be wrecked. and god were you glad for it. 

Joel unbuckled his jeans and before he could even think about fucking you, you scrambled to get on your knees on the bed, right in front of him and helped him out, eagerly tugging down his pants and underwear as he uttered “darlin.. you don´t have to” clearly never wanting you to give him head out of obligation, but you wanted to, desperately, so you looked up at him and sighed “missed your cock so bad, want it in my mouth..” and gripped his throbbing hardness as he was left bare, his hands on your shoulders then, holding on for dear life.

“Jesus Christ sugar..” he grunted as you stroked his cock and nearly whimpered at the sight.

you knew he was big, he´d been inside you many times, but it was like you were having him for the first time all over again, the thickness of his cock making you ache in anticipation. 

you drooled all over his length and slicked it up good before you circled his tip with your tongue as you kept moving your hand up and down, his hips bucking into your palm as he groaned “ohh hmpfff fuck” and shut his eyes while caressing your hair. you took him into your mouth and sucked him off, swallowing a few thick inches, your head bobbing up and down, your spit running down his shaft in a way that made him shudder and see stars. “fuck yes, like that, just like that babygirl” he praised and tried his best not to just fuck your face as you sucked him to a point of tearing up, addicated to the feel of him hard in your mouth, so vulnerable to your effect on him. Joel lost his mind as you eagerly drooled over his cock, licked and kissed it again before really going all the way down choking on it, his vision blurred and his abs tightly coiled until he pulled you off, so he wouldn´t come too fast.

Joel breathed so heavy that he sounded more like a beast than a man. he wiped the salvia from your mouth and chin and drowned in love and desire for you as you kneeled there with swollen lips and doe-eyes, treating him, an old rugged man, like he was the sexiest man on earth. 

“gotta be inside you, now, lay back baby, spread those pretty legs for me” he ordered and watched you do as he said, settling against the pillows as he climbed over to you while stroking himself, his cock glistening in the dark from your spit, his muscles somehow even more pronounced from the indirect light, his stature nothing short of god-like, so big and strong, the sight making you sick with need as you touched yourself to give him the same pleasure of watching, teasing your clit as he came closer and leaned down to give you a kiss, your free hand on his neck, both of you trembling from need, your bodies back in sync, the way they had been the summer before, perhaps even more. 

he pulled back and pressed one of your thighs up and to the side to give himself better access, guiding himself to your entrance as you gazed at him with pleading eyes, his tip slipping over your wet heat, a deep sound rumbling in his chest from it as he slowly inched in, just a bit, so he could let go and hover over you, tilting your chin up before he placed his hands on the sides of your face and sought out deep eye-contact before he sunk into you deeper, gauging your reaction and whispering encouragements as you wrapped your arms around his neck and whined “fuck..” clearly loving the feeling of his cock stretching you open, filling you the way you hadn´t been filled in way too long.

Joel shivered as he bottomed out and felt your wetness envelope him fully, his head dropping down to your shoulder with a labored breath, his eyes shut as he told himself “dont you dare come too fast” because being back inside you felt too heavenly, even better than he remembered, if that was possible. 

he stayed still for a moment to let both you and himself adjust to the feeling, your hands clinging to his back, turned on by the feel of his hard muscles there as he stretched you wide open, moving slowly at first, staying deep inside, grunting and whispering sweet nothings to you as you savored the full body contact, his scent and heat melting into one with your own, leaving you both deeply at ease and insanely overwhelmed, audibly so as you sighed “fuck… feels so good…” clearly not used to it anymore, so he kissed your cheek and whispered “yeah it does..deep breaths, I´ve got you, darlin, just hold onto me”.

and with that, he picked up the pace, gave you more, felt you scratch his back in a way that made him grunt like an animal from pleasure as he thrust himself into you over and over again, both of you moaning and lost in the feeling, your legs wrapped around his waist by then, trapping him, desperate for more each time his cock pulled out and sank all the way into you again, propping himself up better to get the full view of every little reaction. 

you moaned with each stroke and pressed your head back into the pillow, so Joel leaned in and covered your exposed throat in hot kisses as he dragged himself out of your slick heat and slammed in again with a perverse wet sound, so drenched by then that you could hear his movements echo through the room. “fuckkk baby this pussys gonna ruin me” he groaned and covered your mouth to really fuck your brains out, unable to hold back anymore, shutting you up as he gave it to you, ruined by the feeling of your tight walls gripping his dick as you whined into his palm and left it slick with your spit.

both of you might have come right then, if he hadn´t stopped himself to slow down and position himself more upright while gripping your legs and adjusting them how he wanted them, leaving you flat on your back and trembling, panting, hungry for release as he pushed your thighs up towards your face and fucked back into you “fuck right there, right there, yes” you groaned and closed your eyes in ecstasy as he nearly made you black out from how fucking hard his cock was hitting all the right spots, his voice cracked and full of need as he said “yeah baby? this the sweet spot? right here?”, an eager nod and almost pained sounding “hmm” from you in response as you surrendered to him, fully. 

Joel wasn´t gonna back down then, he was a man possessed and wanted to see you unravel, so he kept up the relentless rhythm of his fucking as he licked over the pad of his thumb and reached down to draw slick circles over your clit, the winning move, every single time, your body responding so well that he smiled at the pleased little “ohhh fuck, don´t stop” you let out, his finger pressing up against your sensitive bundle of nerves as his cock left your cunt feeling raw in the best way, “that´s it, taking me so damn well baby” he praised in awe.

Joel was overcome by it all, having you under him once more, after so many months of touching himself to memories, his eyes burning because he forgot to blink as he watched his dick disappear inside you again and again, the sight of your dripping, swollen, pretty pussy swallowing him like that driving him to near insanity, his finger dragging over your clit and spreading your juices as he fucked you deep, his body so coiled and tense as your walls contracted from the impending orgasm, his hips stuttered and his body shook as he groaned “fuckkk gonna kill me squeezin like that, goddamn baby.. youre so close, arent ya?”.

you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and your face twisted in pleasure as you moaned “yes…fuck I´m gonna come”, the orgasm building and building until he said “let go baby, show me, lemme see” which was the final push, as if he had full control over your senses, the orgasm hitting you in full force as the words left his mouth, your whole body spasming as you went quiet and squeezed his cock so hard he had to brace himself against your thighs, a bruising grip on you as you came all over his length and heard him groan “goddamn...” as he didn´t let up yet and fucked you through the high, your body shaking and in that state where you wanted to be taken to a point of full on ruin,so instead of riding the orgasm out and waiting to pick up your fucking again, you begged him “keep going, please keep going”. 

Joel leaned forward again then and faced you as he sighed “wanna come for me again, yeah?”, kissing you all over your face and your mouth as you whimpered “yes, I´m so sensitive, I´ll come so fast” which was all he needed to hear. Joel quickly moved a flat pillow under your hips and caressed your shaking legs before he put one of them over his shoulder, creating the deepest angle possible and locking eyes with you as he smiled and put his index finger over his lips, teasing you, telling you “try not to scream, we can´t be found out”, your face hot as you kept looking into his dark eyes and saw nothing but deep devotion there as he held onto your extended leg and tilted his head to kiss your calve as he started to pound you, there was no other word for it, he was hitting parts of you that made it feel like he was fucking your soul, so you put your arm over your face and bit down into your flesh to muffle the cries he was drawing out of you, his pride bubbling up deep in his chest as he kept feverishly kissing your leg and rutting into you, his cock still not covered in enough of your cum for his taste, even though you were leaking by then, the man wanted to be covered in you. 

he smelled like wood and musk and his own natural scent, so carnal and sexy and his body was dripping sweat by then, beads of perspiration running down his back and chest, a faint growling sound rumbling in his chest as you left a bitemark on your skin from how hard you were trying to keep your moans from ripping out of you in a loud scream, your next high already building deep in your stomach and hitting your entire body soon after, his movements stilling as you clenched around his cock like a vise and convulsed from an even more intense climax than before, your juices leaking over his throbbing length as he grunted “fuckkk oh” and tired not to lose his stamina.

as you whimpered from the orgasm, he put down your leg again and hovered over you to gave you a deep kiss, swallowing up every little sound as you wrapped your arms around his back and kissed his shoulder, nuzzled your head against it as he let you catch your breath, his lips never leaving you, your mouth, your cheek, your temple, his hands reaching for yours so he could make you lace your fingers through his, a brief kiss to your knuckles, his heart bursting with love for you. 

“youre perfect, baby…want this sweet pussy leaking all over my face again” he whispered to you and helped you move. 

“come here, up here, sugar” he encouraged as he laid back and gestured for you to come and take a seat, hoisting you up with his strong arms and holding onto your hips with a firm grip as you placed your hands on the headboard and tried to find the best way to sit, which was made easy for you when he decided to pull you down onto his mouth and go at it without giving you any time to prepare, his tongue greedy and yet so soft and soothing on your aching cunt as he kept it flat and let you rock your hips to meet his slow, self-indulgent strokes, your body shaking a bit as you looked down to watch your cunt move back and forth over his mouth, turned on by the view, his eyes meeting yours as helped you, guiding your hips as you rolled them and whimpered from the feeling of riding his tongue, his nose bumping up against your clit in a way that made you bite your lip and curse under your breath.

the thing that killed you then, was that he took his right hand away from your body to reach down and jerk himself off, seemingly so turned on from having you drip all over his face that his cock was aching for relief, for any kind of touch, so for a while you kept your thighs spread by the sides of his face and enjoyed the feeling of being worshipped by his mouth like that, feeling so sexy and strong in a way only he could make you feel even as you were shaking and losing your mind, chasing your next high with desperate need as he kept his tongue still and let your really fuck his face, slippery sounds and pleased “hmms” hitting your ears as his hand slowly moving up and down his throbbing shaft. he grunted up into you, deeply pleased when you shivered and nearly collapsed right on top of him from yet another wave of orgasmic pleasure, his mouth thoroughly covered in your arousal. 

you climbed down from him while uttering “jesus…”, dazed and vibrating with the never-ending drive to be completely undone by him. he wiped his mouth and licked his lips with a pleased smile, hands reaching out to steady you and keep you from falling over to your side “hmm, easy there, nice n´slow”. 

“need you deep in me.…” you whined, still not close to done with him, which made him smile, pride flickering in his eyes, remembering all those times you´d just asked for and more of him, no matter how sore you´d be the next day. 

“yeah? need to be nice n´full again, sugar?” he asked as you went to straddle his legs, those big strong thighs had grinded up against countless times before, still so maddeningly enticing to you, just the like the rest of his physique as he sat there in the nude, ready to have you take what you needed, to have you on top of him for the first time in way too long. 

you reached out to stroke his dick and watched him nod in approval as his abs tightened in response “yeah baby, take that cock and make it yours”. he watched you like a hawk stalking its prey as you hovered over him and held him in your hands, lowering yourself and guiding him to your entrance, whimpering as you slowly sat down on his length, his hands on your waist to help you, sooth you, caressing you softly as you got all the way down and started rocking yourself back and forth. 

you braced yourself against his chest and started riding him, eager, needy, relieved to have him inside you again, your body glistening with sweat, his eyes straining to take in every little detail at once as he murmured “atta girl, look at you..”, unsure how he´d gotten lucky enough to have a girl like you spoil him like that, his hands wandering down to your ass, squeezing and supporting you as you slid up and down his length, your head thrown back, your tits bouncing with every move, both of you beyond riled up, moaning and mumbling barely coherent things to each other, suddenly reminded why you used to fuck for hours and still want more, right back in that place where everything around you faded and all that was left was the need to ruin each other with as many releases of your pent-up lust as possible, until your bodies would force you to take a break.

he marveled at you as you rode yourself into oblivion on him and let out the sweetest cries, Joel angled his hips a bit differently then to make his cock hit you even better and watched you fall apart, your pussy dripping all over him, leaking down your inner thighs, your walls pulsing so hard you were about to start crying from it, so he pulled you down and held you against his chest as he assured you “shhh I know it´s a lot, you´re doing so well darlin, you can take some more, I know you can, just let go, I´m here, right here”. 

you were flush against his chest then as you nodded and whimpered against his skin while you kept moving, Joel taking over and asking “want me to go hard, baby?”, adjusting you on him so you could lay there and let him fuck you from below. “yes.. please…” you sighed and the achingly fragile sound of that “please” was the thing that did it for him. he was so overcome with everything he felt for you, everything he had to bottle up for so long, that he snapped and held you tighter against himself than ever as he fucked you from below like he had a point to prove, your moans of approval only turning him even more feral, the sound of skin slapping against each other filling the room as you kept your face pressed against his shoulder and let him ruin you, another orgasm hitting you then as he gave you a calculated, intense, deep last thrust and then stilled completely, buried balls deep as he told you “come all over my lap, that´s it, good girl, so good for me” as you bit his shoulder to stifle your high-pitched cry and shuddered, leaking all over him, still rocking up and down on his cock as he groaned and nearly came inside you, but not yet, not just yet.

after a moment of laying on him, breathless, undone, you shakily peeled yourself off and said “one more…”, reading his mind, so he caressed you and asked “you sure, baby? already took a lot” making sure you were fine, but you didn´t waste any time talking and instead just moved over to the empty side of your bed and got on your hands and knees, lowering your head until it was resting against your pillow, which left you ass up, looking so deeply submissive that Joel almost felt undeserving, like he´d cheated his way into that moment and was gonna pay for it heavily down the line, but all that mattered to him then was you, your body, your heart, your soul, your needs, so he got behind you and caressed your cheeks before littering them in kisses and lovebites before he leaned in and buried his face in you. 

at first, he ate you out from behind, grunting as his still-hard cock twitched from that divine taste, lapping at you as you drooled into the pillow.

one thing you loved about fucking him was the he always switched between giving you head and fucking your brains out, using the soothing effect of his tongue to give your overstimulated pussy some love between positions, always starting and ending your moments of passion with his mouth on you, never just penetrating you, always making sure you were kissed and licked just right. he was a filthy lover, so he moved his mouth up and ate your ass too, greedy with it, spitting on his fingers and teasing your hole before he swirled his tongue over it and heard you moan “fuck.. ugh” in response, clutching the sheets and tilting your head on the pillow to look behind and see him going at you like a man starved. 

“want you to come in me…” you sighed, so he pulled his mouth away and slid two fingers into you from behind, slowly, making sure you were still wide open and relaxed, an undignified squeal leaving you as he did it, your pussy always aching for him, his fingers in particular, something so intimate about it, the hand that was used to handling rough material, so gentle when it was inside of you. “yeah? want me to fill you up? want me to claim this pretty pussy?” he groaned and slid his fingers out again, licking them off and guiding his tip to your swollen lips, easily sinking into the depths of you again, holding your hips and drawing soothing circles there with his thumb as he gave you slow strokes from the back.

his cock hitting a differnet angle now that you were face down, ass up, a different kind of ache spreading through your core, so deliciously overwhelming after all the other ways he´d already pleased you by then, “fuck baby, I´m gonna come…” he growled and went a bit faster, snapping his hips against your ass as he could feel his cock throbbing painfully hard until he buried himself to the hilt, leaned over you, flush against your back, and kissed your shoulder feverishly as his cum leaked into you in thick spurts, so warm and comforting, your pussy drinking it all up, his groans so animalistic as he kept deliriously kissing your back, both of you completely ruined, so deeply satisfied, so relieved and happy to have it back, that once in a lifetime physical connection, that love you shared, that ability to undo and heal each other all at once. you glowed with exhaustion and happiness as he peeled himself away from you and gave you a moment to calm down, laying on his back and caressing your spine, fingertips ghosting over you, marvelling at his beautiful girl, all his again, all his. 

you both knew that every second you spent locked inside that room was a risk, you knew someone, god forbid your father, might be looking for you right at that moment, you knew, and yet neither of you could bring yourselves to rush and get up, to get dressed and leave that moment of sacred intimacy behind already. 

so, you laid there, just as quiet as him as you felt him trace patterns on your back, smiling to yourself, every part of your body practically thanking you for being that audacious, every inch of you thoroughly relaxed and loose, after so many weeks of aching for him, being tense and lonely and untouched. you could feel his cum slowly leaking out of you, but you didn´t care about ruining your sheets, you refused to clean it off, for the time being you wanted to feel claimed, you wanted to feel the proof of his need for you between your legs, just for a little longer - Joel refused to move and grab a tissue or towel, for very similar reasons. 

eventually, you turned around and looked at him, so Joel sighed “come here, let me hold you” and opened his arms, overjoyed to watch you settle on his chest the way you did, like you belonged there, which you did, your head resting right above his heart as you laced your leg over his and put your arm over his middle, snuggled up against him, breathing in his scent, the same way he did yours, Joel pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head and rubbing your back just the way he knew you loved. 

“yeah I know why we went insane…” you mused, which got a low laugh out of him “you´re telling me, girl. I was out here losin whatever was left of my sanity thinking of you day and night. could anyone blame me though?” he asked and gave your hip a squeeze for emphasis, which made your grin and turn your head to look up at him. 

“yeah? that bad?” you asked, clearly aware of your effect on him, but still, wanting to hear more. Joel tapped the tip of your nose in response to your cheeky question and said “let´s just say I´m pretty damn sure some of my gray hairs have something to do with you, what you put my old heart through.” he phrased it dramatically for comedic purposes, he wasn´t actually blaming you, so you smiled and reached up to ruffle his hair a little. “I noticed, yeah. it suits you.. I like this” you twirled a longer strand of his salt and pepper hair around your finger before you let go and saw him raise his eyebrows and smirk. “do you now? got a thing for silver foxes, sweetheart?”. 

“just for you” you whispered and moved further up to give him a kiss, a lingering, loving one, his hand reaching down to caress your neck and pull you up against his lips as close as possible.

“you know..” he said and looked at you with a flicker of mischief in his eyes. “if you wanna sneak out later and come to my house, the way you did last summer, I won´t turn you away. I´ll just take the damn risk this time, you´re worth it, always.”

you beamed at him then, clearly feeling triumphant, beyond glad that he was not brushing your reunion sex off as a moment of weakness, a mistake, a one time thing that can never happen again, that he was trying to be brave for the sake of your connection. 

“haven´t had enough of me, old man?” you teased, that familiar little nickname reminding him of all the other times you´d joked about his age to bait him into proving just how strong his “old” body still was.

“no. never. and you´re not going home with that little boy down there, that much I know.” he said, the sound of his jealousy never seizing to send a little tingle through your system, but you decided to relieve him of it, for the time being. you looked at him and said “he´s just a friend,  we were putting on a show, he helped me out, did me favor”. 

Joel rolled his eyes and smacked your thigh playfully “Christ, of course that´s what it was. always been a tease, hm?”.

“I haven´t been with anyone.. since you.” you confessed and you swore you could hear him sigh in relief. all the nightmare scenarios of other men getting their hands on you, waking up next to you, getting their taste of you, vanished into thin air and left Joel feeling a few pounds lighter.

“me neither, ain´t no way in hell I could´ve done that, I´m a one-woman-man, even when she´s not really mine and far away, even when it´s just in my head.” he said, which made you melt and kiss him again, both of you losing yourselves in the kiss as you sighed against his lips and revelled in the feel of his strong body pressed against yours “we have a lot to make up for then, hm?”.

he had his arms wrapped around you all possessive as he agreed “oh, yes. don´t care if I´ll be limpin and sore all over, I´ll make sure we get our fill, trust me, baby.” 

“I´ll massage you if it hurts too bad” you told him and gently squeezed his shoulders.“such a darling girl, hm?” he said and smiled at how you were feeling him up. you could tell that he was debating whether or not to say what was on his mind when you looked into his eyes again, surprised by the the vulnerability you could detect in them, so you nudged him, ever so lightly, wordlessly asking to be let in.

“it´s just…” he traced your arm with his index finger “you deserve much more than this, sneakin around. but I swear I´ll do whatever I can to make you happy, to make you feel good and looked after, and I mean that. if anyone gives you trouble, if anything at all is bothering you, you come to me, alright? I´ll be there, I swear, won´t ever make you leave me alone again. damn fool, that´s what I was last year, but not anymore. I´ll make it up to you, promise, baby.”

you almost teared up and took his hand in yours. “Joel.. first of all this is all I need right now, this is more than enough for me, and I know how scared you were, for good reason, you had every right to break it off. I just loved that time we had together, so much, and I needed you so bad that it turned into anger. but I never actually blamed you, it was a tough situation, still is. but we´re here now, that´s all that matters to me, this is all I want”. 

“same for me baby, I’m right where I wanna be, can’t believe I have you back in my arms.” he whispered the last part and kissed your forehead before pulling you into a tight hug which you stayed in for a few minutes, just resting your heads on each other´s shoulders and breathing, warm and safe. 

when you separated, you said “we should probably get downstairs again” and moved to the edge of your bed. Joel nodded and moved to get up “yeah. I think he won´t let me leave before 11, so I´ll stay for a bit longer, but then I´ll go home and you can come over like half an hour later, alright? or fifteen minutes maybe…” you smiled at his impatience “I´ve got it, I´ll make sure he doesn´t notice where I´m going, promise”. 

“you´re a clever girl, I trust you” he said as he pulled on his boxers and watched you gather your dress up from the floor, making sure you knew that he wasn´t pressuring you to make him feel safe in your shared transgression.

after you put on your bra and dress, you stood there watching Joel, admiring him as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and smoothed it out over his chest, whistling quietly to get his attention and tell him “you´re getting even more handsome with age, you know, it´s not fair”.

Joel was not used to being flustered or blushing over compliments, not anymore, not since you´d left, so he waved it off and said “oh shush”, suppressing a smile and shaking his head in faux-disapproval “always givin me hell, I swear, gonna be the death of me one of these days...” it was sweet to you, that a man like him almost seemed like a schoolboy with a crush whenever you explicitly told him how hot you thought he was. 

before you could get to your panties, which were still left on the floor, he picked them up and took a good look at them, smoothing the light pink lace out between his fingers. “these are new, aren´t they” he mused and felt tempted to push them up against his nose. 

it pleased you, that he noticed, since you´d bought that set of lingerie with him in mind. 

“yeah, I remembered you had a thing for me in lace, so” you admitted and stepped closer to him, gently prying the garment out of his palm to do something he wasn´t expecting. not one bit. 

instead of putting your panties back on, you folded them up and reached around to the back of his jeans to stuff them into the left pocket, shoving them down so the fabric wouldn´t peek out at the top, holding his gaze as you did it, smiling and then stepping away again to watch him realize what you were letting him get away with. 

Joel knew it was all kinds of fucked up, but he was thrilled by it: the idea of walking back outside again, talking to people, his neighbors and friends, being polite and charming, a gentleman, as always, while his girl´s panties were stuffed into his jeans, right there with him, soiled by your desire for him. the idea of you walking around without anything under that dress of yours, maybe even still leaking with his juices, that part he couldn´t even think about without fearing he might get hard again.

Joel pulled you in by your arms and stared down at you as he  “you know me too damn well, sweetheart… it´s dangerous.” a pause before he leaned down to whisper to you “never change.” 

eventually, you unlocked your door and peeked out to make sure the air was clear before waving him out. 

Joel rested against the wall next to you, like he was a stranger chatting you up at a bar, and said “alright, I´ll go down first and if they ask where you´ve been for so long you can just say you got sick and I helped you out, okay?”.

it was an easy but effective lie, in case you needed it, so you nodded and agreed, still holding his hand without even realizing, his thumb tracing little circles on your open palm. he looked at you as if he was waiting to wake up from a dream, scared he was just imagining it, your touch, your presence, the mercy of having you back after all those sleepless nights of imagining it.

neither of you wanted to part ways, even though you would see each other from afar once you were both out in the backyard again, but Joel somehow mustered up the strength to tear himself away from you after he gave you a firm embrace and a kiss to the top of your hand, bowing his head and leaving his lips lingering right on your knuckles until he reluctantly let go and walked downstairs.

a few minutes later, you found your friends sitting by the pool, too drunk to notice that you´d been absent for a good while, to your great relief. Joel took a seat nearby, chatting with your dad and a few other neighbors over a cool beer as he kept glancing over at you, the way you were dipping your feet into the water and swinging your legs back and forth while laughing at something your friend had said, that sweet sound he wished he could hear as often as he heard the birds chirping outside his bedroom window. 

to his surprise, he didn´t feel guilty in the presence of your father, not really, something had shifted for him because he knew in his heart, that despite what he´d told himself before, that he was good for you, that he was handling you with care as a lover, showing you what you deserved, that he was making sure you´d never settle for lukewarm passion and someone who didn´t treat you right. 

around 11 he made a joke about being too old to stay up that late and hugged a few people goodbye before he gathered his things. when you turned your head to look at him and found him glancing your way over his shoulder too, you gave him a knowing, soft smile and swore you could see him clutch his heart right as he disappeared into the dark of the night.

Joel felt tears gathering in his eyes, tears of joy, tears of relief, of love, and shed a few as he walked down the street, wondering why he of all people had been blessed with an angel like you - he was not a believer, but your name rang in his mind like a prayer, over and over, your mere existence seeming like a miracle to him, a blessing, divine intervention. you brought him to his knees and that´s where he would stay. glad for his weakness. glad to be the one to show you what it meant: to be worshipped by someone who would burn up his life to keep you warm.

[youthereader]

Neighbors

pairing: Old Man!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

summary: 2.9k words. “You’re like a damn stray cat,” he said, voice warm but teasing. “Show up on my doorstep enough times, guess I gotta let you in.”

rating: E. Unspecified age gap. Prone bone. Soft Dom Joel. Praise kink.

a/n: Mid week low mood got me pining for more Joel.

The first time you saw him, he was hammering something into the side of his porch. Sweat darkened the back of his shirt, the sleeves shoved up past his elbows. He had that slow, methodical way about him—pausing between strikes, tilting his head to assess his work like nothing in the world could rush him.

Joel Miller, your neighbor.

You’d heard about him in passing—came to Jackson a few years back, keeps to himself, works patrol sometimes. Older. Quiet. Not the sort you expected to notice you.

Except he did.

The second time you passed by, you caught him looking. Just a glance from under the brim of his cap, quick enough to be polite, but not so quick you didn’t feel it.

It became a pattern: you walking by, him outside working on something—stacking firewood, oiling a saddle, mending a fence. Sometimes he’d nod, sometimes he’d grunt a greeting, sometimes nothing at all.

But your eyes started finding excuses to linger.

The way his shoulders bunched under a faded flannel. The lines around his eyes when he squinted against the sun. The deep, steady rumble of his voice when he did speak.

It wasn’t until the day you showed up at his door with a plate—half bread, half an excuse to talk—that things shifted.

He answered in a soft undershirt, looking tired but warm. The sight alone had you gripping the plate tighter.

“Brought you somethin’,” you said, holding it out.

Joel glanced at the bread, then back to you. His mouth twitched like he might smile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

“Guess I wanted to.”

That’s when he did it—stepped back from the door, one broad hand gesturing you inside.

“C’mon in,” he said, voice low. “Ain’t polite to make you stand out there.”

You hesitated—because walking into Joel Miller’s home felt like crossing a line you couldn’t uncross—but your feet still moved.

-

Joel stepped back from the door just far enough to let you pass. You caught the faint scent of sawdust and soap as you moved by him, the space between your shoulders and his chest a narrow slip of air.

“Sit,” he said, nodding toward the table in the corner. His voice was low, unhurried, like there was no chance you’d say no.

You set the plate down and slid into the chair he pointed at. He moved into the kitchen, pulling two mugs from the shelf.

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”

He didn’t say anything while it brewed. You watched the way his hands worked—broad palms, square fingers, one of them bent slightly like it never healed right. His forearms were bare, dusted with dark hair, a smudge of something pale near his elbow.

He poured the coffee, slid one mug in front of you, then leaned back against the counter with his own. His eyes found yours over the rim as he took a slow sip.

“Bread smells good,” he said finally.

“Hope it tastes better than it looks.”

That earned you the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t reckon I’ve seen you much,” he said, after a beat. “You new to this part of town?”

“Couple months,” you said. “Guess I walk by here a lot, though.”

He gave a slow nod, eyes dipping briefly to your mouth before lifting again. “I’ve noticed.”

That landed between you like a weight. The air shifted—less about bread now, more about what he hadn’t said.

You wrapped your hands around the mug, not for the warmth, but to keep them still. He stayed where he was, all calm and quiet, but his attention never left you.

When the silence stretched, you started to rise, fingers curling under the edge of the plate. “I should let you—”

“Let me,” he cut in softly, stepping forward. His hand brushed yours as he took the plate, the contact warm and deliberate. “Ain’t polite to let you take this back empty.”

You froze at the touch, and his eyes—dark, unreadable—held yours for just a breath too long.

He set the plate down on the counter, close enough that you’d have to step toward him to take it back.

When you did, he didn’t move. The heat of him pressed faintly against you, not enough to be called touching, but close enough you felt the pull.

That’s when he reached up, slow and certain, and hooked a single finger under your chin. Tilted your face toward his.

“You always bring your neighbors fresh bread?”

Your voice caught in your throat. “Just the ones I want to see again.”

Something flickered in his expression—approval, maybe, or hunger—but his thumb stayed light at the edge of your jaw.

His thumb stroked once, absently, like he was memorizing the shape of your face.

Then he let go.

“Appreciate the bread,” he said, stepping back, voice gone steady again. “And the company.”

It should’ve sounded final, but it didn’t. Not when his eyes stayed on you as you stepped toward the door.

You half expected him to follow, but he stayed in the kitchen, leaning a hip against the counter. Just watching.

You were still thinking about the weight of his gaze when you got home.

-

You spotted him again a few days later, out in the yard with an axe. The air was cold enough to turn your breath to fog, but Joel was stripped down to a worn undershirt, sleeves pushed up, forearms taut as he split logs in clean, practiced strokes.

He looked up when you passed, straightened, nodded.

“You need any kindling?”

You didn’t. But you said yes anyway, just to see him carry an armful across the path to your porch. He set it down without a word, brushed his palms together, and gave a short, “There you go,” before heading back.

It kept happening. Little sightings. Brief exchanges.

On laundry day, Jackson’s rotation put you both in the same room. Folding across from each other, the smell of soap thick in the air. He didn’t talk much, but when you had to pass by him in the narrow aisle, his hand found your lower back for the briefest second—light, steady, a silent go ahead. He didn’t look at you when he did it, but your skin warmed there for the rest of the afternoon.

One evening, your porch light burned out. Joel noticed. The next night he knocked on your door with a new bulb in one hand and a step ladder in the other.

“You didn’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off with a small shrug, already unfolding the ladder.

The conversation was easy, warmer now, but still careful. When he left, he said over his shoulder, “Don’t wait too long if somethin’ else breaks.”

Then came the dance.

You saw him from across the hall, sitting alone at a table with a glass in front of him, one elbow resting lazy against the back of his chair. His eyes tracked the room, half-present. You walked straight to him.

“Thought I’d find you hiding,” you said.

That got you the smallest huff of a laugh. “You here alone?”

“Yeah.” You tilted your head, smirking. “You?”

His gaze narrowed slightly, curious. “What’s it mean, you comin’ over here?”

You shrugged, all false nonchalance. “Means I wanted to.”

The silence after was short but heavy. He didn’t ask you to dance. You didn’t ask him either. But when you left, you caught him watching you go.

A week later, after a run-in outside the store, he offered to walk you home. The street was quiet, boots crunching on frost. You didn’t talk until he said, “Y’know I’m older than you.”

“I figured,” you said, glancing over. “Didn’t realize it did it for me.”

That stopped him for half a step.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, more firmly. “You’re just my type.”

His hand found yours briefly—just a light tug that pulled you a fraction closer—before he let go like nothing had happened.

The next time you knocked on his door, you had a bowl of stew balanced in both hands. Joel took it, paused, then asked, “You comin’ in, or you just droppin’ this off?”

You stepped inside without thinking.

He leaned against the counter while you talked, not moving toward you but not looking away either. His gaze felt like a hand, low and steady on you. When you left, he stood in the doorway, one arm braced against the frame, watching until you disappeared into the dark.

And it was clear—next time, something was going to happen.

-

It was colder that night. The kind of cold that bit at your ears and made you pull your coat tighter. You didn’t have an excuse to see him, but you knocked on his door anyway.

Joel answered in a flannel and jeans, hair a little mussed, like he’d been reading or fixing something before you interrupted. His eyes flicked from your face to your hands, empty this time.

“No stew tonight?” he asked.

“Nope.” You shifted your weight, letting the silence speak for you.

He stepped aside. “C’mon in.”

The warmth of the house wrapped around you instantly, tinged with coffee and woodsmoke. He closed the door, but didn’t pass you—just leaned back against it, arms folded, studying you in that quiet way of his.

“You don’t usually show up without a reason,” he said.

“I’ve got one,” you answered, moving toward him.

That earned you the smallest crease between his brows. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

You stopped close enough that his crossed arms nearly brushed your coat. “I wanted to see you.”

He didn’t move for a long moment. His jaw shifted, a muscle working there, and you swore you could feel the change in the air—like the whole house was holding still.

“You sure?” he asked finally, low and rough.

“Yeah,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Something in him let go then. His arms dropped, and one hand found your hip, the other cupping the side of your face as he bent toward you. His mouth was warm, deliberate, unhurried but certain. Not testing anymore—claiming.

You leaned into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and his hand tightened at your hip. He kissed you like he’d been thinking about it for weeks, like each press of his mouth was confirming something to himself.

When you broke apart, breath catching, he didn’t let go. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, eyes fixed on you.

“Guess I’ve been waitin’ for you to say that,” he murmured.

His thumb still resting on your jaw, Joel gave a quiet huff of a laugh.

“You’re like a damn stray cat,” he said, voice warm but teasing. “Show up on my doorstep enough times, guess I gotta let you in.”

“Guess so,” you murmured, smiling against his chest.

His hand slid up into your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, slower this time but deeper, his mouth opening to yours until your knees felt loose. When you pressed closer, he drew a sharp breath through his nose—like he’d been holding himself back and something in him had just snapped.

“Bedroom,” he said against your mouth, not a question.

You followed him down the short hall, the worn wood creaking underfoot. His room smelled faintly of cedar and old paper, the bedside table holding a half-drunk glass of water and a pair of reading glasses folded neatly beside a book. The quilt on the bed was rumpled, like he’d been sitting there not long ago.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, knees apart, looking up at you with that steady, searching gaze. The lamplight softened the deep lines at the corners of his eyes, caught the silver at his temples. His shirt pulled against the solid bulk of his belly, not hard muscle but the kind of strength you knew came from years of work.

“C’mere,” he murmured, tugging you in by the hips until you were standing between his knees. His hands worked slowly at your clothes, peeling them away piece by piece, fingers brushing bare skin in a way that made your chest ache as much as it made your thighs tense.

When you were down to nothing, he ran both palms up your sides, thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts. “Look at you,” he said, almost to himself. “All this time…”

You swung a leg over and straddled him, bracing your hands on his shoulders. His big hands cupped your ass, guiding you closer until you felt him thick and hot under the denim. You kissed him again, grinding against the firm ridge of him until he growled low in his throat.

“Hold on,” he muttered, and you barely had time to register before he shifted, getting your jeans down, his own fly undone in quick, practiced motions. He groaned when you sank down onto him, stretching around him inch by inch until you were seated fully in his lap.

“Jesus, you feel good,” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips as you started to move—slow at first, then with more urgency as the slick sound of your bodies filled the room. His gaze roamed shamelessly over you, from your mouth to the sway of your breasts to the place where you met.

You were just finding your rhythm when Joel’s hands tightened. “Up,” he ordered, and before you could protest, he’d swung you around, easing you forward onto your stomach.

The mattress dipped behind you as he moved down the bed, big hands parting your thighs. His mouth was on you before you could turn to look, tongue working hot and slow through your folds. He groaned against you when you pushed back into him, his fingers spreading you wider so he could lick deeper.

“Joel—” you gasped, clutching at the quilt, your voice breaking when he sucked gently at your clit. He didn’t stop until you were trembling, the aftershocks making your thighs quiver.

Only then did he crawl back over you, bracing his weight on one arm as he guided himself inside from behind. The stretch was intense like this, his chest pressed warm and solid to your back, the faint rasp of his beard brushing your shoulder.

“Sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with heat, “been thinkin’ about this for weeks.”

His thrusts were slow at first, letting you feel every inch, before he started to push harder, the bedframe creaking under the steady rhythm. You could feel his breath at your ear, could hear the catch in it when you clenched around him.

His thrusts deepened, pace steady but hard, the kind of control that made you dizzy. Then Joel’s hand slid up from your waist, along your ribs, to curl firmly around the front of your throat—not choking, just holding you there. With that grip, he pulled you back against him, bending you until your spine arched and your head tipped so you were looking straight up into his eyes.

The sight of him above you—jaw set, eyes dark, the sweat at his temples catching the lamplight—made your pulse stutter.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice a low command. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

You did, and the relentless rhythm didn’t falter. His hips hit yours with solid, rhythmic force, each movement dragging a helpless sound from your throat. The wet slap of your bodies meeting filled the room, each one punctuated by the rough drag of his breath.

“If I wanted to come inside you,” Joel rasped, his thumb brushing under your jaw, “would you let me?”

The question punched the air from your lungs. You nodded, desperate, the word yes caught somewhere between your tongue and your heartbeat.

His mouth curved—not a smile exactly, but something darker. “Maybe next time.”

Your body clenched around him involuntarily, your knees weak under the way he said it. He groaned, hips stuttering just once before he pushed you forward onto your stomach, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you there.

A few more thrusts and he pulled out, fisting himself over you. You barely had time to catch your breath before the heat of him hit your back—thick, hot ropes marking your skin, sliding down over the curve of your ass. His breath was ragged above you, his free hand smoothing down your spine like he could feel every shiver in your body.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked, thumb swiping absently over the mess he’d left. “Look at you.”

You let your cheek rest against the quilt, eyes closing, the weight of him beside you on the bed somehow more intimate than the sex itself.

Joel sat there for a moment, catching his breath, before pushing himself up and disappearing toward the bathroom. You lay still, the cooling trails on your back making you shiver, the room smelling like sex and woodsmoke.

He came back with a towel, warm from the radiator. Settling beside you, he nudged you gently onto your side so he could wipe you clean—slow, careful strokes, like he was handling something delicate.

“You alright?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You nodded, watching him toss the towel aside and pull the quilt up over both of you.

For a long moment, he just lay there on his side, one hand resting heavy and warm over your hip. His eyes roamed your face like he was memorizing it. Then, with a faint smirk, he murmured, “Knew you’d be trouble. Stray cat, showin’ up at my door ‘til I let you in.”

“Guess I’m staying now,” you said, half teasing, half hoping.

He huffed a laugh, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Yeah. Guess you are.”

You settled against him, the steady beat of his heart under your cheek, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

[writteninthebinds-deactivated20]

Fast n’ Dirty

Summary: Joel’s gotta crush on the girl that works nights at the CVS. He swears it’s nothin, that he’s just a guy lookin’ out for a nice girl in the rougher part of town. He’s lying.

tw: kinda pervy Joel. slight stalker-ish behavior? not really, Joel just frequents that CVS a lot..but on purpose? sex products, rough sex, meanie!Joel, degrading dirty talk, oral (m receiving), serious objectification, tit play, lactation kink, guys Joel’s a freak here but so is reader so yay. I did edit this but it’s also 4am here and I haven’t slept. if there’s any edits to make, I’ll fix them later 🫶🏼

wc: 3,952

—

Joel knows you work nights at the CVS just outside Arvin county, at the crossing of Milton and Pell Circle. He drives past it almost everyday on the way to different sites.

None of it was intentional. Joel never meant to be creepy. It was accidental, instinctual, the way he remembered your schedule. It wasn’t weird. You were just younger, and pretty, and they never seemed to schedule you during the day. It put Joel on edge. If he noticed your schedule it meant someone else could too.

Joel was just looking out for you. That’s what he tells himself. It’s not the whole truth though. Not with the way he finds reasons, excuses, to stop by. Water, beer, batteries he doesn’t need. Like it’s not your face that slips up behind his eyelids when he finally lays down in his bed and his dick gets hard. Messy hair, paint chipped fingernails, and red lipstick that somehow looks out of place, too much for a girl who works at CVS, but perfect on you.

Yeah, Joel felt like a perv. Every time. He felt guilty, until the night he found out you were just as depraved as him.

—

Joel could feel that familiar itch as he drove home tonight. It snuggled up close and warm behind his belly button. Desire seemed to drag its nails along Joel’s bones, sharp and simmering.

You weren’t supposed to be working tonight.

It was his chance to buy what he needed.

Neon letters shine bright as hell across the parking lot, reflecting off the leftover puddles of rain. Joel strolls in with heavy boots.

Walking through those automatic doors always felt strange. There was a certain air about a CVS. Just like gas stations in the middle of the night or washed out grocery stores with squeaky floors.

Eerily clean and tidy. CVSs feel like stepping into the back rooms, always looking frozen in time. Carpet thin and stiff and always freshly vacuumed. Even without the lines, anyone could smell the burning plastic of that dinosaur they made you push around.

It’s empty in here. Only the sound of his steps and the low hum of electricity follow Joel throughout the store. He sinks his fingers into the cut out on a case of beer, hauls it around end caps stacked with candy and graduation teddy bears. Joel doesn’t stop till he gets to a certain isle.

He isn’t weird about it. Joel’s a grown ass man. Hell, teetering the line of old. This isn’t the first time he’s bought adult products before. His eyes trail over the different packages of lube, flicker over to the condoms.

He could call someone. There’s a few old numbers buried down a list in his phone. Joel doesn’t want that though. Doesn’t want the cheap corny banter, the glasses of wine he’d have to force down or the small talk.

Joel wants fast and dirty.

But that wasn’t happening…

“You can’t go wrong with KY.”

Joel jumps out of his skin, whips around at the sound of your voice. Your voice.

He stares. The red company polo shirt is one size too big, baggy on you. A messy fraying braid sweeps over your shoulder, beat to hell chucks on your feet. Red lipstick.

You weren’t supposed to be working tonight.

Joel’s voice comes out a little flat, like he’s confused. He is. He ask, “What?”

You laugh a little, nodding towards the shelves and explaining, “KY Jelly’s brand. It’s a classic for a reason.”

You keep talking when Joel doesn’t, even when he turns back around to look at the too many boxes. His brain is rebooting.

“We have other stuff too. Toys. They’re mostly for women though. Vibrators and bunnies. They’d be a great surprise for any girl.”

“There’s no girl.”

Joel’s eyes are on you again. His reply comes too fast, a little harsh. He clears his throat and tries again.

“There’s no girl. I was just here for uh..”

He trails off after nodding towards the lube, looks to the carpeted floor. Too many images and words flash through his brain. He damn well just admitted he’s planning on going home to jerk off.

When you giggle, Joel looks up again. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard in his life. Like peaches and graham cracker pie crust. Sweet tea in red plastic cups. There’s a soft pink hue painting your cheeks and a smile on your face.

“Still got a lot of options. Lots of couples like the warming gels but they can be just as much fun..alone. Just depends on what you like, and if you’re using a toy that calls for a certain base. Water. Silicone.”

Your eyes come back to Joel. There’s a teasing tone to your words, and it makes Joel wanna laugh. Just the fact that you’re standing here teaching him about lube like he’s not fifteen years your senior. He shouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t poke or extend this conversation any further.

“What do you recommend?”

Too late. He watches as the pretty pink color deepens on the high points of your cheeks, how your eyelashes flutter at the question, at the way his voice dips low. You lift a hand and flick at the tab of an empty row.

“Personally, Astroglide,” you say with a shrug, trying to act casual.

Joel hums, liking the way you squirm. Silence stretches between you for a long moment. When you speak again, it’s not what Joel expects.

“I’m sure we have more in the back. It’s just - I won’t be able to reach the box it’s in. If you wanna follow me, we can get it for you.”

Joel knows he shouldn’t. Knows it’s a bad fucking idea. Even with that glint in your eye, that tone in your voice, Joel doesn’t let his mind go there.

He does follow you though. Sets the case of beer by the hall that leads to the bathroom, employee break room. Your ratty sneakers come to a stop in front of another plain, boring colored door. The tension is palpable as you slide a key into the lock.

The room is dark when the door swings open, until you flip a switch that bathes the small space in a dimmer fluorescent lighting. You step in and Joel follows, eyes running along the shelves of big boxes with peeling labels. He still believes you, still thinks he’s just here to reach what you can’t and he’ll just buy the lube you recommended, go home and become a bigger pervert than ever.

That’s the last thought he has before the air is knocked from him. Before you’re on him. Your hands shove him backwards, tripping him up by surprise, his boots stumbling. Joel’s back slams into the smooth surface of the door, closing it. Your mouth is on his, greedy and fast.

It takes Joel a second to process what’s happening. Your warm lips on his, tiny kitten nails scratching at his neck and beard. You pull at him, straining on your tippy toes to even reach his mouth. Joel groans low and filthy when you sink your sharp teeth into his bottom lip.

That’s when he grabs your face, pushing you away. He doesn’t let go though. His fingers dig into the bones of your jaw, what Joel would normally claim just shy of too hard, but you lean into it.

“What are you doing?”

It’s a deep whisper. His eyes find yours. Wild and wide, eager but scared. Joel growls when you don’t respond, gets in your face and actually jerks you a little.

He ask again, meaner this time, “What the fuck are you doing?”

You gasp, “I - I don’t know. I just wanted..I thought..”

“Thought what? Huh?”

Joel’s chest heaves, and you sink those cute nails into his forearm and whimper. Red lipstick smeared across your mouth, cheeks pushed together and fattened by Joel’s grip. You whimper and Joel’s mind breaks.

“I just thought..there’s a gas station across the street, Joel..’n probably fourteen more between here and your house..but you stop here…I - I wanted..”

That’s all it takes. The way you call him out so softly and confess in the same breath. Joel doesn’t let himself think twice. You want him. You’ve known he wants you. It’s the last thread pulled, the first domino pushed. Joel’s mouth captures yours.

The kiss isn’t gentle or sweet. It’s all teeth and the rough scrape of Joel’s beard. Joel keeps up the pace you set when you first jumped him, just guides that eager little fire of yours with more finesse. He squeezes your jaw, pops that pretty mouth open and licks into it.

You taste like sour candy. The kind that’s coated in that granular jaw stingy sugary powder. Joel licks it from your teeth, sucks the taste of it from your tongue. He won’t pull away. Just pushes deeper into the feeling of his lungs tightening and burning.

That rushing relief, the first gasp of cool air filling his chest comes when you just drop. Ungraciously and hard. Joel hears the way your knees knock against the floor. It takes Joel by surprise, wants to assume you’ve just slipped, but that’s impossible with the way your fingers start ripping at the worn leather belt around his waist.

Joel doesn’t get a chance to speak. Not before you’re untucking his shirt, shoving it up his belly. Your wet mouth slides over his skin, fingers still pulling and parting denim. You look up at him then. Eyes blown, you huff, “Need to suck your cock, Joel.”

Something deep in his guts kick, dick jerking hard in his pants. He’s leaking already. Joel groans loudly, head falling back against the door with a thud. An angry growl slips from his throat when you yank his jeans and briefs the rest of the way down. You’re fucking desperate, not even giving him a minute to undress.

Joel reaches down, winding your braid around his fist and tugging your neck back. Dark eyes and meaner words fall from his mouth, “Fuck..look at you..”

But you’re not looking at Joel anymore, not in the eyes anyway. Yours, glassy and glazed over, are locked on the cock bobbing in front of your face. Joel’s. Thicker than he is long. Six and a half, but heavy. Dark at the base, a pretty mauve shaded tip. Wet. Pretty balls too, covered in the corse hair of Joel’s pubes. He’s bushy but trimmed. There’s a few grays peeking through and you downright fucking salivate at the sight. You don’t look scared. You look hungry and it makes Joel’s blood pump faster, something angry and dark shuffling beneath the rug in his mind.

Joel grabs himself, watches your face as you watch the way he strokes his length. Root to tip. That look in your eyes, like you need his dick to breathe, breeds a need to ruin you within Joel. He doesn’t ask but he doesn’t need to tell you either. Your jaw is already falling open, mouth wide. With a tight grip on your hair, he tilts his hips forward, resting the leaking tip against your bottom lip.

“Whore,” Joel whispers, spits.

You whine. It only makes you wetter, more desperate, Joel’s meanness. You pull against the tight grasp on your braid as you try to fall onto his cock. Joel gives. He lets go and it’s instant, the wet heat of your mouth, He can’t stop himself from pushing deep, giving a single hard thrust sooner than you’re ready for. The sounds of your choking are filthy. Cheeks bulging, muscles constricting when Joel’s tip punches the back of your throat.

“Fuuuck,” Joel growls. He lets up, lets you use the added spit to set your own pace. Trails of mulberry red mark the skin of his cock as your lips slide. You knock his hand away, fingers slipping around the width, stroking in time with the bobs of your head. It’s rhythmic and messy, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth, soaking every inch of Joel and his balls, your chin.

You push down hard. Nose buried in the hair at the base, choking yourself, letting Joel feel and hear the way you gag around him. For the first time, the sound he makes is broken and strangled. “Shit..shit shit shit,” Joel gasp.

He pulls on the root of your braid, having to use actual force to pull you off. He’s too close too soon and you’re not letting up. It’s messy when he does pull out completely. Spit links the two of you together, and Joel grabs himself again, smacking your right cheek, and then your left.

It’s dirty and mean, the way he starts thrusting against your face, like you’re just there for him to grind his dick against something. You can’t hold back the whine that slips free, your pussy pulsing in time with your heartbeat. The sound of his voice draws you back.

Joel grunts, tip gliding over your mouth. His voice comes out heavy, “Fuck..you like this, don’t you?”

Your answer is the way your eyes find his, your tongue slipping out flat. Joel’s cock jerks in his hand. He groans, slapping his length against your tongue, leaving it coated and sticky.

You slowly close your lips around the head again, taking it no further. The view Joel has is pure sin. Your eyes never leave his, filled with a fake sweetness and complete obedience as you suckle on the tip like it’s candy.

“Fuck..don’t..don’t look at me like that,” Joel rasp.

You simply hum around him, keeping your wide glassy eyes on his, tongue flickering over the nerve beneath the head. Joel gasp. He snaps.

Joel leans down instantly, large hands engulfing your cheeks, mouth sealing over yours as he drags you to your unsteady feet.

“Let me fuck you. Please let me fuck you,” Joel begs against your lips. He doesn’t mind the taste of himself, the pre or spit.

He spins you, placing your back to his chest. Joel’s teeth bite down on your neck, stinging. He purrs in your ear, “Let me fuck you, pretty girl.”

You whine from your already sore throat, “Joel..I want to but I didn’t..I haven’t shaved.”

Joel could laugh. He really could. He takes that want of yours as a yes and slips his hand down your pants. His fingertips meet soft hair, brushing over the lips of your pussy until he’s cupping it in his big palm. Joel noses at your ear, voice rough, “You think I care about this?”

“I don’t give a fuck about this,” Joel whispers, fingers teasingly running over your pubes, the seam of your slit without ever dipping in. You whine, skin burning hot. Joel bites down again before he ask, “You gonna give me what’s mine, baby? Can I fuck this sweet little cunt?”

“Yes, yes yes,” you gasp. Your head falls back, mouth open when he finally finally dips those calloused fingers into you. Soaked. Drenched. Joel groans, dragging it from your opening to your clit. That sticky cream coats the hair on your lips, making a mess between your legs.

Before you can blink, Joel’s dragging everything down. When he stands back up behind you, he’s pushing the material of your company shirt up, yanking the thin scrape of lace that is your bralette down. The tiny mounds of your breast are exposed, nipples hard. Barely a handful but Joel squeezes them all the same, wets his fingers and tweaks your nipples until you’re squeaking.

“I could feed off these, couldn’t I, baby? Suck on these pretty tits until they’re leaking? Milk you every morning?”

Joel chuckles behind you. His dirty words are a distraction as he lines himself up. In the next breath, he’s shoving in, punching the air from your lungs and every thought from your mind. A ragged scream. Kitten nails digging deep enough to leave marks. Joel’s thick cock stretches your pussy to the max, bulging your belly.

He has to pause, balls sitting snug against your ass. It’s too good. Too warm, too soft. The gummy walls of your cunt suck Joel’s cock straight to the hilt, like she finally got what she needs, and she’s not letting go. Nasty thoughts flash through Joel’s mind.

BreedherBreedherBreedher.

He shakes his head, gives those cute tits a squeeze and runs his palm down your sternum, watching the blissed out struggle on your face. He hums sweetly, “Breathe baby, breathe.”

You do. A guttural shaky one, but you do. When Joel feels you relax, he leans in, licking and kissing along your jaw. Eyes half closed, you eventually melt into Joel’s embrace.

His next words are a contradiction. Soft and tender, but words that promise the opposite. Joel whispers, “Listen to me..’m..’m not gonna be gentle. Alrigh? I need you fast and hard..rough. I need to wreck this cunt. Need you screamin’. Gimme me a word. One word. If you say it, we stop.”

Your mind whirls. You hiccup softly, “Cinnamon.”

Joel hums, kissing your jaw again. “Alrigh’. You say cinnamon, we what..?”

“We stop,” you answer instantly.

A laugh vibrates from Joel’s chest, bleeds in through your back. His smile is sharp.

“Good girl.”

It’s the last soft moment between you. That last kiss to your skin was a switch flipping. Joel quickly spins you around, shoving you over a large stack of boxes. They’re steady, filled with heavy computer paper and placing your pretty cunt at the perfect level.

The snap of his hips is instant. Earth shattering. You’d scream if you could. Fingers scrambling, clutching. You can’t find a good grip with the way Joel has you thrown over the boxes. You feel like a rag doll, limp and shaky, just something warm and wet for him to use.

A sharp slap to your ass triggers that desperate inhale of air. You finally scream, choked and broken, mixing with the steady sound of Joel’s moans. He doesn’t slow down, only growls above the sound of his hips slamming into yours, “This what you wanted? My fat cock splitting this pretty cunt open?”

“Yesyes yes Joel, fuck..wanted it,” you cry.

Another slap to your ass, a harsh tug to one your nipples. A groan comes deep from Joel’s belly. “Fuckin’ dirty girl..dreamin’ about your pussy gettin’ used?”

Joel feels the way you squeeze his dick. He laughs. His thrusts only speed up, pushing more broken sounds from your mouth. Joel watches the way he bullies his cock into your pussy, and how she just takes it. Already puffy and swollen.

He smirks, voice teasing, “She likes this..being used. Stuffed full..Tell me what you are.”

“A whore..’m a whore.”

Joel rewards you with the touch of his fingertips to your clit. He taunts you, “Who’s whore, baby? Hm? Bet you do this every shift, let just anybody see and use this little cunt?”

“No nono..jus’ you Joel..’s yours.”

Joel moans, leaning over your back. His free fingers find your nipples. He chuckles again, voice sweetly mocking, words mean. “These cute little mosquito bites mine too, baby?”

Shame rolls through your belly. You nod, face burning, eyes watering. Joel’s fingers haven’t stopped tracing sweet circles on your clit. Your release comes suddenly, skipping like a pebble over the lake of fire in your belly and crashing into you.

“Fuckfuckkfuck,” you sob. The first tears fall.

Joel gasp brokenly, forehead falling to your shoulder. The aftershocks of your orgasm, each flutter of your walls, it kicks Joel closer to the edge. He barely gets out, “Fuck fuck ‘m gonna cum..where?”

“Inside,” you whisper.

That almost breaks Joel. His hips stutter mid thrust, balls pulling tight. “Baby..I can’t. Can’t..”

“Cum inside me, Joel. Pleasepleaseplease please cum in-inside me,” you cry, more tears spilling hot and fast. The sight ruins him. Your tears, the tight grip of your sore pussy. Joels body decides for him, decides that dumping a load in your young cunt can be a problem, a ghost to haunt his conscience, for another day. He thrust deep and cums hard, balls pumping, painting your tender walls white and thick.

You both stay still for a long time, exhausted bodies draped over the boxes. Joel eventually lifts himself off your back. His voice comes quick though.

“Don’t move,” he says on a heavy breath. It’s only a few seconds. You hear shuffling, his belt, silence…a click. When you look back over your shoulder, Joel’s crouched down, phone level with your exposed pussy. He took a picture of your puffy cunt, his cum drooling out and soaking the cardboard you’re laying across.

The act sends your tummy flipping. You should say something, object. You don’t. The fact that Joel has a picture of your ruined pussy in his phone turns you on more than it should. The fact that he didn’t ask, the objectification, like your pussy is just free to take photos of, like your pussy belongs to him…

“Come here, sweetheart.”

His voice pulls you back to the present, those hands pulling you upright. Thighs shaking, slick running down to your ankles, Joel chuckles at the sight.

The flannel he never even took off, he takes it off now. The fabric is rough on your skin but it’s Joel’s tender wipes that keep you from protesting. He cleans you throughly, getting only a little side tracked, fingertips exploring, running through your folds again just because.

After a few tired giggles and batting Joel’s hands away, a dirty whisper that he was very serious about milking your tits, you’re both dressed again. Joel kisses you one last time before opening the supply closet door. Sweet and deep. He really looks at you, like he’s memorizing your face.

The goodbye is..other worldly. He picks up his abandoned case of beer, and with a bottle of astroglide, Joel checks out with the dirtiest, cockiest grin on his face. You watch as Joel walks out of the automatic doors before locking them. He’s all you can think about as you close for the night, him and the last little bit of his cum leaking out of you.

-

(I’m sorry this took so long!! I’m finishing up my summer classes so I’ve been drowning in test and essays. Hope you guys like this. Should have a shorter Tommy fic soon, and other chapter fics will be updated. 🫶🏼)

[bemyluvr]

Crazy On You

preoutbreak!joel | jackson!joel

Okay, can’t stop thinking about preoutbreak!joel, young, hot and messy. Compared to jackson!joel, old, sappy and romantic, and their favorite sex positions.

cw: MDNI 18+, brief dad!Joel, pet names, rough sex, low-key mean!joel, backshots, doggy style, reader has enough fat to grab, spit, pull out method, dacryphillia, p n v, vaginal fingering, old man angst, dry humping, romantic smut, multiple orgasms, age gap, creampie, cock warming

wc: 2k

preoutbreak!joel

Being young and in love, you both move fast, date nights and road trips quickly become sleepovers and late night talks about the future together, your relationship quickly turns into something serious.

With Joel it’s easy, a true southern gentleman, he takes care of you. Cherishing the ground you walk on, he’s intense and loving with you.

He’s not just a man dating for fun anymore, he’s intentional, being a devoted father to a baby girl. As her sole guardian, he gives her his all, if he’s not working, he’s spending time with her.

The three of you create a new life together, routines become easy, watching him be a dad makes you love him even more.

Joel is always happy to get time alone with you, whether it’s quickies in the morning before the alarm goes off, or showering together, you two make it work.

Navigating between your busy schedules is hard but you make it work, so when Joel surprises you with a weekend home alone, you make the most of it.

After an expensive dinner and too much wine, you stumble into the dark house, giggling as your hand runs against the wall, unable to find the light switch. Joel’s right behind you, pushing his hips into you from behind, feeling his growing erection.

He runs sloppy kisses down your exposed back, as his hand fumbles with the zipper on your dress, eager to feel you.

“Shhh, you whisper, turning around to face him with a finger over your lips.

Moonlight catches against his features, as he takes your hand from your mouth as he brings it up to his own, pressing kisses from your fingertips to your wrist.

“We can be as loud as we want, baby, got this whole place to ourselves.” Joel, asserts as he kisses your lips.

Standing there as the kiss deepens, Joel’s hands linger down to grip your ass cheeks, he pulls back, peeling the dress off of your frame, leaving you standing there, in a pair of lace panties.

“All this for me huh?” He tuts, raking his eyes up and down your frame, groping your exposed breasts.

Your nipples harden against his touch, as he reaches down to grip your ass in his hand.

Suddenly, you push him backwards as he falls onto the couch, straddling his thighs as you kiss his neck, your lips run down his chest as you unbutton his shirt. Joel helps, pulling his arms through the rest of the fabric, you begin to sink down to the floor, unbuttoning his belt.

“We’ve got all weekend honey, need to be inside you.” Joel confesses, grabbing your hands to help you stand up.

Joel twirls you around, pushing your front into the soft cushion of the couch as he massages the globes of your ass. You welcome it, pushing into the couch, you arch against his hand allowing him more access as he slides the lace off your cunt.

He runs his fingers down your slit, collecting your slick as he pushes two fingers inside, stretching you out.

Groaning, you push back onto his hand, as he begins to scissor his fingers in and out of you.

“Joel, need your cock,” you mewl, turning your head back towards him as he removes his hand, sucking the juices off his fingers.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he growls, as he tastes you on his tongue.

Joel unbuttons his pants, allowing his cock to spring forward as he spits, pumping the slick down his cock with his hand. You look back at him again, as he jerks off to your spread pussy.

Lining up at your entrance, he runs the tip against your clit, circling the nub you whine, pushing your ass toward him.

“Patience baby,” he drawls, as he grips your hip, inserting himself into your folds.

Without warning, Joel doesn’t allow you to get used to his size, setting a brutal pace against the inside of you. The tip grazes your cervix with each trust, causing you to fall farther onto the couch, trying to wiggle out of his grip.

“Where do you think your goin’ baby?” He questions, leaning over your body, his hand pulls your back upwards into his chest, “you wanted to get fucked so bad, so take it.”

Tears prick your eyes as you feel him destroy you, the pain turning into pleasure as you throw your hips back to meet his thrusts.

It’s not too often for Joel to be behind you like this, hips slamming back and forth into the fat of your thighs.

He loves to make love to you, make you feel as good as you deserve, but there is something special to bend you over like this, watching your ass shake against him is secretly his favorite place to be.

To hear you cry, getting fucked stupid against his cock is his favorite song. As he feels his orgasm approach, he reaches around your front, thick fingers finding your clit to build you closer to the edge.

“Fuck Joel, stay right there-shit just like that.” You gargle out, feeling the euphoria in your gut.

“Gonna cum for me? Don’t be shy darlin’, wanna hear it.” Joel grunts in your ear.

You feel the rubberband snap as you cum hard, vision blurry as you blackout, as Joel holds you up. After a couple more thrusts, Joel pulls out his cock, jerking it in his hand as his cum paints your back. You feel the warm liquid run down your spine as you fall onto the couch breathless.

Joel doesn’t say a word as he walks off, grabbing a warm wash rag, he comes up behind you and begins to clean himself off of you.

“Sorry honey, got a little carried away there,” Joel murmurs, kissing your shoulder blade.

You don’t respond as you lay there, allowing him to take care of you, happy to have him to yourself the rest of the weekend.

jackson!joel

The trauma seeps deep through Joel, older and greyer, he’s a broken hearted man. The loss and betrayal has hardened him into a stubborn, mentally closed off shell of his past self. Beneath the surface, Joel longs and he’s desperate for love. He doesn’t want someone to try and fix him, he wants someone to meet him halfway.

He believes he’s not a good man, the things he’s dealt with in his past to survive shows that, and no one can change that. Joel just desires to be understood, wanting someone who sees through his silence, to stay, not pity him.

Meeting you, his layers slowly become undone. Joel was untrusting at first, with the whispers in town about him being a killer distanced himself even further with the community, he feared you felt bad for him.

You were just some young, kind girl with bright eyes and a gentle grin, you were full of something he didn’t quite understand yet. You never try to fix him or fill the silence, instead you sit with him, listening without judgment. You see the man he once was before, seeing the man behind the anger and hurt. You make him feel alive, and for the first time in years, he cherishes it.

The years haven’t been the kindest on his body, and he wished he could provide more for you in the bedroom. Although you never complain, his body aches to take you how he would have twenty-something years ago. Joel loves being as close as possible to you, breathing in your skin, with you riding his cock into the early mornings.

It started out as a one time thing, during late night conversations as he holds you in his lap, stroking your hair. As you begin to relax on his knees, your panty-clad ass grinds perfectly against his sweatpants.

Joel adjusts himself, feeling his boxers tighten, hips accidentally bucking into yours.

Suddenly, you stop in the middle of your sentence, words unable to fall out of your mouth.

You're breathless as a moan slips out, looking up to him and he's already looking at you.

Joel tests the waters, kissing your plump lips as he takes your hips into large hands, gently rocking them back and forth.

You both groan at the sensation, thin fabrics rub against another as you soak through your underwear. At first you allow him to lead you, resting your head against his chest, you melt into his touch, allowing the sensation to build inside your tummy every time his tip hits your clit. But, you become antsy, grinding your hips into his faster, guiding the pace exactly how you want it.

Whimpers fall from your mouth as you feel the fuzzy feeling in your stomach, grinding harder into him as he snakes his hands into your t-shirt. He’s touching every part of your skin and it makes you dizzy.

His cock is stained through his pants, hard and aching against your slick as you chase your high.

Joel’s fingers slip to your breast, pinching your nipple between the digits, the pleasure going straight to your clit. You feel your orgasm approaching, rutting against him like an animal, you lift your head to stare at him.

“Take it, you have me.” Joel puffs, watching you like the prettiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

You scream, orgasm crashing through your body as you grip his shoulders, Joel allows you to ride it out, panting against you.

Suddenly, you look down at the mess you made, feeling Joel’s rock hard cock against your butt, you look up to him, “want me to take care of that?” You question, slipping your hand into the material, “you deserve to feel good too.”

Joel groans, feeling like he’s the luckiest man alive as you fumble him out of his pants.

“You’re too good t’ me,” he exhales, running a rough hand up against the small of your back.

As his cock springs up to his belly, you maneuver your hand down to your panties, moving them to the side as you stare down at his red tip.

Joel takes himself into his hand, swiping a thump over the precum glazed tip, he rubs it against your soaked folds.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you jolt, mewling at the feeling against your swollen clit.

You raise your hips to help him stuff himself inside of you, hissing at the sensation as you sink down on him.

“Taking me so well honey,” Joel groans, hips faltering as he tries to contain himself.

Adjusting to his size your hips start up again, rocking back and forth against the fullness, you feel stuffed. “Wanna feel you cum,” you groan, chasing his release, forgetting about your own pleasure.

You start to slam down against his hips, walls clenching against his member, you feel his body stutter against yours.

“Prettiest girl in Jackson, taking care of her old man, yeah?” He grunts, lifting his hips to match yours.

You are a groaning mess, feeling the familiar warmth in your stomach, you stabilize yourself against him, putting a hand to his chest.

“Don’t think I can last much longer darlin’, gonna cum inside, keep you warm, always gonna take care of you, right honey?” Joel says, gripping the fat of your waist.

You move together seamlessly, you can’t tell when Joel ends and you begin as you both chase each other's highs.

Curses fall from your mouth, as Joel groans against you, and suddenly your second orgasm hits. Throwing your head back, you rock your hips into his, riding out your orgasm as Joel comes right behind you, thick ropes spurting inside of your cunt.

You don’t move, sitting against him you allow him to go soft inside of you, plugging his seed into your abdomen. Leaning back, he lays down with you on top of him, and he stays inside of you the rest of the night.

This becomes your typical position, holding each other close as you help another get off, and you wouldn’t want him any other way.

[millermami]

for a good time, call…| jm

pairing: contractor!joel miller x phone sex operator! reader

summary: turns out your favorite client, mr. miller, was also renovating your parents kitchen.

warnings: phone sex, MDNI 18+, needy!joel, sub!reader, masturbation, mutual masturbation, voyeurism (slight), age!gap, pinv, FINGERING, f!reader, bossy!joel, lots of dialogue, SWEATY CONSTRUCTION JOEL, dirty talk, smut with 0 plot

word count: 7,6k ( masterlist)

a/n: just thought joel would love phone sex and had to write about it (didn’t proof read ughh!)

Joel wasn’t the kind of man who went looking for things like this. Hell, he’d barely even used his damn cell phone for more than work calls and the occasional “you need anything?” to Tommy. But work had been slow, evenings long, and his bed cold for far longer than he cared to count.

It started the way everything bad always does— by accident. He’d been working late on a kitchen remodel for an older couple across town, staying after to make sure the grout set right. When he finally packed up for the night, he was sore, tired, and just needed something to take his mind off the gnawing quiet of home.

Stopped at a corner store on the way back— needed smokes, a drink, maybe a snack. That’s when he saw it. A little card by the register. Neon pink with black print. “Lonely tonight? Call now.” The girl on the front wasn’t real— he could tell. Too glossy, too airbrushed. But the number was real. He thought. He’d shoved it in his back pocket without thinking.

That night, the house was too still. He sat in his recliner, TV on low, beer sweating on the side table, thumb rubbing over the edges of that card like it was something dangerous, giving himself a little poke at the corners. He wasn’t lonely, he told himself. Just… curious. Which was probably worse.

By the time he dialed, he already felt foolish. A grown man, calling a stranger for God knows what. He almost hung up when the ring clicked over, making him freeze with the phone hovering over his ear.

“Hello,” came a warm, easy voice. Not too high, not too sugary. Like you were smiling without even meaning to.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh… this the number from the—”

“Yes, baby,” you cut in smoothly, like you’d done this a hundred times. “Do you want me to tell you how it works, or do you want to tell me what you need tonight?”

Joel’s mouth went dry. He could hear the smile in your tone. You weren’t rushing him, weren’t fake-giggling. Just… waiting.

“Not sure,” he said finally, leaning back in his chair. “Ain’t never done this before.”

“That’s alright,” you said, and God, your voice was soft. “You can just talk to me. We’ll go slow. You can tell me what you like… or I can help you figure it out.”

Something in him— the part that had been tight and knotted for months— loosened at that. Maybe he can make this work, maybe he’d like this. Maybe he needed this.

“What do I call you?” he asked.

“You don’t have to call me anything, if you don’t want,” you said. “What do you want me to call you?”

He hasn’t done this at all. Fuck. Without even fucking thinking much of it, really, he says, “Mr. Miller.” Like he has nothing to hide. But what kind of rookie mistake was that.

“Mr. Miller,” you repeated in that same soft voice, like velvet. Seductive. Thank you.

That did something to him, the hum that left him gave him away. “Alright then,” he said slowly.

“Now, Mr. Miller… what do you like? What gets you going?”

The bluntness caught him off guard. His ears went hot. “Uh—don’t really… talk about that kinda thing.”

“You’re not used to it,” you said gently, “but you can. There’s no right or wrong answer. You can be as detailed or as vague as you want. Just… tell me something.”

Joel let out a slow breath. “Guess I like… softness.”

“Softness,” you repeated, like you were tasting the word. “You mean… the way someone talks to you? Or their body?”

He thought about it, thumb rubbing the edge of the phone. “Both.”

You hummed. “What about right now, Mr. Miller? If I were in front of you, what’s the first thing you’d notice?”

His mouth went dry. “…Your mouth.”

You let out the faintest little sigh, and Joel felt it low in his gut. “Would you touch me?”

“Yeah,” he said before he could think. He hadn’t even seen you. But fuck.

“How?”

His throat bobbed. “Gentle. At first.”

You smiled in your voice. “At first.”

There was a pause, and Joel swore the silence was heavy with something that wasn’t just talk. You let it stretch before asking, “What are you doing right now?”

Joel shifted in his chair, heat prickling the back of his neck. “…Think you know.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

He huffed a laugh, low and self-conscious. “Touchin’ myself.”

“Mm. That’s good. Think about my mouth, then. Think about me on my knees for you.”

Joel’s eyes shut. The sound of your voice in his ear was more than he expected — less like a stranger, more like someone who already knew how to get inside his head. The image of someone he doesn’t quite know, on her knees in front of him. The feeling of soft hands pressed on his thighs, squeezing gently– anchoring themselves to better take his hard cock.

“You can take your time,” you murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And he did take his time. You kept him talking— little nudges, gentle questions, painting pictures in his head until his hand was moving without thought, until his breathing had gone heavy into the receiver.

When you finally whispered, “That’s it, Mr. Miller. Just like that. I want you to let go for me,” Joel bit down on a groan and came hard, shuddering in his seat.

For a moment, the line was nothing but his breath in your ear. Joel’s head was tipped back against the recliner, eyes shut, his voice rough with the kind of pleasure he hadn’t felt in years. His thick release dripping down his knuckles, making a mess all over his jeans. Then—“Goodnight, Sir,” you said softly, smirk obviously on your lips. And before he could answer, the line went to the automated payment system you had in place, leaving Joel staring at the phone while he pulled out his card from his wallet, wondering why he already wanted to hear you again.

. ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧

Joel had told himself it’d be a while before he called again. Weeks, maybe. Let it cool off. It’d been four days. He’d spent those nights trying not to think about the sound of your voice— the way you’d called him Mr. Miller, not like everyone else did. Just the way you did. Like it actually needed to be pronounced that way always.

So by the fourth night, he caved. Sat on the edge of his bed, card in hand, number already burned into his memory. The ring was shorter this time.

“Hello,” you said, voice warm like you’d been expecting him.

Joel swallowed. “Yeah… it’s me.”

A smile slid into your tone. “I know.”

That shouldn’t have hit him like it did. “That right?”

“Mhm. You sound the same— like you’re not sure if you should be calling me.”

Joel huffed a small laugh through his nose. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“But you want to.”

“…Yeah,” he admitted.

“Then let’s not waste time, Mr. Miller. What do you want tonight?”

He shifted on the mattress, rubbing the back of his neck. “You start.”

“Mm,” you hummed, “I want to tell you how wet I am for you.” The breath left him sharp. “I’ve been thinking about your voice. The way you sounded when you came for me the other night. Bet your face gets all soft when you’re close… bet your mouth parts and your eyes close real tight. I think about that while I touch myself.”

Joel groaned low— a deep, unsteady sound— hand already pressing at the front of his jeans. “Tell me what you’re wearing,” he said, voice rough.

“Black panties,” you said immediately. “They’re soaked right now. And nothing on top.”

He inhaled hard through his nose. “…Jesus.”

You smiled in your voice. “Do you want to touch me, Mr. Miller?”

“You know I do.”

“How would you do it?”

Joel shut his eyes, breathing heavier now. “Slide my hand between your thighs… thumb on your clit. Gentle at first, then harder ‘til you start whinin’ for me.”

“I’m already whining for you,” you murmured, and Joel’s head tipped back.

“Good girl,” he rasped.

You let a few beats pass before asking, “What about your cock? Is he hard for me, sir?”

Sir. Holy fuck. He grunted— deep, strained. “Yeah… fuck… he is.”

“I want you to take him out. I want you to stroke him for me. Slow.”

Joel obeyed before he could think, his hand wrapping around himself, shuddering at the contact.

“That’s it,” you coaxed. “I want to hear you. Don’t hold back for me.”

And he didn’t. His breath was rough now, his chest rising and falling faster.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” you whispered.

He swallowed hard. “Your mouth… around me.”

“Mhm. I’d suck you slow. Lick you from the base all the way to the tip… take you so deep my eyes water, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s groan cracked in the middle, his hips shifting up into his hand.

And then you fucking say, “Would you fuck my face, Mr. Miller?”

“…Christ, sugar…”

“I’d let you. I’d take every inch of you, choking on your cock while you tell me how good I am for you.”

His breathing was ragged now, the slick sound of his hand unmistakable.

“Mm, I bet you taste so good.”

He grunted. His hand pumping up and down his length faster, squeezing just that bit of precum out. His thumb flicks across his glistening bulb.

“I’d swallow every drop. I wouldn’t waste a thing. I’d be so good for you, sir.” You’re a little breathless– you know they like when you sound spent.

That tore a deep, guttural sound from him— one he didn’t even recognize as his own.

“Come for me,” you breathed. “I want to hear it.”

Joel’s fist tightened, his hips jerking, and he came hard with a broken groan into the phone. For a long moment, the line was nothing but his breath and the faint hum of your satisfaction.

“You sound so good when you let go,” you murmured. The truth. You usually lied at most men. But not this one. Not Mr. Miller.

Joel swiped a hand over his face, trying to steady his breathing. “…You’re somethin’ else.”

You laughed softly. “Goodnight, Mr. Miller.”

After hearing his payment go through , Joel sat there with the phone still to his ear, wondering if he’d make it more than a couple of days before calling again. He’d give you all of his damn money to just hear you breathe.

. ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧

By now, Joel didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t going to call. He’d learned your schedule— or maybe you’d learned his— because every time, you picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, Mr. Miller.”

His chest loosened at the sound. “Evenin’, sugar.”

“How’s my favorite caller tonight?”

He smirked faintly. “Don’t know ‘bout favorite… but I’m here.”

“You’re always my favorite,” you said easily, and Joel felt heat curl low in his gut — and not just from the words themselves. There was a pause, then you purred, “You hard for me yet, Mr. Miller?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, already palming himself. “Think you know the answer to that.”

“Mm. Take him out for me.”

He obeyed, boxers shoved down just enough, his hand wrapping around himself with a hiss of breath.

“That’s it,” you coaxed. “Stroke yourself slow. I wanna know what you’re thinking’ about.”

Joel’s head tipped back again. “Your tits,” he said, voice low. “Thinkin’ about havin’ ‘em in my hands.”

“Mmh, yeah? I’d let you squeeze ‘em, play with my nipples… would you suck them for me, sir?”

“Hell yes.” His voice was already fraying at the edges.

“I’d put your mouth to work,” you teased. “Make you suck ‘til they’re aching. Make you beg me to let you fuck me.”

Joel groaned, hips twitching. “You’re filthy.”

“That’s why you keep calling.”

“Yeah…” His breathing deepened, the slick sound of his strokes faint but steady. Then, almost casually, he asks, “What’s your name?”

You laughed softly. “You know I can’t tell you that, Sir.”

“First name. Just a first name.”

“Mm-mm. We’re not doing that,” you murmured, voice still smooth but laced with a smile. “You’ll just have to keep calling if you want to know me.”

Joel grunted. “Already do.”

You let a beat pass, then shifted the tone right back to filth. “Bet your cock’s leaking for me, isn’t it?”

He exhaled sharply. “…Yeah.”

“I’d lick it up. Run my tongue over your slit, suck you into my mouth… make you watch me swallow him.”

Joel’s groan was deep, almost a growl. “Jesus Christ.”

“Would you pull my hair while I do it?”

“Hard,” he rasped. “Hold your head still while I fuck your mouth.” His breathing heavy. He’s close.

“That’s it. Just like that, Mr. Miller. I want you to come for me.”

His strokes sped up without thought, his breath ragged in your ear until he spilled over his hand with a long, low groan. You waited until his breathing slowed before saying, softer this time, “One day, I’ll tell you my name.”

Joel blinked at the ceiling, pulse still thundering. “…Promise?”

“Mhm. But not yet. Goodnight, Mr. Miller.”

Joel sat there with a knot in his chest that wasn’t entirely about what just happened. He hadn’t meant to ask that. But god, he wanted to know so badly. Wanted to moan your name off his lips when he came. Wanted to feel how easy it would be to say it.

. ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧

Your parents’ kitchen had smelled like coffee and fresh paint, the air thick with the noise of men working. You’d barely set your bag down before you heard it— deep, gravel-warm, wrapping around your ribs like a hand you knew too well.

“Yeah, hand me that drill, would ya?”

Your breath caught. It couldn’t be. But it was. Even muffled through walls, even casual, even directed at someone else— it was him. Your favorite client. Mr. Miller. You didn’t see him. Didn’t dare peek around that corner. You just stood frozen, heart pounding, before excusing yourself early with some flimsy reason.

That night, your phone rang. Joel was sitting at his kitchen table, jeans loose around his hips, the card with your number worn soft at the edges.

You answered with a steady, “Hello, you.”

“Evenin’, sugar,” he drawled, always the same, and your stomach flipped because God, it was definitely the same voice you’d heard by daylight in your parents’ kitchen.

You forced a smile into your voice. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight.”

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he said, and you could hear him shifting— the faint scrape of a chair, the creak of wood under his weight. “Been a long day.”

“I bet it has,” you murmured. “What were you doing?”

“Workin’ on a house. Old place. Lotta repairs.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. “Did you finish?”

“Not yet. Gotta go back in the mornin’.”

You swallowed. “Bet you’re tired.”

“Tired,” he agreed, “but not too tired for this.” His breathing deepened, slow and steady. “You touchin’ yourself yet?”

Your thighs pressed together. “…Not yet.”

“Start,” he ordered, voice dropping into that tone that always made you melt.

You slid your hand down, fingers parting your folds. “Mmh… wet.”

Joel’s exhale was sharp. “Good girl. Wish I could see her. Put my fingers in you, feel how warm you are.”

Your breath hitched. “You’d like that?”

“Hell yes,” he groaned. “Push two fingers in, slow. Stretch that little pussy for me.”

You obeyed, biting back a sound that still slipped into the line.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Fuck yourself nice and slow. I wanna hear every bit of it.”

You let the wet sounds carry through the phone, and Joel’s groan cracked in the middle. “Think about me,” he said, voice rough. “Think about me right there, thumb on your clit while I fuck you with my fingers.”

Your body clenched hard around your hand. “…Fuck—.”

“Come for me, sugar.”

You did, shuddering into the receiver, and Joel let out a deep, broken moan, chasing his own, that made your head spin all over again When it was over, you were breathless, heart still racing from more than just the orgasm.

“Sleep good, sweet girl,” he murmured.

And when the line went dead, you just lay there in the dark, your body still humming, knowing you’d see him tomorrow— for real, this time.

. ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧

You smelled the coffee before you smelled the sawdust. The low hum of men’s voices drifted in from the kitchen— your father talking to someone, laughing about something. You froze in the hallway because there it was again… that voice.

“Yeah, we’ll get the backsplash up today. Should be done by the end of the week.”

Your stomach tightened. You knew that tone. Knew that slow, easy cadence and the grit in it. Last night, you’d heard it thick with need, telling you to spread your legs wider. Now it was broad daylight, grounded, businesslike— and still warm enough to slide right down your spine. You smoothed your hair, took a breath, and stepped into the kitchen.

Your father looked up first. “Morning, sweetheart. Mr. Miller and his crew are here renovating our kitchen.”

And there he was. The man whose name you don’t know. The man who’s been paying you to get him off over the phone. The man you begged to come for you a few nights ago. Joel– Mr. Miller.

Broad shoulders under a faded flannel, work jeans worn white at the knees, a rag in one big hand. You’re mesmerized. Nothing at all what you envisioned. Handsome. Dear fucking god, so handsome. He straightened when he saw you — not because he recognized you (he didn’t, not yet) but because… damn. You were pretty. More than pretty. Something in his chest gave a little pull he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Joel,” your father said, “this is my daughter.”

Joel’s hand twitched before he set the rag down and stepped forward. “Nice to meet you,” he said, his voice a touch lower, his posture straighter, like he needed to square up in front of you.

You slid your hand into his— warm, calloused, strong— and looked him right in the eye. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Miller.”

Something flickered in his gaze at the way you said it — maybe pride, maybe something darker. Every hair on his arms stood on end. He knew that voice.

Knew the way you let Mister slide like a tease. Knew the lilt at the end, the hint of a smile curling around the words. It was you. The girl who’d made him groan into the phone six times in the last month. The girl who’d told him, in that same sweet tone, that she’d take his cock down her throat until her eyes watered. And you were… young. You couldn’t be more than twenty-five. Jesus Christ.

His hands were big and warm around yours, mind scrambled. Images he’d only ever built in his head flashing in real life— except you were smaller, prettier, softer than he’d imagined. But you knew. Oh, you knew. The faint squeeze of his palm, the way his eyes darted over your face like he was matching the sound of you to the sight of you.

“I’m sorry,” he’s watching you intently, “didn’t catch your name.” There it was. Fuck, this guys good. He watches your lips curl into a small smile, cheeks blushing. You tell him. He repeats it, nodding almost as if he’s confirming the thoughts he had– yes, it sounds like he’s supposed to say your name. Sounds like it belongs to him. And it’s true, you hearing your name fall from his lips, it’s perfect. And you begin to wonder why the hell you hadn’t told him sooner. To make him tell you who exactly he’s cumming for.

Joel released your hand slower than he should have, rubbing his palm against his thigh, like maybe he could wipe away the memory of how you’d sounded moaning his title into the phone.

“Joel’s the best in town,” your father went on. “We’re lucky to have him.”

Joel shrugged, but his eyes kept finding yours, like he couldn’t quite help it. “Just doin’ my job.”

Your father kept talking, but Joel barely heard him. His first clear thought in that haze was dangerous and heavy: Christ, she’s even prettier than I pictured. His second was worse: I’m in trouble. And you? You smiled sweetly, Oh yeah. You need him.

Your father moved toward the coffeepot, talking about tile colors, but Joel barely heard him. He had a pencil in one hand, a clipboard in the other, and his brain was still back on the moment you’d said Mr. Miller in that sweet little voice— the exact same voice that had purred Yes, Sir into his ear more times than he could count.

He bent to check the edge of the countertop, mostly so he wouldn’t have to look at you, but his eyes found you anyway— leaning against the doorframe, watching him with a polite smile that he could already tell was trouble. You didn’t speak, but your eyes said everything– I know you know.

He shifted his weight, straightening up, rolling his shoulders like he needed to remind himself to breathe. “We’ll have the backsplash prepped by this afternoon,” he said to your dad, voice even, hands steady. But the second he glanced your way again, that steadiness frayed.

You tilted your head, eyes dropping briefly– deliberately, on his work belt sling around his waist, then back up at him with that little smirk he’s heard behind the phone more often than not. Joel’s grip on the pencil tightened.

Your father handed him a mug of coffee, oblivious. “You take sugar?”

Joel shook his head. “Black’s fine.” He took a sip, burning his tongue, and set it down harder than necessary.

You stayed quiet, almost prim, as you walked to the counter where he stood marking measurements. “Need help with anything?” you asked lightly.

Joel’s jaw ticked. “Nah. We got it handled.”

But your father piped up behind you. “You can hand him those brackets, sweetheart— top of the box over there.”

You crossed in front of Joel, close enough that he caught the faint scent of your shampoo, and bent slightly to grab the hardware. He looked away, but his ears burned.

“Here you go, Mr. Miller.” You handed him the brackets, your fingers brushing his just a little too long.

He swallowed. “Thanks.”

Your smile was polite for your dad’s sake, but Joel saw the glint underneath— the same glint he’d heard in your voice when you told him you’d lick him clean. He turned back to his work before anyone could notice the way his breathing had gone deeper. His mind betraying him, putting a face to all those words you’ve told him. He’s dying. Dying to fucking talk to you. Touch you. And he will, even if it kills him.

. ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧

You were waiting for it. You’d been waiting since the moment you walked out of that kitchen and left Joel standing there with a handful of brackets like he didn’t know which way was up. The phone rang late— later than usual. Almost as if he was fighting with himself if he should call you or not. Or maybe it was embarrassment. That maybe you thought he was too old for you and maybe you thought it was digusting and you’d probably not answer. But the way you looked at him? He couldn’t deny that.

You answered slow. “Hi, Joel.”

Silence for a beat. Then, that low voice, he says your name, “fits you.”

You smiled against the receiver. “Told you I’d tell you my name someday.”

You could hear him breathing, heavier than usual, and imagined him sitting in the dark, elbows on his knees, phone tight in his hand. T-shirt tight around his biceps. That scruff on his face, jaw tight. Those brown eyes dark with lust.

“You didn’t tell me you were…” He trailed off, exhaling hard. “…younger than I thought.”

“How young did you think I was?” you teased.

“Old enough I didn’t feel like a fuckin’ pervert.”

“Mmh.” You shifted on the bed, letting your voice go silkier. “So now you do?”

“Don’t start,” he warned, but his tone was already slipping.

“You stood up straighter for me today,” you said. “Shook my hand like you wanted me to think you were impressive or something.. I noticed.”

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was a faint groan in it. He dragged his palm down his face.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, Mr. Miller,” you whispered. “About how big your hands looked holding those tools. About how they’d feel between my thighs.”

Joel inhaled sharply. “Jesus Christ…”

“Do you want to know what I did when you left?”

“Yeah.”

“I got in the shower… and I touched myself. Thought about you behind me, work jeans still on, pulling my hips back onto you. That handsome face watching me come undone for you.”

He let out a sound that was more growl than groan. “Fuck… keep talkin’.”

“I pictured you telling me to keep quiet so my dad wouldn’t hear. One hand over my mouth, the other on my clit while you fuck me.”

Joel’s breathing had gone ragged now, his faint grunts carrying through the phone. “You dirty little thing.”

“You’d like that though, wouldn’t you? Getting me all messy while we’re just a room away from my parents.”

His groan cracked. “Goddamn it—” The thought of that getting him even harder than he’d thought.

“Are you touching yourself for me, Joel?”

“…Yeah.” His voice came out breathless. The way you say his name wrecks him.

“Faster. I want you to come for me thinking about bending me over your workbench in the garage.”

That did it. His moan came deep and rough, drawn out until his breathing slowed, the silence stretching between you.

“You’re trouble,” he said finally, voice low.

“You like trouble, Mr. Miller.” He didn’t deny it.

. ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧

It was late again when your phone lit up with Mr. Miller in your mind.

You smiled as you answered, stretching out in bed. “Joel.”

“Didn’t see you today.”

The way he said it— low, almost accusing— made your smile widen. “Oh? Were you looking for me?”

Joel grunted softly. “Maybe.”

“Maybe you missed me.”

“…Maybe,” he admitted after a beat, voice rasping like he didn’t like being caught.

You rolled onto your stomach, twirling the cord of your phone charger between your fingers. Little butterflies. “Well, that’s sweet.”

“You around tomorrow?”

“Nope,” you said lightly. “I’m already home.”

“…Home?”

“Mhm. I don’t live there. Out of state, actually.”

There was a pause, a low sound in his throat that almost sounded like a frown. “So when’s the next time I’ll see you?”

Your grin turned wicked. “Oh, you wanna see me, Mr. Miller?”

His inhale was sharp. “…Yeah. I do.”

“What do you wanna see me do?” you asked, voice soft and dangerous.

“Christ…” He let the word drag, like he was chewing on the thought. “Wanna see you smile like you did yesterday. Wanna see those pretty eyes lookin’ right at me while you—”

“While I what?”

Joel’s breath came heavier now. “While you’re sittin’ on my lap, skirt pushed up, no panties on.”

You bit your lip, letting a beat pass before murmuring, “You’d like that?”

“More than like it,” he said, voice dropping, “I’d fuckin’ need it.” Then a pause. “How old are you?”

You smiled into the receiver. “Why do you wanna know?”

“Just… curious.”

“Old enough, Mr. Miller.”

“Yeah, but how old?”

“Twenty-four.”

There was a quiet grunt on the other end, followed by a long breath. Then you say,“Is that a problem?”

“Problem?” His voice dipped lower. “No. Just means I should be careful with you.”

You laughed softly. “Careful? Who says I like careful?”

He shifted, you could hear the faint creak of a chair. “Do your folks know what you’re up to?”

“Mmm… no.”

Joel exhaled slowly, the sound thick. “I wanna see you.”

Your pulse skipped. “And do what, handsome?”

“Things I can’t do over the phone,” he said, voice gone rough. “Things I’ve been thinkin’ about since I saw you in that kitchen.”

You let the silence stretch, your tone almost playful when you answered, “I don’t usually sleep with my callers.”

He made a low sound— something between a groan and a chuckle. “Yeah?”

“But…” you went on, softer now, “I might make an exception for you.”

Joel’s breath caught, his voice dropping to a rasp. “…Careful, sugar. You keep talkin’ like that and I’ll be in my truck before the night’s over.”

And you felt it. That familiar ache. You have a crush. And when he called you again, it confirmed it. It was only two nights later when your phone buzzed with that familiar number.

“Joel,” you said sweetly.

“Been thinking about that exception you said you’d make.”

You smiled. “Oh? Losing sleep over it?”

“Maybe.” His voice was heavy. “Figure if I’m gonna do this… I oughta know the rules.”

“The rules,” you repeated, leaning back against your pillows. “Alright, Mr. Miller. Let’s talk terms.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Terms.”

“Mhm. First one— you do exactly what I say when we’re together.”

Joel grunted. “You think you can boss me around?”

“I don’t think, sir,” you teased. “I know.”

A beat of silence, then: “…Alright. What else?”

“If you do it right…” You let your voice slow, silk over steel, “I’ll pay you.”

Joel actually laughed — that deep, warm rumble you’d never heard from him before. You heart fluttered. “Pay me?”

“Mhm. Contractor rates, even. You are the best in town, after all.”

“You’re trouble,” he said, but you could hear the grin in it. “And what if I don’t want your money?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to make sure I can’t stop thinking about you,” you murmured.

There was a pause, then his voice dropped. “You put me on a job like that, I’ll work you over ‘til you can’t walk straight.”

“That’s the idea,” you whispered.

Joel exhaled like he was picturing it right then. “When?”

You hummed, letting him hang for a moment. “Soon. If you’re good.”

“Baby…” his voice was low, almost dangerous now, “you have no idea how good I can be.”

. ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧

You spotted him before he spotted you.

Joel was out by the back porch, leaning against the railing, talking easy with your dad — one hand curled around a bottle, the other resting in his pocket. The golden evening light hit him just right, making the silver in his hair gleam, his flannel stretched across his shoulders. You stepped outside, all smiles. “Hey, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to you, just for a second, but in that second there was the tiniest smirk, the barest flicker of memory from every call. “Evenin’,” he said, voice even.

You lingered just close enough to be part of the conversation, tossing in little remarks, laughing when Joel said something— leaning forward when you laughed so his eyes had somewhere to go.

Your dad, oblivious, clapped Joel on the shoulder. “You oughta stay for another drink or two. Long week like yours, you’ve earned it.” Oh, he definitely has, you wanna scream.

Joel almost glanced at you— almost— but kept his eyes on your dad. “Yeah, I could do that.”

And so he stayed. Beer after beer, the sun sinking low until the porch light was the only glow outside. Your dad was a stickler about no drinking and driving, and you knew exactly how to nudge the evening toward that inevitability.

“Another one?” you offered from the kitchen doorway, bottle dangling between your fingers. Joel’s gaze met yours — a silent, I know what you’re doing. But he took it.

By the time the night had stretched well past sensible, your dad was leaning back in his chair, satisfied with the evening, and saying exactly what you’d been waiting for: “You’ve had a few, Joel. Stay here tonight. Sofa’s free.”

Joel didn’t argue. “Appreciate it.”

You smiled, leaning against the wall like it was just another Friday night. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

The house went quiet after that. Joel lay on the sofa for maybe twenty minutes, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant sound of you moving around upstairs. Every shift of the sheets, every creak of the floorboards, tightened something in his chest.

Eventually, he sat up. Stood. His boots were off, footsteps soft as he made his way down the hall and up the stairs. He didn’t knock. Just eased your bedroom door open, the dark spilling around him. You were sitting up in bed, like you’d been waiting.

“Mr. Miller,” you whispered, a smile curling slow and knowing.

Joel shut the door behind him, the dim light from your bedside lamp painting everything in soft amber. He looked bigger in here, the space making his shoulders seem broader, his presence heavier. “You gonna invite me in proper,” he murmured, “or you just plan on starin’ at me like that?”

You tilted your head, your lip tugged between your teeth. This man was so beautiful. “I was just wondering… how many times you’ve pictured me in here.”

His jaw flexed. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, come on.” You slid out from under the covers, padding toward him barefoot. “You’ve pictured it, haven’t you? Me in bed, hand between my thighs…”

Joel’s throat worked as he swallowed, his voice low. “Yeah.”

“I bet you’ve imagined me finger-fucking myself for you every night.”

His breath hitched, his eyes darkening. You stepped around him and pointed to the chair in the corner— the one angled just enough toward the bed. “Sit.”

Joel didn’t move right away, his gaze fixed on yours like he was deciding if he’d let you have this. But then he obeyed, lowering himself into the chair, elbows on his knees, watching you like he could eat you alive.

You dragged yourself to the edge of the bed— right in front of him — and sat with your knees parted just enough to make his breath deepen.

“I bet you like to watch,” you teased, fingers skimming up your thighs. “Don’t you, Mr. Miller?”

His eyes tracked your hand like it was prey. “You’re pushin’ it, sugar.”

“You’re the one who called me every night to hear me touch myself,” you said sweetly. “Now you get the real thing. Lucky you.”

Joel’s hands flexed on his knees, the muscle in his jaw ticking. Your little voice ringing in his ears. “You like this, don’t you?” You slid your fingers beneath your panties, dragging a slow circle over your clit. “Pervert.”

Joel let out a sound— low, almost a growl— leaning forward but not quite reaching for you, like he was giving you the chance to keep going.

“Keep talkin’,” he rasped. “Wanna hear you ruin me.” Joel was already leaning forward in the chair, elbows braced on his knees like he couldn’t stand the distance. His eyes were locked between your thighs, tracking every slow, lazy drag of your fingers. Watching you slide off your panties and toss them aside.

You let your knees fall open wider, silk camisole slipping over your hips as you tilted back on one hand. The thin straps barely covered you, your nipples pressing against the fabric, tight and aching under his stare.

“Look at you,” you murmured, rubbing slow circles over your clit. “Just sitting there, watching me make myself feel so fucking good.”

Joel’s chest rose and fell heavy, his jaw tight. His eyes flicked from your hand to your breasts, back to the wet heat between your thighs, and he swallowed hard.

“I imagined you watching me. How hard I’d get you just from touching myself.”

“Jesus Christ, sugar…” His voice was already breaking.

You slid two fingers lower, parting yourself so he could see everything — the slick stretch, the way your folds glistened. “Pretty, isn’t she?”

Joel’s hands fisted on his thighs. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

“I’m so wet for you, Mr. Miller,” you whispered, your hips lifting to meet your own touch. “And you’re just sitting there. Bet your cock’s so hard right now.”

His gaze dragged up to your mouth, back down again, and the bulge in his jeans twitched under your words.

You bit your lip, moaning softly. “Mmh… I’m so close. My pussy’s so fucking needy for you. You like watching me work her open?”

Joel’s breath shuddered out. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

“Maybe I want to,” you teased, curling your fingers inside yourself, your free hand coming up to squeeze your breast through the camisole. The thin fabric darkened where your nipple rubbed against it, peaked and hard.

Joel made a low, guttural sound, like it had been ripped out of him. His knees spread wider, one hand shifting to the bulge in his jeans without even meaning to.

You watched him touch himself and smiled wickedly. “You gonna come just from watching me, sir?”

His head tipped back, eyes shut tight for a second before finding you again. “Keep talkin’, pretty girl.”

“I’m so fucking wet,” you breathed. “My fingers are dripping… wish it was your cock instead. Wish I could ride you until I can’t take anymore.”

Joel’s hand flexed on himself, his breathing gone ragged, and you could see the restraint starting to slip from his face.

“You can’t touch me yet,” you warned, curling your toes as your orgasm started to crest. “Not until I make myself come for you. Not until you watch me do it right.”

“Goddamn…” Joel’s voice was hoarse, his eyes wide, glued to you. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect.”

It hit you hard. A soft, quiet moan escaping your lips. Your back arched, your knees trembled, and your fingers worked you through it, hips jerking as the heat rolled over you in thick, pulsing waves. You were still catching your breath, still trembling, when Joel moved.

One second he was in the chair, the next he was between your knees, his big hand wrapping around your wrist to yank your own fingers out of your pussy— replacing them with his.

Two thick, calloused fingers drove deep, knuckles pressing against your swollen entrance. You gasped, chin dropping to your chest, propped up on your elbows, your mouth hanging open. “J-Joel—”

“Sound so fucking sweet moanin’ my name like that,” he growled, eyes locked on where you stretched around him. “Feel how you’re flutterin’ on me? How you’re suckin’ me in?”

You whimpered, nails digging into the sheets, eyes blown wide and fixed on his. “Goddamn, sugar,” he rasped, curling his fingers until you moaned, your slick running down his hand. “All this for me? All that drippin’ just from showin’ me what’s mine?”

Your breath hitched, your hips rolling into his palm without thinking.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured, his thumb pressing against your clit now, his fingers fucking into you deep and filthy. “Milk my fingers, baby girl… fuckin’ wring ‘em dry.”

You were half-gone, body clenching around him in desperate pulses, and Joel’s eyes burned into yours, dark and hungry.

“Pretty little mouth hangin’ open… you got no idea what you’re doin’ to me,” he panted, voice gone rough with it. “Gonna fuck you so full you’ll still be leakin’ tomorrow.”

Your head tipped back, a raw moan ripping from your throat as you clenched down hard, his fingers buried to the hilt. He feels around the bed for your discarded panties and stuffs them in your mouth, “shh, sweetheart. Don’t wanna wake your daddy now, do we?”

You knit your brows together, shaking your head. The ache in your core so unbelievably heavy.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers. You moan. Eyes rolling back at how the words innocent as “pretty” can be coming from a man knuckle deep inside your pussy. Your head falls back, chest heaving up and down, feeling that orgasm creeping in.

“Yeah,” he grunted, watching every twitch, every flutter. “There she is. That’s my girl.”

Joel didn’t give you a chance to breathe. The moment your body stopped quaking around his fingers, he pulled them out, slick coating them to the knuckle, and shoved them into his mouth with a low, wrecked groan.

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted,” he rasped — and then his belt was hitting the floor.

Your eyes went wide, heartbeat slamming in your ears as he tore his jeans open, the heavy line of him springing free. Thick. Flushed. Veined. Bigger than you could’ve even conjured up in your little head.

You yank the panties from your mouth to say,“Joel—”

“Shh,” he cut you off, his voice low and dark as he pushed you back onto your mattress, head hitting your sheets softly, one big hand sliding up your thigh. “I’ve been dreamin’ about this since the first night I called you, sugar. Since the first time you said sir in that sweet little voice.”

He dragged your hips to the very edge of the bed, his cock slapping hot against your swollen folds, smearing you open with every slow grind.

“Look at that,” he muttered, eyes locked where he was lining himself up. “Pussy so wet for me she’s beggin’.”

And then he pushed in. The stretch burned in the best way, forcing your mouth open on a gasp as he bottomed out, thick and deep and there.

“Fuuuck,” Joel groaned, head tipping back for a second before his gaze snapped to yours. “Tighter than I imagined. You’re squeezin’ me like you don’t wanna let go.”

Your nails clawed at the sheets, your eyes locked to his. “Y-you feel—”

“I know,” he rasped, hips pulling back only to drive in harder, deeper. “Been thinkin’ about this every goddamn night, baby girl. Every moan, every little gasp I heard through that phone—” He punctuated each couple words with a thrust that shoved you up the bed. “—I pictured this.”

His hand came up to your jaw, tilting your face so he could watch your expression as he fucked into you. “That’s it. Let me see how good I make you feel.”

You bit your lip, but a moan still slipped out, high and helpless. Joel’s eyes went darker. “You keep lookin’ at me like that and I’m not gonna last, baby girl.”

He slammed in again, groaning low, his other hand sliding down to your clit, rubbing tight circles as he fucked you deeper. “You’re gonna come for me,” he growled. “Gonna make this cock all messy while I’m still inside you. Do it, sugar. Give it to me.”

Your back arched, the tight coil in your belly snapping hard, and you came with a strangled cry, clenching him so tight he cursed into your neck and buried himself to the hilt.

“God—fuck—”

Joel held you there, hips pressed flush, filling you in thick, pulsing ropes until his jaw went slack and all that was left was the sound of your panting in the dark. He stayed inside you a moment longer, his hand still cupping your jaw, his eyes still drinking you in like he couldn’t believe you were real. Joel stayed buried, his hips pressed flush, one hand heavy and warm at your hip, the other still cupping your jaw like he didn’t want you to turn away.

His breathing was slowing, but his eyes… his eyes were still roaming every inch of your face like he was memorizing it.

Your cheeks were hot and pink, your lips swollen from biting back moans, hair a little messy against the pillow. You looked wrecked — and dreamy, and soft, and younger than you’d let on with your words over the phone. Innocent, almost.

Joel’s thumb brushed over your cheekbone, rough against the softness of your skin. “Pretty little thing,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Look at you… all fucked out for me.”

You swallowed, your voice small, almost too shy for the room you were in together. “I’ve… never done that before.”

His brows pulled together slightly. “What d’you mean?”

Your gaze flicked from his eyes to his chest, then down to where you were still joined. “Never… had sex with a client.” A pause, your breath catching. “Never had sex with an older man, either.”

Joel went still, his hand at your jaw tightening just slightly. “You tellin’ me I’m the first for both?”

You nodded, your blush deepening. “Mm-hm.”

Something shifted in his eyes — softer, heavier, like the words were settling somewhere deep in his chest. “Christ, sugar…”

You let your lashes lower, voice barely a whisper. “Was I… any good?”

Joel’s head tipped, like he couldn’t believe you’d even ask. “What?”

You bit your lip. “Did I… live up to the person I was on the phone for you?”

For a beat, he didn’t speak — just looked at you like he wanted to burn this exact moment into his memory. Then his hand slid from your jaw into your hair, tugging gently so you’d look right at him.

“You were better,” he said, slow and certain. “Nothin’ I pictured even comes close to the way you feel… the way you look right now.”

Your chest tightened, the sincerity in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. Joel leaned in, brushing his lips over your temple. “You were more than good, sugar. You ruined me.”

Joel still hadn’t pulled out, his weight heavy and grounding between your thighs, his hand threaded through your hair like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go. He still felt hard, somehow. You could feel his heartbeat in the press of his chest against yours, the way his breath was still warm on your cheek.

“This ain’t gonna be a one-time thing,” he said low, almost like it was a decision he’d just made aloud.

You blinked up at him, eyes still hazy. “…No?”

He shook his head, lips curving just faintly. “Not a chance in hell. You think I’m lettin’ you go after this? After the way you just milked me and looked that pretty doin’ it?”

A little rush of heat rolled through you, your blush deepening again.

He studied your face for a long moment, his thumb stroking lazy along your jaw. “Gonna see you again before you leave.”

You hesitated — and then your voice came soft, testing the waters. “Joel… did you ever imagine kissing me?”

His eyes sharpened, the line of his mouth tightening like you’d just pulled something from deep inside him.

“More than I should’ve,” he admitted, voice rough. “Had to stop myself plenty of times, even just over the phone. Always figured if I got the chance, I wouldn’t stop.”

You swallowed. “So what’s stopping you now?”

Joel’s gaze dropped to your mouth, his hips pressing forward just slightly, like he could remind you exactly where you were still joined.

“Nothin’, sugar,” he murmured— and then his lips were on yours, slow but deep, tasting you like he’d been starving for it since the first call Joel’s mouth was warm, sure, and slow at first — the kind of kiss that sank straight into your bones. He kissed you like he was claiming something, his thumb brushing your jaw while his other hand stayed heavy at your hip, keeping you anchored beneath him.

You sighed into it, lips parting, and the second his tongue slid against yours, his hips shifted— a deep, unhurried roll that reminded you he was still inside you, thick and hot, filling you in a way you could feel in your ribs. A quiet, broken sound slipped from your throat. Joel swallowed it, groaning low into your mouth like he’d been waiting weeks to hear it up close.

You shifted under him, your thighs widening just a little more, and his grip on your hip tightened. “Mm, baby,” he murmured against your lips, “you keep movin’ like that and I’m gonna make you cum again.”

“Maybe I want you to,” you breathed, kissing him again, slower this time, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck.

His chest rumbled with a half-laugh, half-growl. “Goddamn insatiable.”

Another roll of his hips had you gasping into his mouth, your nails curling into his hair. You could feel the way he shuddered when you clenched around him, his cock twitching to life, his kiss turning hotter, filthier— his tongue sliding deeper, his teeth catching your bottom lip before he soothed it with a soft suck.

You pulled back just far enough to whisper, breathless, “Do you like kissing me, Joel?”

His eyes were dark and locked on yours, his mouth slick and swollen from you. “Sweetheart… I fuckin’ love it. Might love it too much.”

And then he kissed you again, harder this time, hips starting to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had your toes curling and your mind going hazy all over again. “Gonna gimme another one?”

“However many you want, Mr. Miller.”

“That’s my girl.”

[cuterpascal]

an innocent favor / dbf! joel miller x fem! reader

summary: you promised your dad you’d keep his friend company.

content warnings: age gap ( reader is in her mid 20s and Joel is in his early 40s, mutual masturbation, penetration, no outbreak, multiple orgasms, long one shot.

— now playing! ♫ like a tattoo by sade —

It was a cold Autumn morning, with the kind of weather that made you wake up earlier than you should. The reason why you stood out on your porch, watching the leaves fall. Definitely not looking across to your neighbor’s house and watching the lights shine through a particular room. The shadow of your dad’s friend in the window.

The same man who came over for dinner every once in a while, gave you a ride when you needed it— the tall, handsome, brooding old man.

Joel Miller.

Your dad and him go way back. There’s hundred stories you’ve heard of him through your father, but it wasn’t until your first year of college when you officially met him; the day you moved across the street from him and his daughter Sarah.

The same day your dad made you bring them something homemade to make a good impression, and so you did. Cinnamon cookies to be exact, which earned you your first smile from Joel.

Now you were done with school. Back in your hometown, sitting outside your house contemplating giving him the pumpkin bread you made for him. The one sitting on your counter, with a note carefully placed on the top on the box, saying Happy Halloween.

You’d bake every dessert in the world if it meant seeing him smile.

You were nervous to see him, or perhaps you were nervous about being back home. It was a surprise, even to yourself. You didn’t know why you came back. No one expected you to return so soon. Especially since you had a job with a beautiful apartment and friends you called family. You had a different life in another city.

Your impulsiveness made you feel crazy and all you could do was think. You had been in town for two days and you hadn’t been out of the house. All you could fixate on was Joel. No matter where your thoughts went it would always come to him. You wondered how the years treated him, probably really fucking good. Would he be excited to know you were back home? Is he still single? It was all you could think about.

Although you couldn’t blame your stress baking on just that. It was the unforeseen day planned by your father. He told you to help Joel give candy away to the neighboring kids. You and him, in his house — alone together.

He said Sarah was gone for the night, at a party or something. And It was his second Halloween being alone, not doing anything. No pumpkins being carved, no candy, no costume. Your dad said it would be good for him to have company for once.

That meant a night with him talking to you with that southern drawl, probably about some movie — making your fucking head spin.

You let out a soft breath into the cold air, hugging your arms tight. Forcing yourself to stop looking and head back inside your house.

The smell of coffee made your body relax. You thank god you’re home alone today, usually the opportunity doesn’t come to you this early in the morning. Your roommate doesn’t appreciate cooking at 6 am.

So breakfast is loud today. The usual silence now filled with soft jazz and the sounds of your dad’s old coffee maker. You make something quick and stupidly festive: scrambled eggs, a cinnamon bagel with cream cheese and, a pumpkin cold brew.

The moment’s quaint, as you sit down and eat. Practically melting into the seat when the food hits your mouth.

About two minutes into your bliss you hear a small knock on your door. You swallow slow and get up to carefully check the window.

It’s Joel.

A curse slips from your mouth and suddenly you’re wiping your mouth clean and running a hand over your hair. He definitely saw you on the porch looking for him like a total weirdo. Now he’d come to tell you off or something.

Fuck, this was the first time you’d talk to him since you left.

When you open the door he quips his head up, a sharp smile lining his face. His hair is disheveled from sleep, he’s still in his pajamas, a gray shirt with plaid baggy sweatpants. If you weren’t so embarrassed you’d probably stare at him longer.

“Mornin’” he says and your knees threaten to buckle, his voice is deeper than you remember.

“Hey.” You blink, “Good morning.”

His eyes follow behind you with curiosity. “Smells good.”

“Just breakfast.” You say, standing awkwardly.

There’s a beat.

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. You stare at him waiting for a response. Realization creeps in your mind and you quickly wave him in.

“Sorry, come on in.”

He smiles again, walking inside your home. “Been awhile. How’s everything? How are you?”

You turn to him, straightening up, “I’m great, I’m good. Just been busy looking for jobs, you know.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just nods.

“How’s Sarah?”

“She’s fine—started college this year. Makes me feel fuckin’ old.” He grumbles.

You laugh softly, “Who says that’s not a good thing?”

“Me.” He says, walking forward.

You follow, stifling back a remark.

“Festive.” He points around and you cringe with a smile.

There’s decorations lining your living room: jack-o’-lantern’s, paper witches, mini ghosts. Your dad’s old stuff from when you were a kid. A welcome present to you.

“No, it’s nice.” He drawls, “Your dad’s idea?”

You nod, “It was his surprise for me.” You say, “He’s a little too excited i’m back home.”

“You got that right.” He sits down on a kitchen chair, “How long you stayin’?”

“Just a week or two for now, i’m not sure yet.” You reply watching him cross his arms. That was a lie.

“Not sure?” He asks and you nod.

There’s hesitation when you answer, “It’s a long story, I just don’t think I really can. With my current job and shit, you know.”

“Right.” For a moment you think he looks disappointed.

You walk around, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. Joel follows you with his eyes, you can feel it. And once you place it in front of him he takes a breath, speaking again, “Sorry for botherin’ you this early in the mornin’.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s fine.”

“I just saw you were up.” He pointed towards your porch, “Figured I come to talk to you about tonight.”

“Oh. Tonight.” You repeat.

He grunts as a response.

“Your dad offered, I told him you’d be better off having’ fun...” He says, “Somewhere else.”

You begin to say something but he cuts you off almost immediately.

“You don’t have to come over.”

You laugh, nervously, “I want to.”

He sighs, a low and steady sigh before asking, “You want to?”

“Yeah, It’ll be fun.” You say now with confidence, “We can watch movies, eat a shit load of candy.”

He shakes his head with a grin.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re uninviting me Joel Miller?” You say lowly, sarcasm eating at your words. “Thought you were a gentleman.”

“Jesus, I’m not uninviting you.” He groans, smiling up at you. “Just askin’ that’s all.”

“Good.” You reply.

You reach over and take a bite of your bagel, staring back at him. Then you get up and look at the pumpkin bread on the counter.

“Oh. I almost forgot.”

He quickly turns away, clearing his throat.

“I made you something.” You say, carefully sliding the container over to him. “It’s pumpkin. Didn’t know if you liked it. Just took a guess.”

And then he smiles, that same smile you remember from years ago.

He mumbles your name before picking up the note stuck to the side. Reading it out loud.

“You’re too nice for me.” He says.

God that sounds good coming from him.

“Just being neighborly that’s all.” You reply.

He gets up with the container in his hands. “Your boyfriend— he must have a sweet tooth.”

You swallow hard; the question catching you off guard.

“don’t have one.”

He nods slowly, walking towards your door. “See you at five? My place.”

—

When your dad gets home from work it’s around three. Kids are already ringing your door demanding candy. You’ve showered, done your hair, cleaned up a bit.

He’s teasing you, trying to get you in a costume but you refuse. Especially since his options are three dusty ones from the attic. No way you’re showing up to Joel’s with a lady bug costume from when you were sixteen.

You’re not that bold.

If you were, you’d be laying in his bed the moment you got home. But you’re not, you’re his best friend’s daughter. Doing him a simple and innocent favor.

“No funny shit tonight.” Your dad says and it snaps you from your thoughts.

What.

You stare at him stupidly.

“Be nice to him. Talk to him. Don’t y’know—” He mimics texting with his hands.

“What am I fifteen?” You ask.

“No.” He replies, grabbing a pirate hat, one matching his costume. “But I’m serious…”

“I will be very nice.” You cross your arms. “You look ridiculous by the way.”

He spins a bit and you laugh.

“Alright, you look great. Go, you’ll be late.”

Your dad gives you a look of— I told you, and quickly grabs his keys.

“Have fun and be safe.” You say and his eyebrows furrow.

“You sound like my dad.” He points.

“Might as well be.”

He gives you a quick hug before he leaves. You know he won’t be home until midnight, or later.

You grab your phone from your pocket, checking the time. Three-thirty. Your palms begin to sweat. You could lie to yourself and pretend you don’t know why you’re nervous but you do know. A part of you wishes you were meeting Joel under different circumstances.

But you shake the idea out of your head, instead you go upstairs to change. There’s plenty of clothes already in your suitcase but you curiously move to your closet.

It’s the same from what you remember. Like a time capsule. Clothes you wore to parties from high school and dinners with your family. You smile a bit, nostalgia hitting you like a brick. You run a hand through the hangers— a light dust cloud painting the air.

You stop on a certain piece. It’s a summer dress. Your favorite one. Cream, relatively short with lace trimmings on the bust. Little purple flowers and green vines all over.

If it weren’t so cold you’d wear it. Probably with some boots. You wonder if Joel would like it.

Instead you pick out a cute denim skirt from a drawer. Some black stockings, black boots, and a flowy orange shirt.

You do your makeup, simple but effective. You put a clip in your hair and stare at yourself in the mirror. You try and sigh the pit in your stomach away. It doesn’t budge. It grows and your fate doesn’t change. You check your phone again, four-thirty. You’re early but maybe he needs help setting things up?

You hadn’t been in his house in awhile, It’s no different from the other times you suppose but this time it certain feels different.

So, you grab your bag and sprit as much perfume on yourself as you can before you choke. Do one last mirror check and walk downstairs.

There’s a bag full of candy on the counter, placed by your dad just in case you run out. You stuff it in your bag, shut off the lights and leave your house.

It’s cold— there’s kids yelling and running. You’re whispering fuck a million times under your breath as you make the walk up to his place.

You knock.

After a minute, the porch light comes on and he opens the door.

He’s there. He’s handsome, wearing a green plaid button up with jeans that almost make your eyes wander. His hair is kept and you can smell his cologne almost immediately. It mixes well with his usual scent of wood and whiskey.

“Hi.” You say sweetly.

“Hello there.”

His voice is velvety, deep and soft. He lets you in.

“Sorry i’m a bit early.” You say, watching him walk to the kitchen.

“Eager to see me?” He jokes.

Yes.

“Ha, funny.” You say, following him. He grabs a bowl, next to a big bag of candy.

“Jokin’ it’s fine.”

You study the room, it’s not messy but also not clean. A kind of rowdiness you expect from a man his age with a teenage daughter. A couple mugs in the sink with coffee residue, envelopes filling the dining table, looks like some bills and newspapers. There’s some bracelets and earrings spread out too, definitely Sarah’s… Hopefully Sarah’s

He grunts in embarrassment, “Sorry for the mess.”

You shake your head, “No I like it, it’s homey.”

“Homey.” He repeats. “You’re weird.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah.”

A muttered laugh escapes his lips. He dumps the bag in the orange bowl and looks up at you again.

“You look pretty by the way.” He says.

Fuck. FUCK.

“Thank you.”

You avoid making eye contact and turn towards the hallway. You take a few curious steps and look at the frames hung on the walls. Most of them are pictures of Sarah but one is of him and Tommy— his brother.

A low hum comes out from your mouth and you run a hand on the frame. You have to squint but, Joel looks younger, he smiling real big and you can tell the picture hasn’t been dusted in years.

You hear footsteps behind you. You don’t look away though. Instead you’re prepared to ask him a million questions.

He knows this. So he answers first.

“I think I was about twenty three, maybe twenty four.” He says, “It was right after Tommy graduated high school.”

They look so content, with an arm over each other’s shoulders and a young Sarah wrapped around her father’s leg.

You smile watching his face light up as he stares at the picture.

“You were happy.” You whisper, putting an unknowing emphasis on were.

He grunts a bit before putting a hand on his hip. His mind tries reaching for the right words. He looks over to you and gives you a small nudge with his shoulder.

“I’m not always grumpy you know.” He jokes.

You laugh, “You’re lucky you have proof.”

You walk down the hallway and into his living room, you look at it like it’s a memory, like it’s ripped straight out from your head. You look at the couch, one side is dipped down, almost melted into the shape of Joel. The table right in front of it is covered in rings of coffee stains and worn down from years of kicking his feet back onto it. The space is so him, it drives you crazy.

“You said movies.” He begins, “Problem is, dunno what you like.”

He points to a shelf on the wall and scratches his head nervously, “Sarah told me you’d like those.”

You wander over and look through the stack of scary movies. It’s got all the ones you and her watched when you would babysit: Halloween, The Ring, Scream. The list goes on.

“I hope you’ve seen at least one of these Joel.”

He shrugs, “There’s that killer guy in one of them right? And the girl comes out alive.”

You nod, “Basically yeah, that happens in most of them.”

He grunts, “See, my old ass knows.”

“Only because they’re all predictable.”

“Whatever.”

He walks to turn the dvd player on and watches as you run your fingers through each movie.

“What are you thinkin’?”

You look over to him as his back is rested on the wall.

“I’m debating whether Final Destination or Saw will give you nightmares.”

He playfully scoffs.

There’s a small pause before you make up your mind, “Fuck it, I’m picking Final Destination.”

You pop the disc out and put it in the player. You move to the couch with a sigh and sink right into it.

Joel lingers, with his eyes stuck on the screen as the previews begin to play.

“Quit being a dad, sit down.” You say.

“Can’t, gotta get the popcorn.”

“Okay well hurry up.”

You can hear him softly laugh as he makes his way back into the kitchen.

It such a domestic feeling, being with Joel like this. It’s so simple but, you like seeing him laugh at your stupid jokes. The coziness of his place, and how relaxed he looks.

He comes back a couple minutes later just as the disc menu comes on. He sets the bowl down with two beers next to it. He sits down and it’s in his usual spot, you can practically feel him relax his whole body.

It’s mostly quiet throughout the movie, occasionally Joel asks a question or two but the rest is silence. You’ve both gotten up to give out candy a couple times. By the end of the movie you’ve eaten all the popcorn and made your way through three beers.

Suddenly, Joel says something and it makes your body tense up.

“Do you like it over there?”

The question lingers in the air, it’s so sudden and his voice is quiet.

You pause, looking at him. “California? Yeah, It’s nice.”

He nods, trying his best to keep his eyes on the movie and not on you.

“Your dad said you’d be stayin’ for a while.” He confesses.

You wished the volume of the tv wasn’t so quiet. You could hear every part of his deep voice seeping through the silence.

“He told me you were movin’ back home.”

He knew you were lying earlier.

“Yeah, that’s what he wants.” You reply to him, your words coming out burdened. You didn’t want to talk about being homesick, or about your life away from Texas. You didn’t know why.

Finally, he turns to you.

“What do you want?” He asks, his words are gentle.

“I don’t know.” You answer slowly.

You want him. You can’t tell him that, but it’s the underlying reason why you’re begging yourself to stay. You miss home, you miss your dad and part of you can deny it but, you miss Joel.

It’s wrong but in the moment you wonder what his lips feel like. You find yourself staring and hope he doesn’t notice. But he does and suddenly you’re too close to him.

Your movements are aren’t calculated, just needy. You drink up his scent, it makes you want to sink into his chest. You don’t know what comes over you, maybe it’s the raw tension or the beers in your system but you do it. You kiss him.

His lips are surprisingly soft and you’re scared to move. You wish you could run your fingers through his curls or feel his rough hands on your face. You’re scared he’ll realize who he’s kissing, that you’re messing everything up. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead he pulls you in. You can feel his grip and it’s rough as he grabs at your waist and back.

You feel bold so you slip your tongue into his mouth and he groans, pulling you into his lap. You whine, feeling him. You can feel him growing and it makes you want to rip your clothes off.

He pulls away for what you think is air but the look in his eyes makes you hesitate.

“I— fuck.. sorry.” He pants.

He grabs your arms, pulling them away and he tries to get up.

You shake your head, “Don’t be.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You repeat.

A sigh comes out from his mouth and you can see him clench his jaw.

“I’ll stop if you tell me to.” You say, “Fuck. I swear, I will Joel.”

You’re desperate, you can’t even hide it. You grab his hand and place it on your chest.

“I can’t keep pretending.” You breathe out. “I can’t.”

His eyes furrow in confusion.

You bring his hand down, trailing it along your stomach.

“Tell me to stop.”

Joel lets out a pained grunt and lets his free hand grab onto your ass. Your next sentence catches in your throat and he whispers something under his breath.

He moves his hand onto your face and fixes a strand of your hair back in its place.

“You want this?” His accent is thick.

You nod. He does the opposite.

“Need you to say it baby.”

Your head spins, you can’t even remember your own name with the way he’s holding you. The way his voice drawls and calls to you.

“Yes.” You reply, “So fuckin’ bad.”

His eyes follow your every move, exploring how your mouth opens slightly when he traces his fingers down your neck.

He doesn’t say anything. He just waits.

He waits until you move his hand down into your unbuttoned skirt. And when his fingers touch you, you squirm. You’re far too wet than usual.

You moan into the air and your eyes threaten to shut. For a second you’re confused, and to be honest you’re angry. He’s still not moving.

“Joel.” You huff out, gripping onto his arm.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, “Move for me.”

You swallow, hard. But you obey. You buckle under him.

This time it’s him who moans. A soft but guttural noise that sends chills down your spine.

“So fuckin’ wet.” He groans. “So perfect.”

Joel looks drunk on you, watching as you grind desperately for his fingers. It’s intoxicating, you beg for some sort of indication that this is real. That it’s not just another dream, the ones you hide embarrassingly deep into your mind.

Except it’s real. You know it because it feels too good.

“Don’t hold back, S’ okay.” He says.

It’s almost too much, you can barely grip onto him anymore. You can’t control your body.

“Can’t— fuck. Need you.” You whine, incoherently. “Too good.”

He looks pained, your noises are piercing enough for him to speak up.

“Feels good?” He asks.

You nod, fighting the urge to beg him to fuck you.

“So sensitive,” His hand grabs your head, making you look at him. “Fuck, you’re dripping.”

“Never, usually— this wet.” You manage to reply.

You wonder if you should’ve kept that to yourself because his eyes turn dark. His fingers twitch and slip in you and you moan.

“Fuck— they, don’t feel like you.”

He grunts again.

“They don’t treat me right.”

Joel hums, he’s pissed. You’re not even trying to tease him, you’re just telling the truth. The guys you’ve slept with back in California couldn’t compare, and all you know is his fingers.

“What a fuckin’ shame.” He says, curving his fingers deep inside you.

He hasn’t even started to properly move and you’re already on the edge. You’re a little embarrassed because you know he can tell.

“How many times have you touched yourself, thinkin’ of me?”

Your cheeks flush. It’s a filthy question. You’re a little ashamed to answer, but there’s a pit of arousal deep in your core. You can’t lie to him, even if you tried.

“Don’t look at me like that baby.” He breathes out. “Answer me.”

His voice is deep— dark and sinful.

You stutter but nothing comes up and he starts thrusting his fingers into you without warning. You slur against him, not wanting to finish so soon.

“Too many fuckin’ times.” You finally mumble, “Waking up soaked thinkin’ of you. Couldn’t help it.”

He smiles, watching you unfurl. And he slips out of you. Your words don’t make sentences, just whines from confusion.

“Gonna take real good care of you.” He says. “Treat you right.”

Joel lifts you from his lap and onto his chest as he stands up. You tangle your legs around his waist, breathing hard.

He leads you into his room. You feel out of place, it makes you think of the times you’ve peeked inside from curiosity. Back when you would babysit Sarah. But that feeling disappears when he hovers over the bed to lay you down. When he starts kissing your neck and you realize he almost just made you cum.

The thought of him yearning for this just as you have, makes you shiver.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna stop?” He says softly against your skin. “If this is too much..”

You shake your head too much if you’re honest.

He sighs almost smiling, “Words baby.”

“Don’t. Don’t stop.” You struggle, “I— fuck.. need you.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just does.

He starts by taking your shirt off, and he moves to slip your skirt down and out of the way. You grab his own shirt and begin to unbutton it as fast as you can.

“Too many buttons, shit.” You grunt and he laughs.

His body’s toned but not ripped. A real fucking dad bod. Your eyes dip down and stare a little too long.

Joel wastes no time, he kisses your stomach— every inch of exposed skin but stops at your underwear. It’s peaking underneath your stockings.

You hear his low groan beneath you, not before it’s interrupted by the sudden rip of the black fabric. You gasp, picking your head up. He ripped the entire thing off of you.

“Fuck it, I’ll buy you a new pair.”

You would be upset but you’re so turned on you don’t even care. You just grab his face, lead his lips to your underwear, trying to give him a sign.

He knows what to do. He grabs the lace with his teeth, pulling it slowly, down to your thighs. He spends a couple seconds running his hands throughout your body, kissing at the places he missed.

“Fuckin’ perfect.”

You fiddle with his jeans trying to get them off and you’re successful. He kicks them on the floor, along with his boxers. The hand that was once placed perfectly on your neck is now on his cock. You watch in bliss as he jerks off. He’s perfect. Moaning out like you own him.

His other hand grabs onto your bra, squeezing your boobs through it. You reach behind with your fingers to quickly clip it off.

It doesn’t even occur to you that you’re entirely naked in front of Joel miller.

“Gonna make you mine.” He slurs.

You don’t reply, you can’t. All that comes out of your mouth is a needy whine. Especially when you feel him position himself in your entrance. You need him to fuck you, you’re desperate for him to.

He pushes himself slightly deeper and you grab the first thing you can: his arm.

It takes him a couple seconds to adjust but he doesn’t dare move. He just stares into your eyes, waiting for you. You take a couple breathes before you nod. He starts agonizingly slow. You don’t know if he’s teasing you but it works nonetheless.

Joel’s heavy moans fill your ears, it doesn’t help the growing orgasm you left unattended. You feel his callused hands palm your breasts and it’s heaven.

“S’ fuckin’ good girl.” He mumbles. “Good girl.”

He looses his steady pace once you clench around him, he speeds up. He hits something deep inside you and you yell. A loud yelp resembling his name. He keeps going, unaware of how close you really are. You don’t complain. You can’t get enough.

His words are incoherent, just as yours are. They’re full of praise and hunger as he fucks you senseless. He fills you up just right, so right it makes you want to cry.

Cry from pain, yes— he’s fucking big. But also because you never thought Joel could ever want you, not as much as you wanted him.

“S’ so good.” You say, and you repeat it over and over again until the sentence falls apart in your throat. When he makes you cum.

The sound is dirty, a grunt you didn’t know you were capable of making. He grabs your waist, pushing his thumbs into them until you arch back, unable to hold on.

He doesn’t stop, instead he slows down again.

“That’s it.” He groans.

You don’t think you’ve ever came this fast, or at all even, before him.

There’s a pained feeling when he slips out of you, you almost claw onto him when he does. He grabs his dick again, pumping himself slow.

“You— you didn’t cum.” You tell him.

He shakes his head, “Not yet sweet girl.”

You don’t know what he’s planning because he’s suddenly on his knees, in between your legs, stroking himself. The same feeling from before is back and stronger.

“Want you to touch yourself.” He says, “Show me.”

Your chest moves rapidly and it’s hard to keep your legs apart. You don’t want your fingers, you want his. You do it anyways, he’s watching, that fills the void. You move a hand down and on yourself, rubbing small circles. You’re still throbbing from your last orgasm and it doesn’t take long before you start slurring your words again.

He guides you through your movements. Taking your hand when you accidentally speed up too much. The sounds of his hands— slick with your cum, doesn’t help.

“Keep your legs open.” He grunts and he fixes your legs apart with his free hand.

“You’re gonna cum for me again.”

You gasp and it almost sounds like a whine. You know he’s close by the way he grips onto your body with desperation. He’s fisting his cock with no other intention but to cum hard on you. To watch you come undone with him. He needs it.

You stick a couple fingers inside yourself and struggle to hit the spot he did. It doesn’t matter because he looks so hot it sends you over and you scream into the air.

His moans turns into a deep hum as he cums with you, all over your thighs.

He mumbles a lot of words you don’t hear, you’re too busy breathing into a pillow, your body’s weak and unable to move. You don’t notice his absence when he grabs a towel from the bathroom. He gently cleans you up and tucks you in perfectly with him.

It’s far too late, you’ve ignored his doorbell too many times. By the time Joel Miller finishes fucking you it’s not Halloween anymore.

“Never letting you go.” He whispers.

And you fall asleep in Joel’s bed, naked and next to him.

[followyourfleart]

𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 & 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ˖˚⊹ ꣑ৎ‎

a03 | masterlist | join taglist | playlist

When your high-powered marketing career goes up in flames, you find yourself back in Texas and out of options—until your old childhood friend Tommy offers you a job at his family’s growing construction company. The only catch? His older brother Joel, the project manager with a chip on his shoulder and zero patience for your city-slicker attitude. You clash instantly: you’re clever, confident, and painfully corporate. He’s quiet, rugged, and set in his ways. You push his buttons. He pushes back harder. But somewhere between long meetings, late nights, resurfacing memories, and hurt, along with one very unexpected work trip… the tension starts to shift. What begins as bickering turns into banter. Glances linger. Walls crack. And neither of you is quite sure when things started to change.

♡ Tropes:

#modernau #nocordycesoutbreak #officeromance #oldermanyoungerwoman #hatetolove #coworkerstolovers #confidentreader #twopeopleterribleatfeelings #emotionallyscaredjoel #sarahisalive(YAY) #smokerjoel #banter #hatesex #roughsex #semipublicsex #oralsex #semibratreader #bestfriend'sbrother #romantictension #heavyyearningandangst #flashbacks #lotsofplotbeforeandafterporn #abusive/toxicrelationships #trauma #mommyissues #pregnacyscares

♡ Chapter 1

♡ Chapter 2

♡ Chapter 3

♡ Chapter 4

♡ Chapter 5

♡ Chapter 6

♡ Chapter 7

♡ Chapter 8

♡ Chapter 9

♡ Chapter 10

♡ Chapter 11

♡ Chapter 12

♡ Chapter 13

♡ Chapter 14

♡ Chapter 15

♡ Chapter 16

♡ Chapter 17

♡ Chapter 18

♡ Chapter 19

♡ Chapter 20

♡ Chapter 21

♡ Chapter 22 - coming soon

♡ Extras:

Young Joel and Tommy moodboard

Young Joel and Reader moodboard

© followyourfleart 2025

[burningdevotion]

driving him wild

Joel Miller x fem!reader

plot: every once in a while, Joel just needs some alone time with his girl, a romantic getaway, which is why he loves to take you out on his horse to go escape into the woods - more often than not it leads to both tender and intense moments of undisturbed bliss

a/n: hi! I got more interaction on my last Joel fics than I expected (thank u <3) so I was in the mood to write some more :) this one is mostly smut but they’re very in love, so it has its inherent sweetness and plot as well, hope you enjoy! (ca. 7k words)

warnings: large age-gap (reader in her 20s, Joel is 60), oral (r!receiving), fingering, squirting, ass-play, unprotected anal and p in v, multiple orgasms, coming inside, bit of daddy kink, older!bf!Joel is a filthy giver, outdoor sex

it was a perfect summer day: blue skies, fluffy clouds that looked straight out of a painting, and a breeze so soft it felt like a gentle caress each time it brushed over your skin where it was exposed - it seemed like a miracle after yet another brutal Jackson winter, everyone´s bodies and souls seemingly in bloom together with all the flowers the second the ice melted away and rivers started flowing again, pure relief. 

and yet, as much as you were enjoying the sun, you still had a soft spot for the colder months since you and Joel had fallen in love during the winter and had spent long nights hidden away in his bed, sweating and flushed even while it was freezing outside, snuggled up in his big arms, always soothed by his natural warmth whenever you came inside shivering, always aching for more and more of his kisses whenever he pulled you into a tight embrace and made sure to infuse every last inch of you with heat again and oh how he did. he left you gasping for air and in need of a big glass of water whenever he was done with you during those dark hours. yeah, the Texan man who loved to curse the snow would miss some aspects of winter too, deeply so.

the second it got warmer, Joel had an idea and tried to benefit from a bit of nepotism by asking his brother to sign you and him for patrol, which was really just supposed a date, an excuse to escape for a while and be totally undisturbed out there. Tommy knew better than to dare and keep Joel from spoiling his girl, to get in his way when he wanted to please you and be alone with you, so, you ended up riding out into the woods every once in a while during the spring and summer, just you and him and mother nature, full privacy and freedom.

Joel did always carry his rifle when you two got on a horse and exposed yourselves to certain kinds of dangers that might be lurking outside of Jackson, he wasn´t careless, especially not when it came to his girl, but he knew that out under the trees you were safe, since he´d hear an infected stumbling over the twigs and leaves way before they could ever reach you, and besides, it had luckily been a while since any of them had been sighted near Jackson, the cruel winter having done a good job there.

it was always a romantic outing, Joel loved to suss out an area that was both safe and idyllic, dense trees and bushes and running water, little patches of moss flower beds, somewhere nice where you could relax together, forget the time and just be in love without worrying about who might see you kiss, touch, make love. Joel was not a man who smiled often but out there with you, he was a changed man, relaxed, happy, wishing he could just keep travelling the open road with you for the rest of his days. 

it quickly became a ritual that he would nudge you awake in the morning and kiss your sleepy face while whispering “rise and shine, sugar. I´m taking you out today”. it was your one way of feeling like you were on a proper date, away from prying eyes, alone in the world, and both of you cherished those days like people before the outbreak might have cherished fancy dinners or lux vacations, which had never been Joel´s thing in the first place, all her ever needed was the woman he loved and some peace and quiet for once, that was his idea of heaven, and every once in a while he could take his angel and spend some time there.

that day, you put on a pretty white dress that a friend of yours had sewn for you in return for you baby-sitting her kids, a lovely lace fabric that went down to right above your knees, the daintiest little bows on the straps, paired with some sturdy but cute brown cowboy boots, and one of Joel´s brown jackets to match, in case you got cold. that look drove the man insane and you knew it, he kept you on his lap and felt you up for a good while before he managed to pull himself away and lead you to stables to get on his horse, you right behind him, arms around his waist, head resting against his shoulder, just how you both liked it.

the thing you loved most about those days with him was the he always became more overtly affectionate - Joel was a deeply private lover, except for a hand on the lower back or a gentle squeeze here and there he wasn´t the type to be all over you in public, but out there he could grab and kiss and hold you however he wanted without feeling paranoid about who might be staring a little too eagerly. 

on the ride out into the woods, you were soothed by the rhythm of his horses steady movements, the wind on your face, his smell, the dizzyingly delicious mix of worn-out leather and pine-scented soap and his own distinct musk, smiling to yourself and feeling a tingle whenever he reached back to run his hand over your thigh, one of the reasons why you always wore shorts and dresses out there instead of jeans.

once you reached a pretty spot under some large trees, right by a creek that emanated soothing sounds of waves, he hopped down from his horse and then hoisted you down too, his palms firm on your sides at first before he wrapped both of his arms around you and spun you around a few times to hear you giggle, to prove that he might be sixty but could still handle you, toss you around with ease if he wanted to, which you were luckily well-aware of already. 

before you could spread out your blanket and get comfortable together, you both agreed to move your legs for a second to get the blood rushing again after sitting for a good amount of time before. 

that day was particularly warm, so you decided to take off your boots and socks and feel the forest floor right under your bare feet, you dipped them into the cool water nearby for a moment and inspected the little lilac blossoms that grew right next to it, lost in thought, happy - meanwhile Joel just stood back and watched you, quiet, his heart growing ten sizes as he watched you soak up those simple pleasures, enamored by your every move.

he knew how harsh the world had been to you and it wasn´t easy for him to think of it, the fact that you never got to have a normal childhood, pancakes on Sunday morning, sleepovers for your friend´s birthdays, trips to the cinema, that you had never really felt carefree, it drove him mad that you never had a single of the experiences that young women before the outbreak had had, drinks with girlfriends, going out to a concert, strolling through bookstores, taking weekend trips to the beach, hell even just getting an overprized sugary caramel coffee, none of it. it was hard for Joel not to spiral into thoughts about everything you´d never gotten to experience but seeing you take such pleasure in such little joys such as a pretty flower or good weather, it made him burst with affection for you and promise to himself once more that he´d find a way to keep seeing that smile on your face, over and over. he´d give you everything he could, limited resources be damned, he´d find a way. he would. he had to. 

eventually, you made your way over to a tree right across from the one he was leaning back against and eyed him with a distinct hunger, coy about it but clearly checking him out, his broad shoulders in that tight blue flannel of his, the white tank top underneath that made his skin look even more than usual, his jeans fitting just right, a grin on his face as he held eye-contact and slowly rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to expose his strong forearms, well-aware of what that view did to you, just like you knew what you were doing when you put on that little dress earlier that day, your legs driving him crazy even from a few feet away.

Joel came close and closer until you could almost reach out and touch him but he beat you to it: he took your hand, caressed your palm with his thumb for a moment, and then lifted it up to kiss it. every single knuckle. slow. reverent. eyes shut. you melted on the spot. but he wasn´t done. once he´d kissed your hand, he moved on to the soft flesh of your wrist, the underside of your arm, he nuzzled his face against it, the scruff of his beard tickling you, until he left a final kiss on the crook of your elbow and opened his eyes again. he stood back while you kept your fingers laced through his and said “my pretty lil´forest fairy”. 

you laughed quietly, bashful, a little smug when you realized yet again how soft he had turned for you, Joel Miller, the gruff old man, coming up with cute silly nicknames on the spot. 

“oh, that´s what I am, hm?” you teased and smiled at him, nudging his leg with your foot lightly, which made him lean in real close to trap you against the tree with his arms as he whispered “hmm, so sweet and radiant.. so beautiful..”. he kissed your neck right where your pulse was increasing by the second, you arms snaking around his back to hold on, a gasp when he bit down ever so lightly and groaned “so goddamn soft too”, breathing in your scent mixed with the smell of the nature the surrounded you - it awakened something primal in him, an animalistic kind of need, the need to have you out there, in the wild and you felt it too, whimpering as he left open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and throat and face and finally on your lips, one of your legs wrapped around the back of his to keep him from moving away even an inch, the rough material of his pants rubbing up against the thin one of your dress. you couldn´t help but grind up against his hips a little as you gave him deep, sloppy kisses and felt him shudder, the friction killing him, your nails running down the back of his shirt only intensifying his growing arousal, his craving for you, that familiar hunger. 

“careful there…” he grunted and held you by your shoulders as he pulled back and saw saliva glistening on your lips, staring at you like a man starved. “why?” you asked, clearly messing with him, hands on his waist, so he massaged your exposed shoulders with intent, smiling when he heard you gasp from it, and said “because. I´m feeling pretty thrilled to have my girl out here, far away from everyone who might see.” a pause before he added in a raspy, low voice “or hear”. 

you felt yourself grow hot all over then and completed the thought for him “to do with as you please, hm?” your skin suddenly burning, not just from the sunlight but from a growing heat between your legs that spread all throughout you like wildfire. you wanted him badly. 

“damn right” he agreed as his eyes wandered down to the top of your dress, acutely aware of the fact that you weren´t wearing a bra underneath. without warning, he groped your chest through the fabric and ran his thumb over your nipples, hardening them within seconds, cupping both of your tits and squeezing them as you moaned and dug your nails into his arms in response. 

“wish we were always alone like this, can´t stand when we´re out in town all day and have to behave ourselves..” he kneaded your sensitive flesh and watched you shut your eyes, whining from it, enjoying the ache he was forcing to your core. 

he wasn´t done talking to you, so he watched you struggle to keep your composure and continued “hmm.. seeing you in this sinful dress or those little shorts and keeping my hands to myself.. it´s torture baby” he groaned and heard you sigh “no need to behave right now, is there?” so he thought oh. absolutely. and pulled on the neckline of your dress until your chest spilled out, leaning down to kiss them both feverishly before he sucked one of your nipples between his lips and flicked his tongue over it, circled it, and heard you utter a high-pitched “oh..god” as you both grew painfully desperate, squirming in his grip, head pressed up against the bark of the tree, like he was devouring his prey - something about getting hot and heavy out there under the open sky felt taboo even though nobody could´ve stumbled upon you right then, it didn´t matter that you weren´t taking that big of a risk at all, it still felt deliciously wild to have him ravish you like that outside of the confines of a room.

he sucked on both of your tits until they were raw in the most pleasurable way, leaving you panting and increasingly wet as he pulled away and ran a finger over your lower lip, felt his patience snap as you licked over the tip of it, and grunted “can never get enough… need you right here, right now…”.

and with that, he gave you another deep kiss and then dropped to his knees. pushed up your dresse, bunched it up around your waist, and lifted one of your leg over his shoulder. he  kissed your thighs all over, eager to reach every little delicious spot as you let out a shuddering sigh and gripped his head and caressed his hair as he kissed his way up your inner thighs and kept his hands on your hips, massaging you in a gentle yet possessive manner, breathing heavy when he lifted his head to meet your eyes and asked “can I get a taste baby… please, need it..”. 

Joel knew what it to you when he begged for it. he knew it and saw it in your needy expression then as you recalled all those other times where he´d been dying to get his fill, no matter whether it was early in the morning during the day or late at night, sometimes Joel just need to get his mouth on you or he´d lose his mind, obsessed with your taste especially when you´d been breaking a sweat, greedy and pussy-drunk whenever he had you at his mercy and kept going and going until you had to tap out.

right then it was no different, so you nodded and watched him as he swiftly hooked his fingers under the sides of your panties and ripped them down, instantly burying his face in you and taking a deep breath while moaning to himself. the fresh air hitting your exposed skin was a lovely sensation paired with the pleasure of having him between your legs once again, you braced yourself and kept your leg over his shoulder as the bark of the tree rubbed up against your back and Joel slowly dipped his tongue between your folds to open you up, long, slow strokes up and down your throbbing cunt at first, to warm and slick you up as he tasted your growing wetness. he got into a sensual, filthy rhythm and heard your sweet little whimpers, your way of asking for more, so he focused on your clit and flicked the tip of his tongue over it with just the right speed, again and again, leaving you a whimpering mess, tugging at his hair and pressing his head even more against yourself as he circled your clit and sucked on it in maddening intervals, your cunt so drenched and swollen by then that it made him wanna eat you up forever and ever, lost in the heady, sweet scent of you, the velvety texture, the heat all up in his face - he could´ve had you riding his tongue like that for ages, guiding your hips as you rocked them to meet his fevered movements, eating you out like he was scared he´d never get to do it again, greedily lapping at you pussy as his knees ached from being pressed against a few little twigs, slurping it all up and going in for more, savoring every single move of his tongue up and down your pulsing flesh. Joel could´ve been kneeling on hot coals and it wouldn´t have stopped him from giving you head. never. 

you slid down the tree and squealed as he hit just the right speed, almost fully sitting on his face then as he moaned into you and kept his tongue pushed in as deeply as possible, relentless, holding your leg right over his shoulder to keep you open and exposed, even when you were starting to shake and cry out, his eating sounds so nasty and sexy as he kept tongue-fucking you to oblivion until you moaned “fuck fuck I´m coming” and shuddered so hard that he couldn´t help but smile up against your core as you rode out your orgasm against his messed up mouth and chin and nose, his hands ever so secure, refusing to let go. 

he pulled his head away from you and smiled up at you, caressing your shaky legs to soothe you as he groaned “fuck me, I swear you get more delicous each day… wanna drown in this fucking pussy” his face back between your legs for a moment as he got a last whiff of you and nuzzled his mouth right up against your inner thigh where you were leaking. 

you were undone but so ready for more, which made you whine and look at him with pleading doe-eyes, which was all he needed to see in order to give you more.

“I´ve got you baby” he said and took off his jacket to spread it out right next to the tree, too impatient to go to his horse and get a real blanket, gesturing for you to join him “come here, right here” he sighed and sat with his back against the tree, his legs apart to make room for you, so you gave in and sat right there, your back flush against his chest, his arms wrapped around you as you laid back and felt soothed by the soft breeze, the sound of leaves rustling, his intense warmth and the grumbling sound deep in his chest. he gently coaxed your legs further apart and made you prop them up as he kissed the side of your neck and pulled your dress up again, his hand palming your wetness and his thumb drawing slow circles over your clit as you mewled softly and felt your cunt clenching, aching to be filled.

Joel pressed soft kisses to your neck and face and whispered to you “hmm, you know what the best thing about being out here is?” while gathering up all of your juices to spread them over your cunt and get your ready for more, rubbing all over the area, teasing your clit over and over, jolts of pleasure ripping through you and making you press your head back against his shoulder as he continued the thought “you dont gotta be quiet at all, so lemme hear you, yeah baby? don´t hold any of those sweet sounds back”. 

you managed to get out a breathy “yeah… yeah okay”, followed but unrestrained needy whimpers, so he rewarded you and slowly slid a finger into you, very quickly adding a second one to spread you open as he felt your walls adjust around his knuckles, pleased by the way you spread your legs even wider and leaned back against him, gasping in relief. 

you moaned and held onto his legs that were right by your sides, loving the familiar feel of his big fingers sinking all the way into your pussy until he couldn´t get them any further, the way he started pumping them in and out ever so slowly, perverse with it, catching a glimpse of his slicked up fingers before he drove them right back in, his free arm around your chest to keep you right where he wanted you, embracing and trapping you at the same time, something about that position so tender and yet so intense that it only made you more aroused, that feeling of being cradled while also being finger-fucked to a point of seeing stars, hearing him whisper praises to you all throughout and pressing hot kisses wherever he could reach, talking so sweet while being so filthy. yeah, he was the one for you. 

his fingers were faster then, eliciting lewd squelching sounds that turned both of you on beyond belief, each wet sound only resulting in more wetness, your cunt swallowing his fingers up so good that he added a third and praised you “takin me so well baby, so damn well, so wet and open for me” a kiss to your cheek as he worked his fingers into your aching cunt and felt your cum leaking around his knuckles, driven insane by your loud yet fragile sounding moans, drinking them all up as he saw you moving your hips to fuck yourself on his fingers and groaned “there you go baby, that´s it, take what you need from daddy, stuff that pretty pussy all by yourself, good girl, good fuckin girl” his lips never leaving your face as you felt your abdomen tighten and tighten with the impending release, moving your pussy up against his fingers with deep need as he hit just the right spot inside, drooling a little from how intensely you were crying out. 

“christ, listen to her baby….” he marveled as your pussy was flooded by your arousal and made the most dizzying wet sounds from his big fingers that were filling it up just right, over and over, his speed increasing to fuck you senseless and hear all that good juice loud and clear. 

“I´m so close fuck, I can´t, I can´t-” you whined, helpless in that state of utter lustfilled insanity, so he assured you “shhh I´ve got you baby, I´ve got you, just let go, lemme take care of it”, fucking into you so hard and deep then that you were hit by that familiar sensation: something close to the feeling of having to pee, but not quite, and you knew he was the type to crave the sight of it, so you told yourself to just give in and let it all out, no shame, no holding back, and twisted and arched up as it hit you, an orgasm so intense that the release made you squirt all over his hand, your cunt spasming around his fingers so hard that he felt his cock aching in his jeans and his vision almost blurring. “fuckkk yes look at that jesus christ baby” he mumbled and held you with his free hand as he couldn´t believe his luck and slowed down his fingering a little but stayed inside your ruined cunt as you went slack against him and twitched from the combined feeling of having your muscles release like that and your juices squirting out over his fingers, a little shy about how loud you´d screamed from it, wrecked with pleasure as he slowly slid his fingers out and gave your aching pussy a gentle pat, keeping his big hand on it as you calmed down and whimpered in the aftermath, head resting against his arm, so fucked out but so desperate for even more, insatiable by then, high on it all.

he licked his hand clean, caressed your cheek, and then wrapped both arms around you to feel all the little twitches he was responsible for, nose buried in your hair, mumbling “spoiling me here baby…all that sweet honey just for me… damn”. 

he did have a thing for making you squirt, it wasn´t news to you, how filthy he was, and it made you smile a tired smile against the fabric of his shirt, coming down from your high and eager for another one, delirious with the need to have your brains fully fucked out. you could tell from his labored breaths and the way he was holding onto you that his cock was probably hard as a rock by then, and the mental image alone drove you crazy, so you peeled yourself away from him and sighed “need you in me, need you, daddy…”. Joel watched you move and realized that you were trying to get on your hands and knees, so he switched his position as well and got up to get behind you as he sighed “goddamit babygirl, you´ll be the death of me…” running his hands through his hair as you hiked up your dress and exposed yourself to him while finding a way to get on all fours comfortably. 

Joel moved your dress up even higher and saw your wetness shimmering in the midday sunlight “needa be nice n´ full, yeah?” he asked while caressing your back and settling on his knees as well, so you looked back at him and nodded while whining “hmm need you so deep inside”, nearly choking on your spit when he started unbuckling his belt, your eyes wide, biting your lip as he handled the rough leather. before you could stop yourself or overthink it you asked him “you want my ass?”. 

Joel froze up. stopped what he was doing. oh. you were playing dirty. first calling him “daddy” like it was his name and then asking him that. you knew exactly how much he loved, no, worshipped your backside. you could still remember the first time you´d tried anal with him, how loudly he´d moaned, how much he´d praised you, how often he said that he was obsessed with it, how hard he´d come from it. Joel was an ass man just as much he was a tits man a thighs man an everything man, he never understood men who didn´t want their women fully, every lovely part of them, but he also wasn´t the type to pressure you, at all, it was all about your pleasure for him, so he never asked for it, always waited for you to be in the mood to have him in your ass, aware that it only felt good for his girl when she was fully into it and relaxed, but when you did tell him to do it, he was blissed out, feral, beyond happy to fuck you that way. few things made him happier than to have your face smushed into the pillow and your peach all up in his face, ready to be devoured.

“gonna ruin me talking like that baby… course I want it… always do” he grunted and made sure you meant it but you begged him to go on, so he did. at first, he put his face between your cheeks and licked all around your puckering hole, hearing you moan “oh yes…that´s so good..” and lower your head to be face down on his jacket as he got into it. Joel kept his big hands right on the soft flesh of your ass to keep you nice and open as he moaned and licked all over your hole, feeling it twitch, drooling onto you to get you nice and lubed up, deeply turned on by the trust you showed him, the deep intimacy of it, one of his hands reaching down to play with your clit as he ate your ass all slow and nasty, your body relaxing into it, your sighs and whimpers egging him on as you wiggled your ass a little to tease him, the feel of his tongue on your hole so good, so soothing and arousing at once, that you were aching to have it stuffed, stretched, overstimulated. 

Joel could hear that you were ready for more so he pulled away and spit onto his fingers to get them nice and slippery, unwilling to cause any discomfort, and groaned as he saw your little rosebud puckering in anticipation. without losing any more time he inched one finger into your hole and cursed under his breath from how perfect it felt, the sight of your ass sucking him up so intoxicating that he kept a close look and added a second finger, careful, making sure “you feeling good baby? want more?” and giving in when you immediately moaned “yes yes fuck, I love it, more, please”. his second finger felt divine but your ass was not full enough, not yet, so you whined and looked back at him while pleading “want your cock, need that cock in me, please”. 

his eyes were half-lidded and full of both affection and hunger as he looked at you and kept teasing your hole with slow deep pumps of his fingers as he asked “yeah? want me to fuck this perfect lil ass? make it nice n´ full? that what you need, baby?”. he fingered your ass faster then, prepping you good and making your walls flutter with the ache for more in there, your pussy leaking still, and heard you cry “yes please need it so bad”, so he groaned “I can tell… sucking me up so fuckin good”.

with a wet pop he slid his fingers out and pulled his jeans all the way down, his boxers too, his throbbing cock springing free and a low, animalistic grunt from him as he licked over his palm and started stroking it to make sure it would slide in with ease, bucking up into his own hand as he got drunk on the sight of you on all fours with your pretty white dress hiked up, looking back at him so sweetly, such need written all over your face, his pretty girl out there in the wild, letting him do all that, like you were animals in heat, fitting right into the landscape. you nearly lost your mind when you saw him like that: his jeans and underwear at his knees, his muscular thighs exposed, cock in his hand, the hair above it just as visible as the happy trail leading down to it, his strong upper body still covered by his shirt but a sliver of his lower stomach exposed, the veins in his forearms bulging, his body practically vibrating, god the man was a sight when he got riled up like that. 

within no tim, he was holding your hip with one hand as he guided his swollen, leaking cock to your hole that was still wet with his saliva and inched himself in, slowly, ever so slowly, letting out a loud, guttural “fuuuckkk baby” with each inch, scared that he might come on the spot from the feeling of being inside your ass. you shut your eyes and pressed your face against his jacket, feeling the dirt and stones beneath it as you kept your lower half lifted up in the air and fisted the fabric to hold onto something as you felt his length stretch you wide open and mumbled “yes oh my god”, turned on by how intimate yet perverse it always felt, something about it so addictive that you wished he could fuck you in both holes at the same time, Joel praising you with a cracked voice “so damn tight.. so good”, your hole instantly letting him in, your arousal and trust for him making it easy for him, the sensation so heavenly that you drooled a bit. 

Joel went deeper and deeper until he bottomed out and then stilled for a moment to move and hover over you and kiss your neck, one arm around your middle, the other reaching to gently wrap his hand around your throat and tilt your head to kiss you, giving you love as he started moving, in and out, in and out, nice and steady, a few inches, then a full hard thrust back in, sensing how ready you were for it, so proud of you for the way you took him like it was nothing, enjoying yourself so freely, moaning for him like you were letting out siren-calls, irresistible. it turned you on to a crazy degree, to have him above you like that, so big and warm and strong, covering your entire backside, so animalistic yet so loving. you almost wished for an audience, aware that it must´ve looked wild, him taking you like that out there, filling his girls ass out in the open. god how that made you whimper and shake with each thrust, the idea of being seen in that position.  

his hips met your ass over and over as he quickly lost his composure and sunk deep into your wet little hole over and over, grunting with each thrust, kissing your shoulder and feeling your ass clench around his throbbing cock like a vice, refusing to let go, sucking him right up, all the way, over and over, stretching wider and wider, giving him room to fuck you good, so he moved back behind you, gripped your hips firmly, and started really giving it to you. 

Joel railed your ass and filled the air with slapping sounds as he shut his eyes and forced himself to hold out, driving you to near insanity as you desperately rubbed your clit and tried to stay in position while your cheek was smooshed against his jacket, your arm working furiously to jerk off while he filled your up over and over, his cock just big enough to make it intense and overwhelming without being too big to a point where it hurt, the feeling so divine that you begged him to keep doing it just like that, cursing the filthiest things like “this ass is all yours daddy, fuck, harder, please please” and him matching the energy every time while rutting into you, groaning “yeah baby that’s right, all mine, lettin me claim this pretty little hole, thats what you need, hm?” a slap to each of your cheeks to hear you squeal and whimper, another slap and another when he could tell that it would only make you come harder to have your cheeks sting like that while he filled you just right. 

he railed you from behind while grunting “fuck fuck hmpfff” for a while until you needed to switch positions and have more control, desperate to come all over him, so you whined “wanna sit on it daddy, let me sit on it”, so he slowed down and quickly slipped his cock out of your hole, leaving it gaping and crying for more, and hurried to sit back against the tree again and stroked himself furiously while waiting for you to come and join. 

you swatted his hand away and stroked him for a moment as you grinding yourself up against his thigh, your pussy aching for relief, so he nodded and sighed “yeah take that cock and make it yours baby, fuck, drench me, wanna be covered”. 

he didn´t need to tell you twice, so after a few more moments of rutting yourself against the muscle of his leg, you kept holding his hardness as you hovered over him and slowly lowered yourself. you knew it wasn´t ideal to have him fuck your ass and then take it in the front right after, but in that moment you didn´t care at all, you took the risk, you had to, you were about to cry from how badly you need him deep inside your cunt, so he let you take what you needed and watched you cry and whimper as you sat down on him, all the way, your pussy fluttering around his big cock and immediately drenching him with all the built-up arousal. 

Joel caressed your neck and moved his hand up to put two of his fingers in your mouth, giving you something to suck on as you started moving your hips, hands braced on his shoulders, the straps of your dress slipping down your shoulders, the hem of it a little dirty, Joel moaning to himself, ruined by the sight of you looking that beautifully undone, on top of him, all his, the sun making you glow, the wind in your hair, your tits spilling out of the fabric and bouncing a little with each roll of your hips, so primal and yet so pretty, all of it straight out of a fantasy of his.

within no time you were bouncing on him, sliding up and down his cock again and again, addicted to the slick, hot sensation, the burning ache at your core where his hard length was hiding you just right, overcome with such intense pleasure that you had to lean in and kiss him, whimpering against his lips as you started making out while riding him, turned on by the romance of it, always chasing kisses during positions where you could reach his mouth, his arms wrapped around your back, hands stroking your spine as he kissed you back with deep passion and bucked his hips up to help you get off, holding you close as you felt yourself grow erratic from the build-up of another orgasm, deep inside your core.

after while you broke the kiss and leaned back, hands next to his legs as you kept going and going, desperate to come, so Joel licked his thumb and reached down to rub your clit, to get you there, which made you whine “ohhh fuck...” all fucked out and needy, so he kept adding pressure to your swollen bud and watched in awe as you rode him, his cock painfully hard by then, leaking, but determined to have you come first, so he shushed you and assured you “I know sweetie, I know, doing so good for me, takin me so damn deep, arent ya? just a bit more, you’re so close baby”.

you looked at him then and moaned as you nodded, since he was right, the man was big and girthy, so he was hitting all the right spots deep inside, leaving you a mess, giving it to you the way you craved and yet sometimes feared you couldn´t take much more of when you were so close to a release but so weak and desperate. 

“atta girl, just like that, let it all out” Joel encouraged you and pulled you close against his chest while fucking up into you harder and mumbling against your neck “goddamn youre gonna drain me baby, fuck”, hugging you tight and lifting you a bit to fuck into you from below and let you give into it without having to move your sore hips any more, which was the thing to do you in for good. you wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life as his hips snapped against you over and over, crying out “yes, come in me, fill me up, please”. 

Joel grunted “good girl, good fucking girl” and went about as hard and fast as he could, fucking you to tears as he felt your pussy squeezing him without mercy, so you whimpered “don´t stop gonna make me come”, to which he groaned out “come all over this cock baby, come with daddy, gonna fill you up now, hold on” - and with that, his hips stuttered and he thrust up into you deeply one last time before he shuddered and you felt his cum leaking inside of you which made your orgasm rip through you at the same moment, both of you cursing and shaking as he emptied himself in you in thick, warm spurts of his cum while you drained every last drop from him with how hard your pussy clenched around him at the peak of the climax. 

after the initial violent hit of your pleasure, both of you breathed out and shook all over, your wet heat still enveloping his cock as you felt him leaking in you, his grip on you losing and his embrace turning more gentle, hands caressing your back as his head lolled back against the tree and he sighed “fuck…”. 

you were in no hurry to get dow from him, at all, so you felt the aftershocks of the orgasm intensely as he was still buried deep inside you. after a moment of catching your breaths, Joel opened his eyes and gave you a tired but very pleased smile as he caressed your sides and felt your hands on his neck as you every so lightly grinded against him, to feel a little bit of friction, still letting out little mewls of pleasure, so he teased you and said “you okay there baby girl? feeling a bit needy still?” smug with it but very enamored and turned on by the view of you on him like that, glad to feel your perfect pussy around him a little longer.

“not my fault that you feel so good in me…” you sighed, which made him laugh and lean in to kiss your cheek while his hands wandered down to your ass and grabbed and squeezed while you kept cock-warming him.

after a while of that, he gave you a gentle slap to your thigh and said “alright, gotta get up, or I´ll keep you in my lap all day”. you reluctantly obeyed and lifted yourself up from him, your legs shaking as you tried to stand up straight and said “I´d manage”, which made Joel shake his head and smile as he also got up and pulled up his jeans and boxers. it didn´t matter to you that you could feel him leaking out of you then, you liked it and made no move to clean it up before you slipped your panties back on, you´d have to wash them either way. 

you adjusted your dress and brushed off the dirt as best as you could while you sighed “hard to believe that you´re a grandpa when you fuck me like that..”. Joel grinned smugly and watched you as he mused “oh, us grandpas are filthy, didn´t they tell you, darlin?” . he sounded more earnest then as he added “but yeah, what can I say… something about you out here, too tempting, sinful really. wish I could have you out under the sun all the time. you deserve that spotlight, beautiful girl”.

you went over to him and gave him a kiss, happy and sated, charmed by his way of putting that, whispering to him “you too big man, looking too handsome, as always” which made him roll his eyes and try his best not to blush or stutter.

“alright sweet thing, how about a nice dip in that creek to get ourselves cleaned up, hm? wash away these sins” he suggested, suddenly eager to really make the most of your time out there and to get some of the sweat off his body, so you agreed and took his hand to lead him to the flowing water nearby, walking for a moment until you reached a part where the water was deeper.

you both stripped down and you paused for a moment while you told him “the water is pretty cold, you know”. Joel grinned at your hesitation and said “come here baby, I´ll carry you in, how about that? nice and slow”, so you gladly let him scoop you up in his arms bridal style and held on as he waded into the water bit by bit and eventually lowered you in, feet at first, then your legs, then up to your waist, until you were standing and adjusted to the cool but soothing temperature. 

after a moment of cleaning your face and enjoying the sight of the sparkling sunlight on the surface, splashing him with water as he pretended to be pissed off by it, you decided to float on your back for a moment and Joel stood beside you let you hold onto him, so you wouldn´t be dragged away by the current. 

he felt his heart aching with love as he saw you there, eyes closed, your beautiful body covered in water, illuminated from above, like an angel, or mermaid, or some other magical creature, too good to be true. Joel traced the outline of your facial features with his index finger as you relaxed and confessed to you “y´know, whenever I see how happy you look out here, I wish I could just build you a house somewhere nearby. a garden for you. wanna give you so much more. you deserve the world..” he sounded almost choked up, so you went back to standing on your feet, the water splashing around your sides as you wrapped your arms around his wet, achingly handsome body and told him “that´s sweet. but don´t ever think I don´t already have everything I need, alright? this, us, is so much more than I ever dare to hope for, I´m so happy with the way we live. and this, this can stay our little adventure that we have once in a while. that´s perfect for me.” 

Joel tried to absorb your words and fight off that little voice in his head that always told him “she deserves more, do something about it” and pulled you into a hug while kissing your shoulder. “I´d do it though, these old knees be damned, I´d build you a village. I love you, darlin. so much.” he sighed, which made you hold on even tighter and echo it back to him.

afterwards, as you spread out your blanket and laid there nude in the sun, head on his chest, the wind drying your damp skin, peaceful, dazed, not a worry in the world for once.

you wished that you could go back in time and tell your younger self that even during the end of the world, there is love out there, a kind of love that can turn a small patch of a forest into a private paradise. Joel, of course, felt the exact same. the man who had once wished his life to come to a quick end, who was broken by grief, would not have believed it for one second if someone had told him that he´d love again one day. there you two were, beating the odds, safe in the shadow of the trees, in each other´s arms, in each other´s hearts.

[sweetonsin]

HEARTBREAK RED

inspired by ethel cains 'fuck me eyes'.

pairings: gentle!joel miller x ruined!reader

summary: you’re all red nails and tiny shorts, bruised up and bored, asking for trouble outside a liquor store. looking just like your momma did before the drugs. joel doesn’t fuck you, not at first. he feeds you, holds you, watches you fall asleep in his bed with your nail polish still wet. he fixes you slow, soft, careful. gives you what you need. including himself.

warnings: nsfw, 18+, fluffy!joel, protective!joel, large age gap implied, unprotected piv, slow burnish?, porn w/ little plot, mentions of domestic violence, reader copes using alcohol, mentions of drugs, deadbeatparents, finger fucking, orgasms, creampies, swearing, female anatomy.

WC: 5.3K

You're posted up on the curb, legs stretched long and lazy in cutoff denim that barely counts as shorts. You twirl a piece of hair around your red-stained finger—cheap polish, heartbreak red— bitten and chipped—and catch your reflection in the glass door. Lip gloss smeared. Tank top see-through in the heat.

Good.

Men come and go. Most don’t look twice. Some stare. You like when they stare.

You catch him in the corner of your eye—rough, broad, beard catching the light like salt and pepper under the sun. He’s weathered. Heavy hands. Sad eyes. One of those quiet, steady men who could break your neck or cradle it just the same.

Perfect.

“Hey,” you call, casual, like you’re not soaked in heat and sin, like your heart isn't rotten under your ribs. “You mind grabbing me a bottle? Forgot my ID.”

You flutter your lashes. Bite your lip. Tilt your head just enough to look harmless.

He doesn’t stop walking, just glances at you—slow, from the bottom of your thighs to the tops of your lashes. There’s something sharp behind his eyes. Not lust. Not yet.

“How old are you?”

You shrug, lazy. “Old enough.”

“Yeah? Old enough for what?”

You grin. “Whatever you’re thinkin’.”

He exhales like he’s already tired of the game. “Not happenin’, sweetheart.”

You watch him disappear inside, chewing your lip until the taste of blood cuts through the gloss. You’re used to yes. But no? That’s rare. That stings.

You roll your eyes, light a cigarette with shaking fingers. Your mom’s off somewhere with a needle in her arm and your daddy’s bones are long gone to dust. It’s just you now. You, and the buzz, and the boys too stupid to look deeper.

Except him.

He comes back out, bag in hand. Doesn’t say a word. Just unlocks his truck and throws the bag in the back seat. As he starts to climb in, his eyes flick to yours. Long. Hesitant. Like he’s not sure if he’s about to make a mistake or fix one.

“You want a beer?” he asks. “I got a few in the cooler.” He pauses before adding— “Names Joel.”

You blink. Joel.

He opens the passenger door.

“C’mon. I’ll drive you home.”

You smirk. “What makes you think I’ve got one?”

He doesn’t answer. Just waits.

So you climb in.

The truck smells like sweat and smoke and pine tree air freshener. You kick your bare feet up onto the dashboard, window down, toes catching the warm wind as it rolls through the darkening fields.

You nurse a cold beer, sipped slow, and let the silence stretch.

He drives like a man who’s lived long enough to know better. One hand on the wheel. Jaw clenched. Eyes ahead.

But he keeps looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

Your legs. Your mouth. Your hair piled up halfway to God, strands stuck to your neck from the heat.

And then—your eyes. That’s what does it. Not the body. Not the laugh. The eyes.

His mouth hardens.

“You Jane’s daughter?” he asks, voice like gravel.

You glance at him, lazy. “Mhm.”

He scoffs under his breath. Shakes his head.

“You look just like your momma,” he mutters. “Before the drugs.”

You laugh. It’s bitter. “I know.”

“She used to wear her hair like that,” he says. “You even got that same damn freckle under your eye.”

You run a thumb under it, pretending to wipe away invisible mascara. “Guess I’m just the ghost of her fucked up past.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

You raise a brow. “Like what?”

He shifts in his seat, irritated. Not at you—at himself.

“At least she used to be sweet,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes, taking another sip of your beer. It burns going down this time.

He drops you off outside a trailer with one busted window and a porch light swinging loose. You half expect him to peel off and disappear, like the rest.

But he doesn’t.

He kills the engine and sits back, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

You finish the beer. Swing your legs back inside. The heat sticks to your thighs, sweat in the bend of your knees.

“I know what you want,” you say softly. “You wouldn’t have offered me that ride if you didn’t.”

His eyes snap to you. Hard. Unreadable.

“I offered because I figured you’d be better off in my truck than out here flirtin’ with every drunk asshole who walks by.”

You lean closer, lips parting. “But you’re not just any asshole, are you?”

His jaw tics. He stares at your mouth like it’s poison.

Then he exhales, long and tired. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

He looks at you fully now—like he sees you, really sees you. Not the mouth. Not the legs. Just the wreckage underneath.

“This ain’t what you need,” he says. “A man twice your age who knew your mama back when she still had a future.”

You stare at him, heartbeat ticking in your throat. “Maybe I don’t want what I need.”

He shakes his head. Looks away.

“You’re just a kid,” he mutters.

You reach out. Press your hand to his thigh. Just enough to test. To tempt.

He catches your wrist, firm. Not rough. “Don’t.”

Silence.

You don’t pull away. You want him to want you. You want something to burn.

He lets go of your wrist and sighs again. “You don’t gotta act like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like love’s a thing you gotta earn with your body.”

You blink. It’s quiet. You hate how kind he sounds when he says that.

“Get inside,” he murmurs. “Before I forget how fucked up this is.”

You linger one second longer—just long enough to see the want in his eyes. That flicker of something dark and wrong and aching.

Then you slide out of the truck and disappear into the trailer.

He doesn’t leave right away.

—

It’s a week later. Friday again. The sky’s sick with heat and smog, the kind of Texas summer that makes the air feel mean.

Joel’s not planning to stop at the liquor store. He tells himself he’s just passing through, just needs gas, just wants to get home and not think for once.

But he sees you before he even pulls into the lot.

Same goddamn spot.

Same tiny shorts, legs stretched out long, red fingernails tapping a lazy rhythm against your thigh. Hair teased up like a crown of sin. A half-drained beer sweating in your hand.

But this time—

This time you’ve got a bruise blooming on your cheekbone. Dark purple. Ugly. Raw.

Joel kills the engine before he knows what he’s doing. He’s out of the truck, storming across the lot like something’s dragging him by the spine.

And there you are.

Still wearing that wicked little smirk, but your eyes look tired. Dull.

“Jesus Christ,” he growls. “You serious right now?”

You glance at him, bored. “What, no 'hi'? Not even a beer to offer this time?”

He stops in front of you. Stares at the bruise. At your lip, a little split on the corner.

“Who did that to you?” His voice is sharp. No patience.

You take a swig of the warm beer and roll your eyes. “What does it matter?”

“It matters.”

“No it don’t.” You smile again, teeth all spite. “S’just how it goes sometimes.”

He steps in closer. Towering. Looming. Not touching you, but you feel the heat of him anyway.

“Tell me who touched you.”

You snort. “Why are you even worried, huh? Ain’t you the one who said this was all ‘fucked up’?”

“That don’t mean I don’t care.” His voice breaks at the end. Rough with guilt, or something worse.

You blink at that. It almost sounds like the truth.

You lean back against the wall, beer dangling from your fingers. “Well, don’t. You’ll just be disappointed.”

He runs a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps like he’s trying not to punch a hole in the fucking sky.

“Goddammit,” he mutters. “Get in the truck.”

“What for?”

“I’m takin’ you home.”

“I don’t have one. Not no more.”

“Then you’re coming to mine.”

You don’t fight him on it.

You climb in barefoot, curl your legs up in the seat, and let the wind whip through the cab. You watch him out of the corner of your eye while he drives—jaw clenched, knuckles white on the wheel.

He doesn’t look at you at first.

But when he does—when his eyes flick down and catch the bruising on your neck, faint fingerprints just beginning to blossom beneath your collarbone—something breaks.

“Fuck.” He slams a hand against the steering wheel. “Fucking hell.”

You don’t flinch. You just take another sip and murmur, “Not like it’s the first time.”

He pulls over. Hard. Tires screech a little against gravel as the truck jerks to a stop.

Then silence. Thick. Boiling.

“Who was it?” he demands, turning toward you now, eyes wide, wild. “Tell me their name. Tell me what they drive. I swear to god—”

You sigh. “You ain’t my dad, Joel.”

His mouth tightens. He turns away, breathing hard, like he's trying to shove all that rage back down his throat.

“I know that,” he says finally. Quiet. Bitter. “But someone should’ve been.”

That makes your throat go tight. You stare out the window.

After a minute, his voice comes again. Lower this time.

“You don’t gotta live like this, baby.”

You blink. Hard.

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper. “Not if you’re gonna leave me here anyway.”

His hand twitches like he wants to reach for you. But he doesn’t.

Not yet.

“You drunk?” he asks.

You shrug. “Little. Not enough.”

He watches you. So long and deep it starts to hurt.

You don’t say anything else for the rest of the drive. Neither does he.

His hand stays white-knuckled on the gearshift. The silence sits thick between you, hot like blood. Your head rests against the window glass, the wind tugging at your hair, cooling the beer-sweat on your thighs.

You’re not used to men who don’t want something.

You're not used to silence that doesn’t scream what did you expect?

Joel’s house is outside of town—quiet, tucked behind rows of pecan trees and dying grass. It’s nothing fancy. Just a porch, some shade, a battered fence that doesn’t keep anything out.

He kills the engine, then turns to you.

“C’mon.”

You blink slowly. “What, no lecture?”

“No. Just a bed.”

You expect him to touch you. A hand to the small of your back, a palm on your thigh, something. But he doesn’t. He leads you inside like you’re made of glass.

Or like he’s afraid to break himself.

The house smells like cedar and old coffee. It’s warm. Lived-in. You stand in the entryway, swaying just a little, letting your eyes adjust to the dim light.

Joel toes his boots off and says, “You can sleep in the guest room. Sheets are clean. You hungry?”

You shrug.

He disappears into the kitchen, and you wander down the hall, fingers dragging along the faded wallpaper. You find the room. Bed made. Lamp glowing soft gold.

You sit on the edge and stare at your bruised knees.

There’s a knock.

Joel’s voice, low through the cracked door. “Brought you somethin’.”

You don’t answer. He comes in anyway—holding a glass of water and a pill bottle.

“Tylenol,” he says. “You’ll feel it all worse come mornin’.”

You reach for the water, your fingers brushing his. His eyes drop again—to your neck. Your jaw.

He sets the bottle on the nightstand, and just as he turns to go, you say it:

“I didn’t ask him to hit me.”

Joel stops. Shoulders tense.

“I believe you,” he says.

You nod. “My mom used to say the same thing. Every time.”

A pause.

You look up. Your throat feels raw.

“I don’t know why you care.”

His jaw works. “’Cause someone should.”

You fall asleep in his guest bed wearing one of his shirts—faded gray, soft from years of washing. It smells like pine and smoke. It swallows your frame whole.

Your hair’s loose now, falling across the pillow like a halo. Your cheek bruised. Lips parted. So small in that bed, you barely look real.

Joel watches from the doorway.

He watches too long.

It’s barely light when you wake. You’re thirsty. Confused. Quiet.

And there’s Joel—on the couch, still in his jeans and boots, arms crossed, head tilted back.

He didn’t sleep.

You pad into the room, your legs bare, the hem of his shirt hanging just under your ass.

He opens his eyes.

“Can’t sleep in your own bed?” you murmur.

He runs a hand over his face. “Didn’t wanna leave you alone.”

You step closer. Knees brushing his.

“Still worried I’m gonna break?”

He looks up at you. Tired. Torn.

“You already look broken.”

You crawl into his lap before he can say another word.

He tenses under you. “Don’t—”

But you’re not kissing him. Not grinding. You just curl into him, resting your head against his shoulder. Breathing slow.

His arms come around you—stiff at first, then tight. Tight like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I don’t know how to be good,” you whisper.

He presses his mouth to your hair.

“I’ll take care of you anyway.”

His shirt swallows your frame. Your thighs stretch warm and bare over his jeans, your cheek resting on his chest. Every rise and fall of his breath rocks you gently, like the sea.

And then you say it.

Quiet. Measured. Meant.

“I ain’t got nothin’ to give you.”

Joel blinks.

“I didn’t ask for anything,” he says.

You wrap your arms around your knees and stare down at the fraying hem of his shirt.

“You’re bein’ nice,” you say. “Gentle. Feels like a trick.”

“It ain’t.”

You chew on your thumbnail, voice soft. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

He shifts toward you, his voice calm but deep, solid like the ground. “Then don’t do anything. Just stay.”

You look at him through your lashes. Raw. “I’m used to bein’ wanted. Not… taken care of.”

His jaw tics. He says your name low, like it hurts.

“I ain’t gonna touch you unless you ask me to. And even then—only if I believe you mean it.”

You blink slow.

“That ain’t what this is,” he adds. “I’m not tryin’ to sleep with you. I just want to keep you safe.”

You scoff a little. “Safe’s just a word. Doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Joel nods. “Then I’ll show you.”

And he does.

He starts small.

Feeds you—warm cornbread with honey butter, eggs over easy, cold peaches straight from the fridge. He doesn’t hover. Just sets the plate down, gives you that look, and walks away.

You start staying. One night turns to three. Then a week.

You clean a little. Wipe down his counters. Fold a blanket he left tossed over the couch. One day, you sweep the back porch barefoot, humming something low under your breath, and Joel forgets how to breathe for a second.

He brings you things.

A pair of fuzzy socks from the gas station.

A bottle of cherry red nail polish.

A tiny black comb for your lashes.

You sit on the couch with your legs across his lap, painting your nails slow, the sharp scent of acetone curling into the room like a warning. Joel watches the curve of your hand, the way your tongue peeks out as you focus.

“You always stare this much?” you tease, not looking up.

He doesn’t answer.

You grin. “That a yes?”

Still doesn’t answer.

But you feel it. The tension. Like a wire pulled taut between you.

Later that night, you find a new toothbrush in the bathroom. Still in the package. Waiting for you.

You sit on the edge of his bed that night—his, not the guest one—while he changes out of his flannel. You wear one of his old shirts again, your legs bare and tucked beneath you.

“Why are you doin’ all this?” you ask.

Joel looks over his shoulder. His voice is low. Worn.

“’Cause I care about you.”

You swallow. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

You don’t answer. Your throat’s too full.

He walks over, crouches in front of you. Takes your hand.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says. “I just want you alive, sweetheart.”

You blink fast. “That’s all?”

“That’s everything.”

Your voice is soft. Almost scared.

“I want you.”

He stills.

You look at him, eyes wide and unguarded. No teasing. No mask.

“I want you to touch me,” you say. “I know what I’m sayin’. I mean it.”

Joel breathes in through his nose, long and heavy. His jaw flexes, gaze locked on you like he’s bracing for something.

“Sweetheart,” he says quietly. “Don’t do that unless you’re sure.”

“I am sure.”

“I know you want to be,” he says. “But wantin’ someone and needin’ to feel wanted—they’re different things.”

You blink. Your throat is tight. “I know the difference, Joel.”

He searches your face. Hard.

You let him.

Finally, he lifts a hand. Brushes his thumb across your cheekbone—where the bruise has faded, soft now, a shadow of what it was.

His voice is hoarse. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He kisses you.

It’s slow. Careful. Not hungry or rough—nothing like the boys in back seats, the strangers in shadows. Joel kisses like he’s terrified of breaking you, hurting you.

You melt into it. Hands fisting in his shirt, mouth parting for his tongue.

You kiss him deeper. Press closer. Try to pull him down on top of you—

But he pulls away.

Gentle hands. Soft sigh.

“Not yet,” he whispers.

You freeze.

He touches your face again. Holds your jaw with his palm like you’re something fragile and warm.

“I want you, baby,” he says. “But not tonight.”

Your eyes flick away, embarrassed, afraid you did something wrong.

“I’m not sayin’ no,” he adds. “I’m sayin' I care. And I’m not gonna take you like this—tired and still piecin’ yourself together.”

You stare at him, breath held tight in your chest.

“I want you whole when I have you,” he says.

“If you’ll let me, I wanna be the man who waits.”

And something inside you breaks open.

That night, you sleep in his bed.

No sex. No rush.

Just his arms around you. Your head on his chest. His breath in your hair, steady and slow.

He holds you like he’s never going to let you go.

And for the first time in a long, long while—

You believe a man.

———

The mornings are your favorite.

You wake up warm, skin tangled in old cotton sheets and the soft press of Joel’s body at your back. His arm slung heavy over your waist. Sometimes he’s already awake, rubbing slow circles against your hipbone, breath steady at the nape of your neck.

He kisses your shoulder before you speak.

You brew the coffee. He makes the eggs. You sit on the counter in one of his shirts, bare legs swinging, red polish chipped and faded. He watches you like you hung the goddamn moon.

Some days, he brings you things—nothing big.

A peach from the roadside stand, warm from the sun.

A paperback he thought you’d like. You pretend to read it just so you can press the spine open and leave it on the table where he’ll see.

A little bottle of lavender nail oil.

You clean when you’re nervous. Rearranging the kitchen drawers, rewashing clean mugs, reorganizing his bookshelf alphabetically until he teases you for it. You paint your nails at the kitchen table while he tunes his guitar. Sometimes you hum along.

He looks at you like he wants things. Long things. Good things. Forever things.

And for a while, it’s easy.

Until it isn’t.

The argument starts over nothing.

Joel’s working late in the garage, shoulders tense, grease on his hands. You ask if he wants dinner. He mutters something distracted. Doesn’t really answer.

You try again.

He exhales sharp. Doesn’t look at you.

“You don’t gotta take care of everything all the time.”

You freeze.

Your heart drops into your stomach like a stone.

And then your voice goes quiet. Cold. “Right.”

Joel doesn’t look up.

So you keep going. “Didn’t realize I was being such a burden.”

He frowns. “That’s not what I said.”

“No, but you meant it.”

“For fuck’s sake, girl—”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap. “I’m not some stray dog you took in off the road. If you’re tired of me, just say it.”

Joel turns, eyes wide, expression wounded. “Tired of you?”

You scoff, blinking fast. “You didn’t even want me here in the first place.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he says, firm but calm.

“I don’t know anything, Joel! I don’t know what this is, I don’t know how to be here. I’m waiting for the day you wake up and realize I was just—just—something to fix.”

He walks over.

Slow.

No raised voice. No slammed doors. Just him, his steady hands, and his soft, heartbreak eyes.

You try to back away, but he catches your wrist—lightly. Warm.

“Hey,” he says. “Look at me.”

You don’t want to. But you do.

“I ain’t tired of you,” he murmurs. “I need you. I love havin’ you here.”

Your chin wobbles.

“I’m scared,” you whisper. “I don’t wanna be left again.”

“I know, baby.”

And then—your whole body crumples. Right there against his chest.

The sob hits you so hard it folds you in half. Joel wraps his arms around you tight and holds you like he’s the only thing keeping you from falling through the floor.

You cry for everything. For your mother. For the bruises. For all the nights you begged someone to see you. For all the ways Joel does.

He doesn’t shush you. Doesn’t rush it.

Just breathes with you. Anchors you.

And when the tears finally stop, and your face is hot and sticky against his shirt, he tilts your chin up and kisses your forehead.

“I’m here.” he says. “And i'll still be here in the morning.”

And he is.

He always is.

The days go slower now. Sweeter. You laugh more. You touch him without flinching. He kisses your wrist sometimes, like he’s grateful it still exists. You trace the silver in his beard and he lets you.

It happens on a quiet night.

There’s no lightning. No storm. Just the sound of the cicadas outside and the slow hum of the ceiling fan above the bed. Joel’s lying beside you, shirtless, reading something he keeps forgetting to turn the page on. You’re curled against him, one leg draped over his hip, fingers tracing circles on his chest, where the hair’s gone soft and silver at the edges.

You’re not thinking about your mother.

Not about the bruise that’s finally faded from your cheek.

Not even about how long you’ve waited for someone to hold you like this and mean it.

You’re thinking about him.

You tilt your head. Press your mouth to the side of his throat. He stiffens slightly beneath you, but doesn’t pull away.

“You can touch me now,” you whisper. “I want you to.”

He sets the book down.

“You sure?”

You nod. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Joel turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes search your face— like he’s trying to memorize you.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he says softly. “Don’t wanna make you feel like you owe me this.”

He exhales—slow. Like he’s been holding his breath for days.

Then he leans in and kisses you. Not rushed. Not hungry. Just… full. Full of every long, aching thing he’s never said out loud.

You sigh against his mouth. Climb into his lap. He cradles your hips, hands steady, callused palms sliding up the backs of your thighs beneath his shirt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “So fuckin’ soft, baby.”

His voice makes you shiver. He peels the shirt from your body with careful hands, his eyes never leaving yours. When you’re bare in front of him, you almost flinch—almost cover yourself.

But he stops you.

“Don’t,” he says gently, cupping your jaw. “You don’t have to hide from me. You’re perfect.”

You don’t cry. But your throat tightens.

Joel lays you down slow. Presses kisses to your collarbone, the slope of your stomach, the inside of your wrist. He worships you. Like you’re the first soft thing he’s ever been allowed to keep.

You swallow hard. Your voice trembles. “Touch me, please.”

He groans softly at the sound of your voice—soft and needy—and kisses down your throat, slow and lingering. His stubble scrapes your skin in the best way. His mouth moves lower, teeth grazing your collarbone, lips warm over your sternum.

When his tongue flicks over your nipple, your back arches. He hums against it, suckling slow, his hand massaging the other breast.

“So good,” he murmurs. “Jesus, baby…”

He kisses down your belly next. Pauses to mouth at your hip, teeth scraping lightly. He hooks his hands under your thighs and spreads them—slow, giving you every chance to stop him.

You don’t.

You want this. You want him.

Joel settles between your legs like it’s where he was meant to be.

He pauses. “You okay?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t.

His mouth meets your center like a vow. Warm and wet and patient. He licks you slow, gentle, teasing—like he’s trying to savor every sound, every twitch of your hips. One thick finger slides into you—then another. He curves them up just right, and when your thighs tremble, he praises you for it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let me feel you, baby. So fuckin’ sweet.”

You’re gasping now, nails digging into the sheets, your hips rocking against his mouth.

He hums like he’s devouring you.

Your body tightens. That warmth building, coiling.

Joel keeps his mouth on you the whole time, tongue flicking soft and fast, fingers pressing deep and steady until you break for him. Crying out, breath catching, back arching.

He doesn’t stop. Not until you push gently at his shoulder, thighs twitching with oversensitivity.

When he pulls away, his beard is wet, and his eyes are wild. Soft.

You’re trembling, dazed and glowing, your body still fluttering with the aftershocks. He kisses your collarbone, your throat, your jaw—pressing soft murmurs into your skin.

He crawls back up over you, presses his forehead to yours.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You nod, dazed.

He brushes your hair from your face. Kisses your nose.

You reach for him. Wrap your legs around his waist, fingers tugging at the hem of his boxers.

He catches your wrists gently. Kisses your knuckles.

“I ain’t gonna rush you,” he murmurs. “Not tonight.”

You blink at him. Still breathless. “You’re not gonna—?”

He shakes his head. “I wanted to give you somethin’. Not take.”

“Joel,” you whisper. “Please.”

His eyes find yours, and fuck—he almost folds right there.

“You don’t gotta beg me for anything, darlin’.”

You sit up a little. Cradle his face in your hands.

“I want to beg you,” you say. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you.”

He lets out a low, strangled sound. Like you’ve knocked the air out of his lungs.

“Need you to know,” he says hoarsely, “I ain’t gonna fuck you just to get off. If I do this—it’s me lovin’ you, alright?”

You nod, eyes wide. “That’s all I want.”

You guide his hand to your chest. Your heartbeat pounds under his palm.

“This is yours,” you whisper. “I’m yours.”

That does it.

He groans, low and wrecked, and kisses you hard. No more hesitation, no more restraint. His hands roam your body like he’s trying to memorize it all, his mouth devouring yours with every ounce of the want he’s kept bottled for weeks.

He strips slowly. You help him. Kiss every new patch of skin you uncover—his chest, the thick line of his stomach, the scar near his hipbone.

When he’s bare above you, your breath catches.

He’s beautiful.

Strong, solid, real.

You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around him. He hisses, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “You keep doin’ that and I’m not gonna last long.”

You grin.

He leans over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other gently guiding himself to your entrance.

“You tell me if you need to stop,” he whispers. “At any point, you hear me?”

You nod.

But it’s not enough.

He cups your jaw. Makes you look at him.

“Say it.”

“I’ll tell you,” you whisper. “I promise.”

And then—he pushes in.

It’s slow. Deep. Your body stretches to take him, and Joel swears under his breath as your walls flutter around him.

“Fuck—you feel so good.”

You cling to him, gasping, overwhelmed but full. So full.

He stills once he’s seated all the way inside you. Lets you adjust. His forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard, trying not to come apart too fast.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you gasp. “More than okay. Please move.”

He does.

Slow at first. Just the gentle rock of his hips against yours, his mouth moving along your skin—kissing your throat, your cheek, your shoulder.

“So tight, baby. So fuckin’ good for me.”

You moan. Dig your nails into his back. He rolls his hips deeper, dragging along that perfect spot inside you.

The pace stays slow. Worshipful. He takes his time, like he wants to feel all of you, like he’s terrified of missing something. He keeps one hand cradling your jaw, the other pressed flat against your belly.

“Let me hear you,” he murmurs. “Let me hear what I do to you.”

You do.

You say his name like a prayer. Like it’s the only word you know.

When you come again—hard and sudden—he groans, dropping his head to your shoulder. You pulse around him and he chokes out a curse.

He kisses you then—soft and slow, tongue teasing, lips worshipping yours like you’re a goddamn miracle. When he pulls back, he murmurs:

“I want you to tell me what you want. Every little thing.”

You catch your breath. “I want you.”

His hips pick up the pace again—slow but steady, worshipful. His hands roam over your body, memorizing every curve and dip. His mouth traces kisses down your neck, to your collarbone, whispering praise.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect. So soft for me.”

You cry out softly, nails digging into his back, heart pounding.

“Joel,” you gasp, “Don’t stop.”

He growls low, like you’ve undone something deep inside him.

You tremble with need, words catching in your throat.

“I love you,” you whisper between breaths.

The words hit him like a shot through the heart.

His body freezes inside you. His breath catches. His eyes snap open, wild and raw, searching yours as if to make sure it’s real.

“God,” he chokes out, voice thick.

He buries his face in your neck, hands gripping your hips like you’re all he has left.

“Jesus, baby,” he groans. “I love you too. So goddamn much.”

His hips shudder, moving faster, harder. You gasp as he pulls you closer, skin pressing to skin.

You come for a third time—tight, overwhelming, tearing through you like fire.

Joel follows—his body trembling, voice breaking with a guttural growl as he spills inside you.

He holds you through the waves, breathing ragged against your hair, lips tracing soft, desperate kisses along your shoulder.

When it’s over, you’re both still, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, hearts pounding in the quiet dark.

He murmurs, “You’re mine, sweetheart. Don’t ever forget that.”

And you don’t.

[millermami]

Heatwave — JM

ft: brothers best friend!joel miller x you word count: 4,1k

contains: age gap, MDNI 18+, fluff, p in v, smut w minimal plot, car sex, unsafe sex (wrap it up, you guys) cum play (slight TINY very little)

summary: you’ve had a thing for your big brothers best friend. so when your brother tells you he’s too busy to deal with picking you up from work— you call joel, who is all but too eager to help a girl out.

— loosely very much drew main inspiration from drive by now, now —

note: based off of this ask. also will be updating show me pt 3, & perhaps S&AP. but definitely show me. and also thinking about a mini Halloween/fall themed fics for both joel & Tommy BUT IDK bc i’m working on so many things rn it’s insane, i have nine track mind.

It starts with the heat, the kind that turns the Texas evening into syrup and makes your clothes stick like you’ve stepped into a warm mouth. The diner’s sign hums and flickers behind you; the lot smells like rain and old coffee and the sweet crust of strawberry pie. Your little apron is wrinkled and damp, your tank top glued to your spine, your skirt riding up whenever the wind pushes in from the highway. Your hair’s half-up and the other half frizzed loose, tiny strands pasted to your temples. You thumb your phone and try not to think about how badly you want a shower, a fan, a dark room to fall face-first into.

You call your brother. He answers on the third ring, talking to somebody else over you. “Can’t, kid. I’m busy. Call Joel.”

You stare at your screen like it’s going to blink a different answer. Joel. You could say no. You could walk. It’s only a mile and a half if the storm holds off. You could keep guarding that soft animal in your chest that twitches any time he’s near, keep it asleep and safe. But thunder rolls somewhere beyond the highway and your feet ache and your brother’s best friend has always, always shown up when you needed him.

So you scroll to his name and hit call before you can talk yourself out of it.

He answers like he always does—low, rough, like he’s been busy with his hands. “Yeah?”

“Joel?” Your voice does that small thing you hate.

A beat. Then soft, “Hey, kid. You alright?”

You press the phone to your cheek. The word kid lands the way it always does: like a punch to the damn gut. “I, um… my brother said he couldn’t. Could you give me a ride?”

“You at work?” No hesitation. No sigh. Just the sound of him pulling his keys off a hook, you can hear it, that little clink you’ve heard a hundred times in your kitchen.

You say yes, he’s says give him ten minutes then hang up, heart running laps. You lean against the diner’s brick wall and think, as you’ve thought too many times, that this is ridiculous. You’re twenty-two. You have had crushes and boyfriends and all the small, messy experiments of being an adult. None of them have stuck in your ribs like Joel Miller—thirty-three, forearms like old oak, a mouth that never had to try to be soft and somehow always was. Your brother’s best friend. The orbit of your house for a decade. The man who picked up lumber and carried it like it wasn’t anything, who laughed big and open until your dog jumped at his knee, who always, always saw you. He’s had a thousand exits from your heart and he never takes one.

Headlights sweep the front of the diner, pale against the thickening sky. His truck noses up to the curb, that familiar idle rumble beneath the neon. The passenger door creaks when you open it and climb in. Then there he is, filling the driver’s seat, turning toward you, and the world narrows to the scrape of his stubble, the way his T-shirt hangs from his chest, the long fingers loose against the wheel.

His gaze dips—an instinct, a tiny slide—and snags on the bare shine of your thighs above the hem of your skirt, the damp crescent at your collarbone. A flicker. Then he drags it back up, resets his jaw, and looks at the windshield like it’s holy. “They’re workin’ you too hard,” he says, and his voice is already soft for you.

“It was busy,” you say. Your throat is a little tight. You can’t help looking at his hands. You always look at his hands.

He puts the truck in drive. The radio’s low and scratchy, some old country song, the AC wheezing with all the commitment of an old dog getting off the porch. Out the window, the sky has that green-gray look like it’s thinking about breaking. You fold your hands in your lap and try to sit still. He drums two fingers against the steering wheel, slow, thoughtful.

He shouldn’t look at you again. He always swallows you when he does. He does it anyway. Your skirt is one of those things that can’t decide if it’s pretty or mean. Your hair’s falling out of its clip and it makes you too young for one second and then you blink and he sees the woman again, the one who started showing up and knocking the breath out of him a couple summers ago. The iced-tea summer. The day you came out with a sweating glass and bare legs, the way you laughed when the ice stuck to your lip and he had to look away or lean over and lick it himself. He’d gone home that night and stood under the shower and made himself think about baseball and roofing and his taxes until he could breathe. He’d told himself don’t be a goddamn idiot, that’s your best friend’s kid sister, and then three days later he’d fixed your bike chain while your brother sat inside ignoring you, and you’d thanked him like he’d picked the moon out of the sky for you. He won’t forget that sound if he lives to be a hundred.

“Long shift?” he asks, because if he doesn’t fill the air he’s going to say something he can’t un-say.

“Felt like it.” You smile—shy, glowing—and he could split right there. “Thanks for coming.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says. Quiet. “You call, I come. That’s it.”

You swallow. It’s an old rhythm between you, older than either of you will ever admit. That time your brother forgot to pick you up from the library? Joel, in under ten minutes, white T-shirt and grease on his knuckles. That time your car didn’t start in the grocery lot? Joel, sliding the hood up and leaning his hands on the fender like it was a lover. The small things that looked like nothing, except when you were alone in your room later, looking at the ceiling, and they were everything. How gently he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear when you were twenty-one and drunk at your own birthday and he brought you water; how he took the heavy box from your arms on moving day without asking; how he always made sure you had the last slice of pie.

“You know,” he says, throat rough, “you never gotta wait on your brother. You need anything, you call me. Always.”

“I know,” you say, soft. You’ve been hoarding that sentence for years.

The neighborhood slides by—sagging porches, hydrangeas fat with rain, that one corner house with the cracked plastic flamingos that make you grin every time. He turns onto your street and your stomach drops like you missed a step. Because it’s here, the place where you get out and walk to your door and pretend the air between you isn’t painted with a thing neither of you have been brave enough to name.

He pulls into your driveway. Puts it in park. His hand stays on the gearshift, veins up under his skin like rivers. You stare at his profile. The heat presses in. The first drops stipple the windshield. He breathes in and out and you want to climb inside his chest to hear what it sounds like from the inside.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks on it.

He tips his head just enough. “Yeah?”

You can hear your own heartbeat. Your palms are slick. You tuck your fingers under your thighs like you can hide the shake. “What would it take?”

His brow furrows. He looks right at you for the first time since you got in, eyes the color of a storm ready to go bad. “What would what take?”

You look at his mouth, then at your lap. Your skirt is a little askew. You bite your lip and you know he sees it. “For you to think about me any other way.”

You feel it land between you. Heavy. Real. The words take the shape of your mouth and then they are out in the cab and there’s no pulling them back. For a second, nothing moves. The world holds still. The first slap of rain hits the roof.

Something in him—something has been straining at the leash for years—breaks. Not a crack. A rip. Like a shirt torn straight down the chest.

He exhales like a man coming up from too deep and reaches for you—no hesitation, no cruel slowness—fists the waist of your apron, the soft bit of your skirt, and drags you across the console onto his lap. You gasp, hands flying to his shoulders, your knee bumps the gearshift and you make a little surprised sound that goes straight through him. You’re straddling him, hot and small and shaking, and he palms your thighs like he could hold you there forever.

“You don’t—” His mouth finds your jaw, clumsy and reverent. “I think about you in every way ‘cept the way I’m supposed to.”

“Do you,” you whisper. You can tell he does, with the way he’s breathing. With the way he’s looking at you. You can tell he’s being honest. He’s always honest.

He’s tried to be good for so goddamn long. He’s kept it in a narrow corridor called right and loyal, and you just set a match to the wallpaper. “Been fightin’ this. You hear me?” His voice scrapes the bottom of the well. “Every time you walk in a room, I—” He breaks off, because his mouth finds yours and the rest is lost.

The first kiss tastes like rain and sugar. Your hands, those nice pretty hands he’s watched fold napkins and hold books, slide up his neck. He opens for you like he’s been practicing. You make a sound and he swallows it and then another and he’s gone, he’s at the bottom of it, he’s drowning and choosing not to swim. He kisses you like prayer; he kisses you like apology; he kisses you like a man who knows this will ruin him and does it anyway.

You grind down without meaning to, trying to get closer, and he groans into your mouth, a low bruised sound. You can feel him hard under you, thick along the seam of his jeans, and your hips answer all by themselves, a helpless roll. Your skirt hikes up to your hips. The cab is all humidity, the windows already fogging from your breath.

“Fuck,” he says, stunned, and puts his forehead to yours like he needs the anchor. “Sweetheart. Look at me. We’re doin’ this?”

“Yes.” It’s ugly how fast you say it. You nod; your hands bite into his shoulders. “Please.”

He swears again, a whispered Goddamn, and his palms slide up, thumbs skating the damp heat where your thighs meet. He finds the edge of your panties and pushes them aside with his knuckles, the rough brush making you jolt. He looks down between you, just for a second, and the sight knocks something loose in him—your pretty little skirt bunched up, your panties crooked, the slick glint of you catching the cab’s dim light. His next breath seesaws out.

“She’s so pretty,” he mutters. “Been thinking about you for years, you even know that?” He flicks his gaze up. You’re wide-eyed and wrecked and so, so brave.

You tug at his belt with shaking hands. He helps because if he doesn’t you’ll watch him fumble and he’s desperate enough without that. He frees himself, hot and heavy and blunt, and for one mad second he just holds the base and shudders, like he has to convince himself it’s real.

“You ready,,” he asks you, voice gone tender and bossy at once. “Slow. Want you to go slow.”

You nod, already panting. He runs the head through your slick and you shiver, your hands tighten against his shoulders, nails pricklying skin. He feels you open under his thumb, the little give that makes him bite his own lip. He positions himself; you let your hips sink. The first push is bright and hot and too much, your mouth falling open in a sound that makes his eyes slam shut.

“That’s it,” he grits, jaw locking, fighting not to buck up. “That’s it, darlin’. Take me.”

You shake. He covers your spine with a steady hand, cups the back of your neck with the other, and breathes against your mouth, his words a rope you can hold. “I got you. That’s it. God, you feel—” He breaks and his eyes do that wild thing like he wants to apologize for wanting.

You sink. Stretch. The discomfort turns into a draggy, gorgeous ache and then into heat and then into a slick, electrified fullness that makes you moan into his mouth like a secret you can’t keep. When you bottom out, you go still, both of you shaking. The rain chooses that moment to come down hard—hammering, drumming—drowning the world.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheekbone, your ear. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Oh God, Joel.” You wiggle, just a little, and his head tips back helplessly.

“Don’t do that unless you wanna watch me embarrass myself.”

You do it again. He laughs, broken, and then his hands tighten and his hips lift, slow, careful, pulling you over him and easing you down, little bites of motion that stoke the heat higher. The truck rocks, the seat squeaks, the windows blur slick on the inside. You find a rhythm above him, fingers in his hair, and he meets you, deeper, again, and again, and soon it’s nothing like careful, it’s a steady, hungry pulse that steals your breath and then gives it back sweeter.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you,” he confesses again, mouth against your throat, the words dragged out like they cost something. “All the time. Tryin’ not to. Every time I told myself no, you’d look at me with those big eyes and it was like—” He groans when you clench around him, his sentence gone. “Like this. This is what it was like. Couldn’t sleep thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

You press your forehead to his. “I thought I was crazy.”

He huffs a laugh that isn’t a laugh at all. “You ain’t. Or we both are.”

You ride him harder. His hand moves from your neck to your jaw and tilts your head until your eyes have nowhere to go but his. His pupils are blacked out, his mouth is wet, his throat working. “Watch me,” he says, deep, rough. “Look at me while you use me. That’s it. That’s my girl.”

You make a noise that would embarrass you if you weren’t already beyond the map. “You’re so—big,” you stammer, because your brain is static and your body is all electricity.

“Yeah?” He thrusts up and you keen. His thumb finds your clit and circles, slow, mean, perfect. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Full,” you whimper. “Stretching me—Joel—”

“Good girl.” His voice softens into something that makes your eyes sting. “You’re doin’ so good. Been dreamin’ how you’d feel and it’s—” He groans, raw and reverent. “Hell, it’s better.”

The need hooks behind your navel and drags. He feels it in the way your hips stutter, the way your mouth keeps looking for his. He kisses you through it, deeper than before, like he can pour steadiness into you. “Let go for me,” he murmurs. “C’mon. I want it. Been hungry for it since—Jesus—since forever.”

It doesn’t take long after that. Your toes curl against the floorboard and you fall, the world fragmenting, your cry smothered against his mouth. He holds you tight and lets you shake, his own sounds breaking in your ear, one hand locked under your thigh to keep you flush, the other cupping your head like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever put his hands on.

“Look at you,” he whispers, half-awed, half-ruined. “That’s it, baby. Give it to me.”

You come down in spirals, heartbeat in your throat, his thumb still petting you through the aftershocks until it’s too much and you flinch. He lets up, kisses the salt at your jaw, breathes you in like he’s been deprived of air. He’s close—he’s been teetering on a cliff since you said his name in the driveway—but he holds still while you float, his chest heaving, the tendons standing out in his neck.

Then you rock on him again, tender and greedy. “Joel,” you say, and your voice is the thing that knocks him over.

“Baby, I’m—” He swears, deep and low. “I’m there.”

You clutch his shoulders. He pulls out at the last second with a wounded sound, spills hot across your thighs, thick and shocking in the cool of the AC, his hand around himself, the other splayed on your hip like he could still feel you from the inside. He paints your skin in hard pulses, more and more, his head tipped back, throat working, the sound he makes so helpless it goes straight through you.

You watch, mouth parted, stunned. It’s messy and obscene and it’s everywhere, pearly streaks slipping towards the curve of your knee. “Joel,” you whisper, half a laugh, half a prayer, dizzy with the sight of it. “It’s so much.”

He stares down at you like he’s been shot. Something like possession and apology and desire all piled in his face. He drags his thumb through a streak at the top of your thigh and your skin jumps. “Messy little thing.”

You catch his wrist before he can wipe it away. His eyes flick to yours—question and hunger and don’t, don’t, please—and you bring his hand up, open your mouth, and lick his thumb clean. Your tongue curls, slow, a little show-off, and his whole body goes tight as wire. The back of his head hits the seat with a soft thud.

“Goddamn,” he says, wrecked, hoarse, like he can’t pick a tone and lands on all of them. His palm finds your hip and squeezes. “Goddamn, kid. I’m in so much trouble.”

Kid… you know now that he never meant it in any way except endearment. You hum around his thumb and then let it slip free with a soft pop. “Guess you are,” you say, and your grin is small and private and so in love with him it’s going to explode him from the inside.

He breathes for a while. The storm plays steady above you. He tucks his softening cock away with one hand, the motion almost shy after the shamelessness of a second ago, and reaches into the glove box with the other for a packet of napkins he’s had in there since before the last oil change. He wipes you with a careful tenderness—dabs and swipes and murmured apologies when you flinch from oversensitive skin. You watch the tendon move in his throat and want to put your mouth there, right where it jumps, and feel his pulse against your tongue.

“You okay?” he asks, for the third time in as many minutes, like the answer might change if he keeps asking and he won’t forgive himself if it does.

You nod, uselessly fond. “Way, way, way more than okay.”

He tips your chin up with two fingers and looks at you like you’re the first good thing that’s happened to him in months. “Tell me,” he says, raw. “I… I need to hear it.”

You know what he’s asking. You could mishear him on purpose. You don’t. “I wanted this,” you say. “I’ve wanted this. You.”

He closes his eyes for a second, aches through something you can’t see, then opens them and it’s all in there—years of it, small and secret and careful, finally allowed to look you in the face. He brings your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. It’s old-fashioned and ruinous. “Me too,” he says, quiet like a vow. “More than’s good for me.”

You settle against him. The seat creaks. He strokes a damp curl back from your temple. You take inventory: the ache between your legs, the warmth of him under you, the storm a cocoon that makes the truck feel like a fort you built with a blanket when you were a kid.

He doesn’t let you climb off when you first try. He makes a soft sound and pulls you back down with hands that don’t know how to be anything but honest. “Just—hold on,” he mutters. “Just a minute.”

“Joel,” you say, laughing a little, breathless still. “I need to go in. Before the rain picks up again.”

“In a minute,” he repeats. He thumbs your cheekbone. That used-to-be-friend, used-to-be-untouchable sweetness returns to his mouth, but it’s not the same now. It hurts more, in that good way. “You—” He clears his throat. “You know this means a lot to me, you mean a lot to me.”

“I know.” You glide your fingers into his hair (finally) and feel the small shiver that moves through him. “You mean a lot to me too.”

“And don’t forget to call me. For whatever. Especially to pick you up.” His smile is a crooked thing. He tugs you closer like he could tuck you under his ribs. “I’m always comin’ for you.”

You blush. He hears himself and huffs a laugh that’s almost boyish. “Not like that. Well—hell.” He shakes his head, and you kiss the corner of his mouth to save him from himself.

He sobers. “We’ll… we’ll be careful,” he says, voice lowering into that register that makes your stomach flip. “Ain’t sayin’ I got the words for all of it right now. But I know this: I can’t go back to nothin’ after… after this. I won’t.”

“You won’t have to,” you say simply. It feels like the clearest sentence of your life.

You sit together while the rain shifts from hard to soft, from drum to whisper. He asks if you’re sore and you tell him it’s a good sore and he kisses your knee because it’s the closest skin and because he can. He tries to let you go and fails twice. He finally sighs and helps you slide back into the passenger seat, hands gentle on your hips like you’re a thing he’s returning to the shelf but only because he’ll take it down again in five minutes.

You smooth your skirt. Your panties are fighting placement and you tug them, heat crawling up your neck. He looks away to be decent and fails at that too, eyes coming back like a magnet. He clears his throat and reaches over to fix the clip in your hair that’s lost a war it was always going to lose, his fingers precise and careful and proprietary in a way that makes your belly light.

“Pretty,” he says, mostly to himself.

The rain softens further, a shy shush. The world feels new and washed and a little dangerous.

Your hand finds the handle. You hesitate. “Joel?” It’s different now, the word. He looks up fast like he’s always going to be ready for it.

He doesn’t say anything. He knows what you mean. You lean in and kiss him, quick and hot, and then you get out into the damp night before neither of you can stand it and you climb back in his lap again. You jog to the porch. He waits with his elbow hung over the wheel, watching you like always except you know what it means now. You fumble your keys and he chuckles and you flip him a look over your shoulder that says shut up and he lifts a palm in surrender.

At your door, you turn and meet his eyes through the rain and the dim. He lifts two fingers from the wheel like a promise. You mouth call me and he nods once like he’s signing something legal. And your damn brother still hasn’t texted to make sure you got home.

[vel-vet61]

the sweetest tip explicit 18+, blue collar worker joel, bareback, blowjob, dirty talk, worker/customer bang, masturbation, smoking, joel briefly pisses but it’s not even that type of freaky kink fic I promise, save that for another day

joel’s been working on the roof of your house, power cleaning with a few of his coworkers all day. you hardly had to interact with any of them, but judging off of what you saw, joel was the boss. he manned the ship. made sure to let the other boys know when their breaks were, safety protocols, keeping you posted on their schedule as the day goes by. and you can’t help but blush when joel softly knocks, calls you ma’am, adjusts the waistband of his used up work pants, sliding his muddy palms down his thighs to wipe whatever dirt lingered.

he was polite, informative, kind, sure of himself, of his crew.

you bring them waters and tell them to let you know if they need help with anything, and that you’ll just be reading in your bedroom, minding your business. joel holds your eyes with his gaze a beat longer than necessary before clearing his throat, thanking you kindly for the water and ripping the cap off, downing it all in just a couple gulps.

as if watching him bend his head back to chug and swallow was enough, he takes the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe some sweat shining on his forehead, flashing his belly, feasting your eyes on the peak of a happy trail. surely the start of a nice bush.

you hand him another water and a snack, watching him guzzle more water down.

“real hot out. all this work, you must be so thirsty,” you chime, smiling right at joel.

“sweet of you to bring us the water, hunny. should uh, should be wrappin’ this job up real soon. before sundown at least.”

he quenches his thirst some more, not caring that streams drip down his chin. you can’t help it, the staring. you excuse yourself back inside before making a fool of yourself, hitting on the older man you’ve hired for a job.

joel masks whatever feelings of disappointment that try bubbling to the surface, going back to focus on what he’s being paid for.

half an hour later, with the harsh sounds of hoses spraying off your roof, you peak through the closed window of your bedroom to watch joel climbing down from one of their ladders down to your backyard, fishing a pack of cigarettes from his truck. he pulls one out, holds it between his lips with that second water bottle you’d given him. you try to keep your head down, remaining inconspicuous while peeping on him in his downtime, clearly just taking a minute for a breather and have a smoke.

even from far away it’s fucking hot, watching him use his shirt again to wipe his face, then lighting the cigarette, breathing out a cloud with his head slightly tilted back. you consider going back out to get him another snack, maybe some paper towel, welcome him to using your restroom, before you tune in just in time to fucking see it.

with that lit cigarette still dangling from his lips, you can’t believe what your eyes were graced to see when he pulls on his belt, unbuckling it with both hands and unbuttoning his pants. your panties could’ve dropped to the floor already, seeing his mouth occupied with his smoke when he takes his dick out, girthy and bushy and long as fuck to take a generous piss right in one of the bushes, aiming to the side so you still get a good view of what he’s been packing.

your breath gets caught in your throat while you’re too mesmerized by his cock to do anything but stare, barely taking your eyes off his length, the thick stream he was letting out, then back to his face, sighing in what looked like pure relief. you’d didn’t care that you seemed to forget to let him know to ask to come in, didn’t care how good he seemed to be watering the plants out there — you were stuck in a daze. licking your lips, feeling it in your pussy how she was already throbbing seeing how big he looked, and now knowing how hot he looked taking a piss, imagining what he’d look like withering and spurting cum.

your fingers can’t stop themselves, you’re already palming your pussy. relieving the flush of your clit, swirling your fingertip around right on the bud, still trying to stay low and get your eyeful. hell, even the size of his fucking stream was turning you on.

you only get another ten seconds of eye candy before the time was up, his semi public little piss break was over. he shakes his dick three times, wagging the fat head so any leftover droplets come off before tucking that fat thing right back in, hips moving around a bit while he maneuvers his zip back up and belt back on. the hand that had just been on the base of his thick dick was back on the butt of his cigarette, taking another hit before blowing it out, fishing for the water bottle you gave him and ripping the cap off to douse himself, his hair and his fucking face in it, cooling himself off.

“oh fuck. you cannot be serious.”

you heave all to yourself, almost mad at how picture perfect he’d looked in your backyard, the gorgeous, blue collar man with salt and pepper hair and a mustache you wanted to sit on and ride. one of your fingers dive right into your slit, slippery and ready enough by the sheer filth of the view you’d been blessed with. still swirling your clit around, your finger finds a quick rhythm to pump what you needed inside, picturing his worker’s hands on you instead. his thick digits finger fucking you from behind. how they could have a gentle side to them that he doesn’t get to show off at work.

and that dick. you close your eyes, mouth now wide open, imprinting the image onto your brain of his cock sticking out of his pants, still mouthwatering in length and girth and he wasn’t even hard.

you wonder if he was a grower or a show-er, other hand going up to pinch at your nipple, tease yourself some more while picturing that big fucking dick, pounding into you balls deep, balls that you didn’t quite get to see but you knew had to have sagged good. big enough to slap and bounce on you with every thrust of that fuck, and shit, you’re already close to cumming.

it came into question if you should just snatch one of your dildos from under your bed and ride it until your pussy had her fill, or hump your vibrator on every single setting that it had, and maybe let out a noise or two, hoping joel might possibly hear, and you’d be able to feed his imagination with as much filth as he did yours. fuck.

you were too lost in your own world, in your own pussy, that the noise on your roof had calmed down, eventually all the boys climbing down one by one down their ladder, grouping up all together to have a smoke break slash water break. you were still riding on your fingers, rubbing your clit furiously, face contorted in what could’ve looked to be pain if they couldn’t see what you were doing to yourself. and right before you could edge yourself closer to the grand finale, the final push to rub on your g-spot and cum all your pent up frustrations out, that’s when you heard your doorbell go off, followed by a series of gentle knocks at your door.

your red cheeks, flustered demeanor might’ve given it away. your spying, playing with your pussy at the first sight of a cock outside your bedroom window. you make some half assed attempt to right yourself, your hair, and rinse your wet fingers after painfully pulling them out of yourself to your dismay. sighing, with your soaked underwear still clinging to your mound, you clear your throat and try to put on a I wasn’t just trying to get myself off just now face, turning the knob to your door open. revealing joel, who’s a little sweatier than you’d became, a few grimy spots of dirt littering his pants here and there. he reeked of that goddamn cigarette and a hard day’s labor, smiling at you in greeting.

“so me and my boy’s all just finished up. roof looks great, shouldn’t have any problems. but you can take a look at it, let us know if you need anything else touched up,” joel offers. leaning one out stretched arm to the side, exposing some dark under arm hair poking through that t-shirt, almost showing off like he knows what he’s doing.

“great. great. thank—um, thank you guys so much. I know you guys were working really hard, you did an amazing job,” you nod, biting the crux of your lip and folding your arms together. even looking at him up this close felt too much to bare. you decided it, it was set in stone — soon as they were gone you were gonna ride your dildo until your sheets were soiled and you were screaming. hoping to see something in him twitch, you point one finger back behind you, reminding him, “if you guys need to use the restroom, I can show you where it is. I’m sorry if I didn’t say that earlier, especially after all that water.”

joel’s eyes widen a bit at that, darting back and forth between where you’re pointing and your neck, down to the floor.

“thank you darlin, we really appreciate it. don’t wanna intrude on ya in your space, but I think my boys are all good to go.”

“you sure? I really don’t mind. after being out there, out in the sun—“

“you’re too sweet. I think I’ll uh, maybe I’ll take a leak just before headin’ out if you don’t mind.”

your grin was soft but still devious, happy to step aside and let him in. joel yells out to his crew about your bathroom being available but they brush him off, loading up the company truck. he gestures something else to them that you couldn’t properly guess, but seeing a couple of them smirking and whistling definitely still fueled the excitement within you before he tells them to fuck off.

turning back around, he looks down at you with flustered, pinker cheeks. you gnaw on the tip of your pointer finger, guiding him to the direction of your restroom. he thanks you kindly again, a deliberate grip squeezing on your shoulder, making you wanna both bend over and get on your knees. but instead you just thank him back for all the hard work him and his crew had done, assuring him again he was going in the right direction before exhaling a long breath once he’s out of view.

your pussy’s still throbbing, still annoyingly wet. you hear familiar clank of his belt coming undone muffled through the walls, and that same light splash of his relieving himself that you’d seen earlier on his break before he washes his hands and comes back out, refreshed.

the tension felt thicker now as he emerged, staring you down with determination, eager eyes glossing all across your body. you’re no better. feeling yourself get lost on the new, unforgiving bulge of his dick forming a good sized lump in the crotch of his work pants. it takes your breath away to think of making a move, getting to see his cock again, this time hard, this time all up close.

you play with a strand of your hair, voice turning a little raspy with how full of raw utter need that you wanted his specific help filling.

“I can’t thank you enough, joel. really. I looked outside and—“ no, you didn’t— “saw the new roof and—“ that’s a lie—“she is so damn clean. you guys did such an amazing job.”

and they did, they worked really fucking hard for you. but right now that isn’t what you cared about seeing. you step closer in his personal bubble, finding him reciprocating your anxious, pent up energy with a long breath huffing out of his lips. “was our pleasure, y’know. hope you don’t mind the smell of smoke, kinda haven’t kicked the habit yet. we didn’t leave ‘em out there in your backyard neither, I always ash ‘em in bottles.”

“I don’t mind. still feel like I owe you… maybe more than just a tip,” you whisper. eyes looking him up and down, giving him a full idea of the picture you were painting. “all that hard work, must give you at least some stress. who cares what you do to alleviate that, right? a smoke, or maybe something else. just to get rid of all that pressure you’re under.”

your hand softly trails down, slow enough so he can give you the red light to stop if he wanted. you wait for it but he never does, his eyes dancing between your eyes and your lips while your hand trails all the way down, cupping that delicious bulge that looked painful to be neglected all zipped up in his pants.

“I owe you,” you remind him again, pushing him back until he’s seated down on your living room couch. ducking your head until you’re on your knees on the floor, face to face with his clothed cock that you can’t stop palming, stroking, teasing.

“fuck, fuck baby you ain’t owe me nothin. just doin what I have to, oh god—“

“can I take him out and thank him, too?”

your doe eyes peer up, fingers out stretching to ghost over the bricked up length.

joel nods hurriedly, spreading his legs and flexing his thighs out some more for you, cursing more under his breath just seeing your face nudged up against his manhood. taking him out with a long, teasing gesture of dragging his zipper down, licking your evil lips like his cock is your prey.

once he’s fully unsheathed, length bobbing out and sticking flush against his lower stomach, joel moans when you go in and tongue around the rim of his bulging tip.

“so big and hard all for me. don’t know if I can fit him in all the way,” you giggle, jacking him with a firm fist before dipping your tongue back in to lather the thick meat of him with your spit.

“oooohhh hunny, hunny don’t worry about that. he don’t gotta hurt that pretty throat, just, mmm—just give him some kisses is all.”

joel’s breathing heavy. one hand white knuckling the arm of your couch, the other tucking your hair behind your ears so you have better room to lick and play.

taking his tip in the whole of your mouth, you suction him in with a loud pop before pulling off, keeping him occupied and stimulated with your little hand, barely fitting around all the girth you’re jacking. “you like these kisses? they helping you feel good? you were at it so hard, all day, joel. s’only right that you blow off some steam…”

joel gasps and tosses his head back when you end your sentence with a lewd glob of spit, dangling off your lips in strings to lube him up all the way down to his balls.

“thank you, thank you baby—treatin’ me so good, always grateful I get to make the customer—mmmmmfuckfuck— customer happy. you like this dick, babygirl? you like how he tastes?”

you nod your head, slurping up a mouthful only to dive down further to suck a ball into your mouth. a sight joel is almost too worked up to even see, eyebrows pinching in and hips trying their best to stay grounded.

“he tastes so good, wish I could fit him all in.”

“mmmhm. he’s a little bigger than normal, s’cause you’re lookin’ too fuckin’ cute between these legs. damn.”

you slip your tongue in the hole of his tip, wiggling it around like a sloppy tease. cupping his balls and squishing them together, marveling in how they squeeze and move in pleasure.

“touched myself while I was staring at this dick through my window, couldn’t help myself… wanted my mouth on it, wanted to fuck my pussy on it. soon as I watched you piss out there.”

“mmmm, you’re dirty baby. dirty girl peakin’ at my cock. hoped you were watchin’ though,” joel smirked, fingers scratching your scalp lovingly while you go to town on his dick, gulping him right up. he takes another minute, lavishing in the upmost attention before gently pulling your addicting mouth off. wiped the spit that lingers on your chin, despite your pouting.

“whatcha waitin’ for? you wanna keep fillin’ that mouth, or do I gotta take them drawls off and fuck you my damn self?”

“mm, just another, just one more taste.”

you take full advantage, flattening your tongue out to give him the best of the best. soaking him in more of your drool and licking him up and down like a dirty fucking dog, making him gasp and mewl.

“alright, greedy girl, get in my fuckin’ lap. wanna get my tip.”

joel pulls on the waist of your sweatpants, impatience boiling within him. luckily he barely has to blink before you’ve stripped yourself down, planted in his lap and rutting yourself silly along the girth of his cock. he marvels at the mound of your pussy, seeing your cute lips gushing along his length with the glorious friction.

“oh baby, yeah, get your fill. get your fill. poor baby, so whiny for some dick. don’t worry. slip it in whenever you need. that’s it. you’re beautiful.”

since you’d ripped off your bottoms you’ve been lost in your own world, satisfying your dire, primal needs, grinding his spit-slick meat all over your clit, gliding the skin along your pussy lips. gracing him in your own wetness, hearing noisy squelches already beginning to form while joel grabs you by the hips and praises you.

“yeah, you gonna cum like that? that little pussy too excited?”

“n-no,” you breathe, balancing with the help of his strength while you slide yourself up back to the very top, mounting his tip, engulfing him with your warm entrance. “m’gonna cum like this.”

that’s all the warning that he could get before you dart those dangerous hips up and down, taking all of it in from his base to his balls, fluids gushing together every bump along the ride. you squeal and grab ahold of his shoulders, swirling your hips in ovals while joel’s been rendered almost speechless. hypnotized. eyes completely glazed over, throbbing inside you and cheering you on with moans while he watches himself repeatedly enter and exit your body. you drip all the way down to his balls, happily bouncing away with girly moans just adding gasoline to his fire.

when joel can finally find it in him to verbally egg you on some more, he dips his middle finger down to soothe over your drenched clit, feeling how it makes you tighten up and gush on him even more.

“mmm you likin’ that dick? babygirl needed some good dick, yeah yeah I can tell, you been waitin’ for a fuck like this. bouncin’ up and down so damn good.”

“yes, yes, I needed it, fucking fingered this pussy just imagining this—ohhhh, the real thing is so good.”

“I’ll finger your pretty pussy for ya next time, don’t have to do it all by yourself. ever again, sweetheart. these fingers, this dick, all yours.”

joel keeps rubbing your sweet spots, both inside and outside. keeping your clit attended to, keeping your pussy so hot and filled. he groans like an animal while you tighten on him in beats, pussy doing a number on him while he buries his face in your collarbone.

“mmm, you cummin’ soon? tell me what i gotta do to make that pussy cum, girl.”

you can hardly answer him in the heat of your bouncing, thrilled to feel the both of you venturing so close towards the edge. squeezing all around him again, leaving a pornographic rim of cream to stain and stick on his dick before scattering kisses on his ear, his cheek, his forehead. hardly catching your breath to keep up your stamina before whimpering, “just keep fucking me, fuck me deep, rub my clit like that—already getting so close, joel, I’m gonna cream all over this cock.”

joel takes the hand that gripped your hip off to hold your jaw, keeping your face bunched up against him before he nods, murmurs I know baby, I know it feels good. we’re gonna cum at the same time, hunny, s’gonna be amazing.

he takes over the power and momentum, besides your little thrusts down. his lips touch yours, sharing each other’s scorching hot breath before officially going in to slip his tongue inside, tangling it with yours, sharing slobber.

you let out more sounds that could be considered inhumane at this point by the time you’re feeling that distinguishing twitch of his fat dick while he’s throbbing inside, hot and fast as he’s slipping it in and out while you tighten more on him possessively, feeling like you’re getting milked to the gods while his finger on your clit never stops. the two of you feel it, feel at the same time — joel pulls the trigger first, whimpering like it hurt before nesting all the way in, all the way inside and busting a warm, long load as his tip is still lodged inside. you’re not even far behind, cumming on him while his load slows down a few strokes, screaming into his face and clutching for life onto both of his broad shoulders.

joel’s head falls forward. relishing in the wet, milky mess of your laps while you squeal and clench your toes like a pretty girl finally getting her filling.

“aww, oh that’s it, that’s it pretty girl. beautiful. you came so good, came all over us, yeah, good girl.”

he peckers kisses around your jaw, whispering into your ear while all your dead weight drops onto him, exhausted from the burning in your thighs.

after the buzz from the high slowly tapers down, letting you finally remember where you were, you nuzzle your face in his chest, hearing his deep chuckle come before petting your hair softly a little more.

“you did so good. wore me out, baby.”

“that makes two of us,” you smile. giving into his sweet, brown puppy eyes that clearly beg you for another kiss.

“do I taste like smoke? m’sorry if I do,” joel says, somehow acting shy while he’s still inside you. and you’re leaking out his cum. you roll your eyes at him, proving his self consciousness wrong by going back into kiss him longer, harder. your lips smacking together easily lasts another minute, only catching a break when joel’s laugh breaks it up. he smiles, giddy while smoothing more lips over your soft skin, down your neck and all around your face. skin he still didn’t feel worthy to touch, to feel or taste. he still couldn’t believe it.

“so I know you got my work’s number, but here,” he pulls back, fishing his phone out from his discarded pants pocket. laughing when he has to go between your legs to fetch it, and giving your ass a little smack.

he texts your phone number from his, your phone buzzing on the table from his notification like it was proof. no fake numbers. no bullshit.

“wanna see you again. give you more a what I got next time, when I’m all showered up. less tired from work…”

“I wanted to ride you, and you smell good like this. even after being up on my roof for eight hours,” you assure him. nuzzling in the musk of his neck, kissing and biting the sweat off of him.

your ass gets cupped by both his giant palms, gently easing his chubby, spent length out of you, making a mess when you two disconnect, both tiredly wincing at the empty, cool air. he soothes you with more rubs, up and down your back, massaging with little squeezes while you steadily pass out still wrapped up in his trusted arms. bare naked in his lap. joel finds himself drifting off too, still keeping his hands moving on you in comfort, moving all your hair to the side and nosing your neck.

“couldn’t’ve asked for a sweeter tip, baby. let’s get some sleep.”

—

let’s pretend it isn’t weird and in real life gross if someone working on your house is shy to ask for the restroom and just resorts to pissing in the backyard lmfao this is fantasy ok

[maiamore]

beach sex with the newlyweds <3

tags: smut, pwp, husband!clark, pussy rubbing, p-in-v, public indecency (700+ wc)

—

clark's a big guy.

two hundred and fifty pounds, six 'ish' as he would humbly insist. him being hung, a no-brainer. but your favourite thing wasn't the length, but the heft of it.

you loved feeling him, the raw contact of his skin on yours. the weight of his stiff, hot cock resting on your cunt. it's dizzying, and it made you say things you never thought you'd say.

praises sung when he'd barely done anything. his eyes would screw shut so tight, zeroing in on those gratuitous adjectives of his manhood — "don't move don't move, f-fuck, clark. so…s'heavy." his thighs tremble with effort from not shoving himself deep in you, but your saccharine pleas to feel him forced him otherwise.

slowly, he'd press harder against you. the thick of him slides up your pillowy pussy. every shift has you feeling the friction, the same friction that has his jaw tense with effort. veiny and throbbing as you coat him with your slick.

your legs part wider in a pathetic attempt to grind into him. but it's pointless, he has you stretched to your limit, just by having to part them for the width of his body.

clark's addicted to overpowering you like this, spilling your honest desires to him.

desires that he caters to without argument. he adjusts the blunt, thick head of his cock against your sensitive bud, rubbing over it purposely to watch your hips jump. then, he rubs, hips moving in a lazy grind that puts his weight into every slide of his length between your puffy folds. each thrust designed to kiss your clit.

his muscles are tightly corded where you claw at it through broken whimpers. whining for him to rub your clit harder and faster.

it's a request that breaks him. with his two calloused palms coming to lift your hips. he tilts your pelvis high enough, hips snapping in short, angled thrusts to satiate your greediness.

"gosh baby…she's noisy today. mm?"

your response comes in a petty squeeze to his biceps, all nails. it was a mean and unfair comment. especially when you'd been trying to keep your voice down.

but that wasn't what clark was referring to, you quickly realise. the wet sounds were coming from where you're currently connected. squelching, wet slaps of him snapping into your cunt. when his cock slips lower, it's met with resistance, his weeping tip notched right into your entrance.

"baby…c'mon…" he'd whisper, begging for your pussy to open up for him.

you weakly shake your head, pleading for him to take what he wanted. the spasms were no longer in your control. so clark does just that, pulling back enough to align himself just right. what you needed wasn't for him to stretch you out any more than he had with his fingers earlier.

in one, heavy thrust, he buries himself to the hilt in you. filling your belly with him. the motion knocks the breath out of both of you. his forehead pressed against yours as he takes it in, each ragged breath tearing at his throat.

each thrust, heavy and unrestrained, had you squeaking at every snap of his hips. clark's weight was overstimulating in every way possible. even better now with the soft cushion of the sand beneath you.

clark can only let out a choked noise when your walls flutter around him without warning. the potent wave of your orgasm pulsing, squeezing his cock in a rhythmic wash. he doesn't stop, pushing through and thrusting even more desperately. you're whining, incoherently, completely fucked out of your mind.

but clark's too damn close to stop for you to catch your breath, too fucking close to let his sweet baby's whimpers stop him from chasing the intoxicating pulse of your cunt as you cum for him.

he'd fist over the gingham beach towel laid beneath your hair, gripping right into the sand as he finally spills inside your spent pussy, before slumping with his dead weight onto your sweaty body.

but he supposed he hadn't accounted for his wife's libido on their honeymoon. because when you push at his already limp body, perching yourself on top of him and coating his abdomen with your slick. he's left blinking at you, all dazed.

the backdrop of the endless, sparkling sea behind you is scenic. gentle rocks of coconut trees shadowing the cozy, private corner chosen for impulsive intimacy. but you — you're the centre of it all. skin, hot to touch, that had nothing to do with the sun. you press your palms to his chest, curling and stretching above his body with a mischievous little grin.

"don't tell me you're done?"

[54nboo]

"table for two." bucky barnes.

summary: with a schedule as busy as yours and a boss as grueling as sam wilson, dating becomes an afterthought; so when the day comes where you actually manage to score a date, you let yourself hope— only for it all to fall apart. the last thing you expect is for your boss’ friend to slip into the seat in front of you and order a whiskey, but it’s certainly not the worst thing to happen to you that night.

pairing: tfatws!bucky x fem!military!reader

word count: 4.4k

content contains: fluff and angst!!! probably a little more angst than was needed, saved from a no-show date, coworkers(?) to lovers, tfatws era, reader is a little self conscious and critical of herself, bucky cares for reader probably a little too much, reader is a little tipsy,

dt: for @indigo-jungle! jungle i hope you enjoy this and that my endless nagging actually created something you might enjoy :D i enjoyed writing this and i really hope you enjoy taking bucky home with you. happy reading and happy (late) valentines!!!!

authors note: this is for @salty-tang’s valentine’s day swap collab!! i just wanted to say thank you salty for organising this collab :P it was so well done and everything was so creative and organised and i’m sorry for being late. also went on my first ever date the other day and it was horrible. the concept of writing a failed date after having the worst date of my life. NEVER AGAIN

your disappearance hadnt gone unnoticed in the compound.

you were never one to just vanish without a word. you always told sam or joaquin what you were doing and when you'd be back, even if it was a quick trip to the store or a late night walk when you couldn't sleep. it was habit, an unspoken rule the three of you had agreed on when you'd first decided to work together.

if anything, you never really went anywhere. you usually didn't have much of a reason to leave the base unless it was for a mission, mandatory training, or when sam had pulled you out for 'fresh air and human interaction'.

but the one time it had happened, it had sent your team into a frenzy.

joaquin is the first one to notice anything is off, though it doesn't cause immediate panic. he'd checked your room found and that it was empty, not in a concerning way— just quiet. your bed is made and your boots sits neatly by your desk like you hadn't been in there all day. he checks the gym second, figuring you might've wanted to squeeze in an extra workout before you headed to dinner, but you're not there either.

he checks the hangar, he checks the training deck, and he even calls out your name right outside of the women's bathroom. he calls several times, and it always ends up going to voicemail. when you're not in any of those places and you don't answer, he assumes you're with sam.

joaquin walks down the hall and enters the bases common area. he finds sam standing in the kitchen while something spins in the microwave, the low hum filling the room. across the room, bucky sits on the sofa, staring blankly at the news on the television. it's on, but it's obvious he's not completely focused on it.

joaquin's footsteps against the wood floor catches sam's attention. he turns around just as the microwave beeps, glancing towards joaquin before he turns back and pulls his meal from the machine.

"have you guys seen her?" joaquin crosses his arms against his chest, brows furrowing the slightest bit.

sam glances over his shoulder, "who's her?'

joaquin gives sam a look. "there's only one her that would make me walk all the way down here."

from the sofa, bucky shifts, his head turning slightly towards the conversation at the mention of you. he doesnt say anything, but the faint tightening in his eyes shows he's paying attention.

"her rooms empty, and she's not in the gym. i don't know where else she would be." joaquin continues. "has she messaged you or told you she was leaving the base?"

sam raises a brow, his fork pausing in the midst of his stirring. "she hasn't. you sure you checked everywhere?"

"yeah, and i called." joaquin sighs, "i'm just worried because she's been a little restless lately. thought it was just because of the new york mission, but you know her— she never stresses about missions."

and although this would be a minor inconvenience for most people, the flicker of concern that flares in sam and joaquin is hard to ignore. you, of all people, vanishing without a trace? it's more than a cause for concern.

sam leaves the kitchen and walks over to the sofa where bucky is sitting. joaquin follows behind him as sam pulls his laptop out and opens it, fingers flying across the keyboard as he logs in and types something that bucky doesn't quite understand when he peers over and steals a glance.

"what are you doing?" joaquin asks.

"going through her phone." sam replies.

and for the first time in the conversation, bucky speaks up, his lip curled and his voice flat. "don't you think hacking her phone is an invasion of privacy?"

sam barely gives bucky a glance, eyes focused on pinpointing your exact location. "it's not hacking. i'm just trying to find a location. you sign consent waivers for this kind of stuff when you join."

"security measures." joaquin adds with a small shrug as if it'll help bucky understand and it'll snooze his unease.

there's a small moment of silence as joaquin and bucky watch sam type away at his laptop, the soft clacking of his fingers on the keys mingling with the soft hum of the news anchor on the television.

"found her." sam shimmies his laptop over so that joaquin and bucky can see the screen. "it pinged at some place in the city called the white lotus about ten minutes ago."

joaquin leans in, eyes narrowing and his brows knitting together as he scans the screen. "that's that fancy restaurant on where all of the lawyers and businessmen go to eat overpriced steak and wine. whats she doing there?"

"doesn't matter. something must be up if she left without telling us." sam shuts his screen and places it back onto the coffee table.

joaquin straightens. "you wanna roll out?"

"she's not answering her phone and she's been gone all day." sam points out. "we'll just do a check and see if everything's alright."

maybe it was because he was the only one in the room not looking at this through a tactical lens, but bucky felt as though he already knew exactly what you were doing— fancy resturaunt in the city, leaving without telling anyone, and not answering any calls. it was obvious. you probably could've written it in blood on the living room walls and sam and joaquin still wouldn't be able to tell what you were doing.

bucky shifts in his seat, tossing the remote across the couch and pulling his jacket onto his arms.

"i'll go." he tells them, firm and certain like there's no other option.

sam and joaquin turn to bucky, confusion written all over their faces. bucky never usually wants to get up, let alone leave the base, and now he's offering to go and find you in the middle of the city?

"you'll go?" sam echoes, suspicion tight in his voice. "you guys barely

"there's a reason why someone who tells you guys everything didnt tell you she was going out tonight. the last thing she needs is one of you complaine in her ear about her leaving without telling you— so i'll go." he says evenly, shrugging once. "needed a drink anyways."

sam watches bucky for a long moment, weighting the options in his head. on one hand, he trusts bucky and knows he wouldn't ruin things. on the other, the two of you don't really talk outside of work, and he couldn't possibly imagine what bucky would say that could bring you back.

but he gives in. he exhales. "fine. go."

bucky gives sam a short nod, already turning towards the door.

the drive to the city is quiet. bucky doesnt turn on the radio, nor does he reach for his phone. the only sound in the car is the rumble of the engine and the faint rush of wind funnelling in through the barely cracked window. traffic thickens the closer he gets to the city, headlights stretching ahead of him in long red lines, but he doesn't really notice. his mind isn't on the road as much as it's on you— on the image he's already built in his head.

you're probably sitting in that restaurant all dolled-up and sharing a bottle of red wine with someone just as put together and polished as you are. after all, you deserve someone who'll take you to fancy places and treat you well. you deserve more than that.

he exhales slightly, jaw twitching as he physically shakes the image out of his head. it's none of his business. he pulls out of the traffic and into a parking garage, paying the fee and stepping out into the cold.

the walk is fine. its not too far, but the weather and the foot traffic makes it feel like it takes hours. the city feels different at night, a different kind of bustling compared to the mornings. his feet scuff against the pavement as he dodges people and the breeze tussles his hair as he walks.

the white lotus isn't hard to find at all. it stands out immediately, a large building with windows for walls and warm lights that stand out against the grey of the city. golden lettering is etched neatly across the glass, and well dressed customers walk in and out like it's the finest establishment in the country.

bucky weaves in between cars and crosses the street, his hands stuffed in his pockets. he slows just enough to glance through the windows. he ignores the judgmental looks from a couple dining by the glass, his eyes narrowed as he focuses— and then he sees you.

you're sitting in the back corner, candlelight flickering against your tired face. the candle is already burned halfway down, and the bottle of wine you'd ordered is surely nearly empty. your finger traces the rim of your wine glass, and bucky notices that the table is set for two— two glasses, two menus, two plates— but you're totally and utterly alone.

theres no laughter drifting across the table, no delicious meals sitting on your plate, and certainly no polished date sitting across from you. its just you.

bucky watches as the bell above the door rings and a couple walks in. your head turns, hope flickering across your face until your shoulders drop once you realise it isn't who you'd been waiting for. you look down quickly after that like you don't want anyone to notice.

something in his chest sinks.

he'd expected to see you happy. to see you smiling at someone else like they'd hung the stars and the moon. to see that small shine in your eyes as they tell you a joke. he thought he'd see you with someone else who was better suited to your world than he could ever be, and guilt twists low in his stomach.

but instead, you're alone, and you have been for a long time.

bucky doesn't let himself linger outside anymore.

he pushes the door open, the small bell chiming overhead. the warmth of the restaurant swallows him whole, light piano music and cutlery against ceramic wrapping around him immediately, but the only thing he can focus on is you.

you dont look over anymore, probably tired of waiting, eyes set on the maroon liquid in your glass as you swirl it around and bring it to your mouth before taking a long sip.

a waiter dressed in a clean uniform steps forwards with a practiced smile. "good evening, sir. do you have a reservation?"

bucky shifts his weight. he doesn't, but you sure do.

he nods towards you, _____. "my date's already here."

the waiter follows bucky's gaze before he spots you in the back. recognition crossed his face and a sympathetic smile grows on his face.

"oh, the lady in the corner." he says gently, almost like you might hear him. "she's been waiting an awful long time for you, sir."

and the words land heavier than any punch could.

bucky's jaw tightens just slightly, but his expression doesn't change. he nods, "i know."

the waiter gives bucky a tightlipped smile before gesturing towards you and your table. "enjoy your dinner, sir."

bucky steps past him, weaving in between tables with practiced steady strides. a few heads turn— because he doesn't belong there like the other men do— but he ignores them all, his focus set entirely on you.

he stops at the edge of the table.

you don't notice him at first. you're staring down at your glass like the answer is somewhere in your wine, your thoughts clearly miles away. your posture is still composed, but there's a slight looseness to you now, sitting in the quiet haze of someone who's had just enough to take the edge off, but not enough to forget why you're here.

"this seat taken?" he asks, voice low and almost hesitant.

your head snaps up. for a split second, confusion clouds your features. you're sure it would've been your date, but the voice is familiar, something you've heard a million times before. your eyes focus properly, the haze lifting just enough for you to recognise him.

"bucky?"

surprise flickers across your face, quickly followed by something else— embarrassment, maybe. heat crawls up your neck as you blink, but then you curl into yourself like you dont want him to see you like this. something in his chest tightens.

up close, bucky can see you better— the faint smudge of your eyeliner like you'd rubbed at your waterline, the fading of your lipstick from the constant sips of wine, the crease in your foundation from all of the times you'd raised your brows when someone entered the resturaunt in hopeful expectation.

you tried to look perfect for someone who never showed up.

"what are you— what are you doing here?" you blink, still catching up, before your eyes drift towards the empty seat in front of you— the one that's been taunting you all night. you gesture towards it, still a little dazed. "sorry, you can— uh, you can sit down."

bucky doesn't hesitate. he tugs his jacket off of his arms and pulls the chair out just enough to slip in, his broad shoulders filling the area that'd remained empty for hours. the candlelight catches in his hair, the warm glow bathing him in light that softens all of the harsh lines of his face and the soft scars that sit on his skin. he looks so out of place in the restaurant, and yet he's the only thing that makes sense to you.

the waiter approached carefully once bucky's settled in, the same polished smile fixed onto his face. "can i bring you anything else this evening? perhaps you'd like dinner now?"

"no, i'm fine, thank you." you shake your head a little too quickly, jaw shifting as you glance towards bucky and then towards the shameful bottle of wine you'd been drowning your sorrows in. your voice is steady, but bucky can hear the exhaustion in it.

the waiter turns to him. "and for you, sir?"

"just a whiskey, thanks." bucky says without looking away from you. "and i'll take the check too."

"of course." the waiter nods. he gathers the unopened menus from in the table and disappears into the crowd of diners.

silence settles again, softer this time. the resturaunt moves around you— words and laughs are exchanged, a cork from a champagne bottle pops, and expensive perfume and cologne swirls through the air— but your table feels seperate from all of the noise.

your shoulders are drawn in like you're bracing for whatever bucky might throw at you. you're sure he's going to give you some kind of lecture on leaving the base without letting anyone know, because at the end of the day, he's sam's friend, and anyone who stands that close to sam wilson usually shares the same rule book.

you expect the sigh, the disappointed look, and the you should know better than this talk—but it never comes.

bucky doesn't lean back in his chair. he doesn't cross his arms. he doesnt give you that judgmental up-and-down that all of the other diners had given you all evening. he doesn't even look annoyed. he simply watches you, tired eyes scanning every single detail on your face. his metal fingers tap against the tablecloth a few times before stilling like he's trying to come up with something to say.

"how long have you been sitting here?" is what he settles on. the question sits heavy in his mind, and although he thinks he already knows the answer, he wants to hear it from you.

"longer than i'd like to admit." you say with a small smile, although it's anything but happy. your smile falters, your nail tapping at the stem of your glass. "how'd you find me?"

"sam and joaquin were worried about you. something about hacking your phone and finding your location?" he says.

you huff out a small breath through your nose, your hand flat against your forehead. "right, that. i forgot about that."

the waiter arrives with a glass of whiskey and places it in front of bucky with a smile before leaving. bucky takes the glass and swirls it around a few times before bringing it to his mouth.

across from him, you look small.

the sharp confidence you usually carry around the base is gone. your shoulder slope inwards. your makeup— done so carefully hours ago— creases and faded at the edges. your eyes are glossy like you've been fighting back tears all evening.

bucky lowers his glass gently, the base making a dull thud against the table, something heavy settling deep in his chest. he'd seen you bruised and bleeding, but this feels so much worse.

although the candlelight spills onto bucky like heavenly lighting, to you, it's exposing.

"why didnt you let anyone know you were leaving the base?" he asks quietly, like the question might cause you to retreat. "joaquin searched the whole building for you and almost had an aneurysm when he couldn't find you."

guilt rushes cold through your body.

"i know i should've, but..." your lips press together. "i don't know. maybe i was embarrassed.

his brow furrows. "what's there to be embarrassed about?"

you give him a humourless laugh. "everything. i dont go on dates, bucky. i didnt want to hear all of the teasing, or the jokes, or just— any of it. and then if it didn't work out..."

you vaguely gesture at the table you'd been calling home for the past few hours. it almost feels pathetic when you think about it— how you'd been waiting on someone who would never show up.

"i didn't want them to see that." you murmur.

across the resturaunt, another couple is being seated. the man pulls out a chair for a woman in a silk dress, a wide smile on her face as he pushes her in and plants a kiss to her cheek.

the sight makes your stomach twist.

bucky follows your line of sight. he watches the easy act of intimacy for a second before his eyes shift back to you.

"who was it?" he asks softly. "your date, i mean."

you let out a breath that's almost a scoff. "i don't even know. just some guy i met at the grocery store. he asked for my number, we texted for a while, and then he asked me out." you blink. "he had a nine-to-five. he always talked about football and his dog. his life sounded easy. normal."

the way your hands curl into themselves is telling.

"and you wanted that." bucky says.

"i wanted to see if i could have it." you hesitate. "it was a nice feeling knowing that someone wanted to have dinner with me because they liked me and were excited to see me. i'm tired of feeling like i have to bleed for everything good that happens to me."

and then, quieter and fragile in a way that catches bucky off guard, you ask— "why are you really here, bucky?"

his name sounds different when you say it like that. it doesn't roll of your tongue like it usually does when you're teasing him or calling out his name on missions. it almost sounds accusing, like maybe he might be here just to get on sam's good side by looking out for his friend.

bucky's tongue finds the inside of his cheek, metal fingers tapping the side of his glass a few times before wrapping around it entirely.

"i came because i knew what you were doing." he admits. "fancy restaurant, leaving without telling anyone, not answering your phone. didn't take a genius to figure it out."

"and?" you press gently.

"and..." his jaw flexes slightly. "i didn't like the thought of you sitting alone. i didnt like the idea of you waiting, or that if that asshole didn't show up, you'd start thinking you were the problem."

the honesty in his words is quiet, but it digs its way into your heart. warm tears brim at your waterline, and you hope that he can't see it in the dim lighting of this overpriced restaurant and that the candle that sits between you warps the shine in your eyes into something less obvious.

but bucky noticed anyways. he always does.

"some people just don't know what they've got until it's gone, and some people are stupid enough to lose it before they ever really had it." his eyes drag over you then, not in a way that makes you feel exposed, but in a way that makes you feel appreciated. "and you look good. anyone who makes you sit alone for hours when you look like this doesn't deserve to see you."

heat rises up your neck despite the tears that threaten to fall.

you shake your head, "you don't have to say that—"

"i'm not saying it to make you feel better. i'm saying it because it's true." the candlelight catches his eyes, turning then into something softer than you could ever imagine.

a tear slips from your eye and onto your cheek before you can stop it. you laugh quietly, a little embarrassed, swiping at it with the side of your hand and then pressing the tear to your dress.

his hand twitches slightly like he's considering reaching across the table and taking yours in his, wanting to show you that you don't have to hide your sadness. he doesnt, but the impulse is there.

"god, this is pathetic." you murmur. "crying over some guy i barely know."

"it's not." he says, certain and firm. "you showed up and he didn't. that already makes you a better person in my books, because at least you tried."

and the way he says it makes it feel like it's the simplest thing in the world. there's no pity in his expression, nor is there any hesitation, and you're sure he'd defend that statement in a courtroom if he had to.

your throat tightens again as you nod, but it's different this time— warmer.

bucky studies you for a moment longer before his eyes drop to the bottle of wine sitting idly on the table. "how much have you had to drink?"

you glance at the almost empty bottle and then at the barely-there smear of wine in your glass. "not nearly as much as i feel like i need."

the corners of his mouth lift— not quite into a smile, but something just as soft. "yeah, i get that."

you look tired now. you're sluggish, your blinks a little slower, and your posture is a little less guarded now. bucky can't tell if it's because you're sad, if you've just had a bit too much to drink, or if you're finally comfortable enough to let go now that he's here.

it's probably all three.

he lifts his glass to his mouth and throws back whatever whiskey remains in his glass in one smooth motion before setting it back down onto the table. the burn barely registers as it slides down his throat. he shifts towards the edge of his seat, big arms resting on the table as he leans towards you.

"how about we head back to the base, get you settled, and then you can watch however much shitty reality tv you want." he suggests, his voice low. "and if sam or joaquin wanna ask about where you were, then they'll have to go through me."

your brows raise as you blink a few times. you didnt think anyone actually realised you liked watching that stupid stuff. "how do you know i love watching shitty reality tv?"

"i pay attention." he shrugs a shoulder, almost a little embarrassed to admit it. "you pretend like you hate it, but you talk to the screen like they can hear you."

your cheeks warm. "i do not."

"you do." he doubles down with a soft nod, "you sit on the edge of the couch during the eliminations, and you get real mad when they send the wrong person home."

you stare at him. the restaurant swells around you again, the noise rushing in like waves to the shore, and for the first time in a while, the tightness in your chest has nothing to do with the wine or the vacant chair you'd stared at for hours beforehand, but has everything to do with the man sitting in front of you.

bucky shifts in his seat like he knows he's said more than he'd meant to before he reaches for his jacket he'd draped over his chair, pulling it over his arm in one swift motion.

"we should probably get going before they kick us out for not ordering anything with a shit ton of those orange balls on them." he says as he stands up, his chair making an obnoxious squealing noise against the ground that has the both of you stifling laughs.

"you mean caviar?" you grin.

"yeah, sure, whatever its called."

he steps around the table, offering his hand, and you take it, letting him help you up from your chair. your feet are a little unbalanced from the alcohol and the lack of blood flow, but you know that bucky is there to catch you if you ever fell.

"thanks, bucky." you swallow. "i really do appreciate it."

he pauses at that as he steadies you. the humour fades from his expression, replaced by something more earnest.

"you don't have to thank me." he says. "you would've done the same thing for me."

there's no hesitation or doubt in his voice, because you both know that it's true. you would've done it.

and as the two of you step outside into the cold, bucky drapes his jacket over your shoulders. the leather is still warm from his skin, and you sink into it as he pulls you close enough to steal your warmth from you.

that action alone lets you know that this was never really about sam or joaquin, or about following some stupid location protocol, or making sure you made it back to base safely because it was the responsible thing to do— it's because he cares.

so you pull his jacket a little tighter around your arms, breathing in the scent that leaks from the fabric as you let him guide you through the city streets like keeping you close is second nature.

the date might not have ended how you'd thought it might, but this is better than anything you could've hoped for.

i like to think that they didnt pay

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