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@sinful-sonnet
Welcome to my blog
This is my little corner where I pour my heart into stories about being hopelessly in love with grizzled legends like Joel Miller (The Last of Us). There’s more to come—my muse is just warming up.
Got a headcanon or a favorite character you want me to dive into? My asks are always open! Send me your ideas, because let’s face it, mine get stale way too fast. Let’s create something sinful together!
I just wanna say THANK YOU for the Barnabas Collins blurb, there’s NOT ENOUGH fanfic of him out there 😭😭😭😭
I used to be OBSESSED with him back in my highschool daysss.. I whole heartedly agree
“Bad Idea” Pairing: No-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Younger!Reader WC: 1k
Warnings: NSFW, age gap (reader is mid-20s, Joel is late 40s), rough sex, dirty talk, slight power imbalance, Joel feeling conflicted but giving in, unprotected sex, mild angst.
Joel shouldn’t have even been on Tinder.
It was Tommy’s fault. His dumbass younger brother had gotten drunk one night, talking about how Joel was too “damn grumpy” and “probably rusty as hell” when it came to women. Next thing he knew, Tommy had his phone in hand, setting up a profile for him with a blurry photo from a barbecue and a half-assed bio:
“Just a guy. Work too much. Lookin’ for something easy.”
Subtle.
He hadn’t taken it seriously. Had barely even looked at the app—until your name popped up.
You were young, too young for a man like him, but there was something about your profile that made him pause. Maybe it was your smile, all pretty and sweet, or the way your bio read just looking for trouble in a way that sounded like an invitation.
And maybe—maybe—he was just a little desperate.
So he swiped right.
And when the screen lit up with It’s a Match!, something hot and uneasy settled in his gut.
The messages started innocent enough. You asked him how his day was, teased him for using “dad emojis” when he sent a thumbs-up. He tried to talk himself out of it, but you were persistent, funny, and way too easy to talk to.
Then you sent, Wanna grab a drink?
And that was when Joel really should’ve deleted the damn app.
Instead, he replied: Yeah.
Now, he’s sitting across from you in some dimly lit bar, wondering how the hell he got here.
You’re even prettier in person, and that’s a problem. A big one. Your outfit hugs your body just right, and when you lean forward on your elbows, looking up at him with those wide, mischievous eyes, he feels like a goddamn fool for showing up.
“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” you admit, swirling your drink in your hand.
Joel exhales through his nose, gripping the beer bottle in his palm. “Neither did I.”
You laugh. “You nervous, old man?”
Joel huffs, taking a sip of his drink to mask the way his jaw clenches. “Not nervous. Just wonderin’ what the hell a girl like you wants with a guy like me.”
Your lips curve, slow and knowing. “Maybe I like older men.”
He swallows. He shouldn’t. Shouldn’t engage, shouldn’t entertain it.
But then your foot brushes up his calf under the table, and his fingers tighten around the bottle.
Yeah. He’s fucked.
It doesn’t take long to end up back at his place.
Joel barely gets the door shut before you’re on him, pressing up against his chest, fingers sliding beneath the hem of his shirt. He groans when your hands find his stomach, when you kiss up the side of his throat like you already know he’s been starving for this.
“Bad idea,” he mutters, even as he cups your jaw, even as he tilts your head back and drags his mouth over yours.
“Yeah?” You hum, pressing against him, rolling your hips up to feel the evidence of how bad an idea it really is. “Then why aren’t you stopping?”
Joel growls, gripping your ass and walking you backward until your back hits the wall. “Because you don’t want me to.”
Your smirk falters when he presses a thigh between your legs, forcing a gasp from you. His hands are rough, gripping your waist, pushing your shirt up so he can feel the heat of your skin.
You whimper when he shoves a hand down the front of your jeans, fingers sliding over soaked fabric. “Jesus,” he rasps. “You been like this all night?”
You nod, panting against his lips. “Wanted you since I saw your picture.”
“Fuck.” Joel’s resolve snaps. He grabs the hem of your shirt, yanking it up and over your head. “Gonna ruin you, sweetheart.”
You moan, arching into his touch, letting him strip you down piece by piece. When he gets you on the bed, he’s already yanking his belt free, already undoing his jeans.
You spread your legs, looking up at him with those wicked, needy eyes, and any last bit of hesitation he had vanishes.
Joel fists his cock, stroking himself as he takes you in—soft and open, waiting for him. “Gonna regret this in the morning,” he mutters.
You smile, hooking your fingers into his belt loops, tugging him closer. “Not a chance.”
And then he’s sinking into you, slow and deep, groaning as your body stretches around him.
And fuck, it’s a bad idea.
But it feels too goddamn good to stop now.
You’re making the prettiest sounds—little gasps and whimpers, breathy moans that go straight to his cock. Your pussy is tight and hot around him, squeezing down every time he drives in deep, and it’s making him lose his goddamn mind.
“Fuck, Joel,” you whimper, rocking your hips up to meet his thrusts. “So good—so fucking deep.”
He groans, leaning down to nip at your throat, gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. “Yeah? This what you wanted, sweetheart?”
You nod frantically, body arching against him. “Please, don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t want to. Not even close. He wants to ruin you, fuck you stupid, make sure you’ll be thinking about this for weeks—
But then it happens.
His rhythm falters, his breath catches, and suddenly there’s a tight, burning heat in his spine, his balls drawing up too fast, too soon.
“Shit,” he grits out, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to will it away. He’s not ready yet—fuck, you’re not ready yet—but your pussy feels too good, too perfect, and he’s slipping, losing control.
Panic flares in his chest, and he blurts out, “In or out?”
You blink up at him, dazed. “What?”
Joel stills, and that’s when you feel it.
His cock twitches inside you, hot and pulsing, and you realize—oh.
You bite back a grin. “Did you just—?”
Joel groans, pressing his forehead against yours, jaw clenched. “Goddammit.”
You giggle, reaching up to stroke his cheek, amused at the way his face is flushed with both exertion and embarrassment. “It’s okay,” you murmur, tilting your hips just a little to squeeze around him. “You were just too excited, huh?”
He glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it. Just frustration.
And maybe just a little bit of shame.
“Don’t start,” he mutters, but you can feel how sensitive he is, how he twitches inside you at your teasing.
You smirk, knowing damn well you’ll be replaying this moment later, fingers between your thighs, chasing the high he didn’t quite get you to.
Joel sighs, pulling out slowly, already reaching for a towel. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”
You stretch out on his bed, still flushed, still needy, and watch as he runs a hand through his messy hair.
Maybe next time, you’ll finish first.
Or maybe… you’ll make him lose control again.
ADORATION. EAT UP MY HELLHOUNDS, DINNER IS READY. PLEASE ENJOY.
featuring general acacius worshipping you like the royalty you are.
i wanted to create another piece to celebrate the Gladiator II release!
TW: BUTTCHEEKS
*please do not take down. this is inspired/referenced by the adoration statue ;-; *
A Bloom in the Shadows (Barnabas Collins x Female!Reader, Dark Shadows Fanfic)
A/N: This story is purely for my own enjoyment, as I was obsessed with this movie during my teenage years—but maybe some of you will enjoy it too!
For as long as you could remember, your family had tended the graveyard just beyond the village. It was a quiet place, nestled between old, gnarled trees that seemed to whisper in the wind, their roots tangled with the bones of those long past. Your father had once told you that the land itself remembered every soul laid to rest within it.
You had learned the names on the weathered tombstones by heart, the dates worn away by time. But there was one that stood apart from the rest. A grand, ancient crypt, its stone facade still strong despite centuries of wind and rain. The name carved into it was nearly unreadable, but you knew the stories—tales of a conqueror who had ruled with both wisdom and cruelty, his legend stretching back nearly a thousand years.
It was rare for anyone to visit the dead. But someone came for this one.
At first, it was just a small detail you noticed—a bouquet of fresh roses, always placed carefully at the base of the crypt's entrance. Sometimes deep red, sometimes white, always pristine. They would wilt within a day or two, yet, without fail, another bouquet would appear within the week.
You had assumed it was a relative, though none of the town’s elders spoke of such a thing.
It wasn’t until one evening, as dusk settled like a heavy shroud, that you saw him.
A man, tall and dressed in old-fashioned attire, stood before the crypt, his silhouette stark against the dying light. His black cloak billowed in the cold breeze, and in his pale hands, he held another bouquet of roses. You had meant to stay hidden behind the nearest tombstone, to observe in silence, but when he turned, his dark, piercing eyes found yours in an instant.
“I see I have been noticed,” he murmured, voice smooth as velvet.
You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Who are you?”
He regarded you for a long moment, something ancient in his gaze. Then, with a small bow of his head, he answered, “Barnabas Collins.”
The name sent a shiver down your spine. It was familiar, but not from any living soul. Your great-great-grandfather’s old journal—an heirloom kept in your family’s attic—had mentioned a man of that name. A visitor to the graveyard who had not aged in the span of decades.
Your hands curled into fists. “That’s not possible,” you whispered. “My ancestor wrote about you… a hundred and fifty years ago.”
He smiled then, the corners of his mouth curling slightly, though there was something melancholy in the gesture. “And yet, here I stand.”
Your pulse quickened. There was only one explanation. “You’re—”
“A relic of a time long past,” he interrupted, voice laced with something unreadable. “And yet, some duties remain.” He glanced at the crypt beside him. “He was a great man once, this conqueror. A tyrant to some, a savior to others. And still, after a thousand years, his name is spoken only by those who tend the graves of the forgotten.”
You stared at him, at the way the dim light caught the edges of his sharp features. You should have been afraid. Perhaps some part of you was. But there was something sorrowful about him, something that made you hesitate.
“…Why do you bring him flowers?”
Barnabas exhaled softly. “A debt repaid.” He stepped closer, and though the chill of night crept over your skin, you felt something else in his presence—something cold yet strangely captivating. “But it seems I am not the only one who remembers.”
You hesitated. “You knew my ancestor?”
A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. “We spoke, long ago. He, too, had questions.” He studied you closely. “Perhaps, in time, you will seek the answers as well.”
Something in his gaze told you that this was only the beginning.
And for the first time in your life, standing among the dead, you felt that perhaps the graveyard held more than just memories.
Perhaps it held secrets waiting to be uncovered.
And perhaps, Barnabas Collins was one of them.
The graveyard had never frightened you before. You had walked its paths since childhood, tended its tombs with your father, and memorized the names etched into stone like a second language. But now, under the moon’s silver glow, you found yourself searching for something else—someone else.
Barnabas Collins.
Since that fateful night, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. His old-fashioned manner of speaking, his sorrowful gaze, the way his presence sent a chill down your spine yet somehow felt… mesmerizing. You knew what he was, or at least, you had an idea. A man who had not aged in a century and a half could only be something unnatural. And yet, you weren’t afraid.
You wanted to see him again.
And you weren’t sure if it was curiosity or foolishness that made you return night after night.
“You are persistent,” a familiar voice murmured from the shadows.
You turned sharply, heart pounding against your ribs. He stood beneath the ancient willow tree, half-shrouded in darkness, as if the night itself had birthed him. His dark cloak stirred slightly in the wind, his piercing eyes gleaming in the dim light.
“You noticed,” you said, trying to mask your excitement beneath feigned calm.
Barnabas tilted his head slightly, as if trying to read your intent. “You linger here often. One might assume you are waiting for someone.”
You stepped closer, emboldened by the way his gaze followed your every move. “And if I was?”
A smirk ghosted across his lips. “Then I would ask… why?”
It was a fair question, one you had been asking yourself since that night. But the answer wasn’t simple.
“I want to know more about you,” you admitted.
His smirk faded, replaced by something unreadable. “Curiosity is a dangerous thing.”
“So is keeping secrets.”
A low chuckle escaped him. “You are bold.”
You held his gaze, refusing to look away. “You’ve been leaving flowers at that crypt for longer than my family has been keeping this cemetery. You knew my great-great-grandfather. You claim to be the same man he wrote about. So tell me, Barnabas Collins—why wouldn’t I be curious?”
For a moment, he said nothing. The air between you was thick with silence, the kind that carried unspoken words and hidden meanings. Then, he took a step forward.
“You seek answers,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost intimate. “But tell me, what will you do when you find them?”
The way he spoke, the way his gaze seemed to pull you in, sent a shiver down your spine. You swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”
Barnabas lifted a gloved hand, reaching as though to brush a stray lock of hair from your face—but he stopped just short, fingers trembling slightly before he withdrew.
He was toying with you. Testing you.
And you should have been frightened.
But you weren’t.
Barnabas watched you, intrigued. You had come back—again and again. What was it about him that fascinated you so? Surely, by now, you suspected what he was. You should have been terrified. Running. Praying for daylight.
And yet, here you stood before him, unwavering.
He had intended to lure you closer, to ensnare you in the spell he had woven over many before you. Your blood was warm, your heartbeat strong, thrumming like a siren’s call beneath your delicate skin. It would be so easy.
But something in your voice, something in your gaze, struck a chord within him.
It had been so long since anyone had looked at him like that—not with fear, not with revulsion, but with genuine curiosity.
Even admiration.
A bitter ache spread through his chest, something he had long since buried.
“You should be careful,” he said finally, stepping back. “Not all who dwell in the night are as kind as I.”
You frowned. “Are you warning me?”
His smirk returned, though this time, it was almost… fond. “Perhaps I am warning myself.”
He turned on his heel, his cloak sweeping behind him as he disappeared into the mist.
You remained rooted to the spot, your breath uneven, your heart pounding with something you didn’t quite understand.
Whatever had just passed between you, whatever strange connection had begun to form, you knew one thing for certain:
This was far from over.
And for the first time in his long, lonely existence, Barnabas Collins found himself hoping… that you would come back.
You didn’t return to the graveyard the next night.
Or the night after.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see Barnabas again—if anything, you found yourself thinking about him constantly. The way he spoke, the way he moved, how his presence made the air feel heavier, charged with something unnameable. But now that you had time to reflect, the truth loomed over you like a shadow:
You didn’t know what he was.
A man who had not aged in over a century. Who appeared only at night. Who had an eerie stillness about him, as if he was more sculpture than flesh.
A vampire.
It made sense. All the signs were there. And yet… a part of you doubted. What if he wasn’t? What if he was something worse? A ghost, perhaps. A specter that walked among the dead, untouchable, unable to move on.
That thought chilled you almost as much as the first.
Because as terrifying as a vampire was, a ghost meant something far crueler.
It meant that Barnabas Collins could never truly be real.
By the third night, you couldn’t keep yourself away.
You returned to the graveyard, heart hammering against your ribs as you walked through the mist-laden rows of tombstones. The crypt stood as it always had—silent, waiting. But he was nowhere to be seen.
You exhaled, frustration and relief warring inside you. Maybe this was a sign that you should stop chasing shadows.
But then—
“I wondered when you would return.”
You froze.
Barnabas stood at the edge of the path, half-hidden in darkness, his black coat blending with the night itself. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something close to amusement, or maybe curiosity.
You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “I wasn’t sure if I should.”
He took a step closer. Not a sound came from his movements, as if the earth itself refused to acknowledge his presence.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked softly.
You stiffened. The question was too direct, too knowing. But could you lie to him?
“…I don’t know,” you admitted.
His lips twitched, almost as if he found your response amusing. “And yet, here you are.”
“I have questions,” you said, trying to sound confident.
“Ah. Questions.” He studied you for a long moment, then took another step forward. “And do you believe you will like the answers?”
That was the problem, wasn’t it?
If he told you he was a vampire, would you run? Could you? If he was a ghost, an echo of something long past, could you bear it?
You took a shaky breath. “I don’t know what you are.”
He tilted his head, his dark gaze never leaving yours. “What do you think I am?”
Your throat felt tight. “A vampire,” you whispered.
The wind stirred between you, ruffling the edges of his coat. He didn’t deny it.
Your pulse quickened. “Are you?”
For a moment, he simply stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he lifted his hand—slowly, deliberately—toward yours.
You should have pulled away. But you didn’t.
His fingers brushed against your wrist, his touch cool, almost startling. Not a ghost, your mind screamed. He’s real.
But before you could process that thought, before you could breathe, he turned your hand over, palm facing up.
Then he lifted it—bringing it just close enough to his lips that you could feel his breath ghost over your skin.
Cold.
The air was too still. Your heartbeat too loud.
Barnabas watched you carefully, his lips hovering just above your wrist, as if waiting… testing.
You couldn’t move. You weren’t sure if it was fear or fascination that kept you still.
But then, in an instant, he let your hand go.
“I believe,” he murmured, voice dark and knowing, “that you already have your answer.”
Your breath came in short, uneven gasps as you stepped back, your skin still tingling where he had touched you.
His eyes flickered—just for a moment—with something you couldn’t quite place.
And then he smiled.
A slow, almost sad smile.
“You should not seek me out again,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
It was not a threat. It was a warning.
But as he disappeared into the night, you knew one thing for certain.
You would seek him out again.
Because despite the fear curling in your chest…
You weren’t ready to let Barnabas Collins go.
Not yet.
You should have been afraid.
You should have run, listened to his warning, and never returned to the graveyard. But instead, the memory of his touch haunted you, the cold ghost of his fingers still lingering on your skin.
You wanted him.
That truth had settled in your bones like a sickness, twisting and growing until it consumed every thought. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It wasn’t just the mystery of what he was.
It was him.
His voice. His presence. The way he looked at you like he was both fascinated and troubled by you all at once. You wanted to see that restraint crack. To see what lay beneath the control, beneath the centuries of solitude.
And so, when the next night came, you had a plan.
You wouldn’t run this time.
You wouldn’t just seek answers.
You would make Barnabas Collins want you back.
You dressed carefully, deliberately. Something simple, yet enticing. A dress that clung in the right places, exposing just enough to stir temptation. The cool air bit at your skin as you walked through the graveyard, but you didn’t mind. Let him see you like this. Let him notice.
And he did.
You felt him before you saw him. That unnatural stillness, the way the air thickened when he was near. You turned your head slowly, letting your lips curve into something playful, something just shy of a challenge.
“Barnabas,” you greeted, your voice softer than usual.
He stood at the edge of the shadows, his sharp gaze taking you in. His usual restraint was still there, but you caught it—the flicker of something else. Something darker.
“You should not be here,” he murmured, though there was no force behind the words.
You took a slow step toward him. “I think we both know I was always going to come back.”
He said nothing, but you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the way his throat bobbed slightly as if swallowing something unspoken.
Good.
You let the silence stretch between you, then tilted your head. “Are you going to ask me why I’m here?”
His jaw clenched slightly. “I already know.”
You smiled. “Then why do you hesitate?”
Barnabas exhaled sharply, his gaze darkening. “You do not understand what it is you are playing with.”
“Don’t I?”
You stepped closer—so close that you could feel the cold radiating from him, a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your own body. His breath hitched, just slightly, and that was all the encouragement you needed.
You reached up, brushing your fingers against the lapel of his coat, trailing slowly down. His entire frame went rigid, as if holding himself in place by sheer force of will.
“Is it fear?” you whispered. “Or something else?”
Barnabas inhaled sharply, his gloved hand catching your wrist before you could trail lower.
“Do you understand what I could do to you?” he asked, his voice raw, edged with something dangerous.
You met his gaze without flinching. “Do you?”
His grip tightened—just for a moment—before he abruptly let you go, stepping back as if you had burned him.
Damn it.
You had felt it, the pull, the way his resolve had wavered for just a moment. But he was still holding back.
Fine.
You weren’t finished yet.
“You want me,” you said, voice steady. “I can feel it.”
He turned away, his expression unreadable. “You are playing a dangerous game, my dear.”
You smirked, taking a slow step forward. “Then why aren’t you walking away?”
He didn’t answer.
Because he couldn’t.
You reached up again, but this time, you didn’t touch him. You let your fingers hover near his throat, feeling the coolness of his skin without ever making contact. A test. A tease.
His breath was uneven now, his restraint cracking.
Then, suddenly, he moved.
Faster than you could register, he had you pinned against the nearest tombstone, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in. His face was inches from yours, his breath chilling your lips.
“You should run,” he rasped.
You shuddered, but not from fear.
“Then make me,” you whispered.
Something inside him snapped.
He caught your chin between his gloved fingers, tilting your head back, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat. His lips hovered just above your skin, so close that you could feel the ghost of his breath.
Your pulse pounded in your ears, a frantic drumbeat, and you knew he could hear it.
You weren’t sure if you wanted him to bite you… or kiss you.
Maybe both.
Barnabas lingered there, so close, so impossibly still. You could almost feel his lips brush against you, but just as quickly as he had grabbed you—he let go.
He pulled back abruptly, his expression twisted with frustration, with something close to self-loathing. His fists clenched at his sides, as if physically restraining himself.
“Go home,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.
You swallowed, your body still humming from his nearness. “Is that what you really want?”
His eyes flashed, sharp and hungry. “No,” he admitted. “But it is what must be.”
With that, he turned, vanishing into the night.
You exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to your chest as you tried to steady yourself.
You had gotten to him.
You had won.
But now, you wanted more.
And next time… you would make sure Barnabas Collins didn’t hold back.
Office Hours
Professor! Joel Miller x Female Reader Slow Burn | Age Gap | Power Dynamics | Eventual NSFW | W/C: 3k
You weren't supposed to be here. Not like this, sitting across from him in the dim glow of his office lamp, fingers twisting in your lap as he looked over your latest essay with that familiar furrow in his brow.
Joel Miller was nothing like the other professors on campus. He wasn’t one for pointless lectures or pretentious intellectual posturing. He spoke with purpose, moved like he belonged in a different world—one of sweat and hard labor rather than academia. And unlike the men your age, he carried himself with something heavier. Experience. Strength. A quiet intensity that made your stomach twist in ways it shouldn’t.
You’d signed up for his class purely on accident—another elective to fill your credits. You hadn’t expected to spend the semester shifting in your seat, hanging onto every word that left his mouth, heat rising to your cheeks when his gaze landed on you. And now, alone with him, the reality of your situation pressed against you like a vice.
He cleared his throat, flipping the paper closed. “You can do better.”
Your stomach dropped. “I—”
“I know you can,” he interrupted, leveling you with a stare that made your breath hitch. “You’ve got a sharp mind. This feels like you were rushin’ through it.”
You swallowed. He was right, but the way he said it—low, rough, with just a hint of something softer—made your pulse race for an entirely different reason.
“I’ve just been... distracted.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He leaned back in his chair, broad arms crossing over his chest. “That so?”
You hesitated. This was a dangerous game, toeing the line between student and professor, between innocent and something else entirely. But you’d seen the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching. You weren’t imagining it—the fleeting glances, the way his fingers sometimes gripped his coffee mug a little too tightly when you spoke.
You nodded, voice softer now. “Yeah.”
His gaze didn’t waver. For a long moment, the only sound in the office was the hum of the old heater against the quiet night outside. Then, finally, he exhaled, shaking his head.
“You should go.”
Your heart dropped. “Professor Miller, I—”
“This ain’t somethin’ you wanna start.” His voice was gruff, but there was no real anger in it. Just restraint. “Trust me.”
And maybe you should have left. Maybe you should have taken the out he was giving you. But instead, you stood, slowly crossing the room until you stood just beside his desk. Close enough that you could see the flecks of silver in his beard, the way his hands curled into fists against the polished wood.
“Maybe I do,” you murmured.
His breath caught. For the first time since you stepped into his office, you saw it—the crack in his resolve, the way his pupils darkened as his gaze flickered down to your lips.
But then, just as quickly, he turned away, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Go home.”
You hesitated, then nodded, stepping back. You didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you.
You left, heart pounding. But you knew one thing for certain.
This wasn’t over.
You sat at the very back of the lecture hall, your legs crossed, trying to appear unaffected by his presence at the front of the room. Professor Miller paced in front of the chalkboard, his voice steady, firm, explaining the intricacies of physics with that deep, commanding tone that made your stomach clench.
But you weren’t listening.
Your hand was hidden beneath the desk, fingers gripping the hem of your skirt before slipping between your thighs. You exhaled slowly, barely parting them, just enough to let your fingers trail over the sensitive flesh underneath. A quiet thrill ran up your spine, heat pooling low in your belly as you let yourself indulge in the forbidden.
He had no idea.
Or did he?
You risked a glance up. Joel was standing by the board, writing an equation, his broad shoulders shifting beneath the fabric of his button-up. You could see the way the veins in his forearms flexed as he moved, the strong lines of his hands as he gripped the chalk.
Your fingers pressed a little deeper. A little slower.
God, if only he knew. If only he’d look up, see the way your breath was coming faster, the way your knees trembled just slightly as you bit your lip to keep from making a sound.
His voice cut through your thoughts. “Everyone understand so far?”
A few murmured affirmations from the class. You barely registered them. Your fingers were slick now, the friction sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, making it harder to keep still.
Then—
His gaze flickered up. Right at you.
Your breath hitched, the tension tightening in your stomach, coiling hot and tight, ready to snap—
And then the bell rang.
A chorus of movement surrounded you. Chairs scraped against the floor, bags were slung over shoulders, and the hush of the classroom broke into murmurs as students began to rise, shuffling toward the door.
The moment was ripped from you just as quickly as it had built, the pressure in your core left unresolved, frustratingly close yet so far away. You swallowed hard, withdrawing your hand as heat flooded your cheeks.
Joel looked away abruptly, his shoulders stiff, his fingers gripping the edge of the podium with enough force that his knuckles turned white.
He had to get out of here. Fast.
But not before he risked one last glance at you.
And what he saw nearly ruined him.
Your pupils were blown, your lips parted, and you were breathing just a little too fast. He knew.
And he knew this wasn’t over.
Joel clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the edge of the podium as he watched you gather your things. His body was wound tight, heat creeping up his neck as he tried to steady his breathing.
You had no idea what you were doing to him.
Or maybe you did.
That thought alone made it worse.
He’d seen your flushed cheeks, the way your lips parted just before the bell rang. That dazed, needy look in your eyes when you realized the moment had slipped away from you. And fuck, he’d almost let himself watch for too long—almost let himself acknowledge what you had been doing under that desk.
Almost.
His grip on the wood tightened as he let out a slow breath through his nose, forcing his gaze away from you. Students were still filing out, shuffling past him, their voices a dull murmur against the rush of blood in his ears. He needed to leave. He needed to get the hell out of this room before he did something stupid.
But then he felt it.
Your presence.
Lingering.
He didn’t look up right away. He couldn’t. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his expression neutral, to keep himself from giving too much away. But he could sense you standing near the exit, hesitating.
Waiting.
His fingers flexed against the podium before he exhaled sharply and finally forced himself to meet your gaze.
It was a mistake.
Because the moment his eyes locked onto yours, his control cracked.
There was something different in the way you looked at him now. A quiet challenge. A hint of satisfaction beneath the lingering frustration of being denied what you had been so close to achieving.
Joel swallowed hard.
He should say something. Dismiss you. Tell you to go home, like he had in his office that night.
But the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, the silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken.
His heart slammed against his ribs as his body betrayed him, his mind flashing back to the sight of you in that chair, shifting, your breath catching. He shouldn’t be thinking about it. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.
And yet—
“Professor?”
Your voice was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it. A knowing lilt.
His throat went dry.
He should walk away.
Instead, he nodded once, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Yeah?”
You hesitated for only a second before stepping closer—too close. Close enough that he could see the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. Close enough that he could smell the faintest hint of your perfume, something warm and sweet that curled around him, sinking into his skin.
“I… had a question about today’s lecture.”
Joel clenched his jaw. He knew exactly what you were doing.
And he was letting you.
Fucking idiot.
He glanced around, making sure the last of the students had left before answering. “What’s your question?”
Your lips curved—not quite a smile, but close.
“I was hoping you could explain something… in more detail.”
His pulse hammered.
This was bad.
This was really bad.
But instead of shutting it down, instead of telling you to leave, Joel exhaled slowly and stepped back, nodding toward his desk.
“Close the door.”
And just like that, the last thread of his restraint unraveled.
You hesitated for only a moment before you did as he said, reaching back to gently push the door closed. The click of the latch echoed in the empty lecture hall, sending a shiver up your spine.
Your pulse was a drum in your ears, anticipation and anxiety twisting together as you turned to face him. Joel stood by his desk, his fingers curled against the wood as if he needed to physically ground himself. His jaw was tight, his gaze unreadable—but there was no mistaking the heat behind his eyes.
God, you wanted him.
Hell, you needed him.
But the moment you took a step forward, another thought hit you, cold and sharp.
What if someone found out?
What if the higher-ups heard whispers of this? What if a student saw the way he looked at you, the way you lingered after class? What if someone suspected something and reported him?
The thought made your stomach drop.
Joel had worked here for years. He had a reputation—respected, intelligent, firm but fair. He wasn’t the type to abuse his position, to cross lines he shouldn’t. If anyone so much as hinted at misconduct, it could ruin him.
It could ruin both of you.
Your throat tightened.
This wasn’t just some reckless crush on an older professor. This was dangerous. A risk. And yet, as much as the fear gripped you, it didn’t lessen the ache that had taken root deep in your core.
You wanted this.
You wanted him.
But was it worth the consequences?
You licked your lips, heart hammering. “Professor, I—”
He tensed. “Don’t.” His voice was hoarse, like he was barely holding himself together. “Don’t call me that right now.”
A shiver rolled through you.
He was struggling just as much as you were.
And that only made you want him more.
Still, you forced yourself to take a breath, to ignore the heat pooling low in your belly. “This is dangerous,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Joel’s eyes darkened. “I know.”
He should be the one to stop this. To tell you to leave, to walk away before either of you did something you couldn’t take back.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he watched you. Waiting.
Letting you decide.
Your fingers curled at your sides. If you left now, if you walked out that door and never pushed this again, he would let you. He’d pretend nothing had happened, pretend he hadn’t seen what you were doing under the desk, pretend he hadn’t felt his own restraint slipping when he looked at you.
But if you stayed—
If you took another step forward—
There would be no turning back.
Your breath came out unsteady as you swallowed hard, your heart caught between reason and desire.
The air in the lecture hall was thick, heavy with unspoken tension. Your hands felt clammy at your sides, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. You weren’t sure if it was from fear, from need, or from the undeniable weight of this—whatever it was you were about to do.
Joel sat at the edge of his desk, his broad arms crossed, watching you. His expression was unreadable, his jaw tight, his fingers gripping at the edge of the wood like he was forcing himself to stay put.
You could tell.
He was waiting.
“Alright,” he finally said, voice rough. “What’s the question?”
You swallowed.
“What?”
He tilted his head, his dark eyes unwavering. “You said you had a question about today’s lecture.” His voice was measured, calm—too calm. Like he was testing you, pushing you, but not crossing the line himself. Not yet.
He was going to make you do it.
If you wanted this, if you really wanted this, it would have to be your move.
Not his.
Because if he made the first move, if he gave in first, there’d be no coming back from it.
Your breath hitched as you realized exactly what he was doing.
Giving you an out.
If you wanted to pretend this was nothing, if you wanted to walk away and never touch this line again, he was letting you. He wouldn’t push. Wouldn’t ask. Wouldn’t even let himself admit what had been simmering between you both for weeks now.
But if you gave him an excuse—
If you so much as hinted at what you really wanted—
He wouldn’t hold back.
Your fingers twitched at your sides. You felt too hot, too aware of the space between you. Your thighs clenched together instinctively, but you knew that wouldn’t help anything.
Your mind was screaming at you to be smart, to walk away, to leave before you got him into something he couldn’t escape.
But your body?
Your body was already making the decision for you.
Slowly, carefully, you stepped closer.
Joel didn’t move, didn’t flinch. His only reaction was a small, sharp inhale through his nose, his fingers flexing against the desk.
Your stomach flipped.
This was it.
Your move.
Your choice.
What the hell were you going to do?
Your mind was spinning, every rational thought tangled up in the thick pull of him, of the weight of his gaze, the way his fingers flexed against the desk like he was barely holding himself back.
You could still walk away. You should walk away.
But instead, you inhaled deeply and forced yourself to focus, to think of something—anything—that could give you a reason to stay.
A question.
Something that would force him to touch you.
Your lips parted, and the words spilled before you could stop them.
“I… I didn’t quite understand how force and acceleration relate in a real-world scenario,” you murmured, voice quieter than you intended. “The equation makes sense, but I can’t seem to feel it. I think I need to see it applied physically.”
Joel’s brows furrowed slightly, but something flickered in his eyes—something dark, something aware.
You were treading dangerous waters, and he knew it.
Still, he didn’t stop you.
Instead, he pushed off the desk and took a slow step forward, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes roamed over you, sharp and assessing, like he was deciding whether or not to call your bluff.
“You wanna feel it,” he echoed, voice low and edged with something dangerous.
You swallowed. “Y-yeah.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stood there, watching you, his gaze dragging over your face, your parted lips, the way your fingers fidgeted at your sides.
Then, without a word, he reached past you.
You sucked in a breath as his arm brushed against yours, his warmth seeping through your sleeve. He grabbed a textbook from the desk, flipping it open absently, pretending like this was just any other lesson.
But it wasn’t.
You both knew it.
“Alright,” he said, voice rough as he turned a page. “You remember Newton’s Second Law?”
You nodded quickly. “Force equals mass times acceleration.”
He hummed, his gaze flicking to yours, unreadable. “Right.”
Then, before you could react, he shifted closer—so close that your back bumped into the edge of a nearby desk. You barely had time to process the way heat radiated off of him before his hand was wrapping gently around your wrist.
Your breath caught.
“This,” he murmured, guiding your hand toward the heavy textbook, “is mass.”
You shivered, the warmth of his palm pressing firmly against yours. His grip was steady, his fingers rough with experience, but he didn’t move any closer. Didn’t push.
He was waiting.
Waiting for you to stop him.
But you didn’t.
Your heart pounded as he placed the book in your hand, his other palm coming up to hover just over your shoulder. Close. Too close.
“Now,” he continued, voice softer, “apply force.”
You hesitated, your grip tightening around the textbook.
He raised an eyebrow, then—so slightly you barely registered it—his fingers brushed against your wrist, guiding you to move.
You inhaled sharply as you lifted the book, feeling the weight shift under your control. Your arm trembled slightly—not because of the strain, but because of him. Because of his hand on you, the way his touch sent shivers up your spine.
“See?” he murmured. “The greater the force, the greater the acceleration.”
You barely heard him. Your brain wasn’t computing physics anymore. The only thing you could process was the warmth of his skin, the way he hadn’t pulled away yet.
How dangerously easy it would be to turn just a fraction, to press yourself fully against him, to close the space entirely.
Joel exhaled slowly. His grip lingered for just a second too long before he finally let go, stepping back like nothing had happened.
But the tension?
It was still there.
He cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “That answer your question?”
You blinked up at him, breathless.
You should say yes. Should thank him and leave before you did something reckless.
But instead—
“Not quite.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, like he knew exactly what you were doing.
And he was going to let you.
Your move.
Joel stared at you.
Not just looked, but really stared—like he was fighting every single instinct screaming at him to stop, to walk away, to keep whatever this was buried deep down where it belonged.
But you weren’t letting him.
You saw it in the way his jaw flexed, in the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to grab something—wanted to grab you.
And still, he hesitated.
“Go home.” His voice was low, strained, barely controlled.
You shook your head. “No.”
His nostrils flared. “I ain’t doin’ this.”
You stepped closer, closing what little distance remained between you, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please… just show me.”
It shattered whatever restraint he had left.
Joel moved faster than you could process, grabbing you, his rough hands wrapping around your waist as he spun you around, your back hitting the desk behind you with a sharp gasp.
Before you could blink, his large hand was at your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his.
"You wanna be shown?" he muttered, voice dripping with something dark, something possessive.
You nodded, breathless, aching.
He let out a sharp exhale, his forehead almost pressing against yours. "Goddamn it."
Then he kissed you.
No, kissed wasn’t the right word—he took you.
It was rough, unrelenting, his lips hot and desperate against yours, his fingers digging into your waist as if you might disappear if he didn’t hold you still.
You moaned into his mouth, your hands flying up to grip at his shirt, fisting the fabric to keep yourself steady as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your knees buckle.
Joel felt it, because in the next second, he was grabbing the back of your thigh and lifting you onto the desk like you weighed nothing.
Your legs instinctively parted, and he wasted no time stepping between them, his hips pressing into yours, trapping you in place.
“This what you wanted, huh?” he growled, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, his beard scraping against your skin in a way that made you shiver. “Wanted to push me until I cracked?”
You could barely think, let alone form words.
“Yes,” you breathed, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
He groaned, gripping your hips tighter. “Shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he muttered against your skin, his lips finding the spot just below your ear, biting down just enough to make you whimper. “Should send you home.”
You shuddered, arching into him. “Then do it.”
He growled, his fingers tightening around your thighs, spreading them wider.
“No,” he muttered, voice raw. “Not after the way you looked at me in that classroom. Not after what you were doin’ under that damn desk.”
His hand slid higher, pushing up your skirt, fingers ghosting over the sensitive heat between your legs. You gasped, your whole body tensing as he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath hot, heavy.
“You wanted me to notice, didn’t you?”
You nodded frantically, your breath hitching.
“Say it.”
You swallowed hard. “I… I wanted you to notice.”
His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, barely touching where you needed him most. “And now that I have?”
You were trembling, aching. “Please.”
Joel let out a deep, guttural sound, his self-control snapping like a rubber band stretched too tight for too long.
"Fine," he murmured darkly, his lips brushing against yours.
"Let me show you."
Joel’s hands were everywhere—hot, rough, steady—grounding you against the desk as if he were calculating every movement, every reaction.
"Force equals mass times acceleration," he muttered, voice thick, his lips brushing against your ear as he pressed his body against yours.
You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Joel—"
"Shh," he murmured, his large hands gripping your waist, positioning you, as if this was nothing more than another physics demonstration. "You wanted to feel the equation, right?"
Your heart slammed against your ribs.
"Th-this isn't what I meant," you managed to stammer, though you both knew that was a lie.
Joel chuckled, a deep, knowing sound, his fingers trailing down your thighs. "Nah, sweetheart, I think it is."
He nudged your legs apart, his grip tightening, anchoring you in place.
"Acceleration," he murmured, pressing a little closer, the warmth of him sinking into your skin. "It’s the rate of change of velocity over time."
You swallowed hard. "O-okay…"
His fingers trailed along your jaw, tilting your face up to his. "So if I apply a constant force…" His hips shifted just slightly, making your breath catch. Joel positioned himself at your entrance "The acceleration increases. You feel that?"
You bit your lip, your entire body thrumming under his control.
"Yes," you whispered.
Joel hummed in approval, his breath warm against your cheek. "Good. Now, mass…" His hand traveled back down, gripping your thigh. "More mass means more resistance, right? Takes more force to move it."
He lifted you slightly, effortlessly adjusting you against the desk.
"And since you're the mass in this equation, I’ve gotta work a little harder, don’t I?"
Your breath stuttered.
You knew he wasn’t talking about physics anymore.
"Joel…"
He smirked, his fingers trailing back up, gripping your hips. "You wanted me to show you, darlin’. I’m just makin’ sure you learn somethin’ from it."
His voice dipped lower, raspier. "So tell me—what happens when you apply a force in one direction?"
Your head was spinning, body buzzing with anticipation. "It—" You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "It accelerates in that direction."
"That’s right." His hands tightened. "And what happens when there’s no opposing force to slow it down?"
You were breathless now, clinging to him as the tension stretched impossibly thin between you both.
"It… keeps going."
Joel’s lips brushed against your temple, a quiet hum of satisfaction rolling through his chest.
"Exactly."
And then—
He moved. Fitting his whole length inside you.
His hands, his force, his body—everything was calculated, precise, deliberate.
Physics had never felt like this before.
You gasped, gripping onto him, feeling every single application of the lesson in real time.
Joel groaned, his voice tight with restraint. "Now you’re gettin’ it."
You didn’t know if you were learning physics.
But you were definitely learning him.
Joel didn’t let up.
His grip on you was firm, steady, as if he was ensuring you wouldn’t slip through his fingers—not that you wanted to. Every breath you took felt heavier, filled with something charged, something that made the air between you almost unbearable.
“You remember Newton’s Third Law?” His voice was rough, edged with something dangerous, something that made your stomach tighten.
Your mind was spinning, barely able to process words as his hands grounded you against the desk.
“I—” You swallowed, your fingers gripping at his shirt.
Joel chuckled, dark and low, his lips just brushing against your ear. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction,” he murmured. “That means—”
Before you could even prepare, he moved, hips snapping faster, harder, pressing closer, his presence overwhelming.
You gasped, your body instinctively responding, pushing against him without even realizing it.
Joel smirked. “See? That’s reactionary force, darlin’.”
Your breath hitched. “J-Joel—”
“That’s how it works,” he continued, ignoring your attempt to ground yourself. “I push, you push back.” His hands tightened. “I apply force, you absorb it.”
Your stomach flipped. He was making you feel every word, every lesson, in ways that had absolutely nothing to do with physics anymore.
Joel leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “Now, let’s talk about friction.”
Oh, God.
You knew where this was going.
You weren’t even sure you could speak at this point, but Joel didn’t need your answer—he was already moving again, showing you exactly what he meant.
“Friction is resistance,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he demonstrated. “You feel that? The way two surfaces move against each other?”
You definitely felt it.
Your fingers dug into his arms, nails scraping against fabric as you struggled to keep up, to breathe.
“Too little friction,” he went on, his grip adjusting, “and there’s no control. But just the right amount?” His lips hovered over yours, teasing. “It keeps everything right where it needs to be.”
You whimpered, your body betraying you, arching into him before you could stop yourself.
Joel’s smirk deepened.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured.
Your head spun. Your heart pounded.
You weren’t sure if this was physics anymore or something else entirely, something much more dangerous.
And the worst part?
You didn’t care.
The air between you crackled, thick with unspoken words and undeniable tension, something electric that neither of you could ignore any longer. It surged between you, a live wire waiting for a spark, and Joel was the one holding the match.
He was everywhere—his hands gripping your waist, firm and possessive, fingertips pressing just enough to leave an imprint. His broad frame loomed over you, his presence suffocating in the best possible way. His scent, all musk and faint traces of leather and gun oil, curled around you like a second skin. There was no escaping him, no resisting the gravity that pulled you deeper into his orbit.
“You starting to get it now?” His voice was low, rough, each syllable a deliberate scrape against your fraying composure. The heat of his breath skimmed over your lips, teasing but never quite touching.
You nodded—frantically, desperately.
But that wasn’t enough for him.
“Use your words, sweetheart.” His grip tightened, his fingers digging in just enough to make your breath stutter. The force of him, the sheer dominance in his stance, made your pulse hammer. “Tell me what you learned.”
You swallowed hard, barely able to think beyond the way he felt, the way his body pressed into yours, caging you in like a predator who had finally cornered his prey.
“I—I learned that…” Your voice was shaky, uneven, your thoughts tangled in the suffocating heat of him. But he waited, unwavering, his dark eyes watching, demanding.
Joel wasn’t going to let you off that easy.
“…that every action has an equal and opposite reaction,” you finally whispered, your lips barely brushing his with each syllable.
His smirk was dangerous, a slow, knowing thing that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your waist flexed, the strength in his hands enough to remind you just how easily he could control this moment, could control you.
“Good girl.”
The praise hit like a physical force, a shudder rolling through your body as heat pooled low in your stomach. Your fingers curled into his shirt, clinging to the fabric as if it was the only thing tethering you to reality. You needed something to hold onto, something solid, because Joel Miller was unraveling you by the second.
He noticed.
Of course, he did.
And he loved it.
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, sending a fresh wave of heat down your spine. “Now, what happens when an object in motion stays in motion…” His hands adjusted, sliding lower, pulling you against him until there was no space left between your bodies. “…until acted upon by an external force?”
Your breath hitched, heart hammering against your ribs. He was the external force, the unstoppable force, the immovable object all in one. And you? You were caught in his gravitational pull, helpless to do anything but surrender.
“Joel—”
“That force…” His voice was a growl now, deeper, darker, filled with something that made your entire body thrum with anticipation. His fingers skimmed along your lower back, tracing slow, deliberate patterns before gripping you tighter. “That’s me.”
Your entire world tilted.
Joel moved deliberately, with calculated precision, pressing you firmly against the nearest surface—something solid, something unyielding, just like him. His hands roamed, mapping out every inch of you as if he had all the time in the world. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty, only an unrelenting purpose that made your skin burn with every touch.
His lips ghosted over your jaw, dragging down, teasing, testing. You felt the scrape of his stubble, the warmth of his breath, the lingering restraint that wouldn’t last much longer.
“You still with me, sweetheart?”
Your nails dug into his shirt, your head tilting to give him more, offering yourself up without a second thought. “Yes,” you breathed, voice barely more than a whimper.
Joel chuckled, low and satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”
And then he showed you exactly what happened when an object in motion met an unstoppable force.
The pace was relentless, the heat unbearable. His movements were precise, purposeful, dragging you to the very edge before pulling you right back in. Every sound, every sensation built up, coiling tight in your core until there was nowhere left to go but over.
His breath was ragged, his grip unyielding, his body against yours nothing short of devastating. You felt the tension snap all at once, a wave of heat crashing through you as his own release followed, a deep, shuddering groan breaking past his lips. The feeling of him—hot, pulsing, buried deep—was the final push you needed, sending you spiraling into oblivion.
Neither of you moved for a long moment, the air between you thick and heavy with everything that had just passed. His hands stayed firm on your body, his presence still anchoring you in place, as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
And neither were you.
Because there was no resistance left.
Not from you.
Not from him.
And you both knew it.
The air in the room was thick, heavy with the remnants of everything that had just happened.
Your breaths were still uneven as you slowly came back to yourself, your body still buzzing from the way Joel had taken you apart, piece by piece, like you were nothing more than a lesson he needed to teach—one he made damn sure you wouldn’t forget.
You swallowed hard, willing your legs to stop trembling as you steadied yourself on the desk.
Joel hadn’t moved much.
He was still standing there, broad frame looming, his gaze locked onto you with something dark and unreadable. His breathing was slower now, controlled, but the tension between you hadn’t dissipated.
Not one bit.
You knew this wasn’t over.
Not really.
There was something in the way he was watching you—something unfinished, something that told you this was only the beginning of whatever the hell this had become.
You exhaled shakily, running your hands over your rumpled skirt, attempting to fix yourself before finally forcing yourself to move.
Joel’s eyes followed you.
You made it to the door, your fingers just barely wrapping around the handle when his voice rumbled behind you—low, rough, dangerous.
"Let’s go over another lesson again sometime."
Your breath caught in your throat.
You turned just enough to meet his gaze, your pulse spiking all over again when you saw the way he was looking at you—like he wasn’t done with you.
Like this was far from over.
Your fingers tightened on the handle.
You knew you should leave. Walk away. Pretend like you hadn’t just let your professor turn a physics lesson into something else entirely.
But instead—
Instead, you smirked.
A slow, knowing, daring smirk.
And then you opened the door and walked out.
But as you disappeared down the hallway, your mind raced, your body still thrumming with the aftermath of his hands, his words, his control.
And one thought lingered in your mind:
You were definitely coming back for another lesson
I wish you would write a fic where...
Send me an anymous (or not) summary of the fic you wish I would write. (maybe I will write a tidbit)
Elastic Desires
Reed Richard’s x F!reader (One-Shot)
(Size Kink, Stretching, Overstimulation, SMUT)
You always knew Reed was special, but you never fully understood what that meant until tonight. Sure, you had imagined it—wondered what it would be like to be with someone whose body could adapt, stretch, mold, and shift to your every desire. But fantasies were nothing compared to reality.
And right now? Reality had you trembling beneath him, your body on fire as he explored every inch of you with the kind of methodical precision only a genius like him could achieve.
Reed hovered above you, his dark eyes gleaming with something between curiosity and raw hunger. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he admitted, his voice smooth, teasing. His fingers trailed down your stomach, his touch feather-light. “You, beneath me. Falling apart because of me.”
You gasped as his fingertips elongated, gliding down your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin with slow, deliberate strokes. He was everywhere at once—hands, fingers, lips—and it was too much and not enough all at once.
“Reed—” Your voice was shaky, needy.
He chuckled, stretching his hand until it wrapped around your wrist, pinning it gently above your head. “I want to take my time with you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss just below your ear, his lips warm, his breath hot. “But I also want to see how much you can handle.”
The moment you nodded, his fingers morphed—slender digits multiplying, teasing your entrance, circling your clit with slow, maddening precision. You gasped, arching into his touch, only to have another hand splay across your stomach, pressing you back down.
“Easy,” he murmured, lips curving into a smirk. “I want to feel every little reaction.”
And he did. His fingers stretched inside you, curling, twisting, hitting every spot at once. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt—waves of pleasure rolling through you, building faster, deeper, until you were clutching at his arms, nails digging into his skin.
“Reed, oh—fuck—”
His other hand wrapped gently around your throat, just enough pressure to make you shudder. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice full of praise. “I want to hear every sound you make for me.”
You were falling apart beneath him, completely at his mercy, and he knew it. He was relentless, fingers moving faster, stretching wider, coaxing you to the edge over and over—only to pull back at the last second, drawing a desperate whimper from your lips.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “I want to watch you break.”
You shivered as he shifted lower, replacing his fingers with something thicker, warmer—his tongue stretching, slipping inside, filling you in ways that shouldn’t be possible but felt so good you almost sobbed. His hands kept you still, his mouth working you apart, sending pleasure pulsing through every nerve in your body.
It was too much. It was perfect.
“Come for me,” he finally commanded, and with one final stretch, one final curl of his fingers and flick of his tongue, you shattered—your body tensing, pleasure crashing over you in waves.
Reed groaned as he felt you pulse around him, his grip tightening as he devoured every sound, every tremor. By the time you came down, breathless and shaking, he was smirking above you, brushing damp hair from your face.
“You okay?” he asked, teasing but still gentle.
You barely had the strength to glare at him. “You’re insane.”
He only chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips. “And we’re not even finished.”
You were wrecked—shaking, gasping, and already oversensitive from Reed’s fingers, tongue, and everything else his genius-level mind had conjured up to unravel you. But he wasn’t done.
Not even close.
Reed hovered above you, his dark eyes sharp with hunger as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning at your trembling form. “You’re handling me so well,” he murmured, voice full of pride. “But I think you can take more.”
You swallowed hard, barely able to form words. “Reed, I don’t—”
“Shhh.” He cupped your cheek, his hand stretching, fingers fanning out to cradle both sides of your face at once. “Let me take care of you.”
You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt it—the unmistakable press of his cock against your inner thigh. You hadn’t seen it yet, but you felt it.
And it was different.
Thicker. Heavier. Hotter.
You gasped, tilting your head back against the pillows as he dragged it along your soaked folds, teasing you, testing you. “Reed,” you whimpered, legs trembling. “That’s—”
“Big?” He smirked, pressing it against your entrance, just enough to make you feel the sheer size of him. “I adjusted it… just a little.”
“A little?” you gasped. “That’s not a little.”
He chuckled, bending to kiss you, slow and deep. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, his lips brushing yours. “I want to feel you stretch around me.”
You barely had time to prepare before he pushed in—not all the way, just the thick, swollen head—and already, you felt full.
“Oh, fuck—” Your head spun, your breath hitching as he inched in deeper, stretching you open in ways you’d never imagined.
He groaned, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to go slow. “God, you’re tight.” His hands slid to your hips, gripping you firmly as he rolled his hips, sinking another inch inside. “I can feel you clenching around me. Relax, baby.”
“Too big,” you gasped, nails digging into his arms. “Reed—”
“You can take it,” he assured you, stretching himself thinner for just a second to ease the pressure before letting himself expand again, pushing deeper, filling you more, more, more—until your walls stretched around him, accommodating his impossible size.
The burn was intense, a mix of pain and pleasure that had your body arching, thighs shaking. But then he moved, and your vision blurred with pleasure.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, voice thick with restraint. “You feel so good around me, baby. So tight.”
He gave you only a moment to adjust before he started moving—long, slow thrusts that dragged against every nerve inside you, stretching you in ways you didn’t know were possible. Every stroke was deep, deliberate, pushing into places no one ever had before.
And then he changed the angle.
“R-Reed—!” You screamed, your body tightening around him as he hit that spot—again and again and again—with pinpoint precision, his cock shifting, adjusting, thickening just to push against your most sensitive places.
“That’s it,” he groaned, watching you come apart. “Take it all.”
His arms stretched, wrapping around you, holding you still as he pounded into you, his control slipping as he grew thicker, longer, stuffing you so full you could barely breathe. Every thrust sent you higher, every stretch igniting another wave of pleasure that had your body trembling, climbing towards something devastating.
“Reed, I—”
“Come for me,” he growled, snapping his hips forward with one last, brutal thrust. “Scream for me.”
And you did.
Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing over you, leaving you breathless, shaking, clenching down so hard that Reed groaned, his own release following right after—his cock thickening one last time as he filled you, his body shuddering, his grip tightening around you as he buried himself deep.
The two of you lay there, panting, his body still molded around yours, cock still snug inside you.
Reed chuckled breathlessly, stroking your sweat-slicked skin. “See? You took it.”
You glared at him, barely able to think, let alone move. “I hate you.”
“Liar.” He smirked, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Think you can go again?”
Your body shuddered at the thought, and he only grinned.
“That’s what I thought.”
Whiskey & Wildflowers
Chapter 7
Prev | Next
W/C: 8k
Content Warnings (not in order lol): SA accusations, eventual smut, unprotected piv, angst, emotional distress, emotional vulnerability, complicated family dynamics, feelings of betrayal,
Summary: Over dinner, a casual conversation takes an unexpected turn, unraveling hidden truths and long-kept secrets that shift the course of your relationship forever. Yet, despite the hardships, securing your own apartment makes it all worth it.
“Dinner and Discovery”
Joel set the table with practiced ease, the scent of grilled chicken and roasted vegetables wafting through the house. You sat on the couch with Sarah, the TV murmuring in the background. It was her idea to have this dinner—a chance for everyone to talk and, as she put it, “clear the air.”
You weren’t entirely sure how much clearing could be done, especially with your dad on his way. Ever since his last confrontation at the door, things between you two had been icy, with only the occasional terse phone call. But Sarah insisted, and you couldn’t say no to her attempts at mending what was left of your fractured family dynamics.
When the knock came, Joel gave you a look—part reassuring, part hesitant—before heading to the door. Your dad stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the room. He glanced at Joel briefly, his expression guarded, before his eyes landed on you.
“Hey,” he said, his voice neutral.
“Hey,” you replied quietly, your hands fidgeting in your lap.
“Dinner’s just about ready,” Joel said, breaking the tension. He moved past your dad, carrying a platter to the table.
The four of you sat down, and for a while, the conversation was polite but strained. Sarah did her best to keep things light, asking about work and the weather, but the undercurrent of tension was impossible to ignore.
It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that your dad finally broke the pleasantries.
“So,” he said, setting his fork down and fixing Joel with a pointed look. “Are you planning to tell me what’s really going on here?”
Joel’s brow furrowed, his expression calm but wary. “Not sure I follow,” he replied evenly.
Your dad turned to you, his voice sharper now. “You’ve been staying here all this time, and now I’m starting to get why.” His gaze flicked back to Joel, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You’ve been messing around with my daughter, haven’t you?”
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Sarah froze, her eyes darting between you, Joel, and your dad. Your heart raced, your throat tightening as the room fell into a heavy silence.
Joel sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “I care about her,” he said simply, his voice calm but firm. “A lot.”
Your dad’s face reddened, his fist clenching around his napkin. “You care about her?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “She’s half your age, Joel. She’s my daughter.”
“Dad, stop,” you said, your voice shaking. “This isn’t—”
“This isn’t what?” he interrupted, turning to you. “You think this is okay? That this—” He gestured between you and Joel, his frustration boiling over. “—is normal?”
Joel straightened in his seat, his voice steady but with a hard edge. “What’s not normal is the way you left her to deal with everything on her own. She needed someone, and you weren’t there.”
Your dad slammed his hand on the table, his anger erupting. “You don’t get to talk to me about my daughter!”
“Then act like her dad,” Joel shot back, his voice cold. “Because from where I’m sittin’, you’ve done nothin’ but make her life harder.”
The tension was suffocating, the room thick with anger and unspoken pain. Sarah finally stood, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Enough!” she shouted, her eyes blazing. “All of you—just stop!”
Everyone froze, the weight of Sarah’s outburst silencing the room. She looked at you, her expression softening. “You deserve to be happy,” she said quietly. Then she turned to your dad. “And you… you need to figure out what’s more important—your pride or your daughter.”
The silence that followed was heavy but filled with the faintest glimmer of understanding. Your dad looked down, his shoulders slumping as the anger seemed to drain out of him.
“I’ll think about it,” he muttered finally, standing and grabbing his coat. Without another word, he walked out the door, leaving the house in a stunned quiet.
Joel placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you. “You alright, darlin’?” he asked softly.
You nodded, though your heart was still racing. “Yeah,” you whispered, glancing at Sarah. “Thanks for that.”
Sarah shrugged, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Somebody had to say it.”
The night ended with an uneasy peace, but it felt like a turning point—a moment where the pieces of your life, though still scattered, might finally start to come together.
The house was quiet, the only sound the faint ticking of the kitchen clock. You sat curled up on the couch, still replaying the tension-filled dinner in your mind, when the sharp ring of the landline phone jolted you out of your thoughts.
Joel, who had been sitting at the table, stood and grabbed the phone. "Miller residence," he said gruffly, his usual greeting.
You froze when his next words reached you.
"Yeah, it's me. What do you want, John?"
Your stomach dropped. Your dad.
Without thinking, you reached for the cordless phone on the coffee table, pressing the button to join the call. You held your breath, your heart pounding as you listened in.
"I can't stand you taking advantage of my daughter like this," your dad's voice growled through the receiver, sharp and full of venom. "She's young, vulnerable, and you... you've manipulated her. She should accuse you of rape."
The words hit you like a physical blow, tears welling in your eyes as your hand gripped the phone tightly. Your throat constricted, but you didn't make a sound, determined to hear what Joel would say.
There was a pause, the silence heavy and tense. Then Joel's voice came through, low and steady, though you could hear the anger simmering just beneath the surface.
"Careful, John," he said coldly. "You're throwin' around accusations you've got no right to make."
"No right?" your dad snapped. "You're twice her age, Joel! You think this is love? You think this is okay?"
"I think it's a hell of a lot better than what you've done for her," Joel shot back, his tone hardening. "You left her, John. She needed you, and you walked away. Don't you dare try to paint me as the bad guy when you're the one who failed her."
Your dad let out a bitter laugh, but it lacked conviction. "And you think you're her savior? You think this ends well? She's going to wake up one day and realize what a mistake this is."
Joel didn't respond immediately, his silence heavy with restraint. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter but no less firm.
"You don't get to decide what's a mistake for her," he said. "She's not a kid anymore, John. She's been through more than most people her age ever should, and she's come out stronger for it. If you can't see that, then that's on you."
You clutched the phone tighter, your tears streaming silently down your face.
Hearing Joel defend you so fiercely sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you-gratitude, anger, sadness-but you stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt.
There was a long pause on the line before your dad spoke again, his tone quieter, almost resigned. "This isn't over," he muttered.
Joel let out a bitter chuckle. "Didn't think it would be," he said. "But next time, you better come at me with more than baseless threats."
The line clicked, and the call ended. You quickly set the phone down, your hands trembling as you wiped at your tears.
Joel stood there for a moment, his shoulders tense as he placed the receiver back on the base. When he turned around and saw you sitting on the couch, your red-rimmed eyes gave you away.
"Darlin"" he said softly, his voice filled with concern as he approached. "You heard all that?"
You nodded, unable to speak as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. Joel sank down beside you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation.
You clung to him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek grounding you. His words were like a shield, blocking out the sharp sting of your father’s accusations. It was hard to imagine a time when you hadn’t needed Joel like this, when you hadn’t found comfort in his presence.
“He’s wrong,” Joel continued, his voice low but unwavering. “You know that, right?”
You nodded again, the pressure in your chest slowly easing. You knew. But that didn’t stop the ache of betrayal from twisting inside you. Your dad, the man who was supposed to protect you, was the one who had let you down. And now he was making it worse by trying to control your life from afar.
“I never should’ve let you hear that,” Joel said, his voice thick with regret. “But I won’t let him turn this into somethin’ it ain’t.”
You pulled away slightly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “He’s my dad, Joel. He’s supposed to care about me.”
Joel sighed, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looked you in the eyes. “He should, darlin’. But some people just ain’t built to protect. They tear down instead. And I’m here to make sure you don’t forget your worth. Don’t let him make you doubt it.”
You gave him a shaky smile, the warmth of his words settling over you like a soft blanket. It didn’t take away the sting of your dad’s words, but it reminded you that not everyone saw you as a mistake. Not everyone blamed you for your past.
“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice still hoarse from the weight of the conversation.
Joel gave you a small, comforting smile, though there was still a hardness in his eyes—a protective fire that only flared when it came to you. “Always, darlin’. Don’t forget that.”
The email came through late in the afternoon. You stared at it for a moment, your hands trembling as you read the words over and over:
Congratulations! Your application has been approved.
You’d done it. You’d managed to secure a bachelor apartment—a small, cozy space that was all yours. It wasn’t much, but it was a step forward, a step toward independence.
The first person you told was Joel.
“Hey, Joel!” you called, walking into the living room where he sat, flipping through the channels.
He looked up, his brows raising at your excited tone. “What’s goin’ on, darlin’?”
You held up your phone, the email still open on the screen. “I got the apartment!”
Joel’s face broke into a proud smile, his eyes lighting up. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said, standing to his feet. “Knew you’d get it.”
You couldn’t help but grin as he pulled you into a warm hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you. “They said having a solid reference sealed the deal,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “Thank you for that, Joel. I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”
Joel pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your shoulders. “You did the hard part, darlin’. I just told ‘em the truth—how hard you’ve been workin’, how far you’ve come. They’d be fools not to take you.”
His words made your chest swell with pride and gratitude. “Still,” you said softly, “I really appreciate it.”
The day you got your keys, Joel insisted on helping you move. Sarah tagged along too, offering to help carry boxes and lighten the mood with her usual sarcastic remarks.
The apartment was small—a double open space with a kitchenette tucked into one corner, a closet size bedroom that would only fit your bed, and a bathroom just off to the side. But as you looked around, standing in the middle of the empty room, it felt perfect. It was yours.
Joel carried the last box inside, setting it down carefully before straightening up. “Not bad,” he said, looking around with an approving nod. “You’re gonna make this place feel like home in no time.”
Sarah leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, it’s cute,” she admitted. “Way better than I expected.”
You laughed, shaking your head at her teasing. “Thanks, I think.”
Later That Evening
After Sarah left, it was just you and Joel, sitting on the floor of your new apartment. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow through the window, and the quiet hum of the city buzzed faintly in the background.
“Feels weird,” you admitted, leaning back against the wall. “Being on my own like this.”
Joel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Weird’s normal,” he said. “It’s a big change, but you’ve earned this, darlin’. You’re ready for it.”
You glanced over at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Joel shook his head, his lips quirking into a soft smile. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said. “This is just the start for you. You’ve got so much ahead of you.”
His words settled in your chest, filling you with a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time. As the evening stretched on, the small apartment began to feel more like home, with Joel’s steady presence reminding you that you weren’t truly alone—even as you stepped into this new chapter of your life.
Joel was gathering his things—his keys, his jacket—preparing to head back home. The sound of him moving around the apartment filled the quiet space, but your mind was elsewhere, the unmistakable weight of dread settling in your chest.
You didn’t want him to leave. Not yet.
“Wait,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Joel paused, his hand hovering over his jacket as he turned to look at you. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you tried to find the right words. “Stay tonight?” you asked softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray how vulnerable you felt.
Joel’s brows knitted together, concern flashing across his face. “You sure?” he asked, stepping closer. “You alright?”
You nodded quickly, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I just… I’m not ready to be here alone yet,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s stupid, I know, but—”
“It ain’t stupid,” Joel interrupted gently, his voice steady and reassuring. He set his jacket down and moved closer, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “It’s a big change. Nothin’ wrong with needin’ a little time to adjust.”
You let out a shaky breath, relieved by his understanding. “Thanks,” you murmured, glancing down.
Joel tilted your chin up with a finger, his gaze soft but firm. “You don’t gotta thank me, darlin’,” he said. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”
The tension in your chest eased, and you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Just tonight,” you said, though part of you already knew you’d want him to stay longer if he could.
Joel chuckled softly, pulling you into a brief, comforting hug. “Alright,” he said. “Guess I better make myself comfortable.”
That night, the two of you sat on a loveseat, sharing takeout and watching an old movie on your laptop. The space felt cozier with Joel there, his presence grounding you in a way nothing else could.
When it was time to sleep, Joel took the chair without hesitation, brushing off your attempts to offer him the bed. “I’ve had worse,” he said with a smirk, grabbing a pillow and settling in.
As you lay in bed, the quiet hum of the city outside mixing with the faint sound of Joel shifting on the couch, the dread that had gripped you earlier finally began to fade. You weren’t alone, not tonight—but you wanted him closer
Joel’s eyes snapped open at the sound of your voice, urgent and firm. He sat up quickly, his heart racing as he processed what you’d just said.
“Joel, get in here,” you called again, louder this time, your voice carrying a note of unease.
He was off the couch in an instant, striding toward your bedroom. Pushing the door open, he found you sitting up in bed, the dim light from the streetlamp outside casting soft shadows across your face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low but steady as he stepped closer.
You hesitated, your hands clutching the blanket tightly. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Joel’s posture softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took in your expression. Without a word, he walked over to the side of the bed, his presence calming and reassuring.
“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.
You nodded, but your grip on the blanket didn’t loosen. “I just… I feel weird, like something’s off. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Joel sighed softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You want me to stay in here?”
You nodded again, your eyes darting up to meet his. “Please.”
He didn’t hesitate, kicking off his boots and climbing into bed beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight as he settled next to you, his presence instantly grounding you.
“You’re safe, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I’m right here.”
You leaned into him, the warmth of his body chasing away the lingering unease. “Thanks” you whispered
He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arm tightening around you. “Always,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of a promise.
As the minutes passed, the tension in your chest began to ease, the steady rhythm of Joel’s breathing lulling you into a sense of calm. Whatever had been bothering you before no longer seemed so overwhelming with him by your side.
Joel’s eyes widened for a moment as you moved to straddle him, the soft weight of you settling on his lap. He blinked up at you, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Oh?” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smirk.
You placed your hands on his chest, your fingers splaying out over the soft fabric of his shirt. “You were so quick to comfort me,” you said softly, your tone teasing but laced with something deeper. “Maybe I should thank you properly.”
Joel’s hands instinctively moved to rest on your hips, his fingers pressing gently as if testing how far you were willing to go. “Darlin’, you sure about this?” His voice was low, gravelly, but there was no mistaking the heat behind his gaze as he looked up at you.
You tilted your head, your lips curving into a small smile. “I don’t know… you don’t look too upset about it.”
Joel chuckled, his grip tightening slightly on your hips. “Not upset, no. Just didn’t expect this when you called me in here.”
Your heart raced as you leaned down, your faces now mere inches apart. “Maybe you should learn to expect the unexpected with me,” you whispered, your breath ghosting over his lips.
Joel’s smirk faded, replaced by a look of pure hunger as his hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing just under the hem of your shirt. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered before closing the gap, capturing your lips in a kiss that was equal parts tender and desperate.
The heat between you intensified as your hands moved to his shoulders, gripping him as the kiss deepened. Joel’s hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless.
“Darlin’,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with desire, “you keep this up, and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, your lips swollen and your breath ragged. “Who said I wanted you to?”
Joel groaned, his head tilting back slightly as you started to grind into his lap, the friction igniting a fire between you. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding your movements as his darkened eyes found yours again.
"Jesus, darlin'," he rasped, his voice strained with desire. "You really know how to drive a man crazy, don’t you?"
A sly smile tugged at your lips as you leaned closer, your breath brushing against his ear. "Maybe that’s the plan," you whispered teasingly before biting down softly on his earlobe.
Joel let out a low growl, his grip on you tightening. "Careful, sweetheart," he warned, though his tone was more playful than serious. "You keep this up, and I’m not gonna hold back."
"Who’s asking you to?" you teased, rolling your hips a little more deliberately. The warmth radiating from him only made you more daring, more determined to see how far you could push him.
Joel’s hands slid under your shirt, his rough fingertips grazing over the soft skin of your back. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips.
"You’re playing a dangerous game," Joel murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he spoke. His hands slid higher, his touch igniting sparks of electricity everywhere he touched.
"And you’re loving every second of it," you replied, your voice breathy and full of confidence.
Joel chuckled low in his throat, his lips finally capturing yours again in a searing kiss that left no room for hesitation. He pulled you closer, his hands roaming and exploring as the tension between you continued to build.
Time seemed to stop as you lost yourselves in the moment, the world outside Joel’s house fading away entirely. It was just the two of you, tangled together in a mess of passion and yearning that neither of you wanted to end.
Joel's hands moved to your hips, gripping firmly but with care as he slowed your movements. His dark eyes locked onto yours, his expression a mix of admiration and barely contained desire.
“Easy now, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “Let me take care of you.”
His fingers guided you, creating a steady rhythm that made your head fall back as a soft gasp escaped your lips. He leaned in, pressing his lips to the curve of your neck, his beard lightly scraping your skin and adding to the delicious sensation spreading through you.
“You feel so good,” Joel murmured against your skin, his tone reverent as though he couldn’t believe you were here with him like this. His hands moved with purpose, shifting you slightly to deepen the friction between you two.
You whimpered at the change, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself as he set a rhythm that made your body ache for more. Joel’s lips trailed up to your jawline, his movements controlled and deliberate, leaving you breathless.
“Just like that,” he praised softly, his hands never faltering as he took charge of the moment. “You trust me, don’t you?”
You nodded, unable to form words as waves of pleasure coursed through you. Joel smiled against your skin, his lips capturing yours briefly before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.
“Good,” he said, his voice soft yet commanding. “’Cause I know exactly what you need.”
You reached for Joel’s belt, your fingers fumbling slightly as you worked it free. His breathing hitched, his gaze fixed on you, watching every move you made. Once his belt was undone, you slid his jeans and underwear down his hips, revealing him fully.
Joel groaned softly, his hands instinctively reaching for your waist to steady you as you sat back on his lap. His touch was firm, grounding you in the moment. You glanced up at him, your cheeks flushed as you took him in.
“Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice thick and low. “You sure about this?”
Instead of answering with words, you leaned in, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his lips. It was enough of an answer for Joel. His hands moved to your thighs, gripping gently as he helped guide you closer to him, your bodies fitting together effortlessly.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Joel muttered with a half-smile, his eyes dark with desire as he let his hands roam, leaving no doubt in your mind that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.
You shifted your hips deliberately, dragging yourself over Joel’s bare length, the friction sending shocks through both of you. His breath hitched, his fingers tightening on your thighs as he let out a low groan.
"Darlin’, you’re playing with fire," Joel muttered, his voice strained with need.
You couldn’t help the small, teasing smile that tugged at your lips. , moving your hips again, your clothes dampening with every pass.
Joel's jaw clenched, his self-control hanging by a thread. He tilted his head back slightly, trying to rein himself in, but the way you were grinding against him made it impossible. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place for a moment as he looked up at you, his eyes blazing.
"You keep this up, and I won’t be able to stop myself," he warned, his voice low and gravelly.
"Who said I want you to stop?" you whispered, leaning down to brush your lips against his, your movements never ceasing.
You reached down, trembling slightly as you pushed your panties to the side. Joel’s breath caught, his eyes locked on yours as you guided him to your entrance, the tip of him pressing against your warmth.
“Are you sure, baby?” Joel asked, his voice rough but tender. His hands gripped your hips, his restraint palpable, waiting for your answer.
You nodded, your lips parting as you whispered, “I’ve never been more sure.”
Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling every inch as he stretched and filled you. Joel let out a low, guttural groan, his hands tightening on your hips as he fought to stay still, letting you set the pace.
“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before opening to take you in. “You’re perfect.”
You bit your lip, overwhelmed by the sensation and the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. You rested your hands on his chest, steadying yourself as you began to move, slowly at first, savoring the way you fit together.
Joel’s hands slid up your sides, brushing the fabric of your shirt before cupping your face. “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice deep and full of emotion. “I want to see you.”
You met his gaze, your breath hitching as you moved together, the world outside fading until there was nothing but him.
Joel noticed the way your movements began to falter, your legs trembling slightly as you tried to keep the rhythm. He smirked softly, his hands moving to your waist.
"Let me take over, darlin'," he murmured, his voice laced with both tenderness and desire.
Before you could protest, Joel shifted his weight and flipped you onto your back with ease, settling himself between your legs. His strong hands guided your thighs apart as he hovered over you, his lips brushing against your forehead before he met your gaze.
"Just relax, I got you," he whispered.
He began to move, slow and deliberate at first, watching your reactions as he hit every spot perfectly. You clung to him, your hands grasping at his shoulders as a soft moan escaped your lips.
Joel grinned, his pace quickening slightly. "There we go," he muttered, leaning down to kiss along your neck. "Let me take care of you."
Joel’s pace grew rougher, more insistent, as he drove himself into you. His hands were firm on your hips, holding you steady as he met your movements with precision. The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, skin against skin, and Joel’s low, guttural moans that sent waves of heat through you.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a mixture of praise and desperation. “So damn perfect, takin’ me like this. You feel that? That’s all you.”
You couldn’t form words, only whimpers and gasps as the pleasure built inside you. Joel noticed every reaction, every shiver, and adjusted his angle until he found the spot that made your breath hitch. He smirked at the way your body tightened around him, completely at his mercy.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing down to your neck. “No one else could ever make me feel like this. You know that, don’t you?”
Your legs started to shake, the strain of keeping up with his relentless rhythm catching up to you. Joel noticed immediately, his hands sliding to the back of your thighs to lift you slightly, taking over.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice softer now, though his movements didn’t falter. “Let me take care of you.”
With that, he shifted, pressing you into the mattress and pinning your wrists above your head with one hand while his other hand gripped your thigh. His control was absolute, his pace wild and unrelenting, yet his gaze stayed locked on yours, filled with something deeper than just lust.
“You’re mine,” Joel growled, his words almost a plea as he buried himself deeper. “Every single part of you.”
Joel’s movements became erratic, his pace faltering as he edged closer to his release. His grip on your thigh tightened, and a low, guttural moan escaped his lips.
“D-darlin’,” he stammered, his voice rough and unsteady. “I—I’m so close, baby. You feel that? You feel what you do to me?”
His forehead pressed against yours, beads of sweat trailing down his temple as he struggled to hold back, wanting to draw out the moment for as long as possible. But the way your body clenched around him, the way you whispered his name like it was the only thing that mattered, pushed him to the edge.
“God, you’re so perfect,” he groaned, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he buried himself deeper. “I—I can’t—”
His breath hitched, and his body tensed as he finally let go, his release hitting him like a tidal wave. He moaned your name, his voice trembling as he spilled into you, holding you tightly as if anchoring himself in the overwhelming intensity of the moment.
Joel’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his head resting in the crook of your neck.
Joel ran a hand through his hair, pacing slightly as he muttered, “Fuck. I didn’t—” He cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he glanced at you, still catching your breath. His chest heaved, a mixture of satisfaction and concern etched across his face.
“Maybe you should go wash up,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, avoiding your eyes as he turned away. He rested his hands on the back of a nearby chair, his knuckles whitening as he gripped it.
You blinked at him, still dazed from the intensity of the moment, but his sudden shift in demeanor was like a bucket of cold water washing over you. “Joel,” you began, but he shook his head, his shoulders tense.
“Darlin’, I... I just— I wasn’t thinking,” he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration, mostly aimed at himself. “Go on, just... clean up, alright?”
There was a strange vulnerability in the way he stood there, shoulders hunched, and jaw clenched, like he was bracing himself for something. It was clear he wasn’t upset with you, but he was battling his own internal storm, the weight of what had just happened crashing down on him.
You sat up slowly, brushing your hair back as you tried to calm both yourself and him. “It’ll be fine, Joel,” you said softly. “I just had my period, so… it’s not like anything could happen.”
Joel stopped gripping the chair and turned to look at you, his brows knitted together in a mix of concern and relief. “You sure about that?” he asked cautiously, his deep voice laced with hesitation.
You nodded, offering a small smile. “I’m sure,” you reassured him. “Really, it’s okay.”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face as he shook his head. “Jesus, darlin’, you scared the hell outta me for a second there,” he admitted, his lips curving into a sheepish half-smile.
You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his reaction. “You’re so dramatic sometimes,” you teased, standing up and walking over to him.
Joel caught your wrist gently, pulling you closer. His eyes searched yours, softening as he spoke. “I’m just lookin’ out for you. You mean too much to me to mess this up.”
Your heart softened at his words, and you leaned in to kiss him lightly. “I know,” you whispered. “And I promise, we’re fine.”
Still, the two of you stood there for a moment longer, his arms wrapping protectively around you as if to shield you from anything and everything.
You felt his seed start dripping out and down your leg and that’s when you snapped back into reality. “God maybe I will take a bath or something” you laughed, hating the feeling
Joel chuckled softly, though his eyes followed you with concern as you shuffled toward the bathroom. “Go on, darlin’. Take your time. You deserve a little break.”
You turned back to look at him, your cheeks still flushed. “I think I’ll need to borrow some of your towels,” you teased lightly, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the moment.
He smirked, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. “Help yourself. Though if you need a hand with anything...”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “I think I can manage, Joel. Thanks.”
As you closed the door behind you and turned on the water, you took a deep breath. The feeling of his seed trailing down your leg had startled you back into the weight of the moment, but the warmth of his gaze and the safety you felt with him lingered.
Slipping into the tub, you allowed the hot water to soothe your muscles, trying to sort through the flood of emotions. Everything with Joel was so intense—exciting, comforting, and terrifying all at once. You leaned back against the edge, staring at the ceiling.
This was more than you’d ever imagined, and as much as it scared you, part of you didn’t want it to stop.
As you soaked in the steaming water, the realization hit you like a punch to the chest—you were starting to love him. Maybe you already did.
It was terrifying.
The thought of Joel—strong, steady, and complicated Joel—being the one who’d captured your heart was thrilling but also overwhelming. You weren’t sure when it had happened exactly. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room. Or how he always managed to say the right thing when you felt like everything was falling apart.
But loving him meant opening yourself up to the possibility of pain. What if this little bubble you’d created together popped? What if Joel didn’t feel the same way?
You wrapped your arms around your knees, resting your chin on them, and let out a shaky breath. Did he see this as something serious, or was it just…a comfort? A distraction?
The thought of losing him, or worse, realizing you’d imagined more than what was there, made your chest ache. You could already picture how much it would hurt if this ended—like losing a part of yourself you hadn’t realized you needed.
You closed your eyes, trying to push the thoughts away. For now, Joel was still there, waiting outside, probably with that soft, knowing look on his face. You wanted to believe he cared for you in the same way, but the not knowing—it was eating you alive.
And yet, you didn’t dare ask. Not yet. It felt too fragile, too soon, too much. Instead, you leaned back into the water and whispered into the empty room, “Please, don’t let this fall apart.”
Joel stood in the middle of your small apartment, his eyes drifting to the stack of unopened boxes in the corner. You’d only just moved in, and the space still felt cold and impersonal, like you hadn’t fully claimed it yet. He wanted to help, to do something that might make the place feel more like home for you.
But he hesitated.
The last thing he wanted was to invade your privacy or overstep. Unpacking someone else’s belongings felt…intimate. Too intimate, maybe, considering how new all of this was. But then again, hadn’t you already trusted him with so much?
He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the boxes again. A part of him thought you’d appreciate coming home to find the place a little cozier, a little more you. Maybe he could unpack just one or two—nothing too personal. Maybe just your books or a few decorations to liven up the empty shelves.
Still, he hesitated.
He could hear your laugh echoing faintly in his memory, the way you teased him when he’d gotten too comfortable or crossed some unspoken line. He didn’t want to risk ruining the delicate balance you’d both worked so hard to build.
Joel sighed, crossing his arms as he debated. Finally, he walked over to one of the boxes and sat down on the floor beside it, his fingers brushing over the taped seams. He wouldn’t open it—at least, not without your permission. But he’d wait. If you wanted his help, he’d be ready.
For now, he’d respect the space you’d carved out for yourself, even if every part of him itched to make it a little easier for you.
Joel knelt by the box, carefully slicing through the tape with his pocket knife. He wasn’t going to rifle through all your things—just the essentials. When he saw the baby pink bedding and darker pink comforter, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“This’ll do,” he murmured to himself, pulling the set out gently.
He moved to the bed, stripping the plain white sheets off the mattress. A slight twinge of embarrassment hit him when he thought about earlier—how you’d been together right there, tangled in those same sheets. He shook his head with a quiet chuckle, tossing them into a pile on the floor.
Joel spread the pink sheets over the mattress, tucking the corners neatly like he’d done a thousand times before for Sarah when she was little. The darker pink comforter followed, its weight settling over the bed like a finishing touch. It was soft, feminine, and undeniably you.
As he straightened out the bedding, his attention turned to the stuffed animals in the box. There was a small collection of them, each one with its own personality—worn, well-loved, and undeniably cherished. He hesitated for a moment, then arranged them at the top of the bed, lining them up against the headboard.
A little bunny with floppy ears went in the center, flanked by a scruffy bear and a cheerful-looking cat. Joel couldn’t help but smile at the sight, imagining the way your face would light up when you saw it.
By the time he was finished, the bed looked warm and inviting—a safe little sanctuary in your new home. Joel stood back, crossing his arms and admiring his handiwork.
“Hope you like it, darlin’,” he muttered softly to the empty room, his voice barely above a whisper.
With that, he stepped out to give you your space, leaving the freshly made bed and your familiar comforts waiting for you.
As you stepped out of the bathroom, the oversized T-shirt brushing against your legs, the sight of Joel standing by the door hit you like a punch to the gut. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, his jacket draped over one arm. The way he stood there—like he didn’t want to linger but couldn’t quite leave either—sent a dull ache through your chest.
Your breath caught, and you could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you sniffled them back, trying to keep your composure. Still, Joel caught your gaze, and his brows knit together in concern.
“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
You shook your head quickly, forcing a small smile. “Nothing. I just thought you were leaving.”
Joel frowned, his grip tightening on his jacket. “I wasn’t plannin’ on it. Not until I know you’re settled in.” His voice was gentle, but there was a weight to it, like he didn’t want you to think he was abandoning you.
“I’m fine,” you lied, though the slight quiver in your voice gave you away.
Joel stepped closer still, his eyes scanning your face. “You sure? You don’t seem fine.”
Your resolve cracked under his steady gaze, and a tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. “I don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “I guess... I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Joel set his jacket down on the small table by the door and reached out to cup your cheek, wiping away the tear with his thumb. “You won’t be, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Not if you don’t want me to go.”
The relief that washed over you was almost overwhelming. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment. “I don’t,” you whispered.
Joel let out a soft sigh, pulling you into his arms. “Then I’ll stay,” he promised, his voice steady and warm.
You clung to him for a moment, feeling the safety and comfort he brought with him. When you finally pulled back, Joel tilted his head toward your room. “Go take a look,” he said with a faint smile. “Got somethin’ ready for you.”
You stepped into the room and stopped short at the sight of the freshly made bed, the pink sheets and comforter neatly arranged, and your stuffed animals lined up at the headboard.
“You did this?” you asked, turning to Joel, who was leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a small smile.
“Figured you’d like somethin’ familiar,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. But you could see the care in every little detail, and it made your heart ache in the best way.
“Thank you,” you said softly, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed.
Joel nodded. “Anything for you, darlin’.”
You walked over to the bed and gently rearranged the stuffed animals, moving the cat plush to the middle of the lineup. Once satisfied, you turned back to Joel, a quick smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.
“Cat gets the center spot. Non-negotiable,” you said playfully, crossing your arms.
Joel raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint grin. “Is that so? Didn’t realize there was a hierarchy for these things.”
“There’s always a hierarchy,” you teased, patting the cat’s head like it was a royal decree. “The cat is the ruler, the others are just loyal subjects.”
Joel chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped further into the room. “I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t wanna mess up the chain of command next time.”
You laughed softly, feeling the tension in your chest from earlier beginning to fade. “You’re learning,” you said, sitting down on the bed and leaning back slightly, the smirk still lingering on your face.
Joel’s gaze softened as he watched you, his hands resting on his hips. “Looks better now,” he said, nodding toward the stuffed animals.
“Yeah, it does,” you agreed, though your eyes stayed on him instead of the bed. “Thanks, Joel... for everything.”
He gave a small nod, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he stepped closer and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Anytime, darlin’.”
Joel noticed the mock pout on your lips and couldn’t help but smirk. “You know,” he said with a teasing tone, “you’re good at pulling that off.”
You just gave him a little shrug, making sure your pout looked as exaggerated as possible. “Maybe I’m just really good at getting what I want.”
Joel raised an eyebrow, stepping a little closer. “Is that so?” His voice was low, almost a whisper as he leaned in just enough for your lips to nearly touch.
You tilted your head slightly, pushing the pout further. “Well, aren’t you going to kiss me?”
His expression softened, and with a smile, he closed the distance, brushing his lips against yours softly. The kiss lingered for a moment before he pulled back, his eyes searching yours.
“Better?” he asked, his voice almost amused, as though he had all the time in the world to make you wait for more.
Joel looked at you, his gaze soft yet intense, a quiet understanding passing between you two. His chest rose and fell with his breath, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. It felt like the world had slowed down, everything outside of this moment slipping away.
"You're... something else," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. He didn’t need to say more for you to know what he meant. The connection between you both was palpable, a mix of desire, affection, and the uncertainty that had been swirling between you both.
You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, unsure of the next step, but also knowing that whatever happened next, you didn’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.
You yawned and started walking towards your bed, one hand holding Joel’s and bringing him to the bed as well.. “cuddle me?”
Joel smiled softly, his fingers gently intertwining with yours as you pulled him toward the bed. “Of course,” he murmured, his voice warm and reassuring.
He followed you to the edge of the bed, leaning down to remove his shoes and shirt before slipping under the covers beside you. The warmth of the sheets, combined with the quiet intimacy of the moment, felt comforting, like everything was right where it should be.
He pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, holding you against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against you, grounding you in the peaceful silence. The tension of the day seemed to melt away as you nestled into him, your head resting against his chest.
“You’re safe here,” Joel whispered softly, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back as you both settled in for the night.
You let out a content sigh, closing your eyes as the rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a sense of calm. "Thank you," you whispered back, a smile tugging at your lips as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, his warmth surrounding you like a protective cocoon.
Joel lay there, his fingers still gently stroking your hair as he thought about what he’d just heard. It sounded like you whispered “I love you,” but his mind raced, unsure if he had truly heard it or if it was just his own feelings playing tricks on him. He smiled softly to himself, his heart full, but he didn’t bring it up. Maybe you weren’t ready to say it yet, or maybe you were just lost in the moment.
He couldn’t deny it, though—he loved you too. He felt it deep down, a kind of certainty that he hadn’t felt in years. You had come into his life when he least expected it, and now, he couldn’t imagine it without you. He just hoped that when the time was right, you’d both be able to say those words out loud, without fear.
For now, though, he was content to just hold you, feeling you close, and savoring the quiet peace of the moment.
Whiskey & Wildflowers
Chapter 7
Prev | Next
W/C: 9k
Content Warnings: not really any warnings tbh
Summary: you confronted your father’s manipulative behavior, solidifying your need for independence. With Joel’s unwavering support, you began to reclaim control, securing and balancing work, though the weight of your past still lingered.
“Turning Points”
The early morning sun filters through the guest room window as you get ready for work. Your new routine feels both grounding and exhausting, the days blending into a rhythm you’re slowly adapting to. Joel’s truck is already idling in the driveway when you step outside, your bag slung over your shoulder. He leans against the driver’s side door, watching you with a soft smile.
“Ready?” he asks, holding the door open for you as you climb in.
The drive to work is quiet but comfortable, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. Joel glances over now and then, his concern evident in the way his brows knit together. You’ve been working hard to find balance, but it’s clear to him that the weight of everything is catching up with you.
“You’ve been lookin’ tired lately,” he says finally, breaking the silence. His voice is gentle, but it carries a note of worry.
You let out a small laugh, leaning your head against the window. “Guess that’s what happens when you try to put your life back together.”
Joel doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, his fingers tap against the steering wheel, like he’s debating what to say. “You know, you don’t have to do it all on your own,” he says, glancing at you briefly. “You’ve got people who care about you.”
The words sink in, and you nod, grateful but unsure how to respond. Before you can overthink it, he pulls into the parking lot of your office.
“Thanks for the ride,” you say, reaching for the door handle.
Joel leans over, placing a warm hand on your knee. “Take it easy today, alright?”
His touch lingers for a moment longer than necessary, and your heart skips a beat. You nod, cheeks warming, before stepping out of the truck.
That evening, back at the house, you’re sitting on the couch with Sarah, playing a game together. The tension between you has eased somewhat, but there’s still an unspoken undercurrent that makes the air feel heavy.
“So, you and my dad have been spending a lot of time together,” Sarah says casually, her eyes focused on the screen.
You stiffen, the controller slipping slightly in your grip. “He’s just been helping me out,” you reply, keeping your tone light.
Sarah glances at you, her expression unreadable. “Right,” she says, drawing out the word. “Just… don’t make it weird, okay?”
Her words linger in the air, and you’re left wondering how much she suspects.
-
Later that night, as you’re getting ready for bed, your phone buzzes. The screen lights up with your dad’s name, and your stomach twists. You hesitate, debating whether to answer. Finally, you swipe to pick up.
“Hey,” his voice comes through, quieter than you expected. “Been a while.”
You stay silent, the tension tightening in your chest.
“I, uh… I’ve been thinking,” he continues. “About what you said. About everything. Maybe we should talk. In person.”
The suggestion sends a jolt through you. Part of you wants to hang up, to avoid reopening the wounds. But another part—the part still aching for some kind of closure—leans toward saying yes.
“I don’t know,” you finally say, your voice trembling. “I need time to think about it.”
“Fair enough,” he replies, his tone unreadable. “You know where to find me.”
When the call ends, you sit on the edge of the bed, your emotions swirling. The silence of the house feels oppressive, and you can’t shake the heaviness in your chest.
A knock at the door startles you, and Joel’s voice comes through softly. “You alright?”
You open the door to find him standing there, his concern etched into his face. Without thinking, you step closer, leaning into him. His arms wrap around you without hesitation, holding you tight.
“I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice steady. “Whenever you’re ready to talk.”
The night stretches on, but in Joel’s embrace, you find a sliver of peace—just enough to face whatever comes next.
- next day
Joel watches you closely over breakfast, his concern evident in the way his eyes linger on your every movement. You’re barely touching the scrambled eggs he made, your focus already on the workday ahead. The circles under your eyes are darker than they’ve been in days, and it’s clear to him that you’re running on fumes.
“You’re working too hard,” he says finally, his voice gentle but firm.
You glance up from your half-empty plate, surprised by his tone. “I’m fine,” you reply, though the exhaustion in your voice betrays you. “It’s just…a lot right now. I’ll get used to it.”
Joel sets his coffee mug down with a quiet clink, leaning forward slightly. “Darlin’, you’ve been burnin’ the candle at both ends since you started that job. You’ve barely had a moment to breathe.”
You sigh, brushing him off with a wave of your hand. “It’s just how it is, Joel. I need this job to feel like I’m doing something—anything—to move forward.”
Joel’s jaw tightens, his frustration simmering just below the surface. He doesn’t want to push too hard, but he can’t ignore the way you’re running yourself into the ground. “I get that,” he says, his tone softening. “But movin’ forward doesn’t mean wearin’ yourself out.”
The tension between you lingers as you finish breakfast in silence. When you stand to grab your bag, Joel rises too, stopping you at the door with a hand on your arm.
“Let me drive you today,” he offers, his eyes searching yours.
You hesitate, tempted to refuse, but the exhaustion weighing down your body makes you nod. “Okay,” you murmur, letting him take the keys from the hook.
In the truck, Joel glances over at you as you stare out the window, your thoughts clearly far away. “You ever think about takin’ a day off?” he asks, his voice light but pointed.
You shake your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “I can’t afford to. Not yet.”
Joel hums in response, his grip tightening on the wheel. He doesn’t press the issue further, but the silence between you feels heavy with things left unsaid.
That evening, Joel finds you sitting at the kitchen table, your shoulders slumped as you scroll through your phone. He sets a glass of water in front of you, then takes the seat across from you, folding his hands on the table.
“Alright,” he says, breaking the silence. “We need to talk about this.”
You look up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “About what?”
“About you runnin’ yourself into the ground,” he says, his tone firmer now. “You can’t keep this pace up, darlin’. It’s not healthy.”
You let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing your temples. “Joel, I’m fine. I don’t need a lecture right now.”
His expression softens, but he doesn’t back down. “I’m not lecturin’,” he says gently. “I’m worried about you. You’re workin’ too hard, barely eatin’, barely sleepin’… You need to take care of yourself.”
The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You want to argue, to tell him you’re fine, but deep down, you know he’s right.
“I just don’t want to feel useless,” you admit quietly, your voice trembling.
Joel reaches across the table, covering your hand with his. “You’re not useless,” he says firmly. “Not to me. Not to anyone.”
You swallow hard, blinking back tears as his words sink in.
“Take a day,” he continues, his tone softening. “Just one. Rest. Do somethin’ for yourself. The work’ll still be there when you get back.”
After a long moment, you nod, the weight of your exhaustion finally catching up to you. “Okay,” you whisper.
Joel squeezes your hand, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Good. You’ve earned it, darlin’.”
And for the first time in weeks, you allow yourself to believe him.
-
The next morning, you sit on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, debating for far too long before finally dialing the office. Your stomach churns with guilt as you explain to your boss that you need the day off, keeping your voice steady even though every word feels like a tiny betrayal of responsibility.
When the call ends, you let out a shaky breath and lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. For a brief moment, you feel relief—no rushing to get ready, no endless to-do list waiting at your desk. But almost immediately, that relief gives way to unease.
Should I have done that? Will they think I’m unreliable? What if I lose this job?
The questions loop in your mind as the hours crawl by. You try to distract yourself with small tasks—making the bed, organizing the guest room, even folding Joel’s clean laundry—but the guilt follows you everywhere.
Joel finds you in the kitchen around noon, aimlessly tidying the counters that are already spotless. He leans against the doorframe, watching you for a moment before speaking.
“Thought you were takin’ the day to rest,” he says, his tone light but with a hint of concern.
You glance over your shoulder at him, shrugging. “I’m just… keeping busy.”
He steps closer, crossing his arms as he studies you. “You feelin’ guilty?” he asks, reading you like an open book.
You hesitate, then sigh, setting the rag down. “Maybe a little,” you admit. “I keep wondering if I made a mistake, if calling in was even worth it.”
Joel shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Darlin’, takin’ care of yourself ain’t a mistake.” He places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “The world won’t stop spinnin’ just ’cause you took one day to catch your breath.
You look up at him, the warmth in his eyes softening some of the tension in your chest. “I just don’t want to mess this up,” you murmur.
“You’re not messin’ anything up,” he says firmly. “You’re workin’ hard, you’re doin’ your best. One day ain’t gonna change that.”
His reassurance doesn’t completely erase your guilt, but it helps. You nod, leaning into his touch as he pulls you into a quick, comforting hug.
By late afternoon, you find yourself on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, a cup of tea in hand. Joel sits in his recliner, a book in his lap, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure you’re not overthinking things again.
Sarah pops her head in at one point, holding up a controller. “Wanna play something?” she asks, a rare smile tugging at her lips.
You smile back, nodding. “Sure.”
For the first time all day, you feel a little lighter. As the hours pass, the guilt begins to fade, replaced by a small sense of gratitude—for Joel, for Sarah, and for the reminder that it’s okay to slow down every once in a while.
You and Sarah spent the evening playing Mario Party, and you’re genuinely surprised your friendship survived the competitive chaos. By the time the game ended, it was late, and Sarah reminded you she had to get up early for work the next morning. She said her goodnights to both you and Joel before heading off to her room.
Joel got up shortly after, making his way to the kitchen to fetch himself a glass of whiskey. As he poured, he called out, “You want anything?”
Without thinking, you shouted back, “Yeah, could you top up my sleepy time tea?”
Joel chuckled softly, the sound carrying from the kitchen. “Got it,” he replied, already reaching for the kettle.
Joel returned from the kitchen, a steaming mug of tea in one hand and his glass of whiskey in the other. He set the mug down in front of you with a soft smile. “Here ya go, sweetie,” he said warmly, his voice low and familiar.
You glanced up briefly, offering a quiet, “Thanks,” before turning your attention back to your phone, already engrossed in whatever had captured your focus. Joel watched you for a moment, his gaze lingering. There was a tenderness in his expression, as if seeing you so relaxed in his home brought him a quiet kind of joy.
He settled back into his chair, sipping his whiskey and letting the comfortable silence stretch between you, the soft hum of the evening wrapping around the both of you like a shared understanding.
Joel shifted in his seat, swirling the whiskey in his glass, clearly a little unsure of himself. “You wanna… uh, watch a movie or somethin’?” he asked, his tone casual but tinged with awkwardness.
You looked up from your phone, raising an eyebrow as a smirk slowly spread across your face. “Do you want to watch a movie?” you teased, your voice light but playful.
Joel’s cheeks reddened slightly, and he glanced away for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… yeah, if you’re up for it,” he muttered, clearly trying to play it cool.
You leaned back in your seat, pretending to consider it. “Well, I guess I could be persuaded,” you said with a grin. “What are we watching, Mr. Miller?”
Joel rolled his eyes at your teasing, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” he replied, getting up to browse through the options.
The playful energy between you felt easy and warm, and as Joel settled back onto the couch with the remote in hand, you couldn’t help but feel a little thrill of anticipation—whether from the movie or just the company, you weren’t quite sure.
Joel settled beside you on the couch, your knees brushing against each other as he leaned slightly forward, the remote in his free hand. His other hand rested lightly on your inner thigh, his touch warm and grounding. He scrolled through the movie options on Netflix, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration.
You glanced over at him, a soft smile playing on your lips as you watched him navigate the endless choices. Moments like these felt so simple yet so meaningful—no words needed, just the quiet comfort of his presence.
He didn’t seem to notice your lingering gaze, too focused on debating between a classic thriller or something lighthearted. But the way his hand stayed where it was, casually possessive yet gentle, made your chest tighten with a kind of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time.
“See anything good yet?” you asked softly, breaking the silence.
Joel turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes with a faint smirk. “Not yet. Unless you’re in the mood for somethin’ cheesy,” he teased, the corner of his mouth twitching.
You chuckled, leaning closer until your shoulder brushed against his. “Cheesy’s fine,” you replied. “As long as you don’t fall asleep halfway through.”
“Me?” Joel scoffed, mock-offended. “Darlin’, I’m the one keepin’ you awake most nights.”
The warmth in his voice made you laugh, and the sound of it filled the room, adding to the perfection of the moment. It wasn’t about the movie; it was about this—him. Moments like these were worth more than you could ever put into words.
Joel eventually settled on a movie, a lighthearted romantic comedy, muttering something about "not too serious" as he hit play. The opening credits rolled, and the soft glow of the TV illuminated the room, casting shadows that danced across the walls.
His hand stayed on your thigh, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small, soothing circles. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of your leggings, and though the movie was playing, you found it hard to focus on anything but him.
You leaned back, letting yourself relax into the couch, your shoulder pressing lightly against his. Joel glanced at you, catching the faint smile lingering on your lips, and he couldn't help but smile back.
"You alright?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah," you replied, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking back at the screen. "This is nice."
Joel nodded, his own smile softening.
"Yeah," he murmured. "It is."
As the movie played on, the room filled with the sounds of laughter and dialogue, but the real magic was in the quiet moments between you. Joel's fingers occasionally flexed against your thigh, a gentle reminder of his presence, while you let your head rest on his shoulder without a second thought.
Halfway through the movie, Joel's hand slid slightly, his fingers brushing higher on your thigh. It was subtle, unspoken, but it sent a rush of warmth through you that you couldn't ignore. You tilted your head to look up at him, and he turned toward you, his eyes locking onto yours.
The TV screen flickered in the background, but the world around you seemed to pause. Neither of you spoke, but the unspoken question lingered in the air between you, electrified by the closeness.
Moments like these weren't just great— they were everything. And as Joel leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tender, lingering kiss, you realized that these quiet, stolen moments were the ones that would stay with you forever.
Joel's kiss deepened, his hand moving just a bit higher on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles that made your breath hitch. His lips were warm and insistent, the quiet hunger in the way he kissed you sending a pleasant shiver through your body. You let yourself melt into him for a moment, fingers curling into his shirt as his other hand brushed lightly against your waist.
But just as the heat started to build, you gently pushed against his chest, pulling back. Joel's eyes flickered with a mix of concern and frustration as he searched your face. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
You smirked, still catching your breath, and leaned back into the couch, looking up at him with playful amusement.
"Nothing's wrong," you teased, a sly grin spreading across your lips. "I'm just too tired to deal with you acting like a horny teenager right now."
Joel raised an eyebrow, a flush creeping up his neck. "Horny teenager?" he repeated, a touch of indignation in his voice. "Darlin, I'm just-"
"You're just proving my point," you interrupted, laughing softly as you poked his chest. "And don't think I didn't notice your hand creeping up my leg."
He chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back, dragging a hand through his hair. "You're somethin' else, you know that?" he muttered, though the corner of his mouth quirked in a smile.
You grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him, your laughter bubbling up again.
"Yeah, well, you'll survive," you teased, curling your legs up onto the couch and leaning back into the armrest. "I'm going to bed before you start trying anything else."
Joel caught the pillow with ease, tossing it back onto the couch. "Alright, alright," he said with a mock sigh, standing up and grabbing his whiskey. "Guess I'll let you off the hook-for now."
You rolled your eyes, grinning as you stood and headed toward the guest room. "Goodnight, Mr. Miller," you teased over your shoulder, your tone dripping with mock formality.
"Goodnight, trouble," Joel called after you, his voice tinged with warmth and amusement.
As you closed the door to the guest room, your heart still raced from the moment you shared, but the playful banter made it all the more special.
Moments like these weren't just steamy
—they were comfortable, familiar, and full of the quiet joy that made everything feel right.
——•
The dream had come out of nowhere, vivid and relentless.
You were back in your childhood home, the walls closing in around you, the air thick with tension. Your dad stood in the kitchen, his voice sharp and cutting, accusing you of things you didn’t even understand. The hurt in his eyes felt real, and his words stung in a way you hadn’t felt in years.
Then, like a flicker of light, your mom appeared, her presence comforting at first. But she wasn’t the warm, safe figure you remembered—her face was cold, distant, as though she blamed you for something you couldn’t place. She turned away, fading into the shadows, leaving you alone with your dad’s voice echoing in the house.
Suddenly, Joel was there. He wasn’t the Joel you knew—the one who made you feel safe and cared for. This Joel was different. His eyes were hard, his voice filled with a sternness that cut through you. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his tone distant and unfamiliar. “You don’t belong here.”
The weight of their words pressed down on you, the three of them circling like shadows in your mind. The walls of the house closed in tighter, the air becoming suffocating. You tried to scream, to defend yourself, but no sound came out.
When you woke up, your chest was heaving, your hands trembling as you clutched the blanket. Your heart pounded so hard it echoed in your ears, and for a moment, you weren’t sure where you were. The vividness of the dream lingered, the emotions raw and real as though you were still trapped in it.
Your gaze darted around the dark room, the faint outline of the furniture reminding you that you were in Joel’s guest room, not your childhood home. But it didn’t stop the shaking or the tears that pricked your eyes.
You sat up, wrapping your arms around yourself, trying to ground yourself in reality. The dream felt too real, too heavy, and the weight of it pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You swallowed hard, your throat dry, and reached for the glass of water on the bedside table.
The cool liquid did little to calm you. The images of your dad, your mom, and Joel still swirled in your mind, their voices echoing faintly in the back of your head. The ache of their disappointment, their distance, their coldness—it lingered like a ghost in the room.
You debated getting up, wondering if Joel was still awake. Part of you didn’t want to bother him, didn’t want to burden him with your fears and anxieties. But the thought of staying in the dark room, alone with the echoes of the nightmare, felt unbearable.
You swung your legs over the side of the bed, taking a shaky breath as you tried to steady yourself. Maybe Joel would understand. He always did. And right now, you needed that comfort more than anything.
t he trembling in your body refusing to subside as you stood. The cold floor beneath your feet sent a shiver through you, but it wasn’t enough to shake the lingering dread. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you opened the door to the hallway, your breath shallow as you stepped into the faint glow of the nightlight near the stairs.
Joel’s room was just down the hall. Each step toward it felt heavier, like you were wading through the thick fog of your nightmare. When you reached his door, slightly ajar, you stopped, gripping the frame tightly.
Through the small gap, you could see him. Joel was lying on his side, the blankets pulled up to his chest, his breaths slow and even. The soft rise and fall of his body told you he was deeply asleep.
You stood there for a moment, your hands curling into fists at your sides. You wanted to knock, to call his name, to do something to close the gap between you and the safety he always seemed to bring. But something held you back. Maybe it was guilt, the fear of waking him for what you thought might seem trivial.
Your breathing hitched as the images from your dream flickered in your mind again—your dad’s anger, your mom’s coldness, Joel’s cruel words. You knew they weren’t real, but the way they clung to you, heavy and suffocating, made it hard to convince yourself.
Joel stirred slightly, his arm shifting as he adjusted in his sleep, the quiet sound pulling you back to the present. You exhaled shakily, wiping at your damp cheeks. Part of you wanted to turn back, to retreat to the guest room and let him rest. But another part—the part still trembling, still craving comfort—kept you rooted in place.
You swallowed hard, taking a hesitant step closer. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you called out, “Joel?”
No response. His breathing stayed steady, undisturbed.
You hesitated again, your fist hovering near the doorframe as you debated knocking. The silence pressed in around you, the faint creak of the house settling only amplifying the loudness of your own thoughts.
Finally, your resolve faltered. “Joel,” you whispered again, slightly louder this time, your voice cracking. The vulnerability in that single word hung in the air, waiting for him to wake—or for you to walk away.
Your hesitation melted away as you took a step closer, the trembling in your hands still present but quieter now. You gently pushed the door open, careful not to make a sound, and slipped inside. Joel’s steady breathing filled the room, a soft and rhythmic sound that grounded you as much as it pulled you forward.
Without a word, you lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped into the bed beside him. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight, and for a moment, you held your breath, worried you might wake him. But Joel didn’t stir.
You curled up at his side, your head resting just shy of his shoulder. The warmth radiating from his body immediately began to chase away the cold that had seeped into you since waking. The faint scent of him—familiar and comforting—wrapped around you, and for the first time since that awful dream, you felt yourself begin to relax.
Your hand tentatively brushed against his arm, needing the contact, and you let out a shaky breath. The weight of his presence, solid and reassuring, was all you needed in that moment. The vivid edges of the nightmare started to blur, its grip on you loosening with every beat of Joel’s steady heart.
A small sound escaped your lips—part relief, part exhaustion—as you pressed closer to him. The tension in your body drained away, replaced by a quiet calm you hadn’t felt in hours.
Joel shifted slightly in his sleep, his arm brushing against yours, but he didn’t wake. You allowed yourself to close your eyes, the warmth of him grounding you completely.
The echoes of the dream lingered faintly in the background, but here, with Joel’s body beside yours, the fear no longer felt insurmountable. You let out one last deep sigh before sleep began to tug at you once more, pulling you under into a far gentler darkness.
Joel stirred in the middle of the night, the faint pressure of something—or someone—against him pulling him out of sleep. His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains. He felt your small frame curled into his side, your head resting lightly on his chest.
For a moment, he simply stared down at you, his brow furrowing in concern. What’s she doing here? he wondered. You hadn’t mentioned anything earlier that evening that suggested something was wrong, but the sight of you nestled so closely to him made his chest tighten with a mix of emotions—concern, protectiveness, and something far softer.
Joel’s gaze softened as he took in your peaceful expression, your face relaxed in a way that suggested sleep had finally brought you some relief. He noticed the faint traces of dried tears on your cheeks and frowned, the worry deepening. What’s got you so shaken, darlin’?
He considered waking you, asking why you were here, but the idea of disturbing you felt wrong. You looked too peaceful, too vulnerable, and he didn’t have the heart to pull you out of whatever comfort you’d found in being close to him.
Instead, Joel shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, and wrapped his arms around you. His hand rested gently on your back, his touch warm and steady as he pulled you closer against him. The faintest sigh escaped your lips, your body instinctively pressing further into his, and he felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite name—relief, maybe, that you trusted him enough to seek him out like this.
“It’s alright,” he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible. “I’ve got you.”
As he lay there, holding you, Joel’s mind wandered. He couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at the back of his mind, wondering what had driven you to his room in the middle of the night. But for now, he decided, the answers could wait. Whatever it was, he’d make sure you felt safe—whether that meant holding you like this or waiting until you were ready to talk.
His thumb traced absentminded circles on your back as he rested his head against the pillow again. The steady rhythm of your breathing lulled him back toward sleep, the warmth of your body grounding him just as much as his was grounding you. Whatever had brought you here, Joel knew one thing for sure: he wasn’t letting go.
——
Joel woke up to the faint light of the early morning filtering through the curtains. He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the haze of sleep, only to realize he was teetering on the very edge of the mattress.
Glancing over, he saw you sprawled across the bed, your limbs splayed out in every direction. One of your arms draped over his chest, while your leg had somehow managed to pin down most of the blanket. You looked utterly peaceful, your face relaxed in a way that made him chuckle quietly.
“Really takin’ over, aren’t ya?” he murmured under his breath, amused as he shifted slightly to relieve the cramp forming in his back.
Joel propped himself up on one elbow, careful not to disturb you as he took in the scene. The once neat bed was now a mess, the pillows scattered and the blanket barely covering either of you. Despite the chaos, he found himself smiling, a warmth spreading through his chest.
He leaned back slightly, shaking his head in amusement. She could’ve stayed in the guest room, he thought, but there wasn’t an ounce of regret in his mind. Having you here, even if it meant sacrificing his own space, felt right.
Joel let out a soft sigh, debating whether to get up or let you keep sleeping. In the end, he stayed put, propping his head on his hand as he watched you for a moment longer. The sight of you so relaxed, even after what must’ve been a rough night, eased some of the worry still lingering from the previous evening.
“Guess I’ll just take what’s left of the bed,” he muttered with a smirk, shifting carefully to avoid falling off entirely. He reached over to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and unintrusive.
With that, he settled back onto his small sliver of the mattress, content to let you sleep a little longer. Whatever had driven you to his room last night, he’d wait until you were ready to talk about it. For now, he was happy just to be here, sharing the morning with you in this quiet, unguarded moment.
You stirred awake, the soft light of the morning casting a warm glow in the room. Stretching slightly, you noticed something unusual—the bed felt strangely vast, like you had all the space in the world. That’s when it hit you: you were sprawled across almost the entire mattress.
Your eyes widened as you quickly shifted, pulling your limbs back to your side of the bed. Embarrassment surged through you, and you adjusted the blanket awkwardly, trying to act as though nothing had happened.
Glancing to your side, you saw Joel lying there, staring at the ceiling with a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. The sight of him—his messy hair, his relaxed expression—only made the heat rise to your cheeks.
When he turned his head to look at you, catching your flustered gaze, his smirk deepened. “Mornin’,” he said, his voice low and warm, carrying a hint of teasing.
You swallowed hard, trying to muster some sort of coherent response. “Uh, morning,” you stammered, your voice still thick with sleep.
Joel raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. “Comfortable, were you?” he asked, a glimmer of amusement in his tone as his eyes flicked to the now-disheveled blanket.
You buried your face in your hands, groaning softly. “I didn’t mean to take up the whole bed,” you mumbled, peeking at him through your fingers.
Joel chuckled, the sound rich and deep. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” he said, shaking his head. “I managed.”
Despite his reassurance, you still felt a mix of guilt and embarrassment. “You should’ve woken me up or something,” you murmured, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.
“Nah,” Joel replied, leaning back against the headboard. “You looked too peaceful. Didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
His words sent a small flutter through your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile, despite your embarrassment. “Still,” you muttered, glancing down at the rumpled sheets. “I’ll stay on my side next time.”
Joel’s smirk softened into a smile as he shook his head again. “You’re fine,” he said gently. “Besides, you keep things interestin’. Can’t say I’ve ever woken up clingin’ to the edge of the bed like that.”
You laughed despite yourself, the tension easing as his lightheartedness made you feel less self-conscious. Whatever awkwardness lingered from the moment quickly melted away, replaced by the easy warmth that always seemed to settle between you and Joel.
The morning passed lazily after Sarah left for work, her goodbye quick and casual as she grabbed her keys and headed out the door. The house was quiet, just the two of you lingering in the kitchen as sunlight spilled through the windows. Joel leaned against the counter, nursing his second cup of coffee while you fiddled with the toaster, trying to coax it into browning the bread just right.
"Y'know, you don't have to babysit it," Joel teased, watching you with a crooked smile.
You shot him a playful glare. "And you don't have to drink half a pot of coffee before noon."
Joel chuckled, shaking his head as he set his mug down on the counter. He stepped closer, his boots scuffing lightly against the tiled floor. "Gotta stay awake somehow," he murmured, his tone low as he moved in behind you.
You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back, his hands settling lightly on your hips. A shiver ran up your spine as he leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.
"But I can think of a few other ways to wake up," he murmured, his voice rich and teasing.
Your heart skipped a beat, your hands freezing on the toaster as Joel pressed a soft kiss to your neck. "Joel," you said, your voice a mix of warning and amusement, "we're in the kitchen."
"So?" he drawled, his lips trailing a slow path along your skin. "Sarah's at work.
It's just us."
You turned your head slightly, giving him a look that was meant to be stern but didn't quite land, not with the way your breath hitched when his hands tightened on your hips. "This is hardly the place," you muttered, though your voice lacked conviction.
Joel hummed, his hands sliding around to your waist as he pulled you back against him. "Seems like the perfect place to me," he said, his tone full of mischief.
You twisted in his grasp, turning to face him with an exasperated smile. "You're impossible," you said, though the warmth in your eyes betrayed your fondness.
Joel grinned, leaning in close enough that his breath fanned across your lips.
"And you love it," he said, his voice soft but certain.
Your resolve wavered as he tilted his head, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started slow but quickly deepened. The toaster dinged behind you, but neither of you paid it any mind.
Joel's hands slid up your sides, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the world outside the kitchen faded away.
But just as things began to heat up, you broke the kiss with a breathless laugh, placing a hand on his chest to keep him at bay. "Alright, cowboy," you teased, your cheeks flushed. "Breakfast first, then we'll see about your... other ways to wake up."
Joel chuckled, his hands lingering on your waist as he stepped back, his grin smug and satisfied. "You're gonna be the death of me, darlin'," he said, his voice low and warm.
You grabbed your now-perfectly-toasted bread, shooting him a playful smile over your shoulder. "Good thing you've got plenty of coffee to keep you going," you quipped, leaving him standing there with a soft laugh as you carried your plate to the table.
The morning continued with an easy warmth between you, the promise of more lingering in the air, unspoken but undeniable.
Joel followed you to the table, his coffee in hand, the soft smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. He sat down across from you, watching as you spread butter on your toast, the moment comfortable and warm.
“You know,” he started, his voice carrying a nostalgic edge, “I remember a time when you and Sarah were just kids, runnin’ around here like you owned the place.”
You glanced up at him, curiosity sparking in your eyes. “Oh, yeah?”
Joel chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee before leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. Your dad brought you over one Sunday, I think you were maybe ten, and Sarah was five. He wanted to watch the game with me—Cowboys versus Eagles, I remember it clear as day.”
You smirked, your interest piqued. “Did the Cowboys lose?”
Joel shot you a mock glare. “Don’t start,” he teased, shaking his head. “Anyway, while your dad and I were in the living room yellin’ at the TV, you and Sarah took it upon yourselves to turn the whole backyard into a mud pit. You were playin’ some kind of game—pirates or adventurers or somethin’. By the time we found you, you were both covered head to toe in mud.”
You laughed, the image of your younger self and Sarah wreaking havoc bringing a warmth to your chest. “That sounds about right,” you admitted.
Joel grinned, his eyes softening as he continued. “Your dad just about lost his mind, yellin’ about the mess. I remember Sarah tryin’ to blame it all on you, and you, bold as ever, just crossed your arms and told him, ‘It’s an adventure, Mr. Miller. You can’t have an adventure without a little dirt.’”
You covered your mouth, laughing so hard you almost choked on your toast. “I did not say that!”
“Oh, you did,” Joel insisted, his grin widening. “And I think your dad was so stunned he didn’t know whether to laugh or keep lecturin’. I just about fell out of my chair tryin’ not to lose it.”
The memory filled the room with an easy warmth, and you could see the genuine fondness in Joel’s expression as he spoke.
“Y’know,” he added after a moment, his tone quieter, “you’ve always had that fire in you. Even as a kid. Always knew what you wanted, never afraid to stand your ground. Guess some things don’t change.”
You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his words, but you smiled, the compliment settling deep in your chest. “Well, I’m glad I left my mud pit days behind,” you said, your voice teasing.
Joel laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, darlin’. You’ve still got a way of stirrin’ things up,” he said with a wink, his tone playful but warm.
The two of you shared a laugh, the memory lingering like a soft glow between you, a reminder of how far you’d both come—and how much history tied you together in ways that felt impossible to ignore.
Joel’s laughter faded into a thoughtful silence, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, more serious.
“I wonder what your dad would think about me having feelings for you,” he said, his words soft but weighted, as if he’d been holding them in for a long time.
You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you looked up from your plate. Joel’s eyes were fixed on the table for a moment, his thumb tracing the edge of his coffee mug. When he finally glanced up, his gaze met yours, searching for your reaction.
The room felt smaller somehow, the air charged with the gravity of his confession. You swallowed, unsure of what to say at first. “Joel…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled faintly, a hint of nervousness in the way his lips twitched. “I mean it,” he said, his tone steady but vulnerable. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot. Feels like every day, it gets harder to pretend this is… nothin’.”
Your chest tightened as his words sank in, and the sincerity in his expression made your heart ache in the best way. You leaned back slightly, taking a shaky breath.
“What do you think he’d say?” you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and fear.
Joel shrugged, his smile turning rueful. “Probably punch me in the face,” he admitted, chuckling softly. “But then… I think he’d see how much I care about you. At least, I hope he would.”
The vulnerability in his voice was unmistakable, and it made something inside you soften. You reached across the table, your hand brushing against his.
“I think he’d come around,” you said quietly, your fingers curling around his. “Eventually. He’d see it too.”
Joel exhaled a small breath of relief, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “Guess it’s a good thing he doesn’t know yet,” he said with a wry smile. “Gives me time to prove it—to you, to him, to anyone who matters.”
You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “You don’t have to prove anything, Joel. I already see it.”
The weight in the room eased, replaced by a shared understanding that felt like a quiet promise. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you’d face them together.
Joel leaned back in his chair, his fingers still lightly brushing against yours. His expression shifted slightly, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Or what he’d say when he finds out we’ve been intimate together,” he murmured, his voice low but laced with a teasing edge.
Your face instantly flushed, and you pulled your hand back, covering your cheeks as you groaned. “Joel!” you exclaimed, though your tone was more flustered than angry.
“What?” he said, feigning innocence, though the glint in his eyes gave him away. “Just statin’ the obvious.”
You shot him a glare, but it lacked any real heat. “Do you have to say it like that?”
Joel chuckled, leaning forward again, resting his forearms on the table as he looked at you with that easy, confident smile. “What, you want me to sugarcoat it? Pretty sure the word ‘intimate’ was me bein’ polite.”
You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the small laugh that bubbled up despite your embarrassment. “I swear, you enjoy embarrassing me.”
“Maybe a little,” he admitted, his grin widening. “But c’mon, darlin’. You’ve thought about it too. What he’d say, what he’d do if he knew.”
Your blush deepened as you looked down at your plate, fiddling with the edge of your toast. “I try not to think about it,” you muttered.
Joel softened at your obvious discomfort, his teasing easing as he reached out to gently touch your hand. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “I’m not tryin’ to scare you or nothin’. Just… y’know, wonderin’ out loud.”
You looked up at him, your heart softening at the sincerity in his eyes. “He’d probably lose his mind,” you admitted quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But eventually, he’d see that you’re not just messing around. That you really care.”
Joel nodded, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Damn right I do,” he said firmly.
The seriousness in his tone sent a shiver through you, grounding you in the moment. As much as the thought of your dad knowing made you nervous, Joel’s unwavering presence reminded you that this was real—and worth whatever challenges might come your way.
Joel’s expression hardened slightly, his playful smirk giving way to something more serious. He leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening as he regarded you.
“Honestly,” he said, his voice low and steady, “I wouldn’t care what that bastard would think anyway, with the way he’s been treatin’ you.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in his tone. Joel rarely spoke about your dad like this, but the frustration in his voice was undeniable.
He shook his head, running a hand over his face. “You deserve better than that,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Better than the way he’s been actin’. Walkin’ out, comin’ back like nothin’ happened, and then expectin’ you to just go along with it.”
Your chest tightened, the familiar ache of disappointment in your dad rising to the surface. “It’s… complicated,” you murmured, not sure how else to respond.
Joel scoffed, his eyes locking onto yours. “Ain’t that complicated,” he said firmly. “A real man doesn’t treat his daughter like an afterthought. Doesn’t leave her to pick up the pieces while he plays house with someone else.”
The anger in his voice wasn’t directed at you, but it still made your breath hitch. Joel rarely let himself get this worked up, but seeing him so protective sent a strange mix of emotions swirling through you—gratitude, sadness, and something deeper.
He exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table. “Sorry,” he said, his voice softening. “I just… I hate seein’ you hurtin’, darlin’. Hate seein’ you doubt yourself because of him.”
You reached out, your hand finding his on the table. “Thanks,” you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly. “For caring. For… everything.”
Joel covered your hand with his other one, his touch warm and steady. “You’re worth it,” he said simply, his gaze steady and sure.
In that moment, the weight of your dad’s actions felt a little lighter, Joel’s words wrapping around you like a shield against the hurt.
The knock at the door was loud and insistent, making your stomach twist. Joel glanced at you, his brow furrowed as he set down his coffee and moved to answer it. You followed cautiously, dread building with each step.
When Joel opened the door, your dad stood on the porch, his face tight with frustration. His eyes immediately locked onto you.
“We need to talk,” your dad said sharply, barely acknowledging Joel.
Joel didn’t move from the doorway. “Maybe you should take a breath first,” he said evenly, his hand resting on the frame, blocking your dad’s entry.
Your dad’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising. “I’m not here to talk to you, Joel. I’m here to see my daughter. Don’t act like you can keep me away from her.”
Joel’s expression hardened, but he kept his tone calm. “No one’s keepin’ you away from her. She’s been here because she needed space. Her choice, not mine.”
Your dad’s glare snapped back to you, his frustration boiling over. “Space? Is that what you’ve been telling him? I’m your father! You don’t need space from me, you need to face what’s going on.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but Joel stepped forward slightly, his presence solid and protective. “She’s been facin’ a lot, more than you’ve given her credit for,” he said, his voice firm.
That was the breaking point. Your dad’s face reddened, his anger spilling over as he pointed a finger at Joel. “You need to stay the hell out of this!” he shouted. “You think you can just swoop in and play protector? She’s my daughter. Not yours. This is between me and her!”
Joel didn’t back down, his own frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. “She’s an adult,” he said slowly, his tone icy. “She gets to decide who’s in her life and who’s not. And from what I’ve seen, you haven’t exactly made it easy for her to stick around.”
Your dad’s fists clenched at his sides, his glare intensifying. “You think you’re some kind of hero?” he spat. “You’ve been keeping her here, filling her head with who knows what. You don’t know anything about what we’ve been through.”
Joel’s voice dropped, quiet but sharp as a knife. “I know enough to see she’s been hurtin’ because of you. And I know she deserves better.”
The tension was thick, the silence that followed almost unbearable. Your dad turned to you, his voice cracking as he spoke. “You really think he knows you better than I do? That he cares about you more than your own father?”
Your chest tightened, tears stinging at the edges of your eyes. “It’s not about that,” you said, your voice trembling. “It’s about what I need, Dad. And right now, I need time. I need space. And Joel… he’s been there for me when you weren’t.”
Your dad looked at you, his expression flickering between hurt and anger. “Fine,” he muttered finally, stepping back toward the porch. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess I can’t stop you. But don’t think this is over.”
He stormed off, the slam of his car door echoing through the quiet street. Joel closed the door behind him, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled heavily.
“you okay?” he asked, turning to you, his voice softening.
You nodded, though your hands still shook. “I think so,” you said quietly.
Joel stepped closer, placing a steadying hand on your shoulder. “You don’t owe him anything you’re not ready to give,” he said gently.
You looked up at him, the warmth in his eyes calming the storm in your chest. “Thanks, Joel,” you murmured, leaning into him.
“Always, darlin’,” he replied, pulling you into a reassuring embrace.
The weather had started to shift, the chill of winter giving way to the warmer promise of spring. The faint scent of fresh grass hung in the air, and the sunlight filtered through the windows a little brighter each day. Joel seemed to notice it too, though he probably wasn’t even aware of how much.
You caught him one afternoon standing on the back porch, his hands on his hips as he stared at the old grill like it was a long-lost friend. He didn’t say anything at first, just tilted his head slightly before letting out a small hum of consideration.
“What’s got you so deep in thought?” you teased, stepping out onto the porch with a cup of coffee in hand.
Joel glanced over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Just thinkin’ it’s about time to clean this thing up,” he said, nodding toward the grill. “Haven’t fired it up since last summer.”
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Getting ready for BBQ season already?”
He shrugged, running a hand along the side of the grill. “Gotta be prepared. Never know when you’re gonna need a good steak or burger,” he said, his tone casual, but there was a flicker of excitement in his eyes.
You couldn’t help but smile. “Is this your way of saying you’re craving grilled food?”
Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But it’s also just… somethin’ about this time of year. The smell of a grill, the sound of people laughin’, kids runnin’ around. It’s the kinda thing that makes life feel normal, y’know?”
You leaned against the railing, watching him as he opened the grill’s lid, inspecting the grates like he was planning a battle strategy. It was endearing, the way he was so focused, like getting this grill ready was the most important thing in the world.
“Well,” you said, sipping your coffee, “if you’re planning on grilling, you better make sure you’re stocked up on propane. And maybe replace those grates—they’re looking a little rough.”
Joel shot you a mock glare. “You tellin’ me how to do my job now?”
“Just offering some helpful advice,” you replied, grinning.
He shook his head, laughing softly as he closed the grill lid. “Alright, smartass. You’ll see. I’ll have this thing up and runnin’ better than new in no time.”
You watched as he headed back into the house, already muttering something about cleaning supplies and tools. It was such a small thing, but seeing Joel so quietly invested in something so simple made your chest warm.
Spring was creeping in, and with it, the promise of more shared moments like this—moments of normalcy, comfort, and maybe even a little bit of joy.
The realization hit you as you stood on the back porch, watching Joel fiddle with the old grill. Had it really been nearly a year since the last barbecue? Time felt slippery lately, blurring into itself as the days passed.
Without a steady routine for so long, you’d lost track of seasons and milestones, each day blending into the next. Now, with your part-time job creeping closer to full-time hours, you were starting to find your footing again. But the void your dad had left still lingered, the weight of his absence something you couldn’t shake entirely.
You leaned against the railing, the warmth of the sun on your skin a small comfort. Joel glanced over his shoulder, catching the pensive look on your face. “You alright, darlin’?” he asked, pausing his work.
You nodded slowly, your lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah, just… thinking,” you replied, your voice distant.
Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t push. He simply nodded and turned back to the grill, giving you the space to collect your thoughts.
Working had helped. It gave you purpose, a distraction from the tangled mess of emotions you were still trying to sort through. The paychecks were starting to add up, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you were moving forward—maybe even toward something of your own.
An apartment. Your own space. It was still a distant thought, but the idea filled you with equal parts hope and apprehension. Could you really do it? Could you stand on your own after everything that had happened?
“You seem far away,” Joel said, breaking the silence as he closed the grill lid and wiped his hands on a rag.
You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” you murmured. “Just… thinking about how much has changed. And how much hasn’t.”
Joel leaned against the railing beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. “You’ve been through a lot,” he said quietly. “More than most people could handle. But you’re makin’ it through.”
His words were simple, but they carried a weight that made your chest ache. “I don’t feel like I’ve done much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Joel shook his head, turning to face you. “You’ve done more than you think. Workin’, tryin’ to get your own place, dealin’ with all this mess—it ain’t easy. But you’re doin’ it. And that’s somethin’ to be proud of.”
You looked up at him, his steady gaze grounding you in a way that nothing else could. “Thanks,” you said softly, your lips curving into a small, genuine smile.
Joel nodded, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he said, his voice warm. “And when you do get that place of your own, it’s gonna feel damn good.”
The thought made your chest swell with a flicker of hope. It wasn’t going to be easy, but with Joel’s quiet support and your own determination, you were starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could make it happen.
fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him
I was editing a new chapter for TSBU when my phone glitched and deleted the whole thing—11,000 words, just gone. I’m honestly in shock and have no idea what to do. This is so frustrating.
|Serious themes 🌧️| Smut 🔥| Neutral 🦋|
𝓦𝓱𝓲𝓼𝓴𝓮𝔂 & 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼 (STORY) -ongoing 🌧️🔥 Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader | pre-outbreak au
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚜 (STORY) -ongoing🌧️🔥 Joel Miller x f!reader
𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 (ONE-SHOT)🌧️ Joel Miller x f!reader
ꉓ꒒ꂦꌗꍟ ꆰꀎꍏꋪ꓄ꍟꋪꌗ (MINI SERIES)-complete 🌧️🔥Joel miller x f!reader
𝓣𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓛𝓸𝔂𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓼 (ONE-SHOT) 🔥Stepdad!Joel x f!reader
𝓘 𝓜𝓘𝓖𝓗𝓣 𝓕𝓛𝓞𝓐𝓣 (ONE-SHOT) 🌧️Joel miller x f!reader
𝕄𝕚𝕕𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝔼𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 (ONE-SHOT) 🔥Joel miller x f!reader
𝕮𝖆𝖘𝖚𝖆𝖑 (ONE-SHOT) 🦋Joel miller x f!reader
͓̽T͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽h͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽S͓͓̽̽h͓̽a͓͓̽̽d͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽w͓͓̽̽s͓̽ (ONE-SHOT) 🌧️ Joel miller x f!reader
𝓢𝓸𝓯𝓽 𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓗𝓸𝓶𝓮 (ONE-SHOT)🦋 Joel miller x Plus sized f!reader
𝑅𝑜𝒶𝒹𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒯𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 (ONE-SHOT)🔥Joel miller x f!reader
𝒜 𝒩𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒯𝑜 𝒦𝑒𝑒𝓃 (ONE-SHOT) 🦋Joel miller x f!reader | no outbreak au
𝓞𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓴 (ONE-SHOT)🔥Daddy!Joel miller x f!reader | no outbreak au
𝐵𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒟𝓊𝓉𝓎 & 𝒟𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒 (ONE-SHOT)🔥Dbf!Joel Miller x babysitter f!Reader | no outbreak au
I really want to make a master list, but it takes so long and is so hard to do on mobile. I barely have time to use my PC since I’m a full time mother, but hopefully, I can get to it by this weekend!
oh god i dont want to leave digital footprint but i want to rip that shirt off him and and and and
a/n: pictures are not mine
“On the Brink”
Joel Miller x f!Reader | one shot smut Drabble
W/C: 2.7k
You knew teasing Joel was dangerous, but you didn't expect it to end like this— pinned beneath his firm grip, trembling as he holds you on the brink of pleasure. His voice is low, commanding, full of promises you're not sure you can handle, but you have no choice. He's not letting you go until you've learned your lesson.
Content Warnings: MDNI -This piece contains explicit sexual content, orgasm denial and control, impact play (light spanking), fingering, consensual dominance and submission dynamics (including the use of titles like "Daddy"), themes of overstimulation and begging, and intense emotional vulnerability during consensual sexual interactions. This content is intended for mature audiences only and should be read with discretion.
The room was quiet except for the sound of your shallow breaths and Joel's low, gravelly voice. You were on the bed, spread out for him, your wrists pinned above your head by one of his large, rough hands. His other hand was between your thighs, teasing you mercilessly, keeping you hovering on the brink of release but never letting you reach it.
"You've been beggin' so sweetly," he murmured, his dark eyes burning into yours as his fingers slid over your slick heat. "But I already told you, darlin. You don't get to come until I say so."
Your body trembled beneath him, your hips bucking instinctively against his hand. "Please, Daddy," you whimpered, your voice breaking. "I can't take it anymore. I need to-"
Joel chuckled softly, his smirk widening as he pressed his thumb against your most sensitive spot, drawing a desperate moan from your lips. "Oh, you need to, huh?" he drawled, his tone laced with mockery. "You're so worked up you think you can just come whenever you want?"
You nodded frantically, your body arching beneath him as the tension in your core built to an unbearable peak.
"Yes," you gasped, your voice trembling.
"Please, Joel-"
"Not my name," he interrupted, his tone sharp. His hand stilled, and you let out a frustrated sob as the pressure inside you dissipated. "You know better than that, sweetheart. What do you call me?"
"Daddy," you corrected quickly, your cheeks flushing as you squirmed beneath his unrelenting grip. "Please, Daddy, I'll do anything."
Joel smirked, his hand resuming its slow, teasing movements. "That's better," he muttered, his voice rough.
"But you don't get to come just 'cause you're beggin! You're gonna take what I give you, baby, and nothin' more."
You whimpered, your body trembling as his fingers worked you closer to the edge again. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with sensation, but just as your release hovered within reach, Joel pulled back again, leaving you gasping and writhing beneath him.
"Joel!" you cried, your voice tinged with desperation.
His dark eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "What did I just say?" he growled, his voice low and commanding. "You don't come until I fuckin' say so. And you definitely don't get to call me that when your actin' like a brat."
"I'm sorry, Daddy," you whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as your body trembled with need.
"I'll be good, I promise."
"Damn right you'll be good," he muttered, his hand sliding back between your thighs, his fingers curling perfectly inside you. "But you're still not gettin' it, sweetheart. This ain't about what you want. This is about what I want."
You cried out softly as he worked you over with deliberate precision, his movements just enough to bring you back to the brink. Your hips bucked against his hand, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the tension in your core built again.
"Daddy, please," you sobbed, your voice trembling. "I can't-"
"Can't what?" Joel interrupted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Can't hold it?
You're gonna have to, darlin. 'Cause l'm not lettin' you come tonight."
The sharpness of his words sent a fresh wave of frustration through you, tears spilling down your cheeks as your body trembled beneath him. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely audible.
"I'll do anything. Just let me-"
"Anything?" Joel echoed, his smirk widening as his fingers stilled again.
"Then you'll take what I give you and not a second more."
Your sobs grew louder as he continued to tease you, his pace unrelenting but never enough to tip you over the edge.
Your thighs trembled, your hands clutching at the sheets as you tried to find some relief, but Joel's grip on your wrists kept you firmly in place.
"Look at you," he muttered, his voice low and rough. "Drippin' all over yourself, beggin' me to let you come. You're so fuckin' pretty when you're desperate like this."
"Daddy, please," you whimpered, your voice hoarse from crying. "I'll be good, I swear. Just-please, I can't take it anymore."
Joel chuckled softly, his dark eyes filled with satisfaction as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I know, baby," he murmured, his tone laced with affection. "But you'll take it anyway. You're mine, and I'll decide when you've had enough."
Joel chuckled darkly, his hand leaving you for a moment before coming down with a sharp smack against your center.
The sound echoed through the room, and you gasped, your hips jerking instinctively at the sudden sting.
"That get your attention?" he asked, his tone teasing as his fingers returned, stroking you gently. The contrast between the sharp smack and the soft touch made your body tremble, a needy whimper escaping your lips.
"Y-yes, Daddy," you stammered, your thighs quivering under his grip.
"Good," he muttered, his smirk widening as he brought his hand down again, the sting sharper this time. The mix of pain and pleasure sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and you moaned loudly, your hands clutching at the sheets.
"Such a good girl," he murmured, his fingers dipping into your slick folds, teasing you mercilessly. "Takin' it so well for me. You like it when I do that, don't you?"
"Yes," you gasped, your body arching beneath him. "I love it."
"Damn right you do," he growled, his hand coming down again, the sting sharper this time. Your moans grew louder, your body trembling with the intensity of it all as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin.
"Keep makin' those pretty noises for me, baby," he muttered, his voice thick with arousal. "Let me hear how much you like it."
You whimpered, your hips rocking against his hand as he alternated between soft, teasing strokes and sharp, deliberate smacks. The sensation was overwhelming, every touch sending a fresh wave of heat through your body, building the tension in your core until you were trembling beneath him.
"Please, Daddy," you whimpered, your voice shaking. "'m so close."
"Not yet," he muttered, his hand coming down one more time, the sting making you cry out. He leaned in, his dark eyes locking onto yours as his fingers slid inside you, curling perfectly. "You don't get to come until I say so. Understand?"
"Yes, Daddy," you whimpered, your voice barely audible as your body trembled under his touch.
"That's my girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your thigh. "Now let's see how long you can hold it."
Your body trembled violently as Joel's fingers moved inside you, his grip firm and unrelenting. The sharp sting of his hand smacking against your center moments earlier still echoed through you, blending into the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins.
His dark eyes bore into yours, his expression hard as he kept teasing and taunting, pushing you closer to the edge.
"You don't get to come yet," he growled, his tone low and commanding. "You're gonna hold it for me like a good girl. Understand?"
"Yes, Daddy" you gasped, your voice trembling, though your body had other plans. The fire in your core was too much to ignore-his fingers, his voice, his presence-it was all too overwhelming. You could feel yourself hurtling toward the edge, and no amount of restraint was going to stop it.
Joel smirked, his fingers curling perfectly inside you as his thumb pressed against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "That's it," he murmured. "Feel how close you are? But you're not gonna let go. Not until I say so."
Your breath hitched, your thighs quivering as your hips rocked instinctively against his hand. "I-can't," you whimpered, your voice barely audible. "It's too much."
"Don't," he warned, his voice sharp, his other hand tightening on your thigh.
"Don't you fuckin' come, darlin. Dont you dare"
But the tension in your body snapped like a rubber band, and before you could stop yourself, your climax crashed over you, stealing your breath as your body shook beneath him. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you, your thighs clenching around his hand.
Joel froze, his eyes narrowing as he watched you fall apart in defiance of his order. His hand stilled, his jaw tightening as his gaze locked onto yours. "Bad girl," he muttered, his tone low and disbelieving.
You whimpered softly, your body still trembling as you clutched at the sheets, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and lingering pleasure.
"I-I couldn't help it," you stammered, your voice shaking.
Joel's smirk returned, but this time it was dark, almost predatory, as he pulled his hand away and wiped it on the sheets. "You couldn't help it, huh?" he repeated, his tone laced with mockery.
"You just couldn't follow one simple rule?"
You shook your head, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. "I'm sorry, Daddy," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I didn't mean to-"
"Sorry ain't gonna cut it," he interrupted, his tone sharp as he leaned over you, his broad frame towering over yours.
"You think you can just do whatever you want? Think you can come whenever you feel like it, even after I told you not to?"
You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as Joel grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other trailed down your body, his touch firm and deliberate.
"I told you to wait," he muttered, his voice low and rough as his hand slid between your thighs. "And now, you're gonna take what I give you until I decide you've learned your lesson."
"Joel, please-" you began, but his dark eyes flashed, cutting you off.
"Try again" he growled, his grip tightening on your wrists.
"Daddy," you corrected quickly, your voice shaking. "I'm sorry, Daddy."
"Too late for sorry," he muttered, his fingers slipping inside you again, his movements unrelenting. "You wanna come so bad? Fine. You're gonna come again, and again, until you're beggin' me to stop."
Your body arched beneath him, the overstimulation making your legs tremble as his fingers worked you over mercilessly. He was relentless, his pace brutal, pushing you toward another release almost immediately.
"Next time," he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear as your moans grew louder, "when I tell you to wait, you'll remember this. Won't you, baby?"
"Yes," you gasped, your voice breaking as your body tensed beneath him, another climax crashing over you. "Yes, Daddy, I'll remember."
Joel smirked, his grip on your wrists softening slightly as he leaned down, pressing a rough, possessive kiss to your lips. "Good," he muttered, his tone low and satisfied. "But we're not done yet."
Joel’s dark eyes bore into yours, his smirk widening as he watched you tremble beneath him, your chest heaving, and your body still trembling from your last climax. His grip on your wrists remained firm, pinning you to the bed as he hovered over you, his expression full of smug satisfaction.
“You think you’ve had enough?” he muttered, his tone laced with mockery. His free hand slid down your body, his calloused fingers trailing over your oversensitive skin. “Not a chance, sweetheart. You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted me to take care of you?”
“Joel—” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper, but the sharp look he gave you silenced you immediately.
“What’s my name?” he growled, his hand gripping your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.
“Daddy,” you corrected quickly, your voice trembling. “Please, Daddy, I can’t—”
“Oh, you can,” he interrupted, his tone firm and commanding. “And you will. I told you, darlin’. You don’t get to come without my permission, and now you’re gonna pay for it.”
His hand slid between your thighs again, his fingers finding your slick cunt with ease. You whimpered softly, your body arching beneath him as he teased you, his touch maddeningly slow and deliberate.
“You’re so fuckin’ sensitive,” he muttered, his dark eyes flicking down to watch as his fingers worked you over. “Look at you, shakin’ like a leaf. You think I’m gonna stop just ‘cause you’re beggin’? Not a chance.”
You cried out as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your body tense and your vision blur. The overstimulation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he pushed you closer to the edge again.
“Please, Daddy,” you gasped, your voice breaking as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I can’t take it anymore. It’s too much.”
Joel chuckled darkly, his hand tightening on your wrists as his pace quickened. “Oh, you’ll take it, baby,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You’ll take every bit of it until I’m done with you.”
Your body tensed beneath him, the tension in your core building impossibly fast as he continued, his fingers relentless. “Come for me,” he growled, his voice thick with arousal. “Let me feel you come again, darlin’. Let me see how much you can take.”
You shattered beneath him, your body trembling violently as your release hit you like a tidal wave. A loud, broken moan tore from your throat, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you. Joel groaned softly, his dark eyes burning with satisfaction as he watched you fall apart.
But he didn’t stop.
Your moans turned to soft sobs as his fingers continued their assault, his pace unrelenting. “Daddy, please,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as tears streamed down your cheeks. “I can’t—I can’t take it anymore. Please, stop.”
Joel’s smirk deepened, his free hand brushing a tear from your cheek as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’ll take what I give you, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “And I’m not stoppin’ until you’re beggin’ me to never touch you again.”
“Joel—Daddy—please,” you sobbed, your hands tugging weakly at the restraints. “It hurts. It’s too much.”
“I know, baby,” he murmured, his tone softening slightly, though his fingers never faltered. “But you’re bein’ so good for me. Just a little more, darlin’. You can handle it.”
Your body trembled beneath him, the overstimulation so intense it was almost unbearable. Every touch sent fresh waves of pleasure and pain coursing through you, your cries growing louder as your body tensed again.
“Fuck, look at you,” Joel muttered, his tone thick with lust as his gaze roamed over your trembling form. “You’re fallin’ apart for me. So fuckin’ perfect.”
“Daddy, please,” you begged, your voice hoarse. “I’ll be good. I promise. Just—please stop.”
Joel leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss. “One more,” he murmured, his tone low and commanding. “You’re gonna give me one more, darlin’. Then I’ll stop. Promise.”
You whimpered softly, your body trembling as his thumb pressed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, the added pressure making your thighs quake. You couldn’t hold back, your body giving in completely as another climax ripped through you, leaving you sobbing and trembling beneath him.
Joel finally stilled his hand, his grip on your wrists loosening as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “There you go,” he murmured, his voice quiet and soothing now. “You did so good for me, baby. So goddamn good.”
He reached up to undo your restraints, his hands gentle as he massaged the red marks on your wrists. Once you were free, he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he placed soft kisses to your hair
writing is so fun
writing is impossible why does anyone do this
