Sadness was gone, now all you felt for him was disdain.
And it was that exactly same feeling that made you wear your nicest bikini β a baby pink one that darkens when wet β to his family barbecue instead of breaking up and telling him you already knew everything he did.
It was disdain that made you share a beer with his dad.
Oh, his dad. You knew you had made the wrong choice when you met him.
His broad shoulders, his warm smile and personality, his greying beard and hair, strong arms and soft dark eyes. You almost moaned when you first saw him, almost moaned when he pulled you into a hug, feeling his warmth on your chest.
He was the only reason you still hadn't broken up with his son β and you had several reasons to contrapoint him. You weren't ready to leave him, to not see or talk to him ever again.
It was disdain that made you flirt with his dad, sitting by his side by the pool, touching his legs while you talked to him. Tell him what his son did to you, show him the picture of the girl he did it with.
It was anger that made his dad want to go after him, to teach him how to respect a woman. You don't know what made you hold him back.
But it was disdain that made him lean into you, touching your thigh and giving you a reassuring smile.
βI just don't know how he thought he could ever find someone better, funnier, prettier than you, angel.β
It was disdain that made you lick your lips, looking at his, smiling to him and falling back into the pool.
Disdain made you keep looking at him, for him, the rest of the barbecue.
Desire made his dad not take his eyes off you, watching how your bikini would dry back to its baby pink before darkening again when you got back on the pool.
It was desire that made you stare at his dad until he looked back, finding a smile on your face as you turned your head towards the house. Calling him in.
It was desire that made his dad follow you inside his house, inside his bathroom, locking the door behind him, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck and your collarbones, squeezing your sides, biting your jaw and grabbing your ass.
Making you melt into his arms, your baby pink bikini darkening right in between your legs, showing him how much you craved this very moment.
βHe's just a boy, you need a real man to show you how you should be treated, to take care of you like you deserve. To fuck you like you need to be.β He said in your ear as you palmed him through his shorts, undoing their cords and shoving your hand into them, moaning at how big β much, much bigger than his son β, how thick, how heavy and how hard he was.
βHe was so gentle, Mr. Miller. He was so soft.β You whimpered on his neck, running your free hand through his hair, his hands squeezing your whole body.
βAnd you don't want it soft, do you, baby? You think you can do it for me? Take it like a woman? Huh? Give a grown man what he needs from you?β He asked right before rolling his tongue around your clothed nipple and biting on it over your bikini, staining its baby pink with his saliva, earning a moan from you.
βWas hoping you'd teach me how, Mr. Miller.β
"Don't call me that, angel." He says with a groan, thrusting into your hand.
He turned you around, freeing his cock, pushing your tiny bikini to the side and bending you over the sink. He slid his cock between your folds, groaning at how wet and soft you felt.
"Goddammit baby, so ready for me already."
"Wanted you for a long time, Joel." You moan, moving your hips, grinding yourself onto his cock and his body. He smiles at how you obeyed him, not calling him Mr. Miller anymore.
βA stupid young boy cheats on you and the first thing you do is fuck his daddy, huh, baby? Such a good fucking slut...β He pants on your ears, and you hate how it makes you moan, you hate how you can feel yourself wetting his cock even more with what he calls you.
But his touch is so strong, so firm, so soft at the same time. His voice so soothing and breathy. His degradation always followed by a praise that makes you need him even more.
"...My favorite type of girl, know you're gonna be so good for me." He completes, thrusting forward, his cock sliding through your folds, his tip tickling your clit, making you moan.
"I will, daddy. Need you inside me, please." You plead, and he squeezes your hips, right where your thighs connect to them, groaning on your ear.
βGood girl, so desperate for my cock. You beg so nice, pretty.β That's what he wanted you to call him all along.
He guided his tip to your entrance, grunting at how you clenched around it as soon at it went inside, at how easily your arousal made it for him to bottom out inside you, despite how tight you were.
It was lust that made you bounce your hips back on him, rolling them and moaning, biting his palm when he covered your mouth.
βKnow you want to make him jealous, baby. But we can't let anyone hear us and end our fun, can we?β
It was disdain that made his dad fuck you. Not just have sex with you, a much younger, pretty girl. But fuck you.
Relentless, hard, deep, fast, rough. Squeezing your hips and your breasts, grunting and groaning in your ears, praising you for being so bad.
"Fucking your father-in-law while your boyfriend's outside. So fucking bad, baby."
"If I only knew you were such a good girl. I would've had so much more fun with you."
βHow many times I came by myself, thinking about this pretty body of yours. Could've used your help all along.β
He kept going, the sounds of your bonding-time just not alerting anyone because of his shorts muffling his thrusts and his hand muffling your moans.
"C'mon, cum for me, baby. Gonna look so pretty with your eyes rolling back for me." He said, staring at your reflection on the mirror. Your brows furrowed, hair all messy, his large hand covering the whole bottom of your face. His dark and hooded eyes, his low eyebrows, a fucking gorgeous smile on his face. βPlay with yourself, c'mon. Have you ever done it for me before?β
You nod desperately, you had. So many times. Sometimes when you were with his son. Wishing it was him, to treat you like you wanted, like you needed to be handled.
βI did, daddy. So many times.β You tried to say, his hand muffling most of your words, but he still got it.
βShow me how you did it, princess. Touch yourself for me, squeeze daddy's cum out of him."
You roll your fingers passionately around your clit, his punishing pace making it easy for you to cum around him, gushing on his cock and clenching around him, forcing him to fuck you even harder, forging room for himself inside you.
"Fuck, baby. So pretty cumming all over me, so bad. Cumming so hard for your boyfriend's daddy, making me feel so good. Gonna cum for you too, baby."
βIn my mouth, daddy. Please.β
"Mouth? How are you gonna talk to people when we're done? Just gonna let them smell my cum on your mouth, baby? Huh, is that what you want? For everyone to know how good you were for me?"
You nod, furrowing your brows. He watches your face on the mirror, letting go of your mouth, pulling out and turning you back around.
You can feel yourself leaking down your thighs.
"So fucking good, baby." He says before kissing you, hungry and passionate, before interlacing his fingers on your hair and pulling you down.
You grab him and suck him passionately, twisting your wrists, rolling your tongue around his tip and cupping his balls. He thrusts into your mouth a few times, grunting and looking into your eyes, pulling away before pumping himself, deep and fast.
βNow open wide for daddy, c'mon.β
You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out.
"Good, so pretty like this." He praises.
He cums in long and thick streams, filling your mouth, making you smile and moan at his taste, his warmth.
You move his cum inside your mouth, letting it coat every little corner of it before opening your mouth again, showing it to him.
"Greedy girl, not one drop to waste. Swallow, baby." He pants, and you do, looking into his eyes and swallowing, smiling when you're done, showing him your empty mouth. "Did you like it?" He asked, caressing your hair.
"I loved it, daddy." You answer, licking the drop of cum falling from his tip.
"And am I gonna have to teach you some manners too?"
"Sorry daddy, thank you. I loved it."
"Good, such a good girl for me."
He lifts you up, kissing you.
"Can't leave the bathroom with this stinky mouth, can you? Can't let anyone know how much fun we just had together." He said, putting some toothpaste on his index finger. "Open up, show me your teeth."
You do as you're told. He brushes your teeth with his finger, cleaning your whole mouth, even your tongue, before telling you to rinse.
"My son is one stupid motherfucker, baby. I'll take care of you from now on. Make sure you're getting everything you deserve. Making sure you never let any boy come close to you ever again."
If you only knew that getting cheated on was the best thing that could happen to you...
Boba Fett and Din Djarin looks at each other and nodded.
Fett : *touches Din's helmet with a finger*
Djarin : Oh no! *slowly falls dramatically* I've been gravely wounded! Fett, you have defeated me. This darksaber is yours and now you rule Mandalore. Farewell universe! *Grogu walks to him and pat his helmet then move to sit by his head, eating blue cookies*
Fett : *stares at Bo-Katan as he grabs the darksaber from Djarin* . . . Fight me, bitch.
Bo-Katan : *shaking in fury as she watch all this shit*
Hello wonderful travelers and welcome to my non-specific fandoms world. I write some fics, a few French poems and all dividers/edits, etc, are made by me. Enjoy π
More information about me. My library recommandations, My Spotify, My Pinterest.
π Synopsis: Your dads, Bill and Frank, are the only people you've ever met. When Joel Miller comes to visit, you learn about new and exciting feelings.
π§° Features: π, soft!Joel, kissing, very secluded and kinda oblivious reader. Honestly there's not much, this is mostly just the setting of the story.
π Word count: A bit over 5k.
π§° About this: Timeline's a bit different from the show. Basically their ages are the same from the show, Bill and Frank are older than Joel. But here, they all meet in 2023, after the raiders already shot Bill. The main difference from the show is that here Bill and Frank are not as old in 2023 as they are on the show, I picture then as old as they are when they meet Joel and Tess on the show.
π Author's note: She's finally here! I loved writing Bill and Frank βπ»π€§ literally my favorite. Writing their dynamics with reader was a joy, loved it.
You've lived in Lincoln your whole life, but the majority of it was inside the town your dad built for himself right after the outbreak.
He was the only person you knew β or remembered, at least β until Frank arrived.
You were six or seven when your dad told you to lock yourself inside your bedroom and gave you a gun, which he had already taught you how to use. "You only open this door for daddy or to kill whoever is inside that trap, alright, cupcake?" You obeyed, looking out the window and watching him talk and then walk the man past his gates.
You only opened your door when he called you, a couple minutes later, a plate of food in his hands. "This is for you, baby. I'm gonna feed him and he'll go away. He can't see or hear you, so you stay here real quiet. I'll tell you when you can leave."
And you did, but instead of calling you, he came back later, tucked you in and told you not to leave your room for the rest of the night. You had a bathroom and he brought you more food and told you not to worry, so you didn't mind.
Next morning he introduced you to Frank, saying he'd stay around for a while.
A while became forever, and before you knew it, you had two dads. Two very different men who did their best to look after you.
But nothing they did could prepare you for today.
Nothing could prepare you for the man you'd see today.
π§°πβ
Your dads were having people over for the first time in literally forever. But you wouldn't be a part of it.
"Bill, for God's sake, she would have so much fun! She needs to see people." You heard Frank almost yell from the kitchen.
"I'm not letting them see her! I don't know what got over me to let you give them our fucking location! I won't let them know we have a daughter!" Bill sounded angry and upset, he was afraid everything he worked so hard on building could be destroyed by Frank's "friends".
So the first woman β if you don't consider the one in your faded memories β you've ever seen, and the very first man who wasn't one of your dads, had to be seen from your bedroom window.
When you saw her you smiled, thinking about all the things you two could talk about. Did her hair annoy her as much as yours did sometimes? Did she feel the same things that you did? What would her voice sound like?
Your wandering was cut by the next new person you saw.
Tall, broad shoulders, short and greying hair and beard and a sculpted face. An imposing figure that took over your senses, setting itself instantly as your new favorite sight. He made your stomach feel like it was loose, floating around your belly, but you couldn't bring yourself to look anywhere else.
You watched from your window as they sat down and ate. Your dads clearly having two very different experiences, Frank was laid back and having fun, while Bill sat stiff and you constantly saw his hand reach for his gun.
Your attention was focused on the man, though. The way he sat, how his jaw moved when he chewed on your dad's food, how his eyes were hooded and serious, most of the time holding your dad's gaze.
His eyes were so pretty, from a distance they seemed dark and mysterious, and you stared into them, your brows furrowing with the intensity of his look. You were so lost in them that it took you β way over β a second to realize he was looking right at you. And you only noticed because your dad yelled.
"Frank, not inside!"
You hid behind your curtains. Your chest moving so fast it hurts, and you can feel every contraction of your heart.
Your dad will fucking kill you. They shouldn't have seen you, but now the man has.
"Aren't you going to introduce us to her?" He had barely spoken yet, and his voice sent chills down your spine, pooling in your panties.
"Who?" Bill asked, his hand reaching for his gun. He was ready to kill both of them at any wrong move.
"Oh, shit." Frank sighed under his breath. "Bill, it's okay." He said, resting his hand on Bill's shoulder.
"There's a girl?" The woman asked excited, looking around to see if she could find you.
"Fucking β stay here." Bill told the man and the woman.
Him and Frank walked inside, and you, still hidden behind the curtains, kept looking at the man. Your heart felt like it didn't fit inside your chest anymore.
You stepped away when they walked inside your bedroom.
"Honey, I told you to be careful. Goddammit." Bill said, opening his arms as you run towards him, tugging yourself under his embrace.
"Sorry, daddy. I wanted to see them." Frank invited himself into the hug. "It's okay, darling. We'll take you to meet them, if you want to. They seem like good people, even your dad has to admit." But Bill's face didn't look like he agreed with it.
"Can I?" You looked into Bill's eyes and he looked at Frank, shaking his head no, but looking back at you and sighing.
"Okay. You can come down. But!" He said when you started giggling into his chest, hugging him tighter. "But they think we have others come over, so keep that in mind. And, listen to me. You're gonna stay with us, alright? I want to keep my eyes on you the whole damn time." You nod enthusiastically, hugging Frank.
"Oh, you'll love Tess!" He said and you made a little happy sound.
"I know! I have so much I want to talk to her about!" You say excited. Bill sighing behind you, scratching the back of his neck and shaking his head, a soft smile breaking through his face.
You three reach the front door. Your arm is tangled with Bill's, your eyes wandering around as you walk outside.
"Look, there is a girl. She's our daughter. She's... We wanted to know you first, before you could meet her." Frank said, walking outside first, you and Bill following right after.
You were wearing a yellow summer dress, and you could see the man gulping when he saw you. You were a vision he thought this world would never provide him again.
Feminine and pretty. Colorful amongst all the muted colors everyone was wearing.
Your dress perfectly outlining your curves, your hair looking like silk, falling carefully over your shoulders, your eyes wide; attentive but curious at the same time.
"Oh, look at you! You're so pretty!" The woman said, and you couldn't hold your smile back anymore. "I'm Tess, what's your name?" You looked up, at Bill, who caught your gaze and nodded for you to respond.
You told her your name, and you could see the man's brows furrow behind her when you said it.
"Well, it's really nice to meet you. This is Joel, we're..." She looked back at him, then at your dads, and she seemed uncomfortable for a second. "We're friends. And we're really glad to be here, to meet this place. To meet you!" She finished with a warm smile.
You loved her.
You shook her hand and the man approached you, shaking your hand as well, his eyes sweet but intense, and a soft smile on his lips. You couldn't help the girly smile that stamped your own lips while greeting him.
His hand was big, rough, textured, but also soft and warm, his fingers double the size of yours, distracting you. It made your breath get stuck on your throat, and your mind wonder what it would feel like if he held you the way your dads held one another. If he touched your face or your sides. If he ran his hands up your legs, like you do sometimes at night.
If his rough fingers would hurt you if they touched you on other places, how much further than yours his fingers could go, how much more you'd have to open yourself to him.
You loved him.
You all sat back down at the table, Bill insisting you'd sit between him and Frank. You talked a lot to Tess, about things you had tried to talk about with your dads, but they never seemed to fully understand.
After your dad lowered his guard a little, he let you, Frank and Tess walk around, show her some things and talk. You felt comfortable around her, like she was someone you had always known.
Whenever you looked at the man, though, you felt the same things from when you were watching him through your window. Your stomach felt funny, and your palms dry and sweaty at the same time. The fact that he kept looking at your direction didn't help you, either.
Everytime you were not around him you felt in your guts that you were wasting your time, that you should come back and try to get close to him.
It was like there was a magnetic field between you two. You couldn't stop looking for him, and he seemed to not find interest in anything else after seeing you.
Every fucking time you looked at him you found his eyes already on you. Analyzing you, studying you, as if he wanted to engrave you on his mind.
You were everything he thought didn't exist anymore. You were feminine, your hair was pretty, your skin was soft and you smelled good. Frank had made you a perfume with a few flowers and fruits, and you wore it everyday.
It smelled fresh and delicate, and the smell got stuck on Joel's wrist, coating his mind with a soft but persistent layer of you.
Even more than the smell, the hair or the soft skin, it was you that drove him crazy. The silly smile you had stamped on your face the whole goddamn time, the way you talked to Tess like you could never run out of things to talk about, how delicate you looked.
But also how your dads told the story of the day raiders tried to invade Lincoln, how you and Bill shot them, how you killed the one who shot Bill. Most of all how you told the whole thing with a smile on your face. How not fragile you were, despite your girly figure.
How intriguing you were.
And Joel couldn't keep his mind and his eyes off you.
He knew he wouldn't find someone like you ever again, so he wanted to make sure he had your frame right on his brain.
Having his attention made you feel good, in a different, new way. In a way you've never felt before. But it also made your stomach feel funny, like you were sick.
You went for Bill, who was sitting on a porch chair next to the man, taking to him. "Daddy, is it okay if I go to bed? Not feeling great." You asked your dad, the man shifting by his side.
"Yes, darling, sure. Do you need anything?" He asked, his voice coated with concern.
"No, I'm fine. Think it's just been a lot for one day. Just wanna lay down for a bit." You bend down to kiss his cheek, and he kisses you too, the man's eyes glued to your body the whole time.
"See you, Joel. Nice to meet you." You say to the man, who nods and smiles at you, offering you his hand again, making your cheeks burn at the feeling of them.
ππ§°β
You wake up with a soft knock on your bedroom door.
You open your eyes to find Frank, who invites himself in, sitting on your bed.
"Hi, darling. How are you? Tired already?" He mentions for you to sit next to him, which you do, snuggling next to him, hugging his side.
"Doing fine. Better anyway." He looks down at you, worried. "Oh, what was wrong? You didn't say anything."
You don't know how to explain, but you try anyway.
"I don't know, I felt weird since they arrived. Felt this thing on my stomach, like I would throw up. But now I think it's gone."
"Oh, sweetheart-" your dad starts, but he stops when Bill and the man stand on your doorframe. The man looks at you from behind your dad, up and down, smiling softly at your sleepy face and hair. "Frank, cover her up, please."
He does it, covering your body β previously covered only by a tight tank top and an underwear β with your blanket. "I'm showing Joel his room. Baby, are you feeling better?"
You nod and smile. "Good, was worried about you. Now, keep your door closed. Locked, please." Bill says as he closes your door and leaves with the man.
You grunt, feeling the same thing again. "Ugh, here it is. Not gone yet. Dad's food never made me feel like this before." You snuggle closer to Frank, who sighs and hugs you tighter.
"Oh, honey pie, you're not sick. It wasn't dad's food." You look at him.
What could it be, then?
"But don't worry, Tess already left and Joel is just hanging over for a while to help me and dad around with some fixings."
You grunt, feeling funny again. Thinking about Joel leaving and never seeing him again makes your heart sink down on your chest.
ππ§°β
You spend the next day inside your bedroom, watching the man work with your dads, fixing some things on the exterior of your house and helping them with things they can't do by themselves anymore.
Watching him carry heavy things around and laughing with your dads made you uncomfortable. Your body begging you for some relief.
So you give it some. You lift your skirt and touch yourself over your panties. Steady and fast circles around your clit until you cum, the man being the only thing in your mind.
You imagined what it would feel like to have him hold you, his skin touching yours, what kissing would feel like. How he'd hold you on his strong arms, how he'd move you around.
You wondered if he looked like the men from the magazines you found on your dad's car, and what he would to with it, what it would be like, what it would feel like.
As soon as your high was over you heard your name being yelled from outside. It was already dark, but you were close to the window and got worried they may have seen you.
You'd be fucked if they did.
You looked down and found all three of them looking at you. Bill was the one to speak.
"Baby, can you cook us something for dinner, please? We're gonna be here for a while still." You hoped your voice would come out okay.
"Sure daddy, be right down." You answered, Joel's gaze weakening for a split.
"Thanks, love." Frank said and they went back to work.
ππ§°β
You felt funny while you cooked dinner. Specially since you knew Joel was gonna eat. You couldn't pull yourself out of him while you cooked, thinking about how tired and hungry he must be, and how you'd be the one providing food for him. How you'd be making him feel good after working all day.
It makes you want to do it more, to do things for him, help him feel better after a tiring day.
You're so lost on him you don't notice when he walks in the kitchen, watching you for a while in silence. You drop a wooden spoon on the floor and bend over to grab it, your skirt fully lifting and leaving your whole ass on display.
He chokes on his saliva, startling you, and you get up, looking at him. "You always wear that around the house?" He asks, talking directly to you for the first time since you introduced yourself the day before, his voice a little broken.
"Yes, she does. Because she's our daughter and it's usually only us around here." Frank says out of nowhere. "But I told her she should wear more appropriate things while Joel's around, didn't I, love?" You blush.
He did, but this was literally the first time you had someone over, so you forgot. And honestly "appropriate" isn't exactly clear. You weren't naked, and your clothes were never questioned before.
"Sorry, dad, I'll go change. Can you watch the pans for me, please? Thanks." You say rushing out of the kitchen, avoiding Joel's gaze.
"You back the fuck off, alright? Bill will fucking murder you if he sees you watching her like that." Frank says after a bit, while Joel grabs a cup of water.
"I wasn't watching her, I'm sorry. Just stopped and she dropped it. I just wanted some water. Besides, there's Tessβ" Frank looked at him from over his shoulders while he stirred a pan with pasta. "Don't shit me, Joel. Tess told me about you two. I know you're not a couple anymore." Joel shifts on his feet. Tess shouldn't have said anything.
"But she's young, and she's used to only have us around the house. She got overwhelmed by you, and I believe you may be a good man, but not for my daughter." Joel's heart aches a bit. He thinks of Sarah, how livid he'd be if a man ever looked at her the way he found himself looking at you.
"And again, be thankful I was the one to walk in and not Bill. You'd be buried outside by now. If he left anything to be buried, that is."
You walk back in, in a sweater and pants. Bill walks in at the same time, drenched in sweat, panting quietly.
"You're sick, honey? Why are you wearing this?" You look over at Frank, who rolls his eyes. "She just wanted something more cozy, Bill. She's alright." He looked at the three of you, his gaze softening at you. "Okay then, I like that you're fully covered." He says, eyeing Joel for a second before looking at you again.
"I'm gonna shower and then we can eat. Thank you, darling. It smells amazing." He kissed your cheek and went to his bedroom.
"Love the outfit, sweetheart. Don't listen to your dad, this is perfect. Joel, why don't you go take a shower too so we can all eat together?" Frank says.
Joel looks at you, then at Frank, then grunts in agreement and goes upstairs.
"Dad, is it bad that I... Think about him?" You ask, genuinely concerned. Frank turns the stove off and looks at you. "What do you think about him, love?"
You feel your cheeks on fire.
"I don't know." You respond, not wanting to welcome your dad on your daydreams. He comes towards you, cupping your cheeks loosely.
"My love, do you think about him like dad and I? You you think of doing to him what you see us do? Kissing, hugging?" He asks low, afraid somehow Bill could hear them.
"I do." You whisper, pushing yourself into his embrace, hugging him tight and snuggling your face on his chest. "I think about what kissing him would be like. What having his hands on me would feel like. What hugging him would feel like." You say, knowing well that you can't lie to your dad.
"Darling that's perfectly normal. Joel is a beautiful man, the only man you've seen besides me and dad." He waits for a response, but you have nothing to say.
"Just... There's a lot you don't know, okay? A lot we didn't think we had to tell you about. And your dad and I are just afraid someone might take advantage of that." He hugs you tighter, hoping Joel wouldn't be that someone.
π§°πβ
After dinner, you help Bill with the dishes while he chats with Frank and Joel, who are still at the table. They're talking about construction, cars and resources, and you're just listening to them.
Then you all go to bed and you lock your door, just like your dad asked you to.
Before you could sleep, though, you let the man take over you again.
You insert two fingers inside you and circle your clit desperately, trying to just get some relief so you could go to sleep. Softly, you moan the man's name when you cum, and pray he couldn't listen to you.
Your water bottle was empty, and you had to go downstairs to refill it. "Fuck!" You said, if one of your dads saw you outside your bedroom, they would kill you.
But your throat was dry and you didn't want to grab water from your bathroom. So you had no choice.
You almost fell on top of Joel when you opened your door and found him standing right in front of you.
"What are you doing here?" Your voice high and scared.
"Thought I heard you call me, came to see if you needed my help for something." His voice low and heavy, like his words were thick and hard to let out.
"I wasn't calling you. I don't need help, I was just going to grab some water." You respond way too fast, barely taking breaks between your words.
"Hum, I could swear I heard your pretty voice call my name just a minute ago. Joel, Joel, Joel. Multiple times. Didn't know you did those things, baby." His expression is serious and dark, looking down as he towers over you.
He wasn't going to try anything. But since you were calling him...
Fuck.
"I... I wasn't calling you. I'm sorry, I have to get back to bed." You try to close the door, but he doesn't let you, easily keeping it open with his forearm.
"But you weren't sleeping, were you, baby?" He steps in, forcing you to walk back inside. "I'm sorry. I just... I⦠I saw you and you were looking at me and I⦠I shouldn't, you barely even spoke to me, I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
He closes the door behind him.
"Oh, I don't mind angel, I'm not mad at you. My name never sounded sweeter. But I can't sleep now. Not now that I've heard it." His arm snakes around your waist, and he pushes you close.
He connects his mouth to yours, and you finally learn what a kiss feels like. His beard makes you flinch at first, scratching and almost hurting the sensitive skin of your face.
You're used to your dads' beards when you kiss their cheeks, but Joel's feels different, it hurts in a way that makes you want to feel it even more.
You moan into it and your body softens under his embrace, your legs give in and you're only standing because he's holding you. Your hands grab his back and his hair, and you moan into his mouth when his tongue opens it's way into yours.
His arms hold you tight and squeeze you, his large hands hold you you firmly, and you feel like that's what was missing for you all along. To be in Joel Miller's arms.
He is intoxicating.
His perfume, woody and different from the ones your dads have, mixed with his natural essence make you dizzy. His strong arms hold you in a way you didn't know you needed to be held. His mouth explores you with such hunger, such passion, and you've only just met.
It makes you wonder what it would be like if he loved you, if he cared for you. How much more of this intensity you'd feel from him.
You deepen the kiss, exploring his mouth with hunger and curiosity, all while doing your best not to drown in saliva.
He breaks the kiss and goes to your jawline and neck, smelling, kissing and biting you, his beard scratching you deliciously, making you moan.
"You smell so good, baby, you're so soft. Been a long time since I saw a girl like you. All pretty and sweet for me like this." He says as he runs his hand through your hair, his rough fingers caressing your scalp, pulling your head back to make more room for his lips.
You feel something hard pressing on your lower belly and you pull away. "Wait, Joel. I think there's something in your pocket." He looks down and laughs, grinding himself on you.
"This, baby?" His voice low and breathy. You nod and he looks at you, his breath heavy, his brows furrowed, now showing more confusion than arousal.
He lets you go abruptly, looking puzzled at you, analyzing you. "How old are you?"
You frown.
"I don't know, actually." You respond.
"What? How⦠how do you not know?" He turns his head, even more confused.
It was confusing, you'll give him that.
"Well, my dad, Bill, found me on a road a few days after the outbreak. After FEDRA evacuated the town. He said I could walk and speak, but was still really small. So he thinks I was around 2 or 3." He looked at the roof and then at you, doing the math in his head. "So you're 23?"
You nod. "Yeah, probably."
He puts his hands on his hips, looking at you and at the door.
"And... How do you not know what this is?" He asks mentioning the tent on his pants.
Oh... Maybe because you've never seen a man other than your dads, and you've never fucked any of them. Maybe that's why?
"Well, you and Tess are really the first people I see that are not my dads, and, well, the people I knew before them. Y'know, not a lot of friends to have around here." You say moving your arms around, mentioning the empty town and all the emptiness surrounding it.
You get close to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and talking close to his ear, your hands roaming all over his back and hair.
"But I know somethings. Things I listened in songs, read in books. Things I want you to teach me." You say, touching his crotch, his cock throbbing inside his jeans.
But he thinks about your dads again, about you, and how he'd kill the man who tried anything similar with his own daughter.
"Sorry, baby. I can't. Your dads didn't tell me this. They said they had people come over before, just never stay. I thought you maybe got with one or some of them."
"You're the first." You say, not fully aware of all the weight the sentence has.
"I can't be your first one." He says, making you furrow your brows.
He pushes you away, walking towards the door.
"Why not?" you ask.
"Because you don't know me, baby. You're young and you need someone who knows you, and who you know. Someone who'll take care of you like you need." He sounded serious and decided. His voice deep and just slightly above a whisper.
He was kinda into the idea of you being innocent and naive. But when you're this untouched, it feels too much for him.
"But I want you." You say, returning his whisper. "I've been thinking about you ever since you showed up. Sometimes I feel this burn, this ache between my legs, and I used to fix it by just touching it. But today when I did it, my mind kept going back to you." You confess, and he swallows hard, his Adam's apple moving slowly as he did.
You see his eyes wander back around your body, and his gaze get darker again. But as soon as it darkens, he sees your face and it softens.
He turns towards the door, walking towards it.
Noticing how your words affected him, you keep going.
"I was calling you, Joel. I was doing it because of you." His body stiffens and he stops, his hand on the door handle. He turns his head to look at you over his shoulder.
"Please." You say, your voice sincere and sweet.
He turns back around, looking at you like you were tearing him apart. "I'm sorry. Can't do this to you. I don't know if I know how to be gentle anymore, I don't want to hurt you."
"If it's not you then who is it gonna be? My dads trusted you enough to let you inside our house, to let you sleep here with us. That has to mean something." You say, and he moves his jaw from side to side.
He knows he can't, but you're right. Someone could do worse than him trying his best to be gentle.
"Baby, if I have you, I won't want anyone else to have you after. If I'm your first one, I'll be your only one." He said, getting close to you.
"I don't know if I'll want anyone else after you." You respond, walking close to him and caressing his hair with your fingers. "I know I don't regret my first kiss." You whisper, your face close to his, and his eyes go darker, staring into yours.
He was your first kiss too.
"Could've been more gentle?" He asks with an embarrassed smile.
"It was perfect." You respond with a smile.
He looked at your lips, his hand coming to cup your cheek. You snuggle your face onto his hand, enjoying the texture and warmth of it.
"But I mean it. I can't do it. Not right now." You whimper, and he gives you a faintly stern look, his fingers pulling your hair behind your ear.
"Told you. You don't know me. I'll be around for a few more days. We'll be patient and see how this goes." Your face must be the one of a lost puppy by the way he's looking at you.
"Just don't want you to regret it. Can't just sleep with the first man you ever see, princess." He says with s laugh. The nickname makes your knees weak.
He kisses your cheeks, both of them, and let's go of you, grabbing your water bottle. "I'll fill it for you. Don't want your dads seeing you downstairs."
After a few minutes he comes back, finding you sitting on your bed. He places the bottle on your nightstand.
"Sleep tight." He wishes, leaning down to kiss your forehead.
"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" You ask, feeling vulnerable already being so clingy to the man.
He holds your chin, caressing your jaw.
"I'll be here for a whole while, angel. Promise I won't go anywhere before we talk about this, okay?" You nod, getting up to lock the door after him.
He gives you a little kiss on the cheek and leaves, and you go back to bed, letting anticipation bloom on you, feeling like you're gonna melt.
To think that he was indeed also thinking about you, that he wanted you the same way you wanted him, made you feel funny, like you're gonna scream.
It made you revisit all the times you caught his gaze, everytime you saw his eyes go from your body to your eyes when you looked at him.
How maybe he did the same in his bedroom, thinking about you the same way you thought about him.
Just picturing that makes you feel funny, and you smile to yourself. Feeling all special to be noticed by a man like him: strong and resourceful, the things your dads taught to be β and to look for.
Your dads were worried he would take advantage of you. But on his grand opportunity to do so, he said no and told you to go back to sleep.
β¨ Pairing: Raider!Joel Miller x afab! Non-Innocent reader
π₯ Synopsis: Your group gets surprised by Joel's, and when one of you refuses to give when what they want, Joel takes all of you back to his base, keeping you to play housewife in his house.
β¨ Features: π Age gap (Joel in his early 50's, reader in her mid 20's), kidnapping, teasing, a bit of exhibitionism (just for him, though), oral sex (m receiving).
π₯ Word count: Over 3k.
β¨ About this: This is the first half of a two part story. I wanted to explore Raider!Joel meeting a non innocent reader, because let's be honest here, we eat this shit up, so we wouldn't be exactly sad if that man did it to us.
π₯ Author's note: This one also took me forever to figure out. I wanted him to have a kinda toxic but soft vibe. Like, he's not forcing you, clearly, but he also touches and undresses you before you ever give him any clear sign you're okay with it. He's gross but in a delicious Joel Miller way.
You know it's wrong to enjoy this, God wants to believe you know it. But you can't help yourself.
You and three others from your group were on a run for supplies when three cars full of men surprised you. They were armed and said you just had to give them all your supplies and no one would get hurt.
When one of the men with you didn't want to cooperate, things went south and the leader of the group got out of one of the cars. He shot a warning shot and yelled. All of his men went quiet and gave him space to talk to your people.
The second you saw the man you had to swallow back a moan.
His broad shoulders, huge hands β God if your fingers felt good, imagine those β, his God-like sculpted face and nose, his fluffy hair, his belly showing through his shirt.
Everything your eyes land on make you feel more dizzy.
Your thoughts must have been painted all over your face, because the second the man looked at you, he smirked.
You didn't look away, though.
You held his stare, smiling back, forgetting for a second the situation you were on. The fact that his men were looting your group. The fact that he was the type you usually shot right between the eyes without faltering.
You were more focused on him, on his face, his smile. His figure. How much the big men around him respected him.
Shooting his pretty face was the last thing on your mind.
He looked at all of you again, making himself loud and clear while sounding assertive and calm. His voice making you lightheaded.
"Now, we were going to take your stuff, maybe punch one or two of you on the face β not you though, sugar." He says, turning to point and smile at you. "And then leave and let you go." He says looking back at everyone.
"But when you point a gun at my men? That fucking destroys the deal, man!" He β sounding surprisingly calm β tells the man who denied to give his men your supplies.
"So here's the thing. We're gonna take you back to our place and we'll keep you there with us for a while. You'll work for us and then maybe, if I feel like you deserve it, I'll let you go." He looks at you again, analyzing you, up and down. Then stopping at your face. "I'm sure you'll all have great use for us." He says with a warm smile. Your eyes falter and your cheeks burn.
They blindfold you, so you don't see where their base is. And the big man is the one doing it to you. Your heart beating all over your body when you feel his warmth and his chest on your back.
He definitely did not need to be this close to you to do this.
"This is just a formality, alright, darling? Just to be sure." His hands are rough, but his touch is soft against your skin. He carefully wraps the fabric around your face, "Is it too tight?" he whispers low and breathy on your ears.
You hate it, but you let out a weak and pathetic moan, almost giving in and letting your body melt back against his chest. "Mmn. Huh hm. It's fine."
You can fucking feel his smirk on the back of your neck. "Good."
β¨π₯β¨.
On your ride to his base you feel his hand on your thigh, just to keep you steady, according to him, and you hear him humming some songs from time to time.
On the darkness of your blindfold, all you could see was him, his face, his hair, his broad chest and back. You were going over the whole situation again, paying attention to the image your brain painted of him, hoping he'd look just as good when you saw him again.
Hoping your brain didn't lie to you, and he was actually all that.
β¨π₯β¨.
You didn't see the way to their place, but honestly you also don't remember exactly how you ended up here, on this specific situation. Standing on the entrance of his bedroom, watching him put your backpack down near his bed.
All you know is that you're here. And your people are somewhere on this same place.
And you need to keep them safe.
But they're fast to flee your mind when the man starts walking towards you. His gaze dark but soft at the same time. He pulls you softly by the forearm and closes the door behind you, standing at arm reach.
You feel like your heart is making cartwheels all over your body.
"I meant what I said, sugar. You'll all have to work here before I can let you go." You nod, looking up at him and doing your best to not bite your lip. "Tell me, what do you think you can do to make yourself useful around here?"
Now that he's closer, his smell finds it's way back to your nose, and you're pulled out of your brain immediately.
He looks bigger now so close to you, and you can't help but think about how he would feel like on top of you. His weight and his warmth pushing you into the mattress and... he's squinting his eyes, as if trying to read your thoughts, that damn smile on his lips again.
"Anything." You manage to say when you snap back. You're holding his stare the whole time. Not to appear tough or anything, you're just trying to memorize his face.
For later at night, when you're not with him.
"Anything can be many things, sweet thing." His hand comes to your hair, pulling it back and away from your face. An unexpected tenderness to his touch, and you feel like you could just melt right into his hand.
"Anything you want me to do. Anything to be useful for you." His eyes get darker and falter at your words, and you smile softly at his reaction.
His hand comes to your jacket, pulling it over your shoulders and off you, and part of you wished he didn't stop at it.
"Alright. Why don't you start by getting yourself clean and comfortable, then? You've had a stressful day, I'm guessing. Do you have any clean clothes?" he asks. "Uhum", you nod, "On my backpack."
"Bring it over to me." You walk towards it and pick the backpack up, handing it to him. He points you to the bathroom. "You'll find a clean towel there, I'll sort your clothes for you."
β¨π₯β¨.
You find him sitting on the edge of his bed, by a small pile of clothes when you come out, wrapped in his towel. "You understand I just can't let you go after your people pointed a gun at my men, don't you baby?" His voice is lower and more breathy than before, and God... You could listen to it all day.
All night.
"I do. I would do the same if it were the opposite. We'll cooperate and no one will get hurt." You say, looking into his eyes, watching him get up and walk towards you.
He's not used to people sustaining his gaze. All the huge and muscular men surrounding him too afraid to do it, and none of the women he's found along the way would dare to try.
But not you.
You like his eyes, you like that he doesn't drop his gaze, he doesn't hide his thoughts, and he's liking the same about you.
"Smart girl." He says, pulling the towel and carefully removing it from you.
He takes a step back and throws the towel on the bed, his gaze locked on your body. Analyzing your skin, your curves, your scars and marks. You notice a growing volume on his pants, and when you look back at his eyes, you find them already on yours, a cocky and so goddamn beautiful smile on his lips.
You just can't physically not respond his fucking smile.
"How about you start by grabbing that towel for me, baby? Don't want to sleep on a wet bed." He says, mentioning his bed for you. When you walk past him, he turns, taking a good look at your back, and you make sure to softly sway your hips for him.
You notice the towel is on the other side of the bed, and, instead of walking to the other side to grab it, you look at him over your shoulder, finding him on a stiff posture, eyes fixated on you, his fists tight by his sides.
You turn back and kneel on his bed, his teeth pressing onto one another so hard they could break, and his gaze weakening for a beat. You get fully on all fours and reach for the towel, making sure to lift your ass. A soft and wet, barely audible sound escapes from your pussy when you bend over and your folds get parted.
He grunts and you look back over your shoulder again, smiling at him. "Got it!" you say cheerfully, lifting the towel over your head and coming back, getting off his bed.
You roll the towel around yourself and look at him. "I noticed you have a lot of dirty clothes on your bathroom. Also I don't believe you cook a lot? Maybe I could help you around your house, you know. Make myself useful for you", you offer.
If you really had to stay over and work, you wouldn't mind if you got to spend the whole day on his house.
With him.
β¨π₯β¨.
The next day you went all over his house, cleaning what was dirty and planning what you could cook for him. It wasn't so bad after all. You just weren't as close to him as you thought you'd be, since he's spent the whole day away, keeping a few of his men surrounding his house all day to watch you.
You were cooking dinner when he arrived home. "Did you have a nice day, baby?" He asked, getting behind you and smelling your neck. His beard scratching you and sending a shiver down your spine, going all the way until pooling on your pussy.
"Just felt a bit lonely, but it was alright." He hums, running his hands on your hips. "A pretty girl like you should never feel lonely." You're wearing a dress he got you this morning, and he can feel that you're not wearing anything under it, groaning and lightly squeezing your hips.
You told him he had time to take a shower before dinner and he went to his bathroom.
When he comes back down, you're by the table; a few pots, a bottle of some alcohol he had, one cup and one plate on top of it.
"Where's yours?" He asks. His hair is wet and combed back, he looks clean and pretty, and you felt like somehow you were already used to him, to his presence. You spent your whole day thinking about him, counting the seconds to see him again, to feel your belly get all happy to see him.
"Oh, I, hum. I thought you'd like to eat alone." You say and he laughs, grabbing a plate and putting it across from his. "Been eating by myself for a while, angel. Want you to eat with me."
You sit down when he does and serve both of you, his eyes fixated on you while he pours both of you some of his drink. "Can I ask you something?" You ask when you start eating, and he responds without looking at you, only lifting his brows, as in 'go on'.
"Where is the rest of my people? What are they doing?" He doesn't get fazed by your question. "What are you doing here, peach?" He asks sipping on his drink.
You think for a beat. Was it a trick question?
"Honestly? Not sure. You said I'd help you, but I'm not sure with what." He looks at you. "Remember what you said? 'Anything'. Right?"
"Right. Anything. But I've only cleaned and cooked so far." He reads your face. His heavy eyes focused on yours.
"Is there anything else you wanna do, sugar?" He asks leaning back on his chair, chewing on his food. You foot looks for his legs, and he looks down when you touch his thigh.
"I thought you needed me for other things. Things more fun than what I did today." His breathing gets heavier, his brows lower and his voice somehow deeper.
"I can't, baby." Your own brows furrow.
"Why not?" You ask and he adjusts himself when your foot reach his crotch.
"I promised I'd let you go. If we do this, I won't ever wanna let you go. Then your people will come for my people, and I don't want to deal with that."
You sighed in an attempt to hold back a moan that still made its way out. You know it's wrong, God wants to believe you know it's wrong, but you can't help it.
You'd love to fucking see it. To see him fight over you, to see him do things for you. He must have done somethings before for his men to respect him so much, and you kinda hoped he'd do them because of you one day.
You press your foot on him.
"You don't think I'm worth it?" You tease, sweetening your voice and innocently looking at him, pouting your lips.
"That's exactly my problem, baby. I know you will be. That's why I can't." You almost feel bad for him, you can feel him hardening under your foot, but you can see he's doing his best not to give in.
"It's a paradox then. If I help you with it, you won't let me go. But if I don't help you, I'm not doing my job, so I can't leave either way. Guess we don't really have a choice here." His eyes find you again and he grins, grunting when you roll your foot over his cock.
He scratches the back of his head, removing your foot.
"Now, I don't want to force you to do anything, right, angel? That's not how I work around here." You nod, convincing him was easy enough.
"But you're gorgeous. And I haven't seen a pretty girl like you in ages, maybe never before. So if you really want to help, you can just be a good girl for me and let me look at you, alright?" He says, palming himself. "Anything to be useful." You repeat, and he smirks. "Alright. Just take your dress off and be pretty, huh? Shouldn't be hard for you."
You smile and get up. You see that he's stroking himself through his jeans and you bite your lower lip, unbuttoning your dress slowly, letting it fall down your shoulders before bending over to take if fully off.
His eyes are locked on your body and against all odds, you don't feel any shame.
Being on full display for him just makes you feral, like you could attack the poor man at any second.
He unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans, setting his cock free and sighing at the feeling.You have to clench your jaw so it doesn't drop.
He's big.
Big, thick and he looks so fucking deliciously heavy. His tip is glistening and swollen, leaking with his precum. You lick your lips at the sight, moving your chair away from the table to give him a better view and sitting back down.
He watches you and laughs. "You know, most girls would be all scared and shy on your position." He starts stroking himself, slow and deep, rolling his palm around his tip and going back down. He grunts while doing it, looking at you.
You scoot forward and lift your legs, bringing your knees close to your chest and spreading yourself for him. "But not you, right, baby? You liked my attention this whole time" He says, a hint of almost pain in his voice.
"I like how you look at me." You say with a smile, his eyes roaming your whole body, stopping at your pussy, already wet and glistening. "Oh, I can tell from here how much you like it, pretty."
You're already naked, already fucking soaked, and already on this situation. The man is already giving you his undivided attention, his dick is out, and the tension between you two is making it hard for you to breath. So why not fucking float along with his tide and enjoy yourself?
You mention to get up, but he shoots you a look. "No. You stay right there. Just sit and be pretty, remember?" He says in a stern tone hasn't used with you yet.
You pout, but sit back down.
"Let me see her again, baby. So pretty all wet for me." You get up and move your chair closer to him, his eyes following you like a hawk.
You sit down and spread yourself, gathering a bit of your leaking arousal and spreading it over his tip, earning a hiss from him, your soft hand a stark contrast to his rough one, distracting him for a beat. He lets you stroke him for a second, thrusting his hips slowly into your hand before snapping back and removing your hand.
He keeps stroking himself, eyes locked on your pussy, faltering when you start touching yourself, running your fingers through your folds and circling your clit, moaning softly.
He pushes his chair back for his hand to move more freely, his eyes fixating on yours. He looks good, so fucking good it makes you want to stay with him. To make sure he's okay, well taken care of, well fed.
Well fucked.
He drops his head back and you know you won't have a better chance of touching him again.
You drop to your knees, licking your lips while taking a better look at his cock. But you probably stare for too long, because after a while he groans, making you look up, finding his eyes on you.
"You're so fucking bad, angel." He pants.
"Uh um, I'll show you how good I can be for you." You say looking him in the eyes, your low and aroused voice surprising your own ears. He smiles and keeps stroking himself.
You look into his eyes and he puts his dick closer to your mouth. You lick his tip, just the tip of your tongue, just the tip of his cock, light enough to just taste him. You whine when he pulls away, pouting and furrowing you brows.
"You're gonna take what I give, huh? Tongue out." He says, that fucking stern tone back, just a little sweeter this time.
You do what he says and he slaps his tip on your tongue a few times, a wet sound filling your ears as your tongue numbing with his weight hitting it.
It was like he wanted you to do it, but he was doing his best to not let you. Sometimes he'd touch your tongue for long enough for you to lick him, or roll your tongue on him, and he'd furrow his brows in response, pulling away.
He grabs another bite of his food and moans when you roll your tongue around his tip, running his fingers through your hair. He didn't pull away this time.
"Shit. A man could get used to this really fast, angel." You smile and he grunts when you swallow his tip. "Fuck, baby, there you go, so good." He lets go of himself and his dick stays there, fully up and hard, his tip inside your mouth, all of his length pulsing for you.
He distracts you again, but eventually you grab him and notice how heavy he is β just like you knew he'd be β, so heavy you moan when you hold him. He runs his fingers through your hair, pulling on it. "C'mon, baby. Treat it real nice."
"You know I will."
You lick his tip, once again rolling your tongue around it. Then you lick underneath his tip, trying to touch every little corner of him with your tongue. You lift his dick and lick it from the base up, wetting your tongue as you go, keeping it spread and watching him as his eyes close shut.
You suck his tip into your mouth, sucking on it for a bit, enjoying the soft and wet texture on your tongue, moaning and moving your hips, looking for something to relieve the burn you felt between your legs.
You take more of him in, drooling on his length, slowly swallowing him. You do it carefully, but passionately, sucking hard and squeezing what you couldn't yet fit in your mouth with your hand.
His grunts and moans serving as fuel to you as you took him all the way, opening your throat to accommodate him and swallowing around his length, his fingers tightening their firm grip on your hair.
"Fuck, right there, wanna β grunt β be right there for a bit." He holds you in place, and you do your best to hold your gags back, but some pass and he groans when your throat convulses around him.
"So good, baby. So pretty all full of me like this." He says, and you manage to look up, finding his eyes hooded and filled with lust.
You moan around him and he lets you go, pulling out all the way back to his tip, taking a second to breath while you suck around it again, hard while you stroke him, turning your wrist as you go up and down, moaning at how his skin moves under your hand, at how soft his skin is, and how hard he is.
After a while you go back, swallowing him all the way and coming all the way to his tip, rolling your tongue around it and earning a groan from him. He holds you by your hair, keeping your head high as he starts thrusting inside your mouth. Slow and careful at first, but hard and rough once he finds less resistance.
Your hands go to his stomach and chest, to help you support yourself. You run them over his belly, indulging in how big and strong he is, in how you can feel his muscles flex to fuck your mouth.
"You don't let anyone else do this to you, you hear me? This mouth is mine, only I can be inside it, only I can have fun with it."
You moan in agreement. You don't want anyone else, you don't think anyone else will even look appealing to you anymore. He's burned himself as your favorite even before he looked at you, as soon as he walked out of that car, as soon as you landed eyes on him.
"Don't let any boys do this to you after you leave, baby. Would hate to know you had someone do this to you besides me. Only I can fucking use your pretty face like this."
You moan again, felling your arousal leak from your pussy. He stops and you sit back on the floor, recovering your breath for a second. He leans forward, fixing your sweaty hair and kissing your forehead, stroking himself once again.
You open your legs, and he looks at it. "Fuck, so fucking wet, baby." He says, panting.
"All ready for you." You say, tangling your words with a moan.
"All fucking ready for me, bet you feel so good. Would squeeze me so fucking nice, baby, would get fucking lost inside you, wouldn't wanna leave anymore."
You giggle, "Would be so happy being all full with you all the time." He smirks.
"Get back here, baby, this mouth making me happy enough for now." You do so, getting up with your mouth already open and your tongue already out, like you're starving and he's the best looking meal you've ever seen. When you're at his reach his hand comes back to your hair, guiding you to his dick.
You take him all the way, deep, hard and fast, properly fucking him with your mouth. His grip on your hair both forces you down on him and helps you stay steady while you focused only on making him cum.
"You're just trying to help your people, huh?" he laughs when you pull away, catching your breath. "Anything for them, yeah. Only thing on my mind right now." you respond his laugh.
"Oh, I know of better things for you to keep in your mind, pretty." he says in a sigh when you roll your tongue around his tip again.
You keep going, hard and deep, and soon enough β too soon, almost. You could keep going all day long β you feel him start to twitch inside your mouth, his chest losing its rhythm and his grunts getting louder.
You wrap your lips around his tip and suck him nice and hard, pumping him deep and fast with both your hands, twisting your wrists to increase the friction for him and looking into his eyes.
"Fuck β shit. Gonna, fucking β grunts βcum, baby. You're gonna take it for me? Huh?" He asks, and you smile, nodding and furrowing your brows when you taste him flooding your mouth. His hand pulling on your hair as he grunts and groans loudly, his hips instinctively thrusting into your mouth.
You keep sucking him for a while, your mouth full of his spend when he pulls your hair. "That's it, baby, thank you. Too fucking good for me." He says and you pull away, swallowing his cum and sitting back to breath a little. His hand once again comes to your hair and pushes it back, away from your sweaty forehead.
You get up and grab your plate, putting it on the fridge. "You're not gonna finish your food, baby?" He asks, finishing his pants, watching you pick up your dress.
"Already full, thank you." You say as you go upstairs, naked, making sure to sway your hips for him.
Now this should be more fun than just playing housewife.
π Features: Flirting, Joel blushing, reader being on her knees for him already, the girls being the sweetest, Joel being a super hot, super stressed, dad.
π About this: This is the introduction to how they've met. I keep coming hack to this story whenever Dirty Hands gets tricky, it's my little comfort baby.
The clock shows 6:20pm, your bakery β supposedly β closes at 6:30pm.
You finish serving the last table β that seems to have no hurry to leave β and go back behind your counter, watching your step to avoid the missing tile behind your cakes' display.
It's almost closing time and all your prayers are concentrated on asking for this couple to leave as soon as possible, as you still have to clean, prepare your doughs for tomorrow and close everything before finally going home.
And after a whole day of working β mostly alone β on your bakery, all you want is to get some rest.
You're on your computer looking up flooring options, and your search is interrupted by a man walking in, his large frame stopping in front of your cakes and carefully looking at all of them, his eyes focused on the options.
"Hi, good evening!" You greet him, getting up, your smile widening as you take him in. Large shoulders, fluffy hair, big eyes, sculpted nose.
He's wearing a blue jacket, his sunglasses are, for some reason, still on his head, and he has his backpack on his back.
"Hey, good evening." He greets you, his voice deep and soft, his eyes still glued to the cakes on your display. Frowning when he sees a particularly pretty one.
"Can I help you?" You ask sweetly, and he looks up at you for the first time, smiling back at you, cursing himself for taking so long to look at you.
"I'm sorry, I was just looking at them, they're all so pretty." He says, embarrassed by how he didn't even aknowledge you when he entered your store.
"No it's fine, I'll take it as a compliment." You say, laughing.
"It's not like they're the only thing worth looking at here. But they sure catch your attention." He says, watching your face, and you feel your cheeks on fire, your eyes almost watering at how flustered the man's got you.
"Thank you." You manage to say, your voice slightly smaller, and he looks back at the cakes.
"What flavor is this pink one?" He asks, and you bend over the display to look at it.
"Hmm, that's a pink velvet! With a custard and fresh strawberries filing." You say, and he frowns. The cake is covered in white and pink frosting, decorated with fresh strawberries.
"Oof, that sounds amazing." He says, and you smile.
"It's one of my favorites." You admit.
"Well, then I'll take it, please." He says, laughing.
"Alright. Is it a gift?" You ask, reaching for the packagings, and he shakes his head.
"No, no. It's for me." He says, and you grab a regular box.
"Well, you do like cake then, huh?" You joke as you take the cake to pack it, and he laughs at it.
"I do, yeah. But this one's for my birthday." He says, laughing, and you smile at him.
"Oh, why didn't you just say it?" You ask. "Happy birthday! Did you know we have a special discount for people's birthdays?"
"Uh, you do? Well... but I don't really want to show you my ID. Don't like to think about the number there, you know?" He laughs, his pretty eyes scrunching at his own words.
"How about I take your word?" You suggest, and he smiles. "I mean, you're either telling me the truth or you really like cake. Or you're just hungry, I mean, your job looks like really heavy work." You say, mentioning his clothes, covered in concrete and paint.
"Those would be three checks. I do love cake, and I am starving because of work. But it is also my birthday." He says.
"Well, then you do deserve the discount." You say, closing the bag. "It'll be 22 dollars." You say.
"Alright." He says, reaching for his wallet on the front pocket of his worn out jeans. "Here." He hands you 30 dollars, and you grab his change.
"Here you go." You hand it to him.
"Oh, no. Keep the change, please." He says.
"No, c'mon. Birthday discount, remember?" You say, almost pouting.
"Here says the cake costs almost 35 dollars." He says, leaning to read the price tag on the display, scrunching his eyes so the numbers become clear. "You were generous enough with your discount." He adds, grabbing the bag.
"Because it's your birthday discount!" You say playfully, extending your arm further, and he pushes your hand away.
"I said keep it." He says firmly, making you flinch, your breathing getting stuck in your throat. "How about I take the discount and you take the change as a tip for you?" He suggests, and you smile. "Keep it." He insists, smiling.
"Thank you." You say, putting the change back, a shy and uncontrollable smile stuck on your face.
"Thank you." He says, looking at you, his eyes somehow even softer. "'Till next time." He says, and you take a deep breath as he turns around.
"Hey, sorry?" You call, and he turns back β a bit eagerly, you could swear β, looking at you, a smile on his lips.
"Yeah."
"You do work in construction, right?" You ask. "I mean, your clothes and all."
"Well, they don't let me lie." He jokes. "I'm a contractor. Was just working across the street." He explains.
"Do you work with renovations? Like, changing floorings, fixing drywalls, changing lights and custumized furniture?" You ask.
"I do, yeah. I have a company, actually. I work for myself." He says. "Although furniture isn't exactly my field. But I know some good people who do it, I can give you their number." He offers.
"Yeah, I'd love that." You say, and he puts the cake back on top of your counter, reaching for his wallet.
"Here." He hands you two cards. "This one's mine, this one's a guy that builds all sorts of furniture. Almost all kinds of materials, I work with him all the time, you can trust him." He says.
"Joel Miller?" You ask smiling, looking at him, his cheeks reddening when he hears you say his name.
It sounds so goddamn sweet on your lips.
"Yeah." He says. "You just give me a call and I come over to talk, see what you wanna do, no commitment."
"Sure! I just want to renovate the floorings, fix some broken stuff." You say. "I'll call you before the weekend so we can talk better." You promise.
"Great. Can't wait to hear from you." He says, grabbing his cake again. "See you." He says, turning around, and you wave goodbye, but he turns as soon as he reaches the door. "Will you call from this number?" He asks, pointing at the number printed on the bag.
"Yeah, that's my professional number." You say, smiling.
"Alright. Just so when you call I know it's you." He says. "Make sure I won't miss it." He adds, smiling.
"Thank you." You smile back.
"Well, now I'll go. See ya." He says, this time actually leaving the store.
You watch as he gets into a black truck, and almost jumps when he looks at you, giving you a little wave β that you're eager to mimick β as he starts his car, driving away.
Your cheeks hurt as you can't control your smile. A beautiful, kind and funny man just walked in, bought a pink cake β with no problem with the color β, maybe flirted with you and now you have his number? And he said he'll make sure he won't miss your call?
God bless the couple that made you stay open for a little longer.
And just as you think of them, they come towards you to pay, thanking you for the food and complimenting your pastries. You thank them β although it's not just for the nice words β and close soon after they leave.
You put all the chairs up, clean the floors and go to the kitchen, where you prepare some of your dough for the next day.
Now you're even more excited to start the renovations around your bakery.
The next day you try to focus on your chores and not call him, and he spends the whole day rushing to his phone and sighing when he picks it up and sees it's not you.
The day after that you can't help it anymore, though.
Not only because you're dying to see the man again β and make sure he wasn't just a mirage your tired brain came up with to distract you from how tired you were that day β, but also because you couldn't stand anymore having to ditch loose flooring pieces, the broken doors of your balconies, the dying ceiling lights.
So you take a deep breath, almost shaking as you leave your mixer mixing your brownie batter and go to the open patio to call him.
His phone rings while he gives Ellie, his toddler, her breakfast β or tries to, anyway.
"Ellie, baby, c'mon, help daddy, your sister's gonna be late for school."
"No!" She laughed, amused with her dad's suffering. He lets his head fall down, defeated.
"Alright, then you're going to daycare with just apple juice on your tummy, because we really need to leave now." He says, and she cheers. "Sarah, honey, are you ready?" He asks his four-year old when she comes downstairs, and she nods enthusiastically.
"Yes, daddy! Can we go now? I don't wanna be late, Mrs. Roberts gives a star for who arrives early." She says. "And I haven't gotten one in over two days!" She says, frustrated.
"Did you brush your teeth?" He asks her while he starts washing the dishes.
"Yes! Of course I did." She says, her tone not even convincing herself.
"Let me check." He says, leaning down, and her eyes widen. "C'mon, come here." He calls, beckoning for her to come close to him, and she sighs.
"I'll go brush them now." She says, defeated. "But then we're leaving!" She yells the last part as she runs upstairs.
He finishes the dishes and cleans Ellie, removing her from her highchair. Just when he's about to take her to the bathroom to brush her teeth, his phone rings, and he sits Ellie on the table to see who's calling him.
He sees the unsaved number and remembers it faintly from your bakery bag, so he looks around, trying to see if he can find it.
"Ellie, don't move, alright, baby?" He tells her, who doesn't even aknowledge him, too busy playing with her toys.
He lets go of her and opens the cabinet where he keeps his plastic bags, looking for the pink one from your bakery. He finds it and sees the number is indeed yours.
"Fuck." He curses quietly. "Tommy!" He yells, calling for his brother. "Come here, I need to pick up the phone, quick." He screams, and Tommy shows up almost immediately.
"Hey." His brother says, clearly just out of bed.
"Watch Ellie, don't let Sarah come after me." He says, walking to his backyard.
He doesn't like his clients knowing how agitated and insane his personal life can be with two small kids and no one around to help. So he always tries to make work calls as quiet as he can.
"Hi!" He says, almost too excited as he picks up the phone, thanking God he made it in time.
"Hi! Joel?" You ask, and he smiles when he hears your voice.
"Yeah, it's me." He says, and you can almost hear the smile on his lips.
"Oh, hey. I'm from the bakery where you bought that pink cake?" You ask, and he takes a second to respond, trying to not make it obvious that he's spent the previous day running to his phone, hoping to hear from you.
"Oh, yeah, I remember! You said you wanted new floorings and furniture, right?" He asks, shooting Tommy a look when he grabs Sarah last minute so she doesn't go after him.
"Yeah, that's me!" You say, feeling awkward. Trying to remind yourself that it's just a professional call, and you don't have to be so nervous. "Could you come over? As soon as you can? I wanted to talk about the renovations." You say, and he nods, only after a second realizing that you can't see him, feeling stupid.
It's just a work call, for God's sake, chill out, Joel Miller.
"Sure, I can be over today, does that work for you? Maybe after you close, or maybe tomorrow before you're open?" He suggests, trying not to sound too eager.
As silly as it sounds, you can't help but think about how you're dressed, what your hair looks like. You stop in front of a window, checking yourself, and only when you make sure you won't die if he sees what you look like today, you can confirm.
"Today would be great! I'm closing at six-thirty, so you could come over at seven, if that's ok? So I can clean a bit before we can talk."
"Sounds great. I'll be there." He agrees.
"Alright, see you then." You say, your beating faster than it has in a long time.
"See ya." He says, running back inside.
"Sure that was a work call?" Tommy teases him, and Joel shoots him a look.
"Daddy, c'mon!" Sarah says, pulling his arm as soon as he closes the backdoor.
"Come here." He kneels down with one knee, holding her shoulders. "Let me check." He says, and she laughs as she blows his face, a tutti-frutti smell invading his nose. "Great, baby, thank you." He says, kissing the top of her head.
"Can we go now? I don't wanna be late." She asks, sounding almost sad.
"We're going, honey. Let's go." He says, picking Ellie and her backpack up, grabbing Tommy's shoulder. "Listen, I need you to go see the Gellers tonight, I have something else." He says, and his brother sighs.
"C'mon, man, not the fucking Gellers." He begs.
"Gellers. You. Tonight. 8pm. Don't mess it up, Tommy!" He yells, leaving the house. "Girls, say bye to uncle Tommy."
"Bye uncle Tommy!" They both say, waving him goodbye.
"Bye, girls! Be good, huh?" He says, and Joel closes the door.
...
Joel never missed having a mom for the girls. No matter how tired and overwhelmed he may get taking care of them by himself β mostly, at least. He could never risk adding someone to the equation and getting his girls hurt in the process.
"Daddy?" Sarah says when he comes back to the car after dropping Ellie at daycare.
"Yes, baby." He says sweetly, turning back to look at her.
"Your shirt's inside out." She says, laughing, and he looks down at himself. He grabs the steering wheel and dramatically drops his head on it, making her laugh even harder.
Having someone to share this life with would be nice, though.
π₯ Pairing: Single dad, young Joel Miller x Baker! Reader
β¨ Setting: No Outbreak Au! Joel's the biological father of Sarah and Ellie.
π₯ Synopsis: Joel starts working on the renovations around your bakery. But he's willing to do more than just fixing your floors for you.
β¨ Features: Joel and reader flirting some more, reader being helplessly down for Joel (and Joel eating it UP), a lot bit of a competency thing from reader.
π₯ Word count: 4.2k
β¨ About this/Author's note: You guys seemed to really like part one, I can't tell you how happy I got with all the comments on it π€§ This one is pure fluff and flirtation. I love watching them being all awkward and giggly next to one another. It's cooking, friends, and they know it.
You hear a soft sound while you're putting the chairs up so you can sweep the floor. After you don't pay it any mind, you hear a proper knock on your door, and it startles you, making you jump and laugh while you walk towards the door, Joel laughing on the other side.
"Sorry, I tried not to scare you, but you didn't hear it the first time." He says, laughing as you make room for him to walk in.
"Not, it's fine. I just wasn't expecting you to be here early, I was trying to finish cleaning before you arrived." You explain yourself, locking the door back.
"Did you just close?" He asks, noticing the dirty dishes on top of a few of the tables.
"Well, my closing time is never my closing time, you know? People arrive five minutes before closing and I just can't tell them to leave." You say.
"And they never even ask what time you're closing?" He asks and you laugh.
"Some do. But they stay anyway." You say, and he shakes his head.
"Well, I'mma help you so we can sit down and talk, then." He says and you smile.
"Thank you, Joel." You say as he gives you no time to protest, going to the dirty tables and picking up the dishes, putting them on the counter, then going around and putting the remaining chairs on top of their tables.
"You know what's really unfair?" He asks, and you frown.
"What is really unfair?" You ask.
"You know my name and I don't know yours." He says, and you smile, saying your name.
"Nice to meet you." He says your name, and you love how it sounds on his lips.
"Nice to meet you too." You say, swiping a table so you can sit down.
...
"So, tell me about what needs to be done here." He says, sitting across from you.
"Well, first the floorings." You start. "They're... Not great. There are hollow pieces, uneven parts, it's all scratched and the color's not so nice anymore, the tiles of the bathrooms are stained and gross. So I'd like to change all of them." You say, and he nods, a cute pout on his lips as he keeps his eyes on you while you talk.
"Alright, fully changing the floorings will require a few hours to work on them and then a while of no one walking over them, is that ok?" He asks, leaning down to touch the floor.
"Yeah, no problem. Sundays I only open in the morning, just to sell some bread, but it's always the same people, so I could just let them know I'd be closed on Sunday. Maybe try and deliver them the breads if they want." You say.
"Great. I could start on Saturday night and let it rest until Monday morning." He says.
"You can do the whole flooring in just one night?" You ask, shocked.
"Yeah, my brother helps me out when I need it. I'll just bring him with me and we should be done quick. Maybe in like... Four or five hours" He says.
"Alright, that sounds good. I can work on the bread for delivery while you two do it. Does Saturday night works for you, though?" You ask.
"Yeah, any day that works for you works for me." He says.
"Oh, ok. It's just that, you know, Saturday night. Maybe you'd have something to do." You say.
"Trust me, I don't know what going out at night feels like for a very long time now. I'm always working at night." He laughs.
"I know. I miss it, but since I opened I haven't really been going out much neither." You admit.
"Well, now you're gonna spend the nights here watching me renovate your shop, how exciting is that?" He jokes.
'Oh, watching you be skillful and fix things, carry heavy stuff around and make my bakery look better? That's very exciting.' You think to yourself.
"Can't wait." You say, and he laughs.
"So, floorings we can't do much for at least a week, then. Is it ok if I work in one bathroom at a time? Maybe you keep just one, would people hate that too much?" He asks.
"No, I don't think so. I'm ok with that." You say.
"Alright, so I can work on it before the floorings. But you mentioned the walls and lights too?" He squints his eyes.
"Yeah. I think the old renter used to hang big and heavy stuff on the walls, so they're full of big holes." You say, and he looks around, frowning when he doesn't see anything. "I covered them." You say. "With the paintings."
"Why do you need me then? You're already so good at this." He jokes, and you laugh.
"I'm talented." You shrug, laughing.
"That you are. That cake?" He says, his eyes growing wide as he remembers the taste.
"You liked it?" You ask.
"Oh, I fucking loved it!" He says. "We ate the whole thing in like... Ten minutes." He says.
"Really?" You ask, your smile even bigger, even though you can't help but wonder... Who's we?
"Yeah, I mean, I'm sorry." He says, his tone suddenly getting serious as he leans over the table, touching your forearm, your chest suddenly filling with air. "But we destroyed that beautiful thing you created." He says, laughing.
"Oh, my poor baby." You whine dramatically, making a cry face, and he laughs.
"Do you do it all yourself?" He asks, and you nod.
"I do." You say.
"Well, you're in the right business, that was insane." He says, and you can feel your cheeks on fire. "Is there anything else?"
"What?" You ask, a silly smile stuck on your face, still flustered with his praising.
"Anything else you want to work on?" He asks, laughing.
"Ah, yeah, hum... There's an infiltration on the open patio, on the back." You say, and his eyes grow wide.
"And we're here talking about holes in the wall?" He asks, concerned, his laugh telling how funny he thinks your priorities are.
"I'm sorry!" You say, laughing at yourself. "They just annoy me so much."
"Can I see it?" He asks.
"Sure, it's over there." You point to the patio, getting up, and he follows you.
...
You remove the planter from the corner where the infiltration is and he bends down to take a look at it.
"Well, this is not looking good." He says.
"Is it too bad?"
"Yeah, the concrete is pretty wet, there may be a broken pipe underneath here." He says. "Was it like this when you rented?" He asks.
"Yeah. I asked my landlord about it and he said he'd get a guy over to check on it, but it's been a year and still nothing." You explain.
"He won't fix it." He says, like he's certain of it. "But neither should you." He says.
"But you said it's not looking good." You say, confused.
"Because it isn't." He says, getting up, standing close to you. "But it's not your problem, you shouldn't pay for it."
"I was gonna ask you about that." You say, your voice small as he's towering over you. He smells so good, he's so big, so... "Do you want something to drink?" You ask, your throat dry all of a sudden.
"Yeah. Do you have coffee?" He asks.
"Coffee at night?" You laugh, walking back inside.
"Still got a lot to do when I get home." He says, sitting down as you brew him some coffee.
"So, how much of what I have to do here do you think I should ask him to help me with?" You ask.
"Anything that's structural, permanent or semipermanent." He starts. "The infiltration, the tiles and the floorings, basically. You won't take the floorings with you when you leave, and they seem like they haven't been touched for a long time, so you're gonna up the value of the space. The infiltration is here since before you, so it's not your problem." He says. "He should fully pay for both, as far as I'm concerned."
"Don't know if he's gonna like to hear that." You say. You know the man, unfortunately.
"I can come over if you want. I can bring you a detailed budget and project plan, we sit down and talk to him." He offers.
"When, you think?" You ask, bringing him his coffee, sipping on some water.
"Thank you." He says, drinking it. "I just have to take a look around, take some notes, see what kind of materials you want, maybe in one week we can have it all. Maybe earlier." He says.
"Cool. One week is long enough to decide everything and tell everyone about the Sunday when I'll need to close."
"Alright. So I'll take a look around." He says.
"Ok, I'll be in the kitchen. Just call if you need anything." You say, getting up.
...
You finish what there was still left to do in the kitchen while Joel inspects the place. After you're both done you close everything.
"Do you want a ride?" He asks after you close the door.
"No, it's fine. I gotta run some errands, buy some groceries." You say. "Thank you, though."
"No problem. I'll text you tomorrow so we can talk floorings and tiles." He says.
"Uhum. Thanks, Joel. See ya." You say.
"See ya." He says, waving goodbye before crossing the street, going to his car, and you walk away.
For the next three days he texts you, you send him the type of floorings you want, he explains to you the durability and maintenance costs and efforts of each option, and you ultimately decide everything you want.
You set a meeting with your landlord, and Joel says he'll join you, like he promised he would.
...
"So, how do you want to do this?" He asks.
"I don't know." You admit. "What do you think?" You ask.
"I think you should talk to him, and I should just back up what you say." He suggests.
"What if he doesn't listen to me?"
"Then I'll deal with him." He says, his tone almost intimidating.
"Ok." You agree as you watch the man walk inside.
"Alright, now what's this about?" He asks, as sweet as always. His eyes roaming from you to Joel, and Joel hates how the man eyes you up and down.
"Hi, Michael, look, I wanted to do some renovations, like I told you, so I called Joel." You say. "And we talked about the floorings and the infiltration on the backβ"
"You're not expecting me to pay for it, are you sweetheart?" He cuts you, his tone condescending, and you see Joel's nostrils widen.
"Those were bad before I got in, you knew about the loose tiles, the worn out floorings, the infiltration was already pretty bad. And you know that." You say, angry. "You even said you'd fix that before it became too much of a problem." You add.
"Don't remember that." He laughs.
"Do you really wanna fucking do this?" Joel asks, his ever so deep voice even deeper, none of the usual softness coating it.
"I'm not here to talk to you, ok? You're just trying to make money out of this situation." Your landlord tries to sound convincing.
"If you don't work on this I'm gonna have you sign this aknowledgement notice saying that you were aware of the infiltration before she rented the space." Joel says, placing a paper on top of the table. "Because if that shit gets worse and she loses equipment, one of her clients or God forbid, she gets hurt... She's gonna sue you and then you're gonna lose a lot more money than you'd spend to fix it now." Joel says firmly, and you take a deep breath in. He's always so sweet to you, but the angry yet somehow professional tone he's using with your landlord makes you almost melt.
"How much is it gonna cost?" He asks, his bravery finding a short end on Joel's dominant presence.
"I made a budget for her. Found the most affordable materials and I separated my labor's cost on each part of what needs to be done here." Joel says, handing him a folder filled with numbers and project details.
"And what else needs to be done?" He asks you.
"Some of the lights are not working, even after I changed the lightbulbs, the floors are terrible, some of the tiles on the restrooms are falling down and the walls are filled with holes." You say. "Now I told Joel I didn't mind paying for part of this. Especially the floors, because I need a specific flooring, and it's a little more costly than other, worse options. So I suggest I pay for Joel's labor in all of these, except the infiltration and split part of the costs of the floorings with you." You add.
...
After some more back and forth you get to an agreement you're all satisfied with. Your landlord ends up paying for all the structural and permanent fixes, and Joel tells you that it's ok for you to pay him a bit per month.
On the first day of the renovations, Joel's working on the infiltration, breaking the old and humid concrete so he can access the pipe and see what's wrong with it.
He wants to make sure he at least changes the pipe today so the leaking stops, so he's outside, focused on finishing it as fast as he can.
But his work is interrupted when you scream from the kitchen.
"Fuck!" You scream, and he comes in running, his eyes and nostrils wide, his protection glasses still on, a cloth on his shoulder, his neck glistening with sweat, his hair slightly stuck on his forehead, his arms so big, his torso and belly slightly outlined on his shirtβ
"Are you ok?" He asks, scared, pulling you out of him.
"Me?" You ask, confused, finally finding his eyes.
"Yeah, you!" He says. "You screamed, I thought something happened to you."
"Oh, God, no! No, Joel, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry." You say, starting to laugh. "I'm just used to being here alone, I... I'm sorry, I'm fine." You explain yourself, and he laughs, his shoulders dropping as his body relaxes.
"Jesus, you almost fucking killed me." He says, a little out of breath while he removes his protection glasses.
"No, I'm sorry." You say, laughing, feeling funny for him caring about you.
"What happened?" He asks, leaning on the doorframe, still catching his breath.
"Oh, it was my fucking mixer. It was weird for a while and now it just doesn't wanna work anymore." You say, frustrated, going towards it to grab the dough that's inside it.
"Do you want me to take a look at it?" He offers.
"No, it's fine. You're already busy out there, I can call some technician tomorrow." You say, and he makes a 'tsk' sound, grunting at you.
"I'm already here, I'll see if it's something I can fix. You don't need to spend more money." He says, his look telling you he wouldn't let you say no as he uses the cloth he had on his shoulder to clean his hands.
"Thank you." You say. "Can you take that tray for me, please?" You ask, and he holds it in front of you, so you throw the dough in it and he puts it back on top of the table. "Thanks, gotta finish kneading it now." You say, setting a timer for fifteen minutes and starting to knead it.
He kneels down next to the mixer and uses his flashlight to inspect it.
"Did you smell anything burnt?" He asks, and you frown.
"Don't think so." You say, struggling with the dough.
"What did it do, exactly?" He asks, turning to look at you.
"It started kinda like... bumping, instead of it's constant movement?" You say, trying to see in his face if your words made any sense. "Like, usually it's pretty smooth, but then it started doing likeβ" you say, moving your arms to mimick it's bumpy and stiff movements. "And then it just stopped."
"Great demonstration, thank you." He says, his face showing pure satisfaction, and you laugh.
"Told ya. Talented." You joke, making him laugh before turning back to the mixer.
"Alright, I think I saw some oxidated parts. You'll probably have to change them, but I can oil them so you can use it until you get the new parts." He says.
"Sure, thank you." You say, and he goes outside, coming back with a can in hand.
He grunts as he kneels down next to the mixer, putting his flashlight in his mouth so he can properly oil the machine.
You watch him as he opens the can, throwing the lid on the floor besides him and wetting a brush, oiling the mixer parts.
His proactivity, his capacity, his availability to help you makes your knees weak, make you want to go to him β jump on him β, kiss him, thank him, fuck him.
Make sure he's well fed, well taken care of, make sure he's happy, he feels loved. Show him just how much you appreciate him.
"You got paper towels?" He asks, already up, startling you.
"Yeah, yeah, hum... They're over there." You point, almost out of breath. Both because of the kneading and your thoughts.
He rips two sheets of the paper and comes back, kneeling back down besides the mixer.
"I made a mess on your floor." He says, sounding apologetic.
"Ugh. How dare you, Joel? Make a mess while you fix my broken mixer for me?" You say, playfully. "How dare you try and not make me knead everything by β grunts β hand?" You say, grunting with the force you're making.
"That's a lot of dough, huh?" He says, standing next to you, watching you knead the dough from behind your shoulder before walking away to throw the paper away.
His smell β God his smell β, so woody and masculine, so strong and so gentle at the same time, the comforting warmth his body emanates, his soft and deep voice, so close to your ears...
All of him making you feel lightheaded, like you're drowning on the man, like you're incapable of peacefully coexisting with him without having him take over you.
"Yep, brioches, rolls, sweet breads." You say before the pause gets too long. "All the same dough." You add, almost jumping when your timer goes off. You look at it, turning your head, confused.
Has it been fifteen minutes already?
"It's this one." Joel says, coming back close to you with another timer in hand. "Croissants." He reads the name written on the tape you put on the timer, and you sigh.
"Shit." You say under your breath.
"What's wrong?" He asks.
"The croissant dough is chilling, and it's good to roll out and shape now, but I still got ten minutes on this one." You say, and he catches the distress and tiredness on your tone.
"Can I help you?" He asks, his voice soft and gentle.
"Don't tell me you know how to shape croissants?" You joke sweetly, looking up at him and laughing.
That'd be too much to ask.
"No, that's not I'm my book, sorry." He laughs, his own tone sweet and playful. "But I know how to squeeze things." He says, almost suggestively, you could swear. "I mean, how hard can this be?" He says, pointing at the dough with his palm.
"Oh, yeah? Go wash your hands." You say, and he goes, smiling.
He comes back, his sleeves rolled up, forearms looking obscene almost, his strong hands looking like they would feel so good, like they'd squeeze and hold you so nice...
"What do I do?" He asks, pulling you out of him again.
"You're gonna knead it like this. You lift it, then slap it down, then turn it and do the same. As soon as it gets less sticky you can start doing more like, pressing down and rolling it motions." You say, showing him how to do it.
"Alright, cute, thank you. Let the professional work now." He jokes, pushing you aside with his body.
"Ten minutes, huh? Professional." You say, and he gives you a desperate smile.
You grab your dough on the fridge and come back. Then you take the rolling pin and smack the dough a few times, startling Joel on the first one.
"Love for the craft, right?" He jokes, noticing the lack of delicacy on your movements.
"I like to think about some clients when I do this part." You say before thinking, and he laughs.
"Sounds therapeutic." He responds.
"The butter is actually pretty hard. Gotta break it a bit so I can roll it out." You explain, and he smiles.
He could listen to you talk about baking for as long as you wanted.
You start rolling the dough out, and he focuses back on his own dough.
"Look." He calls your attention. "Not sticking anymore."
"Now you can press and roll it." You say. "If you stand on your tiptoes you can put more force into it."
You set the a ruler at the top of your dough and start cutting it in long and thin triangles. But then your sight escapes from it, finding Joel at the other edge of the table.
His arms muscles flexing as he kneads the dough, his thick fingers piercing into it, his nostrils widening as he uses all his force and body weight β he learned so fucking fast β to work the dough. You're completely lost in him. Lost until you hear...
Your name?
You look at up at his face, a cocky smile on his lips.
"If you told me croissants we're about measurements I'd have done it." He jokes, his smile getting larger as your eyes widen. "Did you mess up your measurements? 'Cause I wouldn't have messed mine up." He teases, his puffy and red cheeks showing how hard he was holding his laughter back.
"No. No, I'm justβI'm just thinking here." You say, embarrassed to be caught mid daydream.
"Thinking, huh?" He asks, panting. "How much longer, again?" He asks, turning his head to look at the timer in front of him.
"Five more minutes." You say, laughing, and he shakes his head.
"Fuckβ alright, I take it back. This is hard, Jesus Christ." He admits, stopping as his muscles give up with his laughter.
"To think that I used to wake up at four in the morning to make these everyday." You say, and he shakes his head.
"That's what you were thinking about?" He asks, smirking.
"Kinda." You admit.
You weren't... But he doesn't have to know that.
"You always did it all by yourself?" He asks.
"Pretty much. At first I had my mom help me, but then I realized that overnight proofing and simplifying my menu was better than working all day everyday, and now it's just me." You explain. "Well, me and my mixer." You say, pitifully looking at it.
"I'll fix it, don't worry about it. It needs some rest too." He says. "And well, you have me while it's broken, so that's not perfect but... At least you're not alone." He says, smiling sweetly at you.
"It feels good. Having someone to talk to." You admit. "Though I'm starting to really worry about how many rolls I'm gonna have to make you to pay you for this." You say, and he laughs.
"Never enough." He says, going back to knead the dough.
As the renovations progress, Joel spends each day more and more time in the kitchen with you. Even after he fixed your mixer, he still found reasons to spend some time there talking to you.
And it's not like you didn't escape your own chores to go talk to him. Your favorite thing to do was using him as a beta tester for new or improved recipes.
...
"Do you like raspberries?" You ask, coming close to him while he's applying the new tiles to the bathroom.
"I do." He answers, smiling. His smile sweeter everytime he looks at you.
"Try this." You hand him a small spoon with a raspberry custard. "Is it a bit too sweet?" You ask.
"Just a little, but yeah." He agrees. "Is it for a cake?" He asks.
"Donuts." You say, and he pouts, closing his eyes like you've hurt him.
"Get away from me." He says, handing you the spoon, gently pushing, and you walk away, laughing.
...
"Joel, catch." You say on another day, coming under his stairs and throwing him a pesto roll.
"Fucking amazing." He says with a mouthful after taking a big bite.
"Thank you. I'm testing them." You respond, almost skipping on your way back to the kitchen.
"Make some garlic ones!" He shouts.
"No!" You respond from the kitchen.
"Why not?" He yells, almost disappointed, his voice chocked on the rest of the roll he shoved in his mouth, and you come out of the kitchen.
"Because people come on dates here all the time!" You yell. "I don't want them kissing each other with garlic mouths." You say, already closer to him.
"Hmm. Is the atmosphere here romantic?" He asks, screwing a lightbulb.
"Very romantic." You say, smiling up at him. "Don't you think?" You ask him, and he finishes with the light, that starts brightening all of his best features as he climbs down the stairs, stopping close to your body.
"The only way to know is having a date here." He agrees, his eyes scanning your face, a sweet and adoringly smile on his lips. "Youβ"
When he opens them, one of your times goes off.
"My donuts." You say quietly, and he smiles, watching as you walk back into the kitchen.
...
"Are you ok with my brother coming over tomorrow?" He asks, throwing his equipment on the back of his truck.
"Yeah, sure. I don't want you going through the whole floor by yourself if you can have some help." You say, smiling.
He nods and stands near you, awkwardly shifting on his feet.
"Can I... Ask you something? And it's ok if you don't want to, I mean..." He stutters.
"What is it?" You ask.
"Is it ok if I bring us something to drink tomorrow?" He asks.
"Sure, I was already gonna bake you some rolls anyway." You say. "But is it to give you energy or to celebrate after you're done?" You ask with a smile, and he frowns, making you tilt your head to the side.
"No." He laughs, scrunching his eyes, gathering the courage to just say it. "I just β laughs β It's not for me and my brother... I wanted to ask you out, but we're already gonna be here tomorrow, so I was thinking of asking if we can hang out here, since we're already gonna be... here." He says, speaking fast so he doesn't have time to second guess himself.
"So you're asking me out... But in?" You ask, playfully, trying not to sound too excited.
"Yeah." He laughs. "Exactly." He says, his cheeks puffy and red as he looks down at you. "But I mean, I get it if you don't want to, if you want to keep it professional, you know?"
"Hmm, professionalism is kind overrated." You say.
"Alright, tomorrow night then." He's quick to say, not giving you time to second guess yourself. "We kick my brother out and hang out." He says, sighing, all of his stress leaving his body at once.
"Sure." You agree, laughing.
"Don't bake any garlic rolls, though." He adds, that sweet smile back on his lips.
"Oh, I'll exclusively bake them." You joke, and he smiles.
"See ya." He says.
"See ya." You say, walking away from him as he gets on his truck.
You're trying not to get your hopes too high. You are.
You're telling yourself there must me something about him that'll shatter the man you know. He can't be this charming, funny and good person he seems to be.
Or maybe you got lucky. Maybe he is all that.
Maybe tomorrow you're gonna have a great time, maybe you're gonna kiss him tomorrow.
Warnings: almost smut, +18 only please, Joel spits on reader's mouth, mentions of sex but no act itself, no use of y/n, age gap (I picture reader being around my age (23-28) on this one. Oh, also, you may have ruined underpants after reading this π₯΄. Please tell me if I missed something, I couldn't tell right now.
A/N: Now, I don't know where this came from... I'm ashamed of myself. I always thought that spit and all things related were gross, but Joel Miller does things to me that I couldn't explain. I wrote this while laying in my bed this morning and I just want to marry Joel, help please.
A/N2: Did you notice the gif? Yes, it looks like he's just... You know, getting ready to do it. I lost it when I found it.
You're lying on your shared bed when Joel walks in your room, freshly showered and smelling like the perfume you got him on a recent trip outside of Jackson. The sunlight brightens his figure on all the right places. You watch him with fond eyes. You just can't process how much you love the man.
He smiles at you and climbs on top of your body, letting most of his weight go and crushing you in a way he knows to make you melt. He presses his face on your neck and rubs his beard on it, knowing it will make your neck a little red for the day.
You moan softly and smile, enjoying the sensation of being with him. Even though you were together almost ever since he returned to Jackson (after Maria's best efforts to get you two to go on a date neither of you admitted you wanted to go to), the same feelings still flooded you every time you were close to him.
The sweaty palms, the flutter in your stomach, the dry mouth, the racing heartbeat. It was all still there. All the evergreen love, the passion⦠the lust.
All the overwhelming feelings made it easy for you to get lost on him. To not think straight when all you knew was him.
That was a common thing for you now. Everytime you were with him it was like that was all that existed. He could provide you enough to survive only by being next to you. He was all the oxygen you needed, all the nurture you needed. All your favorite smells, sounds, views and tastes came from him.
God you love how he tastes. Every single taste he has.
The salty taste of his sweat when you kissed his cheeks when he was helping out around the city. The easy to get used to (and crave) taste of his cum. Your own taste on his fingers or mixed with his saliva when he kissed you to bring you back to reality after an orgasm only he knew how to get out of you. The minty, whiskey-y and smokey taste of his kisses.
You were long gone, fully lost in your thoughts when his lips touched yours. He kissed you softly and you opened your mouth in a plead to taste him.
He rolled his tongue around yours, tasting you and groaning at how you shifted under him. You were lying with your hips on your side and your torso turned upwards. So his hardening cock was pressing deliciously against your hips.
He just knew you were already wet and burning between your legs. And the thought of it made him deepen the kiss.
It wasn't a desperate or hungry kiss, like most you shared before and during sex. It was a passionate, slow and savoured kiss, the type you shared on your kitchen before he left to help around town, or when you stared into each other's eyes for a little too long, or right after sex.
He kept kissing you for what felt like a whole, extremely well spent day. The burn in your pussy making you clench around air, already aching for him.
He pulled away. Staring at your mouth. Your lips swollen and a bright red. He smiled at you and kissed your neck again. You allowed him all the space he required, and turned your hips to fully lay on your back.
He groaned when your hips rubbed his clothed cock and looked back at you. You lifted yourself a bit to kiss him again, slowly laying back down, knowing he would follow you without breaking the connection with your lips.
You pull away and lick his lips, pushing your tongue into his mouth. He was usually the one to break in, but he loved everytime you were the one to start the invasion.
You roll your tongue around his the same way he did it to you earlier - was that five minutes or an hour ago? You honestly couldn't tell.
You gathered a bit of his saliva on your tongue and pulled it back into your mouth, breaking the kiss. He watches as you savour and swallow it. A hint of a smirk painting his Greek-God face.
He parted a bit more his already parted lips, a silent invitation for you to come back in. You do so, and once again, you gather a little of him on your tongue and drink it.
βI love you.β he said with a soft, low and passionate voice. βI love you more.β you smiled and he went back to kissing your neck. βImpossible.β he said between kisses on your neck.
βI love how you taste.β you don't know where it came from, but you said it and he looked at you. βOpen your mouth.β he said looking at your eyes and your mouth. You do as you're told, immediately opening your mouth and sticking the tip of your tongue out for him to do whatever he planned with it.
Smiling, he goes back to your neck, gaining a soft moan he knows well enough to be a complain.
βYou're so good to me. Open your mouth for me and you don't even know what for.β you run your fingers through his hair and his back. God you loved when he praised you. It made you feel special and never let any room for negative feelings. Joel could fuck your throat and, as long as he called you his 'good girl', 'sweet girl', 'favourite girl' or 'pretty thing' or said 'how good you were for him' during it, you were more than willing to just let him make all his desires come true with your body.
βThere's two reasons you ask me to open my mouth. For one of them your hips are too far away, and for the other there's nothing on your fingers yet." You said with a half laugh, hoping you were right about what he wanted to do. βSo it must be something knew. I love the new things you show me.β
He kisses you again, and you can feel his mouth more wet than before. Before you can process it you're almost slurping the old man's mouth. Moaning and kissing him like you've gone for weeks on a desert. Swallowing every drop of him you can get.
βAsk for it.β he says with a dark and lustful voice when he pulls away. βPlease.β you say before he's even finished his sentence. βUse your words baby, tell me what you want.β he gives your lips a peck.
βPlease, s-β you can't finish the sentence. Usually he gives you what you want even if you don't fully ask for it. But right now he has all the time on what's left of this world to wait for you to say it.
βOpen your eyes, baby. Look at me.β you open them and he kisses you again, forcing your eyes closed. βC'mon, open them.β you do as you're told, your eyes dancing around the ceiling before you can focus on him again. βNow tell me what you want.β your eyes try to close and you force them open once again. βJoel, please.β
He brushes his thumb over your lips, opening your lower lip and pulling on your teeth to open your mouth. He finds no resistance and smiles at how much you actually want him to do it.
But you haven't said it, so he can't do it. He finds your neck again, making you grip him tighter.
βPlease, Joel." he lifts his head just enough to give you a side look and looks at you when you keep talking, "S-spit in my mouth. I wanna taste you.β you can feel your pussy flood at your own confession. His cock pulses inside his pants and he lets out a deep, throaty groan.
βGood girl. Knew you could do it.β he kisses you, again a slow and passionate kiss.
βOpen your mouth for me, baby.β you do as you're told and part your lips, sticking the tip of your tongue out and opening your eyes. He looks at you and swirls his tongue around yours, connecting his lips to yours, making you moan frustrated, what did you have to do to have him just... fucking... do it?
Your moan transforms into an actual one when you feel his tongue wet your mouth, bringing a bit of his saliva into it. He does it again, gathering his saliva with his tongue and guiding it into your mouth. You let it pool in the middle of your tongue and drink it as soon as he breaks the kiss, watching your mouth and your throat to know when you'd do it.
It earns you a groan from him, and he says again, his voice now fully lost in lust. βOpen your mouth for me.β you happily do so, once again sticking the tip of your tongue out.
He stares at you for a second. You follow his eyes and surprisingly, you feel no shame at all. You knew Joel was too good of a man to go and tell anyone the things you'd let him do to you, like a young and stupid boy. You could do whatever he wanted, be the vision he always waited for, and you knew he would just love you more as you did it.
Even when he called you a slut, he found a way to make you feel good about it. βMy pretty girl, such a whore for me, only for me, no one else. So special, so good for me, sweetheart.β he would say when you'd let him fuck your mouth, or tell him you had nothing under your dress after dancing and teasing him at a party full of people.
You moan in anticipation when you see the muscles in his face moving. He was gathering his saliva to give it to you. You felt special knowing you were probably the first one he ever did this to. Knowing that he knew that only you would let him do it. He also knew he was the only one you'd let do that to you.
He does it. It's not an agressive spit. Rather he just opened his mouth in a spiting motion and forced it out of his mouth and onto your tongue. Your eyes gave in for a beat when you felt his taste on your tongue.
βSwallow it, baby.β you do so, sighing after you felt it slide down your throat. βThank you.β you don't know why, but you say it. And after saying it you realize that you meant it. He just spit in your mouth and you were thanking him for it. God, he ruined you good this time.
βAnything for my sweet girl, my good girl deserves it all.β he kisses you again, finally touching your pussy, pushing your small shorts to the side and groaning at how fucking wet you are.
βAlways so ready for me. My favourite pretty girl. The only girl I want, the only one I need.β he said when he put a finger into you, knowing that what he said was a simple fact.
You were all he needed. You gave him what he wanted and he knew he would burst if he loved you even just a little more.
Ooooh boy. Was this gross? Please be honest, I don't know. I would let him do almost anything to me as long as it brought a smile to his face. I love this man.
I would love to hear what you think! Reblogs are highly appreciated π
Also, I have another Joel fic right here. It's a smut pretty much set on the same little universe π
