Warnings: consent king, edging, ruined orgasams, oral f! and m!receiving, fingering, super soldier stamina, brief face fucking(he looses control), arm is vibrator hehe, honorifics, so much cum talk, cream pie, lil breeding kink
Description: Upon rereading and editing all I can say in my defense is ovulation got me down bad. Oh and I kept the TSwift references to a minimum but ya know not zero, whoops 😏
You toyed with his business card between your dexterous fingers, debating the morality of calling your tutor at 11:37pm. Reflecting on the one and only session you had with him, just a few hours ago his eyes laid on yours for the first time. Piercing blue eyes undressing you slowly in his head through the lesson, you did the same to be fair. Imagining pulling that long scarf down, revealing his neck. The sound his coat would make falling gently to the floor, as your hands would explore his crisp white button down…
Shaking your head back to reality, to the ten digits printed in silver lettering on the sturdy cardstock dancing within your hand. The day dream just solidified your conviction, holding the card firmly in your hand now. You call the number, expecting an answering machine given the time.
“Bit late don’t you think?” He answers the phone with a question.
“Y-yeah sorry,” You stutter out before introducing yourself being cut off halfway.
“You think I didn’t save your number in my phone?” Sassy is the only word you can think to associate his voice with.
“I made that good of an impression, huh?” with a smile you respond.
“Doll, you’re the sexiest person to ever step foot in my classroom, I’d be remiss if I didn’t remember you.” Your eyes widen as you blush, you’re so happy he’s not here to see that.
“So if I said that I called because I couldn’t get you out of my head,” A dark chuckle comes from the other line. “What would you say to that?” You finish your suggestively open question.
“1719 Alpine Street, come to me.”
“Oh gods yes sir.” He hangs up the phone and you race for your keys before seeing yourself in your doorway mirror. ‘Oh hell no.’ You think to yourself before running upstairs to change. Stripping your comfy clothes fully before getting to your closet. You pick a long sleeved black lace dress, sure you’re only wearing it for him to take it off of you, but as you look back into the mirror, it’s definitely worth it. A long drive filled with anticipation and shifting thighs, as you imagine his intoxicating eyes and all of the times his tongue swiped across his lips during your lesson. As you pull into his dark driveway you can’t wait to be wrapped up in his arms.
Sauntering up to his front door, you knock once before the door opens with a whoosh, his metal hand grasping the knob. A Henley dark blue almost black, sleeves rolled up just above his elbows, it hugs his incredibly well toned form. Dark grey sweatpants hang loosely, doing nothing to hide the fact he's been anticipating your arrival as well. He invites you in like he’s not bulging right before your eyes.
“So happy you called.” He whispers once the door is closed, grabbing your wrist and pulls you into this incredible kiss, chaste and simple but unforgettable. Having a look around as he steps to the nearby bar grabbing two glasses and a full bottle he leads you to a den type living room with a roaring fire in the fireplace.
“Your house is beautiful, professor.” You look at the fine detailing around the room you’re in.
“It’s Bucky,” he hands you the bottle of wine. “Check the seal.” You inspect the bottle, it's brand new.
“Thank you.” You whisper hesitantly at his wordless understanding of your fears.
“Always check.” He nods with you while he opens the bottle with a corkscrew. Filling both glasses nearly all the way full you chuckle.
“You trying to get me drunk sir?”
“Without question, yes.” He winks “But firsts,” pulling the drink away when you reach for it, placing them on the coffee table he turns back to you. “What do you want from tonight?” He isn’t touching you, though you can see in his eyes that he wants to cling to your flesh like his life depended on it.
“What do you mean?” You ask genuinely.
“You called me, I invited you over and kissed you, that’s all that’s happened so far. So I repeat, what do you want from tonight?” His face remains unreadable giving you full choice in this situation. He looks in his mid 40’s, very well put together and you are loving how consent driven he is. Stepping into his personal space not touching him but close enough that you feel the heat radiating off his body.
“When I met you I knew you were different, fuck am I glad I was right.” Your right hand grabs his large bicep. “I want you Bucky, your fingers,” Lacing your left hand in between his fingers. “your mouth,” your lips place gentle kisses up his neck. “your cock.” You whisper against the skin of his ear. A chuckle escapes him but his hands remain by his side, what more do you have to say to get him to touch you. “Fuck! Fuck me please!” You shouted.
“When I saw you I wanted to taste you, your sweet cunt taunting me under your skirt.” Licking his lips he hums a distant look in his eyes. He pushes you onto the couch before dropping to his knees, he places the glass in your hand.
Before kissing up your legs, once you’re about halfway done your glass he starts gently parting your legs. Peppering kisses up your thighs as he groans smelling you with a deep inhale he closes his eyes and savors the time between your legs, you see a smile on his lips before his tongue slips past them and up your dripping slit.
A hum from deep within his chest as he dives in, his nose stimulating your clit in an odd but very welcome way. Your hand reaches down and grips his thick fluffy hair, rolling your hips against his face. He gets the message and wraps his large hands around your hips and pulls you in tight. Gasping and groaning you grind against him, his licking and lapping make you pant and moan.
Your orgasam is barely held at bay when one of his hands leaves your hip and his fingertip traces your entrance teasing you. His eyes lock to yours, crows feet grow around his intense eyes as he smiles, he plunges two long fingers deep inside you.
“Gods yes, Bucky fuck!” You shout as you cum, your fingers twisting in his hair. His fingers do not stop as he stands up and licks his lips, you move to take off his pants needing him.
“No, no sweet thing, one more.” He smiles patiently though you're pawing at him.
“Want to touch you sir.” Gasps sweet gasps escape your lips desperate for air or release.
“Patience doll, all in good time. If tonight is all I get, I want to savor you.”
“Why do you think this is the only time?” You say between pants and gasps.
“I don’t, but just in case my kitten.” He purrs before adding another finger into your hungry cunt. Your back arches as he curls his fingers, there’s a slightly blank expression on his face. As if he is memorizing every movement of your body and sound that slips across your lips.
“Kiss me?” You pant sounding more desperate than you intended too.
“With pleasure.” He speeds up his pace as he leans forward with a gentle smile on his face. After leaving a breathtaking kiss he takes off his Henley, you intake his bulky and perfectly toned form. A hum from deep within your chest as your eyes wander over his scars and rippling muscles. He continues stripping, moving to his slacks and boxer briefs. The “V” of flesh that leads your eyes down and between his thick thighs, saliva swells as you imagine how heavy and full he’d feel in your mouth. Sitting on the bed across from you, you speak up.
“Can I eat you please.” You stare eagerly at his throbbing erection.
“Gently.” He chuckles.
“Only want to lick and swallow you sir.” You can see in his eyes that it's been a while and you smirk. “I have a question, professor.” Crawling up the bed on your hands and knees, licking up his thighs. “If I suck two from you,” Up on your knees resting against his chest by now, looking down at him with your fingers gripped in his hair. “Could you still fuck the absolute devil out of me?”
“Doll, I could fuck you through tomorrow.” His lip where it meets his nose twitches as he holds the dominance over the situation, despite this potentially submissive position you’ve put him in.
You smile and purr before wordlessly adjusting to be on your knees bent over his cock, fluttering your lips up his shaft licking occasionally. Teasing is the point, you wanted to make him wait, make him shake and beg for mercy. The image in your head drives you to lick a long wet stipe from his balls to the tip. Irregular breathing from above drives you to take his aching cock into your hot mouth. Taking your time sucking and toying with the tip, feeling him shift impatiently you reach one of your hands to hold his balls gently only playing with them when he would get antsy and want for more. You work his shaft slowly down your throat, soft pulses up and down just agonizingly slow he is a groaning mess.
“Please please kitten.” Hips jolting as the words fall whimpering past his lips, loving the way he squirms under you. “Don’t stop, fuck please, doll yes!” You suck him hard and deep throat him, how could you not he’s begging so beautifully. Humming and lapping around him, balls fondle between your fingers, as he wraps his hands into your hair finally taking control as he fucks into your throat. Choking around him as he cums, so far down your throat you don’t even taste him until he pulls out. “Fuck, are you okay? I got carried away.” You look up at him, nodding with glassy eyes, a wide smile and saliva running down your chin.
His thumb wipes your chin with a cocked smile, his hand traces up your thighs to your pussy. Two fingers run from the bottom of your hole up to your clit, using your slick as lube he violently shakes his metal hand.
“Ahh woah Bucky fuck.” His hand feels like a vibrator, you lift your head and bite his neck. His right hand finds your nipple, squeezing and rolling the swollen bud between his fingertips. “No why, just fuck me Buck please!” You beg as he ruins your orgasam, whining and being shut up by lips on yours.
“We,” He starts between violent kisses, getting on his knees to match your stance. “Like to edge each other, we should,” He grunts as he pushes you onto your back, feeling where your legs are bent together, up to your pussy. “do something with that one day.”
“Stop planning for the future and put your cock in me Buck please.” Wrapping your long legs around his waist.
“Like learning things about you.” he pants against your lips. “So demanding,” pushing himself inside you, your head falls back as your spine arches. “Didn’t know you before today,” Soft hip rolls he uses to punctuate his words. “But I’ve been waiting for this, for you.” He whispers against the shell of your ear, while his cock is deep inside you. You roll your hips desperately, foggy headed all you can think about is the feeling of him filling you in a way no one ever has and his lips glued to your neck.
“Professor Barnes, you fit perfectly li- like you were made for my cunt.” He huffs his head rolling, light headed as all the blood in his body rushes to his cock.
“You’re so tight and warm, shit,” He pants. “Don't know, think you were made for me.” You’re loving the way his well put together speech pattern is falling apart as he gets closer and closer.
“Just for you sir.” You gasp as he speeds up his thrusts. “Bucky,” your voice just a whisper. “Can I cum please?” A whimper slips his lip.
“You asked so nice, doll. Please cum around me, let me feel how tight you can grip me love.” He whispers into your ear, repositioning himself into a deeper angle just right. You shout as your orgasam rips through your body.
“Fuck Bucky, how are you so,” A moan rips “so deep? Can feel all of you Buck, your veins pulse against me, torcherously hot, I feel everything, I want more. Do you know what the matepress is, sir?” You whisper just barely audible, he hums and moves your body with great ease into position. “I could see it in your eyes, something deep and dark, let it loose please.” You look up into his icey eyes. “That need within you, fuck me like you’ll find it in me sir.” His hips follow your command.
“Don’t say shit like that, I’ll never let you go.”
“I hadn’t finished.” You blush between moans and gasps as he perfectly satisfies what you asked for. “Fill me, cum deep inside me please.” Tears sting at your eyes as a fantasy and a dream of a man collide in this moment.
“As you wish.” He says before biting a large chunk of your flesh definitely enough pressure to leave a bruise. You gasp and moan. “Cum for me princess, you’re so desperate for it, pull what you want from me baby.” He whispers and licks over his bite mark. Still thrusting into you with great strength, your legs start to shake as your last orgasam drags out of you, but pulls him deeper into you.
“Take what’s yours doll.” He bottoms out, breaking the crest of your cervix finally as he cums, holding himself in place deep inside you.
“It’s so warm, sir you fill me, fuck me, so good Bucky. Mine!” You shouted, glad he didn’t have neighbors who would’ve most definitely heard. Your brain stops working as you black out. When you come to you are clean and tucked in tightly next to your large tutor.
“Mine.” He echos your last coherent thought with his metal arm grasping around your throat in a way that should be threatening, but just makes you melt into his body.
“Yours sir, all yours if you’ll have me.”
“When we wake up do you want to go on our first date?” Placing soft kisses up your neck, you laugh and nod sleepily, excited for what life has in store with the one wrapped around you.
Heya it’s been a while since I’ve asked y’all what you want to see from me! Right now I’ve got several wips, but currently I’m stuck which one of three fics should I post next?
the void making you touch yourself so he can watch 18+
“wider.” his command fills the room in a deep, low echo.
he’s not touching you, just simply watching from between your thighs.
you spread your legs wider for him, pushing past the hesitation buzzing throughout your body and giving him what he wants.
“that’s it,” although it’s an affirmation of a job well done, the words seep from him in a condescending tone— as if he’s mocking you for having to be asked to open your legs in the first place.
“so shy all of a sudden…” there’s a hint of a chuckle in his voice as he watches your fingers draw slow circles at your clit.
“you’re always so needy and pathetic for him— so easy.”
the degradation in his words scratches something deep inside your brain. he’s speaking to you in a way bob would never, and a shameful warmth spreads across your chest.
the vulnerability of the moment instantly vanishes when his voice wraps around your mind in a blanket of quiet control, “inside.”
you trace your fingers lower, dipping into the mess dripping at your entrance before sliding two fingers in. the slow stretch of your knuckles and low hum of approval coming from the shadowy frame above you make you push your legs open further, giving him a better view of your lewd movements.
“there you go, i know you like being told what to do.” his voice is so deep and intoxicating, flooding every corner of your brain.
“i know you wish he’d boss you around sometimes— put you in your place,”
his body doesn’t move as he speaks, and his eyes stay zoned in on the spot between your thighs where your fingers are stroking achingly slow at your opening.
“but he’s too gentle, too afraid. he thinks you can’t handle it.” the raspy drawl of his voice grows louder in your head when suddenly you feel his palm against your thigh.
his touch is almost cold— sharp and bleak against your warm body. heavy against your skin, his fingers move up your inner thigh, walking closer to your core and leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“but i know you can.”
he pauses at the apex of your thigh, watching for a few more seconds as you delicately pump your own fingers in and out of your walls.
“isn’t that right?”
you nod your head desperately. the feeling of his fingertips so close to where you need them, the sound of his voice so soothing and thick as it engulfs your senses; you want him to touch you— need him to take control.
“there’s my needy girl.” a deep shade of satisfaction paints your vision, bringing you further into a docile space of pleasure as you feel him swat your hand away, replacing your fingers with his own, sliding them easily into the mess you’ve made for him.
Warning/tags: Smut, minors DNI, ddlg, big age gap, daddy kink, innocent!reader, pillow humping, unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink, belly bulge, baby-talking, joel calls reader his bunny, condescending!joel, humiliation if u squint
Disclaimer: This work is not intended to be a faithful or canonical representation of Joel Miller from the game/TV show. All characters are consenting adults in a relationship. If you’re not into age gaps or dd/lg dynamics, consider this your sign to stop reading. If you choose to continue, you’ve been warned.
Lately you’d been spending more time in Joel’s house than your own, tangled up in blankets on his couch or curled beside him in his bed. Tonight was one of those nights. Joel was sitting back against the headboard with a book in hand, you were on your stomach beside him, chin on his thigh. His voice rumbled every time he turned a page, the occasional hum or muttered curse when the lamp light wasn’t quite enough.
There was something about seeing Joel in those quiet, everyday moments, like reading a book with complete concentration, his rough hands brushing the pages, the glasses perched low on his nose, that made your body react before your brain could catch up with that familiar ache between your thighs.
You wanted nothing more than to please him, to show him how good you could be for him, even if you weren’t as old or experienced as the other women he might have had in the past. Joel was always vocal about how good you made him feel, how fast you learned. Praises like ‘good girl’, or ‘doing so good for daddy’ were never in short supply when you fucked, but you longed to prove you could give him even more, to show him just how far your devotion could go.
“Joel?”
He didn’t look up right away, still focused on his book. “Mm?”
“I wanna…” Your voice dipped, you felt shy all of a sudden. It was still hard for you to be open about your desires, no matter how much you trusted him. Joel was always so blatant about what he wanted, when he was feeling needy, he’d press his hard cock against you, letting you feel the strain, or he’d lean close to your ear and whisper something like, “Why don’t you get on your knees f’r me, hmm? Suck daddy’s cock with that pretty little mouth o’yours.” But for you, saying it wasn’t that simple.
He finally glanced down at you, eyebrows lifting at your tone. “You wanna what, babydoll?” he asked, sliding a hand over your back, thumb grazing bare skin under your sleep shirt.
The thought had been simmering ever since that afternoon spent gossiping with your friends, when one of them started talking about this new guy in Jackson she’d been seeing, and how she rode him so well he nearly passed out. And you couldn’t shake the image from your mind. You wanted Joel like that.
Your cheeks warmed. “I wanna ride you.”
That got his full attention. Joel’s brow furrowed, like you’d just said something funny. He’d told you before, more times than you could count, to speak up whenever you were feeling achey, so he could take care of it. He didn’t want his babygirl twisting and turning through the night, uncomfortable from how horny she was. He closed the book and set it carefully on the nightstand, then he turned to you, giving you that look, the one that was half amusement, half concern.
“Do what now?” He asked with mocking confusion.
“You know.” You bit your lip. “Me on top. I just… I wanna try.”
Joel huffed out a laugh, rubbing his jaw. “Babygirl, that’s not somethin’ you jus’… hop on an’ figure out. Y’don’t even know what you’re askin’ for.”
“I do.” You pouted, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I’m not a kid.”
“No,” he said slowly, “you’re not. But you’re still a baby when it comes to this stuff. And ridin’…” He gave a low whistle. “Takes more control than y’think. Might wear you out ‘fore we even get goin’.”
You huffed. “I can do it.”
Joel’s eyes softened, even as his lips twitched like he was trying not to grin. “Don’t think you do, babygirl.”
“But,” your pout intensified. “We’ve been doing it a lot, and I can even take it from behind!”
“It ain’t the same thing,” he said. “Y’ve been layin’ there, lookin’ all pretty f’me while you take it. I’ve been the one doin’ all the work, pretty thing.” He shook his head slightly, like it was obvious, like you should already understand.
“But… but I’ve rode your thigh before too!”
“Ridin’ a thigh an’ ridin’ a cock ain’t the same, babydoll.” He gave you that look that made you feel like a kid being patiently explained something you should’ve already known.
“I just… I wanna make you feel good.” The honesty in your voice quieted him for a moment. His big hand slid up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your lips.
“Y’already do, babygirl,” he said. “Every damn day.” Then, with that familiar condescending edge, “But you still don’t know whatcha askin’ for.”
“I can learn,” you insisted, wriggling closer. “Teach me.”
“Yeah? You real sure, huh?” Joel gave a long-suffering sigh when you eagerly nodded. A mix of irritation and pride. “Alright,” he said finally. “If you’re gonna be so damn stubborn bout it… we’ll start with somethin’ safer.”
You blinked. “Safer?”
He shifted off the bed, grabbed one of the pillows from the chair by the window, and tossed it onto the mattress in front of you.
“Go on,” he said, patting the pillow. “Show me how you’d move.”
There was something about the thought of him lounging back in bed while you fumbled with your own pleasure that made him hard instantly. You, all innocent and silly, grinding against a pillow, trying to figure out just the right angle to hit that clit, your soft moans filling the room. And him… not there to do the job and give you an orgasm like he did every time.
You stared at him, then stared at the pillow, a little confused by his request. “What?”
“Babygirl, you ain’t climbin’ on me ‘til I know you can keep a rhythm without fallin’ on your face. You gonna practice first.” His grin was wicked now, enjoying your fluster. “C’mere. Straddle it.”
“Joel…”
“Don’t Joel me. Get on.” He knew you could ride him, after all, you were a desperate little thing, always so eager to please him. But he wanted to see you work for it a little first. Wanted to see how much you were willing to do to get his cock.
Your whole body flushed hot as you obeyed, settling your knees on either side of the pillow. Joel leaned back against the headboard again, crossing his arms and looking far too pleased with himself, he was gonna get one hell of a show from his babygirl, and he had a first row ticket.
“Alright, little bunny,” he drawled. “Show daddy how you’d ride.”
You bit your lip, starting to rock your hips uncertainly. The fabric of your sleep shorts dragged over the pillow, and Joel’s eyes dropped instantly, following every movement. Your pretty hips looked so good moving in little rolls, your thighs pressing the pillow together, and he could already imagine your soft pussy getting wetter at the contact with the pillow.
“Mm. Thass cute,” he said after a moment, analyzing and judging the way you were riding the pillow. “But you’re barely movin’. Need more pressure. More grind. Like you mean it.”
You whined softly, pushing harder, moving your hips now in slow circles. Joel’s hand drifted to his own thigh, fingers tapping, but his gaze never left you.
“Theeere ya go. Look atcha,” he praised, you loved hearing how proud of you he was. “Daddy’s little bunny, humpin’ her pillow. Gettin’ practice so she can take me later.”
The words made you squirm harder, your breath coming quicker. Joel leaned forward now, his hand settling on your lower back to guide you.
“Keep your balance,” he murmured. “You’re gonna need those pretty legs steady if you wanna ride me proper. Don’t jus’ bounce around, control it. Nice an’ slow. Feel every bit of it.”
“Joel,” you gasped, feeling your highs trembling under you.
“Uh-uh,” he corrected, his voice sharp. “Daddy.”
“Daddy,” you whined, hips jerking in an awkward rhythm, Joel was right, riding wasn’t as simple as it seemed, not when your pussy ached so much, and the friction felt too good that it made it hard to concentrate.
“Attagirl,” he purred, wrapping his big hands around your waist to guide your movements until they smoothed out. “Good little bunny. Gettin’ better already.” Your arms wobbled from holding yourself up, and Joel chuckled, rubbing your spine. “Tired? We ain’t even started.”
“N-no…”
“Mm. We’ll see. Keep goin’.” His voice softened again, coaxing you to keep moving. “Show me you can do it, babydoll. Show me you’re ready to ride daddy.”
Your breath caught, your hips were grinding harder against the pillow now, feeling the heat pooling low in your belly. Joel watched every second, his own control was fraying by the minute. The little squeaks you made every time your hips rocked forward had his jaw tight, his breathing rough. You were so damn earnest about it, trying to impress him, even practicing on a pillow like he told you.
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand down his face. “You gonna kill me, babydoll.”
You glanced up, flushed and panting, slowing your hips in confusion. “Am I… doing it wrong?”
Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Wrong? No, darlin’. You’re doin’ jus’ fine. Too fine, if you wanna know the truth.”
“Too fine?”
“Looka’me,” he said, and his hand went to his belt, popping the buckle loose with ease. “See what you’re doin’ to daddy.”
Your eyes went wide as he tugged his jeans down just enough to free himself. His cock was already thick in his palm, looking heavy, the tip flushed dark. Your daddy’s cock was always so responsive to you, Joel had told you before that he hadn’t felt this horny since he was a teenager, that the biggest nuts he’d ever busted were inside your pussy, that he’d never felt anything this good in his life, that just seeing you or being around you made his cock go rock hard, made him want to keep you filled every second of the day
“Joel,” you breathed, faltering your hands on the pillow.
“Mm-mm.” He started stroking himself slowly, groaning at the slick feel of his hand on his pre-cum-coated cock. Seeing Joel play with himself was all the visual stimulation you needed to keep going. The way his rough hands moved over that thick, pulsing length made your cunt gush. Even with his broad fingers, they somehow looked almost delicate against the imposing girth of his member, only emphasizing just how impossibly large he was. “Not Joel… Daddy. Say it right. Try again.”
“Daddy,” you corrected yourself, softer now.
“Thass it. Keep movin’ those pretty hips f’me, babygirl. Don’t you stop jus’ ‘cause daddy’s dyin’ over here.” And dying he was. His hand had done just fine before, he knew how to touch his cock to get himself off fast and efficient, but after you, it didn’t even compare. Your tight little hole was a whole different world, and it couldn’t be compared to his hand, not to any other pussy either. Yours was warmer, wetter, impossibly snug, always struggling to accommodate him, clinging to him as if trying to swallow him whole each time he entered. But Joel knew the best things were worth waiting for. He loved to tease himself, to edge, savoring the ache before finally diving into your cunt.
You whimpered and started grinding again, small and shaky circles over the pillow. You were desperate to prove him that you were a big girl, that you could ride him like one. Joel’s eyes burned into you, his thumb swiping over the head of his cock as he worked himself slowly, like he had all the time in the world to watch you squirm.
“Look atcha,” he praised. “Sweet little thing… humpin’ your pillow like a bunny in heat.”
You made a tiny embarrassed sound and buried your face against your arm, but Joel wasn’t having it. His free hand shot out, curling under your chin to tilt your face up. “Uh-uh. Daddy wants to see you,” he said firmly. “Wanna hear those cute little moans, too. Don’cha hide ‘em from me.”
So you let them spill out. those soft little ah, ah, ah sounds you made every time you rocked forward, your hips grinding harder now just to keep his eyes on you. Joel might’ve been a visual man, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy hearing the cutesy sounds you made, as if your body struggled to understand such deep pleasure. His fist was working faster down his shaft, the veins standing out against his forearm, and bulging around his cock.
“Y’know what’s happenin’ to me right now?” he rasped. “You’re makin’ daddy so damn hard I can’t think straight. Got me sittin’ here bout to blow jus’ watchin’ you practice.” Hadn’t Joel been an old man, seasoned with years of control and restraint, he would’ve blown in his pants the moment he saw your hips sway. He was glad that age had its perks, making it a little harder for him to finish sometimes, giving him extra time to fuck you properly, to savor every inch, to make sure you were absolutely wrecked and satisfied before he finally came.
You moaned louder, your small movements were escalating into frantic presses of your aching cunt against the pillow, each rub on the pillowcase seam was catching just right on your swollen clit, making you cry out. “Ah… ah… ah… daddy! Too much!”
“Thass my good girl,” Joel groaned, his eyes flicking from your face to your wriggling hips. “Gettin’ better every second. Ya hear how cute you sound? That soft little cry every time you move… fuck.”
He swore under his breath, squeezing his cock harder now, “Keep goin’,” he urged you, he was slowly losing his mind, every second of you riding that pillow instead of his cock was sweet torture. “Show Daddy how bad you want it. How bad you wanna ride me.”
You nodded frantically, your thighs trembled as you kept grinding, your moans coming faster, higher-pitched now “Ah—ah—ah—”
Joel let out a guttural groan, rolling his eyes shut “Goddamn, babydoll. You sound so sweet I could eat you alive.”
He leaned forward, catching your chin again and kissing you hard, swallowing one of those little cries before pulling back to watch you. Joel didn’t let go of your chin until your hips slowed, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts. Then he glanced down at the pillow under you, and smirked.
“Well, look a’that,” he drawled. “You went an’ made a mess all over it, babydoll.”
You flushed hard, hands flying to cover your face. “I—I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean to?” Joel cut in with amusemt. You really were a silly little thing. “Darlin’, you’re soaked through. You’re ridin’ that thing like it owes you money. Think it’s bout done f’r. Sweet little bunny, humpin’ herself silly. Gettin’ her pillow all wet jus’ to show daddy she’s ready.”
He almost wanted to push you down, bury his face in the slick puddle you left on the pillow, and slurp your juices straight from your cunt. There was nothing better than a wet pussy, a really wet pussy. Feeling it against his tongue, or sliding his cock in effortlessly, listening to the wet slap with every motion. And god, your pussy got wet like no other, and only for him, making him feel like the proudest bastard alive just knowing he’d made that happen. Joel hadn’t been one for younger women, never had before you, but he still remembered what Tommy had said decades ago: “College girls, get wet like no others.” And maybe college didn’t exist no more, but fuck, had he been right.
He reached forward before you could protest, tugging at your waistband. “C’mere. These are comin’ off.”
“W-what if I’m not—” You said, suddenly feeling insecure.
“You’re ready,” he said firmly, cutting off your hesitation. He needed you right now, he was done waiting. “I can see it plain as day.”
In one smooth motion he peeled your shorts and panties down over your knees, tossing them aside. The cool air hit your damp skin, and Joel’s sharp inhale told you just how much he liked what he saw. There was nothing like the sight of your pretty pussy all wet because of him. And to think you’d been so shy the first time you’d showed it to him, trying to close your knees with embarrassment, all while Joel almost busted a nut in his pants just by watching how it shined with your arousal, how your juices dripped out of you, how puffy your clit was in between your folds.
“Goddamn,” he muttered, sitting back against the headboard again, his heavy cock cock resting flushed in his palm. “You glistenin’, babydoll. All worked up jus’ from humpin’ that pillow’.”
You shifted nervously on the bed, completely bare now, and Joel caught your wrist, tugging you gently closer until you were kneeling between his legs.
“Looka’me,” he ordered softly. When your eyes met his, his expression softened just enough to make your chest ache. “You did real good. But daddy needs you now.” Your lips parted, but before you could say a word, Joel leaned back on one elbow, giving his cock a lazy stroke with his free hand. “Go on, babygirl. Climb up. Let’s see if you can really ride.”
Your whole body buzzed with heat as you crawled into his lap, straddling him just like you’d practiced on the pillow. Joel steadied you with big hands on your hips, the contrast between his rough skin and your soft thighs made you shiver.
“Slow now,” he guided you up so the head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance. “Ain’t no rush. You take daddy nice and easy.” You nodded, swallowing hard, but Joel tilted his head. “You hear me, babydoll? What did daddy say?”
“Nice… nice and easy,” you repeated, your voice coming out small.
“Thass my girl.”
You hovered just above the tip, and Joel held it steady, his cock was thick and stiff, the head swollen as it pressed, parting your folds. You lowered yourself slowly, inch by inch, until you felt him stretching you open. Joel groaned deep in his chest, head tipping back for a moment before he locked eyes with you again.
“Looka’that,” he said. “So wet for daddy. You ready for how deep it gets?”
“Y-Yeah…”
Daddy’s cock was always a big stretch, opening you up to the limit, it felt like getting burned and split open? but in a way that somehow was impossibly good. You wondered if one day you’d be able to take him easier, to welcome him without needing so long to adjust, to fit around him more naturally. But Joel loved it like this. Every tiny gasp, every little whine, every pout that you made only made him harder. Watching you struggle, trying to take him, your body tensing and trembling around him, made him ache with a mix of frustration and desire. The way you whimpered, saying that he was too big, that it was too much, only fed his need.
“Feel that?” he rasped. “That’s what you’ve been beggin’ for. Daddy’s cock, right where you wanted it.”
You whimpered, your thighs shaking, but Joel’s grip held you steady. “Uh-uh,” he warned, that teasing edge sliding back into his tone. “Don’t get all wobbly now. You wanted to ride, remember? Show me you learned somethin’. Take daddy’s cock. Sit all ’way down.”
You slowly began to sink the rest of the way down with a shaky little gasp as his thick length stretched you open. Joel groaned so low it was almost a growl, his big hands gripping your hips tight.
“Too big—Daddy” You complained, feeling full to the brim already, even if only half of him was inside you.
“Nuh-uh. None o’ that,” Joel said, knowing you could take all of him, you were just whining just a little like you always did. “You just got daddy real hard ridin’ that pillow. Now you take it. Quit that whinin’ an’ ride, jus’ like you wanted.”
You sobbed, but your hips kept dropping lower. Halfway first, and then more, until you were fully seated, your ass hitting his thighs and he was buried so deep, his cock pressed right against your cervix, and his thumb was stroking where he could feel the bulge in your belly.
“Christ almighty,” his half-lidded eyes looking at you. “My sweet babydoll… finally sittin’ on daddy’s cock.”
“S-so full,” you whispered. “Feel you-uh everywhere.”
Joel groaned into your hair, one hand gripping your ass, the other rubbing your back. “Thass my girl,” he whispered. “Thass daddy’s fuckin’ girl. You take every inch like it’s nothin’. Pussy’s jus’ made f’r this cock.”
You whimpered, trying to remember what he’d told you about control and rhythm, but the overwhelming fullness made it hard to think. Joel noticed instantly, his mouth quirking in that infuriating smirk. He was thick and deep, and it hurt just a little, but it was the best kind of hurt, and every time you moved, you felt him drag against your walls, stretching you out again like he was claiming you from the inside.
“What’s wrong, bunny?” he drawled. “Already too much f’you? An’ here I was thinkin’ you were ready.”
“I am,” you panted, bouncing experimentally on his lap. “I—I can—”
You had your hands planted on his chest, knees bent on either side of his hips, and you were moving your hips in these slow little hops, you were too needy to stay still, but too full of his cock to go fast. Joel’s head tipped back with a groan as you gave another tiny hop, your slick walls squeezing him with each rise and fall.
You didn’t ride like a pornstar, with deep, practiced rolls of your hips or perfect rhythm. But then again, Joel didn’t want a pornstar, he wanted you. You and those little cutesy bounces that made him harder than anything else could. You and those breathy moans. You and those uncoordinated movements that made him hold his breath not to blow from how adorable you looked.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckled. “Looka cha go. Daddy’s little bunny learnin’ to ride.”
One of his hands gripped your ass, the other rested on your lower belly, right where he could feel the bulge of his cock inside you. He looked up at you, “Look’a my little bunny,” he muttered. “You like jumpin’ on daddy’s cock, baby?”
Your cheeks burned. “Aah… y-yes, ahh y-yes, d-daddy.” You kept moving, soft oh oh oh sounds escaping every time you sank back down. Joel’s hand slid up your spine to your chest, cupping one breast through your thin sleep shirt, thumb grazing your nipple.
“Pretty little tits,” he rasped, giving a gentle squeeze that made you shiver. “Gonna have to take care o’these while you work, huh?”
“Y-yes—Daddy,” you whined, your breath hitching when he tugged the neckline down to bare you completely. The sight of your tits bouncing in rhythm with your hips drove him insane.
“There’s my good girl,” his mouth brushed over the swell of your breast as his other hand guided your hips into a better rhythm. “Keep those cute lil hops goin’. Up… down… jus’ like that. Good bunny.”
His lips closed around your nipple, sucking softly while his teeth grazed you just enough to make you squeak. Joel laughed against your skin. He loved how your body responded so eagerly to him, he only had to do the bare minimum, just suck your nipple a little, or flick his thumb against your clit, and you were a squirming mess for him.
“Sensitive, huh?” he teased, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Daddy barely touched you.”
“I—ah—” you tried to speak, but another little hop sent him deeper inside, stealing your words.
“Thass it, babydoll,” Joel praised. “Ride daddy nice an’ steady. Workin’ so hard for me… you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight I can hardly breathe.”
You bounced faster, clinging to his broad shoulders for balance, your thighs already trembling from the effort, but you were a girl on a mission, and you had something to prove to Joel, so you kept bouncing through the pain and exhaustion.
“So cute, babygirl,” he whispered. “You’re so fuckin’ cute. Goin’ all squeaky like that. Your ears would be bouncin’ if I had you in a little bunny costume.”
You moaned louder, clenching around him. “Daddy—”
“You’re my bunny, huh?” Joel grinned, thrusting up once, just enough to make your whole body jump. “Jus’ made to sit on my cock and bounce?”
“Y-yes… Daddy it feels so good—too big—”
“Yeah, baby? Like this big, fat cock, don’t’cha?Like how it fills your pussy full?” He groaned, his fingers tugging at your other nipple now, making you gasp again. “Sweetest damn thing I’ve ever seen… my little bunny, humpin’ daddy’s cock like she was made f’r it. Hear yourself? Those little sounds you make f’me?”
Your rhythm stayed clumsy, all sweet determination rather than skill, but that only made Joel harder, the way you were moving a little silly, a little uncoordinated, but so lost in the pleasure his cock was giving you, only made him enjoy this much more. You were so earnest about it, trying to prove yourself, your soft gasps spilling out like you didn’t even realize you were doing it.
“Look how deep I get,” he groaned. “Watch your belly, baby. See that little bump right here?” He rubbed your belly with his palm and you sobbed, glancing down. You could see the way your skin shifted every time you sank down on him. “That bump’s daddy’s cock fuckin’ your tummy. Deep as you can get.”
Joel’s hand dipped lower, his thumb brushing against your slick folds. You gasped sharply, your little hops faltering for a second as heat pooled between your legs. He knew that if you were already struggling, once he started giving some attention to your clit, you’d look so much dumber trying to fuck yourself on his cock when feeling so overstimulated.
“Mm,” he hummed. “Ridin’ daddy so good… an’ already makin’ him touch her pretty little clit.”
You squeaked, cheeks flaming, and you stopped moving your hips for a moment, focusing on the feeling of Joel’s finger circling your swollen nub. Joel chuckled darkly. “Don’t stop now,” he rasped, leaning forward so his lips brushed your shoulder. “Daddy’s watchin’, an’ he likes what he sees. My sweet little pussy, all wet f’me… I can barely stand it.”
You whimpered and bounced again, letting your tiny hops carry you, even as his thumb kept flicking your clit, teasing in strokes that made it almost impossible for you to focus. Every small sound you made, all those squeaks and tiny gasps, made him groan, made his balls tighten as he fought not to blow right there.
“Gonna make daddy lose his mind, bunny,” he said. “Pretty little clit, so sensitive… look atcha, tryin’ so hard. All those little humps you make, feelin’ me, feelin’ daddy.”
You tried to nod, but your focus was solely on keeping yourself moving, even with your trembling thighs and ragged breaths, thankfully, Joel’s hand never stopped guiding your hips.
“Yeah… thatss it. Good girl… my pretty little pussy… daddy can feel how tight you are, feel how wet your clit’s gettin’ from my touch. You’re creamin’ on daddy’s cock” He smirked, the teasing tone in his voice never once stopped. “All worked up f’me, and you’ve barely started. Christ, babydoll, look at this mess you’re makin’.”
Your tiny hops became more desperate, a little erratic even, and your cute little squeaks filled the room. Joel’s thumb rubbed harder now, circling faster while still keeping your hips steady. He leaned back against the headboard, groaning as your movements rubbed him just right.
“Little bunny,” he crooned, “you’re doin’ so good. Daddy’s losin’ his mind watchin’ you. Pretty little pussy, my sweet babygirl makin’ daddy this hard. So damn cute.”
You bit your lip, gasping as your hands clutched his shoulders for balance. His words embarrassed you, but you were still helpless under his praise and teasing. Every tiny squeak, every small hop, drove him wilder. He leaned forward, pressing his chest to yours for a moment, just to watch your chest rise and fall, to hear closer your little moans, so pure, and yet making him desperate.
“Yeah… thass it. My pretty babygirl,” he kept his thumb circling your sensitive nub. “Ride daddy. Keep those tiny little humps, keep those soft sounds comin’. Gonna teach you how to take him properly.”
You nodded, almost trembling from the stimulation, hopping faster and squeaking out louder, your hips tilting with each tiny bounce. Then it hit you all at once, the hot rush building low in your belly, spreading fast until your whole body trembled. You let out a louder cry, clinging to his shoulders as you jerked in his lap.
“D-Daddy—!”
Joel’s eyes went wide as you clamped down around him, your walls spasming tight around his length. “Aw, hell,” he gritted, locking his jaw. “You cummin’ already?”
“Daddy, wanna cum, please… need to—please—” Your moans came high and breathy, every pulse of your release was squeezing his cock like a vice. Joel’s grip tightened on your hips, his big hands almost spanning your whole waist.
“You liked that, baby?” he asked you, even if he already knew the answer. “That felt good?”
You whimpered and nodded against his shoulder, you couldn’t find words even if you tried, your orgasm had left you speechless.
He pressed a kiss just below your ear. “Good. ‘Cause daddy ain’t finished yet.” Your body twitched, you knew daddy still needed to cum, so this was far from over. “I know you’re tired,” he said, nuzzling your jaw. “But you’re gonna give daddy just a little more, yeah? Just ride a little more, daddy’s real close.”
He leaned back slightly, holding your waist with his hands now, guiding your movements, you were already so exhausted you couldn’t move on your own anymore.
“Bounce a little more. Yeah. Just like that. Lemme use this pretty little pussy.” You rolled your hips, and Joel groaned, his jaw tightening. “Fuck… feels so good, baby. All wet an’ warm an’ tight. Daddy’s cock’s in fuckin’ heaven inside you.”
You let out a breathy moan, barely able to hold yourself upright, but still moving.
“Christ, babydoll,” he rasped, sweat beading at his temple. “You’re milkin’ me dry… can’t—”
His control snapped. With a rough growl, Joel yanked you down hard, slamming you flush against his lap. Then his hips drove up, fucking into you from below in deep, brutal thrusts, he was so deep you could feel him in your womb. He was fucking your pussy like you were just an object, just a doll for his pleasure.
“Ah—ah—ah—Daddy!” you cried, bouncing helplessly under his grip as the bed creaked beneath you.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Joel snarled against your ear. “Say it again.”
“Daddy—ah—Daddy—!” Your poor pussy was so overstimulated already, but he showed no mercy, he kept pounding into you harsh, abusing your little hole.
“Good girl,” he groaned, thrusting faster now, each sharp snap of his hips knocking the breath from your lungs. “Takin’ me so deep… you wanted this, didn’t cha? Wanted daddy to fuck that pretty little pussy raw.”
You nodded frantically, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pace, your soft cries tumbling out without restraint. “T-too m-much! D-daddy! It’s too d-deep.”
“Mm, I can feel you shakin’,” Joel panted, as his movements grew sloppy. “Gonna cum f’r daddy again? Huh, bunny?”
“I—I—” you gasped, words breaking on a sob as another wave threatened to crash over you.
“Thass it,” Joel snarled. “Cum on me again, squeeze me nice an’ tight—Daddy’s right there, babydoll—fuck—Jus’ a little more, you want daddy’s load, don’t cha? Want daddy to paint that pussy with his cum?
“Oh-oh-oh…. yes daddy! Yes, please, aah, give it to me!”
“Gonna fill you up real good, babygirl. Gonna pump you so full it leaks outta you f’r hours. That what you want?”
You nodded, whimpering.
“Wanna feel daddy’s cum inside? You want daddy to breed his little bunny?” he whispered. “Put it deep so it takes?”
“Y-Yes…”
“Attagirl,” he groaned. “Thass it. Keep goin’. Let daddy finish.” You felt it in his breath, in the way his grip tightened, in how his thighs tensed under yours. He was really close. Then his hand slid up to your belly, pressed right over the bulge, and he growled, “Gonna fuckin’ stuff you, baby. Take every drop. Let it drip outta this cute little hole.”
His hips bucked once, twice, then he buried himself deep, holding you down hard as he spilled inside you with a long groan. You felt the sudden wave of warm stickiness filling your insides, his cum was so much it felt like a flood inside your pussy. Joels face and sounds as he came, and the throb of his cock, pushed you to the edge, dragging another climax out of you.
“Jesus… Christ,” Joel breathed, forehead dropping to your shoulder. His chest heaved against yours, heart pounding like a drum. He stayed buried in you, his big hands rubbing up and down your spine now, all that rough intensity fading into something softer.
“Look atcha,” he murmured against your neck, voice gone warm and gravelly. “Daddy’s perfect little bunny. Did so damn good ridin’ me.” He kissed the edge of your jaw, and let out a quiet laugh. “Told you it’d wear you out, didn’t I?”
And wear you out he did. Your thighs were sore, your pussy stretched open, you couldn’t even feel your hips. But Joel had that satisfied look on his face he always got after fucking you stupid. He lifted you off his cock, laying you down next to him on the bed. You felt the ache in your pussy, it was raw and swollen, dripping with his release, the evidence of him glistening down your thighs. Joel leaned back on his elbow, and then his eyes dragged down between your legs.
“Looka’that, babygirl,” his voice was low, you could see a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reached down, his thumb parting your folds just enough to watch his cum spill out of you. “See that? That’s all me, daddy filled you up good.”
Your cheeks burned as you whimpered, feeling the mess dripping down your skin. “Daddy…”
Joel’s thumb pressed higher, circling lazily around your sensitive clit, making you jerk. His eyes stayed locked on where his seed was sliding from your pussy. “Those are my little swimmers, baby,” he rasped proud. “They’re in there right now, movin’ up into your womb… tryin’ their damn hardest to breed my pretty girl.”
Your mouth fell open. “R-really, daddy?” you asked, your voice came out needy, almost innocent.
Joel let out a husky chuckle, leaning over you, his beard scraping your jaw as he kissed your cheek. “Really. Thass what they’re made f’r, baby, searchin’ for that sweet little egg so they can make you all round with daddy’s baby. Every last drop knows where it’s supposed to go. Right here—” his hand slid lower, pressing over your soft tummy, making you squirm.
He pushed two fingers inside your cunt without warning, scooping up the cum and pushing it deeper. “Can’t be wastin’ it out here on the sheets. Gotta keep it inside where it belongs.”
You shivered at the intrusion of his fingers into your used hole. They weren’t as thick or long as his cock, but that didn’t mean they feel less good. He knew exactly how to work them, how to curl them, where to press against the sensitive walls of your pussy to make your body twitched
Joel gave you that crooked smirk. “Bet they’re swimmin’ now, fightin’ each other to be the first to get you good an’ bred.“ His fingers pressed deeper, spreading your folds open so you could feel the sticky warmth pushing back into you.
Your heart pounded. “You… you want that?”
Joel’s gaze burned into you. “Want it more than anythin’, baby. Every time I cum in this tight little pussy, I think bout it takin’… think bout you round with my baby. You’d look so goddamn pretty, belly all full a’me.”
The thought of Joel breeding you made your pulse spike. The idea of him leaving a little piece of himself inside you, of feeling him so close… it sent shivers down your spine. You imagined the weight of his baby inside you, there was nothing you wanted more than to carry his child, to grow something that he gave you, to show him just how perfectly you could take him.
You whimpered, hips rocking up without even thinking, squeezing around the thickness of his fingers. “Mmm, daddy…”
“Uh-huh, thass it,” Joel coaxed, kissing your cheek before dragging his lips down to your neck. “Keep it all in f’me. Don’t waste a drop.”
Your lashes fluttered, your chest was rising and falling fast. “Feels warm… inside…”
“That’s ‘cause it’s workin’,” he whispered, so tender it made your stomach flip. “Thass daddy’s seed takin’ root. Nothin’ else I want more in this world than fillin’ you up over an’ over ‘til it sticks.”
You could only whimper his name, clutching at his shoulders while he held your hips and tilted you just right, so his cum would stay buried deep. “Good girl,” Joel praised. “Keep daddy’s cum right where it belongs.”
If you want more of these two you can check my Daddy!Joel Masterlist
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A/N: I wrote this in separate chunks over the course of about two weeks and proofread it before taking a nap, so forgive me for any mistakes or if I repeated the same stuff over and over. I tried my best, I swear😔
I hope you enjoy this one while I work on the final part of Poke the Bear, I don’t have an estimated release date yet, probably sometime next week.
Thank you so much for your support, every comment and message means the world to me🥹🩷
Joel cockwarming his girl, when she can’t sleep because of insomnia anyone????
“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” As he sees you waddling over to his room where he works on his desk. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, huh?”
You don’t hesitate—you climb into his lap, his hands settling on your hips as he leans back to take you in. He sets his glasses aside, eyes scanning your face, where tiredness still clings to your gaze.
“Can’t sleep.” You murmur, a pout forming on your lips, already nuzzling into his chest.
He coos. “Oh, my poor baby.”
He cradles you—softly, sweetly—his hand gliding up and down your back, fingers threading through your hair until he hears you mumble something into his chest.
“Wanna feel full.” you look up to him, big doe eyes trying to convince him.
“Sweetheart, i’m working right now. Can’t use distractions.” He answers, a sigh leaving his lips, hands rubbing up and down your arms.
You pout. “Please, daddy.”
And how could he ever say no to that? How could he ever say no to that sweet pout and those pretty, doe eyes?
He grumbles something under his breath, sliding your hips to sit on his knees. Then, he pulls out his half-hard cock, tugging at it a few times before signalling you to stand up.
You do immediatly, and slide off your panties.
And when he got you on top of his cock, he murmurs: “Easy, baby girl—you ain’t awake enough to take it fast.”
And when he slowly stuffs you with his cock, he chuckles at your glassy eyes closing peacefully, the small whimper leaving your lips and at the nuzzling back into his chest.
“No squeezing.” He demands as he puts his glasses back on.“Otherwise you can get your ass back to the bedroom.”
Satisfied with your hum as an answer, he starts working again. You on his lap, stuffed full, finally sleeping on his chest.
When he is done, he carries you—still impaled on his cock—to the bed and cuddles you to sleep.
And when he wakes up in the morning, fully hard inside of you, aching in need—he fucks you awake, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.
Description: Frankie keeps coming into your workplace and you can’t keep your hands to yourself. So what if he’s wearing a wedding band?!
It was doomed to fail, you knew it was. He was married, you’ve even met his wife! She’s nice but when he sees you time after time at the grocery store you work at, it is undeniable. His soft coy adorable smile and side glance when he’s with his wife. And the bold semi-awkward swagger that holds him a little taller when he comes alone. You work five days a week, and he comes in three of those days, always ensuring you’re working and see him. Of course, if you weren’t completely head over heels for him this would be super creepy, but you want more than anything for him to just ask you out!
One day he comes in and you spot him from across the store, The biggest smile overtakes your face and your eyes light up. Looking at his face is covered in age lines and wrinkles painting a picture of a life well lived. Deep smile lines from years of laughter, even deeper frown lines from decades of tears and eyes that have seen way too much.
“What’s got you smiling like that?” Your coworker Jenny asks. You cover your face with your hands and blush, not saying anything. “Oh come on you’re smiling like Jesus fucking Christ just walked in.” She glances at the door and sees a sleep-deprived man with a patchy beard and curly brown hair. “No.” She says plainly. “He’s old enough to be your father, babe! No!”
“I know. And he’s married.” You shake your head, now in your hands.
“Honey, walk away, don’t start this. You know how this story ends.” Her voice softens into genuine concern for you.
“I know but I need him.” You say knowing full well how ridiculous it sounds.
“You don’t even know him! You’re in a fantasy world!”
“I know but I need him.” You repeat not processing the words Jenny just said.
“You don't know him, how can you need him? Do you really want to be the other woman?”
“I just want a shot, ya know. Even if it crashes and burns and I get hurt. I’ve been seeing him here for months just looks and smiles. Jenny, I-” You pause preparing your words carefully. “I really really want to make this mistake.” You finish calmly. “Jenny, look at him, he's in his 50’s but his eyes are 23. I need to see what he’s seen, I need to see the world through his eyes.” You say happy to say it out loud and not just in your head, finally.
“You need to get laid, babe!” She says matter of factly.
“Well, there is that too. One day he knelt on one knee to get a box off the bottom shelf and I saw his.” You smile as she puts her hand over your mouth to make you shit up.
“Alright, hon. I’m not gonna stop you with that one. You know the risks, you know the soapbox I’m standing on because you’ve stood on it before. Be safe and call me if you need me.” She pauses, taking a deep breath before she continues. “A final bit of advice, go talk to him, initiate it.” Her voice is steady and fully lacks her usual sarcasm. You sigh anxiously and nod in response.
“Never put off for tomorrow something you can do today I guess.” You say quietly, your mother's voice echos in your head. You take a deep breath before walking out from behind the counter. He looks at you and your heart stutters as you fill with anxiety. You start to walk toward him and watch him stand a little taller seeing your intention to talk to him. You see shock followed by excitement followed by fear as his emotions display so clearly on his face. You get halfway to him when he starts to walk to meet you.
“Hi, umm I’m Frankie.” He reaches out to shake your hand. You grasp his hand and shake it gently. His hands are rough and so much bigger than yours.
“I’m.” You point to your name tag and he smiles. “It’s nice to finally meet, it seems like we keep just missing each other.” You smirk.
“Ha, yeah.” He looks at the ground for a second before running his hand through his hair. There’s a beat of silence before you chime in.
“Coffee?” You ask completely randomly. He laughs and you see his beautiful crooked smile.
“Love it!” He says holding that smile for as long as he looks in your eyes.
“Well I get off at 4, want some?” You ask, shaking internally unaware of where this confidence is coming from.
“Um well. I’m actually mar-.” He whispers the end of the sentence but you end it for him.
“Married. I know! It’s just coffee not wedding bells.” You laugh. Looking at the ground he furrows his brow a bit but smiles and nods when he catches your gaze again.
“Okay I’ll pick you up at 4?” He asks, your brain screams absolutely fuck no. You’re a young woman in a big city and as much as you like him, you don’t fucking know him.
“As long as ‘pick me up’ means walking with me two blocks down the street to the cafe on the corner!” He smiles and nods his head, a quirk you’re already developing a fondness for.
“Sorry I’m old school. It’s been a while since I ‘picked anyone up.’” He continues, putting his air quotes down. “So I’ll see you in two hours!” He says turning to walk out the door, he didn’t buy anything but he still got what he came in for.
“See ya then!” You say after him. You turn around your body filled with joy and anticipation. Crushing your arms to your chest you wiggle a little dance that no one has ever seen, well except for the couple people in the store with their eyes hesitantly watching you. You breathe deep breath, coming back to reality. You lock eyes with Jenny, a joyful panic across your face. She waves you over, faster and faster behind the counter. You cover your face completely and slide from the wall to the floor out of view of customers and cameras. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.” You repeat your mind racing.
“Damn where did that confidence come from?” Jenny said, kneeling down. “How are you doing hun?” she asks and you can't help but to respond.
“I am um I’m it’s I’m it it it’ll ya know.” You ramble nonsense until she places a hand on your shoulder. You look up slowly, the biggest smile and crying as release of tension. A year and a half of pining and passing glances. And finally, finally he was yours…..well…but I got a date. You finally vocalize your thoughts quietly screaming “I GOT A DATE!!!”
She looks at you and her face warms up. “You know, I’m proud of you. You’ve been eye fucking this man for months and you finally did something about it.” She grabs your hand and pulls you up to your feet. She tucks your hair behind your ear and says “Be safe and if you need me to kill him text me a pineapple emoji.” You laugh and nod your head.
“Fuck now I have to wait two hours!” You throw your hands up and walk away, smiling when you hear Jenny laugh at you. You fill your time with busy work and refreshing the end caps. Soon enough you look at your watch and see 3:55. You flood with anxiety and your stomach flips as you go pale. You clock out and head toward the big automatic doors, passing Jenny. She smiles and does a silent cheer that does its job and hypes you up as you feel the outside air. Finally no more stale, retail air. The air out here was so full of life, the smell of the wind, everything seems so vibrant.
You smell something on the wind that makes you smile, it’s his cologne, he’s worn it every single time he has come in. You spin on your heels and he’s behind you. He’s holding a small flowering cherry blossom branch with a pale pink rose and a vibrant pink dahlia, tied together with a thin silk pink ribbon.
How did he know? Was it just because I was a woman? He doesn’t seem like the type but, your thought was halted as he spoke for the first time
Okay what’s up with the pink?”
“Oh do you not like them? I asked your coworker….” He looks up and furrows his brow slightly like he is trying to think of what her name was.
“Jenny.” You finish his sentence with a smile. His eyes widen and form an adorable face.
“That was it!” He hands you the beautiful arrangement. You hold it and it is even lovelier up close, it seems like such a random arrangement of plant life. You look back up at him and he quickly looks away, like he wasn’t just watching you admiring his gift.
“They're beautiful! These plants don’t normally go together, who made this arrangement?”
“Oh, I did! I have a florist shop.” He smiles softly.
“That is so damn cool! Thank you!” You give him a side hug, mostly as an excuse to get close to him. “Coffee?”
“Coffee!” He says enthusiastically. You both walk a few blocks talking of nothing in particular.
The coffee shop looks like a cozy hole in the wall. Art covers the walls, beautiful wooden tables and colorful chairs; not one of which match. Plants of all sizes and types adorne the various surfaces. The sound of people talking and laughing is the first thing to hit you as you open the door. The very next is the smell, oh the smell. It is that kinda smell where you need to take a deep breath through your nose to really appreciate it. You get into the rather short line with him right behind you.
“This is my favorite place for coffee.” You say only with the slightest awkwardness that is bred into first dates. He’s so tall behind you, a comforting warm presence. The person in front of you moves on and the barista looks at you.
“Good evening what can I get for you today?” Her customer service voice was perfect, you thought to yourself before ordering.
“Three espresso shots over ice and an iced green tea.” You say confidently, your order hasn't changed in years.
“You’ve got that memorized.” He smiles down at you.
“I take the same at the bar, replace espresso with tequila and make the tea a long island.”
“Good to know!”
“What about you?” You look up at him as he asks for a large hot black with hazelnut.
“Anything else for you two?” You see a flash of deja vu cross his eyes for a split second.
“Coffee cake, have you had their coffee cake?” He asks you, before you can answer he confirms with the barista. “Two coffee cakes as well please.”
“Absolutely sir, anything else?” Her smile never breaks. You wonder if she notices that he’s wearing a wedding ring and you are not, but if she does, she doesn't say so.
“I think that's it, thank you.” he said sugar sweetly lined his words. You push his hand away and hand her your card.
“I got this one.” You smile as he chuckles from behind you and without protest just a smile and nod, you finish the transaction. Stepping out of the way you both walk up to the next counter and watch the well practiced woman make your coffees. “I was a barista for a while.” You say hoping to initiate conversation and without missing a beat he jumps in.
“Oh cool, where?”
“Just a local joint back home in Chicago, it was so much fun.”
Back stories and lives well lived spill from both of you as you talk over your coffees. As the sun set out the window you were seated at, the hours pass by like minutes with him. After the coffee cups had been thrown away and the conversation has turned to longing looks and comfortable silence. Once you reached your car he stepped closer and you reached out to run your hand up his arm. The silence held a truth he didn’t want to face. You see it on his face before he puts his hand to yours and says.
“Stop, stop, slow down. I can’t do it, I can’t cheat on her. I’m not in love with her, not anymore. I think I lov-” He pauses, clearly that was not supposed to come out shaking his head briefly before continuing. “But I made a promise. I need to talk to her before we do anything.” You admired his loyalty, well however much that word actually applies to him is up for debate. You nod, look up with a smile and stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek for admittedly longer than you should have.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You ask and he smiles, exhaling an anxious long held breath.
“Yeah, tomorrow. Do you work?”
“Of course, I’m always there.” You open the car door. “I wish that was a joke, but it’s just true.” You call out leaning on your door. He doesn’t do anything except smile, that warm smile that makes you never want to say goodbye. You get into your car and as you roll down the window he starts walking toward the car. Your breath hitches as his unwavering gaze shifts, from soft and warm to something sharper with a wicked smirk to match. He reaches a hand through the window
His forearm is - running his fingers up your neck he traces your jawline with his rough fingertips. “Tomorrow…” he rubs his thumb against your bottom lip. “I will finally get to kiss you.”
“I will count the seconds.” You say and his warmest smile returns to his face. He draws his hand back out of the car and waves you goodbye. You immediately call Jenny as you pull out of the parking lot, prioritizing safety over freaking the hell out.
incl: consent king, 18+ mdni, bit of pervy joel (not really), fingering, masturbation, voyeurism, oral f receiving, praise. both are consenting grown adults.
summary: you don’t know how to make yourself come, joel teaches you.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
He’s been your dad’s friend since forever. He’s seen you at every age, every birthday, every holiday. He’s the one who stopped at the store for your favorite snacks on his way to your dads. The one who heard about the boy who kissed you behind the bleachers at eighteen— and the one who noticed when there weren’t any other boys after that.
He’s always known you were good. Not just sweet to your father, but good: the way you blushed, the way you carried yourself. Joel never asked, never needed to. He could tell. Virgin. Untouched. That’s why sometimes his glances lingered too long, why he let his eyes drop to the swell of your tits when you leaned over, why he’d look away quick but not quick enough. Because he couldn’t really believe that you were one. How could you be one when you were that beautiful?
Your dad laughs like he’s trying to shake the walls down. It runs up the stairs in warm little waves, bourbon-thick and late, Joel’s lower rumble braided through it. You brush your teeth with the bathroom fan humming, stare at your face a little too long—flushed from the heat, from the noise, from the particular way Joel’s voice sticks to the skin—then kill the light and pad down the hall.
Your room is cooler. Quiet. The faint thud of ice in glasses below. You tug an old tee down over your bare legs and fold yourself into the bed. Friday nights like this usually end the same way: your dad pours too much, Joel refuses the drive across town, takes the guest room, locks the door, the house sleeps.
But you can’t. Not with the echo of Joel’s yes sir and no sir and the soft-fond way he told your dad, You always were a mean drunk, James, and the care in it, and the way he looked at you earlier, not at you, not really, but past you, like it hurt him to let his eyes sit there for too long.
You roll to your back and watch the ceiling and let your thighs slide together. It’s been bad lately—the restlessness. The canopy of summer heat, the way every brush of fabric feels like a secret. You think about his hands (wide, blunt fingers, scuffed knuckles that know a wrench from memory) and you immediately shove the thought away like you’re shooing a fly.
The house creaks. The voices go slower. A chair scrapes. Their footsteps on the stairs—your father’s heavier, the stumble that means he’ll be asleep in five. Joel’s comes after, careful, the way he is, like he worries about waking the house even when no one’s sleeping yet. Your door is mostly shut, the guest room two down from yours. His shadow cuts the hall for a second, then the latch clicks and—quiet.
You try to think about something else. You try to think about nothing at all. You kick the blanket to your knees, drag it back up, throw an arm across your eyes, shift, sigh, ache.
Eventually the hand that’s been pretending to just adjust the hem of your shirt stops pretending.
You slide your fingers under cotton and find yourself like you always do: hesitant, tentative, circling where it seems to help, too light or too fast or both. You know how to take the edge off. You don’t know how to do it right. Every time you think you’ve got it, the spark scatters and you’re back at the start, frustrated and hot and too aware of your own heartbeat.
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making sound. It’s not like anyone would hear. Still.
Down the hall, Joel lies on his back in the guest room and stares at the faint square of streetlight at the window and tells himself to sleep. He’s good at telling himself things. He’s good at should and don’t and leave it alone. Tonight, none of it sticks.
He hears it before he knows what it is. A soft, sharp little sound, cut off quick. Instinct makes him hold his breath. That’s not pipes or wind or the house settling. It happens again—barely there, like a hiccup of a whimper, swallowed as soon as it’s born.
His name isn’t on it. Still, his body recognizes it, some brutal and unkind piece of him already standing at attention like: there.
He’s up before he decides to be. Bare feet on cool wood, palm to the frame when the floor wants to complain. He tells himself he’s going to the kitchen. He tells himself your dad might have left the back door unlatched. He tells himself to turn around.
The slice of your door is thin as a blade. He doesn’t mean to put his eye to it.
He does.
You’re moonlit and messy, sheet trapped at your knees, shirt pushed high, one hand fisted at the collar like you’re trying to hold yourself in place and the other—he swallows—between your legs, fingers clumsy and stubborn. Your mouth is soft-open, lips damp. He’s never heard you make those sounds. He’s never let himself wonder.
He thinks he’ll back away. He doesn’t. He leans his shoulder to the wood like it can hold him up.
Wrong, he thinks. Every bell in his head clanging. Jesus, wrong. Turn around. Go back to bed. Close your eyes.
You gasp a little when your fingers catch right. He catches himself groaning under his breath, so low it hurts.
And then you turn your head just enough and see him. Not his face—just the bulk of him, the outline at the crack, the weight of him in your doorway like a craving you didn’t order but got anyway.
The noise you make isn’t loud. It might as well be a gunshot. What the hell was he doing there?
“Joel—”
It’s all you manage. He expects the next part to be go. He expects no. He expects the angry, righteous version of you that has every right to exist. None of it happens.
He opens the door instead. Steps inside. Soft click behind him.
The room shrinks around him. He doesn’t come all the way to the bed at first. He gives himself a second to see you properly and you watch him have to take it: throat working, jaw clenched, hands flexing like they don’t know what to do.
If you tell me to leave, I will, he doesn’t say. If you say stop, it’s done, he doesn’t say. It shows anyway—tight in his shoulders, careful in the way he stands there and waits.
You can feel your pulse in your mouth. “I… I didn’t hear you.”
“I know.” His voice is so low it feels like another body in the room. “Door was open.”
You swallow. “Are you… okay?”
His mouth tips, nothing like a smile. “Not the word I’d use.”
“What word then?”
He finally lets himself move. He comes to the side of your bed and sinks to the mattress like he’s afraid to make the springs talk. Up close he smells like clean sweat and old soap and the echo of bourbon on someone else’s breath. He puts his hand on the quilt and not on you, and it takes every atom of your self-control not to nudge your hip into his knuckles.
“Show me,” he says, and the way he says it makes whatever shame was scurrying around your ribcage go silent. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”
Heat stamps under your skin. “Joel, I—”
“If you don’t want me here,” he says, careful, measured, “say the word and I’m gone. I mean that.” His eyes find yours and hold. “But if you keep me in this room, baby, you do what I tell you. You hear me?”
The last gasp of panic tries to get a foothold and fails. You hold his look and nod, faint as a breath. “I hear you.”
“Words,” he says. It’s not harsh. It lands like a hand on the back of your neck, centering. “Say it.”
“I want you here,” you say, voice small and steadying as it goes. “I want you to watch.”
Something in his face flinches, like you hit him with it. It smooths to resolve.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and the way he praises you for that little obedience flips a switch you didn’t know you had. “Hands where they were.”
You drag your palm down, under the hem, shyer now that he’s watching, but you do it. He watches your fingers try the same circle you’ve been making for months, that prickly almost-pleasure that always runs away when you chase it too fast.
His brow pulls. He shakes his head once. “Mm-mm. You’re not doin’ it right.”
“I—It’s how I…”
“Yeah,” he says, soft, not mocking, “I can tell. Won’t get you where you want to go doin’ it like that.”
Your cheeks burn. You want to hide. You don’t. “Then… show me.”
He exhales like you just told him he’s going to live. He slips his hand under the blanket, rests it light on your inner thigh. Just weight, just heat. You shiver anyway.
“First thing,” he says, sliding his fingers up slow until they meet the crease where your leg and hip join, “you don’t rush it.” His calluses whisper the path, lingering, making nothing out of you until you’re shaking with it. “You think you want this”—he ghosts across your clit and you gasp—“so you mash at it and it runs from you. Don’t chase. Invite it.”
“I—how?”
“Let me.” He looks up at you like he’s asking for something he shouldn’t. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes,” you breathe, and then it feels like not-enough, and you push up on your elbows and say it like you mean it. “Yes, Joel. Please touch me.”
The sound he makes belongs in the dark. “You ask so damn sweet.”
He eases your hand away. His replaces it. He doesn’t go straight for where you want him; he skates around, between, slides through wet and hums low like he can taste you just from his fingers. He circles, lazy-sure, and presses down so faintly you could cry.
“That’s it,” he says when your hips roll to find more. “Let it ask.”
“Ask?” You can’t help the little laugh in the word, dizzy with nerves and want.
“Your body’ll tell me what it needs. I’m listenin’.” He drags in tighter circles and watches your mouth fall open, watches your chest lift, watches your thighs try to clamp around his wrist. “Keep ‘em open.”
You try to relax them. He rewards you with a little more pressure, just enough to make your eyes flutter.
“Atta girl,” he murmurs, and then gives you a command in the same breath like a tide turning. “Slower. Breathe with it.”
You match your breath to the way he moves you. He chases the breath with rhythm, spirals you outward and back again until you’re hot everywhere and the bed feels too small.
Then his fingers slide down, not inside, not yet. He teases your entrance with the pads and the slick sound he pulls from you makes his head drop. His chest rises against the mattress edge like he’s swallowing his own moan to keep it quiet.
“Joel—”
“I know, baby.” He strokes up again, circles, down again, and each pass makes the one after feel better until you’re twitching under his hand. “You’re doin’ good. Let me… yeah. Right there. Don’t run.”
You don’t. You try. You’re trying so hard you forget to be shy. You arch into it and whimper and he murmurs, “That’s it,” like each little sound is something he asked for and got.
“Gonna show you something,” he says, and you nod, dazed. “Gotta ask again, though. Let me inside?”
You blink at him, dizzy on the precipice. “W–Will it—”
“Just my fingers,” he assures, eyes gentled. “Not gonna take anything from you except what you wanna give.”
You nod. “Yes.” Then again, stronger. “Yes.”
He presses one finger in slow, careful as surgery. You go wide-eyed at the stretch—new, odd, so much and somehow not enough. He pauses, knuckles barely slipped past the first kiss of you, and waits. The burn melts to a full, glowy pressure. Your jaw unclenches. You exhale.
“Good girl,” he praises, and sinks the rest of the way with a groan that he bites off halfway. “Tight little thing.”
The words shouldn’t make your stomach drop the way they do. They do.
He curls, patient, teaching you the shape of him. He finds a rhythm that doesn’t scare your muscles; long, slow, learning strokes that make you gasp at places inside you you didn’t know existed. He keeps his thumb gentle on your clit—enough to keep the hum alive, not enough to tip you too soon.
Then he adds the second finger, and your hands fly to his forearm on instinct. He’s so thick there, so solid; you hold on like he’s going to take you somewhere you won’t be able to walk on your own.
“Eyes on me,” he says, and when you fight to open them he’s already looking, already there. “Don’t you look away when I make you feel good. Want you to see it.”
You breathe like you’re learning how. “Okay.”
He gives you the curve again, that curl at the front wall with the pad of his finger dragging perfect, and you choke on it.
“That’s the place,” he tells you, voice rough. “You feel that? That’s mine now.” He presses again and you make a helpless little noise that earns you a quick, ragged laugh in the back of his throat. “Yeah. Thought so.”
Your legs shake. The bed squeaks once, loud enough to make panic crackle between your ribs. Joel goes suddenly still, his whole body listening. Down the hall: silence. A deep, freighted snore from your father. Nothing else.
Joel’s shoulders drop. The hand not inside you moves, smoothing your hip, and you’re shocked by how tender the gesture feels.
“Breathe,” he whispers, eyes back on yours. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh.” The tiny sound you make trying to say yes is embarrassing. He looks like he could drink it.
“Gonna make you come,” he says, like a vow he has never broken, “and you’re gonna ride it, not run, and you’re gonna say thank you after, because I taught you and I’m real proud of how good you listen. Understand me?”
It’s so dirty it makes another pulse of heat wash through you. “Yes, sir.”
The word hits him like a hand. His jaw loosens and for a beat he looks stunned, then something mean-sweet flickers behind his eyes and his mouth crooks and he speeds his thumb a hair and curls his fingers just so and you—break.
It’s not like before. It’s not like anything. It’s bright and shaking and you feel it in your belly and your throat and the soles of your feet; you clutch his arm and sob out a muffled sound you’ve never heard yourself make. He keeps you there. He keeps you there. He talks you through it like a man with both hands on the wheel driving you out of a storm.
“That’s it, that’s it, look at me, that’s my girl—don’t hide your eyes—fuck, you’re so pretty—there you go, ride it out, ride it—good, good, good—”
When you come down you realize you’re panting, damp hair sticking to your forehead. He hasn’t moved his fingers yet; he’s watching you carefully, the kind of careful that reads as respect. When your body stops flinching around him, he slides them out slow.
You whimper at the emptiness. He swallows like it takes effort, like he wants to put them back because you want him to.
He looks at his hand like it’s not his. Then he lifts his gaze and something flares. He shifts, drops to his knees at the side of the bed like prayer.
“Joel,” you say, weak, already falling.
“Gonna taste you,” he says. He doesn’t move an inch until you nod. “Say I can.”
“You can,” you whisper. “Please.”
He fits himself between your knees and nudges them wide with his shoulders and drawers a hot, wrecked breath over you that makes you jump. And then he puts his mouth on you, open and slow and reverent in a way that feels like a lie coming out of a man that dirty, except it’s not; it’s real, it’s his tongue and his lips and the soft hum he makes when he finds where you’re sensitive now that you’ve come once.
He eats like a man who built the table. He uses his mouth like he’s been dying of a thirst he has to hide and now he’s alone with the well. He flattens his tongue and licks you like he’s laying paint, broad and sure. He focuses where you need, then leaves it and you whine and he comes back with a chuckle that slides into a groan.
“Sweet,” he mutters into you. “Goddamn.”
Your hands go to his hair and then stop midair because you don’t know if you’re allowed. He saves you from the uncertainty by catching your wrists and planting them on his head.
“Hold me,” he orders, voice muffled, and you do. He moans like you did him a kindness.
He teases you to the edge again and when you start to climb he changes his touch, gentler for a moment, letting you settle before he builds you back up. You realize he’s teaching you—what it feels like when it’s too much too fast, how to breathe through it, how to ask for more. He hums a question into you.
“More,” you gasp. “Please—more.”
“Good girl,” he says, and gives it.
The second time is quieter, deeper. Your hips roll to his mouth, your hands flex in his hair, tugging and pulling, and he anchors you with one arm slung over your thigh and belly at the same time, keeping you open for him, keeping you honest. You feel him groan against your skin and the vibration pushes you right over. You go wet and soft and shaking and he tongues you through it, patient, lazily greedy, like he’ll be here as long as you need.
You twitch when you’re too tender. He eases off, kisses the inside of your thigh—just once, soft, the press of a mouth that shouldn’t be where it is—and rises. He braces a forearm on the mattress and breathes, eyes shut like he just walked out of a storm and needs a second to recognize the road.
You’re staring at his mouth when he opens his eyes—wet, slicked with you, and he licks the taste away and looks pained with how much he loves it. The thick bulge pressed awkwardly against his fly is impossible to ignore; he’s hard, he’s been hard, and he’s not once touched himself.
“Does it… hurt?” you whisper, staring before you can stop yourself.
He huffs out something like a laugh and like a curse. “Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.”
“Joel…”
“Don’t you worry about me,” he says, soft but stern. “This was about you.”
You flush. It feels like a gift you don’t know how to carry. “I… thank you.”
His eyes close. It humbles him. It kills him. He swallows and nods like you just knighted him.
“Say it again,” he asks, hoarse.
“Thank you,” you say, and it lands in the room like a secret you both promised to keep.
He reaches for the hem of your shirt and eases it down, careful, modest now that he’s ruined you. He tugs the blanket over your hips. He doesn’t kiss your forehead, though you can feel him want to; he puts his palm to the sheet at your hip instead, warm through the cotton, a stand-in for a softness he isn’t allowed.
“Listen to me,” he says, and his voice is back to that guiding tone that made your body obey. “Next time you touch yourself, you’re gonna be patient with it. You’re gonna breathe like I showed you. You’re gonna go soft at first, then press, then back off. When you feel it building too fast, you’ll slow. You’ll ride it. You’ll think about my hand and how I did it. You’ll think about my mouth. You’ll think about me tellin’ you how.”
You can’t do anything but nod. You’ll think about me. As if you hadn’t been already.
“And you’ll keep your eyes open,” he adds, gentler. “Even if I’m not there.”
You whisper, “Yes.”
He stands like it hurts. It probably does. He looks at you long enough to burn a silhouette of this into his skull, then finally drags his hand down his face like a man trying to wipe himself clean. He glances at the door, at the hall beyond where your father sleeps.
“I shouldn’t have come in here,” he says, not apologizing, just stating a true thing he hates. “But I’d do it again.”
He turns. His hand hits the doorknob and pauses. “If you need me to stop comin’ round—if you feel different tomorrow—you say it, and I will. I’ll make excuses your dad’ll believe.”
You sit up on your elbows and the world teeters and rights itself. “Don’t make excuses,” you say, and it’s not brave, it’s just honest. “I don’t want you to.”
He groans like you pulled the stitch. “You’re so good.” It kills him. Truly.
“I—”
His hand lifts. “Don’t. Don’t say more. That’s enough to get me through the night.”
He slips out and draws the door nearly shut, the slim gap he first looked through gone. You lie there in the hush, pulse loud as a radio, his scent in your sheets like a bruise.
Down the hall, Joel closes the guest room door and stands with his back to it like somebody might try to break it down. He breathes until his heart quits trying to leave his chest. He puts his palm over himself and winces, not because he’s delicate but because he’s been holding the line until it cut him.
He tells himself not to think of your sounds. He fails. He tells himself not to think about the way you said sir like it belonged to him and to you and to that room and to nobody else. He fails worse.
He sits on the edge of the bed and puts his head in his hands and laughs once, quiet and broken, at the version of himself with a steady jaw who used to believe you could turn away from everything you want and live. Then he gets up, goes to the sink, fills a glass, gulps it, empties it, runs the faucet until the pipes knock, waits for silence again.
When he climbs into bed, he shuts his eyes and sees how you looked looking back. Opens them, sees the blank ceiling. Shuts them again, finds you anyway. He breathes through it. He bites down on his knuckle to keep from saying your name out loud. He takes what hurts and makes it his.
You lie awake and do as you were told: breathe, don’t chase, be patient with the feeling that rolls through you like a tide still dragging you toward him. When you finally drift, the last thing you know is not guilt or fear but the remembered weight of his palm through the sheet, the firmness of his voice when he told you what to do, the soft-proud way he said good girl like it was the first true thing anyone had given you in months.
Morning will come and make everything ordinary again. Doors will open, coffee will brew, your dad will say Christ, my head, and Joel will answer Yeah, well, that’s what you get, and he’ll rinse a mug and not look at you for three whole minutes like it’s penance, and then he’ll look and the world will tilt the same way it just did. None of that is now. Now is the hush after the tide, the ache and the glow and the lesson set in your skin.
Now is the part where you close your eyes and keep them open, both at once, and learn what it means to remember with your body.
note: i’m ovulating. okay? tend to push out a bit more joel smut when i’m this way…. lord help me. this is gonna have three parts by the way. and of course, maybe some drabbles if i wanna revisit these two. but omg i write way too much. i like to have easier things when i’m having a bit of writers block on some of my series. it helps get the creative juices flowing. i might just pile up a few in the drafts and post them throughout the remainder of the year because this is way too much. you guys, i literally stay up all night writing. someone take my device from me. this isn’t healthy!! but i love it. shhh!
please like, comment, rb, lmk how i’m doing & tell me if i should stop hahaha. thank you to all my honey buns that show my fics some love. you guys truly make writing that much more fun!
Warnings: BLOOD KINK, that’s kinda the fic, mostly Nick taking care of you with some spice 🥰
His warm blood slipped off his lips filling your mouth with the taste of metal. Immediately intoxicating, that you have to pull his bottom lip into your mouth and try to get more. He pushes your chest and moves you away from him slightly. “Baby, if I knew my blood did this to you, I’d take you on more missions.”
an: Nick Fowler or *cough* mafia Bucky, I wrote it as both but needed to edit it one way or the other to post, hope you like it.
Nick finally agreed to take you on a mission. You were to stay put and stay safe. At least you didn’t have to be away from him for weeks on end again. He didn’t tell you what he was doing here in Germany but he checked you both into a high class room.
You were still getting used to someone spending that much money on you. Granted the last time you apologized for asking for dinner, he made you cum until you were sobbing. So you’re getting better at letting him take care of you.
The hotel room was stunning! It looked like an apartment. Before you could explore much he pushes you up against the counter and kisses you breathless.
“Love, I’m off to work. Don’t answer the door or the phone. I’ll be back around 3am, I want you to be asleep.” He cups your cheek. His eyes have that shine to them that you only see when he looks at you. It makes your heart flutter and your breath hitch.
“I will try. I love you, please be safe.” You’ve had too many close calls of losing him, stray bullets, assassins, and everyone else who wants him dead. When he leaves, anytime could be the last. You hug him close, squeezing him as if this could be the last time.
“I will, baby. I love you too.” He gives you a final kiss and walks out the door. You lock it behind him and contemplate what to do for the next 7ish hours
Nick walks through the door to find you on the couch watching tv. As soon as he walks in you cover your face with a blanket and pretend to be asleep. He walks slowly up to the couch and rips the blanket off. He looks down disapprovingly, but this is the first time you’ve seen his face since he got home. You jump up to your feet.
“Oh my god baby are you okay?” You ask panicked looking his face up and down taking in all of the damage. His lip is bleeding and busted, his right eye is thick and swollen.
“I’m alright just another angry dead man.” He says with a smirk, which should not be so hot. Another thing that shouldn’t be so hot is the blood coating his bottom lip.
“Okay good. Sounds like he got what he deserved for hurting my Nick.” You look at the ground, nervous. “I- I,” you stutter. “Can I-” you bite your lip.
“What is it, gorgeous?” He raises an eyebrow and smirks at you. You cover your eyes with your hands and groan in embarrassment. “Use your words.” He says pulling your wrists down.
“It’s weird.” You whisper. He hums and waits for you to continue. “Can I kiss you?” You stare at the ground.
“Love, I’m bleeding.” He says confused, going to wipe his lip. You grab his arm and stop him.
“No! I know, I just…mmm” You moan impatiently and rush up to his face. You stand breathing in the smell of him. Gunpowder, blood, and scotch. He only smells like this after a deal goes wrong you think to yourself. Your noses brush against each other and you whimper. “Please?”
“Go for it baby.” He whispers against your cheek. You slide your tongue slowly out of your mouth and across his lips. His warm drying blood slips off his lips filling your mouth with the taste of metal. Immediately intoxicating, you have to pull his bottom lip into your mouth and try to get more. He pushes your chest and moves you away from him slightly. “Baby, if I knew blood did this to you, I’d take you on more of my jobs.” He chuckles and kisses you before quickly pulling away. He sits on the couch and pats his lap, you wiggle to straddle his lap.
“I guess being nearly electrocuted wasn’t enough for ya huh?” Eddie chuckles and you moan against his lips, furiously shaking your head.
an: It’s an Eddie and Volt x reader fic based on the game Date Everything! And the Taylor Swift song “Sparks Fly”
(this might be too niche) no matter as i wrote this for my wife and they loved it.
Volt carefully makes sure your thighs wouldn’t get shocked by moving his hair out of the way of your legs when he lays down.
“Fuck I can’t wait for you to sit on my face.” Volt groans as his fingers manage to gather all of his hair out of your way. Eddie comes up behind you and kisses your neck delicately, leading you up onto the bed gently guiding you into position above Volt’s face. Slowly you lower yourself onto his face and feel his tongue eager to meet your weeping cunt. Lapping and groaning before you even fully meet his lips.
Eddie crawls onto the bed and places soft kisses up Volt’s legs and up your back before settling in behind you. As his fingers skim your skin for the first time a little static electricity zaps you and you moan before your breathe hitches in your throat.
“Hmm, I guess being nearly electrocuted wasn’t enough for ya huh?” Eddie chuckles and you moan against his lips, furiously shaking your head no.
“Livewire,” Volt barely says, gesturing to his head with his silver painted finger nails.
“My mind forgets to remind me you’re a bad idea”
You rush to put your hand in his hair. Your fingers alight with electricity as you grab and squeeze your hand closed tight around his buzzing hair. Moaning you grind harder against his face loving the feeling of his electric 5’oclock shadow, you feel so intimately as you rock your hips back and forth. You can tell something happened because Volt goes from moaning to chuckling and licking into you like his life was dependent solely on it. You suddenly realize what he was laughing at when you feel the orgasam come rushing through your body and the release is so heavy you feel yourself squirt into his eagerly awaiting mouth.
“Fuck.” Eddie whispers from where he is watching this go down. On the bed behind you he softly runs his fingertips over your lightly sweat glossed skin. You shiver at the sensation and your after shocks, you climb off of Volt and lean down to kiss his soaking wet lips.
********
Eddie and Volt are filling your pussy and ass respectively and perfectly.
“Come on livewire, you must be so close sweetheart. Look at you coming undone beneath me, come on my spark, cum for us.” Eddie's rough voice talking you through the most intense and intimate orgasam of your life. He didn’t talk much out of the bedroom but fuck he could run his mouth between the sheets. Volts cock firmly in your ass and Eddie on top of you filling your pussy perfectly. Volt’s pubic hair provides a constant electrical stimulation at the top of your ass, shocking more as he grows closer to his orgasam.
“This’ perfect.” You moan as you cum hard around them both
“Shit, gonna cum oh fuck!” Volt shouts as the lights in the room begin to flicker and buzz loudly “Livewire!” as he cums filling your ass, he gasps and pulls out, you squeeze around nothing and feel him spill out of you. Volt goes back up to kiss you, as Eddie readjusts himself to thrust into your cunt with nothing held back. Bracing his large arms to either side of your chest he fucks into you like yours is the only pussy he’ll ever need. Deep eye contact broken by him burying his face in your titties.
“Mmfuck Eddie.” You moan against Volt’s lips and his electric five o’clock shadow.
“Damn Eddie don’t stop!” Volt begs his voice deep with desperation to watch you cum again.
“Wasn’t planning on it.” He bites back before doubling his speed almost to prove a point. You grab his bare arms and shoulders and cant help but squeeze around him. He ducks his head and groans.
“I’ll run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild.”
“Cum for me Eddie, please.” You plea in his ear as you run your hand through his short hair, grabbing a chunk and pulling. You both cum at the same time as the lights in the room shatter with the powerful electric pulses coming from Eddie’s body.
“I’ll fix it later.” He mutters sighing collapsing on your chest, you chuckle and kiss the top of his head. Volt climbs in next to you and wraps his long arms around the both of you.
“Good night my livewires.” He whispers somehow still with a flourish.
Summery: Reader get panic attacks in thunderstorms, reader has a chronic illness. Bucky comforts them and more ;)
Warnings: Oral r and m receiving, storm description to set the scene
an: summer storms are killing my spouse’s astrophobia, so I wrote this for them.
snippet: You can’t help but moan around him, as he sees that you are actually okay with this he lets the pleasure guide him and fucks into your mouth with nearly reckless abandon. “So close fuck gonna cu-oh can I cum down your throat, darling?”
“Bucky gets home at 9. I just have to hold out until he gets here. I’m okay, it’s going to be okay.” You say to yourself, before an ear-shattering crack of thunder shakes your house and you scream. Running to your bedroom you grab your headphones and start playing your loudest 40’s playlist. Reminding you of Bucky and blending the loud crashes and bangs with the trumpets and other brassy instruments that fills that style of music. You find a spot on the floor in a closet where you feel safe to wait. Boom after crack, shake after shake. Your breathing is stuttering and your body is vibrating with fear.
The door opens wide with a blinding light and your Bucky comes running in to kneel next to you. He is soaking wet and slightly out of breath from running through the house trying to find you.
“Doll I tried to text you!” His voice is soft but concerned, his touch is despratly eager.
“I don’t know where my phone IS!” You shout the last word as the thunder shakes the house again, this time the lights flicker and you cover your hands over your eyes. “S-sorry Bucky.” You stutter out.
“Take a deep breath for me baby.” He says just above a whisper, gently guiding you through a favorite breathing technique of yours. He’s so kind as you hyperventilating slowly evolves into a steady and consistent breath pattern. “Good, good girl, that’s it.” His words repeat from last night, but this time to help soothe you instead of praise you.
“Put these in your ears baby, they’re the ones I use at work when Walker opens his mouth.” You giggle and do as he asks, the silence is all you hear. Bucky pulls out his phone and puts on one of only three playlists on Spotify, the same horns and brass instruments from earlier erupts into your ears. ‘You’ve got to get a pair of these,’ you think to yourself before you feel the house shaking.
“I can still hear it.” You say apparently too loud as Bucky jumps back slightly you laugh and whisper. “Sor-” he cuts you off with a gentle kiss.
”No more sorry, Doll.” He kisses your forehead and waits for you to finish what you were saying, thankfully you held onto your thoughts despite how breathless you feel right now.
“It’s still so loud.” You whisper nearly panting.
“Sweet girl, keep breathing love.” He says loud enough for you to hear, you assume he's heard endless examples of just how loud you need to be to get the attention of the wearer of these.
“I can make them stronger but you won't be able to hear me.”
“Do it! We’re great at charades.” You chuckle and he taps one of the buds twice.
“ANC on.” The little voice in the headphones says and you can hear your heartbeat, you can’t hear him. You just hear Bucky’s playlist.
“I only feel th- the shake.” You say clutching the carpet as the house shakes with the ferocity of another crack of thunder.
“I’ll make you feel a shake.” You don’t hear Bucky's dirty joke but if you had, what followed would make more sense. He smirks when you don’t respond, verifying that you can’t hear him. “I love you peaches.” He whispers though you can’t hear him either way, a new nickname you’ve never heard and still haven’t.
“I see your lips moving but I can’t hear you.” You try to whisper not to be too loud. He smiles and drops his hands to his sides and suddenly he lifts two fingers to his lips and spreads them, flicking his tongue between them. You laugh at him and as you lean forward he wraps his arms around your shoulders.
“I love you Bucky, thank you.” You say, hoping you’re not yelling.
“I love you so much, now let me eat you out.” You can’t hear him but you take his inviting hand as he stands up and guides you over to your shared bed. You’d been together for a few years, you’ve shared this house for a lot longer though. The music blocked out any sound, but you can tell from Bucky’s reaction that some loud thunder just crashed.
“Couldn’t hear it Bu-” He kisses you to shut you up and pushes you onto the bed with a soft smile and nod. He runs his fingers up your thighs and removes your panties from under your dress. He grabs your hips aggressively and pulls you up to his lips.
Diving in like his life depended on it, must have been a rough day at work you think to yourself as he devours your cunt. Your left hand reaches for the bed sheet and grips as hard as you can as he gently bites your clit, rapidly licking at your clit like he’s got one mission tonight.
“Fuck Buck!” You moan and run your free hand through his hair pulling it taut and he groans moving his right hand between your legs and feeling how wet you’ve gotten for him.
“Mmm, my doll.” He gruffly moans as he plunges two fingers deep inside you, you feel him curl and extend his fingers as you send the other hand into his hair as well. Pulling hard, to make him give you more? You don’t know you just need him and as he adds another finger his tongue flattens against your clit, fluttering in such a tantalizing way. He moans as you pull another tug from his hair, cumming around his large fingers.
“Fuck Bucky!” You shout as another crash of thunder hardens Bucky’s muscles but you miss it entirely swept up in your post orgasam haze. He doesn’t stop fucking his fingers into you, his pace on your clit remains the same and the fires of over stimulation stir in your cunt as you build quickly toward another one. “Buck,” your voice is different, almost begging for something you can’t decipher but Bucky does. He adds another finger and pushes as deep as he can, you scream “Shit, shit, Bucky,” and cum on him again. Pulling his fingers out he sucks them into his mouth and groans like he wasn’t just tasting you moments ago. You cover your face with your hands as the embarrassment creeps up your shoulders.
“You taste too good to let go to waste.” You don’t hear Bucky say as he strips and you shuffle eagerly to the edge of the bed laying on your back with your head hanging off the bed.
“Saw it today!” You yelled forgetting he can hear you perfectly fine. “Whoops,” you whisper. “Buck will you fuck my throat please, look it’s perfect!” You open your mouth and he walks up to you slowly, sure enough it’s the perfect height for him to take you in this way.
“Are you sure?” Bucky takes a deep breath and asks you the same question in sign language, you sign yes over and over. He leans over and kisses your beautiful lips before lining himself up, he nods to you and you nod back telling him to continue. You find yourself locked in eye contact with him, he still seems hesitant. You stretch your tongue out and lick what little of his cock you can reach. “Bucky please, it’ll feel good baby.” You groan, eyes transfixed on his cock taunting you just out of reach.
“Don’t want to hurt you, doll.” You can’t hear him but you see his lips move and just reach your arms to his hips and pull him in closer. Before he can move away he’s in your mouth and he can’t resist now that your warm, wet mouth is so eagerly awaiting him. He groans and steps all the way forward so he's just a little closer. You moan around him and lick what he’s given you so far, licking the tip over and over special attention to the slit when he wouldn’t give you more.
“Bucky, I can still talk!” You say shouting on purpose this time, careful not to bite him. He doesn’t say anything you just see his chest rise in a deep breath before test thrusting, you can’t help the groan that spills out of you as he shallowly fuck into your mouth again and again. “Mmmgmore.” You can still talk and are annoyed with him when he gives in and gives you what you’ve been begging for. He takes a step and closes the gap between you two.
“Fuck this is- doll I,” he gasps out though you can only hear the music in your ears. He can’t help himself now, you knew he’d get here if he’d stop standing in his own way. You feel him fill up your mouth with his perfect size and weight you hum around him driving him too go deeper. “Shit I can see it in your throat, you okay sweet girl?” He asks forgetting that you cant hear him or respond clearly barely holding onto his thoughts. He lets himself go slowly at first, testing the waters as he finds his pacing and thrusts into your mouth. You cant help but moan around him, as he sees that you are actually okay with this he lets the pleasure guide him and fucks into your mouth with nearly reckless abandon.
“So close fuck gonna cu-oh can I cum down your throat, darling?” The first words you actually hear him say since the earbuds went in, as he stands there cock in your mouth and an ear bud between his fingers. You groan and don’t say anything, you just reach your arms over your head and grab his ass pulling him as far in as you could and swallowing deliberately around his shaft.
With a gasp and the sound of the ear bud hitting the floor Bucky stuffs your throat with all of him, no holding back now blinded by a need to cum he rips his hips with ferocity. With a strained moan he cums so far down your throat that you can't taste him until he pulls out. He kneels and kisses you, wiping the spit and a little bit of cum from your lips and cheeks.
“Mmm no more thunder?” You ask realizing you’ve been listening to the outside world for a little while now. He chuckles and you say “What?” You run your fingers through his long hair.
“S-stopped while I was eatin’ you out.” He slurs in his post orgasmic haze, still cocky enough to chuckle again though.
“You fucked me through the storm,” Your eyes are wide as they meet his heavily hooded ones. “Bucky that might be the hottest and kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” He smiles that crooked smile and kisses you again.
“Doll, anytime.” He whispers in your ear and bites it gently, feeling more like a threat than a promise, you couldn’t be happier.
