a wanderer

combo of retweeted memes, random shit, and most likely smut. If you’re under 21, I won’t be following back, sorry! 🤎 24. Call me MJ. She/her.

[wand-erer5]

New Fanfic Alert

Welcome. A few notes; (1) Reader is Black. In order for me to properly feel like I am balancing scales in the reading world, where even without making "white" features obvious.. there's the other haunting thing when observing media and race.. the great big assumption.. filling in the spaces or using bias. Well make no mistake, especially not assumption. All my readers will be black. That's how I feel I contribute to equality here. For every non-descriptive or blatantly white reader fiction I will make it known that black (and other POC) characters have just as much to give by being the intentional focus, in a society where they are often intentionally or unintentionally put out in preference for whiteness. (2) As it stands now, this a NO-OUTBREAK fic. Sarah is game age but I'm not sticking to 2003.. I was only 2-3 at the time so this first half is going to be set in 2015. Joel will be 34 still and reader is turning 26. This is an age gap but no more than 8 yrs. (3) There are some things far along in the plot and possibly along the way such as perspectives (and small things like humor in dialogue, trying something new and poetic w sentence structure etc.) that I may need other more experienced fanfic writers to assist me. So if you are an experienced writer stumbling upon this and OPEN TO being used for STORY HELP, please feel free to comment or message me so I know! (otherwise I will be selecting some randoms that I love and see if they'll help, once I get to those bridges.)

As always if there are any significant spelling or grammar errors or anything, sorry- please politely point them out and I will edit. And finally enjoy. Edited- made POV edits.. SORRY! that throws the reading off, my bad.

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SYNOPSIS: Joel Miller x Reader. You just moved into town after graduating. You've secured a year long position and often find yourself giving random childcare to your consistently unattended neighbor's daughter. What starts as judgment, misunderstanding, and miscommunication slowly... slooowwllyyy.. turns into a story of found family, forgiveness, and falling in and out of love.

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“You just don’t know how proud your uncle is! You know I feel terrible that I can’t be there to help you get adjusted, but hopefully you getting to live out my house for the next year or so on your own will suffice.” A gentle chuckle escapes from his lips, the sound across the line briefly fading out due to the connection at the Edelweiss Lodge. Uncle Sage and his new wife Carmen are there for their honeymoon; the first of many stops for the pair. 

“Especially since I couldn’t make it to your graduation, consider it just one big present- Damnit. I had an image of the house literally wrapped in a bow and I should’ve done it.” You laugh, immediately imagining him doing so before he continues. “But, I'll be checking in and making sure you're keeping my plants… our plants alive.”

“Of course, Uncle Sage. And I wish you were here too, but there’s plenty of time for you to show me around ol’ Texas. I mean, it’s not going anywhere. But, if you don’t show Aunty Carmen the world.. and why she’s agreeing to the rest of y'all's lives together, she surely will be going somewhere.. And it will be without you,” you joke. Both of their laughter drifts through the speaker as Carmen voices her agreement. “Okay, niece. Check-in soon,” Sage states and the call ends as the U-Haul arrives in front of his home. It's nothing out of the ordinary or particularly spectacular. A comfortable and quiet slice of suburbia tucked just outside of Austin. One thing you were grateful for was the bit of space and the yard. Something fresh out of college individuals like yourself would have to work another few years to afford. 

Fortunately, you were able to secure a decent newsroom internship at KLRU-TV. When you saw it was in Texas, you hesitated. But, then you realized you had Uncle Sage and he would not be able to say no to you staying with him rent free. Going farther south is not your first choice location wise, but it was too good to pass up. Uncle Sage relocated here many years ago after he retired from the military. Then, he met Carmen who is a Texas native and does a lot of close social work with minority communities and is involved with the TCRP. You’re beginning to think finding the type of company you’re used to, in Texas, won’t be as difficult as you assumed.

“Alright kid,” Mom states as she puts the heavy boxes on a dolly, “start stacking the heavy stuff.” The Texas sun is already beaming down hot in mid- June and you have never been more grateful your mom drove all the way down with you, trusting your younger siblings back home for a few days. She smiles brightly at you as she begins to pull the dolly. “Ready for a new adventure?”

You glance at the blue sky briefly before replying, “At the very least the neighbors better not call me any n-words or y’all are gonna get a call from a Texas jail.”

You both laugh and Mom quips briefly about how you “better not get locked up just because someone says a slur”. You think to yourself, “I hope for everyone involved, we won’t have to fuck around and find out”.  

“Okay, Mommy,” is your verbal reply.

………….

“Damn, kid. I'm breaking a sweat here. These boxes are heavy as fuck… what the hell did you pack.” 

You briefly stop at the door with the last of the boxes; the light stuff. Getting the heavy boxes on the dolly, then up the stairs about three times took you both out. “Oh, I don’t know, mom… my whole life.” She shoots you a raised eyebrow, but laughs at the sarcastic reply. You set the last of the boxes inside by the growing line of them near the steps, before crossing back to the kitchen to grab you both a bottle of water. You lean parallel to her against the door frame as you glance out into the neighborhood, taking a much- needed breather. You’re halfway through the water bottle, plastic crinkling when she says, “Now we just have to get the vanity, the dresser, and the large television.” You let out a loud groan at the reminder that your back is going to have to hang in there for the final haul. 

………….

Getting the rest of the stuff off the truck and inside, and the things already inside upstairs to your room, took another good two and a half hours. That includes stopping midway, in the sweltering heat, to complain about how ‘we don’t need a man but, it sure would be nice if the chivalrous kind existed and helped us carry this stuff.. Seriously, in all of Texas, no man on this street wants to help some young ladies?’ Your mom got a kick out of you referring to ‘us’ as young ladies. You actually have not talked to her in over a month, since moving in. 

You’ve been trying to get your bearings here. You know she’s just a phone call away, but you don’t want to rely on her so heavily that way. You want to be able to stand on your own two feet and just call her to check in, not because you’re lonely or can’t cope with the silence of being alone. Which you can. You’ve been waiting.. Dying.. To finally get out on your own. But as you began to grow up, you realized some complex things can exist at once. And that’s what makes this whole experience on Earth, as a human, fucking insane. How can you miss your mom and your siblings so much, but desperately wanted to stay away from them any chance you got while still living there..?

Work has been amazing, all things considered. No one likes working 40 hours a week. You certainly do not. You hate early mornings. Yet, you’re up just before the sun, out of the house as it appears, and home a few hours before it’s dark again. The sunset is the beautiful view in front of you now, as you drive home. 

Considering the pay for this internship and your love for the nature of your field, you can’t exactly complain. ‘I mean, this is what I went to school for right?,’ you think to yourself.

‘This is what everyone is expected to do whether they love what they do or not, is to work day in and out, just to buy sustenance and nutrients for survival..’.

You have to prove you have the right to exist in this world.. By working. So, you consider yourself lucky to at least like the workforce slavery you do. You should get out more, though. You feel you’ve established some of your workflow and adjustment in that area. You have no friends, though, no major networking. You pull into your driveway, the headlights illuminating the entire front as you debate swallowing down all your anxiety and going out alone.

You look down at your phone briefly. 7:57PM. It is still early. You should just get dolled up and go to that bar Sage says he loves. Maybe… *THUNK*. You startle as you hear a loud sound hit your car.

As soon as you open the door, you already hear a child-like voice shout, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. My god,” over and over. You unbuckle, open the door and begin to step out- setting eyes on a loosely curled mane bouncing with each step. Your neighbor’s kid. 

You’ve only spoken to her a handful of times, her often being outside playing (more often than not, by herself, but occasionally with kids from down the street) when you come home from work. Every day, like clockwork. Not once have you seen what obviously would be her guardian, because surely she cannot afford a house like that on her own. However, most of the time you see her like that… on her own. Every day she is outside, doing homework or playing with a soccer ball. Or reading or drawing. After school and outside by herself. If you were not primarily taken aback by the amount of time she spends alone, you would find yourself more impressed with how independent she is. And mature, to be spending her time in such a well-rounded way instead of putting off homework and watching television all day after school- until the front lock clicks, and then pretends to do homework when her parents walk in. The parent which you’ve never seen and your thoughts circle back to that every time. Naturally, you cannot commend her independence without considering what it cost her. You know that feeling all too well.. Which means you do not view whatever guardian she does seem to have (because she does act like she has home training) in a positive light. In fact, it isn’t until you've made your sleepy-time tea and curled up with a book in bed, that you hear an obnoxiously old truck rumble past your house and into the driveway next door. An hour or two.. Sometimes three, after the sun is set. Yeah, her guardian is not too cool in your book. 

“What the hell was that?” You frown as you slightly tip your chin down to look at Sarah. 

“I’m so sorry.. It was my soccer ball..” She teeters off and scrunches her face into a “yikes” expression. The kind of expression that says ‘we’ve talked about this already’. 

“God damn, girl,” You mutter as you close the driver’s door and look at the semi- symmetrically rounded indent. “I know, I know, I am so sorry. I really don’t want my dad to know, but I promise he would know someone that could fix this..” She mutters. Suddenly her eyes widen as she glances behind you, and you hear those old rumbles squeak to a stop and you both watch the whole time, as her dad pulls into their driveway.

Suddenly, you're holding your breath and you don’t know why. Are you finally about to meet the asshole who leaves their daughter alone, all the time, especially during night hours? It seems that way. And you're going to potentially ask him for a favor, to fix the dent in your car? You don’t know how you feel about owing a favor to this absent stranger so soon. You’ve lived here for a month now and are more comfortable with his 13 year old daughter and he has not so much as offered you a “Welcome to the Neighborhood” note. Prior to moving to Texas, that wouldn’t be a thing you would have even considered as a worthy tally against Sarah’s guardian to justify your assumptions of him, but Texas really is annoyingly full of “kind” and “hospitable” folks. You have not been able to take a leisurely stroll in this neighborhood without someone saying something to you. That’s only just started dying down, because it’s not hospitality but plain nosiness. 

The driver’s door slams shut and your eyes skim the top of dark curls peeking from the other side of the truck and you shoot a glance at Sarah’s curls. By the time your eyes come back up, you see two brown worried ones, cushioned by a few stress lines and a sharply constructed nose. Your eyes begin to dart to other places trying to latch onto all the physical traits that are supposed to be.. Sarah’s dad. Damn. 

You focus your eyes back on his worried face as the first thing he spotted was Sarah in your yard. Probably, from the moment he pulled up which is a shocking thought, that he could be so attentive. But, he does not take his eyes off Sarah as he approaches your yard. Seemingly observing anything that physically could be observed, to verify if she’s okay, not just in the physical. And without tipping me off to his concern and distrust of the stranger who his daughter is next to. Unfortunately, you’ve been observing this anticipated stranger as much as he’s been observing her. So by the time your eyes finally meet, you’ve been tipped off that he’s concerned and does not trust you. 

You offer a polite smile and state, “You must be Sarah’s legal guardian. Nice to finally meet you.”

[time-for-my-weekly-spanking]

You should come three times a week - sub!Jackson!Joel x dom!f!reader.

Rating: Explicit, MDNI WC: 2,8k Summary: When Joel discovers that you, his neighbor in Jackson, were once a mistress, he decides to ask for your help in unleash something that has been buried deep inside him for a long time. Tags: trading coffee for sex, Joel’s pov, dom!reader, sub!Joel, edging, oral (Joel receiving) , unprotected p in v, reader is on the pill, nipple play, panties as a gag, balls slapping (once), face slapping (once), mention of a chastity device (used on Joel hehe), pet names, reader is described wearing jeans and t-shirt, no other details added, dirty talk (reader has a filthy mouth and I love that for her), begging, Joel is smitten with you (as he should, honey), cum eating, no mention of age, mention of handcuffs, anal plug, and spanking, an unrealistic amount of time passes before Joel cum but bear with me, please and thank you, mention of whiskey, mention of Tommy and Maria. A/N: I promised a sub!Joel and here we go, babes (gn)! Wrote in a frenzy, up until four hours ago, I had like 800 words written, LMAO I don't know what to say, my brain is either completely mushy or working at lightning speed. (No, I haven't been diagnosed, but I'm aware of it) Unedited, please forgive me for my mistakes, English is not my first language. I really hope you like it!

dividers by @/pixopix

Part 2 - Broken glasses, blurred outlines

No one knows in Jackson, but the big, grumpy, old man everyone calls when something break worships the ground you walk on. 

He’s completely smitten with you. 

At night, when Jackson is nothing than wind running through houses and snow falling silently, Joel comes to you. 

Two times a week, you said. Nothing less, nothing more. And he accepted, cause he really couldn’t do anything else.

You scratch something in him he’s not willing to share with anyone else, fearing to be judged or ridiculed. 

You’re a professional, though. 

You were a long time before anything happened. 

Back in your town you had a club and many people were willing to pay good money to get there. 

So, yeah, you did that for a living. You knew how to be authoritative without being cruel, calm, controlled, balanced, exquisitely sadistic without ever being excessively overbearing.

Joel overheard one of your conversations with your friend Lauren months ago at the Tipsy Bison. 

And came to you the evening after asking for your help. 

He approached you outside the sheep pen, just as you finished feeding them. 

You weren’t surprised, nor even embarrassed. 

“Come at ten tomorrow," you said "But Joel, I have some rules. First, always take a shower before. 

Second, you need to choose a safe word. Something immediate and easy to remember. 

Third, you’re not going to talk to anyone else about this.

Fourth, payment always upfront. 

We clear?” 

He nodded “Yeah. What do you want in return?”.

With a defiant look, you replied, “Coffee, if you can find it. I'm sick of this crap. Bring me some real coffee, and I'll take you to heaven.”

You winked at him and he felt his knees go weak.

Joel traded some fine quality coffee for you. He practically had to beg Seth, which he didn't like at all, but it was worth it. 

And that's why he’s here tonight. You’re his outlet every Wednesday and Saturday night.

The more time passed, the more Joel fell for you but he would never say that out loud. 

As he steps into your house, he hands the small bag to you and you bring it to your nose, inhaling the coffee aroma, moaning “mmm I missed it so much” 

Hand brushing on his neck, his cheeks immediately heating at the sound you just made, his cock already aware of your presence twitching in his jeans, he blabbers “I know it’s your favorite” 

And you coo “thank you darling” looking at him with a smile.

It’s fucking ridiculous the way he instantly folds for you, he’s lucky he knows how to hide that in public because his brother would be the first in line laughing at him. 

You place the small bag on the kitchen counter, asking him if he likes something to drink. 

“Whiskey, if you have any. Neat, please” 

“Of course” you nod, taking two glasses and a small bottle out of a cabinet. 

Your home is like you: no frills, tidy, warm.

Inevitably, his eyes fall on your ass, hugged by tight jeans, as you turn your back on him.

You don't need fancy clothes, your charm and confidence are enough in a pair of ripped jeans and a T-shirt.

Joel swallows, quickly looking up before you notice he was checking you out.

As the warm liquid slides down his throat you prod him “so, what do you want tonight?” gulping down your drink immediately after. 

“Up for you to decide” he replies, taking another sip. 

His hand wrapped on the glass shakes a little in anticipation while you tilt your head to the side, biting at your lower lip. 

“Mmm let me think…” your eyes go up and down on him, from head to toe and Joel immediately feels small under your gaze. 

The power you hold on him creeps on his skin, goosebumps flaring all over his body. 

A smirk curls your lips when you finally speak again “on the couch, baby. I’m going to edge that pretty cock of yours” 

Joel heads to your sofa, his legs already wobble at the thought. 

You kneel on the carpet in front of him, your confident hands fiddling with his boots, pulling them off and throwing them behind your back. You unbutton his pants while his body instinctively moves to help you pull them down to his ankles.

“Spread your legs” 

He does, not missing a second of your focused gaze.

“Wider” you command, placing your hands on his thighs and pulling them apart. 

Glancing at the bulge in his boxers, you tease him, “Someone's already hard,” and your hand closes around the outline of his cock.

You rub it through the fabric, licking your lips, while Joel feels like he's about to melt into the leather of your sofa.

“Please...” he whispers imploringly, looking worriedly at the wet spot forming under your fingers.

Your amused smirk does not suggest that you feel sorry for him. “Oh, honey, you said I could decide... are you giving up already?”

Joel shakes his head, trying with all his might to control himself, feeling the vein throbbing and swelling on his shaft. “I...no.”

“Then behave yourself. I've only just started.”

His hips tremble under your touch, he tries to adjust himself, change position slightly, but his cock continues to leak. 

And it's even worse when you slip your hand inside his boxers, skin on skin, your thumb rubbing against his slit, collecting his precum.

His breath catches, his head is empty, confused, it's hot, too hot in the room.

He groans at the loss of contact when you pull your hand away, but you do something worse immediately after.

You slide your thumb between your lips, onto your tongue, moaning theatrically as his taste spreads through your mouth.

“Jesus,” he curses, feeling his heart beating like a drum in his chest. It's not one of your most thoughtful games, it's just that he's feeling particularly impatient tonight. And he's not sure why he told you that you could decide, he could have asked for more immediate gratification, he could have let himself be spanked, put on a pair of handcuffs and let you ride him while he couldn't touch you, maybe he could have asked for the plug that you miraculously kept along with a few other items.

But no, because deep down Joel likes to give you control, to let your dominant personality take over while he takes a break from constantly making decisions, trying to be a decent father to Ellie, directing the construction of new buildings, coordinating patrol shifts... it's reassuring to leave his tough guy mask at the door from time to time.

“All right, it's time to play hardball, my dear,” you tell him as your fingers hook onto the elastic of his boxers. “Show me.”

You pull down his boxers, and his body has already decided for him before the message can reach his clouded brain, and he bends to your will.

His hard cock slaps against his stomach, big, sore, engorged, and dripping.

Your eyes sparkle at the sight. “God, I have to admit, I haven't seen a cock like that in years, sweetheart,” you praise him as your hand closes around its length.

Joel runs a hand over his forehead, convinced he's about to explode, this close to spraying your face. “Uh, control yourself now...” you warn him, “you can't come until I say so. You don't want me to lock you up again, do you?”

“Oh no, no, no, no,” he hastens to say, gritting his teeth, followed by long sighs to curb his excitement.

That week was hell. He was perpetually aroused, needy, his cock locked in a device he didn't even know existed. He had to find an excuse to skip patrol because the idea of riding a horse with that thing on made him break out in a cold sweat.

 Pumping him, without losing sight of his face, you whisper, “You can always use your safe word, but I don't think you want to.”

“No,” he grunts. He really doesn't want to, not while your hand moves up and down, not while his eyes are fixed on his skin retracting and covering the tip rhythmically, not when every movement of your wrist shakes his body.

And just when he's at his limit, when your hand slides easily over his wet shaft,  a lewd sound fills his ears...you stop completely.

His angry, red tip throbs an inch from your face, his hips twitch, a sound of disappointment rises from the back of his throat.

 You smirk, licking your lips. 

Your hand rises high and slaps his balls.

Joel is stunned. The pain spreads across his stomach, hot and stinging.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” he cries out.

You wait patiently until the sharp pain in his body subsides, massaging the spot where you struck him.

“It’s okay, baby, you’re okay” you reassure him. 

You take his rod back in your hand, pumping at a faster pace.

Joel grits his teeth, his chest rising and falling desperately as he tries to find a steady rhythm, his throat as dry as a desert. Yet he would never ask you to stop for any reason.

He is mesmerized by your hand, by your confident, hungry gaze, by your slightly pouting lips, by your furrowed eyebrows as you concentrate on figuring out the exact moment to stop. 

You can feel it in the way it throbs between his fingers, in the way his vein swells, in the way his precum drips profusely from his tip. You lean in and lick away the last drops, showing him your tongue smeared with him. Joel feels his eyes blur.

You swallow and smile at him. “We're almost there, sweetheart, just one more time,” you coo, stopping again, caressing his thigh, your nails grazing his skin, making it redden, while Joel silently pleads with God or whoever.

“I'll let you ruin my pussy later, would you like that? Do you want to stuff me with your big, fat, gorgeous cock?” Your voice is tempting, smooth, singing in his ears like a spell.

“I—fuck—yes, please,” he mumbles, feeling his hair stuck to the back of his neck and his cheeks burning.

You bite your lower lip and murmur, “Good boy.”

As soon as you feel him calming down, you start again, this time with your mouth, while your hand surrounds his base. 

Your tongue teases his tip, short, sweet kitten licks that leave him breathless. He doesn't know how he's held back, but the thought of coating your walls helps him now. 

One more time, just one more time and I'll get to sink into that honey, he thinks. 

Your lips close around his mushroom, sucking quietly.

It's overwhelming to look at you. It's overwhelming to hear the way you groan. Joel squeezes his eyes shut as he feels your moans vibrate along his shaft, invading his groin. 

He's one step away from exploding again when he feels you slide him deeper, onto your tongue, taking as much of his cock into your mouth as you can. His tip is at the back of your throat, your gag reflex takes over for a moment, before your jaw relaxes and adjusts to him.

You hold him there, as your spit gathers around his shaft, your swollen lips tight around him, your nose grazing his pubic hair.

When you release him with a lewd pop, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his slit, Joel is exhausted, sweaty, the need to ram his cock into your pussy pounding in his temples.

“You've been so good to me,” you praise him, before standing up and taking off your jeans.

 Joel squirms on the sofa when he gets a glimpse of your wet underwear.

 You take off your panties, balling them up, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. 

You straddle him, his hands instinctively grabbing your hips, helping you settle on top of him.

What he doesn't expect is for you to shove your panties into his mouth. And when you do, when your taste hits his tongue, he lets out a long, muffled moan.

“Mmm, you like that, don't you? You like having your mouth full of me? I know, baby, if you behave yourself, next time I'll let you drink straight from the source.” you whisper in his ear, wrapping your arms around his neck.

 Joel cries, grinding his teeth around the fabric. A slap hits him squarely in the face, leaving him stunned. His wide eyes stare at you, as if he is struggling to process what has happened. 

“Stop whining,” you order.

Joel falls silent, too afraid that you might change your mind when he's literally bursting to feel your cunt. 

He likes the way it hurts on his cheek, warm spreading across his face, tingling on his skin. 

You take his shaft, slowly lowering yourself onto him. His gaze drops to your entrance, obscenely stretched to take him in.

Inch by inch, he feels your arousal dripping onto his cock, your walls widening, your nails digging into his shoulder.

When his tip kisses the deepest part of you, you sigh, “God, you're so big,” and Joel feels his hips tremble, his hands tighten on your thigh. 

“Fuck me, Joel. Hard,” you whisper naughtily in his ear. 

He begins to move, a string puppet at your whim, so eager to please you, so grateful to feel your pussy clenching around him, your walls fluttering, your mewls growing stronger, your hips rocking in time with his. 

“Fuck - just like that” you hiss, merging with the squelching sound of your cunt. 

He spits out your panties, letting them fall onto the sofa. By now, he no longer cares if you punish him.

One of his hands moves up your back, pulling you toward him, his mouth closing over one of your breasts through your shirt.

You're not wearing a bra, as usual, which drives Joel wild every time his eyes catch sight of your hard nipples.

 He sucks hard, just how you like it, thrusting deep inside you, rhythmically and steadily. 

Before meeting you, he hadn't been with a woman in years. Before meeting you, he didn't even know he still had sexual desire.

The way you turned his world and all his certainties upside down, the way you held him in the palm of your hand, should terrify him.

The truth is that between your thighs, savoring your body, letting you rule him with a iron fist, he feels freer than ever.

With you bent over him like that, he manages to reach that special spot, he can feel it from the way your back tenses like a violin string under his hand.

His teeth close around your nipple, his saliva dripping onto the fabric, as you push your breast against him and your fingers intertwine in his graying curls. “Yes, yes, like that—fuck—oh my God, Joel.”

You're vulnerable now, incoherent as you beg him not to stop, as you scream his name and your pussy grips his cock tighter and tighter. 

Your eyes are veiled with tears, yearning for an orgasm that is about to wreck you completely. 

“Do you...do you want me to come inside you?” he stammers hesitantly.

You haven’t allowed him to do so until now, even though he knows you traded a good supply of birth control pills with Maria.

“Yes” you whine “just - fill me up”

He lets himself go to the sound of your voice, long thick streams of his seed hitting your walls, as he feels your body shaking and letting itself be overtaken by your climax. 

Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck as he holds you close, sweat dampening your shirt, your hips slack and your breath ragged as you moan your pleasure against his skin.

When you look him in the eyes again, you exhale “damn” and Joel feels terror running up his spine. Maybe you regret it, you don’t want to see him anymore, he shouldn’t have come inside you, you weren’t clear-headed enough to answer him.

 But then you smile, your hand sliding onto your thigh where his seed is dripping down. You wet your fingers and bring them to your clit, drawing lazy, indulgent circles on it as you catch your breath.

Joel's heart calms down as his eyes linger on your digits. 

“You are... incredible,” you coo “Thinking about it, you should come three times a week.”

Joel smirks, pride swelling in his chest “Should I?”

“I think so,” you reply softly before silencing him with a kiss.

He basks in this small victory, thinking that maybe one day he’ll be able to tell you that he’s totally, hopelessly in love with you.

absolutely npt for some people who showed interest in this wip when I shared the mood board in a tag game: @missadangel , @aurorawritestoescape , @rosharanfiction , @milla-frenchy , @ess-evo , @baronessvonglitter

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think, comments and reblog make me so happy! ❤️

[felysha]

Jonathan Joss was an Indigenous, gay man who was murdered on the first day of Pride month as well as Indigenous History Month. He died protecting his trans husband. Homophobia and racism aren’t marks of the past, and this is a heart breaking reminder of that.

Praying for a safe journey back to the spirit world, Uncle ❤️‍🩹🦅

[felysha]

Today is the anniversary of the death of Jonathan Joss (King of the Hill, Parks and Rec). Jonathan Joss was an Indigenous, gay man who died protecting his transgender husband, on the first day of Pride month. Today we remember him and how he protected his family.

[strangelure]

a shared interest

inspired by this ask that fucking changed my life, hope ya'll enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing it! as always comments and reblogs are appreciated xoxo <3

perv roommate! adrian chase x reader & coworker/stalker! benjamin poindexter x reader cw: stalker behavior, voyeurism, adrian and dex are possessive, obsessive and perverted freaks, reader clearly doesn't know how to set up healthy boundaries, mentions of masterbation. content is obviously 18+, MINORS DNI.

"hey, you should come up with me!"

dex feels in real time how the blood rushes to his face at your sudden request, sure, he's imagined you saying it countless times inside his head but that doesn't mean it startles him any less to actually hear it coming from your mouth-

an open invitation to step inside your home

"what?" he almost chokes on his own spit when he asks

"its fucking pouring out here dex, theres no way i'm letting you drive under these conditions!"

it really wasn't this abysmal when he had first parked in front of your apartment complex, but of course he stalled for as long as he could, prompting and asking trivial questions to keep you on the passenger seat if only for a few minutes longer before you left him to sulk without your presence

"its not that bad" he answers, masking his nerves with a quirk of his mouth and a dismissive shake of his head, attempting to sound convincing while the downpour is hitting hilariously loud against the windshield of his car

"i can brew you some tea, y'know as a thank you for driving me home!" you crack a shy little smile, softening your features, something you have no idea makes dex's insides go molten

mostly everything you do has that effect on him now, the infatuation nearly consumes him whole on most days, at night he stares at the white of his ceiling counting the torturous minutes until he gets to see you again, sometimes he allows himself to play around with fantasies just to make the time passing more bearable

and its ironic how many of those fantasies began with something just like this, a cheeky invitation, a killer smile, being offered to tag along with you, a chance for him to finally step through the front door of your apartment, to have you beneath him in the same bed he's watched you sleep in (from a distance) countless times by now

but reality is quite different from his fantasies, in reality theres one huge and fucking pestering detail that would constantly foil his imagined scenarios from coming true the way he wants them to anyways...

"you can meet my rommate adrian! remember i told you about him?" you say, eyes lighting up the way they always do whenever you bring him up in conversation

dex fucking loathes to witness it, he seethes at the knowledge that the guy can make you smile like that even when he's not around

"that doesn't sound like a good idea" he near spits, the jealousy seeping from his words

"god, you say that about everything lately sourpuss" you answer, giggling when you see how dex gawks at your tone

you've always loved calling him names and pushing his buttons knowing all he ever does is give into you in the end

theres a beat of silence, a moment of you and dex staring at each other with quirking mouths, waiting in charged silence to see who pounces next

but then your phone buzzes-

"its him!" you say, a little bit concerned "he's asking me if i'm gonna be home anytime soon-"

dex cant fight the satisfied tug upwards of his mouth knowing he's managed to keep you from going back to adrian for this long

"oh no!" you exclaim, something high pitched that makes dex immediately snap his head towards you "i totally forgot today was keanu reeves movie night!" you whine with a little pout, texting adrian back frantically "damn it, i'm late!"

"sounds like a big deal" dex retorts with a mocking quirk of his brow, an unimpressed look on his face as he stares you down while you tap at your phone

"oh shut up dex!" you answer with a laugh that bursts naturally from you, heat evidently rising to your cheeks at his teasing

hes relishing in the way you playfully rolled your eyes at him before he can process you're already shoving your phone away and stepping out of the vehicle and into the downpour outside "just get outta the car already! you can wait out the rain upstairs-"

dex freezes in place for a few seconds, mouth hanging agape, eyes blinking a couple times in astonishment

he cant fucking stand that you left him alone without saying a proper goodbye or goodnight, he cant find it in himself to disobey your direct command either

dex steps out of the car in fear of disappointing you

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

adrian is practically fuming as he stares at his phone screen, he keeps re-reading your texts over and over again

you: sorry! just got here, car broke down so dex drove me here

you: he's coming up by the way, play nice!

"are you fucking kidding me?" he whines out loud, a petulant sound no one is around to hear him make

dex, basically his nemesis, the person you spend almost every waking hour with ever since he got paired with you at work, the person who is supposedly just a coworker but you somehow can't shut up about when you talk about your shift at the end of every day

the person he's tried to convince you countless times is actually a fucking creep because you keep telling him he constantly remembers details about your life the way no one ever has before, that he pops out outta nowhere in places where he most definitely should't be in the first place

it all sounds far too familiar to adrian, who used to pull the same stunts with you back before your friendship ever solidified into the suffocatingly codependent arrangement that it is now

its funny how things worked out so beautifully for him all things considered

so of course it makes him furious, that it only took dex just a couple of months to infiltrate your lives so profusely

now he wants to steal movie nights too, he thinks

adrian's jaw twitches in anger, he breathes in and out slowly, trying to calm himself down before the elevator brings you both to the floor of your shared apartment

he jumps to his feet immediately when he hears your keys jingling and turning at the lock, not unlike a dog does when it hears it's owner come back after a long day

theres not even a few seconds between opening the door and you flinging yourself inside to wrap your arms around adrian's neck, hugging him with a chirpy and syrupy "hey ade!" that immediately makes his insides flutter with satisfaction

adrian hugs you back, wrapping both arms around your waist tightly, lifting you up until you squeal in protest and giggle the way you only do with him

he wants to make a statement, that much is clear, his face lifts from its place at the side of your neck to make eye contact with the tall and broad man standing at threshold of your home

adrian grins smugly at him while dex only cocks a challenging brow in response

"what happened to your car?" adrian asks, still hugging you, still holding suspicious eye contact with dex "why didn't you just call me?" he asks, more like complains, his voice going high at the end

"ugh! dont know! i couldn't get it to start but-" you answer, separating from adrian just enough to look back at dex who instantly meets your eyes with an encouraging raise of his brows and an easy smile "i was so lucky dex was still hanging around late after work, y'know with the rain and all, we can call the mechanic tomorrow-"

oh sure! real lucky, adrian thinks

adrian sees himself in dex immediately, and it really pisses him off

it only takes your dear roommate a few seconds of eye contact to figure out that dex was the one to ruin your car today, that the only reason he stayed behind at work was because he wanted to be the only one you could ask for help

y'know- exactly the kind of thing he would have done not so long ago

dex knows that adrian is growing suspicious, but all he does is stand upright and unmoving, a relaxed look on his face even though inside he's plotting violent acts

you cant sense it but theres a competitive antagonistic edge that emanates from their beings, their jealous and deranged fixation on you so fucking palpable to each other it makes the air feel dense and flammable

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

dex knows something about your dear roomie that you most certainly dont 

he's known it from the very first week of him setting up a place in one of the top floors of the building just across the street from yours, the optimal high spot to spy on you through your window as often as he pleases

the third or fourth time he'd peered from his monocular and into your room to try to catch a glimpse of you getting ready for a friday night, thats when dex saw him

your roommate, tugging at himself with utter abandon on your very bed, face pressed down against your pillow

dex knows that adrian barges into your room sometimes when you're not there to stop him, that he makes himself at home amongst your things, that he grabs at any piece of clothing that you left on the floor and stuffs it right against his face to inhale your smell while his other hand slips inside his boxers, that he jerks himself off and smears his spent all over the piece of fabric, tosses it in your laundry basket and waits for you to come home only for you not to notice a single fucking thing

he also knows adrian's bugged one of your teddy bears with a small camera, that the thing has recorded and streamed up close the same scenes dex has only been able to watch from a distance

scenes of you, writhing in bed, a hand roughly placed over your mouth, stifling down your moans as you use your fingers to please yourself until you're arching up the bed, shaking and panting at the ceiling, blissfuly (and naively) unaware of the spectacle you're giving away to two very invested spectators

two spectators with right hands shoved down their underwear, mouth hanging completely open in awe at the sight of you, one watching from his computer, the other from across the street

and lucky for dex, almost as if it were a prize for him remaining at a distance at night-

he gets to have you all for himself for roughly 8 to 10 hours per day, the recent memories of his stalking still vividly playing inside his head as you and him carry on with your lived in routine of coworkers

and the thing is, recently, the lines between professional and friendly are starting to blur alarmingly fast

he could sense the shift in you when he started showing up on nights out with your friends (unexpected and uninvited) and you never even questioned it once

smiling so big at the sight of him, like it was only natural for him to be joined at your hip after spending so much time together on weekdays

always quick to drunkenly introduce him as "my partner, dex!" proceeding to needlessly correct yourself with "well- my work partner, my- cowork- ugh, y'know what i mean!"

he teased about it every single time "i think i like the sound of partner way better, makes it sound like i'm your boyf-" a giddy grin and an evil glint in his eyes when you could only push at his chest with a nervous laugh and a high pitched "stop it, this is so fucking inappropriate dex!"

he thrives in knowing the so called boundaries you had once set up for him at the beginning of your work relationship are slowly starting to crumble before his very eyes

dex relishes in knowing you've grown weak willed when it comes to denying him your attention and time outside of work too

now he gets to stand in your living room, a placed he never imagined he would be in so quickly, now he gets to square up and compete with the last person that stands in the way of you and him being together 24/7

and thats your damn pervert of a roommate

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

"i know what you're doing by the way" adrian comments, his voice far too casual and conversational for the threatening edge it carries with it

he does it as soon as you're out of earshot, soon after you excused yourself to go take a quick shower and change before starting with the movie night

"what i'm doing?" dex retorts, a sly quirk of his mouth at the irony, eyes closed while shaking the towel you gave him over his dampened hair, smelling you all over it too, feeling his heart race knowing its gonna linger on him for a bit

"uh huh, i'm on to you-" adrian shoots back, his voice going tight and considerably deeper than how it sounded when he was talking to you just moments ago "they might not be able to tell that you're a fucking creep dude, but i can!"

dex scoffs, the nerve of this fucking guy, he thinks as his eyes instinctively scan around the room for possible murder weapons, but he already knows that if he were to throw or stab anything at adrian, that still wouldn't be nearly enough to be rid of him

dex has watched you both long enough to know that adrian is a metahuman, a hard to kill metahuman at that

so no, even if he would very much like to, murdering adrian is not an option (yet)

so they just stand there, fuming at each other, while adrian is a fiery wave of feelings, dex remains a tense but ticking time bomb

dex cracks his neck once before he asks with a deceivingly calm tone of voice and a self assured cock of his head "what about what you're doing buddy?", he smirks at the way adrian's eyes go huge for a single fleeting moment

"huh?! i- im not doing anything! the fuck are you talking about?" adrian retaliates, the nervous quickness of his words painfully giving him away already

"you're kidding right?" dex retorts simply, with a quirk of his mouth and a challenging knowing glint in his eyes "the teddy bear?"

in an instant, adrian realizes that dex is far more stealthy and far more deranged than he ever gave him credit for

now, the consequences are here to bite him in the ass

if dex is going down, he is damn sure gonna take adrian with him

adrian huffs, his jaw goes taut, his fingers flex over where he would regularly have his sheathed knife, but then-

"m'kay! im ready" you say, extra cheery, wringing a towel around your hair, freshly changed into your comfy shorts and a shirt that most definitely belongs to adrian

despite their growing tension, they both turn to you like a pack of wolves waiting to ambush their prey, pupils going wide at the sight of you

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

adrian is clearly feeling insufferably smug when you're sitting on the couch between them both but your head is resting against his shoulder the way it's always done on movie nights with him

he leans his head over yours, a tight lip smile on his face when he hears the way dex sniffs out a frustrated sound

"i think i should head back now" dex's voice is wound tight as he lifts up abruptly from his side of the couch

truth is, he cant really stand another second of having to share you

"wait, no!" you say, grabbing at his hand instantly, something that makes dex's eyes open wide, his face to go red and adrian to seethe "the movies almost over, dont you wanna see how it ends?"

"i've seen it before" he lies, and he can tell you can tell, but that doesn't deter him at all, his nostrils continue to flair in anger, his hand remains clenched tightly around yours, like he's one bad move away from forcefully tugging you upwards with him

when he doesn't relent or doesn't move an inch backwards thats when you groan out "okay, fine! let me walk you out at least"

"i can come with-" adrian blurts out, eagerly and pathetically so-

"oh dont be silly ade, i'll be right back!"

dex practically has to rein himself in from not chuckling at the distraught look on adrian's face in response to your dismissive comment

he's also subtly smug about it, already planning on how he's gonna steal away precious minutes with you downstairs, maybe he'll have you in his car again when you least expect it

but then, your phone buzzes again

"oop one sec!" you get up from your place on the couch, walking towards the kitchen to answer a call that immediately leaves both adrian and dex befuddled and frozen in their spots

they both listen in on your conversation of course, like the fucking creeps they are

"yeah okay, perfect, ill see you then!" you say, right before hanging up

"uh- who was that?" adrian asks, a knot forming in his throat at the flirty tone of voice you were using on the phone

"oh just this guy i met at the bar the other day, gonna meet up with him tomorrow" you smile and shrug innocently, going to grab at your keys without even sparing them a glance

you're far too busy putting on some shoes with the purpose of walking dex out to notice your coworker and roomie staring at each other, a shared panic in their eyes, they were both so worried with themselves they failed to take into consideration something like this could happen

its a shame you can't see how their antagonistic flare silently reaches an understanding, the acknowledgment of a shared interest now being at risk

you, going out with some guy that isn't either of them (the two possessive weirdos who basically own your days an nights)?

stupid of you to think that could ever happen

as truly fucking selfish adrian and dex are, it's clear that they would rather coexist being freaks about you than not have access to you at all, and after your little phone call? they evidently would rather cooperate than have to see you get involved with anyone that isn't them

so, one things for certain now, that guy you met at the bar? you're never seeing him again

[honey-moon-13]

Lover boy... PART TWO.⋆♱

ℌ𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡! 𝔍𝔬𝔢𝔩 𝔐𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔯 𝔛 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢! ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

PART ONE .⋆♱

.⋆♱ summary: It is no secret that many men don’t particularly enjoy their wives having a group of friends to go out with, unwind with, laugh with, and come home late from. Joel Miller has never understood that. He likes watching you get ready. Likes the music drifting from the bathroom, the dresses laid across the bed, the way you turn in front of the mirror and ask him what he thinks as if he is not already half in love with every version of you. He likes knowing you have a night that belongs to you. Because when it is over, when you are warm with cocktails and laughter and ready to come home, you always call him. And Joel always answers. He shows up with your playlist already playing, cold juice waiting in the cupholder, and enough snacks to prove he knows you better than anyone. He thinks he has planned for everything. But he has not prepared for what you decide to do with the peach rings. .⋆♱ a/n: Since I can’t get husband!Joel out of my head, I had no choice but to write a second part to Mirror, mirror on the wall... Hope you enjoy it!!!🦋 .⋆♱ warnings: Smut at the end, Domestic Fluff, Tipsy Reader, Drunk Flirting, Light Dom/sub Elements, Switch Dynamics, Sub Joel Miller, Use of “Good Boy”, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Food Play, Candy, Light Cum Play, Aftercare, Gas Station Snacks As Foreplay. .⋆♱ wc: 8.962  k .⋆♱ Request for Joel and Tommy Miller are always open <3

Joel managed to get the front door open without dropping you or the snack bag, which he considered a decent accomplishment, given that you had apparently decided the safest way to be carried was to make yourself as distracting as possible.

You had one arm looped around his neck, your cheek tucked warm against the side of his throat, the other hand half heartedly trying to reach the juice bottle he had trapped against his ribs. Your shoes dangled from your feet, the little heels knocking softly together every time he took a step, and every few seconds your mouth brushed his skin in a way you were absolutely going to pretend was accidental if he called you on it.

Joel kicked the door shut behind him. “You gonna let me get you upstairs in one piece?”

“I’m helping.”

“You are actively not.”

You lifted your head, eyes bright in the dim entryway. “I’m just appreciating you—again.”

“That what we’re callin’ it?”

“Mhm.” Your fingers pressed into his shoulder with drunken solemnity. “Veeery strong. Veeery handsome. Excellent husband carrying service.”

Despite himself, Joel huffed a laugh. “Glad to know I’m meetin’ standards.”

“You exceed them.”

“That so?”

“You picked me up, bought me snacks, played my songs, let me sing, and didn’t complain once.”

“I complained internally.”

“You don’t get points for that.”

“I should. Took discipline.”

You gasped softly, scandalized. “Were you judging my singing?”

Joel started toward the stairs. “I was admirin’ your confidence.”

“That means bad.”

“That means loud.”

“I gave you a private concert.”

“Baby, half the street got that concert.”

Your laughter broke open against him, and Joel felt it through his chest, through the arm he had wrapped beneath your thighs, through the hand steadying your back. He loved you like this in a way that still caught him off guard sometimes: bright from a good night, loose with affection, made softer by laughter and alcohol and the certainty that he would always show up when you called. There was something almost dangerous about how happy you were in his arms, not because he feared it, but because happiness had a way of making him careless. Making him forget that he had spent most of his life bracing against things disappearing.

Halfway up the stairs, your lips pressed to the side of his neck.

Joel stopped on one step.

You went very still against him.

“Darlin’.”

“What?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “That your mouth teasin’ again?”

You smiled into his skin. “Maybe.”

He closed his eyes for one long second and kept climbing. The house was dark except for the stair light and the warm glow spilling out from the bedroom at the end of the hall. Everything smelled faintly of your perfume from earlier, softer now, clinging to the rooms the way it clung to his shirt, mixed with cold night air, salt from the chips, and the sweetness of juice from the bottle in the bag. Joel adjusted his grip and told himself that stopping on the stairs with you whispering nonsense against his throat was a bad idea.

A spectacularly bad idea.

“You’re awful pleased with yourself tonight,” he muttered.

“You like me this way.”

“Unfortunately.”

“You love me.”

“Also unfortunately.”

You lifted your head, offended but smiling. “That was mean.”

“That was honest.”

“No.” You tapped his chest with one finger. “You love loving me.”

Joel reached the landing and looked down at you.

The teasing eased between one breath and the next. The hallway light caught the side of your face, the faint smudge beneath one eye, the last worn trace of gloss at the corner of your mouth. You looked tired and bright at the same time, held together by the afterglow of the night and by a trust so complete it made his ribs feel too tight.

His voice changed before he could stop it. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.”

Your smile softened.

Then, because neither of you knew how to let tenderness stand unprotected for too long, you kissed his cheek and murmured, “Good answer.”

Joel shook his head and carried you into the bedroom.

The room still held the remains of the version of you that had left earlier. One dress lay folded badly over the chair. Another had slipped halfway from its hanger. A makeup brush waited near the vanity beside the gloss you had reapplied before leaving, and the perfume bottle stood uncapped as if you had abandoned it mid thought. It was messy in the way only a loved room could be messy, full of choices and softness and evidence that you had been there becoming yourself.

Joel set the snack bag on the bed first, then lowered you carefully to your feet.

The second your toes touched the floor, your fingers caught the front of his shirt.

“No,” he said.

You froze, eyes wide. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You were fixin’ to.”

“Maybe I just missed my husband.”

“You had me in the truck.”

“That was supervised.”

“By what?”

“Traffic laws.”

Joel laughed despite himself and let you tug him down just enough for one kiss. It was warm, sweet, almost innocent at first, until you tried to follow when he pulled back and your hand tightened in his shirt.

He caught your wrist gently. “Bathroom first.”

Your face fell like he had ruined Christmas. “Joel.”

“Makeup off.”

“But I’m home now.”

“I noticed.”

“And you’re here.”

“Also noticed.”

“So why are we discussing skincare when all I need is you?”

“Because you’ll wake up mad at yourself if I let you fall asleep like this.”

“I’m not going to fall asleep.”

Joel gave you a look.

You considered. “Not on purpose.”

“Bathroom.”

You sighed with your whole body. “You’re being extra bossy.”

“Somebody’s gotta keep you alive after midnight.”

“I am thriving.”

He crouched before you before you could build a stronger defense, one hand circling your ankle as he lifted your foot. Your laughter faded while he worked at the tiny strap of your heel, his fingers careful despite their size, brows drawn in concentration. Joel could handle lumber, wire, concrete, stubborn doors, stripped screws, and men twice as loud as they were useful. But with anything delicate that belonged to you, he slowed down like patience itself was part of the touch.

For all the heat that had been simmering since the truck, this was what made you quiet.

He noticed.

Joel slipped the first shoe off and set it by the dresser. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

He glanced up from where he was kneeling at your feet. “Baby.”

Your mouth softened. “I just like when you do that.”

“Take your shoes off?”

“Take care of me like it’s normal.”

His expression shifted. Something gentled around his eyes.

“It is normal.”

“For you.”

“For us,” he corrected.

The words landed softly enough to make your eyes shine, and Joel felt the answering ache of it somewhere under his breastbone. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol making you tender, or the night settling in, or the fact that being cared for without having to earn it could still surprise you sometimes. Whatever it was, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee before undoing the second strap.

“Don’t start cryin’ over footwear,” he murmured.

You laughed immediately, swiping carefully beneath one eye. “Shut up.”

“Makeup.”

“Oh my God.” You snatched your hand away from your face. “See? Supervision.”

“Been sayin’ that.”

He stood, gathered your heels, and took them to the closet while you wandered toward the bathroom with less wobble now, though enough that he stayed close without making a point of it. On the way, you found the juice and took another long drink, eyes half closing with satisfaction.

Joel leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms folded. “Water after that.”

“This is technically fruit.”

“Water.”

“Fruit has water.”

“Not enough.”

You lowered the bottle and gave him a look through the mirror. “You know you get very bossy after midnight?”

“Yes.”

“Hot.”

His jaw shifted. “Wash your face.”

You grinned because you knew exactly where the word had landed, but you turned to the sink anyway.

Watching you get ready had felt intimate. Watching you undo it was something else entirely. Earlier, there had been music, choices, performance, anticipation. Now there was the quieter version: you tying your hair back badly, missing a few strands by your cheek; Joel stepping in without a word to smooth them behind your ear; your eyes finding his in the mirror and staying there a beat too long while water ran in the sink.

“You know,” you said, reaching for cleanser, “I could have done this alone.”

“Never said you couldn’t.”

“You followed me.”

“You asked me to.”

“Did I?.” You rubbed the cleanser between your palms, then paused, looking at him through the mirror with a little smile. “I guess that I like that you come when I ask.”

Joel’s eyes lifted to yours.

The sentence could have been innocent but with you, specially tonight, it absolutely was not.

“What?” Your smile hid behind your hands as you started washing your face. “I’m cleaning.”

“You’re startin’ somethin’.”

“I can multitask.”

He exhaled through his nose, half laugh, half warning, and reached into the cabinet for a clean towel. By the time you rinsed, the night had started coming off in soft streaks: mascara, blush, the last traces of gloss. The water carried it down the sink in faint colors, leaving your face bare and flushed, your eyes still bright but softer now, no longer dressed for the room outside but for him.

Joel handed you the towel.

You patted your face dry and lowered it.

He looked at you for a second too long.

“What?” you asked.

His voice went quiet. “Just like seein’ you.”

Your expression softened, and he reached past you for the moisturizer because he knew the small jar now, knew you would forget it if he let you rush. You watched him unscrew the lid and hold it out without comment.

Your eyes widened. “You remembered.”

“Course I did.”

“That’s cute.”

“It’s just moisturizer, baby.”

“You are cute.”

“I am not.”

“You are when you’re pretending you aren’t.”

Joel gave you a look in the mirror. “Put it on.”

You did, still smiling.

Once your face was clean and your skin taken care of to his satisfaction, he handed you the bottle of water from the nightstand. You drank under protest, then drank more when he kept staring, and finally handed it back with a muttered, “Tyrant.”

“Livin’ with me is hard.”

“Sooo hard,” you agreed, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

He let you have that one.

Back in the bedroom, Joel sat you on the edge of the bed and brought the snack bag into your lap as if presenting tribute to some small, demanding queen. Your whole face lit up again.

“My chips.”

“Your chips.”

“My juice.”

“Also yours.”

“My water, apparently.”

“Definitely yours.”

You opened the barbecue chips first and offered him one. Joel shook his head.

“You bought them,” you frowned.

“For you.”

“Take one.”

“Darlin’.”

“Take. One.”

He took the chip because marriage was mostly knowing which battles weren’t worth the energy, and you looked deeply satisfied when he ate it.

“Good boy.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours. “Watch that mouth.”

You smiled like that was exactly the reaction you had hoped for.

He sat beside you and started taking the rest of the night off you piece by piece. First the bracelet, his thumb steadying your wrist while he worked the clasp. Then the necklace, your hair lifting as he moved behind you, the chain slipping cool into his palm. Then the earrings, which required more patience because you kept turning your head to talk just as he was trying not to stab you.

“Hold still.”

“I’m trying.”

“You’re talkin’.”

“I can talk still.”

“No, you can’t.”

You put another chip in your mouth and tried not to laugh while he removed the second earring.

“There,” he said, setting both carefully on the vanity tray. “Still got both ears.”

“You’re very skilled.”

“I know.”

“That was arrogant.”

“That was earned.”

You leaned back on your hands, bare feet swinging slightly above the floor, face clean, jewelry gone, dress still on, chips in your lap. The contrast of you almost made him smile: all that beauty softened into comfort, all that heat folded beneath domestic ridiculousness. Joel had always liked thresholds. Doorways. Porches. The last hour before sleep. Moments where one thing became another. Here you were, halfway between the woman who had walked into a bar glowing and the woman who would crawl into bed beside him later, steal his warmth, and deny it in the morning.

He liked every version.

You reached into the snack bag again. “What else did you get?”

Joel glanced back. “Vinegar chips.”

“I saw those.”

“Well, you like options, don't you?.”

“And surprises.”

His mouth twitched. “That too.”

The your hand found the gummies.

You pulled out the bag of peach rings and went completely still.

For one second, there was only silence.

Then your face changed with such delighted disbelief that Joel felt both proud of himself and immediately concerned.

“You bought me peach rings.”

“You said chocolate made you sick last time. So I got somethin’ else.”

You looked down at the bag again, and this time your smile turned smaller, sweeter, as if the ridiculous bag of gummies had become something weightier in your hands. Maybe it had. Maybe marriage was not always in the grand declarations, but in remembering what hurt someone’s stomach last time and choosing differently under fluorescent gas station lights.

You opened the bag and took one out, holding it between two fingers. “They’re cute.”

Joel sat back beside you. “Gummies are cute now?”

“This one is.”

“It’s shaped like a tire.”

“It is not shaped like a tire.”

“Tiny sugar tire.”

“It’s a peach ring.”

“That’s what they’re callin’ it.”

You laughed, then slipped the soft gummy onto the tip of your finger like jewelry and held your hand out with great ceremony. “Look. You brought me another ring.”

Joel looked at your hand.

Then at your face.

The joke was obvious. Silly. Even sweet.

And then he saw your eyes.

There it was.

The shift.

A brightening at the edge of your smile, a pause that lasted half a second too long, an idea arriving and making itself comfortable before he had a chance to object. Joel knew that look. He had seen it in the truck when your hand moved on his thigh. He saw it now, with a peach ring balanced on your finger and the snack bag rustling in your lap.

“Wathever you're going to ask, the answer is no.”

Your smile widened.

Joel pointed one finger at the gummy. “That is a snack.”

“But it can be two things.”

“It is not gonna be two things.”

“You don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I know exactly what you were thinkin’.”

“Oh,” You tilted your head, all innocence and danger. “Do you?”

He stared at you for a second, then looked away toward the ceiling like a man asking for strength from a God who had clearly abandoned him hours ago. “Jesus.”

You laughed softly and crawled closer on the bed, the snack bag sliding to the side. Joel stayed where he was, but every line of him sharpened with attention.

“You bought me juice,” you said.

“I did.”

“And chips.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And gummies.”

“Regrettin’ that part.”

“You took my shoes off.”

“Somebody had to.”

“You helped me wash my face.”

“You were gonna skip moisturizer.”

“You took off my jewelry.”

Joel’s eyes came back to yours. “Where you goin’ with this?”

You lifted your peach ringed finger between you both, studying it with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “I’m just saying you’ve been very good to me tonight.”

His jaw tightened faintly.

There it was again. That little thread pulled taut.

“Baby,” he said, warning wrapped around the word, though not nearly enough of it.

“What?” you asked softly.

“You ate two chips and half a bottle of juice. Don’t start makin’ plans on an empty stomach.”

Your expression warmed at the care in that, even as the mischief stayed. “Then feed me with something else.”

Joel went still.

You seemed to realize what you had said at the same moment he did.

The room quieted.

And the air between you grew thick enough to feel.

Joel’s eyes dropped to the peach ring on your finger.

Then lifted back to your face.

You smiled slowly.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured.

“You keep saying that like it’s going to help.”

“It usually does.”

“Maybe.” You shifted closer, your knees brushing his thigh. “Or maybe you like the part where I don’t listen.”

Joel let out a quiet breath through his nose. “You are pushin’ your luck.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

You held the peach ring near his mouth, not touching him with it, not yet. Just letting the offer hover there, soft, sweet, absurd, and suddenly far less innocent than anything bought under fluorescent lights had a right to be.

Joel looked at it.

Then at you.

“You think this is funny.”

“I think you’re handsome.”

“That is not an answer.”

“I think you’re very handsome when you’re trying to decide whether to be responsible or let me have my way.”

His mouth curved despite himself, but his eyes had darkened. “You always think you’re gettin’ your way.”

“I usually do.”

“Because I let you.”

You leaned closer, voice dropping. “Then let me.”

Joel held your gaze, and for a moment he did not look like the man who had carried you upstairs and made you wash your face and drink water. He looked like that man’s restraint pulled thin, like every careful thing in him had heard your tone and gone quiet to listen.

Then his hand came up, wrapping gently around your wrist.

Your breath caught.

He did not pull the gummy closer. Did not push it away either. He only held you there, your hand suspended between his mouth and yours, the peach ring bright and ridiculous around your finger.

“You sure?” he asked softly.

Your smile steadied into something clearer. Less tipsy now. More deliberate. “Yes, Joel.”

He studied you for a long second, looking for anything he would not like. Uncertainty. Fogginess. The kind of looseness that meant you were playing because the night had made decisions easier than they should be. But what he found was familiar. Your mischief, yes. Your warmth. Your want. But also your trust. Your awareness. Your eyes fixed on his because you knew exactly what it did to him when you asked sweetly and meant trouble.

Joel swallowed once.

Your thumb moved against his fingers. “You took such good care of me tonight.”

His grip tightened slightly.

You lifted your other hand and set it on his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. “Let me be sweet to you now.”

Joel’s eyes closed for half a second.

When he opened them, the decision was already there.

He released your wrist, leaned back against the headboard, and looked at you with a kind of quiet danger that made your whole body go still.

“Alright,” he said.

Your pulse jumped.

Joel’s voice dropped lower.

“Show me.”

You smiled like you had been waiting for exactly that.

Not permission, not that. Joel knew better than to think you needed permission to be trouble in your own bedroom. It was something else; an opening, a door left unlocked, a shift in him so subtle anyone else might have missed it and so obvious to you that your whole face changed around it.

The bedside lamp softened the lines of him: broad shoulders, tired eyes, mouth threatening a smile even as his gaze darkened with every inch you crawled closer. The bag of peach rings sat open beside your thigh, bright and ridiculous against the sheets, and Joel kept glancing at it like it had personally betrayed him.

You slipped another soft gummy over your index finger and held it up.

“With the peach ring?” you asked, before he could say anything.

“With whatever thought just went through your head.”

The humor sharpened, warmed, slid into something heavier. You could feel it in the way his grip settled more firmly at your side, in the way his breathing slowed like he was trying to control it, in the way his gaze kept returning to the peach ring on your finger as if the idea had already occurred to him and he hated that you’d been the one to put it there first.

You lifted your hand between you both, studying the gummy with exaggerated innocence. “You know…”

Joel exhaled once. “I ain’t gonna like this.”

“You might.”

“I know that tone.”

“This is a perfectly reasonable observation.”

“Baby, nothin’ about you has been reasonable since you got in my truck.”

“That’s not true.”

“You tried to seduce me while I was drivin’.”

You laughed softly and inched closer. “And you liked it.”

His jaw shifted.

You saw it.

Joel saw you see it.

His voice dropped. “That ain’t the point.”

“It feels like the point.”

You held up the peach ring again, letting it rest at the tip of your finger. “I was only going to say that something bigger than a finger could fit through this.”

Joel stared at you.

For one long second, he didn’t even blink.

Then his gaze moved very slowly from your face to the gummy, then back again, his expression flattening into such deep, exhausted skepticism that you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Baby.”

“What?”

“That is a damn gummy.”

“Yes.”

“A very soft little gummy.”

“Exactly.”

“That I bought for you to eat.”

“And I’m very grateful.”

“You are not actin’ grateful. You are actin’ like a menace.”

You leaned in, lowering your voice. “I’m just saying. It’s soft. If you squeeze it a little…”

Joel’s eyebrows rose.

You smiled sweetly.

“…it might work.”

Something passed across his face then; amusement first, sharp and disbelieving, then heat so sudden it made your stomach dip.

He sat up a fraction. “My cock is not gonna fit through a peach ring.”

You blinked at him with perfect innocence. “That remains to be seen.”

Joel dragged a hand down his face. “Christ almighty.”

“What?”

“You hear yourself?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And I sound creative.”

“You sound dangerous.”

“You like me dangerous.”

His eyes lifted to yours. “I like you.”

“That’s basically the same thing.”

“No,” he said, voice rougher now, “it ain’t.”

The answer landed with more weight than you expected. For a second, the teasing softened around the edges, not disappearing, only making room for the thing beneath it; the trust, the fact that Joel could look at you sitting there with a gummy on your finger and heat in your eyes and still be measuring you with care. How much you’d had to drink. Whether you were sure. Whether the game was still a game because you wanted it, not because the night had carried you farther than you meant to go.

You knew him well enough to know exactly what he was doing.

So you took his hand from your waist, guided it up, and placed his palm over the center of your chest, where your heart was beating fast beneath the denim fabric of your dress.

“I know what I’m asking for, Joel” you said.

Joel’s face changed.

His fingers spread slightly, not possessive, not yet, but heavy enough that your breath caught under them.

“You’re not just feelin’ bold because of the cocktails?”

You smiled, softer now. “I’m feeling bold because you brought me home, took care of me, and now you’re looking at me like you want me to ruin your life.”

Joel went very still.

Then he laughed once, low and almost breathless. “That what I look like?”

You nodded. “A little.”

His thumb brushed once, barely there, near your collarbone. “And what do you look like?”

You leaned closer, your mouth hovering near his. “Like I’m about to.”

That did it.

Something in his expression gave, something patient and controlled slipping into something darker, hungrier, more willing to be led if only because he knew he could still end the game whenever he needed to.

You brought the peach ring to his mouth.

He caught your wrist before it touched him.

The motion was quick enough to make your breath catch, but his grip was gentle, thumb resting over your pulse.

“You think you’re runnin’ this?” he murmured.

You held his gaze. “I know I am.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

His mouth curved, slow and dangerous. “Then why’re you shakin’?”

Your pulse jumped beneath his fingers.

“I’m not shaking.”

Joel’s thumb moved over your wrist. “Liar.”

You swallowed.

He looked down at the gummy again, and his voice went lower. “You got a filthy mouth tonight for somebody who needed help gettin’ her shoes off.”

Heat rushed to your face.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t be smug.”

“I ain’t smug.”

“You are.”

“I’m observant.”

“You’re avoiding the point.”

“The point bein’ you think you can get that around me?”

You smiled slowly. “I think you want to find out.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.

His silence was answer enough.

You slipped your wrist from his hold this time, not because he couldn’t have stopped you, but because he let you. That was the dangerous part. The part that made your stomach twist. Joel Miller, broad and and stubborn as stone, sitting back against the headboard with his hands slowly lowering to the sheets, letting you take the space between you like he trusted you with every inch of it.

You touched the peach ring to his lower lip.

“Open.”

His stare held yours.

For one breath, two, he did nothing.

Then his lips parted.

The obedience of it hit you harder than you expected.

Joel took the gummy from your fingers without looking away, his mouth closing around it slowly, deliberately, like he knew exactly what the sight would do to you and had decided to punish you with your own idea. His teeth caught against the sugar. His tongue swept briefly over his lower lip afterward.

Your smile faltered but his came back.

“Problem?”

You hated how steady he sounded.

“No.”

“Looked like one.”

“You’re being difficult.”

“I’m sittin’ here doin’ what I’m told.”

“Barely.”

His eyes moved over you, from your bare face to your mouth to the neckline of your dress and back up again. “Then tell me better.”

The words settled low in the room.

You went still.

Joel saw the reaction and softened his voice by half an inch, not enough to lessen the heat, only enough to remind you he was still there underneath it. “C’mon, baby. You said you were in charge.”

You lifted your chin, refusing to let him take the ground back that easily. “I am.”

“Then act like it.”

Your breath caught.

He smiled faintly, but his hands stayed on the sheets, open and waiting.

You reached for another peach ring from the bag, slower this time, and Joel watched every movement with an attention so absolute it felt like touch. You held it up between you both, then lowered it just enough for his eyes to follow.

“You’re going to sit there,” you said softly.

Joel’s gaze returned to your face.

“And you’re going to be good.”

His expression sharpened.

“Good,” he repeated.

You nodded. “For me.”

The room went silent.

There were certain words that did things to Joel. Not because he lacked control, but because he had too much of it, always had. Because surrender, even playful surrender, was something he only gave where he felt safe enough to set it down. And there you were, warm from your night out, bare faced because he had washed the evening off you, fed and watered because he had made sure of it, looking at him like you knew exactly what he was and loved him enough to ask for something ridiculous anyway.

“Bossy little thing,” he murmured.

“You married me.”

“Startin’ to remember that.”

You moved closer until your knees settled on either side of his thigh, not sitting on him, not yet, just close enough for the pressure of him to become impossible to ignore. Joel’s breath changed again, and this time he did not hide it quickly enough.

You smiled.

“You brought me gummies,” you whispered. “So you don’t get to complain when I play with them.”

Joel’s hands flexed against the sheets.

“I can complain all I want.”

“Not tonight.”

“No?”

You shook your head. “Tonight, I say what happens.”

His eyes held yours for one long, heated second.

Then he leaned back a little farther, deliberately giving you room, his mouth curving like he was already thinking of all the ways this could go wrong and all the reasons he wanted to let it.

“Alright,” he said, voice rough. “You wanna play?”

You swallowed, excitement slipping through your confidence for just a second.

Joel saw it.

His smile deepened.

“Then play,” he murmured. “But don’t start somethin’ you ain’t ready to finish.”

You leaned in until your mouth brushed his ear.

“Oh, Miller,” you whispered. “I’m not the one who should be worried about finishing.”

Joel went completely still.

And that was the moment his restraint finally started to look like surrender.

You smiled like you had been waiting for exactly that.

Then you leaned in and kissed him.

It started soft, almost sweet, your lips brushing his like you were still thanking him for the peach rings and the ride home. But the second Joel’s mouth opened under yours you deepened it, tasting the faint sugar still clinging to his tongue from the gummy he’d taken earlier. Your hands slid up his chest, over the fabric of his shirt, until your fingers closed gently around his wrists.

You guided them upward.

Joel let you.

You pressed his palms flat against the top edge of the headboard, right where the wood curved. His long fingers curled over it instinctively.

“Keep them there,” you whispered against his mouth.

Joel’s brow lifted, but his voice came out low and already a little rough. “That an order?”

“Mhm.” You kissed the corner of his mouth, then his bottom lip, teasing. “Hands stay right there until I say otherwise.”

He huffed a quiet laugh that you felt more than heard. “Trouble and bossy.”

“You like it.”

“I like all of you,” he corrected, but he didn’t move his hands. His knuckles stayed white against the dark wood, arms stretched just enough to make the muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt.

You reached into the open bag of peach rings, pulled out a fresh one, and held it up between you two like a prize.

“I want you to suck on this,” you said softly, voice sweet as the sugar itself, “until there’s not a single grain of sugar left on it.”

Joel looked at the bright orange ring, then at you. One eyebrow rose slow and skeptical.

“What the hell’s wrong with a little sugar, darlin’?”

You smiled at that.

“Because I don’t want it scratching that pretty cock of yours when I slide it down every inch.”

The words landed heavy between you.

Joel’s jaw flexed. His eyes darkened instantly, pupils blowing wide. For a second he just stared at you, like he was trying to decide whether to laugh, curse, or drag you into his lap and end this game right now.

Instead he let out a low, rough breath.

“Jesus Christ, darlin’…”

You brought the peach ring closer to his mouth, brushing the soft sugar against his lower lip.

“Open up your mouth for me, baby.”

Joel held your gaze the entire time he parted his lips. The second the gummy touched his tongue he closed his mouth around it and your finger, sucking slowly. His tongue moved over the soft ring, licking every bit of sugar, warm and wet against your skin. He didn’t look away from you once.

You let out a shaky little breath.

“That’s it… just like that,” you murmured, voice dropping. “Get it nice and clean for me, Joel.”

He hummed around your finger, the vibration going straight between your legs. His tongue curled, licked between your fingers, sucked the gummy until it started to lose its sharp sugar edge and turn glossy with his spit. The wet sounds filled the quiet bedroom.

When the peach ring was slick and mostly sugar free, you finally pulled it from his mouth with a soft pop. A thin string of saliva connected his lip to your finger for a second before it broke.

You looked at the gummy, then at him, and smiled.

“Very good,” you praised, voice warm and a little breathless.

Joel let out a short, surprised laugh, the sound rough and genuine. His eyes were dark but sparkling with that mix of amusement and pure want that always made your stomach flip.

“Yeah? That earn me a gold star?”

You leaned in and kissed him again, deep and filthy, tasting the peach on his tongue. While you kissed him your free hand moved to the buttons of his shirt, slowly working them open one by one.

“You earned a lot more than that,” you whispered against his mouth.

You kissed along his jaw, slow open mouthed kisses that made his head tilt back against the headboard. Your lips moved down to his neck, tongue tracing the tendon there, sucking lightly just below his ear until he let out a low growl.

“Baby…”

You smiled against his skin. “Shh. Hands stay up there.”

You kept unbuttoning his shirt until it fell open completely, revealing the broad, solid plane of his chest and the soft dark hair scattered across it. You dragged your tongue down the center of his sternum, tasting salt and skin and the faint trace of soap from his shower earlier. Lower, following the trail of hair that disappeared beneath his belt; his happy trail.

You pressed a wet kiss right below his belly button and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Love this,” you murmured, dragging your tongue along the line of hair. “Love how it leads exactly where I want to go.”

Joel’s breath hitched. His arms flexed against the headboard but he kept them exactly where you’d put them.

“Fuckin’ menace,” he muttered, voice gravel rough.

You grinned and nipped lightly at his lower stomach before your hands moved to his belt. You undid the buckle with practiced ease, popped the button of his jeans, and dragged the zipper down slow enough to make him feel every tooth.

When you freed his cock it was already hard and heavy, flushed dark at the tip and curving up toward his stomach. You wrapped your hand around the base and gave one slow, firm stroke.

Joel groaned low in his throat.

You leaned down and pressed a soft, almost reverent kiss to the head, then dragged your tongue over the slit, tasting the bead of precum already there. You coated him thoroughly, licking long, wet stripes up and down his length until he glistened with your saliva.

Then you picked up the slick peach ring.

You looked up at him again, eyes shining with mischief and heat.

“Ready?”

Joel’s voice was wrecked. “You’re really gonna do this.”

“Mmm-hmm.” You slid the soft, warm gummy slowly down over the head of his cock, careful, watching his face the entire time. It stretched a little, snug but smooth now that the sugar was mostly gone. You eased it down a couple of inches, then back up, letting the soft ring drag along his sensitive skin.

Joel’s hips twitched. A deep, guttural sound left his chest.

“Jesus… fuck, baby.”

“Feel good?” you asked sweetly, still sliding the gummy up and down his shaft in slow, torturous strokes.

“Too damn good,” he rasped. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You laughed softly and finally set the gummy aside. Then you lowered your mouth over him.

You took him deep in one smooth glide, lips stretching around his thickness, tongue pressed flat against the underside. Joel’s head fell back against the headboard with a thud, a broken groan tearing out of him.

You worked him slowly at first with long, wet pulls, hollowing your cheeks, taking him as far as you could until your nose brushed the dark hair at his base. Then you pulled back up, swirling your tongue around the head, sucking lightly on the sensitive spot just beneath it before sliding down again.

“Goddamn, sweetheart… that mouth,” Joel panted. His hands were still gripping the headboard so hard the wood creaked. “You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his cock twitch hard against your tongue. You picked up the pace gradually, bobbing your head faster, one hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach, the other gently cupping his balls, rolling them softly.

The wet, filthy sounds of your mouth working him filled the room. Every time you took him especially deep you let out a little moan that made Joel curse under his breath.

You felt him start to tense, his thighs going tight, his cock swelling even harder against your tongue.

You pulled off with a wet pop and looked up at him, lips shiny and swollen.

“You close, handsome?”

Joel’s chest was heaving. His voice was raw. “Yeah… fuck, yes, I’m right there—”

You sat up abruptly, wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand like it was nothing, and scooted up the bed to sit beside him. You leaned back against the headboard with a satisfied little sigh, legs stretched out, looking perfectly casual.

Joel’s head snapped toward you, eyes wide with disbelief and pure frustration.

You smiled sweetly at him.

“Well?” you said, voice light and innocent. “If you want to come, you’re already late eating my pussy, baby.”

Joel stared at you for a long second, chest still rising and falling hard, cock glistening and throbbing against his stomach, hands still obediently on the headboard.

Then he let out a low, dangerous laugh that sent heat rushing straight between your legs.

Joel’s gaze dragged down your body like he was already planning exactly how he was going to ruin you.

“Look at you… sittin’ there all sweet and wicked after what you just did to me. You got me achin’ so bad I can barely think straight.” he said, voice rough and thick with hunger.

You bit your lip, heat flooding your cheeks, but you didn’t close your legs. Instead you held his stare and slowly dragged the hem of your denim dress higher up your thighs, bunching the fabric at your hips until you were fully exposed to him. Then you spread your legs wider, showing him exactly what he did to you.

The cool air hit the soaked lace of your panties and you shivered. The dark wet spot was obvious. Embarrassingly, but beautifully obvious.

Joel’s breath caught hard in his chest. His eyes locked between your thighs like he couldn’t look away even if the world was ending.

“Jesus Christ, baby…” he breathed, almost reverent. “That all for me? You’re fuckin’ drippin’.”

You nodded, voice soft and a little shy but full of honest want.

“All for you, Joel. I’ve been like this since the truck. You were so good to me tonight… carrying me, buying me snacks, letting me tease you, keeping your hands right where I told you… You make me this wet just by being you. Just by loving me the way you do.”

He made a low, broken sound deep in his throat, almost pained. His cock gave a heavy twitch, the stretched peach ring around the base making the ache sharper and tighter. For a long second his hands flexed like he wanted to reach for you, but he kept them exactly where you’d placed them earlier; gripping the top of the headboard.

“My sweet, filthy little wife…” he muttered, but his eyes were soft and dark and so full of love it made your chest feel tight.

He finally moved, crawling between your spread thighs with deliberate slowness. His big hands wrapped gently around your ankles first, thumbs stroking the delicate bone there. He lifted one foot and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your ankle, then another higher up your calf. Every kiss was warm and wet, lingering, like he had all the time in the world and planned to use every second of it.

He took his time.

Kissing. Sucking. Nipping lightly at the soft skin of your inner thighs until faint pink marks bloomed under his mouth. You felt each one like a brand.

“Joel…” you whispered, already breathless.

He hummed against your thigh, the vibration traveling straight to your core. When he reached the edge of your soaked panties he didn’t pull them aside. He simply leaned in and dragged the flat of his tongue in one long, slow stripe right up the center of your pussy through the lace.

Your hips jerked.

He did it again, slower, pressing harder, letting the rough texture of the wet fabric drag over your swollen clit. The sensation was maddening.

“Fuck, Joel… please…”

He looked up at you from between your legs, beard already shiny with your arousal, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low and rough. “Thought you were the one runnin’ the show tonight. Ain’t that what you told me?”

You let out a frustrated little whine, but you were smiling too, cheeks flushed.

He chuckled darkly and went back to torturing you, sucking gently on your clit through the lace, tongue flicking in tight little circles. Every slow, deliberate lick made the fabric cling even more obscenely to you. The wet sounds of his mouth against the soaked lace filled the bedroom.

You squirmed, fingers twisting in the sheets.

“Joel… baby, please take them off. I need your mouth on me properly… I can’t—”

He pulled back just enough to grin up at you, lips glistening.

“Well now… ain’t that interestin’. My bossy little wife is beggin’ already.”

You laughed breathlessly and reached down, threading your fingers into his thick hair. You gave it a gentle but firm tug.

“I’m the one still in charge,” you whispered sweetly, voice dripping with playful threat. “And you’re not coming until I say so. Don’t forget that, handsome.”

The reminder hit him hard. Joel’s cock throbbed painfully inside the gummy ring. He groaned low against your thigh, the sound raw.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered, but there was nothing but pure desperate affection in it. “Nothin’ but trouble.”

He hooked two thick fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly dragged them down your legs, letting the soaked lace kiss every inch of skin on the way off. He tossed them aside and settled back between your thighs like a man coming home.

This time there was nothing between his mouth and you.

Joel licked a long, slow stripe up your bare pussy and groaned deep, like the taste of you was everything he’d ever wanted. Then the teasing stopped completely.

He devoured you.

His mouth was hot, hungry and relentless. He sucked your clit between his lips, tongue flicking fast and firm, then slowed down to lick broad and lazy, savoring every drop. Two thick fingers slid inside you without warning, curling perfectly against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

“Fuck— Joel— yes, right there, baby…”

He moaned into your pussy, the vibration shooting through you. Every low, filthy grunt and wet sound he made told you exactly how much he loved eating you like this.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’,” he rasped against you, voice muffled and wrecked. “So sweet. So wet. Could stay right here between your legs all night.”

You kept praising him between broken moans, words spilling out of you like you couldn’t hold them back.

“You’re so good… God, your mouth— I love how you eat my pussy… No one has ever made me feel like this… Fuck, Joel, you’re perfect— so perfect for me…”

Every compliment made him groan louder, his hips unconsciously grinding against the mattress, chasing any kind of relief for his aching cock. The peach ring was still tight around him, making every throb feel sharper, more intense.

You threw one leg over his broad shoulder, then the other, heels digging into his back as you rocked against his face without any shame, riding his tongue.

“That’s it— right there— don’t stop, baby—”

Joel’s hips kept moving, desperate little thrusts against the bed. You noticed immediately.

“You’re cheating,” you panted, half-laughing, half-moaning. “Grinding on the bed like that…”

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, beard shiny and dripping with your slick, eyes glassy and dark.

“Cheating?” His voice was completely wrecked. “Darlin’, you got me drippin’ like a goddamn teenager. I’m doin’ everything I can to behave and you’re still sittin’ there lookin’ like that, tastin’ like that… You’re killin’ me here.”

The raw honesty in his voice made you melt.

You reached down and cupped his wet cheek tenderly, thumb brushing through his soaked beard. Then you brought those same slick fingers to his mouth. Joel opened without hesitation, sucking them clean with a deep, grateful groan.

“I know you’re being so good for me,” you whispered, voice soft and full of love. “But you know what would make me even wetter? Watching you eat my pussy while you stroke that pretty cock for me. I want to see you touch yourself while you make me come.”

Joel didn’t hesitate for even a second.

He rose up on his knees, helped you stand on shaky legs, and kissed you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. While he kissed you he peeled the rest of your dress off, then your bra. You helped him shove his open shirt off his shoulders and pushed his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down until both of you were completely naked.

Then Joel dropped to his knees again; right there in front of you.

One big hand settled possessively on your lower back, holding you steady. The other wrapped around his aching cock, the peach ring still snug at the base, and he started stroking himself slow and tight, eyes never leaving yours.

He looked up at you the entire time as he leaned in and licked back into your pussy with pure devotion.

No more games. Just Joel on his knees, worshipping you with his mouth while he fucked his own fist for you. The eye contact was unbroken, intense. Every moan he let out vibrated against your clit. Every wet sound of his hand moving on his cock mixed with the obscene noises of him eating you like a starving man.

You looked down at him and let out a shaky, awed breath.

“Oh my God, Joel… look at you,” you whispered, voice full of wonder and heat. “On your knees for me… stroking that pretty cock while you eat my pussy. You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

Joel groaned loudly against you, the sound vibrating straight into your core. His eyes fluttered but he kept them locked on yours, sucking harder on your clit like your words had lit a fire under him.

You threaded both hands into his hair, holding him right where you needed him.

“That’s it… good boy,” you murmured, voice sweet and filthy at the same time. “Good fucking boy, baby. You’re doing so good for me.”

His hips jerked forward into his own fist at the praise. A broken moan tore out of him, muffled against your soaked folds.

You smiled down at him, breathing hard.

“You like that, huh? You like being my good boy?” You stroked his hair gently, almost tenderly. “Look at you… so desperate, so hungry. I can feel how much you love this. You’re making such pretty sounds for me, Joel.”

He pulled back just enough to gasp against your thigh, voice wrecked and hoarse.

“Fuck, sweetheart… keep talkin’ like that and I ain’t gonna last…”

You tugged his hair lightly, guiding his mouth back to you.

“You still don’t get to come until I do. You hear me, baby? Be good for me a little longer.” you said softly. 

Joel whimpered —actually whimpered— and dove back in, licking and sucking with renewed hunger. His hand moved faster on his cock, the wet sounds growing louder, more frantic.

You kept praising him, voice getting breathier as your own pleasure built higher.

“Yes… just like that. You’re so good with your tongue, Joel. So perfect. God, look at you on your knees… touching yourself for me while you make me feel this good. My handsome husband… my good, good boy…”

His shoulders trembled. His strokes became tighter, almost desperate, but he never looked away from your eyes. The eye contact was devastating.

Your thighs started to shake around his head.

It was too much.

You threaded both hands into his hair, holding him against you as your thighs started to tremble.

“Joel—baby— I’m so close…”

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your slick, puffy folds, voice hoarse and full of love.

“I got you, baby. You can let it go. Come for me. Let me feel you.”

The orgasm crashed into you hard. You cried out his name, hips jerking against his mouth as pleasure tore through you in long, overwhelming waves. Your walls clenched around his fingers, thighs shaking around his head.

Joel kept licking you through it, gentler now, soothing every aftershock… but his own hand never stopped moving on his cock. His strokes grew faster, tighter, more desperate as he felt you coming undone on his tongue.

The moment your orgasm started to crest and then slowly ebb, Joel groaned loudly against your pussy, the sound desperate and broken. His eyes locked on yours again, dark and glassy, almost pleading.

“Fuck—darlin’— I can’t hold it anymore…” His voice cracked. “Please… can I come? Let me come, baby… please—”

You kept your eyes fixed on him, watching every single detail: the way his hand flew over his cock, the way his hips stuttered, the way his chest heaved. You stroked his hair tenderly while you watched him fall apart.

“Yes, baby,” you panted, voice sweet. “You can come. Come for me, Joel. Let me see you.”

The permission hit him like a trigger.

Joel groaned loudly against your oversensitive clit, the sound vibrating through you as he finally let go. His hips jerked hard, his hand stroking himself through it, and he came with a deep, guttural moan. Thick ropes of cum spilled over his fist and onto the floor while he kept licking you softly, riding out the last waves of your pleasure as he emptied himself completely for you.

Only when you were both trembling and breathless did he finally slow down.

He stayed on his knees between your legs for a long moment, forehead resting against your thigh, chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. His hand was still loosely wrapped around his softening cock.

You looked down at him and let out a soft, breathless laugh, still coming down from your high.

“Baby… you still have the gummy on.”

“Fuckin’ thing.”

He reached down to slide it off carefully. The moment it came free he hissed through his teeth; oversensitive and aching.

You grabbed his arm quickly, still giggling softly.

“You’re not throwing it away, right?”

Joel looked up at you, one eyebrow raised, that crooked, fond smile on his shiny lips.

“You serious, darlin’?”

You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, eyes sparkling with playful challenge.

He stared at you for a second, then shook his head, laughing low and warm and so full of love it made your heart squeeze.

“You are actually insane,” he muttered, but he stood up, stepped close, and carefully placed the slick, cum covered peach ring onto your waiting tongue.

The second you closed your mouth around it, Joel leaned down and kissed you; deep, slow, and filthy. He tasted himself, the sweet artificial peach, and the lingering taste of you all at once.

In the middle of the kiss he laughed softly against your lips, the sound warm and full of love.

“I love you,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours, thumb brushing your cheek. “Goddamn, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

For a moment, Joel didn’t move. He only held you there, forehead pressed to yours, one hand cupping the side of your face while both of you tried to remember how to breathe like normal people again. The room was warm and wrecked around you, the sheets twisted, your dress on the floor, the open bag of peach rings sitting near the pillows like evidence of a crime neither of you regretted. 

Then Joel let out a quiet, breathless laugh and kissed your cheek, softer now, careful in the way he always became after. 

“Alright, trouble,” he murmured, voice rough but tender, already reaching for the water on the nightstand. “Before you get any more ideas, you’re drinkin’ this, and then I’m cleanin’ you up.”

You smiled against his shoulder, boneless and happy. “Still bossy.”

He pressed another kiss to your temple. “Still married to me.”

⋆♱ Beautiful dividers from @saradika-graphics and @thecutestgrotto

.⋆♱ Taglist: @mcthsman, @vanishintoyoubby, @pattwtf, @mrsnanamiller, @madisonauroraxx, @okiegal68

[pattwtf]

GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURL

[honey-moon-13]

We need him, Pat!!

[scarlet48]

Me and My Headphones

AGAINST THE FUCKING WORLD

[chaoswithtaste]

Breeding Joel companion piece to Peeping Joel

Pairing – Joel x fem!reader

Summary

Joel's no longer just your sleazy older neighbour, watching you every night through his bedroom window as you get ready for bed. He all but has made himself at home in your life. And he intends to make sure he stays right where he is.

Warnings

+18 – mdni; shameless smut, implied voyeurism, masturbation, dry humping, (mentioned) consensual somnophilia, boob-fucking, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink, sleazy!Joel, undefined age gap, daddy kink

a/n

PRETTY MUCH what the title suggests! our sleazy-peeping-nighbourhood Joel graduated to breeding Joel. I really have no excuses for this other than that I really wanted to write it?? Also as a ty for all your likes, reblogs & comments on Peeping Joel!! 🖤 y'alls input is what keeps me motivated to write!! not beta-read, happy reading <3

word count – ~2.1k

as seen on – archiveofourown

He was rock hard. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do to help it—- was just you, and your nightly routine. In a way he’d pavloved himself. He knows that. Your shorts had barely hit the ground in front of the bed and his cock had stirred to life. 

Didn’t help that he was laying in your bed now. That he could hear you move about in the ensuite, water running, the sound of products moving across the counter and being opened, used. 

How couldn’t he sit there, in your sheets. Working himself while he waited for you. 

“You sleazy pig,” you didn’t even seem shocked, walking back into your bedroom, seeing him in all of his naked glory, dad-bod — although his belly was the result of beer and not the healthiest diet; fist around his cock, stroking himself. “Can’t believe you,” you shook your head, even as you pulled your top over your head.

Joel groaned, watching your breasts spill free, “She says, showin’ me her glorious fucking tits.” 

You only rolled your eyes, snatching the lotion he’d used as lube, to lather it into your skin. First your arms and chest and maybe you made a show out of it. Making sure he got a good fucking view of your breasts as you worked the lotion into your skin. Nipples pebbling and all. Just like you had when you knew he sat in front of his window every night.

“Fucking tease,” he groaned, cock twitching. 

“Oh so you’re complaining?” You asked, tossing your panties at him. 

And Joel didn’t disappoint, nose pressed into them, inhaling deep. “You dirty old fuck,” you rolled your eyes, climbing on top of him. 

“Gotta love how ya actin’ like ya ain’t liking it,” he clicked his tongue, a hand on your hips, the other taking a hand full of your glorious fucking tits.No doubt expecting you to sink down on him. 

But you had a better idea.

Grinding your slick cunt along his cock, root to tip and back again. Feeling every inch of him glide through slick folds. Teasing your clit just right. “Fuck,” you moaned, head falling back.

“See babygirl, knew ya liked my cock.” Of course he was smug about it. “Just like that,” he encouraged you. “Knew ya liked Daddy’s cock better than ya silly little toys.” 

“Asshole!” The insult lacked bite, which may or may not be due to the word being wrapped into a moan. 

“You like it,” he countered, clearly enjoying himself. Using the hand on your hip to guide you along his cock. 

And fuck he was right. 

“No,” he tried to shift, tried to sink into you. “Not tonight,” you breathed.

“C’mon, babygirl…” he complained, fingers flexing against your hip. “We’ll be careful.”

“No Daddy,” you reached for his hands, pinning them on his chest where you braced your weight. “Someone used the last condom this morning and didn’t get any new ones.” 

A year in and he had fucked you plenty. On and against every surface of your home and his, including the windows facing your bedrooms.

Your body pressed into the cool glass while he had sunken into you from behind. He had refused to clean the shape of your glorious curves off of the glass. 

Not that he slept much in his own bed now.

Too comfortable in yours, with your body in his arms. 

After the first time, condoms had become a staple. Sometimes he pulled them off, just to paint white ribbons across your skin.

He knew that you weren’t on birth control, that you weren’t fond the side-effects and had promised to take care of protection. And he had, an always replaced stash of condoms, the ultra-sensitive kind. Because he longed to feel you around him.

He’d meant to get new ones three days ago, but between work running late and you complaining that you needed him he’d simply forgot. Using the last before breakfast and after waking you with his tongue in your cunt. 

“Just the tip?” He tried, while you still worked yourself on top of him. 

“Yeah right,” you moaned, “You can’t even resist now and want me to believe you will resist sinking balls deep into me?” You clicked your tongue, a wicked little grin tucking on your lips. 

Oh how he loved that smart mouth of yours. 

Just as much as he loved to stuff it, like when you believed he’d let you sass him over on your way home from the grocery store some five months ago.

He had to pull over, unable to concentrate while your smart tongue had worked him to make up for rolling your eyes and calling him a grumpy old man.

Not that he had expected you to follow through, when he’d unbuckled his belt and opened the fly of his pants enough to pull his cock out. When he should have known better… well aware that his babygirl never backed down from a challenge. 

──────────

“‘ll pull out?” He promised, and you scoffed. 

“I know school’s been a while for you,” he had half a mind to tuck his hand free to smack your behind for that “But you should know that that ain’t save at all.” 

You had a point. 

Not that he wanted to admit that. 

“What? Ya not keen on givin’ me a little Miller?” 

“Joel,” you half whined, half moaned. 

“’s not what y’call me babygirl. Not when ya cunt is drippin’ all over m’cock.” You didn’t respond, go figure, but you didn’t stop rolling your hips either. “Y’d look so beautiful with m’child. All round a soft an glowin’,” you threw your head back, weather because of how good he felt under you or because of the picture he pained, Joel wasn’t sure. 

But he used your movement to tuck one of his hands free from under yours, not to move it back to your hip to guide you, but to trace along the soft skin below your navel instead. 

“Would spoil ya rotten!” He declared. 

“Sure y’would,” you moaned. “And I’d be the talk of the street. Pregnant from my sleazy neighbour who’s twice my age…”

“‘m not sleazy.”

“Sure, you didn’t watch me for month jerking off,” you countered.

He flashed you a grin. “’s not my fault, babygirl. Ya put on a spectacular show.” And he knew now that you had, just for him. “‘sides, ain’t matter what they think. We can move.” 

Your movements grew erratic, your pace picking up—- he knew you were close. His hand slipped back to your waist, to guide you, but his thumb kept drawing soft circles into the skin of your belly.

“Y-you gonna tell me you want,” you panted, “A white–- picket fence?”

“Nah, not m’style,” he mused, “But if’s what you want then…” he trailed off. “‘ll build ya a whole fuckin’ castle if’s what ya want.”

“That’s—- quite the promise,” you moaned, her fingers flexing against his chest. “Just to cum inside of me.” 

“Ain’t just cuming inside of ya, babygirl,” a low rumble, his cock twitching under you. “Would make sure it sticks.” He felt it, the tensing of your abdominal muscles, the coil behind your navel snapping as your orgasm tore through you. Hips bucking and back arching.

A glorious sight.

But so would be you, round with his baby. He hadn’t lied. Hell he’d even do the white picked fence if you wanted that. Complete with a Golden Retriever and and whatever else your heart desired.

Preferably his cock, day and night.

“Pervert,” you panted. Had you read his mind?

“Just sayin’…” he was still rock hard, still craved the welcoming depth of your cunt. Now more than ever. And he wasn’t above begging you to feel it wrapped around his cock. Too so because the thought of you pregnant with his child, the thought of you being his was far too tempting to dismiss it. “‘d take good care of ya.”

“Yeah, yeah, spoiling me rotten, I heard you.” 

“Good, was worried ya were t’far gone t’hear.” You flicked his painfully hard nipple, making his cock twitch and him groan. “C’mon, ya can’t tell me y’haven’t thought ‘bout it.”

“What? Having your child or your cock, bare, inside of me.”

“Both.” His thumb still drew idle patterns into your soft skin. “Need one f’the other an one leads t’the other.” 

“Oh so you did pay attention in biology?” You arched a brow and he smacked your ass with his unoccupied hand and you didn’t yelp. You fucking giggled.

God you would be the death of him.

──────────

He finished between your glorious tits. And not that he was complaining about that… but he would have loved feeling you wrapped around him still.

Not that the sight of thick white ribbons covering your skin didn’t make up for that. Enough, that he took a moment to admire it, while he caught his breath. 

“Gonna buy condoms first thing tomorrow,” he sighed, climbing off you to get a wet cloth and clean your chest. Paying extra attention to your breasts.

“Heard that one before,” you tease while he pulled you into his arms. 

His chest to your back.

“Gonna do it,” he breathed into your neck while a large hand settled above your abdomen. “Meant what I said babygirl,” his voice sounded soft with exhaustion and something else. “Gonna build ya a castle…”

The topic didn’t come up again. Joel stocked up on condoms and then proceeded to fuck you seven ways to Sunday. 

In the kitchen instead of breakfast, in the shower after an exhausting day, in the back of his truck because you’d snarked him, irritated after work, while muttering something about fucking the bad mood right out of you.

And frequently after watching you go through nightly routine. Rock hard like the first time he saw you across the small strip of grass through the window. 

“You’re impossible,” you rolled your eyes, finding him working his cock yet again. 

“T’word y’re lookin’ for is irresistible.” 

You snorted, shimmying out of your panties. “Sure,” you reached for the lotion, aware he’d used it too, to lather a some into your arms. “Quit jerking off and put your hands to better you,” 

“Am puttin’,” you tossed the lotion onto his naked belly, “Hey!” He complained, even as he reached for the lotion to squeeze a generous amount into the palm of his hand. 

He worked the lotion into your left leg first, starting at the calf, moving over your thigh and to your ass. Down right massaging it into your skin. Your right leg received the same treatment before he moved on to your hips, waist and belly. 

By the time you had settled astride him, fingers loosely pumping along his length, he had moved on to your breast, making quite the show out of lathering cream onto your skin. Massaging until it had fully settled into your skin. 

Then, and only then did he shift and reach for the nightstand, to get a condom. 

He barely got the drawer open before you sunk down on him.

“Fuck,” he moaned, hands immediately flying to your hips. “Y’sure babygirl?” 

You nodded, watching him out of hooded eyes and Joel immediately shifted you under him, a thigh hooked over his hip, his breath hot against your lips. 

There was no rush to his movements, slow and deep. Savouring each deep thrust. And fuck you’d forgotten how good he felt like that. “If this sticks,” your teeth caught his bottom lip.

“Gonna make it stick,” he grunted before you could finish your sentence.

“Then you better get started on the promised castle,” you teased, reminding him of his promise from weeks ago. Fingers in his hair, nails against his scalp. 

Joel’s hips bucked. “First thing t’morrow babygirl.” He promised and even though you had been fine the first time around, when he’d finally caved and marched over here, you somehow didn’t doubt that he would manage to knock you up just because he decided to. 

“Fuck y’feel so good babygirl,” he groaned, while your nails left crimson-shaped imprints on his shoulder. “An ya gonna look so pretty. All round ’n soft with m’baby,” you clenched around him. “Oh so y’really want it,” you had half a mind to wipe the smug grin of his face but then his cock dragged against that spot that made your toes girl. “Look at’cha squeezin’ me.” He moaned. “So tight babygirl—-”

He was hot on your heels when your orgasm rips through you, spilling deep inside of you. 

“’s right babygirl, keep squeezin’ Daddy’s cock,” he groaned, still catching his breath when he pulled you into his arms. “Keep milkin’ my cock, makin’ sure it sticks.”

[cyber333angel]

omfggg stepdad!dex with crybaby reader but reader is in a pissy mood and upset that she can’t get her way, so dex fucks her to the point of tears and mocks her while also recording so every time she acts up, he can just pull that out >///<

hngghhh need him soso bad

you had literally been brat to him all day, crying over the littlest things, stomping all over the house and even cursing at him which you know is a huge no no..

you were getting under his skin and he was beyond tired of it..

he pulled you into your room so harshly and basically threw you on the bed, ordering you to take off his pants and watched as you scrambled to :(

there were tears already dribbling in your eyes as you made quick work to tug on his jeans, “go on sweetheart, you know what to do—been acting like a brat all fucking day.” he barked, watching you pull out his dick and trying to get it hard.

it doesn’t take long for him to get hard + you feel so guilty for how you’ve been acting so your head is down avoiding dexs gaze, sucking all over his leaky tip and trying your best to make it up to him.

all the while dex had been recording above you, his phone camera placed above your head and you can see everything you’re doing. you never even realize it too cos your eyes are all cloudy from crying :(

next thing you know your ass is in the air and your face in the pillows, dex making you fuck yourself back on him and delivering a harsh smack on your ass whenever you falter.

“are you gonna tell me you’re sorry?”, you’ll hear behind you, the phone still recording you practically performing for him.

a bunch of babbles of you crying, “m’so sorry dad, ill be good..” and repetitive chants of “daddy, daddy, daddy! ” comes from your drooling mouth throughout the video. dex smiling behind the camera, the only part of him you see in the vid is his abs and the white ring of arousal at the base of his cock that got lower the more bounced your ass on him.

and he’s saying such mean things just to get more tears flowing <\3

and by the end of the night when your nose is all runny and your eyes are puffy from crying so much, you’re laying on dexs chest catching your breath. you wait for him to maybe say it’s okay and you’ve learned your lesson but he doesn’t say anything.

he has one hand holding your waist so you’re closer to him and can see closely as he pulls his phone out, you’re confused until he plays a video and your ass is on clear display on the tiny screen.

seeing you bounce on his pelvis makes you turn around and shy away into his shoulder—this is so humiliating!

but dex grabs the back of your head, making you face forward and see the phone with a stern, “nope. what, you feeling embarrassed now sweetheart?”, your step dad says while he forces you to look at the video filled with your whines and his quiet groans. “keep acting like a brat and I’ll show this to you know who.”

he loves how fast you squeak from this threat—nodding in fear as you look up at him and dex smiles, kissing your forehead. “there you go, missed my good girl.”, you are on your best behavior for weeks after that!!

until you forgot about the video after a month or two, heart pounding from the surprise one day when you get a text from dex of that same video after acting up all day!

[sweetjellytea]

back to the old house — miniseries masterlist

benjamin poindexter x f!reader

— synopsis a chance meeting on a flight and sharing headphones with a stranger somehow leads to building your (fairly unusual) lives around one another.

or, a series of connected oneshots that follow your atypical relationship with dex

— general tags some suggestive content (mdni), fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, awkward situations, slowburn, canon typical violence, stalking, ddba!dex, implied neurodivergent reader, references to music

Part I

01. don't dream it's over [1.7k]

02. keep your picture on the wall [2.0k]

03. all i need [2.7k]

04. everybody here wants you [4.8k]

05. kinky love [6.2k]

06. blood-stained blond [6.7k]

Part II

07. coming soon!

[toxicanonymity]

Can you raise some awareness about HR 2616? I info that’s not usually what you do, but you are very politically active and have a pretty big queer following. It just passed the house about a week ago and it’ll prevent trans middle and elementary school students from being addressed by their preferred name and pronouns and prevent teachers from teaching about gender and sexuality, removing books with trans characters from school libraries and making teachers unable to acknowledge the existence of trans people.

(5calls) Bill info & easy action: HR 2616 🏳️‍⚧️ Goes to Senate next. If you live in the U.S., you have 2 senators.

ILYSM, big queer following! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

[brunchable]

Need To Know

݈݇— pairings: nerdy!roommate AU dex poindexter x roommate!freader ݈݇— summary: Your friends keep laughing it off whenever you swear your shy, roommate Dex is secretly a total catch under the oversized clothing—they just can't see it like you do and you're finally determined to confirm it for yourself. ݈݇— [18+] themes: implied stalking, perverted roommate, dex acting pathetic, ooc dex, size kink, praise kink, teasing/seduction, body worship, msub, foreplay, oral (m & f receiving), dick slaps, face-riding, mating press, dirty talk, unprotected piv(pls use protection), creampie. Porn with plot. No use of y/n. Author's Notes: Inspired by Need To Know by Doja Cat. Another fucking self indulgent fanfic. May or may not make a part 2 depending on how this goes lol.

Dex was right in the middle of staring at the same stubborn line of code for the third damn time when the loud clatter echoed from the living room, followed immediately by your very loud, very frustrated “Oh fuck!”

His hands froze on the keyboard. He was already half out of his chair before his brain caught up—because that’s what roommates did. They checked on each other. They didn’t just sit there spiraling through every worst-case scenario while their heart tried to punch its way out of their chest. Especially not when it was you.

He should’ve knocked. He knew the rule. But the door was already cracked open, and the only rule that actually mattered in his head (the one he’d invented the day you moved in) was simple: make sure you’re okay. Even if his palms were already clammy. Even if he’d spent the last six months pretending he didn’t notice you in anything less than full-coverage pajamas.

He pushed the door open a little wider with his shoulder, glasses sliding down his nose, and the sight hit him like a truck.

You were on the floor.

Legs splayed, one knee twisted at a weird angle, that thin white cover-up clinging to your skin thanks to the humidity and doing exactly zero to hide the tiny bikini underneath.

His gaze flicked down, then up, then anywhere that wasn’t you, but it was useless. The way the bikini bottoms sat low on your hips. The cover-up slipping off one shoulder. The sunscreen is still shiny on your thigh. He felt heat crawl up the back of his neck, felt his glasses fog slightly at the edges because apparently his body had decided this was the moment to overheat.

“Are—are you okay?” The words came out gravelly, like he’d just swallowed a handful of sand. He hovered in the doorway, one hand still gripping the frame.

You looked up at him, lips parted in that sheepish little smile. “Yeah,” you said with a soft, embarrassed laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just slipped on sunscreen like an absolute genius.”

Dex swallowed hard. He should leave. He should turn around right now and go back to his room and pretend he hadn’t seen any of this. But his feet were glued. And you were still sitting there, looking up at him with those eyes, cover-up slipping further down your arm, and every single fantasy he’d ever tried to bury came roaring back in high definition.

He took one careful step closer, then another, until he was crouched beside you. His hand hovered for a second before his fingers brushed your elbow. The skin there was warm, still a little slick from lotion, and the contact sent a jolt straight through him.

“Here—let me…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, tried again. “C-can I help you up?”

You nodded, still wearing that small, knowing smile, and when you slipped your hand into his, Dex felt it in his ribs, his stomach, everywhere. He pulled you to your feet a little too quickly, until you were standing right there, inches away. The sheer fabric brushed against his hoodie. The smell of strawberries filled the space between you.

“You… you should probably lather up on the couch,” he managed, voice low and rough. “Sitting down to avoid…slipping.”

“That’s actually a really smart idea,” you said, laughing softly, that same knowing smile still in place as you let go of his hand. You stepped past him toward the hallway.

Dex inhaled sharply before he could stop himself. Your hair swung close and that strawberry scent hit him full force again. His eyes actually rolled back for half a second, lashes fluttering. God. He was pathetic. Completely, irreversibly pathetic.

He followed you down the hall at a careful distance, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets so you wouldn’t see them shaking, eyes locked on the floor.

“You heading to the beach today?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. He’d watched you check the weather app three separate times during dinner. He knew your plans better than his own.

You glanced back over your shoulder with a little shrug. “Nah, just the rooftop pool.”

Dex rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to look surprised. “R-right. I forgot the apartment even had a pool…”

You dropped onto the couch and gave him that sweet little “Mm-hm.”

“Well,” he said, already taking a jerky step back toward the hallway, “I’ll be in my room if you need anyth—”

“Actually…”

Your voice stopped him cold. Dex turned halfway around. You were standing by the couch, sunscreen bottle in one hand, fingers playing with the tie of your cover-up.

“Can you help me put sunscreen on?” you asked, all soft and sweet. “My back’s impossible to reach and I really don’t want to burn…”

Dex’s mouth went completely dry. Every alarm in his head went off, but his feet were already carrying him toward you anyway. 

“You… you want me to—?” His voice came out cracked and embarrassingly breathy.

You tilted your head, biting your lower lip in that soft, innocent way that wiped every rational thought clean out of his skull. “Only if you’re okay with it,” you said sweetly, eyes wide and guileless. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Uncomfortable. Right.

He was already half-hard in his sweatpants, cock twitching at the mere idea of his hands on you. His glasses slid another inch down his nose.

“No—no, I don’t mind,” he blurted, then winced at how desperate he sounded. “I mean… yeah. Sure. Definitely.”

Your whole face lit up. “Thank you!” you chirped, bright and happy, and before he could brace himself you reached up and tugged the tie of the cover-up. It slipped right off your shoulders and you held it

Dex’s brain flatlined.

Holy shit.

New material, his mind supplied instantly, already filing every detail away for later. For when he was alone in his room tonight, door locked, hand wrapped tight around his cock, biting down on his wrist so you wouldn’t hear him falling apart through the thin wall. He was so unbelievably fucked.

You dropped the cover-up over the arm of the couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside you. “C’mere then.”

Dex nodded like a bobble head and lowered himself onto the couch on shaky legs, the cushions sinking under his weight. His hands trembled as he took the sunscreen from you and squeezed way too much into his palm. A thick white pool sat there like evidence of how badly he was failing at playing it cool.

He rubbed his palms together slowly, the wet sound loud in the quiet room, warming the lotion between his fingers. Then he scooted closer and placed his hands at the top of your back, right below the delicate knot of your bikini strings.

Fuck.

His thumbs pressed into your warm skin and he started rubbing careful circles, spreading the lotion down the smooth line of your spine. He was trying so hard to stay respectful, but his brain was already ten steps ahead—imagining taking the string with his teeth, tugging it loose, watching the strings fall away so he could finally see everything he’d been fantasizing about for months.

Dex’s breath caught. He kept his hands moving anyway, trying like hell not to let you feel how badly they were shaking.

“Mmm… your hands feel really good, Ben,” you said, low and a little breathy. You even used his first name, and it hit him like you knew exactly what it would do to him.

His whole body jolted.

“S-Sorry?” The word came out too loud and cracked right in the middle. His hands froze on your skin, palms pressed flat against your back, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his fingertips.

You let out a soft, knowing laugh and twisted on the couch. Before his brain could catch up, you swung one leg over his lap and straddled him. Your warm thighs settled around his hips, your ass pressing right down against the front of his sweatpants where he was already half-hard and completely hopeless.

Dex’s back hit the cushions hard, body stiff as a board. Every muscle locked up tight. His lotion-slick hands flew up in the air.

“Wh-what—you—I—What are you doing?”

You settled your full weight on his thighs, hands resting lightly on his shoulders, and smiled down at him with that sweet, wicked look that wiped every coherent thought from his head.

“You want to touch them, don’t you, Benjamin?” you asked softly, tilting your head. “I know you’ve wanted me for a long time. I see the way you look at me when I walk around in my sundresses. When I bend over to grab something. You think I don’t notice?”

Dex’s mouth opened, then closed. Words failed him for a second.

“I—I didn’t—fuck, okay I did, but I swear I wasn’t trying to be creepy— Jesus Christ you’re so pretty and I’m such a fucking loser but yes please—you can sit here forever—I’ll do anything—I’ll buy you all the sunscreen in the store—I’ll—fuck—”

His hands stayed hovering uselessly in the air, trembling, eyes wide and glassy behind his glasses as he stared up at you.

You giggled, clearly loving every second of his meltdown, and traced one finger slowly down his forehead, over the bridge of his nose, then across his bottom lip. Your fingertip caught on the way his mouth shook.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I don’t mind. I like it when you look at me like that.”

Dex’s breathing turned ragged, chest heaving under you. Every exhale fogged his glasses a little more. His cock was fully hard now, throbbing against your ass, and he was mortified and turned on beyond belief.

You slid your fingers into his brown hair, messing it up and tugged gently until his head tipped back with a shaky gasp. Then you plucked his glasses off his face and set them neatly on the couch cushion beside you.

“You’re already so hot with these on,” you murmured, brushing his hair back from his forehead, nails scraping lightly over his scalp, “but you shouldn’t hide that handsome face all the time.” You leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Can you still see me?”

Dex blinked hard. The world went soft and blurry without the lenses, but you were right there—warm, soft, and practically naked on his lap, tits inches from his mouth. His hands finally settled on your hips, thumbs brushing the edge of your bikini bottoms.

“Y-yeah,” he breathed, still panting. “I can still see you.”

“Good,” you said with another soft laugh, palms sliding down his chest, over his shoulders, feeling every tense line of him like you were marking what was yours. “Then you won’t mind taking off your hoodie right now, will you?”

Dex’s brain blue-screened, “Y-You want me to do what?”

You rocked your hips once, slow and deliberate, grinding right against the obvious bulge in his sweats. He choked on air.

“Take off your clothes, Ben.”

“R-really?”

“Really.”

His voice cracked embarrassingly high. “This is a joke, right? You’re fucking with me—”

You didn’t bother answering with words. You just stood up, reached behind your neck, and pulled the bow. The knot came undone with one easy tug. The pink bikini top slipped down and you tossed it onto the couch.

Dex’s eyes went wide and inhaled sharply. “Oh my god…”

Your breasts were right there—bare, nipples already tight from the way he was staring. He couldn’t look away. His cock throbbed hard against his sweats. His hands fisted the couch cushions so tightly his knuckles went white.

You planted your hands on your hips, completely at ease. “Do you want to get off or not?”

That snapped him out of it. Dex yanked his hoodie up and over his head in one jerky motion, then stripped off the white t-shirt underneath. He sat there shirtless, and holy shit—he was ripped. Broad shoulders, defined chest, abs flexing with every shaky breath, that sharp V-line disappearing into his low-slung sweats.

You drank him in like you’d been waiting years for this exact reveal, eyes darkening, lips parting. A slow, hungry smile curved your mouth, like you’d always known the shy, glasses-wearing roommate was secretly built like that under the hoodies. Like you’d been imagining peeling him open just as much as he’d been imagining you.

“Fuck, Dex,” you breathed, stepping between his spread thighs. “I knew you were hiding all that.”

Dex swallowed hard, throat bobbing. A tiny, shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He still couldn’t believe any of this was happening to him.

“What… what do you want me to do?”

You hummed, dragging your gaze over every cut line of his torso while you decided. “Why don’t you get on your knees and make me come? Then I’ll let you play with my breasts.”

His eyes blew wide, like a kid who just got told Christmas came early. “Really? You—you actually want me to—?”

You laughed, low and fond, cocking your hip. “Are you going to ask me that every single time? Yes, really. Taste me.”

Dex’s breath stuttered out in a shaky exhale. He slid off the couch in slow motion, knees hitting the floor with a soft thud. He knelt between your thighs, looking up at you with those big hazel eyes, glasses-less and wrecked. 

“I’m just… surprised you want me to,” he mumbled, adorably earnest. “I mean… me?”

You combed your fingers through his messy hair, nails scraping his scalp, and his whole body jolted like you’d shocked him. A tinybwhimper slipped out before he could swallow it.

“Well, I really need to know what that mouth feels like,” you murmured, still petting him like he was yours.

Dex’s breath hitched hard. “O-okay… okay, fuck—thank you.”

He leaned in and caught the left tie of your bikini bottoms between his teeth (exactly the way he’d just fantasized) and tugged with a desperate little groan vibrating in his throat. The knot slipped free. He moved to the right side, teeth grazing your hip bone, pulling harder this time, eyes fluttering shut as a muffled “mmph” vibrated against your skin.

The pink bottoms fluttered to the floor.

He was inches from your bare pussy, that sweet strawberry-and-you scent flooding his lungs. He looked up at you one last time, cheeks flushed.

“Fuck… you’re so pretty,” he whispered. He looked up at you so intently, those beautiful hazel eyes blazing through the haze of his glasses-less blur.

For the second time this morning his brain is lagging—this gorgeous, confident woman gripping his hair, looking at him like he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. As if he wasn’t just some awkward, hoodie-wearing loser who’d jerked off to the image of you in his head for six straight months. It couldn’t be real, could it? He was going to wake up any second, cock in his fist, alone in his cold bed again—then he lowered his lips to your pussy and he knew it was real.

The first touch was so delicately gentle, just the soft press of his open mouth, a shaky, whimpery kiss right against your folds. A savouring hum caught in his throat the second your taste hit his tongue. The sensation tore through you like lightning, and you arched hard, knees buckling with a startled cry that made his cock twitch painfully in his sweats.

“Oh wow,” you moaned breathlessly, gripping his bare shoulder. “You’re… surprisingly really good at this.”

You tried to steady yourself on one foot as he brought your other leg up, easing it over his shoulder with trembling hands. His tongue dragged flat and worshipful from your entrance to your clit, then swirled lazy, needy circles, moaning into you the whole time that vibrated straight through your core. 

“Mmmph—fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbled against you, voice muffled and desperate. “I don’t deserve this—mmh—so sweet, I’m sorry I’m so greedy but I can’t stop—”

He closed his mouth over your swollen clit and kissed it like it was the love of his life, lips sucking and smacking wetly, moving exactly like he was French-kissing your mouth. His tongue swirled in huge, sloppy circles, groaning loud and shameless right into you as he gripped your hips with those strong hands, yanking you harder against his face so he could grind his nose against your clit.

He pulled back just enough to stare up at you with those worshipful eyes before his tongue started flicking your clit in rapid, frantic little strokes. His gaze never left yours, drinking in every gasp and twitch like your pleasure was the only validation he’d ever need. His hips jerk pathetically against nothing, completely lost in the taste of you, groaning and begging between messy licks.

“Oh my, g-god. Dex—slide your tongue in again.”

You bucked hard towards his nose, a muffled cry slipping through your bitten lips as his tongue pushed deep inside you, thick and wet and pulsing like he was trying to fuck you with it. He groaned into your pussy, the vibration rolling straight to your clit, and your fingers twisted tighter in his messy hair. The second you yanked him closer, he let out the cutest, muffled little laugh against your soaked folds then drove his tongue even deeper, curling, licking, devouring like he’d die if he couldn’t taste every drop of you.

Dex pulled back just enough to drag in a shaky breath, lips glossy and swollen, spit and your slick shining down his chin.

“Please—fuck, please keep pulling my hair like that,” he begged. His hips still rolled helplessly against nothing, the fat outline of his cock straining obscenely against his sweats, a wet spot blooming darker where he was leaking for you. “I love it when you do—”

“Yeah?” You gave his hair a sharp tug, watching the way his whole body jolted like you’d electrocuted him. A wicked smile curved your lips. “You like it when I get a little rough?”

“Yes—yes, fuck, I love it,” he groaned, eyes fluttering.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, nails scraping possessively over his scalp again. “You’re so fucking sweet when you beg. Almost makes me want to be nice to you…” You yanked harder, and his moan cracked into a needy whimper that made his thighs shake. “…but it’s way too sexy when you fall apart like this. I also like my men strong, Benjamin. Are you strong?”

“Oh fuck—” 

He surged up from his knees without warning. Big hands grabbed your hips and spun you around with barely an effort. You barely had time to gasp before he lifted you and tossed you back onto the couch. Your back bounced against the cushions, and before you could even speak he was right there again, down on his knees between your spread legs.

His palms shoved your thighs up and back, folding you neatly in half until your knees pressed to your chest. Your pussy was completely open, glistening and dripping right in front of his face.

Dex dove back in like he’d lost his mind. His tongue dragged up to your clit, flicking and sucking with fresh, desperate hunger. Just when you started missing the stretch of him inside you, he pushed two thick fingers deep, thrusting slowly at first, then harder, curling them exactly where you needed them.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, head falling back. “You’re such a good boy—I don’t even have to tell you what to do.”

He was devouring you now. Every time he sucked your clit between his lips he made wet, filthy slurping sounds, humming deep and greedy in his throat.

“Mmmph—fuuuck,” he groaned right against your pussy, the vibration rolling straight through you. “You know this pussy owns me now, right? Owns my face. Owns my mouth.” His tongue lapped messily through your folds, slurping noisily at every drop, chin already shiny and dripping. “I could kneel here and lick you all fucking day. You’ve made such a mess out of me.”

He hummed louder, eyes squeezed shut in pure bliss, fingers pumping faster, curling hard against that spot that made your back arch clean off the couch and stars burst behind your eyelids.

Pleasure slammed through you hard enough to rip a loud cry from your throat. Dex’s tongue kept dragging those slow, filthy circles around your clit, savoring every twitch, while his fingers drove deep inside you in that steady, ruthless rhythm that had you trying to grind down on his face even though he had you folded in half.

And fuck, you thought with a dazed little smirk, it’s always the quiet ones who turn out to be absolute freaks.

“That’s it—own my face,” he whimpered desperately against your pussy, voice wrecked and needy. “Fucking own it. Come all over your good boy. Come all over your obedient little servant. That’s me. That’s all me.”

“Fuck—Dex, I’m coming,” you whispered urgently, as he rocked your hips against his face. “You’re going to make me come…”

Dex let out a groany laugh, eyes squeezing shut for a second like he couldn’t believe his luck. “Yes, give it to me,” he begged, lips trembling against your pussy. “Come in my mouth, flood my tongue, I’ll drink every fucking drop—”

His fingers drove deeper, faster, curling hard against that perfect spot while his tongue licked you quick and greedy, groaning low and filthy the whole time. He slurped and sucked like he was starving, humming desperately because you tasted so good he couldn’t get enough.

You cried out as the orgasm hit you, sharp and overwhelming. Your pussy clenched tight around his fingers, gushing all over his eager mouth and chin while he kept licking and sucking through every single pulse, moaning like he was coming right along with you.

“Oh fuck that’s it—that’s it, give me everything,” he mumbled between messy swallows, voice thick and grateful. “Fuck—thank you.”

When you finally started to come down, Dex pulled back just enough to press soft, reverent kisses to your inner thighs, lips trembling against your slick skin. He looked up and found you staring into the void, dazed and breathless, lips parted like you’d forgotten how to form words.

His hands itched. God, they fucking itched to slide up and cup those beautiful breasts but he didn’t dare move without permission. He was still your pathetic little servant, still on his knees, still terrified; this was all some cruel dream that would vanish if he got too greedy.

“Um… c-can I touch them now?” he asked, cheeks burning hot. “Please?”

That snapped you out of it. Your lips curved into a naughty little smile that made his cock twitch hard in his sweats. You sat up, cupped his chin, and tilted his flushed face up to you, thumb brushing the mess he’d made of his mouth.

“Of course you can, baby,” you said sweetly.

You pulled him up, swapped places, and pushed him back onto the couch. Then you opened his knees wide and swung a leg over to straddle his lap again. The heat of your bare pussy settled right over the massive bulge in his sweats and he whimpered, hips jerking up helplessly.

“How can I say no after you made me come like that?”

You took his shaking hands in yours and guided them slowly up your sides, over your ribs, until his palms were cupping your breasts. Dex gave them a tentative squeeze, thumbs brushing over your tight nipples.

You laughed softly, eyes sparkling. “You like them?”

He swallowed hard, throat working. “Yes,” he breathed, voice completely wrecked. “They’re… they’re perfect. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

His lips closed around one breast with a loud, wet, noisy suck. He moaned against your skin, eyes fluttering shut, tongue swirling as he pulled you deeper into his mouth.

You grinned, threading your fingers through his messy hair and holding him there while he made those shameless, hungry noises. Only then did you reach down between you and palm the thick, heavy outline of his cock through his sweats. Your eyes widened. A delighted little gasp slipped out as you felt exactly how big he was—rock-solid, fat, straining so hard the fabric was barely holding him in.

“Oh my word,” you murmured, giving him a slow, appreciative stroke that made his head fall back with a moan, your nipple still caught between his lips. “You just keep getting better and better, don’t you?”

Dex’s hips bucked hard into your hand, a pathetic little whine escaping around your breast because your touch was the first real one he’d felt in months.

You squeezed him again, loving the way his ripped abs flexed under your thighs. “No wonder you always walk like that…” Another stroke, thumb circling the wet spot at the tip until he gasped. “Poor baby’s been carrying this around the apartment every day and I never knew.”

Dex’s eyes locked on your hand, watching every lazy movement like it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. “Oh God—oh my God—fuck,” he gasped, hips twitching up into your palm without any control left. “Yeah—your hand feels so good—”

You gave him a firmer squeeze and his whole body jerked, those perfect abs clenching hard.

“Holy shit—uh—oh God. Fuck, you squeezing me like that—oh God—oh—” His head tipped all the way back, eyes half-lidded behind the blur of pleasure.

You leaned in close, lips brushing his ear. “Poor baby… already leaking all over my hand and I’ve barely touched you. Bet this feels a hell of a lot better than fucking your own fist thinking about me every night, doesn’t it?”

Dex’s whole body jolted. His eyes flew open, wide and stunned. His breath hitched while a shy, embarrassed little laugh caught in his throat as he stared at you like you’d just punched him in the chest with pure affection.

“Oh, it’s just… no one’s ever, uh, talked to me like this before,” he stammered, flashing that sheepish little smile that made your chest do something stupid. “No one’s ever said stuff like that to me. I—I’m sorry, I sound so stupid, I just—fuck, keep talking to me like that, please? God, it’s so hot I don’t know what to do with myself—”

You smiled against his ear and gave the shell a soft, wicked nibble that made his hips jerk again. “Well then,” you whispered, “has no one ever played with this fat cock the way I’m gonna?”

Dex opened his mouth to answer, but the words died the second your hand slipped under the waistband of his sweats. Your fingers wrapped around his bare, throbbing length and gave one long, slow stroke from base to tip.

“You’re so… Mm—you’re so—fuck—” His sentence crumbled. He tried to keep going, tried to tell you how no one had ever touched him like this, how he’d jerked off in the shower every single morning just so he wouldn’t walk around the apartment hard for you, but every drag of your hand wiped his brain clean. “I was gonna say—I mean—no one’s—Jesus Christ your hand is so soft—I can’t—I can’t even think when you—mmph—”

His head fell back against the couch while he kept trying anyway, lips moving, desperate to finish a single coherent thought, but every slow pump of your fist stole another piece of him. His abs clenched, thighs shaking under you, cock twitching hard in your grip as you stroked him nice and luxurious, spreading all that pre-cum until the wet sounds filled the room.

“I’ve never—no one’s ever touched me like—fuck, like that—slow—oh my god, please don’t stop, I sound so pathetic but I— I’ve dreamed about your hand—every night—and it’s so much better—I can’t—I can’t even finish a—fuck—”

You watched him with adoration in your eyes,  tilting your head and shut him up with your lips, kissing him so eagerly it stole the rest of his broken sentence right out of his mouth.

You swallowed it instantly, tongue sliding past his lips like you already owned every sound he made. He tried to kiss you back, clumsy and desperate, but you took control so completely that all he could do was whimper into your mouth while you explored him with strokes of your tongue that promised exactly what that same mouth could do somewhere much lower.

“Mm—fuck—mmph—” he tried again, the words vibrating against your lips, but you just kissed him deeper, twisting your wrist on the upstroke until his whole body jerked and another moan spilled straight into your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to reach for his glasses on the cushion beside you. With gentle fingers you slid them back onto his face.

“There,” you murmured, sweet as sugar. “I think you need to see me suck this dick in high definition.”

Dex blinked hard behind the lenses, the world snapping back into sharp, perfect focus around your wicked little smile. Before he could even try to form words, you slid off his lap, dropped to your knees between his spread thighs, and settled in. 

He watched, completely helpless and shaking, as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and boxers and dragged them down his hips in one smooth tug. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, and your fingers curled right around the base.

Dex’s hands flew up to cover his face, glasses knocked crooked. A muffled, delirious little laugh slipped out between his palms. “Fuck… I’m the luckiest man alive right now.”

You gave his cock a slow, appreciative stroke, then looked up at him with that firm, commanding glint in your eyes. “Look at me, Ben. Never take your eyes off me. Got it?”

Dex nodded so fast his glasses slipped down his nose again, eyes wide behind them, locked on your face like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. 

You leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to the flushed, leaking head of his cock. Then lower. And lower. Before you smacked the heavy length against your cheek with deliberate, filthy slaps.

“God, you’re so heavy,” you teased, rubbing the thick shaft along your cheek while your eyes stayed glued to his. “How the hell do you think this is supposed to fit anywhere, huh? You’re gonna have to split me open, aren’t you?”

Dex let out a long, wrecked groan, thighs trembling on either side of you. He couldn’t look away. Not when you stuck your tongue out flat, laid his cock across it, and started smacking the shaft against the warm, wet muscle in solid, teasing taps.

He was going to die. He was actually going to die right here on the couch with his glasses on and your pretty mouth teasing the absolute hell out of him, and he’d thank you for it with his last breath.

“G-go choke on it first,” he blurted in a sudden rush of bravery, then immediately looked mortified. “I-I mean… if you want to…”

Your eyebrow snapped up, a wicked little grin spreading across your face as you nodded like you were proud of him for saying that.

Dex’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard he felt dizzy.

You leaned in closer, lips brushing the leaking tip as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Is that what you fantasize about when you jerk off in your room at night?” you purred. “Me choking on this fat cock? Gagging all pretty for you while you watch?”

Dex’s mouth fell open, hips twitching helplessly toward your face. “Y-yes—fuck, yes. Every night. Every single night—”

You didn’t let him finish.

The second the words left his lips you took the head of his cock into your mouth, and Dex gasped so hard it felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs.

It was too much. Too good. Velvety and hot and so fucking lucious that his whole spine lit up like a live wire. A strangled groan left him as pleasure streaked through every nerve ending at once. His hands flew to the couch cushions, knuckles white, because if he didn’t hold on he’d probably float straight out of his body.

You sank down slowly, taking more of him, tongue pressed flat underneath as your lips stretched tight around his thickness. Dex’s glasses fogged at the edges. His abs clenched hard, thighs shaking on either side of you.

You licked your way back up to the head, suctioning hard, then swirled your tongue over it, dipping into the slit to taste the steady leak of pre-cum like you were savoring him. Dex’s head fell back for half a second before he remembered your order and forced his eyes back down to you, chest heaving.

God. How many times had he imagined you on your knees just like this; sucking him slow and deep while you looked up at him with those pretty eyes?

Every single one of those fantasies paled. They were pathetic little shadows compared to the reality of you. The intense, electrifying heat that scorched every nerve ending as you lowered yourself again, sliding your sweet, wet mouth further down his shaft until he felt the back of your throat flutter around him. His hips jerked involuntarily, a choked “f-fuck—” ripping out of him before he could stop it.

Pleasure surged through him and he arched back sharply, the feeling so intense he nearly yanked out of your mouth. But he rode those waves, blood pounding hot through his veins as his cock throbbed with incredible bliss. You sucked him hard and sensually, lips stretched tight around him and cheeks hollowing as you milked more ecstasy from him than he'd ever felt in his life.

When you came back up you let him go with a wet pop and smiled up at him, eyes sparkling like you were enjoying the hell out of wrecking him. Your smile made his cock throb and jerk, and you chased it with your tongue and laughed, taking it back in with that delicious, silky warmth.

“Just like that—” Dex moaned, voice tight with ecstasy. He slid one hand into your hair, caressing first, then gripping the back of your neck like he needed something solid to hold onto. 

“It feels so good holy shit.” he breathed as you gradually increased your pace. You wrapped both hands around the base of his cock and started stroking in time with your mouth, faster now. Dex’s head dropped back against the couch again before dragging his gaze back down. He couldn’t miss this. Not for a single second.

His hand gently cradled and guided your head, fingers weaving through your hair as the overwhelming desire to lock you in place and thrust into your mouth consumed him. 

His free hand joined the first, sinking in and tightening his hold as the raw sensuality left him dizzy and breathless. He started rocking his hips slowly, testing, mesmerized by the way your eyes fluttered as you took him deeper.

But then you smiled around his cock and sucked harder. That was all it took.

Dex drove in faster, deeper, his cock slick and shiny with your spit as he thrust up your throat. You took him beautifully—until he forced just a little too far. Your throat fluttered, then clenched like a fist as you choked, the sloppy, gagging buzz shooting down his entire cock.

He froze for a second, glasses slipping down his nose, panic and lust warring on his face. 

“S-sorry—fuck, that’s so hot, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but don’t stop—please don’t stop—” He was panting, glasses fogged, hips still rocking again and again, savoring the way your throat squeezed every time you gagged softly around him. He couldn’t help it even while apologizing. 

You just hummed around him like you owned every inch, eyes watering but never breaking that locked-in stare, taking him even deeper on the next thrust, letting him fuck your throat raw. 

He was going to come. God dammit, he was going to explode like a firework in your mouth any second now.

But nope. You pulled off with a wet, filthy pop, lips shiny and puffy, a shiny string of spit still linking you to his throbbing tip like a naughty little bridge.

“W-why’d you stop?” he blurted, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Did I—did I do something wrong? Fuck, I’m sorry, I got carried away, I just— I was so close.”

You shook your head, flashing that wicked little grin as you crawled straight up his body and swung a leg over, straddling his lap like you were claiming the throne. One hand cupped those full, heavy, aching balls, rolling them nice and slow while you dragged your soaked pussy along the underside of his cock, slicking him up marking your territory.

“I’m not wasting a single drop of this,” you whispered, all husky and low, thumb stroking that crazy-sensitive spot right behind his balls. “You’re spilling every bit inside me.”

Dex looked like his brain had officially powered off. “I-inside you? Holy shit—aren’t you scared you might—?”

You chuckled and ground down harder, sliding all over him like you owned the ride. “Got any condoms stashed somewhere, cutie?” you asked, all innocent and sweet while your hips kept rolling.

Dex just gaped, fish-mouthed and speechless. “....no.”

You let out a bright, delighted little laugh and climbed off his lap, “Guess we’re doing this raw then, huh?” You flopped onto your back on the couch, hair fanning out across the cushions, and hooked your knees up high, feet planted on the edge.

With zero shame, you reached down and spread yourself open for him, two fingers parting your slick, puffy folds so he could see everything. Your little hole clenched visibly under his stare, shiny and dripping from how much you’d enjoyed choking on him.

“Look at what you did to me, Benjamin,” you purred. “See how fucking wet I am? It’s because of you. My poor little pussy’s been clenching around nothing the whole time I was sucking you off, just thinking about how you’re finally gonna stuff me full.”

Dex made a strangled noise, eyes glued to the way your fingers teased your entrance, dipping just the tip of one inside before pulling back to circle your clit. You were so ready and glistening and open for him it hurt.

“Mmm, you like the view, don’t you?” you teased, tilting your hips up a little more so he could see even deeper. “Look how this little hole keeps fluttering. It’s so empty, Dex. Been waiting months for this fat cock to stretch it open. You gonna give it to me? Gonna give me all that cum you’ve been saving for me every night? Or are you just gonna sit there staring like a cute little pervert while I play with myself?”

Dex’s glasses slipped down his nose again, “No, I’m going to give you anything you want.”

You just grinned wider, “Then come here and take what’s yours, nerd.”

He scrambled between your spread thighs like a man on a mission and a panic attack at the same time, knees sinking into the couch cushions. His hands shook as he gripped the backs of your thighs, lining himself up. The fat head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance and he actually whimpered at how hot and wet you felt.

“Okay, okay. Look, I’ll just… m-maybe, maybe you should be on top, you know?” he blurted. “S-so you’re, um… yeah, so y-you can, like, control it? I don’t wanna hurt—”

You laughed softly, reaching up to tug him closer by the back of his neck. “It’s fine, Dex.”

“I don’t—I don’t wanna squish you—” he tried again, eyes wide behind his glasses, cock throbbing against your pussy like it had a mind of its own.

You laughed, low and fond. “Just go, Dex.”

“Just go,” he echoed, half-laughing, half-panicking. “Yeah, just… uh. Uh. Uh. Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

The head slipped inside you, stretching you open in one smooth glide. Dex’s eyes dropped to where your bodies met and he forgot how to breathe entirely. You threw your head back and moaned as your pussy parted for him, taking every thick inch until he was buried to the hilt, heavy balls pressed against your ass.

“Oh shit,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “I’m inside you—you feel so fucking good.”

He pulled back slowly, and your pussy clenched around him like it didn’t want to let him go. Then he drove back in until his tip met a dead end, stretching you open all over again. You grabbed his right wrist and slapped his big palm straight onto your breast. His fingers squeezed hard on instinct. At the same time you caught his left hand and pressed his thumb against your bottom lip. 

The second he felt the wet heat of your mouth close around it, Dex’s eyes flew open wide behind his glasses. You sucked on his thumb like it was his cock, matching every thrust, moaning around it shamelessly.

“Jesus Christ,” he whimpered, voice cracking. “You’re—fuck, look at you. I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that, baby. I swear I’m trying but you feel too good and you’re sucking on my thumb and I—oh my god—”

You just smiled around his thumb and sucked harder, never breaking eye contact, letting him feel exactly how much you wanted every desperate, awkward, perfect inch of him.

Dex couldn’t stop staring down between your bodies. His thick cock was sliding in and out of your pussy in these dragging strokes, shiny and glistening with how wet you were. Every time he pulled back he could see the way your folds stretched around him, clinging tight, and every time he pushed back in he watched himself disappear inside you until his hips met yours. He was completely obsessed with the sight, breathing hard through his mouth like he’d never seen anything so hot in his life.

Without thinking he slid his hand down from your breast and pressed the heel of his palm firmly against your lower stomach, right above where he was buried deep. The sudden pressure made everything feel impossibly tighter. You whined loud around his thumb, the sound vibrating against his skin as your pussy fluttered hard around his cock.

“Fuck—did that feel good?” he panted, eyes still glued to the spot where you were joined, pressing down a little harder as he thrusts.

As if guided by that lust alone, he began to thrust into a deep, forceful rhythm, his rigid cock stretching you each time. You moaned hummingly with each stroke, feeling the power of his hips as they slapped against you, imagining the strong muscles of his thighs flexing and straining to drive his cock into you deeper and harder every time. He crashed against you, his short breaths matching his pace, his moans of pleasure spiking as senseless words spilled from his lips.

You pulled his thumb from your mouth with a wet pop, grabbed his wrist again, and swapped it for the two fingers he'd buried inside you earlier, sucking it until your cheeks hollow.

Dex’s rhythm faltered for half a second, then slammed back in even harder.

“Holy shit I don't think I can’t take it,” he panted, voice cracking high and desperate. “I can’t take it. Ugh, you have to come soon. You have to come soon. Oh, fuck—”

He was panting and groaning as he thrust and bucked, hips snapping forward like he was chasing something he couldn’t quite catch. His eyes brightened with this wild, pleasure-pain look you’d never seen before; glassy, almost frantic, like he was right on the razor’s edge and hanging on by a thread. His glasses were crooked, hair sticking to his forehead, mouth open on every broken moan.

“I’m so close— I’m so fucking close but I need you to come first, please, I need to feel you coming on my cock before I fill you up, I can’t— I can’t hold it— fuck, please come for me—”

He was so close. You could feel it in the way his cock swelled even thicker inside you, the way his thrusts turned sloppy and urgent. He needed your release, your surrender, and he would detonate the second you gave it to him.

You reached up, grabbed his face with both hands, and pulled him down so your foreheads touched. “You can take it—keep going,” you gasped, voice shaky but firm. “Put your mouth on my neck, baby—right now.”

He obeyed instantly like the good, desperate boy he was. A quiet, “o-okay—yeah, fuck, okay” tumbled out of him as he dipped his head. You gasped and swallowed hard, tilting your chin back to give him more room, your whole body shaking with the force of every thrust. One of your hands slid between your bodies so you could rub tight, frantic circles over your clit, chasing that last spark.

Dex’s lips found your throat first, kissing the throbbing pulse there, then his tongue dragged up the side of your neck in one long, wet stripe. When it danced along the shell of your earlobe you shivered hard, a full-body tremble that made your pussy clench around him. And when he dipped the tip of his tongue right inside your ear you sobbed.

“F-fuck, I love it when you moan like that.” he whimpered against your ear.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged, forcing his mouth back to your neck while your fingers kept rubbing faster. “Say dirty things to me, Dex,” you panted, voice husky. “Tell me how good I feel. Tell me what you’re gonna do when you come inside me. Don’t stop talking.”

“Yeah—fuck, I’m trying,” Dex panted against your skin, hips snapping forward in these desperate little thrusts. “If I talk to you, you’ll come, right? Yeah? I want that. I want you to come so fucking bad—”

You nodded hard. “Yes—fuck, yes! Just say all the nasty shit you say to yourself when you jerk off thinking about me.”

“Fuck, listen to you,” he groaned, suddenly finding his rhythm. “Sucking my cock earlier like you wanted to steal my soul, choking on it like a greedy little whore, and now you’re begging me to pump you full?” He slammed into you hard. “You want this fat load in your pussy that bad?” Another brutal thrust. “After months of prancing around in those tiny dresses, bending over right in front of me just to watch me lose my goddamn mind?” Slam. 

“God, you’re such a dirty fucking slut for your nerdy roommate’s cock, aren’t you?” He licked into your ear, hips pounding harder. “That’s it—rub that clit faster, baby. I’m gonna flood this sloppy little cunt until it’s dripping down your thighs. Come on my cock—come on, come on—”

“Oh fuck—Dex!” Your whole body seized in a convulsive orgasm, pussy clamping down around him, milking his cock as you screamed against his shoulder. 

He cried out and flooded into you, bucking and thrusting as your pussy drained him. Slick with sweat you writhed together, your voices echoing through the room, your cries and moans mingling as you milked him, drained him, sucked every drop of cum from his pulsing cock as he emptied himself into you completely.

His rhythm finally gave out and he melted into you, still shuddering deep inside while the last of his cum spilled free. Every twitch was met with your walls hugging him tight, like they were determined to wring him dry and keep him forever—the same way you’d just been completely his. Both of you panting hard, bodies flushed and shiny with sweat, you lay there pressed together, still connected, floating in that beautiful, ageless after-sex haze.

You were heaving, chest rising and falling under him. “Holy shit…”

Dex lifted up on shaky arms, glasses crooked, hair a sweaty mess, and gazed down at you like you’d personally hung the moon. His hazel eyes were soft and dazed and so full of wonder it made your chest ache. He leaned in slowly, lips parting like he was about to kiss you for real this time—

—and then the unmistakable sound of a key sliding into the front door lock echoed through the apartment.

Both of you froze.

“Shit—shitshitshit—” Dex whisper-yelled, scrambling off you so fast he nearly fell off the couch. While you both snatched up whatever clothes you could reach.

“My room—now!” You hissed, dragging Dex who is clutching his sweats and hoodie like a lifeline as you yanked behind you as fast as your shaky legs would go. Your room was closest and didn’t face the front door—thank god.

You barely made it inside, slamming the door behind you just as the living room lights flicked on. Dex pressed himself flat against the wall right behind the door, stark naked, cock still half-hard and glistening, one hand clamped over his mouth so he wouldn’t breathe too loud. 

You snatched your short silk robe off the chair and threw it on, barely tying it before—

Knock knock knock.

“Hey, what’s taking you so long?” your roommate called through the door, voice bright and clueless. “We’re all waiting for you at the pool!”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal and failing spectacularly. “Sorry! Couldn’t find my swimwear. I’ll be there in a sec!”

Dex’s eyes were huge behind his glasses. He looked like he was one second from passing out.

You heard her footsteps start to retreat...then stop, “Uh… your bikini top is literally on the couch out here.”

“Oh really?” you called back, somehow managing to sound breezy even though you were standing there in nothing but a barely-tied silk robe with your very naked, very well-fucked roommate hiding behind the door. “I must’ve dropped it. I’ll grab it soon! You should go ahead, I won’t be long!”

You heard your roommate laugh under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like "okay weirdo.” before her footsteps finally padded away down the hall. The front door clicked shut behind her.

Dex let out a huge, shaky breath, shoulders sagging like the weight of the entire universe had just lifted off him.

“You… you should go,” he mumbled, voice all hoarse and uncertain as he rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re waiting for you at the pool and I— I don’t wanna get them suspicious of you or anything…”

You didn’t answer with words.

Instead, you walked straight up to him, rose onto your highest tiptoes, and pressed your body flush against his. The thin silk robe did almost nothing to separate your skin from his.

You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him once—soft and sweet, tasting the leftover desperation on his lips. Then again, a little slower. And a third time, lingering like you were promising more.

When you finally pulled back just enough to speak, your lips still brushed his.

“I won’t be long,” you whispered, smiling up at him with that same sweet, knowing look that always made his stomach flip.

[darlingshane]

Jon wearing low rise pants

[bemyluvr]

Waiting For A Girl Like You

part two to this universe!

pairing: sleazy!joel x oblivious!reader

summary: since your gas station hookup, joel can’t seem to rid you from his memories, aimlessly watching you through your window every night, he decides he can’t take it anymore—sneaking through the opened glass, forcing you to face him

cw: 18+ MDNI, no-outbreak au, set in the early 00’s, slight age gap (he’s in his 30’s here), neighbor!joel, non-con vouyerism, stalking, joel sneaking in readers window, shaved pubic hair, fingering, feminine presenting reader, a brief pussy inspection, slut shaming, prone-bone, daddy’s girl mentions, giving joel a half-assed hand job, a light hearted ily, strawberry chapstick, kissing, body suffocation?, jealous!joel, subby!reader, pussy slapping, edging, trying to be quiet, manipulation, big dick miller, creampie, aftercare, lots of back and forth emotions, hes just really weird but reader likes it!

wc: 9k

a/n: alright so…this was supposed to be a short and fun part two for the people asking, but it seems i can’t do short fics anymore, sorry!!

If he finally got the chance to fuck you—just one singular time, it would have been his first wish if he found a genie in a bottle on some incidental deserted island, to get you—no—convince you to fuck him, it would have made all of this so much easier. He could simply leave you in your lonesome and discard you as if you meant nothing, effectively getting over you before the sun comes up.

That’s what Joel told himself over and over until he finally got the opportunity to feel your velvety walls, the same slick cunt he’s been dreaming about getting his grimey hands on for months, he promptly realized how screwed he was.

It was generational, a once in a lifetime opportunity for a man like him to get with a girl like you, parading around the sidewalk in your short pleated skirts, the stride of your hips always swaying so effortlessly, the breeze allowing the fabric to ride up the fat of your thighs with the wind.

Fucking you in that gas station—although ridiculously worth it, the encounter only made things worse for him, beginning to grow increasingly obsessed with you. From the moment he woke up to the time he flopped his head down on his flimsy pillows, he imagined the way you felt pressed against him, your soft skin just as plush as he always imagined.

You were starting to crawl your way deeper into his skin, ripping the flesh down to the bone, your scent flowing through his veins like a sticky, syrupy venom—one he couldn’t suck out of his bloodstream without getting withdrawals, his body solely devoted to your oblivious mind.

Life isn’t fair—Joel is a virtue to that, and he was losing his composure day by day, doing what he does best—watching you from afar, keeping his distance before he had the opportunity to explore you again.

Your window remains his only chance to see you—to make believe inside his mind. The casual glances he’d give you here and there rapidly turned into something stronger after your secret meeting together, his body turning with excitement every time he got a small glimpse of you, always thankful you leave your bedroom curtains open, your personal space exposed to his line of viewing.

Every night, Joel waits in his bed, tired eyes frantically scanning the clock—ten pm sharp. You submerge sneakily into your bedroom walls, always taking the time to securely lock your door behind you, a signal he takes note of—a delirious feeling taking over him at the idea of sneaking in while your sleeping, breaking the lock open and taking you in comfort of your frilly sheets.

It was addictive, never knowing what or where you’d end up each night, sometimes you’d lay on your bed painting your toenails, even some nights you’d spend extra time in your shower, meticulously going through the motions of your full body routine, popping straight into bed without a show, falling asleep with wet hair and glistening skin.

He desperately wanted to see you again, yet the stunt he pulled at the gas station made him assume he was at a crossroad with you, choosing to watch your night routine and make believe instead of falling asleep to whatever late night re-runs that play on cable.

It wasn’t okay to stalk you like this, the icky man breathing down your neck a couple hundred feet away from you—who remains none the wiser. But it wasn’t his fault your bedroom window is so perfectly placed across from his own and you never bothered closing those damn blinds.

Tonight wasn’t any different, Joel watching you carry out your usual night routine, the time spent in the shower always ending with a small ritual of lotions and creams. You slicked the vanilla scented moisturizers over your body—clad in nothing but a flimsy white towel, the fabric just begging to be ripped open by his clammy fingertips.

He watches for what felt like hours as you finally moved on to your next task, assumingly pacing over to your dresser in hopes of picking out some comfy pajamas to fall asleep in. He chews on his nails, anticipating you picking out something soft and skin-tight, his own breathing picking up at the idea of you in some tiny shorts—the globes of your thick ass hanging out of the material.

You calmly reached into your drawer, fingers rummaging around in the crowded space. Your hand is wrapped around something just slightly out of his line of vision when suddenly—your phone lights up, the slim metal sitting neatly against the woodgrain table-top, the small screen of the flip-phone startling you, your body jerking back.

You quickly reached for it, flipped its clunky screen open, answering whoever was calling you with a cheesy grin plastered on your cheeks. Your mouth slacks open as you began to speak to the person who called you this late at night, Joel mentally cursing to himself as he can’t figure out who it is, his window unfortunately too far away from you, your big yard dividing him from you.

He was enthralled, watching you plop down onto your mattress; stomach first. The new found angle pressed your tits together as you crossed your arm over your chest, the plump flesh practically choking on the seam of the tight towel. You raised your legs, allowing them to aimlessly dangle in the air, the soles of your feet pointed in his direction as you continued speaking.

You looked straight out of an R-rated movie, the kind where the man recording the film gets a chance to fuck the girl next store, and he hoped to god that’s where tonight was headed.

You were practically asking for it, a temptress covered in a small towel, your body already prepared for him to feast on and God was Joel was starving—drool collecting in his mouth, saliva glands drenched with need.

He begins to feel the same feeling in his mouth erupt down to his jeans, his cock thickening at the innocent sight of you, watching you aimlessly adjust and wiggle on the bed, the towel inches away from exposing your pert nipples.

Joel can feel his blood rushing to his ears, his cheeks flushed and irritated. He can’t cum in his pants already, not when the show just begun—awkwardly prying his eyes away from you, he begins to stare at the draft blowing into your window, the wind brushing wildly against your curtains.

The moonlight blooms brightly into the night sky, the pale light shining its white hues onto a metal ladder leaning up against the edge of your house, situated just feet away from your window.

He knew your family had contracted some work to be done on your roof weeks ago, the evidence still lingering around the backyard, boxes of shingles and planks of hardwood covering the green grass. It was clear the company was almost done with the job, yet their materials continued to linger in the yard.

The ladder was awfully distracting, the length perfectly placed. It would be easy to sneak in through the open glass—it was as if the universe put the hunk of metal there just to torment him, to tease him with the same repetitive idea about you—you were always just out of reach.

Thinking with his cock, he cursed under his breath as he slipped his boots on, not bothering to tie the laces, he ran through the house, not bothering to bring anything with him, his mind completely made up on confronting you, even if things go south.

He’s out of breath by the time he gets the ladder into position, shakily stepping up the stairs, he takes his time reaching the ledge of your window, his face just feet away from your unaware, gentle one.

Joel’s unlucky streak has finally ended when he realizes your window is conveniently placed right next to the porch, giving him just enough room to lazily pile his body on top of the small side roofing, the tin material creaking under his tremulous knees as he leans forward, feeling his calves biting the shingles.

The angle situates his predatory line of vision to easily peer through the clear glass, listening to your voice vibrate outside the crack of the window.

Your manicured fingernails continue their tortuous grip on the pink Motorola, holding it up to your ear as you listen to the person talking on the other line. It’s a stark contrast to his palms grazing the slippery vinyl of the window sill, knuckles white with the damming image of you up close, your body language relaxed—the opposite of what you're like with him.

He feels bad. It shouldn’t have to be this way—he shouldn’t even want you this way in the first place; seemingly always having to end up cornering you in a vulnerable position, taking what he wants and abandoning you, leaving himself only wanting more in the end.

You're so endearing and sympathetic, he’s sure you’ll understand soon enough why he’s like this and why he can never find it in him to be normal around you. Everything about you simply drives him crazy, wild enough to sneak into your house like a psychopath, trying to ignore the implications of breaking the law that creep up the back of his neck, hiding his nervousness behind his determination.

You begin to talk again, your voice chirping into the conversation with a slight hum, trying your best to suppress your giggles at whatever the person on the other line was saying. It’s been a while since he’s heard your voice so up close, and he begins to wonder who you're charming on the phone, the sound sickeningly sweet, the syrupy noise making his ears turn like a lost puppy, cocking his head against the concrete wall.

“Alright, have fun and stay safe. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Which isn’t a lot but still, love you.” You sing to the phone, cheeks gleaming underneath the wooozy warmth of your bedside lamp, the lampshades beads dangling from the breeze of wind Joel is currently feeling biting the soft skin on his nose.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Your wording makes his face flush and ears turn pink, unable to control himself bringing a hand down to the growing tent in his jeans, squeezing the spongy flesh.

He’s unsure if his growing member is caused by the adrenaline of sneaking over like this, his hands shaking so uncontrollably it’s making him feel like a teenager again. Maybe it’s from the way you said it; the kind of girl who’s so shy and timid in person but a little minx in the sheets—as if your friends are roped into your personal life, knowing all of your dirty little secrets, even the one where your the girl who does everything, including her next door neighbor.

He plants his body back down on the metal, his bulky frame hidden tightly under the window, squeezing his hand down on his tip. Choking back a groan, his eyes roll so far deep into the back of his skull he could almost see his brain screaming to him about how terrible of an idea this is, but his cock says otherwise, the tip throbbing around his sweaty palm, aching for attention.

His position on the edge is beginning to kill his aching bones, body almost in as much pain as you cause his cock—his patience is wearing so thin he feels translucent. He sits there, waiting in agony for your phone call to end, hitting his head against the wall looking up to the night sky, the sky empty besides the occasional glimpse of a star twinkling in the distance.

Closing his eyes in a huff, the brim of his trucker hat fully covering his chestnut colored irises, he finally hears it—your bedroom door slamming shut.

Peaking over his shoulder his eyes fit around the room, looking for any sign of you and when he sees no one in sight, he makes his move—standing up to pull the window the rest of the way open, he clumsily makes his way inside, tumbling onto the carpet.

Wandering back into your bedroom with a yawn, the minty flavoring of your toothpaste still coats your teeth, lazily rolling your tongue over the leftover residue that reminds clinging to your gums, you don’t expect to open the door to company—company in the man you’ve been attempting to avoid.

Joel Miller.

“What the fuck!” You screech, your hand flying over the glossy skin of your chest in pursuit to conserve yourself.

Your heart flutters in your chest, the organ fumbling head first into the acidic pool of your stomach, the muscle screaming the same way you are, trying your best to control your body from passing out.

You attempt to read the situation, unsure if you should call out for your father, or dial 911 to let them know the man you hooked up with weeks ago has now broken into your house and is currently sitting on your bed as if he’s been over a million times, his stature far too comfortable for your liking.

He’s leaning his body weight on his palms, legs drawn wide against your flooring, his brown boots taking up a considerable amount of space on the fluffy carpeting, the caked up outsoles sure to leave a streak of mud on the white fuzz.

“Quiet now doll, don’t want ya wakin’ anyone up.” He mutters slyly, adjusting himself on the mattress, placing a finger over his lips.

You stare in shock, unable to wrap your head around why he’s here—or how he even got here, let alone why he’s the one ordering you around in your house on your bed.

“Y-you need to leave, this isn’t a good time.” You reply shakily, your body language rigid, crossing your arms over your waist, suddenly feeling exposed in your skimpy towel.

“Thinkin’ it is a good time,” he instantly retorts, his arm brushing the side of your nightstand, fingertips finding solace around the pink alarm clock, gripping the plastic. “But it is getting pretty late, especially to be takin’ phone calls at this hour.”

The alarm looks minuscule compared to his large, tanned fist, swallowing the remnants of toothpaste down your throat, you try to ignore the way his large calloused knuckles make you feel, gazing at the veins in his hand tensing.

“J-Joel, I-what are you doing here?” You whisper, locking the door knob beside you, praying your father can’t hear your argument with the older Miller, knowing him—he’s not leaving anytime soon.

He was finally ready to face you—never bothering talking to you the rest of that night after Tommy drove the three of you back from the gas station, you wondered when he’d show his face around you again. Especially after he begrudgingly forced your wobbling legs back up on his lap in the truck, his body language much more relaxed as he gripped the fat of your thighs, the two of you reveling in the moment when you could finally feel his cum beginning to drip into your panties and onto his thigh, your combined fluids leaving a sticky spot against the denim.

It was your little, short lived secret—an odd and uncertain bond you formed only with him; you truthfully believed it wouldn’t go anywhere, despite how he made you feel.

You wondered when he’d show up again, catching him always staring at you from a distance like a wolf preying on a sheep watching its every slight movement in the pasture—yet this time it was around the neighborhood, catching him wide eyed and silent staring daggers into the side of your head as you’d walk around the block, or lay out in the backyard.

This was the last thing you expected from him, but maybe that’s why he snuck in like this, forcing you to face him in the tight combines of your bedroom.

He looks comedically out of place sitting on your frilly sheets, his saw dust covered jeans flaking off into the pink ruffles. His presence in your room alone is already such a glaring contrast to your soft decorations, his grey shirt looking dull against the baby pink walls you’ve never bothered to repaint as you transitioned into adulthood.

“Ain’t a good idea to leave your windows open sweet pea, never know who’s watching ya.” Joel chides, ticking the brim of his hat over to the opened window.

He stares admirably at your shocked expression, watching the gears in your brain begin to shift into place, realizing how he even got in here in the first place, the breeze blowing your free-flowing locks of hair.

His blatant disregard for your boundaries makes your heart begin to rapidly pound in your ears, the sound echoing much similar to rainfall connecting to a branch during the spring, the water gliding down from the leaves fusing together into fat droplets that fall on the dirt.

“You’re sick! My dads down stairs, all I have to do is yell and he’ll come up here.” You threaten, yet it doesn’t come out as a warning, more like a plea—as if you're begging him to leave because he needs too, not because you want him gone.

Your eyes flit around the room, wide pupils half-hazardly ping ponging around your now violated humble space, attempting to pay attention to anything except the man on your bed.

“Now I ain’t scared of your old man…and I know you don’t want that.” He coos, his face turning into a cocky grin.

He extends his legs out fully, giving you no chance to cower in the corner, your only options now are either facing him or running out your bedroom door, risking getting caught with him—the idea making your teeth clench down, your bite so tight it burns your jaw.

“I do want that.” You retort, throwing your hands to your sides, fingers brushing your towel around your body like a dress.

Joel’s staring at you only makes you grow increasingly frustrated, continuing your rant in a huff. “You really need to leave, w-we can talk about this another time-not tonight.” Your breathing is uneven as you stutter out your defense, but the way Joel’s expression doesn’t falter once at your demands—you know he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

He has you right where he wants you, your resolve slowly dwindling away each second, your fingers picking at the threads of your towel, the thin fabric hugging the curve of your waist, the scratchy cloth traveling down to the fat of your thighs inches away from your cunt—the one thing you know he desires.

“Now I didn’t climb all the way up here for nothin’, how about you come over here and let me spend some time with my girl.” He gestures, fingers touching the loose hem of your towel.

His girl.

The name makes you feel funny, belly swirling, cheeks flushed. No one’s ever bothered to call you that before, truthfully—no one has ever claimed you quiet like this, let alone wanted you so openly they’d crawl through an open window for a chance to talk to you.

His movements are abrupt. Intentional. The dried cracks of his fingernails scratch your soft skin, just enough to send a stabbing jolt of electricity through your body, searing its twisted way between the sweltering valley of your thighs.

“I don’t think this is a good idea Joel.”

“Sure it is sugar, thinkin’ you’re just thrown off ‘n scared.”

Only Joel could make the cool winter breeze gusting into your bedroom feel boiling hot on your skin, the effect he has on you eminent.

Sighing out loud, you shrug your shoulders, looking him in the eye. “You confuse me.”

“Then lemme help clear up that mind of yours.” He retorts in a way you can’t throw a rebuttal at, his hand grabbing your own. “Come here.”

You felt deranged, the kind of feeling you haven’t felt since you were a teenager losing your virginity for the first time. Excitement pools its way through you, down to your toes, beginning to shift your way over to him, squeezing your knees between his open legs, awkwardly obliging his request.

Shame and embarrassment bubble deep in your belly as you drag your feet behind you, letting your toes spread around the carpet until you're standing inches away from him.

His hand still remains on your own, rubbing small circles into the bone that connects your thumb to the flesh. His hands are soft, gentle. Much gentler than the time spent with him in the nasty gas station bathroom, his touch far more intentional.

“There she is.”

He smells like all the other guys in town, tobacco and musk; the kind of smell that makes you gag, but on him it makes your mouth dampen. The aroma sends you into a Joel-filled trance as you inch your way closer to him, like glue on paper—you press firmly against him, fully lining your body up to his thighs.

“Been thinkin’ of what to say to ya, but I’ve never been too good at that.” He sighs, leaning his head into you.

His moments make you jump, head brushing its way to the side of your neck, pressing himself even closer to your body, your lotioned skin making a squishing noise as his cheek hits your shoulder.

“Always smell so sweet, bet you taste like candy.” He growls, voice vibrating through your body like a kettle screaming.

He can practically taste your skin. The sugary powder scent so addictive he can’t help but breathe you in, taking a deep inhale in the crest of your shoulder, his fingers finding the edge of the towel, slipping his fingers into the sharp corner you tucked underneath your armpit.

“Can I take this off?” He mutters, dipping two fingers under the fold, his eyes finding yours already looking down at him.

The years of working outside in the boiling rays of the sun have been surprisingly gentle on him, the crinkles around his eyes appearing far softer up close as you run your hand up his cheek, the scratchy follicles of his beard biting your fingertips.

Your hands find the brim of his hat, effortlessly flicking it off his head, letting it tumble off his back and onto the ground—you want to see him, his blown out pupils making it hard to resist his questioning.

“Okay.”

By the time your words slip from your jaw, he softly rips the garment open, the towel flowing down to the floor with a thump, revealing your body to his prying eyes.

Your nipples harden at the sudden exposure to the cool breeze nipping at your flesh, goosebumps erupting on the skin of your breasts. You go to cover yourself, elbows raising over your torso—but Joel’s hands come up to your own, forcing your palms back down to your side.

“Don’t be hiding from me now darlin’. This right here’s what I came to see” He praises, unable to contain his excitement, a slight drawl to his voice.

The blatant display of your naked body is a hard pill to swallow—even though he’s already seen what the sacred spot between your legs looks like, it’s hard to get used to a man like him staring eye level at your bare cunt.

“So pretty darlin’. Prettiest girl in all of Austin, maybe even Texas itself.”

You know he means it; his awkward way of complimenting you, but you can’t help the doubt that seeps through your bones, the room instantaneously feeling glacial on your blooming tummy, limbs beginning to shiver.

“Feels like you're teasing me.” Mumbling under your breath, you look down at your toes, the painted hues prickling around the carpet, his dirty boots beside them.

You shimmy out of his grasp, fully committing to hiding your body from his prying eyes, cold hands resting under your armpits, the action pressing your breasts together in a thick line of cleavage.

“Ain’t teasing you yet, you’ll know when.” He laughs, a small huff of breath releasing under his nose at your insecurities.

You look so pretty like this—it’s not an opinion, it’s a fact. He knows anyone would fall over dead to see you in this position, pouting lips and perked nipples, it’s ridiculous—yet it gives him an advantage over you, one he devilishly enjoys.

“Always so soft honey, looking real nice tonight.” He maunders, bringing a large hand to your waist, his fingers stopping against the slope of your elbow. “Now move out the way so I can see ya, don’t want to waste any more time.”

You shudder as your arms drop to the sides of your thighs, your nipples eye level to his browbone, the skin furrowed into a stern look as he stares through your breasts and into your soul.

“You make me nervous.” The admission falls aimlessly. He does make you nervous—it’s hard to read him, never knowing what side of him will reveal itself each time the big hand on the clock ticks, always bracing for the worst.

“Well that ain’t right is it?” He mutters, his hand falling flush to the curve of your back, pulling you into him.

You gasp as his face lands between your breasts, his nose nuzzling the supple skin. His lips scratch the soft surface, not kissing or licking; he simply feels around the area, as if he’s getting used to your naked body in a much different manner than before, finally having the time to savor you.

His hand drags down, falling off the curve of your spine, placing his hand onto his lap, palming his hard cock swollen in the fabric of his jeans. Pressing his fingers into the shaft, he growls into your flesh, his voice vibrating your ribcage. “Don’t ever have ta’ be nervous. Not with me sugar.”

His poking and prodding at your naked frame makes you grow antsy, wondering what he’s planning on doing to you tonight, the blood slowly rushing to his cock as you gaze at it, the girthy size filling rapidly in his jeans.

“These thighs,” he ticks, head falling to your hip bone. “Spread ‘em for me.”

The delicate touch suddenly dissipates, his chin pushing into the bone as he brings large hands up to your thighs, gripping the flesh in his palms.

“W-what?” You question, eyes wide as coins as you stare down at him, the vigorous exposure is something you're not quite used to in such an intimate way, a man inches away from your naked cunt.

“I said, spread these.” He repeats, fingers searing into the sides of your thighs, forcing your cunt to spread wide for him.

His fingers make five little indents into the flesh, molding the fat like dough, your lips repeatedly slapping together, mushing your slick around your clit.

You swallow the lump in your throat, anxiety forcing its weary head back into your chest with shaky muscles and even wobbly legs—you step around his boots, placing the balls of your feet on the outsides of his legs.

Your pussy opens fully, sticky lips prying wide in the quiet air of your bedroom. Closing your eyes, you suck in a harsh breath, awaiting his touch.

“Good Lord baby, ‘s real nice seeing ‘er up close, it’s been too damn long.” He mutters, his dominant hand shifting to the front of your thigh, petting the soft skin.

He’s leaned over now, his nose practically resting on your belly button, his eyes locked to the soaked lips of your puffy pussy.

His fingers ghost your mound, his touch so delicate against the skin he’s barely even touching it—the dull sensation causes your eyes to flutter open to catch him gawking.

“She’s real pretty too. Soft.” He whispers, placing a kiss to the squishy spot below your navel. “Who’d you shave for?”

“N-No one?” You stutter, his sudden questioning taking you aback.

Joel was accusing you of sleeping around, fucking someone else other than him. It wasn’t like you had a chance anyways; always finding him out in the yard, mowing the already trimmed grass, or when you’d occasionally catch him looking at you in the glass windows at night. He didn’t get you the opportunity to see other men, let alone fuck one, Joel’s image always on the back of your mind.

“Mmm, not for no other boys right? ‘Cus if ya did, I’d be scaring ‘em all off from ya, can’t compete with what’s already mine.”

His confirmed jealousy catches you off guard, the one thing he's somehow able to communicate with you, your legs stumbling backwards in shock.

“I’m not yours. Never even talk to me unless you want something.” You grumble, cheeks puffing.

You can’t help but glower at the man, all secrets suddenly feeling comfortable enough to expose in the thick atmosphere around your pink sheets, the world shrinking down into just the two of you left behind.

“Poor you. ‘s a good thing you look so pretty poutin’ for me.” He preens, fingertips grazing the apex of your thigh.

There’s a teasing tone in his voice, like you're a child telling her dad about a new toy he doesn’t care about, he isn’t listening to you—or taking you seriously.

“I’m serious.” You huff, fluttering your eyelashes at him and back down to the floor, pushing his teasing hand away from your mound.

“Well in that case. How about I start stoppin’ by more, keep that window cracked for me—hell, your daddy would let me inside if I asked, he likes me.” Talking mindlessly, his hand returns back to your thigh, his fingertips grazing your knee.

He continues speaking, his hand traveling back up to your cunt, this time inching closer and closer to your lips. “But if he knew what I was about to do to ya, I don’t think he would anymore.”

His knuckles hitch right against your slick, feeling the wetness coating his digits. He lets them linger there—watching you stammer over your words, attempting to speak.

“It-It’s not funny.” You shake out, legs wobbling. “You can’t just walk in here and touch me without asking.”

“Well I did, and you’re standin’ here letting me aren’t ya?”

You don’t say anything, your mind going fuzzy at his barely there touch, your cunt leaking slick down to his hand.

“Give up sweet pea, you’re gettin’ off to this ain’t you?”He laughs at you, your blown out state showcasing you your features is so blankly obvious, you’ve fallen into his cock fueled trap.

Clenching around nothing, your knees buckle towards the ground, forcing Joel's fingers snug against your cunt. “N-No! ‘m not!” You cry out, rolling your hips on his hand, forcing any sense of contact to your aching clit.

“You’re making a god damn mess babydoll, can feel it and I haven’t even touched you proper.” He growls at you, pulling his hand away from your pussy.

His fingers are taught underneath you, lining them up to cup your mound, he extends his hand backward, laying a firm slap to your cunt, his tortuous moments burning your overly sensitive clit.

“Joel!” You squeal, shaking like a leaf.

He ignores your pleas, sliding his fingers up your slit, collecting the rumination of slick you’ve been leaking since he stumbled in here, the wetness easily soaking his digits. He slips his middle finger underneath your cunt, prodding it to your entrance, letting his dry cuticles scrape the delicate skin.

His fingers get a good tour of your slit, playing with your clenching hole before he slides them up to your throbbing bud, rubbing a gentle circle against the nub, he slides back down to your entrance. He swirls his fingers around the hole, letting the slick bubble and pop around the ridges of your opening.

“What a fucking whore—‘you’re sick’,” he mocks from earlier, pitching his voice in a whiny rattle similar to yours, “sugar you’re just about as sick as I am.”

You already feel breathless, the dull sensation against your incredibly sensitive hole makes your body give out, learning further into his touch, forcing his fingers to hitch inside of you.

He brings his free hand down to the large protrusion in his jeans, flicking the button wide open, he jams the zipper down, releasing the tension on his choking cock.

It irritates you, your greedy pussy is desperate for stimulation—there’s no chance in hell you’re letting his hand go any further in his pants.

“Do somethin’, you’re not being nice.” You're begging now, rocking your hips like a bitch in heat, forcing his fingers to sink inside of your tight walls but his large digits can’t fit quite yet, the tightness only able to suck his pointer finger inside of you.

“You don’t like me nice.” He angrily barks, forcing his middle finger inside of you, stretching you wide.

The touch short circuits your brain, replacing any source of backtalk with a whine, your body jerking away from him. His skilled figures expertly swirl around your gushing cunt, feeling the ridges of your velvety walls, letting his fingers stretch you wide.

“S-Shut up ‘n make me feel good.” You manage to breathe out, trying to hold back your moans, small gasps of breath slipping out of your open mouth.

His fingers already feel so good between your thighs, yet you can’t help your attempt to get the last word in, toying around with dominance—although you know he’s the one in charge.

“Relax sugar, gonna take my time with ya, stretch this pretty little pussy out.”

Watching you in awe, Joel’s amused at your little show of him—he likes your disgusted attitude you use with him, the jarring juxtaposition between your twisted up face of disgust forget to transfer to your body, your cunt so soaked it sucks his fingers deeper and deeper inside of your body, the sight only making his dick harder and harder by the second.

He begins to scissor his fingers in and out of your cunt, forcing your walls to fit his thick digits, knuckles hitting your spongey g-spot so right, the wetness filling the room.

“Bet your daddy can hear how wet you are from the couch, shit ‘s probably echoing down the damn stairs.” He curses, eyes staring at your frame, watching how your stomach begins to stutter, learning how his pleasure affects your body.

“Joel!” You squeak, unable to hide the excitement in your voice, the stimulation of his fingers finally subduing the pain of your throbbing cunt.

“So tight baby, glad no one else has stretched ya out. Doing a good job keeping her tight for me.”

Joel makes you feel nauseous at the sickening sentiment, but his words hold truth within them—you secretly hoped he’d be by to see you again sometime soon, you just didn’t think it would be in this way.

You want to retort, attempt to give him any kind of response, but his fingers feel so wide in your cunt, the rolling motion of his knuckles making you clamp down on the digits, your orgasm already approaching.

“You like that? Can feel you chokin’ my fingers with this pretty little pussy, bet it feels even better on my dick.”

“Feels so good,” you sigh, biting your plush lip between your teeth, squinting your eyes shut. “But y-you’d feel even bigger.”

Leaning your body weight onto him, his palm inadvertently places itself right against your clit, the squishy skin rubbing into your swollen nub, the dual pleasure making your toes curl.

“Yeah? Stuff ya so tight you’ll be crying, gonna feel real full tonight.”

You look down to his jeans, his cock tensing so strongly through the light denim the tip effortlessly spits globs of precum into the fabric. Your hand craves to feel him twist in your palm as he did your cunt—the way it bruised your insides as he split you in half over the sink, his tip brushing your cervix with each thrust.

Your open mouth lets out a large whine, your fingers gripping the flesh of his forearms. “I’m close,” you cry out, your clit becoming sensitive from the aggressive rubbing of his palm, the rolling effortlessly matching the prying motions of his chubby fingers.

“I know,” he urges, his fingers suddenly halting their pace, “but I wanna feel you cum on my cock, not my fingers.”

He doesn’t give you any time to beg him for your release, confusing settling over your features. He pries his fingers out of your tight hole, the wetness squelching around nothing.

Your mind is almost as empty as your cunt is, the need to finally come face to face with his dick overriding your senses, your limbs reaching out for his jeans.

“T-Take it out. Your cock. Wanna see it up close.” You shiver, your hands snaking between the material of his boxers, swiping your fingertips underneath the thick waistband, gripping his dick with both hands.

“Fuck-k!” He curses, the feeling of your small hand pressing against his cock making his hips jerk in the air, his dick practically chasing you as if it’s mesmerized by your grip.

“Feels so big, can’t believe it fit inside of me.” You mewl, swirling your dominant hand over his tip, maneuvering his shaft out of the fabric.

His hands are quick on his jeans, pulling the material down by the empty belt loops the rest of the way. He lets them pool at his ankles, the material bunching and wrinkling at his boots.

“You keep talkin’ like that and I ain’t gonna be able to fuck ya right.”

Sighing, you watch as he kicks off his boots, letting the fabric swallow the brown leather as it tumbles off his body, leaving his heavy cock laying against his belly, the tip drenched in precum.

You’ve almost pushed Joel past his limits, your manicured hand lazily stroking his cock begins to drive him mad, the wide gaze in your eyes staring at him with one of pure seduction and adoration. It takes everything out of him to not grip your waist and throw you on the bed, his cock ready to fuck you until your screaming.

“Maybe I don’t want that, would rather just stroke you instead.”

It’s obvious your pushing him, trying to force the mean beast back out of him that he’s been failing to keep concealed tonight, readily awaiting it’s arrival to rip you in half, fuck you just how you like it, but your good at keeping him on his toes—feeling each stroke of your hand travel all the way down to his balls.

“That’s enough.”

He’s giving you a warning, one final veiled hint before he wrecks you, but the way your hand squeezes down against his tip at his words, he knows exactly what you want, your devious work on his cock not faltering.

“Bet you’d feel heavy on my tongue." You push again, and before you know it Joel is on you, fingertips bruising your hips as he tosses you on the mattress, the boxsprings snapping at the sudden weight.

You're unsure how you end up on your belly so suddenly, sweaty face plastered on your pillows and cheeks tightly smushed into the cotton with Joel on top of you.

“I told ya to watch that mouth,” he sighs, leaning his belly into your spine, the buttons of his shirt cold as they press against your bare skin.

“Couldn’t help it.” You squirm, wiggling around in his grasp.

“Sure you could doll, you just wanted to see me riled up didn’t ya? Wanted me to press ya into the mattress and fuck you ‘til your screaming.”

His words only make your aching cunt even slicker, the wetness spread around between your legs quickly making a mess of your sheets, the fluffy duvet starting smelling like you—sweet and tangy.

You didn’t realize how much you missed this—missed him. A dirty man with a nasty attitude, the one thing that makes you feel free from your spiffy lifestyle, his touch forcing your skin to buzz with the feeling of being alive.

“Been teasing me for too long,” you whimper, shaking your ass against his cock, feeling the shaft fit between your crack.

He’s so snug behind you, his squishy tip searing against your flesh, the dribbles of precum painting the round globes of your ass, you try your best to angle him to your entrance but it’s no use—his body too close to yours to move.

“Yeah? Then maybe you should go find someone else to fuck you, get some little frat boy to blow his load inside of you.”

There it is—again. His greedy jealousy showing itself even though he has you shaking like a tumbleweed underneath him, your cunt screaming and crying for him to put it in its place.

“I-I don’t s-sleep around.” You breathe out, twisting your head around to look at him lifting off your body, pumping his cock in his hand.

“Shouldn’t be fuckin’ around with a man like me anyways, maybe I should just leave ya here and leave back out that window.”

“No! Please stay, I need you Joel.” Theres no shot he’s gonna walk off and leave you, but it feels good to pretend, practically on your hands and knees begging him now, your body already in the perfect position for him to slip into your hole, arching your hips up to the ceiling, your puffy lips spread open for him.

“Yeah? What do you need me for?” He pushes, inching his knees closer to your thighs, angling his tip to your entrance.

“Need you to fuck me! Touch me, do anything!” You’re screaming now, so loud you're sure your father could hear your voice bleeding down the stairs, yet you couldn’t care less, fully surrendered to Joel's commands.

You squirm as he slowly unbuttons his shirt, revealing his toned hairy torso to your blind eyes, too focused staring at the edge of your headboard, impatiently waiting for him to do something.

Joel chuckles, leaning down onto your back again, the weight of him pressing your belly so deep into the mattress you can barely breathe, his cock slapping your thigh.

He leans on an elbow, bicep flexing against the side of your head, bringing his freehand to your cheek, gripping the squishy flesh roughly in his fingertips “Look at you, begging for my cock and asking for it so nicely, how could I say no to this face.”

Before you can respond, Joel’s cock shuts you up, pressing his tip into the entrance. He begins to slowly sink his way into your wet cunt, burying himself inch by inch until his balls press against your clit.

It’s the same feeling in your walls that you remembered all this time apart, his thick cock stretching you so wide he practically sears himself into the ripples of your heat, taking it slow so he can feel you stretch around him, stilling his movements.

“Joel-fuck!” The noise he rips from your throat would scare even a lion, your throat grumbling from the pillow swallowing your face, releasing a feverish growl into the fabric.

“Ah shit! Greedy little pussy ‘s why I love ya so much.”

You grumble in confusion, your cunt clamping down on his cock, “you don’t love me, you barely know me.”

“Maybe I do.” He snaps his hips back.

“Maybe I don’t.” He grunts, flexing his thighs back into your cunt, each pause between his words he forced his hips back and forth, his strength knocking your ass deep into the mattress, your lungs choking for air.

“But I damn sure know a lot about you, lot more than you’re thinkin’.”

He shouldn’t know a lot about you, he barely even talks to you—but you’re so cock drunk you can’t read into what he means by that, fingers gripping the corners of your pillow case as you let the pleasure consume you, his cock pummeling into your g-spot.

You’re already so sensitive from his earlier job with his fingers, his cock doesn’t need to do too much work to get your body tingling again, his squishy red tip pressing into you with precision.

“Oh my God Joel!” You scream, throwing your face into the same pillow you're gripping, attempting to stifle your voice but it’s no use, the fluffy material buzzing lively with your words.

He can’t help but stare down at your shoulder blades with his brown irises, watching how your bones and muscles shake in ecstasy—all for him, your smooth skin clinging to his hairy chest.

“So big Joel, f-feels so good! ‘s too much!” You wail, the sheer size of him beginning to burn your slit at the angle, his cock burning crimson at your tight hole.

“You took it last time like a big girl didn’t you? Just breathe ‘n let me take care of ya.”

This is what he’s been dreaming about this whole time, corrupting your sweet innocence into his personal little sex doll, your body responding to every sense of stimuli he gives it. He can feel you thrashing underneath him, the pain quickly subduing into white-hot pleasure, his shaft petting your g-spot with such aggression it consumes you fully.

“Next time I fuck you, I’ll make sure to look at this pretty little face,” he grunts, gripping your chin to the side, fingers tapping your cheek. “But right now, I get ta’ use this little pussy, feel it cum on my cock.

The aggressive tone he’s using with you only makes you grow more urgent, squeezing your tearful eyes shut, you savor the feeling of his cock against your ridged walls, the repetitive motions rocking into you.

“Gimmie a kiss.” He bites out, fingers still pressing into your cheek, forcing your mouth into a pout.

“You never kiss me.” You mutter through his bruising grip, smelling you on his fingerprints. “N-Never pay attention to me unless you want something from m-me.”

You don’t know where the babbling admissions come from, chalking it up to the intimate position he has you in, his body so tight against you, your breathing becomes shallow, words stuttering and faltering out your mouth like a failing car motor.

“Oh baby, if y’only knew.” He muses, leaning into you, his nose finding the side of your cheek, approaching your mouth for a kiss.

You turn your head halfway to meet his lips, instantly tasting the remnants of chewing tobacco on his breath. His lips are softer than you imagined, slowly pecking your flesh, tasting your strawberry chapstick, growling at the taste.

“Even your lips taste like fucking candy doll, sweetest I ever did taste.”

It’s almost juvenile, everything about you is so sugary—from your lips to your white painted toes, the thick vanilla lotion that covers your ankles, and all the way inside of you, it makes his teeth ache, your presence similar to a cavity, painfully sweet.

“Mhm, Smuckers.” You murmur between kisses, thinking back to your vanity drawer, the wide variety of flavors you secretly match to your outfits, a childish routine you never grew out of.

Joel stops responding, letting his cock do all the talking. He begins to set a firm pace, hips brutally bucking into yours, his thighs forcing your legs together tightly, his balls slapping your clit.

“Look so damn pretty gettin’ fucked real deep, better tell all your friends who’s pussy this is.”

He’s crazy to think you’d let anyone know about this little arrangement with him, selfishly prepared to have him fuck you like this forever, you’d be a fool to let him and his skilled cock go.

“Ahh shit! ‘s yours Joel!” You cry out, lower abdomen swirling with pleasure, laying limp and pliant for his cock to drive you to your high.

“Good girl, taking it so well, can feel you squeezin’ me with this tight fucking cunt.”

“Need more!” You're unsure exactly what you need, your impending orgasm just minutes away, you scream into the pillow—the case slick with your drool and tears, every single bit of your body leaking from his pleasure.

“Yeah ya do,” he grumbles behind you, snaking a large hand to your clit, his finger rubbing tight circles on the puffy bud.

The band in your belly begins to tighten into a ball of fury, a warm fuzzy feeling beginning to slowly bloom down the sensitive muscles of your thighs, your clit burning with his touch.

“Joel! Joel! Gonna cum!” You wail, fists finding the flimsy material of your sheets, twisting the material in your hands so hard your digits shake.

“Yeah that’s it, I know you wanna cum so bad sugar, how ‘bout you show me ‘n soak my cock.” He commands, rubbing your cunt with vigorous need, his own orgasm beginning to creep up on him from the hours of your unknowing teasing.

“Yes! Fuck right there—right there!” You scream, listening to his words replaying in your mind, his voice overriding any sense of doubt in your body.

Your orgasm instantly snaps through your prickly core, your back arching, ass shaking. You wither around him as the pleasure whips its way through you, your mind and soul floating to the ceiling.

Your cunt clenches down on his cock, your release coating your already gushing cunt to soak him with a fresh wave of slick, each thrust making loud squeaks that ring though your dizzy eardrums.

By the time you start to come down from your high, you begin to hear Joel moaning and groaning behind you, his cock still pumping its way through your tight walls, chasing his own release, your cervix gripping his tip.

“About’a cum in this tight little h-hole, doin’ s-so fuckin’ good for me-shit!” He curses, holding you in place with a painful grip on your thighs, his feverish grip sure to leave bruises on your dimpled flesh.

He rubs his hips against your ass in a rolling motion, a strangled groan pouring out like a rabid dog as his balls tighten, his release spilling in thick spurts.

“Ah-fuck! Stay right here for me baby, gon-gonna st-stuff this pretty p-pussy full!” He grunts out through clenched teeth, not bothering to pull out of you, forcing you to take his cum.

His cock spills his sticky, milky seed deep into your hole, stuffing your body with his special essence, giving you no chance to escape him.

It’s not like you could move from the position he currently has you in, your body cages in by his own heavy sweaty one, his thighs forcing his cock into your pussy like a plug, making sure you don’t waste any valuable seed he has to offer.

“I got ya honey. Thank you.” He mutters, his beard brushing down the curve of your spine, plating small kisses to the supple skin.

“For what?” You wonder, still unable to read him—especially in your fucked out state.

“Lettin’ me in,” He pauses. “For letting me have this, have you.”

Patting your butt, he lazily pries himself off of you, his half-hard cock slipping from your drenched walls with a hiss, the loss of contact suddenly making your womb feel cold.

Joel’s knees crack as he stands up from the sunken mattress, the wooden legs of your bedframe creaking from the weight change, hearing him fumble with his clothing from behind you.

Using your aching muscles deep in your core, you flop yourself around on the bed to lay on your back, crossing your shaking ankles at the feeling of his cum beginning to ooze out of you.

You assume he’s getting ready to leave, force you to pick up the pieces like last time, watching him pull his jeans back up his stocky legs.

“D-Don’t go down the stairs when you leave, you’ll need to leave the same way you came in.”

Your nervousness makes him leer up at you, his mouth curling into a slight smirk. He thinks you’re cute like this, vulnerable and scared of him, he enjoys keeping you on your toes, only able to stare at you and grin.

His staring only makes you huff, continuing on your tangent. “Sometimes my dad falls asleep on the couch, I don’t want him to see you.”

“I know. Could hear him snoring from here.” He sarcastically jokes, turning his back to you with a sigh, sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

He’s being weird, a far different Joel than the one you’ve grown used to, suddenly feeling like the room is swallowing you full, like your forced to talk to him or say goodbye or tell him—

Suddenly he’s moving again, grabbing your ankles to lean against his thighs, your heels touching the freezing wet spot he leaked earlier in his jeans.

You wonder if this is his way of being a gentlemen, his awkward way of soothing you before he leaves, the possibility that he’s trying to not push you away anymore.

“Did…did you mean it?” You ask him, staring up at him with wide eyes.

There’s a lot of things he’s said tonight and if he had to repeat them to save his life—he wouldn’t be able to, a curse of his own mind speaking before he can think.

“Mean what?”

“Before we-we…” you drift off, hands dropping to your belly. “You said you’ll start coming by to see me.”

You’re cute when you’re shy—like always.

“Hey, listen. How about we get you cleaned up and maybe we can talk about going someplace nice together,

“You wanna take me to dinner?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Joel seems to be found of his sharp contradictions tonight, but when it comes to you, he can’t keep his mind on its swivel—always saying whatever comes to mind just to see that confused pouting look on your face.

“Last time you said something about that.” You mumble, thinking back to how nasty he was at the gas station. “Said you wouldn’t ever take me out all because I didn’t tell you how I felt about you.”

Shit—he was pretty mean last time wasn’t he? But he couldn’t help it, not when Tommy almost had you instead, the idea making him shiver.

He sighs, leaning over the edge of the bed, fingers grasping the abandoned towel you were covered in earlier in the evening, bringing it to your inner thighs to clean up his mess.

You hiss as the gritty fibers of the towel scratch at your overtly sensitive cunt, the wiping motions burning your skin.

“Shit, shoulda told ya it was gonna hurt. Sorry doll.” He mutters, finally beginning to answer the question about the future for the two of you. “I wish you did tell me sooner, would’ve been taking you out some place nice every damn weekend if I knew.”

It’s a nice change with him, his causalities seeming far more relaxed and laid back, like he’s not scared of speaking to you anymore—but you don’t wallow on it, choosing to take his words to your heart.

Smiling, you close your eyes, throwing your head back down on the sticky pillows, your cheeks shining with sweat.

“You know now, don’t you?”

⋆.˚ taglist: @chloeee20 @millercontracting @thegirlulike @uncassettodiricordi @millersweetheart @vanishintoyoubby @vickie5446 @pleurspetal @lunarmoonbeam1 @valyrianjoel @naiadglow @hollyseb @bbyanarchist @vamp18e @david-10ninch-blog @joelmillersgirl123 @joseyeeeee @pedrosgirl03 @harriedandharassed @kakiki3 @ptolemaea444 @realultracunt @mysterialee @bratty-spice @furiousprincesskingdom @tearsweetenedtea @sprigsofhazel

╰ i know i definitely missed some people, if you were on the kinkmas taglist and want to be added to permanent one—please let me know!!

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

18+ cunniligus with dex where you can't push him away

fem! reader, mdni. 1.9k words. cw: cunniligus, kinda mean dex, slight overstimulation, general filth

Dex is often comparable to a smitten cat: he hates a closed door. He'll mither and pester and bother, do whatever, except wait patiently on the other side of it. He may act like he's been cruelly depraved of your attention, or shunned by you, but really you've just closed it for a moments privacy.

Sort of like right now. You had not long gotten out the shower, and rather than been seen naked and hunched over drying yourself and applying lotions, you decided to close the door to the bedroom for a quick minute. If you shut it quietly enough, Dex won't notice.

But he does. 

That little click of the hinge makes his ears prickle, and in no time at all, you hear feet scuffle on the other side. A small set of knocks follow and then a light cough — like he was clearing his throat. 

"I need to get my charger."

You smile to yourself. The act coming from a place of slight amusement. It was like routine with Dex, when you close the door, he'll pretend he needs something from the other side — make up some kind of ruse in order for you to open it. 

Making your way to his side of the bed, you look inside his nightstand drawer for the charger that's almost always there, though it isn't. The neatly segregated contents void of the charger he claims he needs to collect. And so you adjust the towel still wrapped around you and sit yourself down at the edge of the bed. You glance to the near empty nightstand and to the door, and it's then you decide to toy with him for a moment.

"I'll pass it to you, one second," you tease. You pretend to search and tap your feet on the floor; remaining in place so as to give the illusion you were actually looking. "It's not in here."

"Well," he sighs, seemingly panicking for an excuse. "It is."

"Where is it?" you question, playfully provoking him. "I'll get it."

"Can I just come in?" he remarks, growing annoyance clear in his tone. "I'll be quick," he adds, voice far softer — like he was prompt to correct himself.

You give him a hum in response, but it doesn't have to be particularly loud for him to hear it. All he needs is the slightest possible confirmation in order to open the door. And like it was an instant invitation, he pushes it open and steps inside. 

He lingers in the door frame for a moment, eyes falling from the exposed expanse of your shoulders and down to your bare legs. His gaze reluctantly pulls away for a quick moment and to the kitchen behind him, the hot pans on the stove reminding him of where his prior attention was. Though he's thankful to have been ahead with forethought, and it's when he finally hears the pans reduce to a quiet, inconsistent sizzle, he steps further into the room.

Your eyes meet his, peered up gaze following his stalk like movements as he grows closer and closer. And it's then that he halts, big broad frame pausing in front of you — intense hazel eyes cast down on you below. You were fine playing with him between a closed door, fine to tease when he didn't face you; but to have him directly ahead of you, watchful gaze locked on you, you no longer felt that same sense to toy with him like you did before.

His eyes lower and focus in on your lap for a moment. And it's then his head tilts aside, like you were supposed to know what it means. 

Though you do and you give him a small nod. Again, it was all he needed. 

He bends at the knee and lowers, movement slow and controlled. He's far closer to the level of your eyes, but still, it feels like he's looking down upon you. Dex places his palms on either of your thighs, hands spread wide as he guides your legs apart — separating you. 

The placement of his thumbs lower on either side of your thighs, the pads itching along the inners of each with faint little circles he draws into your skin. He sits further onto the heels of his feet, and it's then he looks up at you, eyes heavy as they study the growing want in your face. 

His gaze soon diverts from you, though yours remains on him — watching him intently as he dips between your thighs, face turning aside so he can press his lips to the inners of one. Breath hot as his mouth ghosts your skin. The trail of his lips rises higher and higher and in it's place, a litter of kisses are left behind. 

Your head involuntarily falls back, and the rest of you then follows. You adjust and push yourself further up the bed, scooching back so as to kindly make some space for Dex between you. He moves with you, lips remaining in place at the inner of your thigh like his mouth is fused to your skin.

Getting comfortable betwixt your thighs, he rests on his elbows — face subsequently itching in closer to your cunt. He shifts his weight a moment, arms coming up from their placement at the edge of the bed to wrap around you; arms encompassing your lower hips. His fingers paw at the squish of your inner thighs, pads sort of pulsing your skin as he pries your legs further apart.

He's slow and teasing. Like he's making you wait the way you did him a few moments before. But really, he's only taunting himself. 

Nuzzling inwards, he presses a kiss to crease of your inner thigh, and then another and another, though the more that follow, the closer they get to your cunt. And by the fourth, maybe fifth kiss he sears into you, his lips reach the ones of your pussy.

Your stomach shudders as a direct response to his touch and it's when you feel your back lift from the sheets, that your hands shoot down and for his hair. Bending your legs, you lift your feet and place them at the edge of the mattress. You hook them, heels digging into that rimmed cuff as an effort to fix yourself more comfortably.

He presses another kiss to you, but this time, slightly higher than the one before. His lips reach your clit and it's there he resumes a small series of faint, and just as lengthy kisses — each one making your thighs beside his head twitch from the gentle care. His tongue extends outwards and he licks a stripe from the middle of your cunt, to where his lips remain just below the mound of your clit.

And he repeats that — doing so over and over and over until all that coats your cunt is a slight sheen of his spit. Before long, those licks turn into suckles; mouth moving deliberately in one spot, focus honed in on where you're most sensitive. Your clit.

With his grip still encompassed over the uppers of your thighs, he adjusts you within his grasp — angling and tilting your hips so as to better nuzzle his face between. You too reposition; altering the placement of your legs so they can trail down the length of his back, the behinds of your thighs pressing into his shoulders, the heels of your feet hooked at his sides.

It's as if you've inadvertently entrapped him, caged him between your thighs. But he's quick to return the gesture — quick to ensure he's just as trapped as you'd involuntarily made him. 

Dex's hold withdraws from your thighs and instead roams upwards, hands flat, thumbs leading the way as he runs up the sides of you, movement slow and intentional. He pauses when he reaches your tits, and it's then that he cups them; holding each nice and firm as he uses them as a way to anchor himself to you. To keep you exactly as is.

His tongue curls between your folds, the once flat muscle now pointed and deliberate as he pushes it through your pussy's lips — pressure slight, yet apparent as it divides you. While his touch is light, your body processes it as anything but, and as the tip of his tongue knocks up against your clit, you jerk against him. Hips winding and bucking a couple times against his face like you had no control over it.

Your nails rake across his scalp, fingers pushing through his hair just moments before you grab fistfuls on either side. While it was an effort of control on your side, it only encourages him, it simply eggs him on to have you respond in such a distinct and albeit, forceful way. 

But there's only so much direct pleasure you can take, especially when his mouth is so concentrated on your nub of nerves. And when he begins to tweak your nipples between thumb and index, you find yourself eager to scamper from the gratification he brings you. 

The height within you hasn't yet been located, but with every lick and suck and kiss he presses into your cunt, you feel yourself aimlessly creeping closer and closer towards it. Though it begins to teeter into too much and your hips shudder against his tongue as a means to escape from the bottomless pit of pleasure.

He doesn't let you far, not when his grip tightens around you.

"No," he murmurs into you, the word muffled yet firm — voice reverberating against your cunt. "Stay."

But as much as you try, you just can't. You react instinctively, body responding through lack of self-control, and it's in the following moment where you feel yourself reach that edge. 

You feel it harsh and fast. 

Your back curves from the sheets as you cry out, panting out nonsensically as he continues to tongue fuck you through it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you choke out, voice strained. Desperate. 

If you thought it felt too much before, you were surely mistaken; just blatantly erroneous. You make attempts to rid him from you — weakened hands pushing at his head, though it's no use, not when he further secures his grasp around you. 

"Keep still."

"Fuck," you whine. It's just shy of a mewl.

But when you really, seriously, genuinely try to flee, he lets up. He releases your shaking shuddering body and slowly stands, emerging from between your thighs. 

Dex leans over you, hands either side of you for support as he lowers atop, face itching in for yours. 

"Dinner's in fifteen," he hums against your lips, the taste of you on his tongue slight.

Even with his mouth ghosting yours, he neglects to press a kiss. Instead he pushes himself away from your bare body below and stands over you. His eyes trail over you a moment before he covers you with the towel that had fallen open from those ten-some minutes of tongue fucking. 

His absence grows larger, and as he heads for the door, he pauses — turning slightly to look back at you. Features stern, sort of like a warning. 

He taps at the door, head tilting so as to firm his expression.

"This stays open."

⎯ ☆ ⎯

I had this vision right, and it was POISONING my mind!!!!! so had to get it out

[hauntedinkk]

thinking about calling husband joel daddy for the first time.

he’s deep inside of you, fucking into you missionary style, your legs tightly wrapped around his hips as his cock constantly strokes that sensitive spot inside of you.

You’re whining, writhing on the bed beneath him, soft sobs breaking through you with every overwhelming thrust. It just feels so fucking good. How is he so perfect at this?

His face is settled into the crook of your neck, his voice a distant rumble in your ear as he talks you through each movement of his cock. His back is slick with sweat, his biceps large and thick either side of your head. And the word just.. slips out.

“Oh, daddy,” you whine, your voice raw and broken when his pubic bone ruts against your clit just right.

Joel pauses. Stills inside of you. And you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that. You didn’t even know whether he was into it or not. You straighten beneath him so his face is out of your neck, your eyes alarmed and face heated in embarrassment. “I’m sorry I— I don’t know why I said that.”

But the look on his face..

You couldn’t tell whether he loved it or whether he was disgusted with you. His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, and you could have sworn you felt his cock twitch within you.

“Daddy, huh?” He asks, his face unreadable. His tone was testing. Like as if he were unsure whether you were serious or not.

Your heart rate picks up, your stomach twisting in anticipation to what he would do. You nod silently, your face still burning and hot to the touch.

Joel rocks his hips forward, angling his cock to drive right into your g-spot. God, he was so fucking good at that. You head tips back as an involuntary moan comes tumbling from your lips at the sensation.

“You want me to be your daddy, angel?” He asks you, his brow starting to bead with sweat. And then, all of a sudden, he has your legs pushed against your chest. The positioning is slightly uncomfortable, but the sensation? God, he felt incredible from this angle. That thick, heavy cock dragging through your most sensitive parts as he fucked you slow and deep.

Your eyes roll back, your mouth working before your brain. “Yes. Yes, Daddy.” You whimper breathlessly. The sound of that word on your lips again has joel groaning low in his throat, his eyes conflicted between looking down at your beautiful pussy or looking up at your gorgeous face.

“Good girl, that’s it,” he praises, leaning down to claim your lips with his own mouth. “Daddy’s here.” He mumbles against them.

[ckyforever]

•There's A Blue Light •

Joel Miller x fem!reader oneshot

COMING SOON!

Summary: Ever since you were young, you were always taught to be good, and good you were. Church girl, smiling neighbor, the star daughter. Perfect.

Until you find yourself seeking the town outcast, Joel Miller.

Rating: 18+ mdni!!!

wc: tbd

warnings: girthy age gap (20/56), obsession, religious upbringing + religious guilt, small town, loss of virginity, unprotected piv, oral sex (m & f recieving), mentions of contraception, secret meetups, sarah is dead, mention of fatal car crash, reader has anxiety, dominant behavior, toxic dynamic, joel feeds you beer so (illegal drinking), physical roughness, power imbalance, angst, joel is an ass

FULL FIC COMING SOON!! IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO A TAGLIST, LMK!

Snippet below!!!

“Gon’ let me show you, sweet thing?” He whispers against your cheek, leaning forward to bring you both back to the ground. Big hands cradle the back of your head, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes.

On impulse, you want to look away, but his eyes make it impossible. Big and brown, pupils blown to astronomical proportions.

“What do- what do you wanna show me?”

“Want me to kiss you, down ther’?” He emphasizes his question with his brows while moving a hand to rest on your public bone. Heat blooms across your stomach and thighs at the mere touch. New and inviting, you never knew a man could make you feel like this.

“Yes, please...” You squeak out, placing a feather-like kiss on his pulsing temple.

Joel shoulders tense, just a touch, before softening again. He clears his throat, eyes darting to the cross that sits between your breasts, glinting in the sun. You follow his eyes, cheeks flushing as you realize. The ultimate sin.

Joel knows.

He takes the clasp from around your neck, unhooking the dainty chain, before chucking the sterling silver towards the trees, disappearing amongst the tall grass. Tears well in your eyes as you consider his action. They weren't tears of sadness, but tears of relief at the burden that was placed at you at such a young age being lifted off your shoulders. You realize something that kills you.

You didn’t have to be a good girl when Joel was around.

“It’s okay, sweet thing.”

[rainy-day-gracie]

lay me down tonight

joel miller x babysitter!reader

c/w: smut of course who do you take me for (unprotected rough sex, oral (m!recieving), face fucking, D/s dynamics, discussions of consent because consent is sexy MANDATORY, discussion of safewords, light choking, light anal play, dirty talk, praise kink, sexy pet names, probably more tbh), discussion of anxiety, pre-established relationship, imbalance of power (babysitter x employer), fluffy aftercare!!

it's joel miller x babysitter!reader again!! chronologically in this series, this is the first exchange of power they have in their sexual relationship, so no need to read the first few parts if you don't want to (although they are sexy as hell)

catch up on the other chapters here!

---

By the time Joel got home, only the soft lighting of a table lamp illuminated the quiet house, Sarah having long gone to bed.

He looked for you on the sofa, your usual spot, the moment he came through the front door.

Nothing. A red flag waved in Joel's head, and then he caught sight of the kitchen.

That's where he found you. Hunched over the kitchen table, pouring over a bulky textbook labeled with long scientific words he couldn't hope to pronounce. The only light in the home came from a warm table lamp, illuminating you in a soft gold.

He recognized the tightness in your shoulders, a heaviness that weighed on your frame. You didn't even glance at him as he shut the front door, locked on whatever that textbook was telling you. The red flag waved again.

"Doin' alright, honey?" he called, kicking off his boots and pulling off his wet rain jacket at the front door.

It took a moment for you to answer, a beat of silence filled only by downpour of rain sweeping over the house.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you replied. God, even your voice was different, laden with a wistfulness he'd never heard come from you before.

He moved closer, until he stood at your shoulder. Softly, he tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

You keened into the touch, a shallow breath parting your lips as he grazed a fingertip against your cheek.

"Look at me, baby," Joel breathed, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

You obeyed immediately, and Joel could've sworn your tight shoulders loosened a little as you tilted your head up to him.

As he'd suspected, shadows sunk below your beautiful eyes, the curve of your lips bitten from anxious tics.

"I know somethin' is wrong," he said, his fingers tracing the curve of your ear. "What is it?"

You stiffened, pulling away from his touch and looking back towards the damn textbook. "Nothing, it's nothing. I just need to finish this chapter, then we can fuck-"

Your name escaped his lips in a manner he didn't recognize. Dark, and deep. Commanding.

He nearly apologized, until he noticed how you turned to face him again, shoulders loosening a bit more.

Your eyes looked so wide, and needy. Like you were desperate to hear you name fall from his lips again. Craving it.

"Tell me what's wrong." Joel kept the same tone as before, and cocked his head to peer at you more closely.

You clenched your jaw, and when you spoke, it was timid, and shy. Unlike you.

“Been spiraling, recently. Work and school and friends and babysitting... it all gets... loud."

Your eyes filled with tears, but you seemed to relax into the chair a bit as you spoke.

"What else, baby?"

You swallowed, and a solitary tear fell down your cheek. Neither of you moved to wipe it away. "I’m constantly thinking about what I’ve done wrong, what I could do wrong, how I can do better, what I should have done better, on and on and on and… I just need it to quiet. I just… I need to stop thinking so much."

Joel peered at you, bringing his hand to your face gently, wiping the stray tear from your cheekbone. “I can make it quiet."

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat. “You can?”

Joel nodded, his hand migrating downward, until he held the crook of your jaw. "How do you want me to make it quiet, honey?” he whispered, studying your parted lips, your widened eyes, the slight heat he felt on your cheeks.

"I... I want to do exactly as I'm told. I want..."

Joel pressed his thumb lightly into your pulse point. Your lips parted a bit more, giving away your neediness for him. "You want me to think for you for a bit? Empty that pretty little head of yours?"

Your heartbeat quickened under his hand. "Yes, yes."

A beat passed. Joel titled his head. “What's your safeword?”

You didn’t even blink. “Spiraling.”

“Good girl.” Your eyelashes fluttered at the name. “Anything you need, to slow down, to stop, to pause, say spiraling. I won’t stop unless you use your safeword, understood? If you can't speak, pinch me twice, and don't be gentle about it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Oh, that was new. It sent blood rushing to Joel's cock.

He leaned down, giving you a faint kiss on the lips, before letting go.

A slight whimper escaped you as he moved away, sitting in the kitchen chair opposite you.

He smirked at your confused expression, having no doubt you were dripping in your shorts.

He kept that same commanding tone from before. "Get on your knees."

---

Joel's eyes darkened as he peered at you, sending shivers down your spine. God, he hadn't even touched you, yet your cunt was beating with every thrum of your heart.

His voice was that same rough grit as before when he spoke again. "Get on your knees."

That one order, so simple, so direct, cut any anxious noise down to size in an instant. You obeyed without hesitation, driven by an innate desire to do exact as you were told.

You knelt between his spread legs instantly, licking your lips as you held his burning gaze.

He cocked his head, studying your expression. "Right now, baby, you ain't gotta be nothin' but a mouth. How does that sound?"

A shudder trembled through you, a soft moan leaving your lips. "That sounds... perfect."

Joel smiled lightly, such an odd expression when combined with dark, lusting eyes. "Well, take it out then. I don't wanna hear a peep from you, unless it's gaggin' or your safeword, got it?"

You opened your mouth to answer, then closed it. Nodded instead. Joel huffed a laugh at your obedience to the letter.

Your fingertips fumbled with his fly, desperately pulling down the denim, then the boxers. A groan escaped Joel's mouth as you put your mouth on him, small licks up his hardening base.

"So sweet, baby," he drawled, his eyes fixed on your lips kissing along his cock. His hands cupped around your ears, guiding you towards the tip. Not rough, but steady.

The tip went past your lips easily, fully hard, your mouth wet and waiting for it. You held his gaze as he guided you down his length, holding lightly to the backs of his spread knees.

He hit the back of your throat quickly, your gag reflex flooding your mouth with saliva. You stiffened, but he held you close, his fingertips threaded in your hair.

"Breathe through your nose, baby, through your nose," he gritted, holding you in place. "You wanna do as I say? Breathe through your damn nose."

In that moment, there was nothing more important than following his instructions. As you breathed, your mouth relaxed, allowing another inch to slip down your throat.

"Atta girl, so good for me," Joel praised, raising your head slightly before pushing you down, getting deeper into your mouth with each thrust.

All anxiety fled your mind as he used you, allowing you to just... be. To be pliant and obedient, following directions as he talked you through each moment. Absorbing his praise, allowing it to fill you up like helium in a balloon.

Such a good girl.

Takin' it so well.

Doin' just as I told you.

All the way down.

That's it, baby.

As you sank down on his length, your nose buried in the hair at his base, he reached underneath your chin. His fingertips trailed down your throat, until he could feel the bulge of his cock in your neck.

The sound that left him was the only loss of control, a raw grunt trailing off into a low moan. It made you hum with satisfaction, vibrations from your mouth rolling down his erection.

You didn't notice the tears streaming down your cheeks until you felt his calloused thumb brushing them away.

"I'm gonna fuck your throat now, baby, just relax. I know you can take it."

It was your only warning before he pulled his cock roughly from your throat, letting the tip linger on the edge of your tongue before forcing it deep into you again. And again. And again.

You thought you were crying, but you weren't sure. He laced his fingers so gently through your hair, a sharp contrast to the roughness he handled your throat with.

The praise he gave was more guttural, less restrained, and you moaned around his cock at every bit of it, cut off only by your occasional gagging.

That's so fuckin' perfect, baby.

Takin' my cock so deep, poor thing can't even breathe.

Cryin', you want it so bad.

Suckin' me dry.

You make me so proud, just a little bit more, honey.

He pulled you off of him suddenly, a whine leaving your lips as his cock left your mouth.

Joel stood firmly, wrapping a rough palm around his wet cock. His eyes were dark, but his cheeks were flushed with desire. You imagined yours looked similarly.

"Stand up," he commanded, and you hastily obeyed, your knees nearly buckling as you rose from the floor. You gazed up at him with teary eyes, breathing heavily.

Still palming himself, Joel smiled at your obedience, stepping closer to you, closer, closer, until the backs of your thighs hit the kitchen table. His chest pressed against yours, nearly nose to nose, his eyes fixed on your wet lips.

He brought his free hand up to your face gently, thumb pulling down on your bottom lip. You wrapped your lips around the tip, eyes fluttering shut.

"You'd let me do anythin', wouldn't you?" Joel wondered quietly, and you nodded, his thumb sliding further into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue.

Whimpering, you suckled on his thumb. Your body was loose and pliant, needy for Joel's commands and touches.

Anything he could do, you'd welcome.

The thought should've scared you, but instead it just made you moan again, desperate to show him your obedience. Desperate to hear that soft praise fall from his lips again.

"Good girl," he drawled, kissing your tear-streaked face delicately. "Turn around and bend over, baby."

You moaned as he pulled his thumb from your mouth, a string of spit hitting your chin. Neither of you bothered to wipe it away.

Vision hazy, you turned, bracing your hands against the kitchen table as you bent at the waist. You dipped lower, and lower, until your chest and face pressed into the hard wood.

"Remember your safeword? Say it." Joel ordered, though his tone was soft.

You took a deep breath. "Spiraling."

"And if you can't speak?"

"I pinch you twice."

You might've been shaking, and Joel made you wait as he looked his fill at you.

"Good. You are so beautiful, honey."

Air left your lungs as his words registered.

A finger traced around the wet stain marking your flimsy cotton shorts, his dark chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

You must have squirmed, because a second hand came down against your hip, pinning you to the table. The fingertip against your shorts turned into two, peeling the damp fabric of your shorts and panties away from your soaked cunt.

You tensed as cool air hit your warmth, earning a soft shhhhhhh from Joel, who seemed transfixed on your body. The fingertips digging into the curve of your hip were strong, and held your ass firmly in place as he began to play with you.

Two fingers stroked up and down your soaked slit, the light touch nearly torture against your sensitivity. You tried to brace yourself with your hands, nails digging into the wood as Joel teased at your entrance.

"Please, Joel," you whispered, fresh tears welling in your eyes. "Give me your fingers, please..."

He hummed with satisfaction. "Begging already?"

You nearly sobbed aloud. "Yes, yes, please, please, Joel..."

Joel kept his fingers still, right at the opening to your slick, but his hand against your hip moved.

It threaded through your hair, pulling, forcing an arch in your back, and bringing your head closer to his lips.

His breath was hot in your ear, seductive, and sure.

"I know you want my fingers, baby. Does it hurt, how much you want it?"

You whimpered, tears rolling freshly down your face. "Yes."

"Hmm. That's too bad." His tone was mean, and made your empty cunt clench around nothing. "You don't get to be stretched out on my fingers."

"What? Joel, please-"

His fingers against you disappeared, and the hand in your hair shifted, until it covered your entire mouth, muffling your pathetic begging about to spill from your lips.

"I know you can take it without, honey."

Without warning, his hard cock split you open, driving a near scream from your throat. It was muffled by Joel's hand, as were the frantic moans that followed.

His pace was brutal from the jump, his weight at your back overwhelming. The pain from the lack of foreplay stung, but in a way that had your pussy flooding as the pleasure rushed in. His thrusts sent your hips hard into the edge of the wooden table, again and again, sure to leave purpled bruises behind.

The hand that wasn't covering your mouth groped and pawed at your ass and lovehandles, trying to reach every inch of your ample backside.

Despite the rough handling, guttural praise spilled from his lips.

Your cunt feels like heaven, baby.

So wet and warm for me.

What a tough little cookie you are, huh?

Bet I could wear you down, give you my worst.

You'd take it all, just like you're doin' now.

That's what makes you so fuckin' perfect.

Doin' exactly what I say, when I say it.

Sweet, sweet baby for me.

Such a good fuckin' girl.

Your orgasm was fast, rushing through you like a free-flowing river. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, cries of pleasure barely contained by Joel's calloused palm on your mouth. One of your knees buckled, and your face felt tingly.

Joel fucked you all the way through it, chuckling darkly as your body locked, then shuddered with pleasure. "Oh, you fuckin' love this. So, so good," he drawled, not slowing his pace as you clenched around him. "And guess what? You're gonna give me another one, honey."

You sobbed with overstimulation as your orgasm faded, leaving you shaking your head against his firm hold. Another one would surely put you six feet under.

"Nuh uh, unless you're pinchin' me, I ain't quittin'," Joel gruffed. "I know you can give me another, baby. I bet you can feel it already, buildin' up in your belly."

You moaned once more at his words, always speaking the truth. The coil of an orgasm was already starting to tighten in your stomach, your pussy fluttered around Joel in anticipation and overstimulation.

The hand that had been groping your hips stilled, as if he were distracted by something else.

You nearly shrieked as his free thumb traced the edge of your wet hole where his cock drove in and out, gathering your slick on the fingertip.

When he pressed the same thumb up against your tightest hole, your cunt clenched even tighter, your second orgasm barreling faster and faster.

"Never played back here before, have we, baby?" Joel's tone was so sweet, and innocent, like he didn't have a thumb pressed against your asshole as he fucked your cunt. "Bet it would feel so good, like all your holes. Warm, and tight..."

He circled your asshole lightly, teasing his wet thumb against the muscle.

Your entire body tensed and shook, wetness gushing from your cunt as you came a second time. Near-screams ripped from your mouth, barely muffled by Joel's rough hand. Pulses from your pussy sent slick running down your legs, your back involuntarily arching up from the wooden table.

Joel came with a loud grunt, spilling deep into your cervix as your shuddering slowed.

For a moment, you both lingered there, joined.

Joel moved his hand from your mouth with an urgency, like he had almost forgotten it was there.

You felt him stand above you again, his fingertips pulling loose locks of hair from your sweaty forehead and eyes.

"Honey, I'm gonna pull out. It might hurt, but it's only for a second."

It did hurt, and you winced slightly, but the immediate gentle touches against your legs and hips made any discomfort disappear. At once, a simple fact hit you.

He hadn't even bothered to take your shorts or panties off. All that time, they had been shoved to the side as he had his way with you.

You started giggling against the wooden table, eyes fluttering open and shut as he gently pulled your shorts and panties down to your ankles, off your feet.

"What's so funny, pretty girl?" he asked, pulling your shoulders upwards to help you stand.

"You didn't even take my clothes off, and we did all... that," you explained, lifting yourself from the table. His hands held your waist carefully, turning you until your chest leaned into his.

Joel's eyes were dark, though not with heat like usual. More like... care. Tenderness. He cocked his head, glancing down at your legs. "You feel like you can walk?"

Your legs shook slightly, but you nodded.

He brushed a hand over your hair and furrowed his brows. "Upstairs?"

You laughed out loud at the thought. "Definitely not."

He huffed, like he was trying not to laugh with you. In an easy swoop of his arms under your knees and waist, he lifted you.

You hummed with delight at the pressure taken off your shaky legs, and Joel carried you up the stairs with as little effort it takes to carry an empty laundry basket.

He laid you down in his bed, quickly digging around in his clean clothes to find something for you to change into.

"Are you fussing over me?" You wondered aloud, watching him pull out an enormous Longhorns t-shirt, boxers, and thick rolled socks from his drawers.

He paused, as if realizing what he was doing. "Uh, yeah, I guess so. Feels right, given I was hard on you."

God, he looked so sweet. He held the assortment of comfy clothes like an offering, looking back at you with wide, heartfelt eyes. He was disheveled, his brow still a bit shiny with sweat. His jeans were still undone, hastily pulled up to his hips, no belt, no zip.

You smiled, ear to ear. At your grin, he mirrored the sentiment.

"I could definitely get used to this."

---

if you want way more where that came from xoxoxo

comments are always appreciated if you liked it :)