i came, i read, i came (well, mentally, but she did at least, lucky bitch đ
fair's fair | pervy!dbf!joel x f!reader
masterlist | notifs blog
pairing: pervy!dbf!joel x pervy!f!reader
summary: [no outbreak] joel shoves you in his sweaty pits as a 'joke'.
warnings: (18+ mdni) pervy!dbf!joel, age gap (early to mid 20s/38), somewhat mutual pining & sexual tension, joel in a wifebeater and jorts, reader has hair, smacking joel's ass like god intended, degradation, sweaty!joel, musk kink, armpit kink!!!, coming untouched, joel calls reader 'kiddo', 2 spanks, m!masturbation [no use of y/n]
word count: 2.1k
a/n: in another life, i'd be sorry for this fic. in this life, i am not. as always, a shoutout to the effervescent @lovesickonmybed for moodboard curation + creating this au. love to @seventeenpins for taking a glimpse at this + inspiring me. ty esquire team.... hooooly shit. pls suspend your disbelief if you can't come untouched we're here for a good time not a realistic one. btw you're all pussies for chickening out of the pit fics you 'planned' to write after this esquire photo fell into our laps /j
You awake to a rattling crash on the other side of the wall that you share with your dadâs combination garage/man cave. With an exaggerated groan, you peel yourself out of your creased sheets. Maybe the raccoons that have been terrorizing your garbage cans have finally broken into the garage. Youâre still in your pajamas â a low-cut tank top and some bloomers that are entirely too short on you â when you rub the sleep from your eyes and shove your feet into your slippers to investigate.Â
The house is quieter than dust so early in the morning. Your dadâs out at work, and the rest of the neighborhood is just beginning to wake up. Thereâs the tstststststs of the Adlerâs sprinkler system and the birds are chirping. In the mudroom, you snatch up a broom and wrap your fist around it. You listen through the paneling of the door for any hissing or scuttling, but hear nothing. You are not looking to get rabies today.
You poke your head out of the door, broom pointed at the ground like a staff. Immediately, youâre blinded by a slice of sunshine cutting through the very much open garage.
Youâre about two seconds away from sprinting back inside to call 911 when you see the unkempt, sunkissed hair of none other than Joel Miller.
You set the broom gently back against the wall. Joelâs not a threat â at least not to anything but that traitor between your legs. Heâs just your dadâs buddy; drinking buddy, fishing buddy, jack-of-all-trades buddy. Heâs also no stranger to those borderline goo-goo eyes you give him. How could you not? Heâs just so broad and muscled and God, you swear up and down that you stare more at his ass than anyone has ever stared at yours.
Sometimes, if youâre lucky, heâll even give you shit about it. Bending over directly in your line of sight at block parties, âplay wrestlingâ with you on the dock by the lake whenever you jokingly call him an old man, or, in one very special instant, giving your ass a smack that sent you into an hours long tizzy.
You deserve to give him shit about it, too.
After all, heâs the one ferreting around in your dadâs garage in the wee hours of the morning. You pad into the garage, footsteps muffled by your slippers as you navigate around your dadâs pickup. You catch a better look at Joel when you pass the truck bed. And, for better or for worse, heâs dressed like a slut.
His ribbed white wifebeater stretches over his wide chest, grass stains scattered along the small of his back. Sweat darkens the hems of his shirt under his armpits, glistening and beading on the back of his neck, too. In true dad fashion, he even has on jorts. Heâs bent over your dadâs tool bench, thumbing around an assortment of screwdrivers. His denim-covered ass sticks out. A smile spreads across your face.
You slip around the truck and take soft step after soft step until youâre right behind him. You canât help but notice a cocktail of his pheromones and B.O. surrounding him. He mustâve been outside for a while now with all of the stains heâs accumulated on his shirt already. You keep your breathing muted so he canât hear you as you reach out and â smack!
Joel shrieks, shooting upright. His head slams into the shelf overhead and a few bolts go toppling onto the concrete below. He cusses like a sailor as his hand goes up to rub the back of his head, nursing where a lump will probably be in a few hours time. Joel whips around to see you, smothering your giggles behind your hand. âYou little shit,â he huffs, still scratching at his head. You donât miss how his cheeks are firetruck red. âThe fuck are ya doinâ?â
âMe? The fuck are you doing, Miller? Stomping around my dadâs garage at, like, the asscrack of dawnââ
âNine in the morninâ ainât the asscrack of dawn, sweetcheeks,â Joel says. Then, he holds up a set of pliers. âMower shit the bed. Iâm thinkinâ Sarah stole my pliers to make necklaces, but she hasnât fessed up yet. Your pops said I could borrow his.â He stretches, giving you a long whiff of his scent. The groan he lets out stirs something in your stomach, much to your chagrin.
âI think the mower is the least of your worries,â you say, wrinkling your nose. âYou reek. Shower shit the bed, too?â
âYou try doinâ yard work in 90 degree heat, kiddo. See how much you smell like that strawberry raspberry peach whatever-the-fuck soap youâre usinâ.â
You roll your eyes so hard youâre surprised you donât see the back of your skull. âRosemary eucalyptus,â you correct under your breath.
âHmm, what was that?â Joel asks, tossing the pliers down onto the workbench. âGotta speak up.â
âRosemary eucalyptus,â you say. âBut I bet you wouldnât know. What do you use? 18 in 1?â
Joel grunts. âReal funny.â He takes a step closer to you, lips taut with a smirk. âHow âbout you find out?â
You donât have time to question what the hell he means â he just cups the back of your head with one of his wide palms and shoves your face directly into his closest sweaty pit. âMmmmph!â you protest, mouth sealed shut against the thatch of hair thatâs spattered across his skin. You hold your breath for as long as you can, but eventually, youâre forced to suck in a breath through your squished nose. His musk, sweet and just as sharp, fills your airways. Your clit all but jerks between your legs in humiliation, drawing a whine out of your throat.
Joel chuckles, ruffling your hair. Itâs enough to make your thighs clench. âYouâre a little freak, huh?â He presses harder on the back of your head, so much so that you almost get a mouthful of his underarm.
âYouuu dick!â you try to say without opening your mouth too far. It comes out muffled against his sweat-pearled skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push him off of you.
Another wry chuckle comes from above. Joel bends his arm so that his elbow is wrapped around the back of your head, effectively trapping you in his funk. âCome on, huff âem. Practically fuckinâ asking for it earlier, all âa that mouthinâ off. So now you get a mouthful of my pits. Fairâs fair, kiddo.â
Embarrassment ribbons through your body, the kind that makes you leak into your panties against your will. Still looking for a way out, you squirm against his ironclad hold.
Itâs only good for making him land a heavy-hitting slap across your ass. You yelp, a new wave of slick saturating the drenched gusset of your panties. You jump where you are, hips bucking into nothing â for escape or pressure, youâre not entirely sure. âUnless you wanna go over my knee instead?â Your face sears with humiliation.
Tentatively, you snuffle a bit against his pit, biting into your cheeks at his musk. It makes you cough a little bit â heâs been carrying the smell of cutting grass and his own sweat all morning.
âYeah, thought so. But you can do better than that, sweetcheeks. I said huff, not fake an asthma attack.â You whimper, this time sucking in a longer breath. Here he is, holding you down, secure against his pit as you're left with no other option than to take what he gives you, when he gives it to you. All you can smell, feel, touch is just Joel, Joel, Joel. It makes you lightheaded.
Your clit is practically a kickdrum between your thighs, pulsing and doing more work than your head. You try to angle yourself so that you can rub your clit against Joelâs leg, but he puts a stop to that real quick. âGettinâ all wound up just from being where ya belong, your pretty little face in my pit?â You mewl, reaching for Joelâs sides. You bunch your fists in the fabric of his wifebeater, and he allows it.
âSince youâre so eager to complain about it, how âbout you clean me up, huh?â He nudges his pit against your face again, and, confusedly, you furrow your brows. You canât see much of him, but you do see the edge of his mouth tip up in satisfaction. âYou got rocks for brains? Lick, kiddo.â
Hesitance drives the soft kitten lick of your tongue, swiping up and down across a very small portion of his pit. He loosens up on his grip on you, giving you the slightest bit more reign. You try to tell yourself that youâre scared of what he might do if you disappoint him, but hell if you donât want this as much as he does, tongue, nose, face buried in his pits. Some sort of ultimate form of worship between the two of you.
You lave your tongue across his pit, eyes fluttering with each stroke. You swirl it in the crease of his arm, sucking his goddamn hairs clean with the fervor youâve picked up. Enthused now, you bob your head up and down. Your clit responds, throbbing with a heartbeat of its own.
Youâre panting, inhaling and exhaling him, lapping up his musk like a fucking dog, gone from reluctant to eager. Your clit twitches faster and faster, and you swear that arousal must be tacky on the insides of your thighs, leaking through your panties all over the front of your bloomers, but you canât do anything about it. You canât even grind against Joel â you can only slurp against his armpit, something like desperation having replaced all of your previous mortification from when heâd shoved you there in the first place.
Youâre so preoccupied with pleasing him that you donât even notice the thumping of your clit, picking up speed and pressure. Your body seizes in between your greedy little licks. You feel yourself weaken before you stiffen.
And maybe itâs the way Joel keeps groaning with each movement of your tongue. It could be how he exhales, âKiddo,â in a raspy voice, both demeaning and endearing all at once. But in the end, itâs how he says, âMmmm, such a good goddamn tongue. Bet itâd feel so good on my cock,â that breaks the dam between your legs.
You shudder, coming completely undone with little moans and whimpers in Joelâs arms without so much as a hand on your clit, just your face smothered in his pit. Drool runs down your lips and across your chin as you jerk and weaken in his grasp. If you werenât so underwater, so far gone, youâd be able to hear him saying, âFuck â whoa, whoa, whoa,â trying to stop you from falling on your ass in the middle of the garage. His hands card across your sides as he props you up against the workbench. Your vision blackens at the edges from the intensity of your orgasm, and youâre still coming, at least you think you are, when you blink yourself back to awareness. Youâre wide-eyed, tears brimming at your waterline, incapacitated in a way that you didnât know you could be.
âHoly shit,â you gasp when you finally fully come to, slumped over the workbench, still half-clinging to Joel. âFuck.â
Joel looks stunned, looking you up and down as if he canât get enough of you. His eyes land right between your thighs, where, sure enough, youâve ruined your bloomers. You still feel like deadweight, and you struggle to stand upright. Youâre not sure youâve ever come so hard even with someoneâs hands all over your. Joelâs glistening with even more sweat, and itâs impossible to miss the glaring bulge in his shorts. He clears his throat after a minute. âOughta go get cleaned up before your daddy gets back for his lunch break, kiddo.â
You stumble upright, drenched in sweat yourself now, Joelâs lingering scent still pervading every breath you take. âY-yeah,â you manage, nodding. You feel out of your own body, stumbling towards the door. Youâre so wet that you can feel it with every goddamn step. Fuck Joel Miller, cocky piece of shâ
Youâre immediately returned to your own body by the resounding swat Joel lands on your ass. You jump, shooting a glare over your shoulder. He puts his hands up, pleading innocence.
Youâre not surprised when you crawl out of your shower, smelling of rosemary eucalyptus and dripping water all over the floor, only to see Joelâs mower abandoned in the middle of his yard. Even worse, you arenât surprised in the slightest when you squint through your bedroom window, Joel sprawled out across his bed, hips bucking in-time with his fist before catching your eye and spraying ropes of cum all over his abdomen.
You mouth at him through the window with a taunting little wink, Clean yourself up this time.
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