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shellshocklove · 2 days
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oh yessss!! this fic is back!!! i’m so happy i enjoyed the first fic sm <333
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hello 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫
god i can’t help but think that someone’s about to catch feelings soon (if they haven’t already 👀). i know this was a prequel but i can’t help but think they’ve longing for something more than just sex since the beginning? 👀
glitch
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pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader
word count: ~1k
summary: Prequel to nights are so starry, blood moonlit. How you and Javi became neighbors with benefits.
warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), smoking, alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, a hint of dom!Javi, unprotected p in v, kinda rough sex, ass slaps, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), Javi is a menace, a hint of angst and feelings because of who i am as a person
a/n: written for @iamasaddie’s writing challenge 2.0 with the prompt "never knew you were such a freak", and since my first story about these two was also part of one of aly's writing challenges, it just made sense to revisit them :)
dividers as always by @saradika-graphics <3
find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates!
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It had started out with fleeting glances in the hallway, quick greetings when your apartment doors opened at the same time, then short conversations on your adjoining balconies, late night talks with your feet propped up on the railing and his back leaning against it, sometimes exchanging a cigarette or a light, or occasionally a bottle of beer when one of you had run out. 
Of course you noticed the ridiculously tight jeans that really shouldn't look that good on him, the way his broad shoulders strained against his clothes, and the way his shirts always revealed a little too much of his golden-skinned chest. You couldn't deny the fact that your neighbor was incredibly attractive, and that he knew it. 
You probably should have said no when late one evening, after Javi had found you on your balcony, smoking and watching the glistening city lights, he invited you to share a glass of bourbon. Together. At his place. 
He had been flirting with you, which you suspected he did with every woman he met, and you had tried not to pay it any mind, but you were well aware of how this evening would end if you accepted. 
You should have said no, and a stronger, less lonely version of you might have, but you craved human contact, craved to be touched by someone else than yourself, and if the sounds that traveled through the thin walls from his bedroom to yours frequently enough were any indication, Javi knew what he was doing. 
You should have said no, because it became clear to you very quickly that Javier Peña would ruin you for all other men.
He was more gentle, more caring than you had expected him to be and he prioritized your pleasure in a way that you had never experienced from any man before. He took you to heights that you hadn’t thought possible before, and it was addicting.
You should have said no, but you hadn’t, and now you keep coming back for more. 
You keep coming back for the way his skin tastes under your tongue, for the way his lips press against yours, swallowing moans and whimpers, for the way his fingers and his cock reach so deep inside of you that you still feel him hours later, when you have said your good nights and crawled under the covers of your own bed. Never his, never crossing the line to a different kind of intimacy.
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It’s another one of those nights, a soft knock on a door, a mutual understanding passing between you, gentle touches that burned under your skin until they got more demanding, until you both gave in to that pull that kept you coming back. 
He’s already made you come on his tongue twice, until you were dripping onto his sheets, his name the only word in your mind and on your lips. You’re on your hands and knees, limbs shaking, trying to accommodate his length and the harsh rhythm that he’s setting. 
“Taking me so fucking well,” he pants, running his hands down your back and over your ass. You chase his touch, goosebumps forming in its wake, your moans filling the air as he keeps hitting impossibly deep inside of you. 
His palm connects with your skin, nothing more than a playful swat, but the sensation sears through you, lighting your nerve endings on fire as you all but scream your pleasure into the softly lit bedroom.
“Oh?” His voice is low, rough in his throat. You don’t need to turn your head and look behind you to know that he’s smirking down at you right now. “You liked that, huh?” 
You nod eagerly, too far gone to be ashamed of the way your hips are bucking back against him, working desperately to feel him deeper inside of you. 
He slaps you again, harder this time, and you feel yourself clenching around him, feel the way a new wave of slick is coating his cock. His fingers dig into your shoulder and he pulls you up, until your torso is pressed against his, his mouth moving against the delicate skin of your neck. 
“Never knew you were such a freak, baby,” he whispers, his lips curling into a grin, teeth nipping at you.
“Shut up.” You try to hold your voice steady, ignore the throbbing need between your thighs, but he just chuckles and presses another kiss against the side of your throat before he loosens his hold and pushes you back towards the mattress. 
His hands grab your hips instead, pulling you into his thrusts, filling you so deeply that you see stars behind your eyelids.
“You want me to do it again?” You hate how smug he sounds, would love to deny him the satisfaction, but god, you do want him to. 
“Fuck– please, Javi.” You’re breathless, reduced to a mess of trembling thighs and desperate whimpers, and you wish that you could stay like this forever. 
He slaps your ass twice in quick succession and deepens his thrusts at the same time, punching all air from your lungs. His hand snakes down to graze your clit and you’re overwhelmed with sensations, pure pleasure coursing through your veins so suddenly that it’s almost disorienting. You collapse onto the sheets, your pussy pulsing around him as your body shakes through its third orgasm of the night and you’re whimpering his name as he buries himself deep inside of you and comes with a groan, painting your insides with his release. 
After more kisses, more touches, and a shared cigarette, you get dressed and eventually, his apartment door clicks shut behind you. You lean your back against the wall, closing your eyes and breathing deeply for a moment before you enter your own place.
Again, you know that you’ll be coming back for more. And that no matter how many times you come back, it will never be enough.
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thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!
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shellshocklove · 2 days
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HELICOPTER FUCK !!! hell yeaaaahhh
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lmao why is he so unintentionally funny 😭
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oh 👀 what do you love frankie👀
ugh this was perfect and now i need frankie to fuck me while he’s flying a chopper. when will it be my turn 😔 and so on and so forth
up sky, low high
frankie morales x f!reader | frankie morales masterlist
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summary: frankie takes you on a heli-ride. you decide to test his competency and take him for a ride.
word count: 1.9k warnings: smut. 18+. there's mouth to cock action in the sky - new kink for jo? maybe. jo's interpretation of how to fly a heli is deffo a warning in itself. everyone is safe. remember he's a professional, but don't try this in the air bbys. jo’s spelling—written on phone, forgive me. moodboard not reflective of reader. an: this wouldn't be possible without @morallyinept who not only thotted with me, told me to write this, filled me with confidence at the halfway point when i sent it to her but also made the prettiest banner and moodboard for this (see at the bottom). babe ily, thank you so much for this.
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It’s not ideal—not even close to safe.
Finger pushing in on the button that releases the elements of your seatbelt as you swallow, staring at him. Gawking, in fact.
Frankie always looks good, a fact not fiction.
Whether it’s first thing in the morning, sleep in his eyes—fingers scratching over his soft stomach as he yawns. Or when his eyes are hidden under the bill of his hat, dark, all mahogany brown pupils blown with lust as the thing on the television becomes forgotten.
And while he does always look incredible, there’s something criminal about the way he looks right now. Piloting, all in his element, wearing fucking competency like he was the one who first birthed it as he keeps the helicopter in the air.
Short flight, he’d said when he’d helped you into the rental.
Now, you could bet on it.
Because you're not even sure how long you’ve been in the air, too busy gazing, hungrily undressing him as he flicks switches and checks gauges. Your understanding of what he was doing lost, barely reaching a basic level.
What you do know is that if he reaches over, slides his hand up your dress and touches the fabric covering your pussy, he’d find them soaked.
But then, he’d also likely notice the way you’re taking shallow breaths, that you’ve been squirming for friction for the past so many instructions—
Because of his voice.
It all low, husky—dragged through gravel when it comes through the headset. Pointing out sights, places, but he’s the only thing you want to gaze at from this height. From any height.
That’s why the thought had arrived, to begin with, the lucrative one. The one so far gone that you try not to consider logistics and just trust in the fact he’d stop you if it was too unsafe. Your voice barely steady through the microphone, asking—layered and wrapped with demand, as your pulse quickens and your palms become slick with sweat.
You know the idea is ridiculous. Yet, somehow, you find yourself moving up onto your knees, digging them into the chair you’d just been seated on.
That’s when you see it. The glimmer, the spark, before he whines out that he’ll maintain altitude as you palm him over his cargo pants. Feeling him harden, pressing against the zipper, all thick, long and delicious as your mouth waters.
Because you need him in your mouth.
A thing you must murmur because suddenly he’s helping—lifting his hips as he whispers an oh fuck, when you drag his layers down and your hand wraps around his cock. More so when you move your wrist, dipping your head to slide your tongue to lick up the bead of want already there at the tip.
Flicking your gaze up, you find hungry eyes staring back—ones lit by the sun, shades a plenty making up the lust-filled gaze that makes your mouth open wider as you take as much of him as you can.
Fuck it’s glorious.
Both the thrum of vibrations through the cushion seat under your knees as he keeps the thing in the air and the feel of his hot length sliding against your tongue. As you take him. As you make him hiss through gritted teeth when you try to take a little more of him than you usually manage—tears springing in your eyes and your throat constricting around him—
“Careful, querida,” he soothes.
Large hand cupping the back of your head, easing, aiding, as his cock rests at the entrance of your mouth, placed perfectly on your lower lip. Breath coming back to you; eyes blinking as he darts his eyes from the world below him to you.
“You okay?”
Until now, you weren’t sure if it was possible to be more in love with him. Then he proved that even up in the air he thought of nothing but what was best for you.
Nodding, spit trailing down your chin, droplets falling to your chest where it pools as fabric meets skin, you smile. Gleam. Grin. Before making him swallow a moan as you take him again, his head falling back.
It’s then, when you hollow your cheeks do you feel him shift, allowing him, as he gently thrusts to slide his length as far down your throat as it allows. Good girl, so good, my good girl—
Humming around him at his praise, a blend of languages as he calls you pretty and perfect. And you can tell he’s close, taste it on your tongue as he begins to rock his hips, as he begins to hiss—teeth biting down on his lip, imagining his knuckles whitening around the cyclic stick.
It’s enough to make you come from the thought—close to ruining your own panties further as you press your thighs together.
Closing your lips around him, sucking and adorning, showing him, etching your love for him with the way your tongue swirls over the tip, hand gripping his thigh as he groans your name. It followed by s’close, m’close baby—
Then he pulls you off him, all with care. Spit connecting your lips to his tip as you stare at him in confusion. The line dropping, snapping—it clinging to the curls at the base of him, soaking his hair like dew on a spring morning.
“Frankie…”
It’s all you manage to croak out. Eyes wide, thoughts barely present, all cock-drunk and adrenaline-fuelled—the scent of him still there, around your nose, musk and engine oil.
“Need to land,” he replies, short, jaw tight—cock angry and throbbing between his thighs as he flicks a switch. “Can’t… can’t fuck you, unless I land.”
You’re not sure he’s ever landed so quickly, never mind so clunky. Remembering stories, how he gloats at his prowess at most of his land landings. But you have no time to question, think, or ask, before he pulls off his belt, headset and hat before reaching to yank you into his lap.
It’s clumsy—a mess of limbs, a tight squeeze as your hands skate around his neck. But you forget about it all when his mouth crashes to yours. Kissing you so hard and hungrily your teeth clash. His breath is hot in your mouth as he pants at the feel, likely tasting himself as he slips his tongue into yours.
And it’s warm, his tongue. Licking into your mouth, large hands around your waist brushing your clothed core against his cock—the hiss reverbing down your throat as you swear you feel him shake. Tremble. So desperate for you that it makes him quiver.
You love kissing him.
Could spend hours doing it. Not caring about jaw aches when you’re tangled up with him. Like right now. In some field, in some place—
“Need t’fuck you, baby. Can I fuck you please?” he asks, voice low, but tinged with a plea.
His hand balls up your dress, the other hand hooking a finger in to pull your soaked underwear from your pussy before groaning at the sight. “Hold them for me, baby.”
Swallowing, smiling—you do. Lifting, nudging yourself closer as your knees screech on the leather as you become full of molten hunger. Hovering over him as he eases the head of his cock to your slick entrance, sliding it through your folds, eyes focused on you.
“Can’t wait.”
“Then, don’t,” you whisper.
Then he hisses as he pushes in, right between his teeth. One that’s born at the back of his throat and makes an entrance into the air. Cuts. Slices. The sound so fucking hot that you clench around him when he bottoms out—mouth open in an O at how full, stretched and stuffed you feel.
“No te muevas—lemme feel you, baby. Fuck—”
Your smile widens—practically smirking. Shifting on him as the hand on your waist tightens its hold. But, you’re not listening. Even less so when you press an open-mouth kiss to his skin as you begin to move, to slowly slide your pussy up and down his shaft.
“Fuck, querida—feel so—good—incredible. Tu perfecto. Made for me, you know that…”
It’s layered—all in a breath; you answer similarly when you say that you do. Practically pressing it into the air as you pant, resting your forehead on his shoulder, as the two of you are quick to find a pace.
It’s almost drowned by how wet you are, how loud it is when he begins to thrust up into you. All aching for one another, practically feral as you feel your slick clings to your inner thighs—likely smudging against his skin as your fist clenches at his shirt. Clit brushing against the tangle of coarse hair, you’re soaking, that makes you dizzy as he begins to fuck up into you.
All deep thrusts. Making you moan—feeling nothing but good. Perfect. Amazing.
Just how he always makes you feel this way. Every, single, time—
“Need you to come, baby,” he strains, rasps, groans as you feel his hand—all expert, calloused in the right places—snake between the two of you.
It’s there, trying to disguise between letters: desperation. Despair. His touch confirms it, finding your bundle of nerves as he makes you gasp, arch, tighten around him as your hand finds refuge on the back of his neck. Your fingers slide into his sweat-soaked curls, smearing against your fingers as you clutch, grip and grasp.
And you’re aware of it now. How the cabin is warmer—windows likely smothered in perspiration—but it’s nothing compared to the heat of your body. It licks at your neck, at the base of your spine, the backs of your thighs that meet your calves.
But you’re lost in it, in him. Wanting nothing more than to come; unable to speak from how much you want to. More so as his hips cant up into you, as you begin to see white in the corner of your vision—as your body becomes more fire than bone.
Tightening around him as he shifts, an angle that makes you see fucking stars as you whine his name like it’s made of one syllable.
“—that’s it, querida. Fuck, s’good for me, I love—“
It building, so near to snapping as you hear him babbling, rambling. Your mouth is just open against his neck, moaning—the noise slipping out of you as it slams into you. His voice fading, the world going quiet as you come undone, all pulsing, all clenching down on him as it crests.
But his hips push you through it. Chasing, seeking. His pace is all sloppy, difficult, lost as you blink your eyes open to see the way his face is scrunched, lips over his teeth. And if you hadn’t just, you swear you’d come against from the sight.
That look of sheer determination, skin bathed in sweat before his eyes find yours—crystallising, glazed over and fucked out—
“Come for me, baby,” you whisper.
And his expression pauses. Relaxes.
Smooths.
His hand tightens on your hip, grunting out your name—burying it into the air as his hips stutter. Then, he whines. Spilling inside of you as he collapses back into the chair, you pressed against him, jaw all slack and his eyes clenched shut.
And you swear you can feel his heartbeat. It is all out of step with your own.
Not that you care.
Smiles painted on your faces as your eyes met his, breaths ragged, your finger wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.
Before his lips slide back over yours, kissing you, writing gratitude against your mouth as the muscles in his neck flex under your palm.
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an: look how pretty this issssssss. thank you so much, jett.
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shellshocklove · 2 days
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oh they are seriously the cutest 🥺🥺 i love their relationship sm:((
y2k
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moodboard and fic inspo by @psychedelic-ink main masterlist
rating: Teen (this is an 18+ blog) warnings: fluff, Joel and Sarah being domestic and cute af, swearing, Sarah being a little shit. No outbreak. word count: 876 summary: a morning in the Miller Household with our fave resident Girl Dad and his Daughter (who is a little shit affectionately).
A/N: @psychedelic-ink is having a cute lil joel miller birthday bash and i requested a silly y2k moodboard in honour of the occasion. This spawned from my brain before I could stop it. Happy Birthday, JM!
if my boss asks, i've been working super hard for the last hour and not writing this.
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Joel sat at the kitchen counter, nursing his morning coffee. It was a clear day, the heat of summer dwindling now that October was approaching. He relished these quiet moments in the mornings, just him and his world inside that house, safe and sound.
Even after 15 years though, the silence never lasted long. He was glad for it - he dreaded to think how quickly the days of silence would come and how much he would long for the noise.
As expected, footsteps thundered down the stairs.
One day that kid's goin' to bring this fuckin' house down.
"Hey Dad," Sarah says breathlessly as she sidles up to Joel. She's hiding something behind her back, and Joel well knows that look on her face by know. She's been up to something.
"Mornin' kid," he smiles. Whatever she's up to he doesn't care, seeing the best thing he ever did every morning always put a smile on his face. "What you got there?"
"I got something to show you," she bites her lip. "I made it."
Joel's heart wants to burst out of his chest. As a kid, he was always being gifted little drawings and creations - pictures of them in their house, a deranged looking cat with too many legs (a sign from Sarah that she really wanted a pet kitty - he wishes he could've said yes to her, but his allergies would never let it happen), a paper mache lump of something she'd made and painted. He kept it, but he still didn't know what it was. My babies first abstract art he'd joked at the time. It had been years since she'd made anything for him, she was more into playing with friends and sports than arts and crafts with her old man these days.
"Alright then, let's see it," he turns to face his daughter as she pulls her laptop from behind her back. It was a birthday gift this summer, and she was rarely off the damn thing - she said it made homework easier than having to use the family desktop computer, but he still didn't quite believe she didn't just use to to talk to her friends until the early hours of the morning. Still, he could never say no or be mad at her for much of anything for too long.
"And you ain't takin' that to school."
Sarah rolls her eyes. "I'm not. Look."
She points to the screen.
"I was up all night making it for you - Happy Birthday, Dad!"
It's... well. It's something else. Pictures of him (he recognized one as a picture she had taken 5 years ago) and the two of them together, all interspersed with a collection of other images he wasn't familiar with but somehow seemed to match. Joel's stomach dropped with it - if this is what his baby girl was into, maybe she'd changed more as a teen than he thought. Still, she'd made it for him. It was special.
"I... it's..." Joel was getting genuinely choked up. He didn't care what it was. He just loved that she made it for him.
"Don't you love it?" she prods his arm, grinning like a maniac.
"I do." And he did.
"The color pallette is so cute right, and this picture is my favorite." She points to a picture in the middle from a 4th of July last year - Her and Joel had gone to a neighbors house to celebrate. There'd been a bonfire. "I put filters on everything to make it more pink. It really gels it all together, don't you think?"
It was one of his favorites too. Even with... all the pink.
"It is uh, real pink, yeah," Joel says, scratching his neck. "It your new favorite color or somethin'? We need to paint your room again?"
Sarah's face drops. "I - I thought it was your favorite color, Dad." She looks devastated.
Joel is dumbstruck. What does he say. He flounders, stuttering, trying to find the words.
Suddenly, Sarah's face breaks into a shit eating grin big enough to rival Tommy's.
"I'm just fucking with you dad."
Joel's eyes snap to hers, a warning, and amusement, flashing across his face.
She holds her hands up in surrender. "Messing! I'm just messing with you."
"Well, I love it anyway. Even if you are just messin' with me," he kisses her temple and pushes her toward the door. "C'mon, lets get goin' or you're goin' to be late, and so am I."
Sarah rolls her eyes, gathers her school bag and heads for the door with Joel in tow. They both head for his truck, starting their day the same way they always do - together.
Joel stops before he reaches his truck, placing a large hand on the hood and looking over to his daughter. His - how did he get so lucky.
"Hey kid... can you send me that picture when you get home from school?"
Sarah smiles. It was a silly joke, but she's glad he loves it too. "Sure thing, Dad."
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shellshocklove · 3 days
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dirty work | joel miller
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(gif by me)
pairing/AU: daddy!joel miller x female!reader - no outbreak
summary: joel's work has been a bitch the last few weeks and he's tired, but it's nothing you can't fix.
warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! swearing, use of pet names, smut with a dash of fluff, lap sitting, daddy!dom!joel, praise with a dash of degradation, handjob, cockwarming, use of sex toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, creampie, no use of y/n
a/n: this is just a short smut idea i wanted to write. minimal editing done here btw so if you see any mistakes, no you didn't 🥰
masterlist / ao3
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At the sound of a key turning, you lifted your head from the couch pillow.
Tapping at your phone resting on your chest, you noticed it was an hour later than he’d promised – not that you were surprised. Joel hadn’t been home earlier than nine o’clock for weeks as his new client had turned out to be on another level of demanding and indecisive. Every morning he’d woken up before six and left you with a kiss to your forehead long before your own alarm would ring.
Finally home, his heavy work boots scraped against the tiles in the hallway, before you heard the thud of his tool bag hitting the floor followed by a tired sigh. Pushing yourself to rest on your elbow you peeked over the armrest of the couch.
“Did the wife change her mind again?” you asked in a raised voice, lowering the volume on the reality show you’d been half-watching since dinner.
With heavy footsteps he padded into your living room and an ache settled in your chest as you took him in. His hair was ruffled and messy, and his eyes drooped at the corners. With a groan Joel dropped down next to you on the couch. Shifting your weight to sit up properly, you moved your blanket a little out of the way to move closer to your tired man. He didn’t answer right away, his palms coming up to rub at his eyes as an exasperated sigh escaped his lips.
“That goddamn woman had her sister visitin’ this weekend ‘nd now she wanna change everythin’, again.” He breathed out another heavy sigh, before his palms came down on his thighs with a dull smack!
“Are you serious?” you shook your head and shifted even closer, your knees brushing against his denim clad thigh.
“’m afraid so, baby,” he said and let his head fall against the back of the couch, his eyes trailing a pattern in the ceiling.
Shifting on your knees you sunk into his side, letting your head fall to rest on his shoulder, while you snaked your hand across his broad chest to pull him closer in a hug. Almost like a reflex Joel lifted his arm to wrap around you.
“Can’t you let Tommy take the lead on this project? This much work isn’t healthy, Joel,” you spoke into his t-shirt, breathing in that familiar smell of him – the smell of faded cologne, sawdust and sweat.
“If I wanna get fired, maybe. Tommy already offended that woman weeks ago sayin’ some shit about how indecisive she was– not that he was wrong but…” he trailed off, instead he hooked his arm under your knees to pull your legs over his lap. Tilting your head slightly you watched his eyes, how they fixated on his hand now resting over the thick of your thigh, his finger brushing small circles over the fabric of your lounge wear as thoughts swiveled in his head.
“Anyway, it’ll be done in a few weeks– I just gotta push through and it’s good money,” he concluded after a beat, his hand flexing before coming down on your thigh in a small pat.
You hummed, squeezing him closer to your body. “I just wish you didn’t need to work so hard– I’ve missed you.”
You felt the softest touch of a kiss to the top of your head at your confession, and it made a smile wash over your features. “I’ve missed you too, baby.” Joel said, his voice muffled through more presses of small light kisses.
His hand resting over your thigh traveled up your body, like he was trying to remember what you felt like again. A calloused finger landed under your chin, the pad rough from a lifetime of hard work, to tilt your head upwards. A smile tugged at your lips, and you knew what he wanted. Locking eyes with him, the world seemed to bleed at the corners, before it all seemed to focus on nothing but him when he dipped down to brush his lips over yours. You keened into him, keened into his touch, keened into the way his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow in just the right way.
“Missed you real bad.”
The deep rumble of his voice vibrated through your body, igniting a want that had laid dormant all these weeks. A content breathy sigh escaped your lips when he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing over the seam of your lips to lick into your mouth. Grasping for something to tether yourself to, your hand found the thick muscle of his bicep.
When you’d both stolen each other’s breaths for too long, Joel started pressing kisses down your jaw to the column of your neck – nipping at the sensitive skin before soothing it over with his tongue.
“Want ya so bad, baby– missed that tight pussy around my cock.”
You whined at his confession, your body involuntarily squirming as the deep bass in his voice whispering in your ear, sent shivers down your spine.
“Missed you too,” you managed to breathe out, “Missed you too, Daddy.”
A deep groan rumbled in Joel’s chest when that word fell from your lips, and soon he’d hooked a hand under your leg to hoist you into his lap. A giggly squeal fell from your lips at his manhandling, but you couldn’t deny how much it turned you on – to let him have his way with you, to let him take what he wanted, what he needed.
Less than a second later, his mouth was on you again, his lips pressed hard against your own as both his hands fell to rest over your ass. Under you, you felt the familiar shape of his cock harden, and you couldn’t help but buck your hips, feeling a surge of arousal pool in your tummy.
“There you go, sweetheart, good girl,” he mumbled between kisses, urging you on “grind on Daddy’s cock, baby, that’s it– just like that.”
Wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself, you broke away from his lips. The building pleasure felt so good already, and you had to duck your face into his neck to hide the small whines from falling from your lips. A heavy hand came down on your back, to hold you closer as he soothed over your skin.
It all felt so good, Joel felt so good, so safe. The rough denim of his jeans rubbed perfect over your clit, and you could feel the pressure of an orgasm coiling in on itself in your core.
Chasing that high, your movements got slightly needier, not as practiced and steady, and Joel sensed the shift in you. “Good girl, baby– you’re such a good girl for Daddy,” he praised, the words tickling your ear. He knew just what to say to make you wet, and needy for him. The gusset of your panties now soiled in your dripping arousal.
“Please, Daddy,” you whimpered, but you didn’t know what for. For him to allow you to cum? For him to have his way with you? For him to fuck you? All of the above?
“Please, what, honey? What’d you need?” Joel coaxed; his voice laced with condescending pity.
“Please, I need to feel you– feel your cock inside,” you whined into his neck, any modesty inside you had melted away as soon as he’d pulled you into his lap.
“Yeah?” he murmured gently, and you could only nod – your brain too empty to focus on anything other than Joel. “But Daddy’s tired, baby, he’s had a long day.”
The whine escaping you made Joel laugh, the deep rumbling of his laugh vibrated against your chest. He was playing with you, you knew that, but it had been so long since you’d been fucked by him – over a week – and desperate didn’t even begin to cover how you felt right now.
“I’ll tell ya what, pretty girl, Daddy’s got an idea,” he told you, with a gentle smack! to your ass. You sat up a little and shifted yourself down his thighs slightly, before your eyes, laced with curiosity, found his dark ones. “Why don’t you go get the wand from our bedroom, and Daddy’ll take care of ya, huh?” he posed; his large hand cupping your cheek.
“O-okay,” you nodded, a little confused about his plans. Didn’t he just say he wanted you?
There was no need in questioning him. You already knew whatever idea he had in store for you tonight, he’d make you feel good. So, like the good girl you wanted to be, you did as you were told.
When you got back to the living room Joel were still sat in the same spot on the couch, but in your absence he’d undone his jeans. With one arm slung over the back of the sofa, his legs spread wide, he watched you as he wrapped a large hand around himself to stroke at his impressive cock in lazy strokes.
“Come sit in my lap, baby,” he gestured with his other hand.
Just as you were about to straddle him again, he stopped you with a hand on your hip; his finger hooking roughly into your sweatpants.
“Off,” he ordered and took the wand from your hand.
Again, like a good girl, you did as you were told.
Turning around a small giggle fell from your lips when you decided to put on a little show for him. Slowly, and teasingly, you hooked your fingers into the elastic of your sweatpants, pulling them down slowly to reveal your underwear while you wiggled your ass sightly back and forth. A knuckle brushed over the curve of you; making you jump from the sudden touch before a smile blossomed across your face.
“Pretty, baby,” you heard him murmur, “such a pretty girl.”
Then his finger hooked into the elastic of your panties to pull them down to expose your wet and needy cunt for him. Biting down on your bottom lip, you fought to hide the moan threatening to escape when you felt the wide pad of his thumb run from your hole down through your slick folds, spreading you apart for him.
“Lookit this pretty pussy– it wants some attention, doesn’t it? It’s drippin’ for me and I ain’t even touched it yet– poor thing.” Joel said it softly, but there was still with a hint of condescension in his voice, “Been so long since Daddy’s taken care of you, hasn’t it?”
You grinded your ass into his hand, “Yes, please touch me, Daddy.” Looking at him over your shoulder, you put on your best puppy-eyes and exaggerated pout. Maybe it was over the top and silly, but it pulled a breathy laugh from Joel.
“Alright, pretty girl,” he conceded, and wrapped a large hand around your waist to turn you around.
“Come here… Spread those pretty legs apart f’me.”
He pulled you down in his lap, your legs spreading wide across his thick thighs and putting your dripping core on full display for him. Small currents of electricity cursed through you as your whole body buzzed with anticipation of what would come next. Of what Joel’s idea was. Flitting your eyes nervously to the wand he’d tossed aside beside him, your head spun, conjuring up all kinds of dirty scenarios.
When Joel was pleased with how you were seated in his lap, his right hand came up to cup your chin and angle your face towards him. His dark eyes shone with lust, but it was clouded over like a veil; you knew him well enough at this point to recognize the affection behind it. Like a reflex it made the corner of your lips pull up into a smile, a smile straining against his loose grip on your chin.
“What you smilin’ about, huh?” he questioned, head tipping in a curious tilt.
“Nothing,” you smiled.
“Nothin’, huh? Don’t look like nothin’ to me,” he shook your head playfully with no real force; just moving your head in his hand.
“Just love you is all,” you shrugged. It was the truth after all.
Your confession pulled a smile over Joel’s face; the dark black in his eyes giving way for a lighter loving brown for just a second.
“I love you too, baby,” he said and leaned forward to place a quick peck to your lips.
He pulled away too quickly for your liking and you whined, chasing after his lips, but Joel only chuckled at you, keeping your chin cupped in his hand. Leaning closer to your face again, you thought he’d grant you another kiss, your pathetic whining having won him over. Instead, he bumped his nose against yours and whispered against your lips, “Touch my cock, baby.”
A breath hitched in your throat, the low rumble of his voice searing through your body and making your blood run hot with arousal. It clouded your mind, and you almost had to take a second to understand what he’d just told you. Joel turned you on so bad, the bubbling warmth of arousal in your core now having turned into an almost painful ache. You didn’t want him anymore, you needed him.
When your brain finally caught up, your hands moved by their own accord, wrapping one around his aching cock, while the other steadied yourself on his shoulder. His cock was so big, always so big. The first time he’d had you on your back, you’d wondered how it was even gonna fit inside you, but now, now your cunt ached to be filled by him just at the sight of him in your hand.
Joel fell back against the couch cushions, the hand on your chin travelling down your body to rest over the thick of your thighs. “That’s right, baby, you take that cock in your hand, that’s a good girl,” he praised, while his fingers traced encouraging shaped into your bare skin, “Spit on Daddy’s cock– get it nice and wet.”
Leaning forward slightly you let a blob of spit spill from your lips and drip down to coat his thick head. Your eyes were laser focused on your task at hand, wanting nothing more than for Joel to feel good after such a stressful few days. Skating your thumb over the head, you mixed your spit with the precum that had started to pearl at his tip. It dripped down over your hand, and you tightened your grip slightly before you started moving your hand.
Up and down. 
Mesmerized at the movement of your hand and the wet squelch filling the air between you as you jerked your hand in a steady rhythm, you did your best to make him feel good.
“Just like that– that’s a good girl,” Joel praised in between strained grunts.
You had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep a wide grin to blossoming across your face as every small grunt and praising encouragement circled around your heart in a dizzying warmth. You touched him how you knew he liked it, setting a steady pace but also making sure to grip him a little tighter at the base, and massage the tip between strokes. You were detriment to make him come. He deserved it, you quietly decided to yourself.
Joel must’ve not agreed with you, because suddenly he was pulling your hand away, “That’s enough for now.”
The pout was on your lips before you knew it, and as soon as Joel noticed he raised an unimpressed eyebrow at you.
“No pouting, or Daddy’ll have to punish you,” he reprimanded, his hand on your thigh gliding over your skin to cup your ass in a tight grip. You jumped at the sudden touch, before you grinded your ass into his hand. It made Joel shake his head.
“Stand,” he ordered suddenly with a tap to your ass cheek, “and turn ‘around f’me.”
You let him maneuver you however he wanted, and soon you were sitting – half-way laying – with your back resting against his chest while he rocked his hard cock between the seam of your ass.
“Listen up,” he spoke into your ear, and you had to contain yourself to not squirm in his lap. “You’re gonna sit nice and pretty on Daddy’s cock and let Daddy have a little fun with this toy of yours– ain’t that sound good?” he cooed.
You couldn’t do anything other than nod, your head twisting into his neck. You felt like you were starting to burn up from the inside from the arousal that had continuing to build and build and build.
“Nuh-uh, need your words, pretty girl,” he said with a tap to your waist.
“Yes,” you breathed out, “please, Daddy! I’ll let you do whatever you want.”
You knew those words were the ones he wanted to hear. It was why the sex with Joel was as great as it was. You understood quickly that the control he wanted, the control he took, in the bedroom gave him a break from a stressful and unpredictable world. He craved it just as much as you craved for him to take it. You trusted him like no other human you knew; he knew you better than yourself, knew where your limits were, and how to push them just right.
After you sigh of consent, everything after was a blur of pleasure. He helped you lower yourself inch by inch down on his cock. The stretch of him always overwhelming, as the thick girth of him split you open in a delicious burn.
“That’s a good girl,” he praised in your ear, the words like sweet honey. “Feels good doesn’t it, baby?”
With him fully seated inside you, you could finally breathe. Nodding in a sigh of delirious pleasure, you reveled in the bliss of being so close to him, to feel the strong grip of his arm around you, and his large cock inside. In Joel’s arms, your thoughts and stress of the dying day, wilted away.
After a beat, you pulled yourself together and shifted in Joel’s lap; ready to start moving on his cock. His grip around your torso tightened at your movement, his breath tickling the back for your ear.
“What did I tell you, baby? Told you to sit nice and pretty on Daddy’s cock, didn’t I?” he reprimanded.
You didn’t have time to tell him you were sorry – you thought he wanted you to make him come – before he’d pressed the head of the wand hard against your neglected clit. You jumped in his arms from the sudden stimulation, your cunt clamping around his cock as a small squeal escaped you from surprise.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he cooed in your ear, “you can take it baby.”
You couldn’t, actually.
Not a second later, the intensity of the vibration had you coming on his cock. All the pent-up teasing, breaking like a dam of an orgasm, washing over you.
“There you go– squeeze your cunt on Daddy’s cock, let me feel you come all over it like a good slut.” You almost didn’t hear Joel over the overwhelming ecstasy of your first orgasm of the night.
Turning down the vibrations slightly Joel let you come down to earth again, but he never pulled the wand from your cunt. He made sure to hold it steady, easing up on the pressure with slow circles, before he pushed it a little firmer against your clit again.
“This is Daddy’s pussy, isn’t it?” he spoke into your ear, voice low and husky.
“Yes,” you whispered with a rock of your hips, “all yours, Daddy.”
Taking the hint, he turned up the vibrations again. It was intense, all your effort concentrated on the feel of Joel’s cock filling you up so perfectly while he quickly brought you closer to the edge of another orgasm. You couldn’t do anything other than take it – take what he was giving you, take the filth he was spilling into your ear.
“Y’hear how wet you are, baby? Your pussy soakin’ Daddy’s cock?” he emphasized with a shallow trust of his cock inside you  – the first movement of his cock since you’d sat down on him.
“Such a naughty little slut.”
“Is that too much f’you, sweetheart?”
With no warning you were coming again, your body trembling in his lap as Joel hushed your whiny moans and breathy mewls.
“Oh, my pretty girl’s comin’ again? Already? Don’t take much does it?” he chuckled.
A heat of embarrassment coated your cheeks at his degrading words, the realization of his words catching up with you as you came down. With a bite to your bottom lip, you leaned back into his neck. To hide? You didn’t know, but Joel wouldn’t have it either way. Sitting up a little a hand wrapped around your chin in a steady grip, angling your head to look between your spread legs.
“Nuh-uh, you watch what Daddy’s doing to his pussy.” He emphasized his words with a hard press of the wand to your clit, making you moan loudly. Your pussy looked a mess. Slick wet arousal had gathered in the thatch or hair at the top of your mound, the head of the wand glistening with you as Joel moved it expertly over your poor puffy clit.
“You’re gonna give Daddy another one, we clear?”
“O-okay,” you managed to stutter out. The intensity of the vibrations combined with your ever-increasing sensitivity now almost too much to handle.
“Repeat it,” he ordered, circling the wand perfectly over your clint.
A strangled moan escaped your throat before you could let a single word out. “I’m gonna come again for you, Daddy.”
“Yes, pretty girl, that’s right,” he confirmed with a rock of his hips. The tip of his cock nudged perfectly against your spot inside, and with the way he circled the wand, you were already tethering on the edge.
“But you come only when Daddy says. Wanna feel that that perfect pussy come as I fill you up with my cum– because that’s what you need isn’t it? Daddy’s cum inside?”
“Yes,” you moaned in a hitching breath.
He was so mean for making you talk when you were this close to tipping over again for him. Gathering all your self-control you held on for dear life to not come before Joel had given you permission. You gripped a hand around his elbow, your hand moving with his as you felt the vibrations from the wand travel through you. You were squirming now, and you were sure that if you didn’t come in the next few seconds you’d die.
In your ear Joel’s heavy breaths got more labored. “Y’want Daddy to fill up this messy pussy with his cum?”, he panted in your ear, his hips rocking into yours, “Then you have to be a good little slut and come again f’me.”
As the last syllable left his lips, everything melted together in a mixture of Joel. Squirming in his lap, you clenched hard around his cock as you came. The slick of your numerous orgasms dripped from your hole split opened by his cock, and down the heavy sack of his balls.
“That’s it,” he praised, “That’s a good girl– take all that cum inside.” His cock twitched as he emptied himself inside your cunt, painting your walls and finally filling you up with his cum like he’d promised. You had no choice but to take it – not that you’d wanted it anywhere else.
When your breath started to come back to normal, and your heartbeat slowed, you managed to tap tiredly at Joel’s hand. He was still pressing the wand to your clit making you squirm away from the vibrations – this time it was too much.
“Joel,” you warned in a high-pitched voice.
Joel loved to push your limits, but he was never cruel about it. With an endearing chuckle, he turned the wand off and tossed it aside on the couch cushion before he wrapped both his hands around you.
“I think I could’ve pushed another from ya,” he teased with a playful bite to your ear.
Inside you, you could feel his cock softening as his heavy release started to drip out down the length of him.
With a breathy laugh you leaned deeper into his chest,
“You can always push another from me.”
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i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!
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shellshocklove · 3 days
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regardless of a myriad of other AI discourse talking points i'm not touching with a 10 ft pole, i think it should always be disclosed when i'm looking at something AI generated. like that's a basic level of societal courtesy, right. AI images more than any new technology that has changed the course of humanity seem to be inseparable from a purposeful obfuscation of their origin. the gimmick is to deceive human perception, their entire purpose is to make you believe you are looking at something created by sentience. AI is at its core a tool for deception and i mean that as a neutral statement. it's a mimic, a pantomime. impersonation. and that is, ethics aside, annoying as all fuck
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shellshocklove · 4 days
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the dashboard the last few days filled with kink discourse:
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meanwhile me: writing my silly little daddy!dom!joel smut fic
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shellshocklove · 6 days
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fetishizing that old man’s self destructive tendencies
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shellshocklove · 9 days
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Been thinking about them ✨🥺
(Them being ‘I want to forget’ series but tumblr doesn’t let me link)
How are you bestie, hope life been good to you! 🫶
-🍁
hi bestie <3 booo tumblr 👎 for not letting you link
i hope you've been well <33
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shellshocklove · 9 days
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I'm sick of internet negativity, so let's combat it: reblog this and saying something nice/pay a compliment to the prev in the tags.
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shellshocklove · 11 days
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soft launched a new fic series on ao3 btw if anyone is interested 🫶🏼 link in my bio and on my masterlist
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shellshocklove · 11 days
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oh dee i'm honored to be tagged here 🥺💓 thank you so much!! i know we've barely interacted but you have such an wonderful blog, and from what i can tell from it i think we have a lot in common (at least musically 🤪). also you're such a talented writer!! keep being your lovely self <3
(a late) @swiftiscruff gift exchange 🫧
i know i’m late - but i want to share some love for the people i have met in this community. i joined this fandom during a really difficult period in my life. i had moved home to live with my parents, heartbroken, and was failing my masters degree thanks to an abundance of external and psychological intrusions.
being welcomed into this community from pretty much the get go reminded me of all the good things around me at a time that i seemed to be overwhelmed with the bad. every interaction, from likes to reblogs to messages or shared horniness at 3am has given me a sense of belonging and friendship i didn’t even realise i so needed.
isn’t it so wonderful that creativity in its entirety is enough to bring people together? forget time zones or age groups or upbringing or occupation, we all share a need and desire to create and share and bond and lift one another as high as we possibly can.
so here’s to you all, the ones who have affected my life - big or small - in any way whatsoever during the past year. whether we’re friends, mutuals, ships passing in the night or have never even had a real conversation, i love you all and will never take any of this for granted.
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@chaotic-iguana @nostalxgic @ilovepedro @mrsmando @dustydaddyyy @chaotic-mystery @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @joelsgreys @sapphic-gardn @party-hearses @planet-marz1 @joelscurls @swiftispunk @amanitacowboy @wannab-urs @atinylittlepain @hier--soir @softlyspector @bastardmandennis @beskarandblasters @limerence4u @persephone-girl @daydreamingmiller @sunspearesque @5oh5 @bornbetter @chiogarza @bageldaddy @janaispunk @pascalpvnk @shellshocklove @beardedjoel @joels-darlin @morallyinept @girlinterrupted1999
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shellshocklove · 15 days
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@swiftiscruff: FRIENDSHIP EXCHANGE -> Javi Peña in green for @dustydaddyyy
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shellshocklove · 15 days
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i really appreciate the more realistic view on sex in this!! it’s nice to read those in between toe-curling sex god joel. anyways i still wanna fuck that old man 🫡🫡🫡
Stiff (no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader - age gap)
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Moth's Masterlist // Add yourself to the tag list
pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: E!!! 18+MDNI
summary: As Joel's getting older, his body isn't working the way it used to. Luckily, you're happy to help him out.
contents: erectile dysfunction, age gap, anxiety, Joel is old (affectionate), m masturbation, oral sex, p in v sex, reader is able bodied but not described, moth never uses y/n.
wc: 2k
a/n: There was a post going around a couple weeks ago about Joel taking a long time to finish as he gets older. Well, I made it worse for him. Sorry to this man. Thanks @ezrasbirdie for betaing and being a slut for Joel even if his dick doesn't work.
...
Joel’s nervous in a way he can only remember from his youth. Back when girls’ bodies were a mystery to him. It’s his own that’s the real conundrum these days. 
He’s been seeing you for over a month now and he likes you. A lot. He wasnt sure he would considering Tommy set the two of you up and there were more than a few years between you. Joel hasn’t dated for a while but he’s glad he took a chance on you.
You’re a great girl. Knock out looks. Funny, smart. The kind of woman he wouldn’t mind introducing to Sarah. 
Only problem is, one day he’s going to have to fuck you. 
Not that he doesn’t want to. He’d love to. He’s thought about it more than he should. 
He imagines how warm and tight you’d feel around him as he tugs at himself in the shower. Pictures your pussy swallowing him whole. Sometimes he thinks about what your mouth would feel like, those beautiful lips wrapped around him. 
But he’s too chicken shit to do it. 
He’s getting up there. 56 years old and his dick doesn’t work the way it used to. It happens every once in a while, no matter how horny he is. Things just go soft.  
He’s already self conscious about seeing a younger woman. He’s caught himself examining the grey hairs at his temple before a few dates. Maybe it’s time for some Just For Men. Silver hairs are one thing. He doesn’t think he can withstand the humiliation he’d feel if he couldn't make it to the finish line with you. 
The worst part is, you want it. There’s no playing coy with you. You don’t hesitate to invite him back to your place after drinks. You initiate deep, lurid kisses in his truck. You wear slinky lace panties that beg to be seen.  
You must think he’s some kind of saint the way he’s insisted on going down on you with no reciprocation. Each time you reach for the fly on his jeans, he demurs. 
“That’s alright, darlin’. Just want you to feel good.”
His cock throbs, balls ache. 
He wants to do it, to plunge into that pussy he’s made all messy and wet. But he’s terrified he’ll start and find himself dying inside of you, shriveling up like a raisin. Thirty years ago, he wouldn’t have lasted five minutes. Now, he’s afraid he can’t keep it up. He’ll never hear from you again when you realize he’s an old man with a limp dick. 
Tonight you asked him over to watch a movie. He knew exactly what that meant. It’s been playing in the background for thirty minutes as you climbed into his lap to kiss him. You slide yourself rhythmically across the growing lump in his pants, slow, steady strokes. He can feel the heat of your pussy through the fabric and, fuck, he wants you.
He holds your hips against him so you can get more friction and you moan. You can use him to get yourself off and maybe that’ll be enough.
“Joel, I want you to fuck me,” you breathe against his ear.
“Yeah?” he asks. He’s buying time, trying to think of an excuse.
“Please don’t make me beg,” you whine.
He looks at you, all disheveled and needy. You’ve stripped off your shirt and your bra strap hangs off of one shoulder. Your body feels so soft on his. It’s too much to take. He swallows hard. 
“Let’s go to your room,” he says. 
There’s more time for preamble once the two of you have changed locations. More kissing to get back into the swing of it, clothes coming off piece by piece. 
Joel makes one more last ditch effort to snake between your legs mumbling something about getting you ready. You stop him. 
“I’m already soaking for you,” you whine. 
He gives up. 
“Do you have a condom?” he asks. Maybe you won’t and he can pretend the one in his wallet doesn’t exist. 
“You don’t have to. I’m on the pill,” you say. 
Joel hates himself. You’ve practically gift wrapped your pussy and put it on a silver platter for him. He should be elated for this. 
You sense his hesitation and your brows knit together. 
“I’ve been tested. But we can use a condom if you want,” offer like you’re trying to save him the embarrassment of admitting he has a venereal disease. 
You look like you’re about to ask him why he’s acting so squirrelly and he’d rather drive off a cliff than say it out loud. 
“Nuh uh. I wanna feel all of you,” he says. 
Despite his anxiety, it’s true. He’s fantasized about this moment as much as he’s dreaded it.  
You recover quickly, giggling with anticipation as Joel settles between your thighs. 
In the soft clutch of your cunt, Joel has no regrets. It’s absolute bliss. He’s not sure he’s capable of being anything other than hard inside of you. 
“That feel good?” you coo. 
“Fuck,” is the only answer he’s capable of. 
You clench around him, egging him on, and he lets out a groan. He rolls his hips back and plunges his cock deeper. The heady feeling of being surrounded by you is perfection. 
He’s ravenous for you. He buries his face in your tits, grips onto the bend in your knee, bites at your jawline. Each time he denied himself this pleasure has made him exponentially aroused. 
The sounds that come from you drive him crazy. Little moans and whines with each thrust. You weave your fingers into his hair and dig your fingernails into his shoulder. 
“Take it so good,” he grunts. “Pretty little thing.”
He shouldn’t have waited for this. He should have fucked you every time you opened your legs to him. He should have gotten those pills so he could go on fucking you until you had tears in your eyes. 
And then it happens. He keeps driving his hips into you but he can’t reach as deep, isn’t being hugged with that snug fit. First frustration fills him. Then utter humiliation. 
You can tell. He knows you can. You’re not making as much noise and when he dares to look at your face, he sees the slightest hint of concern. 
He’s sweating from his exertion but a chill runs down his spine. Shame and fear, despair. It feels like the rug has been pulled out from his feet. 
“Shit. Need a break,” Joel says. 
“Yeah,” you respond. 
He’s breathless when he rolls off of you. He fists his cock, willing it to spring to attention. 
“It ain’t you he insists. You’re— fuck, you’re incredible. Gorgeous.” His head falls back against the pillow as he tries to regain his breath. 
He can imagine you having cosmos with your girlfriends, telling them all about the old geezer that couldn’t fuck you porperly.
“I ain’t a young man anymore.”
It feels like another nail being driven into his coffin. He notices his age more and more. His back hurts, knees complain. Tommy ribs him when he sits on palettes of tile with a groan. 
Just as Joel feels like he’s got one foot in the grave, you speak up. 
“I’m glad you’re not,” you say. You’re trying to catch your breath too. “Joel, I've never come with a guy my age. Most of them won’t even eat pussy.”
That only adds to his self loathing. 
“I was just— I was trying to avoid this,” he admits. 
It doesn’t feel right to accept your praise when he had ulterior motives. You sit up on your elbow, you other hand gliding across the plane of his chest.
“So you wouldn’t have gone down on me?” you say. 
“No. Course I woulda,” he says. 
“Even though it took me, like, 45 minutes to finish?”
“That’s alright,” Joel says. He’d loved every second of it, his cock begging for relief as you writhed under this tongue. “I don’t care how long it takes you.” 
“Well, me either,” you assure him. 
You’re circling his damp skin with a soothing touch and your hand inches down his belly. 
“You still want to come, right?” you whisper. 
He nods. The need is still there, just as it has been from the very first time he kissed you. He’s touched himself to the thought of you but it’s never been enough. He’s desperate for it now. 
You kiss him and bring his hand to cup your breasts. He’s not sure he deserves this— your compassion, your patience. But weeks of fear and embarrassment begin to melt away as Joel focuses on the taste of your tongue, the warmth of your skin under his touch. 
“I bet I can get you hard,” you purr. The fine edges of your teeth rake against his earlobe before you get up. 
You swing your leg over to straddle his middle, your back facing him. He runs his palm up your bare skin, from your hip as far as he can reach to your shoulder blade. A beautiful expanse of delicate skin, coated with a sheen of perspiration. You look at him over your shoulder with a seductive look, eyes hooded, bottom lip caught in your teeth. 
He groans and grips a handful of your ass. You respond by arching your back. 
“Can I tell you something?” you ask. 
“Uh huh,” is all that he can manage. 
“I was so excited to see you, to do this, last night I was touching myself,” you admit. 
“Yeah?” 
The thought of it increases the arousal that’s already coursing through him. You, twisting in your sheets, fingers coated in that sweet slick. Or maybe you used a toy— a smooth little purple thing or maybe one of those big wands that could jackhammer the knots out of his back. Filthy images fly through his mind. 
“Not the first time,” you say. “But it’s not as good as the real thing.”
You lean down and through your legs, Joel can see the heavy swell of your breasts. Your peaked nipples sway against his lower belly. As your legs spread wider, he can see your pussy throbbing, convulsing. 
Everything is revealed like this. It’s obscene. The curve of your ass is presented, open so he can see your hole. Your lips shine, swollen and slick with release. Dripping for him.
If this doesn’t get him hard, he ought to give up and become a monk. 
You moan against him. It’s a little much, pornographic and almost silly but he needs it. Joel focuses everything on the sounds, the feel of your weight on him. 
“Put your fingers in me,” you command. 
Two digits slide easily into your cunt and you press your hips back towards him. Your breath catches with each rock of your ass. His senses are overwhelmed by you. Soon. Soon he’ll be back inside you, fucking you properly.  
And then you put your mouth around his half-hard cock. Hot and unbelievably wet, your tongue coaxes him on. Sloppy noises come from your lips as he begins to twitch back to life. 
It’s exquisite torture. The strain in his belly courses lower and he grits his teeth. All of this for him. An old man that ought to be taking those blue pills. You’ve become a little vixen to make him feel young again. 
By now his cock has awoken, harder even than before. Probably hardest it’s ever been. 
“Okay. Okay, darlin,” he pants. “I’ve got to fuck you right now.” 
You lose no time, pulling off of him and scooting down over his thighs, still facing away. You line his stiff cock up to your entrance and sink down over it. This new angle grips him even tighter and he hisses as you draw him in deeper. It’s an obscene view. Joel looks down his chest to see his cock disappearing within you as you ride him. He watches himself fuck you, holding onto your hips so hard he’s afraid he might hurt you. 
“Turn around, darlin’,” he manages. “Want to see you.”
You pull off and quickly flip around, your hand tracing his cheek once he’s back inside of you. 
“So good for me,” you say. 
The sight of you— radiant and triumphant— inspires him to press his feet against the mattress and fuck up into you. He’ll probably regret the strain on his back tomorrow but now, he needs to bury himself deep inside of your cunt before he loses it again. 
“Can’t believe I waited so long to fuck this pretty pussy,” he says. “You wanted it so bad. Filthy girl.” He’s babbling senselessly, lost in his own pleasure. 
The delicious tension and heat wind in his belly. Each thrust brings him closer to the edge. 
His orgasm hits him so hard he practically roars as he spills into you. His hips stutter, every muscle in his body goes taught. Just as quickly it unspools and he nearly collapses under you. 
You lay your head on his shoulder, your palm pressing to where his heart beats erratically. You both struggle to catch your breath. 
“Not bad for an old man,” you tease. 
He lets out a tired laugh before hauling you in for another kiss. 
--
Comments and reblogs always appreciated! My asks are always open!
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shellshocklove · 16 days
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this had no business being so fucking hot 😩 obsessed with his pov. the pervyness just enough to not make it full on icky. and his mouth 🧍‍♀️ goddamn 🫦🫡 girlie is better than me i don’t think i’d been able to wait lmao
oasis
dbf neighbor! joel miller x f!reader. one shot.
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main masterlist | ao3 | kofi
summary: your dad's friend is tasked with looking after you while he's out of town. he ends up finding you somewhere you absolutely shouldn't be. blackmail ensues. 8.3k words.
for @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my genre was dark and the prompt was "please don't tell my dad!" thanks for the amazing challenge! 💌
warnings: 18+ MDNI! dark themes, joel is pervy and sleazy, age gap (reader is under drinking age but an adult so 18-20, joel's age unmentioned but he calls himself an old man and he's 50+ in my head), consensual but there are elements of coercion and blackmail so... (it's dark! okay!), unprotected piv, lap sitting, lap dance, thigh/crotch riding, orgasm denial, pussy pronouns, dirty diiiirty talk, cumshot?, reader has hair that can be pulled and wears lingerie but otherwise is undescribed.
a/n: this is less edited than my usual work but i hope i did it justice! it was very fun and silly to come up with this idea and i ended up loooving how crazy it got!
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Keep an eye on her while we’re gone, eh?
The words from your father ring through Joel’s ears when he hears the start of an engine from where he sits in his living room, his view on the plush couch offering a perfect view through the large picture window on the front of the house. Right to where you live with your dad, where he can see the lights of your car come on. Bingo. He’s got you now.
Obsession felt like a strong word, but Joel could describe it no other way as soon as you’d moved in across the street - your dad was a longtime friend and neighbor, talk of his little girl rampant for years before he’d had the chance to meet you. You were going to be going to college nearby, so you moved from where you lived with your mom in California down to your father in Texas, right across the street from where he’d had the pleasure of laying eyes on you for the first time.
Young. Supple. Beautiful. And so damn shy. 
He hated just how much it turned him on when your timid eyes would find his. The pervy old man who couldn’t keep his eyes off a young girl - what a god damned cliche he’d become. He kept tabs on you, at first not really realizing he was doing it, eyes peering out the windows to catch you on your way out the door or coming home soon escalated to trying to see into your bedroom window at the front of the house. His time with your father mysteriously seemed to double, then triple, any chance he could to get close to you, see you in your natural habitat, hoping to learn more about this special girl that had captured so much of his attention.
You dressed modestly, too - far too modestly for his liking - he knew your father was a strict man, and assumed just as much about your mother from the way your dad talked about his ex-wife. He never got to see enough of you, except for the few times you had on shorter dresses when the summer heat just got to be too much to bear, and those rare occasions burned themselves into his memory, a bank of images to pull from when he took a hand to his cock and thought of you.
He’s up in a flash, smiling softly to himself as he quickly slides on his shoes and swipes his keys from the front table, exiting the house and seeing your car still parked in the drive. You always sit there too long before driving off, probably playing on your phone, texting your friends, whatever the hell young girls like you do. All Joel knows is he’s grateful it gives him enough time to sneak to his truck before you can get too far, waiting until you pull out and start down the street before starting his own car.
Joel checks the time as he starts down his driveway and sees it’s well after 9:00 pm. Where the hell could you be going, you naughty thing? Your dad has a strict curfew for you, he knows, and if he’s tasked with keeping an eye on you, he might as well do it right.
So he follows you. You get on the highway, heading towards downtown, and Joel’s eyebrows raise as he turns up his music, cruising along behind you, so unaware as he sees the outline of your own head bopping along to your music when he can get a clear enough view.
When you finally park, the city streets bustling with people out late on a Friday night around you, Joel sits in his truck, eyes peeled as he watches you round a building, disappearing. Oasis, the glowing sign on the front says. It looks a bit seedy, this area of town, a bouncer on the outside that you’d given a curt wave to sending Joel’s expression into pure shock before a determined smirk crosses his lips.
It turns out it’s not as exclusive as having a bouncer would make it seem. Joel waits in line with the others, feeling a bit out of place but his appetite to bust you outweighs all of it. Not more than ten minutes later he’s inside, the dark hallway opening up to a massive room laid out in front of him. It’s busy - bodies everywhere, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and arousal permeating everything and Joel blinks to adjust his eyes to the dim mood lighting. A dance floor takes up most of the middle, crowded to the max as music bumps through the speakers, and two bars flank either side, fully packed as well. There are lounges everywhere - cushy leather couches with tables, and as Joel’s vision comes in in full, he sees more private spots along the edges of the room on a slightly elevated area, curtains closing them in.
Too busy taking everything in, he doesn’t even notice the most important detail right away - the waitresses. More specifically, the way they’re all dressed. Gorgeous bodies of all shapes and sizes, parading around in what is essentially lingerie - a lacy black bra paired with a matching set of panties, sheer black stockings and a garter trailing down their legs all the way to the heels that adorn their feet. Joel feels a twinge inside his belly, pulling low and taut when he spots one of the waitresses with thick thighs and a plush stomach grinding on a woman sitting on one of the couches, the receiver throwing her head back in teasing, pleased laughter before taking a long sip of her drink. He continues scanning the room, seeing another man closer to his age being straddled by a different waitress with one of the nicest pairs of tits Joel has ever seen in that same uniform, her hips swaying and grinding so close to his crotch as she gives him a lapdance.
Fuck.
His mind spins faster, blood going hot as it runs through his veins, his cock twitching under the denim of his jeans. It’s been too long - all the pining, the built up frustration, and he’s needy. He finds it hard to believe you’d just be out partying at a place like this, certainly not the neighborly girl he knows. Bringing over leftovers you’d cooked for you and your dad, always with a little treat on the side and a soft smile, your frilly socks and white tennis shoes, collars that never revealed much past the very top of your gorgeous tits. But it still made him fucking crazy, all of it. He wanted to be the one to ruin it, to see who you really are underneath all of the fluff and sweetness. Because at the end of the day, he knows he wasn’t imagining that glint in your eye that told him you had more to offer.
Joel shakes the distractions and his dirty, racing thoughts, eyes scanning the room for you, remembering his mission. He is about to internally ask himself the question when your appearance answers everything he needs to know. Slack jawed, he looks on as you step out from behind one of the bars, tossing a smile over your shoulder at one of the other workers as you start to move carrying a tray full of drinks. 
When you emerge in full, strutting your way across the room, you’re wearing it. The outfit. The skimpy bra and panties to match all of the other servers. Your coworkers. Oh, he’s so thoroughly fucked right now, he thinks in a rising panic. But then again, so are you.
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“Thank god you’re here! You’re seriously such a life saver,” Kristina says breathlessly as you breeze into the locker room. She’s one of the supervisors here at Oasis, the club you’ve been working at since the beginning of the summer. Sure, you were underage to serve alcohol, but the owners of this club seemed willing to turn a blind eye to a lot of things to gain good talent. Good pay, direct cash, and an insane amount in tips. Enough to pay your way through college, you hoped. Beyond all of that, once you’d gotten into the swing of things you found that you liked it, too. The power you felt in these heels, the way eyes followed you everywhere, you’d never felt so desired, so free or sexually open in your life. Although the only time you’d actually had sex was with your one ex-boyfriend, and it never felt like you do here - sexy, with raw desire filling the air, something so tangible you feel you can reach out and touch it sometimes.
You pull your shirt over your head, unclasping your regular bra and swapping it for the black, lacy one that lives inside your locker. Kristina stands nearby, unfazed by your bare chest as she thanks you. She’d called you about forty five minutes ago, begging for you to come in on your night off when another server, Rochelle, got sick right as things started to pick up. Friday night tips hadn’t sounded so bad when you had no plans apart from watching TV in your dad’s empty house, so it felt like a win.
“No problem,” you say, smiling at her. “Happy to help.”
“You’ve got section five tonight - Justin has Laura covering right now, just switch out when you’re ready, kay?”
You confirm, quickly finishing up your swap into your uniform, admiring yourself in the mirror with a soft smile, still getting used to the look of lingerie on you. You’d have been stupid to keep something like this in the house with either of your parents, not worth the risk if they found out about it.
The noise of the club blares, making you wince for a quick moment as you step out from the calmness of the locker room to the deafening noise beyond and get your bearings behind the bar. It really is busy, but all you can see is money when you glance around, admiring how full the place is tonight. 
You’re stopped in the middle of your flow after swinging by the bar to pick up drinks for one of your tables. It’s an extra flirtatious group of men who are practically ready to feast on you, but for all the poorly managed things about this club, they at least have a strict no touching rule with the staff that is enforced by any number of the security guards around. So you get to have your fun, keep your distance, and hope they pay extra for a lapdance from you and tip you well for it.
“You’ve got a, uh, private request,” Justin says, speaking quietly but leaning close to your ear so you can hear him. You pull back, a look of surprise on your face, a questioning glance that he confirms with a nod. “We’ll cover your tables. Room seven.”
Your mind spins faster as you walk towards the room. The rooms aren’t fully private, just a halfway curtain that gives the impression you’re more alone than you are. That luxury doesn’t come cheap, so whoever booked this room and asked for you must mean business. In fact, management hasn’t even put you on serving private rooms regularly yet, reserving that right to the more tenured employees until you work your way up the ladder. You smile, wondering who it could even be that specifically requested you - a regular that loved the banter you’d offered? A new customer who was drawn to you from across the room? It makes your heart skip a little, anticipation and a hint of nervousness coursing through you as you reach the curtain, stepping beyond to see your mystery customer.
Holy shit.
The sultry smile you’d plastered on fades right off your face, replaced with a deep set frown, your mouth open but unable to speak. Your stomach is rapidly dropping to depths it's never known before as your face starts to burn hot, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. Your arms fly up to your chest, crossing them over as some kind of futile cover of yourself, but his eyes are trained there unashamedly, seeing the way your arms have really just accentuated your cleavage. He’s spread out on one of the loveseats, completely alone, knees wide apart, lap open and desperately inviting when it absolutely should not be.
“M-Mr. Miller?”
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Joel was having far too much fun with this. The priceless look on your face that had wiped off the pretty grin you’d had was worth every damn penny he’d spent on this ridiculous room just to get you alone. You think you can cover up, somehow, but it only really offers Joel a better view of your bottom half, the lacy shorts style panties a treat for his weary gaze, the garters sitting against your soft skin one of the most enticing things he’s ever seen. He instantly feels his cock getting hard as his eyes rake up and down your body, settling on where your tits are now pressed together against your crossed arms.
“Mr. Miller?” you stutter out after a long, dense silence between the two of you.
“Don’t cover up on account’a me, sweetheart,” Joel replies cooly, threading his hands together behind his head, looking even more relaxed than when you’d first walked in. Your arms seem to tighten around you, the complete opposite of Joel.
“Wh-what are you -” you start trying to ask, and Joel notices how you suddenly look unbalanced, legs shaking underneath you. You attempt a step forward, bringing yourself further into the room and it gives Joel an even closer look at you, and god damn you’re gorgeous. Your skin looks flawless, so smooth and soft looking - the apex of your thighs coming closer to eye level as you move forward, all adorned by that lace that’s making him wild. He’s never seen anything close to this much of your skin before, and he has half a mind to grab you right here and toss you over his lap, taking everything he wants from you.
“Could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?” he questions you, enjoying the tease, the way he sees your face screw up a little tighter at the very valid point he was making. You’re caught, and there’s no way around it now, he thinks smugly.
Your face falls, eyes going to the ground and watching your feet shift nervously in your heels. “I-I get it. You made your point. I’ll go home, okay? I know I shouldn’t be here -” you stammer out, and the guilty look on your face tells Joel what he’d already suspected - your dad knows absolutely nothing about this job of yours. 
“No, you shouldn’t,” Joel says, but he makes no move to get up, keeping a steady, unrelenting gaze on you. When you flick your eyes up to him, he sees they’re watery, and it makes his insides twinge with a strange mixture of regret and pleasure as he sees the tears brimming along the edges of your eyes, the subtle panic he can see growing. 
“You’re bein’ very bad, ain’t ya? ” Joel tuts, and you seem to almost flinch at the words from where you awkwardly stand in front of him still, unsure of what to do, where to go. Joel feels that pleasure growing warm in his gut, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “I mean, look at that outfit, sweetheart -” Joel starts with a low whistle, sitting forward slightly so you can see just how much he’s admiring it, his eyes narrowed in inspection, the weathered lines in his face apparent with the way his brows are raised. “Thas’ a far cry from those clothes you wear on my doorstep, play actin’ a good little girl.”
“N-no! I don’t - I didn’t mean - I am good.” You’re more and more visibly flustered, your arms wrapping around yourself as Joel continues to tease you, intent on bringing you down a few more notches.
Joel gives you a condescending glare. “Darlin’, ain’t nothin’ good about this. Lemme tell you what I think…” He leans back again, staring up at you, not once inviting you to sit, and knowing you won’t unless he does - he wants to make you sweat. “You never got to have that rebellious streak w’ both your parents bein’ who they are, did ya? An’ you thought you deserved it, to have a little fun, didn’t you?”
Your lip quivers and you blink back another set of hot, embarrassed tears, eyes trained back on the dark, faux marble floors, refusing to speak.
“Didn’t you?” he asks again with more bite. Fucking brat. Good thing Joel had plenty of tactics up his sleeve to whip a wannabe brat back into a good girl, he thinks with a sly smile to himself.
“Y-yes! Okay? I wanted to do something… for me,” you finally admit, feeling yourself shake a little at his demanding words.
“Now was that so hard?” Joel asks, becoming acutely aware of just how hard he is, almost painfully so now that he’s been teasing you, fantasizing about this moment for far too long. You shake your head, still hung downwards in shame before bringing your eyes back to his. They look soft, youthful and desperate, and Joel has never felt so turned on in his goddamn life, all the power he’s feeling rushing right to his cock.
“J-just… please don’t tell my dad,” you say, almost quiet enough Joel can’t hear it over the distant bump of the music. But he made it out, the words he’d been hoping you’d say, the ones he knew you’d have to utter.
“I won’t,” Joel starts, seeing the relief flood your face, nearly laughing at how quickly you put stock in his words before even hearing what else he has to say. So naive. “But what’s in it for me, hm? Ain’t gonna keep a secret without a little… incentive.” Joel’s hands plant on his thighs, running up the length of them as he watches your emotions shift in real time, your jaw going slack, eyes widening and barely blinking. You just stutter, completely taken aback and Joel had expected as much - you’re too good of a girl to navigate a situation like this. Good thing he already has his next words planned and loaded up to help you along.
“Laps feelin’ mighty empty, y’know…” Joel muses, leaning back and spreading his palms out on the leather couch next to his thighs. You flash your eyes to his legs, then his face again, mouth gaping open, finally realizing just what he’s asking for. 
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You can’t believe this is happening to you. You should never have taken this job, kept such a big secret from your dad that you knew he’d absolutely kill you for if he found out. You were technically an adult now, but that didn’t mean you could just throw away his rules while you lived at home with him. 
And now you were being blackmailed by his friend. His very handsome friend, but you’re trying hard not to think about that right now. There’s no way he’s serious about this, no way he could actually want this from you? The neighbor girl, his friend’s daughter? Mr. Miller had always been kind, just a bit of a grumpy edge to him but he loved to joke around with your dad. You often caught them laughing together, too shy to have inserted yourself enough with someone who made your skin grow hot just from glancing into his dark, chocolate brown eyes. But without that buffer of your dad, here alone in the dim lighting of the club, it was like he’d become another man. 
“Y-you want me to…?” you say, blinking hard as you stare at his thick thighs and crotch, all spread wide open. It’s enticing - normally even with an attractive customer you find yourself thinking of it more as work - fun work, but still work. But with Joel… you’d felt heat pooling between your thighs as he observed you this entire conversation, the desire starting to outweigh the embarrassment you were feeling. 
“Paid for it, didn’t I?” he remarks practically, a nip of impatience edging his voice as you swallow hard and step forward. 
“Y-you don’t have to… we can get a refund if you don’t want me to do it…” you say, trying to remind yourself not to mumble, but your nerves are getting the best of you. 
Joel’s head shakes slowly, his hand drifting out smoothly from his body towards you, tenderly locking on to where your wrist dangles at your side and pulls you closer. Closer. Closer, until he’s pulling you down so that you have to bend down, coming face to face with him. Your cheeks burn, breathing heavy and stunted as the tension in the air thickens, his lips so close to yours. You can’t help but glance at them, the inviting curve of his lips drawing you in, but Joel’s eyes are elsewhere, peering down right between your bodies where your tits are on such display for him, spilling out of the bra at this angle. 
“Like I said,” he coos softly, eyes obviously drifting up towards your face, “I need a little incentive to not spill your dirty little secret, darlin’.” A smirk grows on his face before he lets go of your wrist, and you stumble backwards a little. 
“Y-you -” you stutter again, trying to counter him, but you come up short. “O-okay…” you mutter with a sigh, taking a deep breath before you hesitantly turn around, facing your back to him. 
Joel tuts immediately at your lack of enthusiasm. “None of that, gimme the full show, sweetheart, or the deal’s off.”
You huff quietly, taking a few steps away from Joel, readying yourself. He can see the change in your demeanor already, the more confident strides you take before turning around, facing him again. Then you begin your routine, practiced and ready, pacing towards him with a feline, graceful energy, heels clicking on the floor as you slip one leg in front of the other, heading towards him. You almost hesitate, pushing yourself through the doubt as your hand reaches out, grazing along his shoulder, moving inward towards his collarbone.
Your fingers drag along his chest, where one button of his flannel shirt is open, wishing you could delve your whole hand inside and feel the more than likely gorgeous planes of his chest. Christ, he’s so meaty, so thick everywhere you touch. 
A soft rumble escapes his chest before you turn around, grinding your ass downwards and then back up, teasing him by getting a little lower each time. But it’s not enough, he knows you’re holding back, your movements a little stilted and awkward. His cell phone is out of his pocket before he can think much more about it, snapping a photo of the way your ass is grinding down towards him, just enough of your side profile in the photo that it’s undeniably you. 
“Come on, know you can do better’n that.” Joel clicks his tongue, making you freeze, hovering awkwardly above him. “Do this for a livin’ lord knows how many nights a week. If you ain’t gonna give me what I paid my hard earned money for I can call your daddy right now… maybe jus’ text him this picture. What d’you think about that?” Joel asks, holding his cell phone forward and into your eyesight. You gasp, hands grabbing for it just as he snatches it away. 
“D-delete that! Please!” you cry out, feeling panic squeeze at your chest. Fuckfuckfuck you are so thoroughly fucked right now if Joel has photo evidence.
Joel smiles down at his phone, peering at the image one last time before pocketing it. “No can do, sweetheart. Now, I don’t really wanna have to ask again, yeah?”
You only gape at him for a moment longer before snapping your mouth shut and positioning yourself above his lap again. “F-fine. Jesus,” you mutter angrily, finding that the irritation you’re feeling is starting to spur you on as you begin to move again, feeling yourself turned on by Joel’s musk in your space, the heat of his body radiating towards yours in this close proximity. Not to mention you can sense just how turned on he is, how much this is affecting him as you move with more conviction, hips delicately swinging in front of him. If he wants a show, you’ll give him your best yet, you think with determination.
“F-fuck… attagirl,” Joel lets slip when you brush his crotch with your ass. He’s barely holding it together with your curves swaying tantalizingly in front of him, something even his wildest dreams likely couldn’t have conjured up. He’d never think he’d see you like this - so sensual, so fucking gorgeously in control of your sexual aura that it could make a man lose control. Your customers were beyond lucky, he thinks with a pang of jealousy shooting through him, making his blood boil hotter, his possessive side come out. While he’d been at home pining over you, thinking about you with a hand stroking his own cock, you’d been here - rubbing your pretty ass on all those lucky fucks and their undeserving crotches. 
The thought makes him insane, the image of you doing this to any other man, so when you lean back against him, pressing your back to his chest, your ass just beginning to grind on his jeans, his hands go to your hips instinctively trying to bring you down onto him, to claim you. You slow your movements to a stop, leaning your head back towards his ear so that you’re almost entirely pressed against him now. 
“Not s-supposed to touch,” you say, you voice the only thing giving away just how nervous you still are. 
“Don’t fuckin’ care, if I’m honest,” Joel huffs back quietly, his voice husky and breathless. You bite back a moan as his rough hands wrap around each side of your waist tightly and help guide you that last inch downwards, sending your ass fully rolling over his crotch. 
“H-holy shit…” you whimper when you feel the rough denim brush along the outside of your panties. You feel a flush run through you, your skin burning hot as you realize you won’t be able to hide how wet you’ve gotten for very long. It began slowly, just with his brooding, questioning eyes on you, now reaching a fever pitch as you’re in his space and feeling the prominent bulge in his pants. 
It’s been far too long since you were satisfied. Truly satisfied. 
Your breath catches as Joel fingers wiggle inward a little after hearing how much you’re getting into it, even closer to the waistband of your panties, the two of you facilitating the grinding motion together as you bear down a little more on his lap. Joel lets out a pleased hum, still somehow giving you the sense that he’s the one holding back now. His hands still have an air of respect to them, like they’re vibrating with the need to wrap completely around you and pull you to him, to roam your skin and grab at all the forbidden parts of you. 
When the thought flashes across your mind, you realize you want him to. 
“T-touch me…” you whisper, immediately clamping your betraying mouth shut as the words float out into the air. You hold your breath, waiting to see if Joel heard you.
“What’s that, gorgeous? Couldn’t quite hear you,” Joel says, his tone a low, mocking sound that tells you he’s baiting you, that he wants to play with his food before eating it. Your eyes narrow before they shut completely, rolling back when he forces your ass to move along his bulge again.
“F-fu- touch me,” you spit out a bit louder. “Please.”
“You poor thing,” you hear him tut from behind you, forcing your hips upwards and away before grasping onto your hands, turning you around to face him. “Can’t get us in trouble now, can we?” he asks tauntingly, his eyes giving you a heated staredown as they widen, almost looking sympathetic if there wasn’t so much of an appetite behind them.
You whimper, visibly whining as your face screws up, squeezing his hands with yours. Joel tugs, so lightly that you’d almost think it was your own idea as you start to come back down towards him, pressing the warmth between your legs against his thigh. You sigh shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly swing one leg over top of his and bear down a little more, straddling his thigh.
“We w-won’t… we won’t…” you breathe out, knowing it’s not the complete truth, but room seven is especially tucked back, hardly getting any traffic. In fact, it was known for bending the rules a bit. 
“She’s so needy, huh? You all wet for me, sweetheart, that it? She need a little relief?” Joel taunts, and when you open your eyes to meet his gaze, he’s practically pouting. Your cheeks burn at how desperate he’s making you sound, but your hips twitch of their own accord, sending a zing of pleasure up your spine and you whimper quietly again, giving yourself away even further. 
“Y-yes, Mr. Miller…”
“Keep on doin’ your little dance, pretty girl, jus’ right there,” Joel urges you, a hand finding the small of your back, the other locked onto your hip as you start to rock forward, then back again. Relief instantly floods you as your clit brushes against the ripples in the hard denim, making you move harder against him, mouth popped open in fresh ecstasy. 
“Close that mouth before I shove somethin’ in it, you fuckin’ tease,” Joel grits out, his eyes burning wildly, finally giving you a glimpse at how affected he is as he keeps his stare on your face, starting to sheen with sweat. Your mouth snaps shut, a stifled moan pulling from your throat and behind your closed lips, threatening to burst out of you.
“This ain’t against the rules? Havin’ a pretty girl ride my thigh?” he asks in cruel teasing, flickering eyes glancing down to where your hips are shamelessly rocking on him.
“I- I don’t - know-“ you choke out, your legs starting to tremble as the pleasure slowly, steadily builds deep inside of you. “I d-don’t care…”
“Riiight, she’s on her rebellious streak now, ain’t she?” Joel mutters facetiously, smiling a devious grin as he watches your face screw up in concentration. You truly don’t care, you can’t care anymore when whatever the hell is going on feels so good. Damn this job, damn Joel’s games, you’re going to get what you need out of this right now, too. Your head is thrown back as your whines and moans escalate, showing Joel just how close you’re getting. 
“That’s it, god you’re beggin’ for it, ain’t you? So dirty…” Joel’s hands grip tighter along your hips, starting to drag you inwards, towards his aching, clothed bulge. “Beggin’ for your daddy’s friend's cock while you make a mess all over his thigh, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought a good girl like you’d be wantin’ to get fucked by an old man?”
His words make you clench around nothing, the harsh tone making your insides twist in pleasure as you roll your hips a little faster. “F-fuck… I - I need to - Mr. Miller -” you plead aimlessly, feeling your core tightening, the obscene wetness driving you to full on madness as your pussy aches, cries out for Joel.
Your leg is being dragged over top of him, forcing you to fully straddle his lap, thighs stretched wide and burning at how wide you’re going to accommodate his huge frame. You’re in disbelief at the rough, needy noise Joel makes as soon as your cunt is pulled down onto him, Joel’s hands forcing your hips to start thrusting against him. You nearly lose your balance, wrapping your arms around his neck to hang on as he looks at you with determination. Hands planted firmly on your ass, squeezing hard as he relishes in the feel of finally having you like this, feeling your warm heat seeping through his denim right to where he’s desperate to have you most.
“Joel,” he corrects in his haze, stunting your hips to press down hard on his cock, sending a gasp flying out of your mouth at the sheer size of what’s to come. Your mouth is practically watering, so close to what your body craves now, what it needs. When your fingers graze the button of his jeans, he stiffens, seeming to snap out his lustful fog as he swats your hand away.
“Fuck… later,” Joel says suddenly, using every bit of self restraint to push you back, moving your heat from his bulge, the instantaneous lack of you devastating him to the core. 
Your brows quickly knit in confusion at the sudden change in course. “W-why…?” you whisper breathlessly, bringing your lips near his neck, kissing the rough skin, working your way up to his patchy, gray flecked beard. His hand is at the back of your head, yanking you backwards by the hair, tearing your lips off of him in a brutal rush. He holds you there, the pull on your scalp starting to prickle harder as you sit staring at him like a tamed animal being held up by its scruff. 
“Can’t fuck you properly in here. Too many fuckin’… people. Prying eyes wantin’ to see what all the fuss is about.”
“I-I can be quiet,” you retort, hating just how much it sounds like begging but the hold he has on you right now is so intense, so inexplicable that you’d say anything, you think.
Joel huffs, a tiny, incredulous snort coming out of his nose. “No, you can’t. Not if I’m doin’ what I plan on doin’ to you. We can’t have anyone come snoopin’, can we?”
You shake your head, suddenly wondering if he’s about to drag you out of here, take you home to his bed, or your bed, you think with a shudder. You feel a pull inside your belly, thinking you just might let him if you don’t get your head back on straight soon. 
“An’ you still gotta work the rest of your shift, make your money, don’t you babydoll?” Joel says with a smirk growing, making your face fall completely into a deep frown. “Call it a little punishment for bein’ such a bad, naughty girl, yeah? Then you can finish up givin’ me my piece of the pie.”
You find yourself gaping at him for the umpteenth time tonight in disbelief. He wasn’t going to just leave you… like this? Was he? You can feel your clit pulsing against your panties, your body tense and wound up, on the precipice of coming so hard you saw stars only a few moments ago. 
“Up, now,” Joel says, shifting his legs so that you’re forced to move, scrambling up onto your shaky legs, feeling like a newborn fawn getting your footing again.
“W-wait… I already - didn’t I… give you what you want?” you ask, suddenly feeling yourself snapping out of the heady, lust filled haze Joel had you in. This was insane, right? You can’t fuck him, you shouldn’t. It wasn’t right for either of you, and you’d been crazy to have just been this close to letting him stuff you full.
Joel’s head tilts, watching your slightly messy hair and smudged makeup for a few beats with a discerning gaze. “Nah, darlin’, you just gave me what I paid for. This is what I want.”
Your heart and stomach sink to new depths. “N-no. Joel! You said… if I gave you the lap dance you wouldn’t tell my dad. And I gave you a hell of a lot more than that -” Joel stands, interrupting you, coming forward and crowding your space, his hulking mass like a tower next to you, shadowing you with his commanding energy.
“Watch your mouth,” he snips, a hand gripping onto your wrist. “I’m the one callin’ the shots here, an’ I changed my mind once I saw just how pretty that sweet little pussy of yours can be. So here’s what’s gonna happen…” Joel’s fingers come up to ghost along your cheek, trailing down your neck, along the swells of your breasts as he speaks. You can’t help but shudder at the attention, how good it feels on your sensitive, needy skin.
“You go on out there, tell ‘em what a great job you did in here, work the rest of your shift like a good girl, thinkin’ about just how fuckin’ wet you got these pretty panties, how bad she needs a little help from Mr. Miller.”
Your breath is caught in your throat at his words, hitching further as his touch skates further down, sending your hips twitching forward. 
“An’ I’ll be waitin’ for you after, darlin’, for what I’m owed.”
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Your heart pounds as you slip out the side door and into the alleyway, pausing to let the cool night air wash over you as you gather your thoughts. Your mind is at war with itself, one half of you knowing this is a terrible idea, setting you up for complete disaster in the future. How could you ever face Joel again if you two took it that far? Then again, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to face him in the daylight already, anyways, without your cheeks burning so hot they caught fire. The other half of you was winning, had been winning as you worked the rest of your shift in a complete daze, hardly recognizing your own movements as your body burned hot and needy, mind completely scrambled by the conundrum of your father’s closest friend coming onto you and more.
You spent the rest of your shift coming to terms with the fact that you do want to fuck him. So badly. Even if it’s wrong, a complete mistake in every single way. You also know your mind isn’t to be trusted right now, running on pure horniness and desperation, never having been fucked in the way you know Joel could. His experience, his power, the way his lustful eyes had drank you in like the sweetest balm - it was all too hard to turn down. You turn, looking the opposite way down the alleyway from your car, starting to think you might be able to sneak around the block and get in your car and drive off without him noticing, wondering exactly where he’s waiting for you. You don’t see a soul, hear anyone else in this alley apart from the distant music from inside and chatter from along the main street which is a far cry from where the employee exit to Oasis dropped you. 
You take the risk, heart thrumming wildly as you start down the alley, saying a silent apology to Joel in your head, and then yourself for letting this secret come out, knowing Joel was definitely not bluffing if you didn’t follow through on your end of the deal. Better to face punishment from your father than have to deal with the consequences of fucking his best friend and facing the feelings that would come after. You’re only halfway down the alleyway before a warm, rough hand is slapped against your mouth and an arm is draped around your middle and tugging you backwards. A wall of muscle meets you and you whimper loudly behind the hand, starting to yell.
“Shh, shh, no screamin’,” the voice coos, distinctly recognizable. Shit.
“Tryna sneak off on me, huh, pretty girl?” Joel says next to your ear, his neck craning down to breathe you in, groaning. It’s so feminine, so light and soft, the faded scent of your perfume and body wash makes him instantly mad with need for you. His hand slips down, giving your lips some room to answer now that you’ve stopped fighting him, leaning back into his hold a little more.
“N-no,” you choke out, lying. “S-swear.”
“Didn’t change your mind? Want me to send those pretty pictures to your daddy?” Joel coos, starting to walk you towards the brick wall of the building, pushing your body forwards until you’re pressed against the cool, scratchy surface. You hold back a moan when his body leans into you fully, completely dominating you as you’re at his mercy against the wall.
“I j-just d-don’t think we should -” you utter half heartedly, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, fearing what might come next after your suggestion.
“Why’s that?” he asks, dripping with condescension. “Seemed you couldn’t wait to get stuffed full of me not too long ago, yeah?”
“I-it’ll be weird after, w-won’t it? How can we… be around my dad? How can you?” You finally find your voice, your bravery, to ask him the question you’d been thinking the entire night.
A small chuckle blows past the side of your head from where Joel’s mouth sits against your head. “Think we both learned tonight I’m willin’ to keep a secret,” he says, his voice getting more harsh, a needy coarseness to it that sends goosebumps along your skin.  Joel feels a frenzy overcoming him when he notices your thighs clenching, how shallow and wanting your breaths are becoming now. He can’t wait much longer… can’t stand the torture he’s endured at your sweet teasing for a second longer.
“I-I want it…” you finally say in a harsh whisper, your resolve faded within seconds. Your ass ruts back into his hardness, an ache that hadn’t subsided in the least in the last hours as he waited for you. Patiently. Like he had already been all of these months. 
“You know I’m gonna ruin anyone else f’you, darlin’, don’t you?” he asks as his lips trace along your shoulder, now clad in a tank top that you’d changed back into. The bits of bare skin he touches taste like heaven, feel almost unbearably soft and inviting against his plush lips. He couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, but he couldn’t help but take it, anyhow. He could pay for his sins later. Your neck is next on his list, another supple spot of heaven to taste as he mutters the words again. “Don’t you?”
You just nod at first, dumbstruck by the feel of his lips, turning your head to try to meet them. “Yes,” you tell him softly, knowing it’s the truth, and there isn’t a turning back from this moment anymore. His lips are suddenly all there is, devouring your own whole as he takes in bounds, your tongues and teeth and mouths in a desperate clash, panting into one another as Joel starts to tug at your jeans, fingers flying desperately to tear them down.
You let him.
The second he’s pushing into you, you see bright white flash across your vision - that pulse of pain shooting through the very fabric of your being, your nerves lit up and screaming out from deep inside of you. Joel’s groan is barely audible through the ringing in your ears as he doesn’t stop, finding solace in your tight heat when he pushes himself into you in full. It’s heaven incarnate, you are heaven incarnate, he thinks, practically panting out the words as he feels your wet tightness pulling him in, walls pulsing as you adjust to the sheer volume that is Joel. Your cheek is crushed against the brick, mouth propped open in shock, the rough scrape on your face the only thing keeping you grounded as you whine out a long, wanton sound, something completely foreign to you.
“So… fuckin’... dumb on this cock,” Joel utters as he starts to move, a slow drag of his cock out and back in before he makes good on his promise to ruin anyone else for you, to never have a comparison to the blinding pleasure you feel rocking your entire universe as he quickly ruts into you. “Fuckin’ heaven.”
“J- fuck -” you stutter out, completely speechless. When one arm wraps around you, finding your clit, needy and puffy from hours of torturous edging, everything else melts away. The dark alley, the fact that you could be seen at any moment, the way you weren’t even sure you trusted Joel to keep your secret despite you following through on your end - none of it fucking mattered anymore.
“W-wanted this so bad, y’don’t know what you do to a man, sweetheart… Jesus fuck,” Joel says, uncharacteristically soft as his hips roll, sending your own bouncing onto his hurried fingers swirling along your clit. Desperation clings to the both of you now, hot and heavy air, hurried movements like this could be torn away from the two of you any second.
“Joel… I’m fu- I’m close, so close, please…” you rush out, feeling a pull of warmth at your center, his cock brushing along just the right spot to send you to that edge. You start to moan louder, the noise echoing in the open space around the two of you, your hand hurriedly slapping over your mouth to muffle it as the high starts to rock through you. His name screams from behind your hand, the sound still clear enough to send Joel to a state of crazed fervor, thrusting into you at an impossible pace, sending you bouncing harder against the wall. You twitch and shake, your eyes rolling back as you come harder than you have in months, maybe ever. Just like he’d promised, the absolute bastard.
“Fuckin’ creamin’ on this cock, shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” Joel marvels breathlessly as the obscene squelching of your bodies meeting only gets louder. “Oh, good girl, such a pretty, messy slut for a dirty old man, aren’t you?”
“G-god, yes, fuck… I am…” you whimper out with flustered nods, completely spent as you come down from your high, letting Joel use your cunt to chase his own now. You twitch at the overstimulation, your body still tingling pleasantly as he turns you into his own personal fuck toy, your body his for the taking. 
“Pretty as a picture, all fucked out like this,” he says slyly one hand planted on the wall next to you now, the other playing lazily with your aching clit. “Never gonna be able to give me up now, are you?”
You shake your head, lost in the moment with your answers as you feel another orgasm washing over you, less intense but still pleasant waves of pleasure rolling through while you gasp for breath, completely full of Joel each time he thrusts heartily into you, stealing away your air. 
“Please… c-can’t…” you mumble through your climax, hardly able to take the stimulation anymore but knowing the sick little part of your brain is happy to do it for him, let him use you until he’s completely spent himself. 
You don’t have to wait much longer for your wish, hearing Joel grunting, almost whimpering when he’s suddenly gone from you with a wet, slick pop, leaving you cavernous empty. He barely makes it out of you before his hand grips his cock, twitching in his palm as he comes towards the ground right in between your legs, ropes of cum coating your pulled down jeans and underwear, the brick wall, the pavement below you. His forehead is pressed to your back, sticky and hot as he catches his breath for a silent beat.
You’ve never felt anything like this, this satisfaction, this pure unadulterated filthiness and pleasure. The addiction already grips you, your poor, sore cunt already anticipating the next time he could ruin you. 
But then it hits you like a train, pulling you out of your reverent little bubble - this can’t happen again. It’s out of your system, out of his, and now you both have a secret to keep. You start to pull your pants up, the movement seeming to bring Joel to his senses, reaching down along with you. 
“Sh-shit, here, let me,” he says in a rasp, tugging your jeans up, the immediate feeling of wetness sticking to your body and making you cringe. “Little souvenir for ya,” he comments cockily, knowing his cum is now sticking to your skin, knowing that thought will sustain him for at least the next few hours. But that’s wishful thinking, he realizes, knowing that he could find himself buried in you the entire night, over and over again, considering hauling you away to do just that when you interrupt his thinking. 
“I- I’m sorry…” you mutter, not even fully sure of why you even say it. For some reason, you are sorry that you put the two of you in this position, even if it ended in something so incredible that you have a hard time even putting it into words. 
Joel spins you to face him, thumbing your chin and pinching it, bringing your face to look him in the eyes. They look a little softer than they had inside the club, more like the neighbor you’ve come to know. So charming and disarming when he wants to be. 
“Don’t be,” he says, leaning down to kiss you more gently than he had before, something tender and sweet that you find yourself immediately falling for, body melting into his as you hang your arms around his neck, wondering when along the way you started feeling so comfortable with this.
“Besides,” Joel adds, a devious smirk pulling his lips upwards. “Your daddy ain’t home for a few more days. Think we can find a few more ways to convince me to keep your little secret.”
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shellshocklove · 16 days
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she doesn’t want your damn peaches joel 🙄 men 😒
i really loved this!! you have an incredible pen!! <33
DAUGHTER LESSONS | a joel miller oneshot
masterlist
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summary: would it kill joel to just touch you?
warnings: established relationship, infidelity, jackson-era, no mention of age, angst
author's note: so... i have been disgustingly obsessed with COWBOY CARTER (duh! i have taste) and have fixated on the duality of daddy lessons and DAUGHTER, which thereby produced this lovechild of the two. you guys know i love me some religious imagery and angst...
Nothing could’ve confined you to a pew in your youth.
Your knees had breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of a blood-red kneeler when you were granted Sunday morning autonomy. Only your grandmother’s morbid prophecies of watching mass from above this time next year herded you between the rows of wooden benches at Easter and Christmas.
Maybe it was her you were trying to reach; chin tipped to the ceiling as if you would be overcome with the smell of potpourri and Irish coffee, heart flooded with all the right answers.
Still, nothing good came. 
“Didn’t expect t’find you in here.” His familiar drawl pricks at the hairs on your neck. 
“I was trying out solitude.” 
Joel had always moved with surprising stealth for someone of his build, but nothing he did these days surprised you anymore.
You had given him everything since meeting shortly after his and Ellie’s arrival in Jackson. It hadn’t taken long for you to witness his undoing. 
But this time, Joel doesn’t move. 
Rather, he stands in the middle of the aisle taking in the sight of you on your knees four rows ahead and to his left. Your hands are clasped so tightly together he can see the whites of your knuckles from this far back. 
Joel knows the back of your head more intimately than he probably should.
You have a habit of turning away from him in bed at night the second you were overcome by the smallest amount of fatigue.
Too damn hot you would mumble from your tenure of the mattress. And he can’t say he minded too much.
Often, he would reach a hand to your hair spilling across the pillow onto his side before regaining sense and propping the hand underneath his head instead.
During your waking hours, languidly reciting the steps of your morning routine around his small kitchen, he feels the want to touch you.
He wants to smooth down the hair that always bobbled around the raised birthmark on your scalp. He wants to feel your cheek against the knuckle of his right index finger. He wants to take the coffee cup from your hands and engulf them in the warmth of his instead. 
“She’s not here.” You mumble, so quietly that he’s not sure if that’s what you’ve actually said.
“Who?” He braves, wiping his sweating palms on the sleeves of his flannel shirt.
You respond with a scoff, confirming his hypothesis. 
Of course she isn’t here. You both know very well that she isn’t here. 
When Tommy had first introduced the two of you, he’d cornered Joel at the bar while ordering their third, or maybe fourth, round of drinks.
“She’s a good woman, Joel.” 
“I’m figuring that out just fine.” He’d smirked, taking a preliminary sip of his beer before glancing back at you. Your elbows were perched on the wooden table, chin resting on your palms as you exchanged low-looks and snickers with Maria sat across from you. 
“No, you don’t get it. She’s good. She’s kind. Her daddy’s the pastor here.”
“Not settin’ me up with a Bible basher are you, little brother? She gon’ make me wait until I give her a ring?” 
He’d felt like an ass as soon as he’d opened his mouth, which was made worse by Tommy’s unchanging expression. He didn’t look irate or tired of Joel’s age-old shit – the face behind his warning was unwaveringly sincere.
“Just don’t hurt her.” 
And in that moment, Joel couldn’t fathom anything as desacrating as hurting you. He had returned Tommy’s solemnity with a nod and carried your drinks back to your table; the remainder of the night blurring into the rest of his life.
He hadn’t fallen in love with you that night. Joel is stubborn in love, and it took months of langorous warmth to thaw his roughness. 
You didn’t make him wait for a ring.
Nights spent in symphony with one another were the only moments Joel could bring himself to touch you. There, he knew how to work his hands, his tongue, his hips. Not once would he hesitate in reaching out to smooth a thumb across your forehead. He moved like a river, flowing into your body in desperation to meet the ocean. 
And you wondered if he did it on purpose, or if he knew that he was doing it at all. Passing him in the intimacy of his home or the vastness of the food hall, you were only ever hungry for his skin against yours. 
Slowly, you crept into his skin through his pores. You made his days sweeter and smoother wherever and however you could, hoping perhaps one evening his fingers would brush yours as you set a plate on the table before him.
But here you rise, swallowed in the rosy light of dawn with damp cheeks and all faith robbed from your chest.
“I can’t do this here, Joel.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and attempt to put as much distance between the two of you as you pass him in the aisle.
“Then don’t. Come home.”
For a second he debates reaching out to you, wrapping you in his arms and letting you beat against his chest as your body racks with sobs. But the moment soon escapes him and he’s following you into the morning air.
“I buried my home a week ago.” You spoke flatly, bones void of any remnants of anger or fight. “You know what my daddy told me before he died?” 
He thinks he does. Moreso, he can hazard a guess. 
Nevertheless, he can’t quite seem to find his voice as you bring yourself to a halt. The morning sun peeks between the buildings behind you.
“Told me one day you’d play me for a fool. And look at me now.” You shook with breathy laughter. “He’s in the ground and there’s another woman keeping the man I love’s bed warm.”
Jackson would soon be rising with the sun. It had almost been a full day since you’d come home from patrol an hour earlier than Joel expected.
In truth, it hadn’t been the clothes strewn over kitchen chairs and draped over the bannisters. Not even the warm smell of salt and latex that hit you before you’d opened the bedroom door.
Joel’s fingers grazed the small of her back, tracing lazy shapes up and down her spine. Your stomach tightened into a small fist, losing all composure you had truly tried to maintain in your ascent up to the bedroom.
You had never even really been one to fight. Your father had taught you to handle yourself, and you’d learnt what was necessary to survive in the new world. 
Really, you wanted to pollute the skin beneath Joel’s touch. You wanted for him to never touch anything beautiful again; to never grasp at cold cotton sheets in the middle of the night; to never feel the slow threat of rain tapping against his skin.
Life began to creep in around the two of you. Ellie and Tommy would soon come looking for Joel to set off on morning patrol.
“One day, Joel, someone is going to give you exactly what you deserve. And I pray to God that I’m there to see it.”
You turn on your heel, leaving Joel to watch as your hair sways from side-to-side down your back. He swallows the lump formed in his throat and tilts his chin to the sky, blinking away the threat of tears moistening his lower lashes. 
He wipes his hands against his jeans and straightens his torso, forcing a low cough to clear his throat. 
Peaches, he thinks. Tonight he will bring you peaches, and he will watch as the juice spills from the side of your mouth. He will reach a thumb to wipe it away, and he will hold you. For as long as you let him; as long as he breathes.
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shellshocklove · 16 days
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frankie masterlist || main masterlist || graphics || wc: 0.5k
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Thinking about Frankie sneaking away to call you while he’s spending time with the boys.
Between their complicated schedules and busy lives, it can be hard to get everyone together in one place long enough to sit back and relax. It’s the first time in months that they’ve all been available to meet up, but the only thing Frankie can think about is coming home to you when the night’s over.
The boys are lounging in Santi’s backyard while the evening stretches on, thick with the warmth of the impending summer months. It’s late and Benny is telling a story that they’ve all heard at least three times before, evident by the way the others occasionally interject with their own versions of the narrative.
Frankie nods along and laughs when prompted, but it’s clear that his mind is elsewhere. It’s hard for him to focus on his friends when his mind is so desperately craving you.  
When there’s finally a lull in the conversation, Frankie stands and stretches with a groan before pointing towards the house with the excuse of grabbing another drink. Santi distractedly waves him off and asks that he bring enough back for everyone, but Frankie’s already halfway across the yard before he can finish his sentence.
He slides the patio door open and steps inside, grabbing his phone from his pocket and dialing your number from memory.
The phone rings twice before Frankie remembers the time and mentally kicks himself for calling so late, but the need to be close to you outweighs his self-abasement. He considers hanging up and shrugging off the ache that’s settled in his chest, but before he can make a decision, the phone finally clicks and-
“Frankie?”
“Hey,” he breathes, instantly soothed by the tired lilt of your voice, dampened by the sound of empty static.
The cool air in Santi’s house makes Frankie shudder as he turns and props his hand against the wall, folding in on himself as if to conceal his conversation, a precious moment caught between two worlds.
“Just calling to check in, and…” he trails off, eyes glued to the floor as he shifts in place, breathing deeply into the speaker. “-and hear your voice.”
Deep, boisterous laughter thunders through the open patio door and Frankie cups his hand over the bottom of his phone to block the noise. He thinks he hears you hum in response, but the sound is drowned out by the commotion outside.
“Are you having a good time?”
“Yeah,” he answers honestly, the corners of his mouth quirked into an easy smile. He tucks his chin to his chest and listens for your response, only halfway following what you’re saying. He hadn’t meant to wake you up, he just needed to know that you were still there.
The line falls silent and Frankie holds his breath. He considers thanking you for picking up the phone, but he knows his gratitude wouldn’t make sense. Instead, he listens for a moment longer and reluctantly says goodnight, content to return to the boys now that he’s had his fix.
“Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll be home soon.”
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shellshocklove · 17 days
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gideon!!!! congratulations on the milestone!!! absolutely so so deserved and i’m sorry I just now saw the post! 🖤
💭i’d like to request ''stay tonight.'' from the prompt list, maybe with ezra?? I miss him 🫶🏻
wonderful Liv! I'm so sorry this has been in my inbox since January. Me and Ezra were having a moment, but things are all good now. I humbly offer you this:
Starlit
sex worker!Ezra x afab!reader
694 words
Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI. sex work, oral (reader receiving)
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He is always the first thing on your mind when you arrive here.
The beautiful silver-tongued man with starlight in his eyes. Known by many and more than once by you, memories of him seared both on your flesh and in your mind.
Standards of travel have left you wanting, needing. Your fingers never work you the way another can, your touch never grips the way a lover can. Worst of all, the remembered whisper of his voice in your ear leaves you without the comfort of his warmth and sincere affection.
Ezra advertises his services as comfort. He sells sex, yes, but moreso he sells a few needed hours of companionship to the weary traveller, the tired prospector, the anguished fringeling far from home. He is generous with what he gives, not just in passion but in succour, in the intimacy of his whispered weaving stories as he holds you - he offers a piece of himself. Ezra provides comfort, and pleasure, and it is always more than worth the cost.
He is like an artist, you think. His art is being able to relieve the tired ache of your bones, and leaving your soul a modicum lighter than it felt upon arrival here.
There’s a stream of sunlight warming the bed as Ezra works between your thighs today. Your fingers hold in his soft hair with a gentle tug as he works what you can only describe as magic, that silver tongue finding it's way towards your second release of the day.
Your breath comes shallow; the way he flattens his tongue against you and stretches you on his fingers at the same time makes your legs shake in assailing delectation. He is a god, divinity in pleasure, and you thank you star that you came to find him on this miserable planet again.
You are, of course, just one of many but you like to think he doesn't look at the others the way he does you, the way his sparkling eyes meet yours as you look down upon him now, as he eats you like a blessed repast.
Your back arches, a gripping feeling of closeness tightening your core. His fingers curl, his plush lips sucks until you cry out and pull again. The room is hot and your bodies are warm, sticky. His own hips rut against the mattress as yours rise in increasing desperation. This gift of his, it takes you over. You are stardust as your body trembles, heart pumping wildly. The sweetness of release finally lays itself upon you. Oh. He is a god. Some spirit of heavenly pleasure.
You wish he could be yours forever.
You whimper his name over and over as you come down from a high unlike any other.
"Ezra...Ezra...my Ezra"
He kisses your twitching clit a few times more, never quite ready to give up your taste – he had told you before that he doesn’t do this only for the money but also for his own desires.
Finally he rises to lay over you, his body heavy and hot on yours, the hardness of him grinding against your soaked centre as he eyes you curiously.
"Yours?" He whispers, a devilish smile on his lips that makes you quiver again lustfully.
"Yes, mine...tonight?" You whisper, thankful that he understands it when you words are staccato and flustered.
You've never had him stay for more than a few hours. Never been so lavish with hard earned credits, but money feels no object right now as your cunt flutters and pulses at the thought of a full night with him. To wake up beside him is an experience worth all the money in the universe, you imagine.
Your fingers play in the white-blonde patch of hair. Curious, like him. You know little of this man and yet you want him in your bed for as long as you can possibly keep him.
He is a symphony of raucous desire.
“Stay tonight” You murmur, pulling him in to a searing kiss as soon he nods his agreement.
You know so little of him, but what you do know if that one night with this starlit man - even though it makes you poorer - will make you richer in heart and soul.
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