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bastardmandennis · 7 months

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wet dream

(business man! joel x f reader) | AO3 | masterlist

Summary: You have a wet dream about your sort-of boss, Joel Miller, and then get stuck in an elevator with him.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: SMUT (literally get out of here if you’re not 18+), afab reader, no y/n, some plot mostly porn, wet dreams, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, implied age gap, business man joel!, mentions of general workplace misogyny/incompetence (not from joel obvi), traffic, elevators, semi public sex, grinding, 1/4 of a blow job, don't read if ur claustrophobic probably, i think that's it but if i missed something pls let me know!

A/N: had to take a break from writing good dad joel™️ for some dream joel businessman smut©️. not even sorry xo

graphic made by the amazing @idolatrybarbie - thank you! ❤️

Warm, big hands wrap around your thighs, opening them wider so he can kneel in front of you, broad shoulders keeping you open for him. You pant, scratching at the sheets as he bites and kisses his way between your legs, avoiding where you want him most. The scratch of his facial hair feels so good, and you tell him, reaching a hand to try and grab at his hair. His hands run up your thighs, snapping the waistband of your panties,, and right as you think how much you need them off now, they’re gone, the air cool against your exposed skin. He grins against the skin of your stomach, nipping and soothing with his tongue until you’re arching to get closer, more more more, and he chuckles, a low thing that vibrates through your body.

His broad palm comes across your lower stomach, pressing and keeping you in place. Settle, honey, gonna give you what you want, don’t worry, he coos when you whine, gripping his hair and pulling. He pulls back slightly to stare at the slick pooling beneath you, on your thighs, on the sheets below you, and he tsks, running a finger up to collect it, watching the way it shines on his fingers. You close your eyes, embarrassed at the attention, and they fly open when he uses that finger to rub circles on your clit. Oh fuck, f- please, you choke out, and it’s like he reads your mind, pulling back to press two fingers gently into you, scissoring, opening you up beneath him. He leans even closer, breath fanning against you, never stopping the pumping of his fingers, searching for the spot that makes you cry out, nails scratching at him when he finds it and aims there. That feels good, doesn’t it, so fucking tight for me, gonna ruin you for every other man–’s that what you want, sweetheart, want me to open you up with my fingers or do you want somethin’ else? Gonna let me fuck you, stretch you out on this cock? His voice is low, rough, familiar, but the thought fades as he curls his fingers up, the hand holding you down pushing until the pressure is too much and you want to tell him but you can’t move, can’t speak as he brushes his thumb lightly across your clit, not enough to do anything but be a tease, but it’s enough, you’re almost there and he says yeah that’s it, go on honey, come all over me, and you lift his head up by the hair, wanting to see his face when you finally let go–

It’s Joel Miller. As in, your boss.

Your eyes fly open, breath catching in your throat as you blink, trying to make sense of what just happened. The throbbing between your legs, the wetness in your sleep shorts, that’s real but–all for…Joel? Oh god–you didn’t even think you liked Joel like that, not that he’s not good looking or anything, but you’d never had a longer conversation with him than a quick good morning in the elevator, or his polite thank you, darlin’, as you handed out copies of reports and expenses during your weekly meetings, the ones when he came down from his office on the floor above to listen in silence as your manager attempted to justify whatever was going on within the department. Just his presence alone was enough to make them sweat–you looked forward to it every week. You scramble for your phone, cursing when you notice the time–five minutes to get ready and out of the house or your boss would have a conniption. The man was incompetent on a good day, but without you to guide him–aka, do everything possible for him–nothing would get done. Ignoring the unsatisfied swirl of want you shower and dress quickly, grabbing an apple as you rush out of the door.

The one day you’re running late, of course, is the day everyone must decide they’ve forgotten how to drive or something, the stop-and-go of the morning traffic doing nothing to help the headache brewing behind your temples, a combination of stress and a lack of sleep. You keep one eye on the time ticking by and by the time you get off your exit you’ve got exactly three minutes to park, make it into the building and up to the twenty-sixth floor before anyone notices you’re not there. There’s a mishap with your pass when you finally make it inside, a combination of you swiping it too fast and a worn magnetic strip, and by the time you get through security the rest of the elevators are packed full, each door closing right as you run up, and right when you’re about to have a breakdown and consider climbing the insane amount of stairs, a hand reaches out from inside an elevator down the hall to stop the doors from closing. You rush over, sliding into the empty car with a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much,” you say, only slightly breathless from the run to the building. “Thought I was gonna be late, you really saved me.”

“You goin’ up, darlin?” A low voice, one that you immediately recognize–

That feels good, doesn’t it, so fucking tight for me, gonna ruin you for every other man.

Joel. As if the universe didn’t hate you enough.

He’s still waiting, a hand poised over the panel of buttons as he quirks an eyebrow at you. You realize you’re staring at him and look away quickly, telling him your floor number. The doors close as the hum of machinery fills the elevator car. You can’t help but look at him out of the corner of your eye–the scruff covering his jaw, hair wet and slicked back like he’d just showered. His button-up stretches tight across his shoulders, the top one undone, and the little peek of tanned skin underneath has your mouth watering. You’re being a creep, get it together.

“You’re on twenty-six, that’s advertising, right? Anderson’s team?” He crosses his arms across his chest and you drag your gaze up, nodding, not trusting your voice around him. He hums thoughtfully.

“Quiet little thing, ain’t ya,” he murmurs. The heat of his gaze is too much and you look away–all you can see when you look at him is the Joel from your dream, who’d teased you and talked to you in a low voice just like this one, and that just reminds you how unsatisfied you still are.

“I’m not–not really part of his team. Just a secretary,” you say, and you want to slap yourself when he looks back up at you. His eyes are dark as he searches your face.

He opens his mouth to say something and a loud screeching interrupts him. There’s a mechanical grinding noise, overwhelmingly loud in the small space, and you cover your ears with a wince. The elevator comes to a jolting stop and you feel Joel’s hand wrap around your wrist when you stumble. You hope he can’t feel the pulse beating erratically in your wrist, or that he just assumes it’s from being scared, not from him and his proximity.

The lights flicker once, twice, before going out completely, plunging you in darkness. You whimper at the sudden loss of sight and he smooths his thumb over your wrist. The emergency lights come on, bathing the small room in a red light.

“You okay?” he asks. You nod, and flush when you realize he probably can’t see the gesture.

“I think so,” you say. “Are you okay?”

You can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. He still hasn’t let go of your wrist. “’M fine darlin’, don’t worry about me. Gonna call for help, they’ll get us out of here in no time. Happens all the time, old buildings like this.”

He fumbles for the emergency phone, lifting it up and pressing the button to call for help. As he waits for someone on the other end to pick up your eyes adjust to the low light and you look at his profile, the way the shadows dance across his face as he shifts, jaw clenching as he speaks lowly to someone, presumably maintenance, and you jump when he slams the phone back down.

His thumb smooths across your wrist in apology. “Gonna be a while. Something about the circuit breaker tripping–whole building lost power for a second.”

You groan, shifting out of his grip to slide down against the wall until you’re sitting on the tiled floor. You scrunch your knees up to your chest and hide your face, trying to calm down. You’ve been wound up all morning from the dream, being late, and now this?

“I’m so fired,” you whisper into the fabric of your dress. It’s quiet, the distant mechanical whirring of the nearby elevators echoing in the silence. After a moment Joel slumps next to you with a low grunt. His hand hovers over your bent form and then he drapes his arm across your shoulders with a light squeeze. The heat of his hand, his arm, leeches through your thin cardigan and you can’t help the shudder that rolls through you.

“Hey,” he husks. “You’re not fired, hear me? Just an accident–could’ve happened to anyone.”

“You don’t know Anderson,” you say. “He’s been looking for any excuse to- to get rid of me, told me as much after last week’s meeting.”

He scoffs. “He’s a dick. Don’t worry about him. We’re not gettin’ rid of you that easy, honey.” He nudges your shoulder with his, a smile pulling at his lips when you give him a weak one in return.

Honey–that’s what he’d called you, in your dream. And holy fuck did it sound so much better in real life, when you’re so close you can hear the way his voice drops an octave in the small space, how intimate it feels to have him next to you. Just the memory has you leaning away, all too aware of the way your dress has ridden up your thighs, his thick leg pressed against yours, and his arm drops from your shoulder. You miss the warmth almost immediately.

“Thanks Joel,” you say quietly. It’s easy to be brave in the dark, which is why you find yourself asking, “Can I tell you something?”

There’s just enough light to let you see his head tip down towards yours, the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, lets out a low mhm.

“Those other guys, they’re always…well, they’re not the nicest. And I work with them every day, getting them coffee, copying reports, fixing their mistakes, and what do I get for it? Nothing. They don’t even remember my name, half the time. Unless they want to yell at me.” you sigh and he covers your hand with his own, smoothing down your scrunched up fingers as you continue talking.

“But you…I remember the first day I met you, and you made a point to remember my name, to thank me for helping out and I just–I wish it was you that I could’ve been working for this whole time.” He doesn’t say anything and your face heats, body tensing. Now you’ve gone too far, he’s gonna report this back to your manager and then you’ll for sure get fired.

When he finally speaks his voice is low, considerate, an undercurrent of anger leaking through. “Not right, how they’re treatin’ you. Tell ’em that every time. I fuckin’- I even put in a transfer request for ya last week.”

He’s already looking down at you when you meet his eyes, bringing your combined hands up to rub the back of your hand against his cheek. The low scritch of your skin against his beard does nothing to calm your racing pulse.

One moment you’re looking at him in the half-lit elevator and the next your mouth is on his, or his is on yours, you can’t tell who moves first and you don’t really care. His lips are soft and his mustache tickles, and when you open your mouth in a gasp he moves his tongue along yours carefully, deliberately, nothing like the sloppy makeouts you were used to from guys your age. The angle is awkward and when he finally breaks away you’re both panting, loud breaths that echo in the elevator and he sits back, gesturing for you to move to sit on top of him. You hesitate, maybe for too long, because he grabs you by the backs of your thighs and yanks you forward, until you’re chest to chest, knees spread out around the bulk of his thighs.

“This okay, honey?” he gruffs, and oh there’s that word again, honey, and a low whine forces its way up your throat as you nod eagerly. His hands wander around your body with ease, pushing your sweater off your shoulders to kiss the side of your neck, bruising the delicate skin with a nip that sends your body forward into him as he chuckles.

“You like that,” he says, and it’s not a question but you nod anyway, moving your hands up to rake through his perfectly gelled hair, messing up the once perfect hairstyle. Your hips rock subtly over his and he groans, gripping the sides of your cheeks to bring you into another kiss, a rough smash of open mouths, head spinning from the lack of oxygen.

“Joel, please, wanna see you,” you whimper, letting your hands trail from his neck to his dress shirt, rumpled from your hands as you fumble to open the buttons. His hands come up to grip yours, pulling them away with ease despite your protest. Whatever you were about to say dies in your throat as he bends his knees up, sliding you closer until you’re sitting right where he’s hard and thick for you, twin groans falling from the both of you at the contact.

“What d’you want? Not much time here, not as much as I’d, ngh, like–gonna let me- let me open you up with my fingers? Or you want my tongue, right here in this elevator, right where fuck- right where anyone could walk in? Think they’re watchin’ the cameras, wanna give ’em a show honey?” He keeps going, that low drawl in your ear as you roll your hips over his, grinding slowly as he plants his feet down, thrusts up into you, letting you feel the thickness of him even through his pants, your thin underwear. It’s so much like your dream that the feeling of deja vu smacks you in the face and you freeze, just for a second, but enough for him to notice.

“What happened, you okay? Do you not want to- it’s okay if this is too much–” you lean forward to bite at the hint of collarbone peeking out of his shirt, running your tongue over the mark as he groans low in his chest, rumbling through you.

“It’s just- this is so embarrassing, but I, I had a…dream, um just like this. This morning.” You hide your face in his shoulder, feeling them move as he laughs, lifting your chin with a finger to force you to look at him.

“Yeah? How much you give the guy downstairs to stop the elevator for ya, to make your dream come true today?” he teases, rubbing a thumb against the flush on your cheekbone when you smile and push his shoulder lightly, mumbling a low shut up as he laughs.

You sit up to look at him, and the added pressure has you gasping around the sudden throbbing of your clit, and his eyes go dark, grasping your hips tightly as he moves you back and forth, like that? he murmurs and when you moan, he bucks up, watching the way your breasts threaten to spill out of the top of your dress with every movement.

“Can you- your f-fingers, please,” is all you can say, and he presses two of his thick fingers to the corner of your mouth, a low open up for me that has you clenching around nothing as he presses them on your tongue, then further, letting your spit run down his wrist until you gag lightly and he pulls back, smearing your own spit on your jaw as he pulls you into another kiss. He rucks your dress up impatiently, letting you both see your tiny panties that are soaked.

“This for me?” he murmurs. You nod, yes joel all for you just for you and he groans, letting his spit soaked fingers slide down until they’re playing with the elastic of your underwear, snapping them back when you move, patience, honey, gonna take care of you as he finally slips his fingers down, letting his middle finger feel the slick pooled there, smearing on the insides of your thighs (and definitely his pants), just rubbing the outside to feel you clench around nothing until you say please please please and he shushes you, slowly pressing two fingers in as you gasp–his fingers are so much thicker than yours, so filling it’s overwhelming, and you lean back just to admire the scene in front of you: your swollen pussy leaking all over both of you, the back and forth of Joel’s fingers disappearing inside of you, the shlick slick shlick as he moves, the way the heel of his palm bumps your clit with each thrust, arm flexing beneath his button up. You have to close your eyes, tilting your head back and he tsks.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl, watch me stretch you out ‘n fill you up. This what you were dreamin’ about, lettin’ me fuck you here, bein’ such a good girl just for me, ain’t that right?” You hum, too focused on chasing the pleasure that’s been building since you got in the elevator with him, since you woke up from that goddamn dream but this–this is even better than anything you could’ve possibly dreamed, the heat of his body under yours, the little noises he makes as he marks the side of your neck, the thick heat of his cock under you and it’s too much–too much, gonna come joel, and he grinds his fingers into you, letting his hand rub against your clit and he says can feel you suckin’ me in, ’s okay honey, i’m here go ahead, and that–the permission–sends you over the edge, soaking his hand and his pants as you come down slowly, his fingers just resting in you, in no rush to move as he presses tiny quick kisses over your face, your cheeks, the tops of your breasts as you gasp for breath.

“Wow,” you finally say.

He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “Everything you dreamed of?”

“And then some,” you say shyly. “Can I- can I touch you?” You let your hand trail down to the button of his pants, waiting for permission.

His groan is low, as if he’d forgotten all about how hard he was until now, a fuck yes, go ahead tumbling from his lips as you unbutton his dress pants quickly, reaching a hand in under his briefs to grasp the heft of him. He’s big, thick and leaking an extreme amount of precome and he grunts when you grab him, throbbing in your hand at the simple touch. It makes your head spin, the way he’s so affected just from touching you.

“Not gonna- shit, last so just–here,” he grabs your hand out of his pants, licking to wet your palm and shoving it back down, the slide smoother now as he thrusts up into the circle of your hand and you lean into him, scratching your nails through the stubble under his jaw and his head drops back against the wall with a low thunk. “Where do you want it?” he grits, and you can feel him pulse in your hand when you say my mouth, want you in my mouth, and he replaces your hand with his own, moving faster as you slide back until your mouth is hovering over him, sticky tip catching your cheek as he jerks himself roughly, a smear of precome that’s visible even in the low light and he stutters, groaning as you lean forward to cover his tip with your open mouth, pulsing into your mouth for what seems like forever, pulling back with a hiss when you keep sucking.

“Fuck,” he says, watching as you tuck him gently back into his pants, smoothing your dress back over your thighs. His shirt is a lost cause, wrinkled beyond hope from your hands and being on the floor but you do your best to fix it for him, lingering on the firmness of his chest as you move your hands over him. He grabs your hands, pressing kisses to your fingertips as you giggle.

“Wait–do you hear that?” He shushes you as you both strain to listen and then you hear it–the low groaning of mechanics, the lights flickering back on as you watch the elevator numbers light up as you finally start moving again. You sigh in relief and you both quickly stand up, smoothing out each other to look somewhat presentable. He stoops to grab your sweater from the ground, brushing it off before he holds it out for you to slip your arms back into it, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck as he steps away. The ding of the elevator bell has you stepping a respectable distance apart, sneaking small smiles at each other as the door finally opens to face a worried crowd.

Talk later? he mouths, smile spreading when you nod. Not even your boss’s tomato-red face can sour your good mood, fueled even more by the slip that you find on your desk after lunch announcing your transfer to the floor above, to Joel’s floor.

—

tysm for reading!

#posting this and running away #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller one shot #the last of us fic #lexi writes things #posting tonight for u kali ty <3

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