BAD BLOOD Pt 3

BAD BLOOD pt 3

Pairing: step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Tw: +18, mdni, smut, step-cest, big age gap (reader is 22, Joel and Tommy are in their late and mid-40s), perv!Joel, dark!Joel, dark!reader, dubconned!Tommy, mention of f!oral, mention of mfm, fingering, semi public, cum eating, degradation kink, praise kink, daddy kink, alcohol consumption, swearing, reader wears makeup.

Summary: Joel and Tommy take you out and things get heated.

Word count: 5,8k

A/n: it took me longer than I planned but pt 3 is finally here. I really hope you’ll like it! Kisses and hugs to everyone who has given love to the series💖 I’m very grateful!! Special thank you to @milla-frenchy for the support! Ily baby❤️

Series Masterlist || MASTERLIST

*****

You’re sitting at your vanity putting final touches to your makeup. Butterflies are dancing in your stomach and your pussy is tingling as the anticipation of the night electrifies your nerves.

You can’t believe that it’s finally going to happen. You’ve been imagining it for so long. Every holiday, every family visit to your college, every time you saw your stepdad the desire for him ignited your core. You imagined him taking you in your bed, claiming your pussy under the secrecy of the night. You wished he would send your mom to hell, close the door in her face and take you in your dorm room. You dreamt of him fucking you on your desk and making you squirt all over the books. You’ve craved that cock and the man attached to it for so long and today you’re finally going to get it all.

***

“Can you hurry up?” Joel’s booming voice startles you and your hand jerks making your eyeliner too thick. “Tommy’s waiting at the car and getting on my nerves, fidgety fucker.”

You see your step uncle’s reflection in the mirror and exclaim not turning to him, “Fuck! Stop creeping on me! Go away!”

Despite your words you quickly check him out through the mirror. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a cardigan with the lowest V neck you’ve ever seen. Your mouth waters when you see his naked chest.

The man curses and steps into your bedroom shutting the door behind him. You turn swiftly, raising your hand in a stop gesture.

“No. Get out! You’re not coming on my face again. I just did my makeup,” you turn back to the mirror and start fixing your ruined eyeliner barely moving your lips to talk, “tonight is about Tommy and me anyway.”

“In love with your stepdad. Fuckin’ hell!” Joel chuckles, walking to your bed. He sits down and places the elbows on his thighs. His voice gets serious, “I want you to remember what you promised me, angel. No back outs.”

“I’m not in love, Joel. Just wanna fuck him. I’m gonna do everything the way we planned, ok? I can’t believe he’s still talking to you. After what you’ve done.”

Joel rubs his beard hiding a smile. “Told him you wanted to find out if he’d fuck you and I obliged. Then I just made big eyes ‘What?! She recorded it? No way! What a bitch!’ He ate it up,” he adds, looking pleased with himself.

You finally turn to him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Oh, so he thinks you’re innocent?!”

“Tommy knows that I’m far from innocent. But you…”, he points his index finger at you, “your stunt shocked him. His sweet stepdaughter, blackmailing him into fucking her.. Shit!” He adjusts himself and you lick your lips shooting a glance at his bulge.

You turn back to the mirror and silence fills the bedroom while you’re applying your lipstick. You feel Joel's heavy gaze on you until his gruff voice breaks it, “This color will look great smeared on my balls, baby.”

You scoff at his words but don’t say anything. You can’t deny that the desire to suck him off has been growing exponentially since the moment he slapped you in the backyard. Especially when you saw his fat cock that morning. Now you really want that bonus he promised stuffed into your pussy.

When the makeup is done you get up and walk to the bed. Your short black dress with sheer sleeves is laid out next to Joel who’s manspreading his thick thighs. His knee touches your bare leg and you step away furrowing your brows and whine, “Can you leave? I need to change.” Your voice lacks confidence as in reality you want him to stay and watch but it’s hard to admit that this man who looks more like a pimp than a contractor makes your pussy tingle.

“What’s the matter, angel? We’re family, no need to be shy around me.”

You roll your eyes and shift on your feet contemplating your next move. After a few moments your hands rise up to untie your robe. You open it not turning away from Joel and throw it off your shoulders fully exposing yourself. The robe pools at your feet as you’re looking at him with defiance.

Joel’s expression is serious and pensive. He takes you in like you’re an object on display in a shop window. You hold your breath fearing that any degrading comment thrown your way now might really hurt you. But a wave of relief washes over you when you see him breathe in sharply, lean back on his hand, spreading his legs wider and palming his bulge.

“What if I give you my bonus right now, angel. I feel generous.”

Triumph seizes you when you see the signs of his desire - your power over him. You have an upper hand and now it’s your turn to smirk.

“Don’t think so, step uncle. Need to ask my daddy first.”

You turn around and walk to the dresser hearing the man chuckle. You feel his gaze on your ass and push it out a little to give him a better view.

You open the top drawer and look through your panties and bras wanting to choose a perfect set for tonight.

You hear your bed creak and then the heat of Joel’s body warms up your bare back and ass.

“Want me to help you choose, angel? I know what my brother likes.”

“I was thinking this one,” you muse picking up a red lacy set and showing it to him.

“Fuck, it’s hot, baby. Suits you well. Slutty,” he comments and then leans lower, his lips are brushing your ear as he whispers, “but don’t forget your role, angel. You’re his innocent stepdaughter. He thinks he hates that he wants to fuck you but he fuckin’ loves it. He’s as twisted as me, just hides it.”

He raises his arms at your sides caging you between his massive biceps and searches through the drawer. He’s looking over your shoulder and when his hot wet exhale hits your naked breasts, your nipples get hard. He picks up a light pink mesh set, decorated with cute little white hearts.

“Wear this one and he’ll bust his nut as soon as he sees you”.

“I kinda need him to last,” you murmur but decide to follow his advice.

The thoughts are jumbled in your head as Joel’s low voice and hot breath on your naked skin are making you weak. You press your thighs together chasing any relief from the ache in your core. You feel cold air on your wet pussy. His bulge grazes the hollow of your ass and you bite your lip trying to swallow a whimper that is crawling up your throat.

“Yeah, it’s a good one,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. You want to take the lingerie from him but he doesn’t let you and pulls his hand away.

“I’ll help, angel.” You hear shuffling and turn around slightly to see him get on one knee behind you. He looks up at you, still dominant even in this position and your breath hitches.

Suddenly his hands grip your thighs and he turns you around. His face is so close to your pussy now your clit tingles and you gush more.

He drops his head and brings the panties to your feet. Your mouth parts with a surprise.

“Come on,” he hurries you and you step into the underwear, one foot and then the other. He hums with satisfaction and pulls them up, his hands brushing your legs and tickling your skin making it erupt in goosebumps. He notices your body’s reaction to his touch and stops his hands mid thigh looking straight at your pussy.

“Joel,” you whine as a sudden surge of shyness grasps you.

He seems not to hear. He leans closer to your mound and you gasp when his nose pushes into the spot just above your seam.

Then he plants a soft kiss on your mound and you take a deep breath as the desire overwhelms you. You want his mouth on you with fierce desperation, your mind is empty and only one thought is swirling through it, “do it do it, do it.”

You shut your eyes ready to drown in pleasure and hear his soft and seductive voice as his breath warms your skin, “Who’s gonna eat your pussy tonight, angel, me or your stepdaddy?”

You can’t help but imagine them both between your thighs and you moan dropping down your head and running your fingers through his hair.

To your disappointment Joel pulls the panties up and doesn’t stop until your pussy lips swallow the sheer fabric. It presses on your clit and you take a sharp breath as a surge of need ignites your core.

You lift one leg, brace your hand on the dresser behind you and put your thigh over his broad shoulder giving him a perfect view of your pussy. Then your hand darts to pull the material to the side and you bite your lower lip as his hot breath hits your wet skin. Joel growls and raises his eyes at you. His gaze is so dark the irises are hardly visible. You’re sure your pupils are as blown as his.

“Want uncle to lick your pretty pussy?” he asks softly but you hear a trace of mockery in his voice. Your need suffocates your pride and you answer him by gliding your foot up and down his muscular back.

He hums and leans closer to your center. You hold your breath in anticipation and run your fingers through his hair ready to tug on them when he finally eats you out. But you furrow your brows and blink in confusion when he presses his cheek to your folds and stills. “What are you..?”

Suddenly he moves his head up and down against your sensitive pussy rubbing it with his rough scruff. You cry out and jump back away from him.

“What the fuck, Joel?! It hurts!” you’re fuming looking at your burning folds while he chuckles getting up from the floor with a grunt.

“Just wanted to save your scent, baby,” he laughs rubbing his beard and you shout at him to get out putting on a bra.

“You have 5 minutes,” he says, still chuckling as he leaves the room.

***

When you finally step outside the house you see the brothers smoking by Joel’s truck. Jess took your stepdad’s car to go on a spa retreat and her plans to waste Tommy’s money pampering herself coincided perfectly with your plans to fuck her husband.

You bite your lip when you see Tommy wearing a black western shirt and dark jeans. Your heart sings at the thought that he wanted to look good to take you out.

Tommy quickly looks you over, trying to hide his interest but you notice his gaze slide over your body tightly enveloped by the slinky dress.

Joel on the other hand doesn’t hide anything. “Looking good, baby,” he comments shamelessly adjusting his bulge.

“Let’s go,” you say, coming up to the truck and batting your lashes at Tommy, “Daddy, will you keep me company in the back?”

“Sweetheart...” Tommy starts talking with an unsure expression but you pout your lips, mouthing, “please”.

He sighs and gets in the back seat. A little part of you wonders if he’s pushed by your threat or genuine desire to be close to you. But you shut this little voice down reminding yourself that the result is what’s important.

When you get into the car your dress rides up exposing even more of your thighs but you don’t bother tugging it down.

Joel starts the engine and backs out of the driveway while you’re looking around at the interior of his truck. It’s surprisingly tidy and you’re genuinely impressed until your gaze raises up and to your shock you see your panties hanging on the rear view mirror. Your jaw drops and you’re about to shout at Joel when you stop yourself. You realize that the perv must have picked them up from the floor of your room that morning and you’re not eager to let your stepdad know about your fun time with your step uncle.

So you shut your mouth and see Joel winking at you in the mirror.

Tommy on the other hand reacts as soon as he sees it, “God, Joel, take this thing off!”

“Why?” His older brother asks with defiance driving through the town streets with one hand on the wheel.

Tommy just sighs, not even trying to come up with a reason.

You’re squirming in your seat praying that Joel doesn’t mention whose panties are now swinging in front of the windshield. You almost moan with relief when he turns on some classic rock and doesn’t say anything.

Your eyes keep shooting at Tommy from time to time who’s looking out of the window. You hate that he’s so far so you unbuckle your seat belt and slide over closer to him. You trace a wedding band on his finger getting his attention. He snaps his head your way, brows furrowed.

“Get back in your seat. ‘s dangerous.”

You take his hand and bring it up to your lips as he’s watching you closely. You press your cheek to his knuckles and rub your face against his hand.

“Love when you worry about me, daddy,” you purr into his hand and then place it on your thigh that’s further from him.

You put your hand over his and make him squeeze your naked flesh.

“Keep me safe, please,” you breathe out feeling his palm against your skin, so close to your pussy and at the same time torturously far.

“I ain’t a seat belt, sweetie,” Tommy mumbles looking down at your skin erupting in goosebumps under his touch. He takes a sharp breath and lifts his hips before spreading his legs a little wider. You notice his bulge has grown bigger and you close your eyes for a second trying to calm down but sink even deeper in the sticky pit of desire. You think about moving his hand to your inner thigh and then closer towards your pussy. His fingers would immediately find your panties soaked and if he slid his thumb under the fabric he could easily find your throbbing clit and …

“Hey, lovebirds!” Joel rumbles and you snap your eyes open as he interrupts your daydreaming.

Tommy clears his throat feeling his brother's eyes on him in the car mirror and his hand flies away from your thigh. You curse Joel inwardly for ruining the moment.

Joel’s head turns to you slightly as he asks, “how about we skip the restaurant and get a motel, huh?”

You know that you’re the one he’s asking because Tommy has no say in any of this thanks to the recording you have on your phone.

“I’m not some cheap hooker you picked up at a gas station, Joel. I can’t just jump into bed with you,” you reply, putting your seatbelt back on.

Joel laughs and your stomach burns with rage. You’re fed up with his mocking, his attitude, his cockiness.

“What’s so fucking funny, old man?” You spit out at him grinding your teeth.

“Fuck, baby,” he says locking eyes with you in the mirror, “I don’t remember buying you dinner before I jizzed all over your pretty face a few days ago?”

“You WHAT?!” Tommy exclaims and your heart falls into your stomach. As long as you’ve known him you never heard him raise his voice like that, maybe only watching sports but never at a person. Especially Joel. He scoots forward in his seat to get closer to Joel and grabs his arm. “Have you fucked her already?” Joel seems absolutely unfazed as he replies in his usual “fuck y’all” tone, “No, I haven, Tommy, relax. We just fooled around. The princess wanted to come and I helped her.”

Tommy’s head snaps in your direction and you squeeze your body into the seat as fear grips your heart. He looks livid, eyes are scorching you under the furrowed brows, lips form a tight line in anger or disappointment. You feel small under his stare and stammer weakly, “d..daddy, he didn’t… ”

He suddenly gets closer to you, leans in, grabs your hand and squeezes it in his. It’s not painful but his strength and wrath make your breath hitch and your pussy clenches around nothing as the fear affects you like an aphrodisiac.

“If he fucks your needy hole before I do, believe my words, sweetie, I won’t touch you. You can put that recording of me on national television I don’t give a fuck. Got it?” He throws the words at you as his eyes are boring into yours.

You whimper as his face is so close you feel his breath on your parted lips. Realizing that he’s waiting for your answer you nod hastily and he gets back in his seat.

You feel your world tilting and turning upside down. Your stepdad, the calmest, softest man you know just shouted at his brother and said all that to you.

Tommy’s still fuming, clenching and unclenching his fist resting on his thigh and you wonder why it stirred him up that much. Why has his possessiveness burst out now? It was the first time you witnessed his passion for you. Is it sibling rivalry? Insecurity? Or did he finally let himself do what he’d wanted? You ask yourself these questions before you see Joel watch you through the mirror. He looks smug and you try to make your expression neutral not to give him the satisfaction.

You glance out of the window and your anxiety spikes up again seeing that you’re almost at the place you’ve picked.

“Oh, fuck no!” Tommy exclaims seeing where you three are going. “Are you fucking kidding me? You know that it’s Jess’ favorite place. How am I gonna look with you grinding against me all night?” He’s shooting daggers at you and you take a deep breath trying to find the right words.

“Tommy, listen. This restaurant is the only ok place in this shithole of a town. And I promise I’ll behave,”

Mistrust is painted on his face but seeing you shaken and nervous calms him down a bit.

“No ‘daddies’!” he demands pointing his finger at you.

“No “daddies,” you promise with sadness in your voice.

He points his finger at Joel next, “You too! None of your usual shit!”

Joel raises his hands and brows acting like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. You scuff but turn your pleading gaze at Tommy.

“And we leave when I say we leave!”

You hate losing your upper hand in the situation but your pussy is throbbing for him now, so dominant and rough, and you decide to submit this time.

You all get out of the car and Tommy stomps to the restaurant still angry. Having stayed alone with Joel you use the opportunity and grab his arm to stop him.

“Why have you said it? About the morning? I thought we were on the same page.”

“We are, angel.” Joel replies, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in the direction of the entrance, “I know my brother. He always wants something I don’t have. He must be ecstatic seeing how hungry you’re for him. I just fiddled with his toy a bit and now he wants it even more.”

His hand grabs your ass and you slap it off getting away from him as you see Tommy watch you two waiting at the door.

You can’t believe that Joel is manipulating his brother so easily. But his words have reassured you and you feel less agitated.

When the brothers and you step into the restaurant, a host greets Tommy by the name and you see the confusion hiding behind his features at Mr Miller’s unusual company.

He asks about Jess and you cringe rolling your eyes so far up your head, the host gets even more flustered.

He leads you to your table and you settle down.

A waiter brings you the menus and you order a glass of red wine, adding “Please, you two, no hard liquor, we have a long night ahead of us,” Tommy chokes on his water as the waiter slightly raises his eyebrow.

Joel gets a beer and Tommy follows suit. When the waiter leaves your stepdad glares at you.

“You promised to behave.”

“I am behaving. I just don’t want you to forget why we’re here.”

Joel chimes in, leaning back against his chair with a grunt, “And why exactly are we here, baby?”

“I want us to get to know each other better.”

“We’re family, angel, I know everything there is about you.”

“Really? What’s my favorite color, Joel,” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“The color of my brother’s dick?” Joel asks and you burst into giggles while Tommy mumbles profanities under his breath.

When the drinks arrive Joel starts asking Tommy about his work and you’re surprised to notice how the older brother eases him up. They talk and you listen, not really getting through the meaning of a bunch of contractor terms but you smile when they do and laugh when they say something funny.

Soon you’re drinking and talking and it actually feels comfortable. They reminisce about their life in Austin and you ask them questions genuinely interested in their past.

At one point Joel acts like a perfect wing man telling you a hot story of Tommy getting arrested for starting a bar fight because of a girl and you tingle all over. Your stepdad gives you a shy smile and your breath hitches.

Suddenly you feel Joel’s piercing gaze on you.

“What about you, angel? Got any fun college stories for us?” Tommy looks uncomfortable and you remember your promise to him to behave so you say softly,

“I’m a good girl, uncle Joel. I’m there to study, not to waste my time on boys.” You drop your gaze acting so innocent even you don’t believe yourself.

Joel chuckles and Tommy glances up at you with a little smile.

“Ok, our good girl. What about girls? Bet you’ve licked some pussies after a wild party.”

“Fuck, Joel,” Tommy curses and you bite your lip trying not to smile at the way your stepdad squirms in his chair. The wine makes you bolder and you decide to spice up the night.

“How about we play a game? I answer your question and then you two answer mine?” you offer fidgeting in your chair giddy with excitement.

“Shoot, baby.”

“No!”

The men reply at the same time. Tommy’s shaking his head and Joel slightly punches his brother’s shoulder.

“Come on, Tommy. Let’s hear how naughty our good girl gets. I remember you were fine with her… how did you put it… exploring herself.”

Your eyes are glinting with excitement as Joel quotes that dialogue. You remember it by heart now having listened and come to it so many times you lost count.

“Go ahead, angel,” Joel nods, motioning you to speak.

You take a deep breath and start talking softly.

“I’ve been with a girl just once. We weren’t wasted or anything,” You shoot a glance at Joel and then continue, “We were in her room watching a movie and then it kinda happened.” You suddenly feel shy as not only Joel’s but also Tommy’s gaze is glued to you.

“Nah, baby. We need details.” Joel’s voice, seducing and gruff, pulls the words out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“We started making out.. then I tugged her shirt down and sucked on her nipples,” you muse tracing the edge of the wet glass with your finger. “I kissed her stomach, then her pussy… She was so wet. So soft on my tongue. I sucked on her clit and fingered her for some time and she came…her pussy was clamping on my fingers so hard.”

When you lift your eyes you see the brothers stare at you with hungry obsidian eyes as if they’re ready to pounce on you at any moment. Joel palms himself through the jeans and Tommy doesn’t tear his eyes off you as they slide from your lips to your breasts and back up again.

For a few moments you three are soaking in this horny silence until you break it clapping your hands together.

“My turn!”

Tommy takes a big gulp of his beer and Joel raises his brows waiting for your question.

“Have you ever fucked a girl together? Like… shared her?” you quickly regret your question as only saying it already is making you uncomfortably wet.

You’re looking at Joel expecting him to answer but suddenly hear your stepdad’s voice,

“Yeah, we have. Once.”

Your head snaps his way and you gawk at him. You don’t say anything and just wait for him to continue. And he does.

“She was Joel’s girlfriend at the time. We went to a bar, got really drunk and fucked in the bathroom.”

Tommy glances up at you and then quickly averts his eyes.

“Fuck…,” you moan rubbing your thighs together imagining them using some lucky girl like that and ask,

“How did you do it?”

Joel leans closer to you placing his massive arms on the table and replies savoring every word while his velvety voice hits you right in the pussy, “I made her bend over to suck Tommy off and then shoved my dick deep into her cunt. He fucked her throat, I fucked her hole and we pumped her full.”

The moment Joel finishes talking you hear the waiter’s shaky voice asking if you’d like anything else.

Tommy curses and sends him away. He acts polite but his voice strains with rage.

He hastily gets up and mumbling the word ‘bathroom’ leaves you two. Before he turns away you spot his massive bulge and swallow loudly.

You take a deep breath trying to calm down.

“Angel, you look pale,” Joel laughs at you and then shakes his head, “you want him, he wants you, what are all these fuckin’ games for? You coulda been stuffed with our cocks by now but no, little princes wanted to be wined and dined. Lets hope he doesn’t change his mind about tonight. If our plan goes to shit because of you, uncle Joel will get very angry. And you surely don’t want that, missy.” Joel’s expression is serious and you remember that he has his personal motive and his concern quickly becomes yours.

“I’ll talk to him,” you say, getting up from the table.

You come up to the bathroom and knock. It’s quiet so you knock again until you hear the lock click.

Tommy opens the door and steps out of the room but you gently push him back in.

“Please, let’s talk,”

You hear people’s voices and not wanting to be caught with you alone at the bathroom Tommy begrudgingly steps back and shuts the door behind you two.

“What?!” He grumps and steps up to the sinks. He opens the tap and bends down to wash his face.

You lean back against the door watching him and contemplating your next move. He’s about to snap and you’re afraid what unexpected fit he could throw again. You know he wants you and you need to be wise rather than play on his nerves. “You’re his innocent stepdaughter,” Joel’s words emerge from your mind.

You come up to him slowly and wait while he’s drying his face with a hand towel.

“I’m not a monster, Tommy. I don’t wanna ruin your life,” you speak softly, placing your hand on his shoulder. He turns to you, anger still painted on his face.

You inch closer, press your forehead to his shoulder and whisper breathing in his scent,

“I want you, Tommy. So fucking much.”

You feel vulnerable at the moment but that’s exactly what he wants you to be right now.

“So that’s why you spread your legs for my brother? ‘Cause you wanted me?”

You sniff not saying anything for a few moments, then lift your head, and glance up at him. His face is blurry as you’re looking at him through the tears.

“I was just horny, daddy. And when he was fingering me, I was imagining you fucking my pussy.”

Tommy’s breath hitches and you hold yours as well hoping he’ll react.

“Fuck, babygirl,” your stepdad whispers as his rage shifts into sympathy, his eyes sad and blown out.

The next moment he grabs you under your thighs, lifts you and sets you on the counter. He’s standing between your legs as you place your hands on his shoulders. His thumb wipes a tear from your cheek as the other hand is pressed to your lower back. You open your legs wider and the dress pulls up at your hips exposing your light pink panties.

“Shhh, don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here,” he whispers, kissing your cheek gently and his head drops as he’s looking at your pussy, “I want you too.”

His smell, his touch, his confession make you ecstatic and you press your parted lips to his. They’re soft and plump as his tongue breaches your lips and he licks into your whimpering mouth. You grab his ass and pull him closer to your heated center. You feel him hard against your pussy and start grinding on his stiff bulge.

“What do you need, babygirl? Tell me,” Tommy says, parting from your lips.

“Touch me, please… can’t wait any longer,” you whine, pulling your dress up to the waist. His hands rush to free your pussy and you lift your hips before Tommy takes your panties off.

The cold marble under your ass makes you hiss but you forget about it as soon as Tommy’s fingers push between your folds and he rubs your clit making you moan.

“You like it, babygirl? Daddy’s finally touching your needy pussy.”

You can’t form any words so you just moan and nod your head frantically. His forehead is pressed against yours as you’re both watching his digits glide down to your hole and without hesitation he pushes his middle finger inside you. You’re so wet it slides in easily and he starts massaging your walls.

“More please,” you plead and he groans as his index finger joins the first.

“Good girl! You're sucking me in so well, can’t wait to bury my cock inside you,” Tommy murmurs in your ear and you whimper before you see the door opening. Your heart freezes in your chest as you’re about to get caught being fingered by your stepdad. But you breathe out with relief seeing Joel stepping into the bathroom.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he grumbles coming up to you two. He stands next to Tommy, his bulge pressed to your thigh. Through the haze of pleasure you feel Joel’s hand cup your tears stricken cheek and he leans to your ear and whispers, “Clever girl.”

Then his big palm squeezes your naked thigh as he asks you,

“Enjoying daddy’s fingers, angel? Who’s better at fingering your tight little hole, him or your uncle?”

Tommy groans and suddenly his lips are on yours. His kiss is hungry, desperate, claiming. You melt into it feeling your climax build as his fingers are pushing on the soft spot inside you.

You moan into his mouth and Tommy’s lips leave yours as he mumbles, “I’ll feed your pussy my cock.. soon, babygirl… just wait.”

“You’ll be full by the end of the night, angel,” Joel smirks and pulls down the neckline of your dress exposing your naked breasts to the men. He starts twitching your nipple as his brother is working your pussy.

Joel watches your face twist with pleasure, your teeth biting your lips mercilessly.

“Don’t ruin your pretty lips, angel,” he says, bringing his thumb to your mouth. He brushes your swollen lower lip and pulls it out from between your teeth, “Here.” He pushes his thumb into your mouth and you welcome it. You start sucking on his thick digit making the filthiest noises.

With your stepdad’s fingers fucking your hole and step uncle's thumb stuffing your mouth you feel yourself about to unravel. Tommy pushes you over the edge pressing his thumb to your clit and swirling it a few times.

“Come, babygirl. Make daddy proud,” Tommy says and your explode clumping hard on his fingers and moaning, your pretty noises muffled by Joel’s thumb still pressed to your tongue. The man praises you, “That’s our girl. Perfect little slut.”

The orgasm is hitting you hard and you’re shaking and trembling so Tommy wraps his arm around your waist holding you tight but still pleasuring you.

They both are watching Tommy’s digits rhythmically disappear inside your dripping hole and your pussy squelches as your creamy cum, pushed out by the intrusion, slides down your ass towards the counter. Finally your climax subsides and your body stills, jerking with aftershocks from time to time.

Joel's thumb leaves your mouth and he holds the back of your neck while you’re trying to catch your breath.

Tommy pulls out his fingers too and lifts them up for the three of you to see. Under the bright lights you see his digits glazed with your juices. A drop of your slick slides down his middle finger and Tommy licks it off and then brings his digits to your mouth. You happily suck them clean while they both are praising you, “that’s our girl”, “like that, angel”, “came so hard for daddy and uncle.”

When you’re done cleaning your stepdad’s fingers off your cum, he cups your cheek and asks softly, “ready to go home, babygirl?” You look at Tommy, whose adoring and hungry gaze makes you tingle again, then at Joel, who’s eating you up with his blown out eyes, his hand palming his huge bulge, and the anticipation of the night ahead makes your heart and pussy flutter.

Batting your eyelashes at the men you give them a shy smile and say “yes.”

******

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closer, part one | joel x reader

chapter one | masterlist |  ao3

pairing: joel x f!reader (no use of y/n) (no apocalypse au)

rating: 18+

word count: 4.9k

warnings: 18+, smut (in most later chapters), age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), porn with some plot, soft!dom joel, rough sex, spanking, piv, oral (m + f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation

story summary: you are staying with your parents, helping them move into their new house in austin. what happens when joel miller, the attractive neighbor you’ve been eyeing obsessively starts to show you some much wanted attention?

a/n: been posting this mostly on ao3 for a while but thought the tumblr audience might also enjoy my self indulgent joel smut story <3

Keep reading

Joel Miller x trainer!reader - Professional

The return of Sweaty!Joel 🥵

Summary:  Joel Miller, your personal training client, overhears you calling him a DILF and makes explaining yourself very difficult. 

Warnings: smut, gym porn with no plot, age gap (Joel in his 40s, reader in her 20s), pet names, sexual tension, mutual gym crush, horny!Joel, public fingering, dirty talk Word count:  2.3k   Rating: 18+    

thank you x 100 to @pascalisbaby for helping me with this fic - i'd be nowhere without u and ur slick!Joel ideas !! 🤍💘 Read her fics now ‼️

You’ve had a long day of training clients, showing up at nine and having back to back appointments, only getting a break to have lunch and decompress mid day. The receptionist has left already and the gym is technically closed, so you have an hour to spare before your last client comes in.

Joel M. the calendar says, and every Tuesday and Thursday at six, you fight tooth and nail to stay professional while you watch his muscles bulging out of his tan, glistening skin, see the sweat drip down from his thick hair and hear the occasional grunt as he works out in front of you.

You don’t think you’ve cracked.. So far at least.

Joel was your gym crush for quite some time before he became your client, always smiling and saying hi when you’d started recognizing each other. He immediately caught your attention when he signed up at the gym, and a quick look through his file a couple weeks down the line informed you that he was in his early forties. Damn.

You would’ve never guessed he was a day over 35 at most, those salt and pepper curls the only indicator of age you’d really noticed from afar. Too old for you regardless, but breathtakingly handsome.

So the moment you heard you had a request for a new training client and saw his name on the form, you immediately wanted to hand him off to your coworker, knowing you’d be way too nervous to be with him one on one that often.

But when you asked them to take over, blaming his requested time not fully matching your schedule, they told you he’d requested you specifically, saying he’d noticed how you trained other clients and liked your approach. So you took him on after mulling it over, and ended up getting along well, which definitely didn't help cool off the attraction. Quite the opposite, actually.

You usually spend your hour-long break getting your own workout over with, so you have a reason to be out of breath and clammy when Joel shows up, not wanting him to know you’re actually just as nervous every time you see him, even though he’s been your client for six months.

You don’t even know why he hired you as his trainer when he’s in such good shape, so strong and muscular, and never requires much instruction either. “Takes the guesswork out,” he says, “I just show up and do it, leave all the thinkin’ to you”.

Today, however, your workout ends early and you have ten minutes to kill before Joel shows up exactly on time, as always. You call your best friend and ask her about her day, hear about “short” meetings that end up running all afternoon, passive aggressive emails from coworkers, the usual.

She asks about yours, knowing you’re gonna train Joel. “That man is such a fucking DILF, I can’t” you groan, drawing out the last syllable, rolling your eyes, before complaining about not having a proper staff room, the usual.

“Hey,” he says breathlessly as he appears in the doorway, wearing black shorts and a t-shirt that just says Texas in large letters.

“Ready?” you ask with a smile as you hang up the call without saying bye.

“As ready as I can be, darlin’, got a feelin’ you’re gonna try to kill me as always”.

You giggle and look up at him, holding each other’s gaze for a second before snapping back to reality and motioning for him to go into the weight room.

“How was work today?” you ask him as you help him put the weights on the bar.

“It was fine, better now, though, with some peace and quiet”. You laugh softly and take a few steps back, finding somewhere to lean while he does his warm up set and you watch his form.

“And you?” he breathes, halfway through the set.

“Pretty normal, I guess” you say, “Had back to back clients from nine to five, worked out, and now I’m here”. You wish you had something more interesting to say, but the only other interesting thing that did happen was your coworker’s curry completely exploding in the staff microwave.

“You been here since nine?” he asks, genuinely sounding surprised.

“You don’t have to stay late for me, sweetheart” he says with a smile.

“Oh, I don’t mind” you say and wave dismissively, “Wouldn’t do it if you were a shitty client so, compliment of the day for you”.

He chuckles a little, “Fair enough”.

He puts some more weight on either side of the bar, and you watch him do his deadlifts, carefully watching his back, reminding him to roll his shoulders back even though he always does it automatically before you even say anything.

He lowers the weight to the floor and puts his hands on his knees, looking up at you while he catches his breath. “So, uh, what’s a DILF?”. You choke on your spit the second his question registers in your brain.

“I’m sorry, what?” you ask, feeling the hot flush covering your face and your eyes widening as you cough a little.

“When I came in, and you were on the phone,” he says, still out of breath, “You said your next client’s a DILF”. Fuck, how did he hear that? “And I assumed you were referrin’ to me, so I got curious”.

“This is awkward.. Uhm,” you say with a laugh, rubbing your forehead, “You ever see the American Pie movie? The first one?”.

He nods, and you stall a little, continue trying to buy time.

“Well, uh, Jennifer Coolidge plays Stifler’s mom, and basically these two guys at that party call her a MILF, if you remember, like a..”, you clear your throat before muttering the final part of the sentence, “A mom I’d like to fuck, so a DILF is obviously a, um..”. Your eyes close in embarrassment, “Dad.. version.. of that”.

“So you think I’m a DILF now, huh?” he asks with a smirk.

You can’t help but laugh, hoping that’ll be his last question, “I'd say you qualify”.

“And why am I a DILF, exactly?” he asks, taking a step towards you as you lean against the backrest of a leg extension machine.

“You’ve mentioned your daughter several times, Joel” you reply, trying to sound snarky in an attempt to deflect the question.

"That explains the dad part, honey”, he tucks your hair behind your ear, his eyes not leaving yours for a second, “It’s the ‘I’d like to fuck’ part I wanna hear more about”.

You’re completely frozen with your mouth half open, looking blankly at his eyes and swallowing despite your mouth being bone dry. “Sweetheart, have you been wearin’ all these pretty little outfits just for me?”.

You don’t exactly plan to wear those borderline skimpy workout fits the days he comes in, it just kinda happens.. Every single time. Tight shorts or leggings and a matching, tight top. Hair tied up in a ponytail, sometimes half up half down, sometimes just down. Maybe the top is a little low cut, but it gets hot in there, and having to demonstrate exercises is bound to make you sweat. Right?

“What do you want me to see, huh?”. You’re too stunned to answer his questions, your breaths are too rapid to stay still and, honest to god, you’re too flustered to even think straight, from having him so close to you, from smelling his sweat and cologne and deodorant and laundry detergent and just everything.

“That my outfits match?” you suggest innocently, “I think they’re kinda cute, I just got this one”. You look down and smooth out a few wrinkles in your shorts.

“Very cute,” he says and gives your ensemble a once-over, “You look so distractingly sexy in them I can’t get my eyes off you any time I’m in here, baby”. The thought of Joel wanting you sends a shock through your core, a sudden lightning bolt of arousal striking you right down the middle and deep down.

“If you wanted my attention, you could’ve just said so” he says with a chuckle, slipping both of his hands around your waist, looking down at you with his head tilted, “I’d love to give you more attention, sweetheart, how could I not?”. You giggle nervously, wanting to say thanks for some reason but not getting the words out.

“Gorgeous little thing like you havin’ a crush on me”, his eyes flick down to your chest, clearly taking in your hard nipples poking through your top, “Nothin’ better than that”. Oh, he’s cocky. He loves this.

“Darlin’, you’re about to tear that top with those pretty little nipples” he coos and traces his thumbs across the sensitive buds, making you whimper. “Be honest with me, am I makin’ you horny right now?”.

You press your thighs together as you stand there, feeling your heartbeat inside your panties and looking down to see a bulge in his shorts. “It’s okay, baby," he murmurs, and a moan escapes your throat, "I can tell". He nudges your legs open with his knee and slots his thigh between yours.

“Let me take care of that so you can focus, sweet thing, I know it’s important for you to be a good trainer for your clients” he whispers in your ear, “I don’t mind goin’ a little over time tonight if it means you can nitpick my deadlift form with a clear head”.

He slips his hand down and ghosts his fingers up along the fabric covering your slit. It can’t be physically possible to be any hornier than this, you think, there’s no way. Your legs are almost trembling and you can feel your panties dampening.

“How’s that sound?” he asks, snaking his hands up to trace his index fingers under the straps of your top. “Sounds good, Joel” you say softly and nod. He slides the straps down and off your shoulders, pulling your top down so far that your tits spill out in front of him, feeling goosebumps forming across your skin from the cool air. “Beautiful” he says as he looks at your chest.

“You like that?” he whispers as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, gently massaging them, making you painfully aware of your clit just aching to be touched. You nod dumbly with your eyes half shut, unable to do anything more.

“Just gonna go wash my hands, okay?”. You nod again and watch him disappear into the bathroom while you stand there and try not to touch yourself, needing relief as soon as possible or else you think you might explode. Thank god, you whisper to yourself when you remember that the security cameras have been down the last few days.

You’re still standing up against the machine with your tits out when he comes back, and he immediately nudges your legs a little further apart before sliding your shorts and panties halfway down your thighs. “Made such a mess in your new shorts, huh?” he asks when he sees the dark spot in your panties.

“Shoulda asked me to do this earlier, baby, you’re so wet” he murmurs while he traces his lips along your neck while his one hand finds your nipple again and the other slips between your thighs, “Don’t want you sufferin’ at work like this”.

You let out a mix between a sigh and a moan when his thick middle finger enters you and you feel his tongue on your neck. “Does this help?” he asks, his breath hot on your skin.

“Yes, Joel” you say breathlessly, and feel a second finger enter you while his thumb finds your clit.

He plunges in and out of you a few times, groaning lightly every time his finger finds your sensitive spot deep inside and makes you moan. “Don't stop” you breathe, feeling his thumb rub your clit and his two fingers curl into your spongy spot.

“Why would I stop when you’re doin’ so good, honey?”, you can feel him smiling, “Least I can do when you’ve made my back feel so much better”.

He gently sucks on the skin of your neck while his hand does most of the work, speeding up occasionally to press against your favorite spot and make you shudder. “That’s it, baby, that’s it” he coos when he feels you tense up and start grinding on his hand, your breath hitching and moans getting more frequent as you get closer, trying to hold back. “Just come, it's okay”.

His thumb is rubbing your clit in circles and his fingers are filling you up, building the pressure more and more until he leans down to catch a nipple in his mouth and starts licking at it, immediately sending you over the edge.

“Joel, I-I’m gonna come” you stutter when it's already too late and your walls are throbbing around him and the tingling sensation spreads down your legs and up your tummy. You throw your head back and catch your breath as he pulls out his fingers and wipes them on his shirt.

He pulls your outfit back on as you stand there with your hands suddenly on his chest, looking up at him with your lips parted, staying still until your arms wrap around his neck and his hands find your hips. “Needy girl” he whispers, chuckling softly, “What more do you need right now?”.

Your one hand lets go of his neck and lowers along his body, trailing down his thick chest and belly, eventually cupping his hard bulge and giving it a light squeeze, feeling the outline of his hard cock through the thin fabric. He chuckles even more now, shaking his head. “Gotta use the testosterone surge to fuel my lifts, don't I? Could probably hit a new PR like this”.

And with that, you're forced to merely sit on a bench a meter away and watch as Joel adds more weight to the bar, lifts it effortlessly, and grunts as he stands up straight, with sweat running down his temple and a raging erection in his shorts.

It's torturous to say the least, knowing how his fingers feel, how he smells and sounds, knowing at least to some extent how big he is, and just having to sit there, horny as fuck again from the sight, trying to make sure he's aligning his posterior chain properly instead of having him fuck you senseless while you lick the sweat from his chest.

“So why am I a DILF, again?” he asks, with narrowed eyes and a sly smile when he catches you zoning out, “You never answered my question”.

— looking back

joel miller x f!reader

rated e - 2.2k

tags: jackson-era Joel pov, angst, canon-typical violence/references to death, established relationship, Joel is an ass man, consensual somno elements, posessive!joel, body worship, dirty talk, male masturbation, spitting, touching, come marking

a/n: easing back into writing and started 2 little wips that are sort of "introspective-joel-pov-smut-fics" - here is the first one! 💕

“Fuck. I need you.” He rasps - an edge to his voice, “Would you let me look at you, honey? Just let me look.”

Or - Joel gets off just from the sight of you

He’s strung as tight as a bow. The lingering adrenaline a notched arrow, leaving him about to snap. Blood seeps into his jeans - splattered across his knees, where he had jerked the knife from the man’s neck.

It had been a mercy killing. A stranger, but they had all seen the bite. He had been the only one to do something about it.

He’s told others that you get used to it. The killing - that after a while, survival wins out.

You get over it.

But you don’t. Instead, it clings to him like a shadow, following him home - down the worn, familiar path. Inside the gates, back to Jackson.

Heavier than it’s been before. An itching beneath his skin. If he was over it, he wouldn’t have to turn himself off. Shutting away a part of himself, only to fight to come back - clawing his way out later.

An aching reminder at how short life could be. That yes, things were different - but he was never really safe.

Not really.

His path brings him to you. A beacon, guiding his way back.

His - your - home coming into view, just as the dawn creeps over the fall, wooden fences. The misty grey brightening into gold and pink with the sun, as he’s unlocking the wooden door, shouldering it open.

A look thrown out the window as he scrubs his hand clean in the kitchen - seeing that the garage light is on. That she’s home, that she’s okay. An automatic check, before his weary feet take him upstairs.

Joel sheds the layers, the jacket thrown over the railing at the top of the stairs. Fingers fumbling with his belt, pulling the worn leather through the loops before his stained jeans crumple on the floor, as he pushes the cracked door open.

The light from the hallway stretches across the wooden floor, creeping into the dark room. Where you still lay sleeping, curled on your side within the blankets and sheets. Missing him in your dreams, that space next to you long empty.

Cold - where your fingers reach out, searching for him.

His path diverts, moving to you instead of the attached bathroom. The edge of the bed sinking under his weight, a soft sound as you stir.

“‘Welcome ‘ome.” You murmur, still half-asleep. A little wiggle as your bent knee hitches higher, the oversized shirt you’re wearing bunching up around your hips.

He reaches out, just the ghosting of his fingers against the soft skin near your knee. The fluttering of heavy lashes as you fight sleep, only to be pulled under again.

Joel’s hand shifts. A warm palm pressing against your thigh. Against soft skin, so different than his own calloused touch.

Home.

It is, isn’t it? As close to he’s had in years. Decades. The old apartment in the QZ had never felt that way, not with the faded floral walls. Those small rooms that still held ghosts.

But here, his own touch lingers. Yours, melding with it. It would never be like before - the picking out of furniture, of paint. But it’s his clothes in the closet. His worn guitar that rests against the couch. His wooden carvings lining the top of the mantle, above the fireplace.

And you - you're scattered throughout. Woven blankets and thick sweaters. Books, covering damn near every surface.

A little bottle of found lotion tucked away in the bathroom. He can smell it now, as he leans over you. A bristly kiss pressed against your cheek, the curve of your shoulder.

Amber, vanilla, caramel.

He’s pulled back to the memory, the light shining in your eyes when he handed the beaten bottle over. The minuscule amount you had worked into your knuckles - the soft sigh of contentment.

A bright laugh when he had pulled you close, the murmured “smells good” against your throat, as you had squirmed in his grasp - smiling as you read the fragrance notes out loud.

Something stirs in him, then. The press of his thigh against yours, as he leans over. Eyes dragging down to the bare curve of your ass, his hand tracing cup your thigh to palm your flesh.

His already uneven breath hitching, as you sigh. That little smile - his name - murmured out as you rock instinctively into his touch. Still on the edge of sleep, lulled off into a deep sleep with the cooling of summer.

Waking you up wouldn’t be unusual. Half the time you’re already up after these early-morning patrols. Waiting for him.

How he waits for you, on those few days where it’s you out there, instead of him. His jaw working with irritation until you’re home and back and safe, and he’s stripping your clothes from you himself.

It’s selfish to wake you, on a morning where you sleep so deeply. Even with the stress that’s eating at him, simmering in his veins.

But maybe… maybe he can just-

Joel is leaning, his mouth against your neck. A shift as you stretch, baring your skin to him as your lips curl in a smile. A soft, sleepy hum as you reach for him, fingers curving over the thick muscle of his forearm.

The hand on your ass drifting up - across to the small of your back. Meeting noting but warm, bared skin beneath your shirt.

“Fuck. I need you.” He rasps - an edge to his voice, “Would you let me look at you, honey? Just let me look.”

Heavy-lidded eyes open then at the sound of his voice - his words - as you tilt your head. A slow sweep over the breadth of his shoulders, the curve of his stomach. The spread of his thighs as he kneels behind you. The already half-hard tent of faded boxers.

You had been waiting for him. Anticipating his return, eager for his touch. The cloud of sleep begins to clear as he palms himself, the bed shifting as your hips shift, thighs spreading open for him.

“I can take care of you,” Your voice is scratchy - husky, in the early morning. A hand pressing again on your back as you begin to roll over, holding you in place.

“You already are,” Joel groans, as your hips tilt up, off the bed. Knees pressing into the mattress as he nudges your thighs wider, fitting between them, “Stay just like that, alright?”

The combination feels erotic. His smell on the shirt you wear. The tingling throb between your thighs, the desire in his voice. How much he wants - enough that just the sight of you has him hard, thumbs catching on the waistband of his boxers to free himself.

You relax into the bed, as you watch. The weight of his hand as it moves to squeeze your ass. A pressure as he tugs, opening you up.

“Fuck.”

Joel spits in his palm, before it’s wrapping around his cock. A rough groan as some of that need is eased, with the sharp stroke of his fist.

Just letting himself look. Admire.

A sight that is only his, fingers sinking into soft flesh. The way you trust, how effected you are already - the shallow rock of your hips as the sound of skin-on-skin fills the room.

“You got a pretty little pussy, honey.” He hears himself saying. Watching how you clench at his praise, the little gasp that follows. “Pretty little holes. All for me, right?”

He can feel the weight of your gaze. Darkening, as your hunger grows low in your belly. Darting between his face and the sharp flick of his wrist.

Rarely getting to see him take, like this. Usually he would have been buried in you, by now. There’s the urge to ask, but there’s a power in this - wanting to watch him get off to you. Not having to lift a finger to do so.

“All for you.” You sigh, “Always.”

His jaw grits, teeth clicking together. A bead of precum joins the slick of his spit, that angry fire in his belly transforming.

So different that the little mouse he had taken to bed, all those months ago. Your hands covering your mouth, muffling the moans, until he had pried them away. Pinning them against the pillows, whispering filth in your ear.

Now, he can see the greed in your eyes. The way you glisten, when his own gaze drops. The shift of your thighs as he takes a second to rub himself against the curve of your ass. Dipping down to press against your core.

The tip coming back slick, in a new kind of way - fueling the pressure, building in his belly.

Your moan breaks the early-morning quiet. His name on your lips again - more urgent than before.

The little beg only sends him closer, a rough groan in his throat. His own hand too familiar - used to the quick and precise touch he needs to get off, when he had to.

In the before. In the during - when it was only words that the you of you had exchanged. Heated looks that lingered late into those lonely nights.

Hasn’t felt the urge to, since he’s had you.

He expects you to ask him to fill you, eyes caught on the enticing lift of your hips.

Caught off-guard for the briefest second, a heat flushing over his cheeks, when you shift beneath him instead. Flipping over, onto your back.

Eyes bright, teeth sinking into your lip as you smile.

“Wanna watch.” You admit, and that tension in his shoulders settles in his chest, turning sweet.

His fist tightening around his cock, as your thighs splay over his. Opening yourself up under his gaze, stretching out in front of him.

And fuck, what a sight. There’s a rolling wave deep in his core that he chases with the rock of his hips.

His hand fits perfectly against the curve of your waist, eyes caught on the way your fingers catch on the hem of your shirt.

Pulling it up over your breasts, a path that his eyes follow greedily.

“Christ, darlin’.” The words rumble in his chest.

A rough exhale as your own gaze drops to his fist. The pace that he’s picked up - the peek of the flushed tip when he strokes down to the base.

Already about to burst, like he’s a man half his age. Could say it’s just his own touch, the urge to relieve the weight of his stress.

But he knows it’s more. That warmth in his chest, a tenderness that has only softened the rough stone of his heart since he’s left Boston.

It’s there in the way that he could linger on the slick place between your thighs. But instead he’s watching you watch him. Focusing on the part of your lips, the shine in your eyes.

“‘m close.” Joel breathes, his words low. Rough. “Where do you want it?”

He’ll catch it in his palm if he needs to. If it helps you go back to sleep, after. He hasn’t given up on that wish - to let you drift off for a little longer.

The look you give him, the little smile that turns mischievous, has his stomach twisting into knots. Like butterflies, he thinks.

Your hand drifts down, knuckles brushing over the jerk of his. Soft fingers tracing over hot, swollen flesh. Only to curve over your mound, to spread yourself open for him.

“Fuck.” He breathes, again, “There?”

The answering hum is low, desperate.

“Wanna hear you ask me.” Joel pushes - needing to hear you say it, knowing it will push him over the edge.

You squirm beneath him, affected by the edge to his voice, the soft command.

“Want you to come on me.”

“Where, baby?” The word slides from his lips without thought.

The eye contact breaks, your gaze darting away with embarrassment. But after a moment it’s back - the soft heave of your breasts as you suck in a breath, steeling your nerves.

“Want you to come on my pussy, Joel.”

He can’t help the rough groan, ripped from his chest. The shift of his thighs as he pulls back, as that pressure builds. The pleasure surging instead of ebbing, as he tips his cock downward.

The next stroke of his fist pushes him past the threshold. Relief sings in his veins as he spills across your mound. Painting your abdomen with his release, eyes fluttering closed as his hearing goes fuzzy.

Drowning out his long moan, as you push yourself up. He meets you instinctually, arcing over you as his mouth is drawn to yours.

As his spend drips down the crease of your thigh, so warm against soft skin.

It feels like a weight is lifted, like he’s back in his own skin again. Relaxing into the fingers that scratch into his hair, the tongue that sweeps against his.

But it’s only a few moments before he remembers. Coming back to himself, as he fits his hand between your thighs.

Fingers dragging through his release, bringing his slick fingers to circle against your clit.

Because there’s no way you’re going back to sleep after this. Not if he knows you - which he’s now certain that he does.

"Thank you honey." He murmurs, with lips that press against your cheek.

The smallest smile after, as your own part with a moan - as he croons against your skin.

"Now let me take care of you."

thank you for reading! was excited to explore a little idea I had 💕

(tags: @celestianstars)

i wanna be your lover | 70s!pornstar!joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female!reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings/rating: 18+ explicit. extended warnings will be given for each part.

main masterlist

ao3

part one: i wanna be your lover

part two: lover, lover, lover

part three: just crazy love

© shellshocklove

Lather

(Inspired by our curly, long-haired Pedro with his broken wing) When Joel injures his shoulder, he needs your help washing his hair and getting off 🧴🧻💦🧼🚿🛀(4k)

Part one of a new mini series!!

Tags- shoulder injury, forced proximity, hair washing, handjobs, blowjobs, Joel finishes little too early, sexual tension, masturbation, pissed off joel, impish reader as per ushe. Joel starts out soft and gentle, this will not last long. Just you wait for part two, mwahahahahah!!

A/N- This new series is written for and inspired by my very dear friend @noxturnalpascal , please do not eat Pedro’s fucking hair. I’m begging you. And thank you @tightjeansjavi for the title name!!

Generously edited by my dear friend, the lovely @papipascalispunk

You’re at the dinner table, watching Joel awkwardly cut his chicken and potatoes with the side of his fork, held by his left hand. He brings the food to his mouth kind of slowly, deliberately, like he has to consciously think about where his fork will end up. He catches your watchful gaze and looks at you, “What?”, he scowls.

You shrug, “Nothing.”

“Quit lookin’ at me,” he huffs, “Creep.”

You’ve been living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie for quite some time now. Ellie’s got the garage and the downstairs bathroom to herself, you and Joel live in separate bedrooms upstairs. It works out. Kind of. The stairs are an issue. They’re old and steep, kind of slippery. It was only a matter of time before someone slipped and fell, and last week, that’s exactly what Joel did. Early one morning, he had misstepped and totally ate shit, landing hard on his right shoulder. You rushed to help him, but Joel shrugged you off, insisting he was fine. But you could hear in his voice he wasn’t, how he strained to speak. And in the following days, you noticed how his routine changed in the aftermath of his injury. He’s been favoring his right arm heavily, eating, cooking, opening doors, picking things up all with his left hand, rarely his right. 

Ellie gets up from the table to rinse her plate. When she passes you and Joel on her way back to the garage, she stops next to Joel and just stares at him, a look of confusion and disgust on her face. She reaches her hand forward, pushing her fingers slowly through his hair and watching the curls stand up straight. Joel freezes before turning to look at her, perplexed and irritated. “What’s the matter with you?”, he asks. 

“Gross,” Ellie giggles, still playing with his hair. He swats her hand away. 

“Yeah, shut up,” Joel grumbles, “You’ll have gray hair one day too. It ain’t that funny.”

“I’m not talking about the color. Your hair is disgusting, Joel. It’s like, sticking straight up. Are you hydrophobic or something?”

“Leave me alone,” Joel tells her, “Go do something. Go play in traffic.”

“You smell like you’re hydrophobic,” Ellie retorts as she continues towards her room. 

You turn your attention back to Joel, who looks insulted. Subtly, he turns his nose to his armpit to smell himself and then checks his reflection in the window, using his left hand to mess with his curls. He notices you staring at his reflection as well, “Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”, he asks defensively as he messes with his hair a little more, flipping the mess to one side of his head, then to the other, rubbing the strands between his fingers. Joel sighs deeply then, gets up from his seat, and – using his left arm – he drags his chair across the kitchen and sets it in front of the kitchen sink. “I need help,” he confesses in a tone hardly audible, like he’s sheepish and uncomfortable. Disappointed, too. 

“What?”

“Washin’ my hair,” he speaks louder this time, “It’s hard with my uh…shoulder. I need your help.” 

“Took you long enough to as–”

“Knock it off,” he interrupts. It was probably around day four post-staircase incident that you noticed Joel’s hair taking on a more dirty appearance. You stare at his hair a lot lately now that he’s growing it out for winter. His hair curls in all sorts of directions, little cowlicks all over his head. The ringlets at the bottom of his neck are your favorite part. How gorgeous they look with the multitude of colors on his head. Deep, chocolatey brown with highlights of caramel and silvery gray streaks. With resources being fairly scarce even in Jackson, Joel doesn’t wash his hair every day, which is honestly fine for him. However, the days that he does wash his hair, he struggles to scrub his scalp properly with just his left hand, hence the dirty and greasy appearance. And really, it doesn’t look that bad. Probably feels worse for him, though, all that schmutz built up. Probably itchy and uncomfortable. 

You take your plate to the kitchen sink and give it a quick wash before drying it and putting it away. Joel sits in the chair he’s placed in front of the sink, and reaches behind himself for the dish soap, then kind of just puts it in your hand. You look at Joel, tilting your head in confusion. Sure, it's slim pickings for resources, but there’s a reason you’re close with the soapmaker here in Jackson. It’s the little things that keep you going; one of the little things being fruity scented shampoo that the soapmaker hooks you up with. 

You place the soap back on the kitchen counter and leave quickly to grab your shampoo, then come back to meet Joel at the sink. Joel looks at the bottle of shampoo in your hand, “What the hell is that?”, he asks. 

“My shampoo. It smells kinda like strawberries, see?”, you open the cap and squeeze the bottle to waft the scent towards him.

 Joel scrunches his nose, “It’s too girly.”

“You’re too girly,” you taunt, and Joel rolls his eyes. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m washing your hair, so I get to pick the shampoo. It’s like a spa night,” you chirp happily. 

“Nope, not a spa night,” he replies harshly, “Just wash my damn hair. No funny business.” When you stare down at him, unimpressed with his attitude, Joel backtracks, “Please,” he begs. 

“Spa night.”

“Fine,” Joel sighs in defeat and leans his head back into the sink, scooting down the chair. He looks deeply uncomfortable already, putting his weight on the left side of his body and raising his shoulder up and away from resting on the sink. Poor guy. You turn on the sink and begin to run the water over his scalp with the detachable faucet, but Joel yelps in pain. “Hot, s’ way too hot,” he says loudly, craning his neck away from the stream. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, quickly turning the faucet lever in the other direction. 

“Cold, cold, Christ—cold,” Joel hisses as he reaches behind himself to try to haphazardly adjust the lever himself, swatting his hand violently. He ends up hitting your hand instead, resulting in you dropping the faucet on his forehead. He yelps again and quickly sits up straight, water flinging across the room from his wet hair. “This isn’t gonna work,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Think we need to get this over with in the shower.”

“I think that’d work better,” you agree. 

So, you and Joel make your way upstairs, you’ve got your fruity shampoo in your hand. Joel’s wet hair drips down his neck and back as you follow him towards the bathroom where he turns on the shower, letting the water warm up. He shuts and locks the bathroom door before unbuttoning his flannel, again with his left hand only. Turning away from you, you watch Joel twitch and wince in pain as he tries to take off his undershirt. It kind of makes you sad, seeing him struggle like this. You wish he would have asked for help before now. “Joel?”, you tap his back. 

“Hm?”, Joel turns around and you reach his right arm. “Oh,” he says. Carefully, you do your best to painlessly help him out of his shirt, pulling his sleeve towards your body and keeping his arm as low as can be. You pull the rest of the shirt off of his body, catching a glimpse of his torso, his soft, pillowy belly. “Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“No problem.”

“I uh–,” Joel begins, turning away from you again and undoing his belt, “I’m gettin’ undressed and gettin’ in, okay?”

“Am I getting in there with you?”

“I’d reckon that’s probably easiest, yeah. And if ya don't wanna get your clothes wet, then you can take 'em off too,” Joel offers, “I don't wanna make you uncomfortable, so I'm keepin’ my eyes shut and facin’ the shower head the whole time so I don’t see anything I'm not ‘sposed to.”

“I appreciate that,” you reply. You’ve been through a lot with Joel, and truth be told, you’re both past the point of modesty, all that you’ve been through together. You have endless trust and respect for each other. Still though, you appreciate what he’s doing to keep you feeling safe and comfortable with him. A lot can be said about Joel, but he’s never been anything but respectful and considerate towards your safety and comfort. It doesn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll undress. Just give me a minute.”

“Not a problem,” Joel says. You face away from him as he takes off his belt, it lands with a clatter on the floor. Next his jeans and boxers, then each of his socks. You hear the sound of the shower curtain moving and his heavy footsteps in the bathtub. “M’done. Eyes stayin’ closed now.”

“Okay,” you say as you look at Joel through the shower curtain, unable to see much. You have no doubt he is, in fact, squeezing his eyes shut, but you smile to yourself when you notice where his arms lie. They’re resting across his body, his hands cupping his member securely. Oh, Joel. He’s a grump, but a gentleman nonetheless. 

After taking off your own clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor, you move the shower curtain aside and step inside of the tub. It’s a tight fit, despite being relatively spacious. There’s a built-in bench to the side of the shower where your soaps sit. Joel always complains you have too many lotions and potions taking up space, that they always fall on his toes when he bathes. Dramatic. 

 Immediately you’re in awe of Joel’s beauty. You can’t see his face, but you can see his back, freckled and scarred and striped with stretch marks here and there. Water trails down his neck and his spine. You can’t help but steal a peek of his ass, so firm and plump. He’s blessed, truly. 

“Doin’ okay?”, Joel interrupts your thoughts. 

“Oh– yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Gonna shampoo you now.”

“Get to it,” he tells you. 

You reach for your strawberry shampoo and squeeze a small amount into the palm of your hand, then reach up to lather it into Joel’s scalp. “I need you–”, using your hands to guide Joel to tilt his head back, “Yeah, like that. Thanks.”

“Mm,” he hums in response.  

You begin to wash Joel’s hair, building up a thick lather of bubbles. You pay special attention to the sides of his head, down towards his neck, scratching and massaging his scalp. It’s almost imperceptible, but you hear a slight groan, a soft exhale of relief as you scrub Joel’s head. Washing the hair near his neck, you toy with his curls, wrapping them around your fingers and watching them bounce and swing when you pull your hands away. You’re about to reach for more shampoo when you really see it– the bruise on his shoulder. It’s yellowing now, but there are still purple and blue splotches of his skin. “Fuck, Joel,” you mumble, tracing your fingers lightly over his bruise.

“Yeah, yeah.”

It was an accident. You know this, so you’ll spare Joel from your long-winded lecturing about taking care of himself. Instead, you just press a soft kiss to his bruise. 

“You– I um–”, Joel clears his throat, a little bashful now, “Need you to wash up by my hairline, f’ya wanna come up front here.”

“Yeah, of course,” you speak softly. You begin to scoot past Joel, but the tight fit of the two of you in the shower makes it difficult to move. You slip and reach for Joel’s arm. 

“Careful,” he warns you softly, “Here, I gotcha.” Joel, still keeping his eyes shut, holds your waist and helps guide you to stand in front of him. When you’re situated, he quickly protects his modesty once again.

You grab some more shampoo and reach for the front of his scalp. This time, you can admire more of him. His face, eyes scrunched tightly shut. Careful not to look at what he’s not supposed to. That little line between his eyebrows is more deep and prominent than usual. Water drips down the slope of his aquiline nose and his plump, rosy lips. Droplets cling to his wiry salt and pepper facial hair. He’s a work of fucking art. When Joel’s properly shampooed, you reach for the detachable shower head and start to rinse his hair, watching the strands fall on his forehead. 

You’re not sure exactly what happens, but in an instant, Joel is unexpectedly groaning and reaching for the shower head from your hand. You step back and watch him scramble to wipe his eyes and blink quickly. “Fuckin’, ahh,” he hisses, “Got soap in my eyes. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“S’okay, was an accident. Fuck,” Joel hands you the shower head and then wipes his eyes a few more times before he stops and stares at you before him, not even thinking about his rule. Fuck. He shuts his eyes quickly, but the damage is done. His mind is swimming with images of your body, the drops of water rolling down the curves of your breasts, your hips, thighs. His cock hardens almost instantly, and he hurries to cover himself again. “Fuck. I’m sorry. It’s not cause of you.”

“Okay, Joel,” you reply calmly. 

Joel groans. “No, it’s not like that, you– you’re– it’s…My shoulder’s been hurtin’, y’know how it’s been.” 

 “Mhm,” you hum, knowing where he’s going with this, “It’s okay.”

“Haven’t been able to take care of myself, uh…in that regard,” Joel clears his throat before continuing, “So I’m just a little wound up– oh–”

Joel’s interrupted when you step forward, reaching for his wrists to pull them away from his member. “I get it,” you whisper, “I can help with that too, if you’d like.”

“Jesus, fuck–”, Joel hisses as you touch his hips, his thighs, skating your fingers along his skin. He moans softly when your fingers lightly touch his heavy balls, the base of his cock, then trailing them up his shaft. “Quit– fuck – quit teasing me, hon. Not a smart idea.”

“I’m not teasing you, Joel.” 

Except Joel’s not listening. All he can think about is how fucking good it feels to be touched where he needs it most. He reaches for your hand, but doesn’t pull it away. Like he’s at battle with himself, doing what he thinks he’s supposed to do, not that he actually wants to. He wraps his fingers around yours, encouraging you to grip his cock tightly. But with his brow furrowed, he looks conflicted. “Don’t know what’s gotten into ya, but–”, he says shakily, “Hon– you gotta stop cause, fuck–”, he breathes, “Don’t think I have it in me– fuck – to walk away from you.”

“You don’t have to, Joel,” you coo quietly as you grip his cock tighter. You lean closer to Joel, wrapping one of your arms around his waist. Joel opens his eyes then, and you kiss his cheek, still stroking his cock. His thick head is nudging your hip as you work him, “Why don’t you let me help you with this?”

Joel nods, sighing in relief as he gives into you, gives into pleasure.  He’s been hard as a rock all week. Left hand just doesn’t do the trick, but yours, your hand does just fine. “Lord have mercy,” he gasps, “Thank you.” Rubbing your hand up and down his cock, you kiss his neck, then lower, his collarbones and his chest. Lower still, sinking to your knees as you kiss down that soft and pillowy tummy of his, trailing your tongue along that patch of hair that leads to his cock. You take his thick base in one hand and his ass in the other, then press sloppy kisses to his blushed tip, flicking your tongue over his soft skin. “Sweetheart,” he warns softly, “Doin’ too much for me.” 

“I don’t think so,” you tell him innocently before trailing your tongue along a prominent vein of his cock. 

“I disagree,” he mumbles quietly. Oh, Joel. Silly Joel. As if you’d satisfy him with just your hands. But this is as much for you as it is for Joel. You’ve spent a lot of time daydreaming about him, kissing him and fucking him. He’s who you think about at night with your hand between your thighs. So no, taking him in your mouth is not too much. It’s what you both need. 

Joel hums sweetly as you guide him to your mouth, his thick head parting your lips. You toy with him, swirling, flicking your tongue, alternating between taking him deeply and more shallow in your mouth. He’s warm and thick, just like you imagined. His cock feels heavy in your mouth as you take him deeper and deeper, hollowing your cheeks to massage him. You love his smooth skin, how he squirms and his hips stutter when you slide his cock to the back of your throat. As he gains more confidence, he begins to draw in and out of your mouth slowly, an action encouraging to both you and himself. 

“Good god,” Joel groans as you work his shaft, one hand still squeezing his ass cheek, the other now fondling his balls, cupping and squeezing them gently. You hum against him, sending vibrations down his shaft. He reaches down, stroking your cheek with soft and warm eyes as you work him. His hand finds the back of your head, grunting as he inches you forward to take him deeper. 

 “Not lastin’ long the way you–”, he  chokes out, a stuttered string of profanities following as you feel his cock stiffen and twitch under your tongue, spurting hot ropes of his spend down your throat. It’s salty and warm and masculine, taking you by surprise. His orgasm surprises himself, too. You don’t mind, though. In fact, it’s flattering the way he’s come undone for you so quickly, so desperately. Poor Joel, so worked up and bent out of shape all week. Probably part of the reason he’s been so cranky.

He takes heaving breaths above you, his chest rising and falling steadily as he stares down at you in admiration. He’s got the kindest eyes. When you pull off of his cock, he offers his hand to you, helping you back to your feet. He thanks you again, then apologizes for finishing how he did. You assure him that you don’t mind a bit. “M’not gonna leave ya high and dry, you know,” he says, “You just give me a few days to get myself right and I’ll take good care of you. Return the favor and all that good stuff. Hm?”

Sure, Joel, you think, nodding to him. He nods back at you, feeling good and satisfied, already dreaming about getting you off in a few short days. How soft and wet your pussy will be, pulsing around his cock, all for him. He’ll make you come just as hard as he did, if not harder. He can see it now, he’ll have you falling to pieces under his tongue and his fingers. He just needs to fucking heal first. While Joel’s been favoring his right arm quite a bit, he still hasn’t been taking it as easy as he should have been. But he’s got a woman waiting on him now, and healing is his top priority. 

Joel smiles, you smile sweetly back at him as you wrap an arm around his waist for stability and set one of your feet on the ledge of the bathtub. His smile contorts into a confused frown as he watches you take your free hand and snake it between yours and Joel’s bodies, your fingers toying with your center. “Whatcha doin’?”, Joel asks. 

“Oh, you know,” you reply plainly. You sigh softly, tilting your head back as one of your fingers circles your hole. 

“No, no, no, no,” Joel protests, “No, thought you were gonna wait your turn.” 

“My turn’s right now,” you breathe, now dipping a finger into your entrance, curling it and swirling it around. “You’re not the only one with needs.”

“I know you got needs, hon, thought we just agreed I’d be the one to take care of ‘em,” he tries, “Right?”

“It’s alright,” you purr, “I got it.”

It’s almost cartoonish, how Joel’s expression turns from one of satisfaction and bliss to betrayal and astonishment. “I don’t like this,” he mutters, “It’s teasin’ me, you know.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whimper softly, your fingers now rubbing over your clit, “What don’t you like?”

“Uh, that,” he spits, “Don’t like hearin’ you moanin’ my name when I’m not the one touchin’ ya. Don’t like that at all.”

You pout, “Oh, you can touch me,” you offer as you take his left hand into your own, sliding it up your body. He thumbs the plump underside of your breast and glides his fingers over your nipple, feeling it harden beneath his touch. 

“Oh, real nice. You’re playin’ dirty,” he accuses, “You’re nothin’ but trouble. Shoulda known.”

You don’t bother replying as you begin to trace steady circles into your clit, dipping your fingers at your entrance to collect more of your arousal. Your fingers slip and slide through your folds with such ease. 

Joel growls, squeezing your breast harshly one last time before his arm finds your waist and he pulls you flush against his body. With your head still tilted back as you whimper quietly, Joel takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, biting and nipping at your hot, dampened skin. It only fuels you. “Joel,” you cry, “Fuck, oh my god,” as that warm, sticky feeling deep in your gut is beginning to build.

Joel watches you, conflicted. How sweet his name sounds falling from your lips with your broken, honeyed moans, but Jesus, he needs to be the one touching you like that, not you. He should have known it’d turn out this way, that you’d revel in having this one-up on him. Your fucking audacity. I made you come so hard you saw stars, and I’m doing the same thing to myself. And you can’t do a single thing about it. Ha. Ha. 

Joel holds you tighter when your cries begin to get louder as you reach your peak, your knees beginning to buckle. You moan frantically, loudly, and Joel watches you knit your brows together and your mouth drops open as you begin to fall apart. Your fingers massage your clit faster, harder, feeling that tension in your gut snap and splinter as waves of pleasure overtake you, washing over your body. With your eyes shut, you feel it deep in your stomach, down the back of your thighs, riding out your orgasm on your own fingers as Joel holds you close to his body.

When you finally open your eyes, Joel’s glaring at you. He says nothing. Deep down, he knew you’d probably end up taking care of yourself tonight, but in front of him? You’ve got some fucking nerve. 

When your breathing slows, Joel lets you go. He stares at you, unimpressed, mouth slightly agape. You take the opportunity to slide two of your fingers past his lips, letting him taste your sweet arousal on his tongue. His brows furrow and his eyes flutter shut as he groans deeply, hungrily. “Seriously?”

You nod with a smile, then press a quick kiss on his lips before shimmying past him to reach for your towel. You dry off and step out of the tub, and when you look back at Joel, he wears a scowl. 

“You’re the fuckin’ devil.” 

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