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MIKE FAIST as Dodge Mason in Panic (2021)

#need him

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OSCAR ISAAC as JONATHAN SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE 1.01 INNOCENCE AND PANIC

#dreamy sigh

[moreofem]

DESTINY'S CHILD | Girl (2004)

[moreofem]

I’m feral. I’m rabid. I’m ravenous. I’m jumping off the walls. Im clawing at my enclosure. I need. I yearn. I need that old man RIGHT NOW

So Much Goddamn Talkin’

Joel Miller x Black F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes Joel has to quiet the noise in your head. Luckily he’s quite good at that.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, post outbreak—Jackson era, mutual pining, friends to lovers vibe, established relationship, some mentions of anxiety, feelings and fluff, competency kink, soft dom!joel vibes, smut: oral (both receiving), fingering, soft intense PiV, unprotected sex, praise kink, daddy kink, come marking

*reader is written and described as black but anyone is welcome and encouraged to read!

Word Count: 6k

Currently obsessed with the thought of older, domestic Joel in a relationship and couldn’t stop myself from getting carried away! Enjoy!

It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d ever spoken to Joel.

On the contrary, what had started as a timid friendship became something else entirely with one spontaneous kiss that only the stars bore witness to that night. 

A silly dream of romance had landed right in your lap despite the crumbling of the old world behind you, taking everything with it and yet they took your breath away constantly, like a whirlwind, two grounding anchors were now tethered to your heart and their names were Joel and Ellie. 

So why were you so nervous? 

Sighing softly, you decided to blame it on the watchful glances Joel was giving you from across the yard, distracting you from the book you were reading. Eye contact with him could feel like the most searing heat, spreading like wildfire and at the same time the deepest depths of comfort. 

Not always being a man of many words, the things he could express with a simple look or the weight of a hand fascinated you, made you fall so dangerously hard and with a certainty you’d never felt before. 

Therefore you reasoned it simply couldn’t be your fault for being distracted and wanting him so much right now. Not when he made you feel this way without even having to try very hard. 

You just needed to take a moment to soak it all in, a blooming hope carried in on the breeze now that it was the beginning of spring in Jackson, the wildflowers and planted seeds starting to sprout, and the soil and your own souls teeming with life after so long spent just surviving. Now there was space for healing. 

Space for you to sit in the rocking chair Joel had worked on for months as a birthday present to you, or watch him get around to all the house projects (because once a contractor always a contractor) and strum out the prettiest chords on his guitar late in the evenings out on the porch. 

This felt more like living and you never wasted a moment to covet it. 

“You’re doing an awful lot of staring, Miller.” You looked up from the same page for the fifth time to catch him already looking your way. 

He blinked and put another nail into the wood post he was working on. 

“Hm, well damn right I am when you look the way you do. Now if I told you it’s been at least ten minutes since you’ve turned a page in that book you just might have to admit you’ve been starin’ too.” 

There was that little smirk you knew so well, dancing on his lips as if he knew just how much it would drive you crazy, the confirmation that you hadn’t been subtle in the slightest either. 

“Well, you’re out here giving me a show.” You make a point to turn to the next page then, looking away before he could throw you a look at the sass in your tone. 

He was right of course but what he didn’t know was that reading had started all this to begin with. 

The tattered novel had been a surprise find on a patrol one day and came with an unexpected eroticism, bits of dialogue and tantalizing imagery on the page you were stuck on making your mind wander and wonder. 

It’s why you felt a little nervous, caught off guard, suddenly wishing you were in bed and underneath him. 

He flashes his teeth at you, that smirk widening into a smile at your reply, his attention returning to the tools in his hands but your own continued to linger. Remembering. 

A few nights before in particular, when he was fucking into you so deep you had to bite the sheets to keep your moans down. You could still picture the definition of his arms as they cradled you and kept the headboard from colliding into the wall at the same time. 

Or how good you knew it felt when his broad palms swat across your ass, never failing to make you yield to him with such eagerness. 

You wished you could have your hands on him now, petting, feeling, showing him how much he was desired and cared for, how much you wanted to be filled by him, stretched out and aching with nothing but his name in your mind and on the tip of your tongue for hours.

Those stray thoughts had you turning back a page, leaning into the slow burning fire lit underneath you. 

Still unsure of how to initiate these desires, you didn’t want to distract him from something he’d been trying to get around to doing for awhile and at the same time felt a thrill at the idea of tugging him away, leading him to bed. 

With some hesitation you decided to bide your time for a bit longer, getting caught up in words that made you squirm imagining Joel doing and saying them. 

God, you weren’t sure how much more of this you could keep up, feeling the slick pooling of arousal between your thighs, the way you wanted to grind against nothing already. 

Joel finished repairing the post in no time and moved on to patch up a hole in the wall of the old shed, unaware of your internal dilemma. 

Eventually he gathered up his tools and stored them away, told you he was gonna head in and wash up but that you should keep relaxing out here for as long as you wanted and he’d get started on preparing things for dinner later. 

He left you with a kiss to your temple and the lingering familiarity of his touch. Handsome and sweet, he was going to be the death of you. 

Your mind felt too restless to keep sitting but you took him up on the suggestion just for awhile longer, trying to find the right way to move things in the direction you wanted. Family dinner wasn’t for another four hours and Ellie would be here a bit early but there was still time and you wanted to make the most of it. 

So you finished off another chapter and finally closed the novel, ushered inside with the echo of birdsongs and the steady thumping of your heart in your ribs. 

–

Joel had been so sure you hadn’t noticed his repeated stares as much as he’d noticed yours, bowing his head under the warm spray of the shower he could only think of how pretty you looked sitting there while he worked, fond of the fact that you liked to be next to him even if he was occupied.  

At first he couldn’t wrap his head around it and was almost too unnerved and bewildered by the fact that you took such an interest. 

Not at all used to someone touching him or looking at him like he was their entire world but that’s the only way you looked at him and as much as he had tried to be measured, tried not to get attached, he had come around to the idea of a relationship again. 

Loving people was frightening, something he felt he’d lost the ability to do properly after all these years, all the blood staining his hands and his conscience.

He had lost so much, seen too much death and feared he would only bring ruin, that he would lose her too, until you came along and turned everything he thought he knew on its head. 

Oh what secrets and stories of loss he had told you in the quiet of night, when old nightmares and new guilts collided and kept him from sleeping though that was much less these days now that you slept by his side every night. 

It had been a long time since he’d shared his bed and now it made him smile thinking of how natural it felt to wake up next to you, how easy it was to be around you, in the quiet moments he could see how the foundations you’d both built together had been made solid and steadfast over time. 

Silly to think how he fretted over ruining his friendship with you all that time ago, the way everyone was sick of him in the days leading up to when he would finally ask if you were interested because they all knew he had nothing to worry about and those worries in his head were swiftly put to rest when you tugged at his shirt to pull him closer and asked what had taken him so long.

He’d never forget that moment. 

Joel thought then that this was the moment he knew but quickly learned there would actually be a collection of moments–several times a day–that would remind him just how hooked on you he really was.

Like the times he showed his age and your sweet giggles and clever retorts always followed soon after, or how much he’s come to love the summertime because your brown skin basked in the sunlight is like art to him and he relishes every chance he gets to see you exactly as you are.

You brought a fullness and meaning to life here, encouraging him to slow down, to breathe. Taking care of one another made him stronger, nourished in ways he didn’t think were possible.  

“Honey.”

He grits the word out like he’s trying to call you up here, reminded of how lucky he felt to have you, to be so connected.

Watching you walk around batting your eyes acting like you don’t know that it’s the pretty, round edges of your nose, the smile lines, the plush of your hips and that glowing thing inside you beating in your chest that drives him crazy. 

Simply put, he was impressed by you. Constantly. You could handle yourself, skilled in your own right, already handy with weapons long before he was in your life and even more proficient now, deadly, with the things he’d taught you since. 

You were resourceful and calm in tricky situations or when quick medical training was needed and yet none of the carnage of infected and worse terrors ever changed the soft way you tended to people, almost like you couldn’t help but give a little extra love. 

And you had certainly spared many an ounce of that love for him; he’d forgotten how good it felt to smile this much over someone, can’t remember the last time he felt this way and definitely can’t remember the last time he’s seen his Ellie look at someone with such admiration either. 

Everything about you captured his attention and he was grateful to be able to live some sort of life again after so much heartache, after believing he could never have these kinds of things for himself. 

Those hands of his could scorch the Earth but you made him understand they could build things too, could show love and give pleasure just as well and just as fiercely. 

Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was doing a good job of it. 

All he knew was that he never wanted to let you go and that was enough for him. 

–

When you venture into the bedroom you find him getting dressed, hair tousled from being towel dried, another wave of aching bloomed in your core as you thank yourself for having nudged him into letting it grow out a bit during the colder months. 

He looked so handsome doing nothing at all in particular you were sure you’d implode if you didn’t just come out with it, you just hope he wouldn’t mind doing some undressing again. 

“Hey, honey.” 

His voice was low and gentle, the familiar pet name in his usual smooth rasp made you stride forward, sending you surging into his arms so that you were squished against his chest. He tilted his head at you just slightly in question before you were pressing your lips to his.

Your mouths met so tenderly at first, fingertips bursting with a nervous energy as they reached for his shirt, grasping needily as you lost yourself in the slow ease of the way he kissed you back.

But a little spark of anxiety makes you tense, overthinking the kiss, feeling a little silly for just how turned on you were, how much he could see it written all over you, dripping quite literally in desperation even if you tried to reason with yourself that you knew there wasn’t anything wrong with that. 

“J-Joel…shit,” you whined and huffed through sloppy kisses, slowly finding yourself being walked backwards and held firm against the closest wall, “Oh…we don’t have to do this if-” 

“The hell are you goin’ on about?” Joel grumbled against the column of your neck and all ability to articulate went out the window.

Rationally you knew it was a pretty good indication he wasn’t bothered by the spontaneity from the way those strong hands of his were already underneath your shirt, pinching almost in the haste to grip your flesh but you were already overthinking and it held persistent. 

“Just…if you’re tired, I understand. We can wait till tonight. I don’t want you to feel obligated.” Your words were huffed out in nervous gasps, trying to will your knees not buckle when his scruff teased a swipe across your jaw. 

Joel pulled back then so you’d have to look at him, knowing the anxious flit of your lashes well. 

He knew what to watch for, patient when you needed reassurance that you were free to run wild with your desires, that he was never tired of having you bare and wrapped around him at any hour of the day but this was of no consequence, he’d make sure you knew where he stood.

Shaking his head, he doesn’t give you more than a moment to suck in a breath before his hands leave your waist to hold your face. 

“So much goddamn talkin’, sweetheart,” the words are a heavy growl against your lips in between heavier kisses, “Think I need to remind you of some things and put those thoughts out of your mind, yeah?” 

Your whole body felt hot, flushed with desire and aching for whatever he was going to do to remind you, nodding before your tongue could catch up with your agreeing thoughts. 

“Let me show you.” Joel caged you in against the wall, broad shoulders blocking everything else out. 

The steady rise and fall of his chest became your focal point and new arousal sparked at his attentiveness, so easily able to soothe, to make you unravel for him. 

“Please, I want you so much.” Your softly sighed plea turned into a whine when you were crushed to his chest again and this time there were no reservations to the embrace.

He was so good at this, making you burn for him so often you wondered sometimes how you were able to get anything done.

Hungry fingers pushed the collar of his flannel back, jeans already unbuttoned for your wandering attention to latch onto and he encouraged it with a push of his hips against yours. 

It’s an easy movement, dropping to your knees like you’ve done a hundred times before to see how just a simple kiss already had him stiff and straining against denim, teasing the kind of thickness you so badly wanted to fill your throat with. 

Your mouth watered, fingers outstretched to wrap around hot skin the moment his cock was free, unable to stop yourself now. Joel’s rough sigh following the steady pump of your hands made you glance up, meeting the intensity of his gaze and you held it there for a moment before your tongue was tasting him. 

“Look at you...already have it in your mouth like the quick learner you are,” He hissed through his teeth and you could feel where he throbs against the hollow of your cheek. 

Pride swells in your chest from the praise, knowing the tone of his voice meant the restrained edge of patience from letting you tease him back was slipping.

You could feel it in the flex of muscle underneath your hands where they’re braced on his thighs and you hoped he was proud watching your lips stretch around him, head bobbing nice and easy the way you know he liked it.

You’re unconcerned with being neat about it, slicking him up with your mouth and still trying to take him deeper, trying to take all of him in fact. 

You liked to flirt with dreams of your nose being pressed snug against Joel’s pelvis, wanted to feel him through your entire chest even if burned because there was sweetness in being deprived of oxygen like that. Call it an unwavering trust. 

You gave in to the feeling and kept your eyes focused upwards on him, trying to relax your jaw despite all the anticipation, happy to let him take control. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl. Stay just like that.” 

Listening is hardly even a thought when you’ve hung onto his every word, every movement, not minding the strain in your jaw as he rocked his hips into the wet heat of your mouth. Tongue swirling over his shaft, the thick head of him, desperate to earn it, to make him curse and growl out your name. 

The pressure of his fingers against your jaw and then the back of your head had you moaning, trying to speak while he fucks your mouth. 

“P-please, make me take it.” Your heart lept with each languid thrust of his hips sliding deep so he could feel the softening of your throat.

He’d give you whatever you asked for when you whimpered like that. 

Firm and sweet was his grip, raspy grunts and cursed out praises that flowed from his mouth even sweeter to your ears as your tongue slid over the soft, sensitive head of his cock and back down the length of him. 

You’re insatiable and any anxious thoughts still rattling around in your mind were quickly fading, replaced with his touch, his smell, his taste. The salty smear on your taste buds had you pressing your thighs together, craving relief.

“Good girl, yeah that’s it. Startin’ to understand now, sweetheart?” 

Your head tipped forward and the only response you could give was a heady moan, doing your best to nod knowing how much he’d like seeing that, the tears already welling along your lashes from the effort but you didn’t mind.

Knowing you made him tip his head back, a heavy palm braced against the wall above your head while he grunted out curses and filthier praise made you feel a dozen more times ravenous, encouraging him to keep going with sloppy, wet whimpers that were barely held back from your kiss swollen lips, stretched over every thick inch of him you could take. 

“Love watching you choke on it, honey. Fuck that's good, show me how much you can fit.” 

The sight of him is something you hoped to never forget, searching for and finding the slight snarl of his lips when the tip hits the back of your mouth and the flex of his biceps when you slide your tongue around to lick the underside of him. 

Joel could barely hold himself back, the urge to bury himself in your throat almost overwhelming but he wanted more than that, he wanted to reward you for listening so well, for how much you make him feel.  

It had been building all day and he knew you had to feel it too. He was loath to pull you off his cock, an ache through his chest at your desperate cries from the loss of contact but he was quick to remedy that with a searing kiss.  

You melt and are grateful your knees are already on the floor when your tongue meets his. It was so messy, hungry and neither of you cared. 

“Get on the bed. Go on, darlin’.” Joel’s voice sounded like warm syrup, covering you in adoring instruction, taking you and leading you where he knows is best. 

And god do you love when he was in this mood, nothing but a filthy edge to his affections. 

So you complied, ignoring the twinge in your tummy as you moved to the bed, sprawling out across sheets that smell like the both of you. 

He watches you get comfortable, loosening a few buttons and those jeans finally discarded on the floor before the distance is closed and he’s all over you. 

Every touch and caress was intentional as he undresses like he’s unwrapping a present, greedy for all of you but so passionate, so easily able to steal your breath at the same time, slowing down the tempo now that your legs have fallen open and there’s nothing left covering you. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy…and she’s all mine.” Joel admires you for a moment, firm hands tickling your thighs while his thumbs circled the soft, sensitive junction of your thigh so close to where you wanted him most. 

The praise has you sighing breathlessly, peeking down to see the way he was looking at where you glisten, a sureness to his features that made you feel safe all while the clench of his jaw sent goosebumps across your arms.

You want to echo that he’s right but he doesn’t let you have the chance, a broad palm sliding down over the hair covering your mound, tugging at it gently before two thick fingers are swirling over your folds. 

Muscles jolting, you were rocking up into a touch that is so expert and familiar you are helpless against it.

“Joel, oh! That feels so good,” You’re panting, trying to catch your breath while your body responds to the tight circles he was rubbing against your clit.

“Yeah? ‘Can tell. You’re so slick, honey. Did suckin’ me off get you this worked up?” 

Your nod is pure reflex, hips grinding against his movements needing to chase the pleasure that was slowly oozing its way into your system. 

It’s only something he can do and he’s so steady, so thorough with you even as you squirm, those two fingers now stroking at your entrance eliciting sounds that sparked heat in your cheeks and spread down to your chest. 

You want to be as connected to him as you can, almost pleading for him to sink inside you already just desperate to feel completely surrounded by him. 

And Joel can’t seem to grasp enough of you under his hands, gone for the way you cling to him as he fits his middle finger inside, marveling at the way your walls take him in. 

He would never get over your strangled little cry at being stretched around his knuckles. 

“I asked a question, lemme hear you.” He spoke a little more loosely, his Texan drawl slightly heavier now. 

“Yes, yes,” you’re remembering yourself after a moment, “Fuck, yes I love sucking your dick.” 

The words are shameless, falling from your lips as a promise, a proclamation that you know he feels the weight of when he leans in to kiss you again, muffling your sounds while he slides a second finger in alongside the first that’s filling you so perfectly. 

Any concept of time or day is somewhere in the background muted, far away and suddenly you know you’re right where you should be, right where you belong, no traces of anxious thoughts lurking any longer.   

You could sink into these sensations now, enjoying how his kisses had moved to your neck exploring the sensitive spots and smiling against your skin when a new one is found because he loves feeling you clench around him when he does. 

It’s a gift to Joel, being able to draw out this kind of bliss in you. 

He wanted you to feel good, wanted to be the one to make your world shatter and then piece it back together again when you came down to the ground. 

Your eyes rolled shut when he plunged deeper, the pads of his fingers massaging at your walls in tandem with what his mouth was doing between the valley of your chest and further down to where your stomach fluttered. 

Somewhere in the haze of it all you realize his mouth was at your thighs, the white hot touch of his lips closing around a stretch of supple flesh bringing another wave of heat before he’s licking gently, bruising a mark into your skin that only he will know is there later. 

“I could spend hours like this, you know that? Could have you makin’ such a pretty mess all over my hands, all over our bed…and I know you love when I do this.” Joel husks before he’s finally tasting you properly. 

He starts at your clit, tongue flattened against you in anticipation of the inevitable flex of your legs, determined to keep you right where he wants and you’re already so far gone for him and this moment that your head tilts back against the pillows in a gasp. 

You feel almost weightless as you succumb to the pleasure and how he presses his mouth into your pussy like he wants to devour it. You’re sure you’d let him swallow you whole if it kept feeling like this. 

It’s not even a question really, you know you would, until you’re between sinew and bone and part of him forever. 

The plunge and curl of his fingers combined with the flick of his tongue had you panting, heat skittering across your body while your hips circled on their own accord.

“More! Please, Joel!” It’s a chant and a sob all rolled in one and you don’t care how needy it sounds. 

He keeps going, lapping at your sex greedily until you’re clenching down around his fingers and your toes are curling, crying out for him not to stop as you hurtle towards the cliff’s edge.

Skin dewy and alive, you decide that you don’t want to spare anything, not when he’s watching you as hungrily as he eats. 

You give him all your sounds, all your pleas, handing him your body and your heart at once. 

It’s amazing how it doesn’t take long for him to have you so close, right at the precipice, forgoing his own breaths to keep pace, to give you what your body is singing out for and when you finally let go, when your orgasm is finally coaxed from you he only presses his face into you further, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could in hopes of seeing that soft sweet look in your eyes afterwards.

“Attagirl, doin so well.” The words are a tether. 

He’d take care of you and that’s perhaps what made it so easy to surrender yourself to the passion of the moment knowing it would linger long after you were both spent. 

“Mmm you should see yourself right now,” Joel hummed, licking his lips while you attempted to catch your breath, “I always want you, don’t forget that yeah?” 

The last part catches your attention through the curtain of bliss, a serious shift in his tone telling you that he meant every word; you had no reason to second guess yourself over your desires and he was making sure of that. 

You nodded and sat up to reach for him, nevermind how you still trembled, your desire to be close to him was stronger than ever now. 

“I need you, Joel! Please, I’ve been so good…” Your words tug at him, you can tell they do by the way he ruts his hips against the edge of the bed. 

He crushed his mouth to yours before you could finish speaking, a much welcome relief, the burning flame inside you quelled for a moment. 

“Sure have been, honey and I think good girls should be rewarded.” He nipped at your ear, stealing your breath with his words. 

And even further when his flannel joined his jeans on the floor, climbing back onto the bed to follow the path of your body with his own, framing your limbs and wrapping you up in his embrace like you were made to fit against his chest. 

Your legs fall open again to wrap around his waist as he settles some of his weight down against your hips, just giving you a taste, calling back memories and reminding you, funnily enough, of that novel you were reading earlier. 

It felt like you were suddenly amongst the pages, chest heaving, your core tender and dripping as the man of your dreams was about to show you how much you’re his in every way.

Fairytales didn’t exist in this world but you felt like you were in one right now.

A giddy and timid smile spread across your face when Joel trailed warm hands down your body, catching on the bend of your elbow, wrapping around your ribcage to settle on the crest of your ass as he puts more of his weight down and uses his shoulders to nudge your legs apart and back towards your chest. 

The air felt thicker but your breathing seemed to even out, everything in your body thrumming with energy and an intensity neither of you could ignore any longer. 

Reaching down between your bodies you wrap a hand around where he’s thick and throbbing, guiding him closer with a soft smile, feeling how heavy he hangs in your hand, fingers pinching his skin when he rocks against your folds, the dirty sounds of his cock gliding through your stickiness. 

Joel groans against your forehead, holding himself steady as your hips buck into his touch, the tip pressing against your entrance and finally, slowly, sinking inside. 

Your moans are twined together in the quiet room. The stretch makes you keen, hands fumbling and grasping at strong shoulders, grateful he lets you have a moment to adjust. 

But it’s not long before you’re squirming again, whining for him to go deeper, to fill you to the hilt and he made good on his promises to do exactly that. 

He keeps your hips tilted up with the press of his palm underneath you, meeting little resistance the more he splits you open and it does something to him to see how much of a mess you are and he’s barely fucked you yet. 

“You can do it, know you can…there you go.” Joel pulls back to give a shallow thrust, lips brushing your temple and a hand coming up to cradle your cheek. 

The drag of his cock against your walls was everything, steady thrusts building up the tension coiling in your belly, fantasies from your novel melding with reality.

You felt like you were floating, your toes pointing when he changed the angle, brushing against a spot that had you crying out, ankles trying to lock around his torso.

Pressing heavier and faster with his hips however, your legs stay spread, the beginnings of a tremble rippling through your muscles now that he’s caught on. 

His pace remained measured and deep, just the way you were begging for it, and he’s content to watch your brows pinch, your jaw slacken, content to hear every gasp of air and pretty sobs  mixed in with your moans driving him crazy every time they slip from clenched teeth. 

“Shit, I love watching you take me like this.” He cooed. 

You can feel the heavy slap of his balls colliding with your ass when he pounds into you again and soon your hands slip from sweaty skin, scratching down his chest to pull at the sheets, so overwhelmed with feeling but never wanting it to stop.

“Daddy...Please, please keep going.”

You’re so caught up in the moment you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud, glassy eyes moving up from where you were trying to peek between your bodies to meet Joel’s careful gaze, only half registering how they widen for a moment. 

He’s taken aback for just a second, almost questioning whether he heard it correctly but something’s been knocked loose within him now, his cock twitching from the reverence and adoration in your tone, bestowing him with a title he suddenly wanted to earn. 

Joel was a grown man and had lived through many hells to be able to have you bare and underneath him like this, he reasoned he deserved to have a little fun in the bedroom especially when he hadn’t expected to be so affected.

“Ah so that’s what you’ve been reading in that book of yours. Just wanted Daddy to fuck you all day is that it, sweetheart? Yeah, I gotcha now.” He rasped low against the crook of your neck and started to fuck you harder. 

His grip on you was less gentle but still just as passionate, the force of his thrusts stealing your ability to think properly. He wanted to make you say it again. 

The burning in your cheeks only subsided a little at his acceptance, more heat flooding you from head to toe at being called out, wondering how he knew it was something you read in your novel, if it had been that obvious. 

It didn’t matter now, you see where his dark eyes have narrowed, ready to make you come again with this newfound discovery. 

So you try and be good for him while you moan and clench down on his length, your pussy swollen and aching but tingling for everything he could give you, “Yes, daddy! Just…oh! I couldn’t help it. Thank you, daddy!” 

He knows you’re close, a familiar frenzy to your breathing, the slick wet sounds between your legs, it’s everything he dreams of and more, torn between watching your face as you come or watching the way his cock shines with your release. 

With a few more strokes and the soft rubbing of his thumb against your clit you shatter, face pressing against the meat of his shoulder while you ride it out, feeling weightless in his embrace. 

It makes you giggle when you can’t keep your head up any longer, neck lolling back against the pillow where he cradles your head in his hands, keeping you in place as he finds his own release swiftly after yours, pulling out to cover your puffy folds in hot ropes of his come. 

You would never tire of being made a mess, even if you knew you’d be sore tomorrow, nothing quite ever beat the feeling of being fucked out like the way Joel could have you.

“Baby…” you’re breathless and bursting with emotion, “Thank you for that. Think I really needed it,” You laugh against his chest and sigh.

You’re almost too nervous still to look at him after your slip of the tongue but you know deep down there’s nothing you have to be worried about. 

“Of course, honey. Anytime, and I mean that.” 

–

You’re not sure how much time has passed, drifting in and out of a dreamy slumber still cradled against Joel, only now you realize you’ve been cleaned up and tucked under the covers but you don’t mind, you know you can simply lay here and soak it all in, he would take care of you. 

Racing thoughts no longer buzz around in your head, all you can feel and see is Joel and you smile to yourself knowing the intimacy you just shared still lingered in your body, love etched in your fingertips where they’re laced in his hand against his stomach. 

His lips press against your temple and you close your eyes again letting yourself be swept away with the sweet drawl of an “I love you.” in your ears and the gentle evening sun warming you both.

—

A/N: This was actually lowkey inspired by that scene where Joel is leading Ellie, Henry and Sam down the street after they come out of the tunnels and Joel just shakes his head and goes “so much goddamn talkin’.’ while looking like an annoyed father because they’re all being too loud…got very hung up on that bit of dialogue and could not let it go so here we are!

Also hope I added the daddy kink bit here in tastefully, it’s a fave of mine and I struggled a bit to think of how to incorporate it in a way that felt real for Joel so I only just dipped my toe in with it here but I hope you liked it! 👀

Thank you for reading <3

some no pressure tags! 💫 @eupheme @ozarkthedog @moreofem @tinydramatist @black-fairy3 @federalchickensoup @fluffyprettykitty @persona-enthusiast @moonstruksandco @ghotifishreads @communism-bitches

#fic rec #OOO THIS WAS SO NASTY AND SWEET MY GOD #fave fics #🫦🫦🫦🫦

[moreofem]

COWBOY CARTER x BEYONCÉ

[moreofem]

Beyoncé for Cowboy Carter, 2024.

[moreofem]

Beyoncé for Cowboy Carter, 2024.

[moreofem]

Beyoncé for Cowboy Carter, 2024.

[moreofem]

Beyoncé for Cowboy Carter, 2024.

[moreofem]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃

summary: while doing a deal with Marc, Joel comes to collect your debt.

pairing: (mob enforcer!Joel Miller x afab!reader) x dealer!Marc Spector.

warnings: 18+ mdni. dub con -> read responsibly. alt universe. soft!dark. no physical descriptors of reader. power imbalance. threats. debt to the mob. weed. no m/m. oral sex (f&m). rough sex. dirty talk. spit roasting. shotgunning. aftercare. w.c. 4.2k

author's note: honestly, this started out as pure filth/pwp, then it turned into so much more. there is potential for multiple parts, mostly revolving around Joel x reader. don't hold me to it, but like i said, this took on a life of its own, and now i'm madly in love with mob enforcer!Joel.

huge thank you to @ghotifishreads for beta-ing and being such a wonderful, supportive friend.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

The carpet in your tiny living room was slowly developing a hole from your pacing back and forth. You love this apartment. Sure, the faucets drip, and the dingy wallpaper started peeling the day you moved in, but it was all yours. 

Since you moved to the big city after leaving home, you took any job you could find. You knew starting out on your own would be tough, but you could grin and bear it. Anything was better than small-town life. You wanted adventure, to see what the world had to offer.

What you didn’t plan on was getting involved with the wrong kind of people. 

When you fell months behind on rent, a co-worker mentioned she knew someone who could help. 

It was too good to be true, you thought, as you slowly walked into a smokey nightclub around midnight. Uptempo Spanish music played in the background as patrons drank at the bar, loudly singing and chattering. You tread deeper into the club, entering a VIP section where multiple gorgeous women sat on the laps of intimidating, finely dressed men in expensive suits. 

Various sets of eyes spot you the moment you cross the threshold, but only one set feels like they’re burning into your soul.

An unnerving man with piercing brown eyes holds your wary gaze. He’s draped in a long, brown leather coat, and streaks of gray pepper his temples. He stands to the side, leaning against the wall, and watches with intrigue as you shift nervously on your feet. 

His arms are crossed. A mustache tops his lips, which are etched in a permanent scowl as if he’s a dog that’s been kicked too many times. Still, he’s among the most handsome men you’ve seen since coming to the city.

He pushed off the wall with his broad shoulders, finally breaking his stare, and leaned down to whisper in the ear of a younger man seated at the head of the table, presumably his boss. 

“You need a little help, Sugar?” the younger man asked. 

His dark hair is a mess of curls, and his cheekbones look like they could cut glass. “I could use some help around the club. There’s always a gentleman in need of some company.” His fingers traced along a woman's nylon thigh as he looked you up and down. His coy lips tugged into a smirk as the group quietly laughed. 

The brown-eyed man's face grimaced at the younger man's tone. You want to curl in on yourself. The smoke in the air makes it hard to breathe. “Uh, no,” you start, tonguing your dry lips. “I just need to borrow some money.” 

The younger man purses his lips and nods. “That can be arranged. Joel here will take care of you.” He motioned to the older man on his right and looked you over with a curious gaze before waving you away.

Joel, the mob boss's right-hand man, meets you in the dingy alley behind the club. Water drips off the corner of the rooftop from the storm that blew through earlier in the day. A gust of cool fall air blows through, and you hug yourself to keep warm.

You learn that Joel was a no-nonsense man, straight to the point. Clear and precise.

He thrusts a heavy bag into your hands, and the leather handle creaks under the weight. “You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. Orange hues lit his features sinisterly as if he were a demon or creature from hell's depths.

You stood your ground, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.” 

Joel’s eyes go soft. It’s the first time he looks human since you first saw him. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, shaking his head. He blows a long gust of smoke from his nose. “He expects to be paid, with interest, by the end of the month.”

You teethe your bottom lip with a nod as nauseous worry swarms your belly.  

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you,” he states, thumbing at his lips. “Just so we know you haven’t run off with our money.”

Your eyes widen, and your knees slightly buckle. “No! I don’t plan on taking off. You don’t have to worry about that.” You trip over your words, frantically making sure he knows you won’t rip them off.   

He chuckles at the sight. It’s a deep, dark rumble from years of smoking and drinking, and it makes your cunt throb. “We don’t think you will, but it’s part of the job. Besides, having to keep track of such a pretty face ain’t so bad.” he muses, a light smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

An anxious, breathy laugh puffs from your chest. You hesitantly wring the leather handle as your eyes fall to the wet pavement.

A horn blares in the distance. Angry drivers yell into the night, breaking the perilous spell between you and the enforcer. 

“If you ever need help with anythin', let me know, okay?” he offers before turning on his heel and returning to the club.

“How will I contact you? With a bat signal or something?” You asked quizzically.

He chuckled again, and it set your heart on fire. “Just call the club and ask for me, sweetheart.”

You were truly and utterly fucked. 

It was the end of the month. Joel would arrive at 5pm to collect, and you had $50 measly dollars left in your bank account.

You’d squared up with your landlord and then some, paying for a few months in advance to show how grateful you were that he didn’t kick you out on the streets. What you didn’t plan on was getting fired from your job. You desperately tried to find another one, but you knew it was pointless as the end of the month slowly crept.

A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You scramble to open it, thankful your dealer was around today. You badly needed a smoke to curb your anxiety and impending doom.

Marc stands on your doorstep, beaming with his classic lopsided smile. “How’s it going?” He asks, making the short trip over to your couch, unbuttoning his long, black, and gray tweed coat before plopping down with a sigh. 

“Uh, fine,” you reply quickly. “You know. Same old.” 

“Same shit, different day, as I like to say.”  He scratches his trimmed beard with a coy grin. He looks really good today. Dark gray hair gelled and tousled. 

Nerves tug at your belly. You can taste the bitter doubt in the back of your throat.

Marc was a decent dealer. He let you start a tab when funds were low and gave you extra lighters and papers when needed. You knew to avoid crossing him, so what you had to do was extra tricky.

You sit on the floor across from him as he chucks a bag filled with joints onto the coffee table. Your body itches to feel the smoke burn your lungs.   

“Wanna hang for a bit? Smoke with me?” you offer, already reaching for the joint with a timid smile.

Marc quirks a brow. He digs his phone out of his tweed jacket and checks the time. “Uh, yeah, sure. I can hang for a bit.”

You try to light the joint, but the lighter won’t spark.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Marc asks, taking the lighter from your shaky hands. 

You silently nod and press the joint between your lips. Just as he lights the spliff, a knock sounds on your door.

You curse under your breath and hand the unlit joint to Marc. “Sorry. I’ll give whoever that is the boot.” He nods and sparks the joint, taking a long drag as you cross the distance to the door.

You yank open the door without thinking. “I don’t want anything you’re selli-”

“Hey there, Sweetheart,” a familiar, deep voice drawls.

You stand like a deer in headlights before the intimidating mob enforcer. 

He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. That’s the last time you open your door without checking the peephole.

“What’re you doing here, Joel?” you inquire, leaning in close so Marc doesn’t hear. "I have until tonight to give you the money."

The older man's leather jacket is pulled tight around his rugged shoulders as he leans in your doorway. His salt and pepper curls look damp as if you were his first stop after he got out of the shower.

“The boss has plans later and wants to ensure you're paid up.”

You wanted to scream. 

“This isn’t fair.” Your fists clench at your sides.

“That’s life, Sweetheart’.” Joel shrugs. “So, where’s the money?"

It takes every ounce of courage you have to stand your ground. 

“No. The boss said I had until 5pm, so I won’t give you anything until then. Now kindly, leave.”

You slam the door, but not quickly enough. A worn boot slides between the frame and the door, halting your escape.

“God dammit,” Joel fumes, shoving the door open, sending you flying back into your living room.

You catch yourself before you fall and watch as the enforcer makes his way into your sacred space. Now you know what it feels like to be on his wrong side. He kicks the door shut with his foot, ready to pounce, but freezes when he sees Marc.

“Miller.” Marc acknowledges from his laid-back position on the couch, joint pinched between his fingers.

Joel’s jaw twitches. “Spector.”

“So, what’s going on here?” Marc asks, gesturing with a curious wave. He then blows a lungful of smoke into the room and flicks bits of burning embers into an ashtray.

“None of your business,” Joel grits before focusing his attention back on you.

You do your best not to cower in front of the large man as he stalks closer. “You don’t want to make the boss angry.” He says, in an eerily calm voice, one that makes your hair stand on end. “Where’s the money?”

“I don’t have it.” You admit, barely louder than a whisper.

His jaw clenches hard. He shakes his head in disbelief, hands perched on his hips. His eyes grow scarily dark. "That’s not what I want to hear.”

“I don’t know what to say. I have a few dollars left in my account,” Your voice wavers.

Joel drags a heavy palm over his face and sighs. “What were you thinking? How were you going to pay him?” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder to your dealer.

“I, uh, I had a plan.” Your fingers wring at the seam of your shirt, and nausea swarms your belly.

Marc stands and finally joins the conversation. “Yeah, I’d like to know how you intended to pay me.”

You shift on your feet, eyes darting between the two more prominent and influential men. 

“I was going to offer to blow you.” The words tumble out so quickly that you wonder if they even heard you.

You wish the floor would open up and suck you in. It was bad enough that you had to resort to blowing your dealer, but now Joel was here to witness everything and most likely drag you to a certain death.

“For fucks sake,” the older man groans. 

Marc’s brow shoots into his hairline. He whistles as his eyes drag down your body. “You sure got yourself into a real jam here, huh?” He licks his bottom lip and steps closer. “I think something could be arranged, at least on my end. What about you?” He claps a hand on Joel's back, barely moving the powerhouse of a man. He was an enforcer, after all. This job wasn’t just for anyone. 

Joel shakes his head in dismay. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, lightning fast, quickly pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Sweetheart.” He informs, “Since I’ve taken a likin’ to you, I’d hate to see you get hurt. I’ll pay off your debt.”

The heavy weight you’d dragged around for the last week falls from your shoulders. You didn’t realize you’d stop breathing until the sweet air rushed into your lungs.  

 “But,” he continues, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, “you’re going to pay me back in kind.”

The heaviness returns, except now you’re afraid the extreme weight will crush you.

Joel notices your racing thoughts. “Shh. No need to think,” he murmurs, letting his hand fall to your hip and making himself comfortable. “Just be grateful you’ve got to deal with only me and Spector.” 

His eyes are solemn and tender, lost in his thoughts; his gaze travels across your face. You raise a cautious hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under the smooth leather. That magnetic pull you felt the first time you met him pulsed through your veins again, and you think he felt it, too. 

Then, his features twisted with remorse. "This wasn't what I had in mind, but you've left me no choice, Sweetheart."

In a flash, Joel drags you across the worn floorboards and carelessly tosses you over the back of your couch. The air knocks from your lungs. Your ribs flash bright with pain. He moves too fast for you to protest and tugs your leggings off, throwing them across the small room. 

“Best get to work, Spector, if you plan on getting your end of the deal,” Joel threatens the dealer as he crouches down, giving himself a front-row view of your exposed cunt. 

“Let’s get a look at the goods.” His large, warm hands roughly spread your cheeks apart. “Fuck me. That’s a sweet looking pussy.” He drags a thumb up the slice of you, making your spine bow as your hands press into the cushions. “Already wet, too. My kinda girl.”

Unconsciously, you strike an elbow back, but an imposing figure grabs your flailing limb, halting your retaliation.

You forgot about the other man in the room. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever wonder how you’d look with my cock in your mouth,” Marc admits while fisting his length out. 

He’s half-hard and already intimidating. You stare up at him incredulously while he grasps his veiny girth and traces your tightly closed mouth with the weeping, dusky pink tip. He smears his pre-cum on your skin, marking you before he begins his corruption.

Joel smacks your ass hard, making you yelp and shoving you onto the dealer’s awaiting cock. You instantly gag as Marc's hips pitch forward once he feels your warm, wet mouth. He curses under his breath, cages your head between his hands, and begins sawing his cock back and forth over your tongue. 

His brute thrusts make you gag and spring tears to your eyes. “Come on now. Why the waterworks? This was your plan, after all,” Marc teases, patting your damp cheek.  

Without warning, Joel’s tongue dives into your heat. A blazing heat erupts in your belly as he licks from end to end, wild and ferocious, not stopping until he tastes every inch of you. 

You instinctively moan from the blissful arousal that begins to pulse from his treatment. He laves at your taint and tickles your untouched rosebud for a beat forcing your mind to somersault before traveling south to circle his tongue around your clit. 

“Could eat this cunt all damn day,” he slurs against your throbbing core like he's drunk off you. “God damn, s’fuckin’ delicious.”

Joel sucks the tiny button into his mouth, earning a whole body shiver as you writhe against the couch. He rubs his nose against your soaked folds, making sure to take deep breaths while he eats you alive. 

Marc leans to his left while he works his cock ruthlessly down your throat, making you sputter as the bulbous head prods your tonsils.

You hear a click. The sound of paper igniting and then a long, deep breath.

Marc leers down at you while holding the smoke in his lungs. He curls a hand around the back of your head and presses until the auburn wiry strands littering his girthy base tickle your nose. Then, he exhales, blowing a long, winding breath like a dragon down into your face. 

Your vision blurs from the vapor. The trapped oxygen burns your lungs, and your body quivers from your helpless position while you gag sickly around his cock. Joel winds his arms under your belly, keeping you steady as you thrash anxiously. 

When Marc finally lets you free, you sputter and suck down as much air as you can. A glossy strand of drool connects your lips to his throbbing cock. You sniff and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as his fat length bounces in your view. “You look fuckin’ wasted, Kitten.” He quips with a languid laugh and takes another hit. 

Joel stands behind you, knees cracking as he towers over your vulnerable body. You warily look over your shoulder when he grinds his against the soft skin of your ass.

You’re caught in his wretched stare like a deer in headlights. “Best hope this pussy fucks as good as it tastes,” he threatens, tapping his bulbous, weeping crown on your sticky folds.

Joel gives no warning before he steadily pushes his obscene length into your heat. Your jaw drops with a raspy wail, allowing Marc to fill your mouth again and mute your frantic moans. You feel every vein and girthy inch of Joel’s cock splitting you open, as well as Marc's, as he glides his thickness over your tongue.

It seems to go on forever until they bottom out harmoniously. Joel presses his hips against your ass, and his plush lips pull into a sneer as your core stretches to accommodate him. “Oh, Sweetheart. This cunt is practically chokin’ me.” He provokes with a ragged groan, rubbing his thumb along the glistening, excessively stretched skin that embraces his cock.

A high-pitched whine slithers from your throat before it’s quickly cut off by Marc snapping his pelvis. Joel licks his creamy thumb with a dark chuckle before caging your hips in his steely grasp. He sets a steady rhythm, entirely withdrawing before shoving his cock back in, giving you no reprieve as Marc continuously thrusts his dripping length between your spit-coated lips. 

Your body burns. Your mind is warped. Joel's cock keeps brushing against that spongy spot behind your clit. It's all too much. You feel yourself losing strength, giving in. Either from lack of oxygen to your brain or your greedy cunt that's feeding off their wretched pleasure. 

"You gonna come, Sweetheart? Can feel her milkin' me real good. Shit-" Joel hisses as your velvet walls squeeze him tight.

Both your holes lock around their cocks as you come. Your eyes roll back, your spine bending like a bow as the harsh wave of desire ripples through you. 

Both men curse at the sight and feel of you. 

It shouldn’t feel this good being used and tossed around like a toy, but a thick, syrupy heat steadily gathers in your belly. With your head in the drug-induced clouds, every illicit touch sends you higher into a euphoric atmosphere.

“Wanna hit?” Marc offers, holding the joint between his fingers to the enforcer.

Joel finally tears his eyes away from where he’s spearing you open. He nods, stilling his hips, and extends a hand before pressing the joint between his lips. He takes a long drag before splaying his broad body over yours. 

You notice him in your peripheral as he watches you choke down Marc’s cock. “What a fuckin’ sight,” he drawls, joint bouncing between his lips. “Swallowin’ his cock like your life depends on it.” He roughly drives his hips forward, his leaky crown cruelly kissing your cervix, making you gag from the agonizing bliss. “Kinda ironic that it does.” 

You feel their cocks pulse in unison when you start writhing at Joel’s threat. You knew they wouldn’t hurt you, but the thought was too much to bear in your current state. They quickly make work of your flailing limbs; Joel grabs the back of your neck with a heavy paw, and Marc traps both your hands in his own, caging them against his stout stomach.

They set a brutal pace. You no longer feel in control of your body as they use you to get off. The room echoes with the sounds of gluttony, like feral animals staking their rightful claim on lowly prey. 

Marc comes with a growl, caging your head between his hands as you push against his abdomen, and fucks his salty release into your mouth. He collapses onto the couch with a ragged sigh, his engorged cock a shiny mess as he catches his breath. 

“Gotta get used to this, sweetheart,” Joel gloats in your ear, working an arm around your collarbone to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet every one of his brutal shoves. “Your pretty pussy is gonna be ruined by the time your debt is paid in full.” 

Marc cups your jaw in one of his hands and takes a puff of his joint. He slides a thumb between your sticky, come coated lips and blows the smoke into your mouth. You gladly inhale, letting the drug work its magic. Joel grabs your hips and picks up his speed, greedy for his pleasure. 

He comes with a gruff, dark groan, snapping his hips hard against your ass until he's buried to the hilt and pumping his sticky load into your fluttering core. 

You collapsed onto the cushions once Joel let go of your hips, your body too weak and drugged to care to move despite your vulnerable state.

“We’re square, Kitten.” Marc grazes your cheek with his knuckles, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “But anytime you want a hit and can’t pay, I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” Marc quips before silently nodding at Joel and leaves with a bounce in his step.

"Come're, Sweetheart." Large hands slide under your belly and help you stand on your feet. His eyes soften as he looks over your puffy eyes and swollen, slick coated lips. He cups your cheek and sighs through his nose. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

A rush of water hits your ears as Joel turns the shower faucet. You stand behind him like a child waiting for their next instruction before he turns back to you with a slight smile.

"Up and over. That's it," Joel says, ensuring you don't bump your elbows as he removes your shirt, folds it, and places it on your vanity. He helps you step into the shower before he sits on the toilet lid and watches you through the clear plastic curtain. 

Silence falls over the tiny bathroom as he lets you take solace under the stream.

You melt in the warmth. It eases your aches and dulls your overwrought senses. You stay there until your skin prunes and icy cold water pours from the tap.

He helps you step out of the tub, ensuring you're on solid ground before grabbing a towel hanging on the wall and wrapping you in the soft cotton. 

"You'll stay with me until your debt is paid," he said, resting his hands on your shoulders; the weight keeps you grounded as your world turns upside down.

"You won't have to worry about anythin'," he continues, carefully drying your body with a tenderness you didn't expect. "I'll pay your rent, so you still have this place when our transaction is complete." 

You know you should be upset. A screaming, raging mess but seeing such a dangerous man on his knees drying water droplets from your body makes you lightheaded with alarming power.

He stands when you don't outwardly react. His lips are pressed into a worried, hard line, his hands are perched on his hips, and a sharp brow wrinkles his forehead. "Okay?"

The vexation that laces his tone snaps you out of the dumbstruck fog. You knew there was only one right answer.

“Yes,” you rasp, defeated. 

He smirks, softly chuckling under his breath at your submission.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he says, cupping your jaw like he's drinking from a stream; God knows what brutality those hands have dealt out. "I trust you'll still be here when I get back." 

You nod quickly under his grave stare. 

He plants a searing kiss on your lips, making you gasp. It's dominating and possessive, like he's christening the start of your new life together by licking into your mouth and claiming you. 

He breaks the kiss with a grunt and nudges your nose with his own. "Thatta girl." 

He holds your gaze as he slowly walks backward out of the room. "Pack enough for the next week. I'll swing by later to get the rest," he instructs before turning and walking out your door.

You're left standing in your tiny bathroom, panting like a newborn fawn. Your legs wobble as you move to sit on the toilet lid and clutch the towel tighter to your chest; heart smashing against your ribs.

Joel was right. You had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

*if you'd like to read more about Joel and reader's new life together, please invade my inbox about them! it helps motivate me!*

->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-

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#to read #omg

[moreofem]

the duke’s illicit affair

4.3k / pairing: duke!joel miller x f!reader

main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi

summary: You want to tame the wild stallion that is 'the Duke', Joel Miller. Even if you have to lose your virtue in the process.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), regency era, overly romantic writing style, pedro’s “swashbuckler” -fran fit, mutual pining, slight religious themes such as virgnity and purity, implied but unspecified age gap, swearing, virginity loss, joel has a big cock and therefore -size kink, praise & degradation kink with accompanied dirty talk, slight innocence/corruption kink if you squint, pet names (1 (one) angel), oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, joel talks goads you through it, joel caves and asks to court reader, is described having pubic hair and wears a ballgown, but otherwise (I believe) no physical description, slightly beta’d, no use of y/n A/N: in order of events: I rewatched bridgerton for the umpteenth time before season three comes out, pedro arrives to the SAG awards in THAT Mr. Darcy fit - the two melded together and in my week of stress and doctor’s appointments, and this was born. enjoy xx - banners by @saradika-graphics

How long does he expect you to stand here? Your hands fixate on your dance card. One last unsigned line you had mindlessly reserved for the most handsome man of the evening. 

Duke Joel Miller of Westbrook. An older bachelor, one with stony eyes and beautiful greying curls. He sips on a brandy while you waver with impatience. He looks ravishingly attractive tonight. The summer is unseasonably hot, and he decides to ditch the usual black tailcoat for a breezy white button-up. 

You can see his skin, so much of his tan, slick skin. The sleeves are elongated. He’s never been one for fitted trends. High-waisted black trousers adorn his lower half, just barely tucking in the flowy dress shirt. Even in the unfitted look, you can see his broad shoulders and simple white buttons that attempt to hold him together. 

He’s slowly been plucking them open all night. The first one at ten o’clock, another one at eleven. By midnight, you could see the pretty silver and black chest hairs peeking out. Heavens, please, one more button. 

You grow frustrated at his lack of advances. 

It’s not just you, it’s everyone and anyone. Overly excited mamas who pester the Duke with their daughter’s endless excelled abilities like embroidery or playing the pianoforte. He’s polite, smiles, raises his glass, and wishes them well before turning back to his usual group of fellow bachelors. You’ve grown to feel bad for those who try, thinking they might be the one to break his bachelor streak. All while the poor daughter is in tow, heels dragging into the ground. 

They don’t fear him. They fear being rejected in such a social scene. Even the diamond of the season couldn’t pull the Duke. 

Why does he bother coming to these things if not to find a wife? No man stepped foot in a ballroom amongst the ton’s elite without only assuming he would be on the looks to court a young woman. Maybe he just likes the attention and the liquor. Or maybe he just likes to socialize with his boy’s club. 

You cannot deny that the aloof act is working. You maintain a pleasant countenance to the other ballgoers as you daydream. 

Another dance, a few more opportunities to be spun in the Duke’s general direction, and just hoping, dare you say praying, that the delicate sweetness of your perfume lingers in his space. That his eyes might meet yours, and the room falls into slow motion. Your dress made of the finest silks gently fanning around you in a graceful display. 

But he’s too late. 

A young gentleman approaches. You know him well. Lord Alexander Pembrooke, a distinguished and wealthy man who has noticeably been attempting to catch your eye all evening. And as the grandfather clock ticked on, the late hours of the evening approaching, Mr. Pembroke finally makes his move. “May I have the pleasure of reserving a dance on your card?” 

As a young woman during these times, the answer is always yes. Even if you wish you could say no. 

“Of course, Mr. Pembrooke. It would be,” Force it out. Grin and bear it, “an honor.” 

The Lord smiles, a charming one at that. Also very genuine. He would be a suitable husband. He gets along well in high society, where most men cower at the responsibilities it bears. But Lord Pembrooke doesn’t gamble his inheritance or drink his sorrows. He is a man of honor. No engaging in brawls or scandalous affairs that leave a woman alone with an illegitimate child. Not even a public drunk, which was hard to find for a young man his age. 

“Ah,” he hums softly, his mouth tilting with pride, “the last dance on your card. I hope you don’t mind spending it with me.”

You glance across the room at the Duke. He’s not even looking at you. A woman could only be so subtle for so long.

“Of course, I don’t mind, my Lord.” You offer your gloved hand, and he takes it with ease as the violinists lift their instruments to attention. 

During your dance, Joel consumes your very thoughts, bewitching your mind in endless fantasies that make your head swirl. You could dance blind, knowing the steps and knowing the dancefloor like the back of your head. So you let the fantasies take you away. 

You’ve been swooning for him in silence, all this time, all season. You’ve kept the ideas to yourself. All your friends pray they don’t get matched with someone of his age. They dream of romance with someone young and gorgeous, someone who is cocky but charming, thinking they will have a fulfilled life based on those things alone. 

They wanted a boy who had just recently become a man. You wanted a stallion. And at all costs, you would tame the silver steed that was Duke Joel Miller. 

By the end of the night, the orchestra has left, their gold and pearly chairs unattended. Music stands empty of their sheet music. Servants clean up plates and drink glasses.

You’re so exhausted, heels are a torture device. As you await your carriage, you attempt to loosen your posture but quickly stand straight once you feel a squeeze along your ribs. You are ripping this corset off once you get home. 

That’s when you see the Duke, awaiting his own carriage at the end of the pavement. One might wish to call him a rake, but the term can never truthfully come to service. He’s just such a gentleman. 

Out of your peripheral, he approaches. 

“Hello, Miss.” He sharply dips his head, honey-brown eyes catching fire from the lit torches that line the approach road. 

“Your Grace,” you manage through gritted teeth. His eyes can’t help but fall on the way your chest rises and falls with heat, lingering longer than they should along the curves of your breasts that your corset is only boosting with much annoyance. “I didn’t see you dancing with any young ladies. You know the point of these balls is to meet people, to talk.” 

The Duke is trying to politely cover his expression but he’s surely taken aback by your braveness. Or maybe it’s your abruptness. Either way, he downplays a smirk. 

“I’m sorry?” The Duke gently offers his hand to have you face him, but you resist.  

“You should be. I’ve been to a season’s worth of balls now, and have always held the last spot on my dance card open for you. You, Your Grace. Do you know how foolish that makes me? Hoping that you’d decide to leave your little hunting buddies and just ask me for one proper dance? Or anyone for that matter? So at least I could move on from you, seeing you court someone else. Then I could mindlessly chit-chat about the weather and dance with boring conversationalists or have feelings for anyone else, but no, you taunt me. You taunt me, sir. Standing there with your big bravado, having the eyes that every woman in that room wishes they’d fall upon. So stop torturing me-us. You can go have drinks and banter at your stately home or your château, or even the gentleman’s club. No need to dangle a carrot in front of a flock of hungry sheep.”

You know enough to keep your tone hushed, at a shouting whisper because that’s all you can do. Even cursing him out in the esplanade was brave. You know better, you were taught better than to talk to someone of such nobility this way. The punishments were endless. But your frustration has boiled over, and you favor blaming your ill words on the heat of the summer night.  

The Duke scoffs indignantly, an irritated yet arousing notch in his smirk. “I am a gentleman, and gentlemen do not… dangle.” His words are tight, like he’s gripping a lifeline. He forces himself to walk further into the estate, the warmth of the night forming sweat along his temple and jawline. Even his damn exposed chest. 

You follow him towards the dark gardens because you will be heard by him. 

“Forgive my outspokenness, your Grace, but I do not understand your motives. You attend, you watch, but you don’t- you don’t advance.” You sigh and bring a gloved hand to your temple. 

The Duke turns quickly on his heel and towers over you, shaded by the tall dark green hedges. 

“If I had only just- what?” He pushes, his voice also falling hushed. “You would have wanted me to ask you for a dance? Imagine the scandal that would fall upon you. You could have any gentleman you desire, someone your age.  A beautiful diamond such as yourself doesn’t need some Duke double her age ripping at your delicate seams. You can marry anyone your own age, you do not want me. I don’t ask you to dance, I don’t bring flowers, I don’t court, because I will not ruin your prospects.” He’s stern and pointed, succinct as he explains why his affections have never reached the surface.

Both of your eyes are lined with a mix of anger and something else, something forbidden. 

The Duke’s jaw juts out, parted cherry lips smacking as he licks them, eyes casting downwards as he takes in your appearance for the first time this close. 

“You do not get to decide that for me, sir. You simply cannot intervene divine lust.” 

He scoffs. “I will not ruin you.”

“Ruin me, for heaven's sake! Ruin me!”

Your heated breaths mingle in the hot summer air as roses and tulips listen in on your private conversation. A pause falls between you. All tight jaws and heated eyes of passion. He wants you. 

“Ruin you, I shall.” Duke Miller mutters before closing the dreaded distance between you both and kissing you with the fire of a thousand suns. His hands tighten at your waist, and you have never felt such desperate affection.

Your lips find a home with him, and he guides the pace. It’s fast, needy. He wants you. He wants, he wants, he wants. And now, he finally has a taste. 

There’s so much you need to say to the Duke. We cannot. What about my purity, my honor? What of God? 

No one must know. 

“Take me,” is all that tumbles from your mouth as the Duke’s greying scruff scratches your delicate skin, his pearly teeth nipping at the supple skin along your neck. “Take me, your Grace. I’ve wanted you for so long, please,” you beg. The hold he has on your body tightens, a protective instinct to keep you shielded in the dark depths of the garden. 

The Duke pulls away, both of you panting with desperation. His forehead rests against your own, and you close your eyes. You cannot bear to see his beauty so close, you fear you might get lost in him forever. 

“You are what I desire,” he whispers, and your eyes flutter open in surprise. You part your lips to speak, but he insists on continuing. “I’ve desired every last dance, I promise you. I’ve been forced to watch you give your sweet smiles to others who are undeserving, I cannot stand by any longer. Be with me tonight, even if it is only tonight,” the Duke swallows a lump in his throat as your hands delicately fall to his exposed chest, undoing button after button with sensitive haste. 

“I want you, your Grace,” You remind him as you press a delicate kiss to his lips, your eyes falling to his beautiful tanned skin. 

“Joel- Call me Joel, Miss,” you feverishly nod and run your fingers down his jawline, cupping the strong bone and skimming your thumb upwards. He grows lost in your eyes, almost defeated by how much he needs to be with you. “Please, I must make you mine, but not here,” Joel takes your hand and guides you out of the gardens, too open. 

He whisks you away past the gardens and the grounds, below the large estate to a descending staircase. You kiss and tangle all the way to the stone cellar where he drops to his knee. He hikes up your precious silks, and you feel his warm tongue for the first time on the inside of your thigh. 

The soft skin of your back shudders against the cold stone, but it is the vice your simmering skin begs for. The Duke has your head in a twirl, having never been with another. There were so many thoughts flooding your mind. 

What would it be like? What would he do?

The pleasure he contrived was monumental. 

A shrill gasp leaves your parted lips as the Duke easily tugs aside your silk undergarments, releasing your core to the free air of midnight. He moans simply at the sight before him as you assist him in hiking up your ballgown. 

“Please,” you whisper with a sense of urgency. “I need you more than you know.” 

The Duke simply scoffs and smirks up at you past the tulle. 

“Trust me, my lady, I know.” A shiver is sent up your spine. He alludes to your dripping arousal sent down to you from the Gods. You believe it is his fountain of youth as he begins to lap like a dehydrated man. 

You bring your gloved hand to your mouth, fearing to make a peep that the servants could hear just above your head. 

The sensation is glorious, his tongue is succinct and persuasive as it moves about your wet cunt. The Duke fists the tuft of hair dancing along your mound, all the more arousing. He kisses your cunt with swollen lips and suckles at your eager bud. He moves languidly, exploring your folds and your taste for the first time. 

“Fuck,” he curses against your core, “You’re intoxicating,” he breathes, hiking your leg up and over his shoulder, only allowing him more access to what he craves. 

You can feel the coil tighten in your stomach, a pleasure you’ve only come to know from touching yourself in the late hours of the evening in the privacy of your bedroom. This was far better. 

At last, you cannot help but moan as your thighs twitch against his head, one of the Duke’s thick fingers slowly nudging into your entrance and tightening around each knuckle as he presses onward. 

“That’s a good girl, take it,” he praises as heat slips down your spine. You remove a glove, determined to rake your fingers through his glorious curls. He slurps your entirety, causing you to quiver before him.

“Joel, please, I need you,” you whimper as your form begins to feel like jelly. Your stomach tightens as he suckles and grazes his teeth against your pearl, a sweet moan of his name leaving your lips that seems to only drive him mad. 

Joel’s tongue traces your seam, teasing flicks by the tip of his tongue sending you into overwhelming pleasure that makes your cunt squeeze around his singular finger. He tastes your sweet come and you gasp as your muscles clench. He places a final kiss on your overstimulated gem and stands up in a rush. 

You’re still seeing stars by the time he kisses you, your tastebuds mingling with your own finish. Heat laps at your neck as you bravely move your hands to his waist, untying his trousers and shucking his pants down to his thighs, along with his undergarments. 

With all the excess fabric, you don’t even see him. But Gods, do you feel him. 

Joel presses you hard against the cool stone, your shoulder blades aching as he glides the tip of his cock up and down your puffy folds. You soak him in your juices while he kisses along your sweet neck. Your senses are in overdrive, the scratch of his beard and whiskers unknowingly forces your hips to buck against his. 

“Please, my Lord, fulfill me,” you whisper against the shell of his ear. Joel grabs your leg by the underside of your thigh and hooks it around his waist, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as you brace yourself. 

“Have wanted you for so long,” he mutters, deep and almost animalistic as he sizes you up. “This is your last chance, to send me away.” He shakes his head, forehead against yours as your eyes bore into his own amber ones. “I shall not disparage your virtue- I am a gentleman.” 

You cannot help but to scoff. 

“Forgive me when I say I do not care about purity or virginity. I want you, Joel. I want all of you, to fill me to the brim. I ache for your cock, to be made yours. Screw the Gods for making me wait so long for you. Fuck me.” You insist, lust glazing over Joel’s eyes as your desires spill into the night air. 

He shakes his head with an astonished smirk. 

“You will stay quiet, do you hear me?” He grits. You hastily nod as his hand comes up and clamps against your mouth. You think you don’t need him to take this extra measure, you can control yourself, your desperations. But nothing could have prepared you for him. 

Your eyes widen as his tip notches at your entrance. He thrusts onward, and it breaks the seal. You cry out against his hand and are thrown back harder against the frigid wall. 

“Fuck-” You sob out against his hand, eyes clenching closed as your jaw drops against his palm. 

“Fuck,” he groans out long and hushed, trying to breathe around the strangle of your tight cunt. “Yeah, that’s a good girl, taking all of me, fuck- you’re so damn tight,” Joel grinds his hips flush against your own and the pain is excruciatingly sweet. There’s a distinct pain as you bleed for him, your walls doing all that is possible to accommodate his stretch. 

He’s not what you imagined- he’s even bigger. 

Tears well in your eyes, tears of pain as he aches deep inside your cunt. Your walls pulse around him and he wills himself not to move. His hot pants fan across your neck and shoulder, attempting to distract himself as he lays lazy kisses upon your skin. 

“M-Move,” you beg against his hand, your body still shuddering at the after-effects. 

He pants and ultimately shakes his head. “No, just- just fucking wait, angel.”

You need the release, to feel him move. You beg him for his urgency as anyone could circle around to the back of the courtyard and remove the barrels of ale and wine to the cellar stairs where you two lurk. He needs to-

“Move,” you beg again, to which he smirks. 

“Such a brat for this cock,” he pauses and narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you?” 

You whimper and nod feverishly, weaving your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and holding on for dear life. 

He slowly removes his palm from your mouth, only once he’s sure you can withstand him, and you let out a small whimper of words. 

“I am, sir,” you weep as he snickers. 

“How does it feel, my lady? To be fucked for the first time, by a man, no less?” 

His feet falter as he presses you even harder against the wall and you shudder at the movement, at the slight drag of his cock. 

“Fuck- it feels… it feels so good, Joel,” you hum as you quickly nod and reunite your heated kiss. 

His thrusts begin steady, rocking you up against the wall as your leg lightly loosens around his waist, allowing his hips to move as they please. 

It is a clash of teeth and tongues as he begins making headway, fucking his pretty little mess of a woman. Your hands fall to the wall, gliding over the smooth stone before eventually returning to the Duke’s broad frame. Your body begins to jut with each thrust as he picks up his pace, skin slapping as you fist the fabric of his white flowy shirt. 

You both appear in awe, jaws dropped in pleasure that begins to flood over both of your bodies while your foreheads remain pressed against one another, needing to be close. 

He’s large, splitting you open and making your cunt take shape for his ungodly cock. His tip presses deep, hitting a spot undiscovered that nearly left a mangled cry to flee into the air. His hand is already at the ready, smirking down at you as he conceals your moans. 

“If you want to come, best be quiet,” Joel warns with a warped smirk gracing his features. 

You whimper against his hand and nod, eyes slipping closed as he rails you faster against the wall of the cellar. Your thighs clap, and with each thrust, you begin to moan louder and louder against his palm.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, feeling that familiar tightness in your stomach you only contrive when you are close to your breaking point. Joel must feel it too because he’s buried his face into your neck and lays wary kisses to the column of your throat. 

His hips snap feverishly, both of you so desperately close. 

“Yes, yes, please, right there, fuck!” You spill into his palm. He groans into your skin and his pace falters. 

Your eyes widen as he removes his palm and slips it between your thighs, close to where you both meet. He’s quick to find your bulb and circle it with intent. You part your lips, afraid to moan, but he crashes his lips to yours before you have the chance. His tongue slips into your mouth, languidly gliding against your own as he groans into your mouth. 

Finally, he cannot take any more gentle care. He takes you, full on. He grapples both of your thighs to wrap around his waist, allowing him to jackhammer you against the wall as you arch your back against the stone. His face falls to your beautiful breasts where he licks and kisses the perfumed skin. Your corset only forces them to be pressed upward and with each thrust, they jump and nearly spill on display. 

You cannot breathe, you only know Joel, and you can only praise his name as he pushes you to oblivion. 

With his thick fingers toying with your clit and his tip reaching the narrowness of your cervix, you finally combust with soft moans of euphoria. You moan in each other’s mouths, feeling his hips flush with yours before he presses you still, his warm come painting your sweet cunt. 

It’s warm and sticky, your bodies tangled in one another. Your fingernails gently glide along his scalp as he shudders against you, still in the minglings of working through his orgasm. 

“That’s it,” you coo as he smiles tiredly against your cheek. “Right there, my Lord,” you smirk against the shell of his ear as he shakes his head against your own, his nose coming up to nuzzle against your own. 

“Gods,” you both breathe out in unison which causes laughter to erupt between the both of you. 

It was everything you had ever wanted. You had ridden the stallion, perhaps there was no such thing as taming him. However, you were so pleased to be wrong. 

“I’m afraid… I must see you again.” He admits as his dark lashes flutter, his hand coming to cradle your cheek as you playfully ponder his courtship. 

“I’m afraid I enjoy this feeling too much to say no.” 

Joel smiles in agreement, slowly releasing himself from you. Your thighs grow sticky as he leaks from within. Your muscles are still twitching with overstimulation as you adjust your ballgown. By the time you look up, the Duke is watching with slight amusement. 

“Tomorrow. The artist’s latest gallery opening. I’ll provide us with a private tour.”

You hum playfully, thinking he is purely jesting with his aims to take you to a proper outing. 

“Not many places to fool around and shag in an open art exhibit.” You point out as he takes your hand and helps you up the stone stairs, your heels clicking with each step you take. 

Joel sighs and sets his hand low on your waist as he peers from the left and to the right, confirming that the coast was clear to move to the carriage line. 

“You will need to be chaperoned if I am to court you, my lady. When I said I must see you again, I meant in the light of day; where all the gentlemen who attempted to sweep you off your feet tonight can see you with the Duke, your arm on mine.” 

A bashful smile grows on your lips, shaking your head at his mischievousness. “Won’t it be a bit of a scandal for us to promenade tomorrow, especially since we have yet to be formally introduced and you were not on my dance card last night? The gossip sheets will be hot off the presses, I am sure.” 

Joel takes a deep breath, appearing almost nervous as he shrugs. “I’ve wanted you for quite some time. I’m afraid I’m simply not strong with the waltz.” He whistles for your carriage, and the horses gallop closer. 

All you can think about is him inside you just moments ago, how he still feels like he’s inside you now. You attempt to remain unphased, but he has this look in his eyes that makes your stomach flutter. 

“I thought you said you didn’t court, your Grace.”

“I also don’t bring flowers. I am allergic.” 

Joel opens the carriage door as you eye him up and down slowly. 

“Tomorrow?” He presses again. Your hands clutch the sides of your dress, lifting the train as the footman lowers the pedal to step up and into the carriage. Joel takes your hand and holds it for a few seconds too long. Your eyes hold contact, hearing both of your hearts beating. 

“Tomorrow. And if not flowers, chocolate, then.” 

A bemused grin lines his lips, a gleam in his eyes. “Good day, my Lady.” He drops his chin, and you do the same. 

“Goodnight, Duke Miller.” 

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#to read #fic rec

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