Cinnagirl ⋆˙

Joel was out at work , and there were just some days you felt he was just gone for too long,  today was one of them. So you got to baking, you searched through the cabinets to spot if you’re missing anything that limits you from baking anything . You were missing cocoa , so you couldn’t make brownies, and you didn’t have any milk, so you thought of making sugar cookies, one of your favourite sugary sweets. 

 You progressively made your cookies, firstly making the batter, skillfully adding all the ingredients, expertly doing it all not even needing the recipe from how many times you made these cookies. You then placed the dough in the fridge to cool it, and after about an hour you finally put the individually balled up batter on the cooking tray and then in the oven. 

 As the cookies were baking, you started to work on the frosting, you added all the ingredients and you added a drop of red food colouring, the already white coloured frosting mixing with the small drop of red making the softest pink colour, which you always think adds a nice touch to the delicious sweet. And as you mix in the food colouring you hear the front door open, and you excitedly turn around from the counter, already knowing who it is.  

“Hey, Angel,” he greets and heads to the kitchen, and walks towards you.  

“Hi..” you smile and rush to hug him and see him. 

His hands slid down to your waist holding you tightly, and then he rests his head on top of your own head, inhaling your sweet scent. 

 “You been baking, baby?” he breaks his hold , and walks over to the counters and hovers above the counter where you were making the frosting at. 

 “Yeah..got bored..” you say and chuckle and observe him as he grabs a bit of frosting with his finger and licks it , the action sending sparks up your spine causing you to feel a slight wet feeling between your thighs , making you blush a bit as he nods approvingly about the frosting. 

“Best damn baker in the whole town, aren’t you, angel,?”  he chuckles and turns towards you , his eyebrow arching , puzzled as to why you froze in place. 

You stand still right there at the kitchen door, the air between you two feeling thick .You can’t help but let your mind start to picture suggestive thoughts thinking of what you want Joel to do to you. 

“What’s wrong, baby..?” he discloses lowly and plants his hands around your waist again as he leans his lower torso or back on the counter  

“Mmmm..” you mumble and he slowly starts to comprehend what you truly meant and want, 

“Daddy licked the frosting you made and that got you wet, baby?” He states and scoffs. 

“Sweet girl..” he asserts lowly and chuckles, he holds your chin and tugs your face closer and kisses you. You reciprocate and shift closer to him and let him kiss you earnestly. He starts peppering your jawline with kisses till your neck leaving small bruises along his path , marking his territory as he does every night. 

“Guess since daddy trying your frosting got you all wet, means i should eat more, huh?” He mumbles close to your ear, 

“Wha-?” you say unsure of what was going to happen, and unexpectedly Joel turns both of you around, your back now facing the counter, and he lifts you up and positions you on top of the counter and sets his lower torso between your legs , next to the bowl of frosting. 

He strips you out of your top ,no room for discussion, and he takes a moment to stare at your hardened nipples. His chest rising and falling faster with every time his gaze falls on your chest, he pauses for a moment, the idea in his mind still being processing, and in a beat, grabs a dollop of frosting with his finger from the bowl placed next to you. 

 You watch him with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, he gently smears the frosting on your tits applying it neatly, you let out a small gasp and can’t stop gaping at him as the cooling sensation hits you causing you to quiver, making the wetness between your thighs rapidly growing. 

“Now, ain’t this the sweetest dessert for daddy?” He says with a small chuckle, licking clean the frosting from his finger, debating whether to just bury his face in your frosting-covered nipples or to roughly squeeze them until you come for him or to take his time to enjoy you, and drag on your release wanting to tease you, ultimately choosing that option. He lowers himself, and he swirls his tongue on your left nipples making you loudly gasp and moan. He licks off the frosting from your breast in a slow manner, taking his time to taste the frosting and sucking your nipple.  

“Daddyy” you whimper, and press your legs together ,the wet spot on your underwear  slowly increasing. Joel snickers from all your small responses and moves on to your right nipple, both nipples already hardened from the pleasure. 

As you continuously moan and whimper  ,Joel finishes off licking all the frosting and can’t help but look up at you and grin at you.  
  

“Gonna let daddy have some more, baby?” He asks you lowly, not being able to deny him in the slightest, knowing you need this as badly as he does and nod affirmatively. 

“My sweet girl, always wanting to please me, huh?” He asserts and chuckles. He gently lifts your hips up, to help you out of your shorts you’ve been wearing letting it drop on to the floor, he then yanks off your wet underwear letting it all drop on the floor. Joel jerks open your legs , your bare pussy exposed to him, your juices glistening dripping all down. Joel hungrily stares at your exposed cunt,and letting the corners of his mouth jolt into a smile . And in no time he repeats his previous action with the frosting, this time on your pussy.  

Joel overspreads your pussy with the use of his fingers again, this time not with just a dab but with more than a spoonful of frosting. Covering your cunt fully, making it fully hidden. The cooling sensation hitting you even harder this time, making your pussy throb and overflow with juices, mixing in with the frosting.  

“Fucckk, look at her, sweet girl..” He watches in awe and licks clean his fingers from the frosting,  
“So embarrassing...” you mutter feeling vulnerable 

“S’not embarrassing, angel..” he grumbles, he lets his fingers settle on your chin, holding your face in place, he leans his face closer to yours , 
“Ain’t ever seen a prettier thing than you, or her.” he murmurs for only you to hear. 

He then lowers himself and crouches in front of you, just in front of your concealed pussy between your trembling open thighs, he yanks you forward to the edge of the counter and plants his hands on each of your leg to keep them open , he then starts slowly licking your cunt, simultaneously devouring the frosting. 

“S’Delicious, angel,” he mumbles, licking your folds the mixture of the sweet frosting mixing with your cunts juices,. He takes his time sucking and teasing your clit and licking clean your sweet pussy, you let out various moans and almost shouting, “Fucck”, “Daddyyy” letting them slip out your mouth, closing your eyes from all the pleasure. 

You continue letting out your sweet moans and whimpers as Joel takes his sweet time eating you out ,your heartbeat rapidly increasing. He thrusts his tongue into you, curling and shoving in and out your firm hole. 
“I cant-: You whimper and tremble, 
“I can’t hold it” You groan 

“Let go for me, baby.” he commands as he ultimately pulls away from you and sucks on your clit instead, making you freeze in place , coming hard, forcing you to loudly moan  and gasp, your pussy pulsing on his tongue , and savouring every drop of your slick, making him groan against your cunt. He looks up at you and the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. 
“Taste so good, baby..” He discloses and snickers as he gazes into you .As your chest rises and fall even faster now, continuing to maintain eye contact with him. 

And just as soon as he straightens himself and settle his lower torso between your legs again to take care of you after your release , the timer for the cookies rings. Joel snorts and smiles, 

You watch him as he intently watches the road and the greenery the mountains offer, Hozier playing in the back , your eyes wander to his face, he is so excited, you could see it clearly all over his face, he is so excited to take his girl on her first ever camping/ hunting trip. 

“Y’excited, baby?” Already smiling as he turns to look at you,  catching you as you quietly observed him. 

“Yeah.. S’gonna be fun,” you chuckle as you fantasise how the trip will be, making s’mores and joining him on his hunt, sleeping in a cramped tent ,already silently laughing as you imagine Joel complaining about the cramped space, cuddling and lovin’. 

He grabs the wheel with his other hand, and plants his left hand on your thigh, his attention turning back to the view. 

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After a bit of hiking, and a helluva lots of complaining, you finally reach to an open area among the forest. You both set your bags, a cooler for his hunting and his shotgun just against a big rock, Joel already starting to set up your newly bought shared tent. 

You decide to wander around the area, discovering a small stream of water, spotting a few bunnies and mainly looking at the greenery, and how pretty it all looks.  

“S’really pretty..” you say as you approach back to where you were both still setting up camp. 

“S’quiet too, huh?” he chuckles “Always nice to be in nature..”, 

 He finalizes the tent and realises how small the tent really is.  ‘Goddamn’ he mutters and you just start laughing,  “That’s not going to fit us,” you continue to laugh,

“Quit laughin’ ” he mutters, contemplating what to do. the tent was even smaller than you previously thought, probably only being able to fit you. 

You sit down on a wooden stump, vividly daydreaming and spacing out whilst watching Joel lay down a few blankets inside the tent attempting to make the tiny tent at least a bit comfortable for the both of you. As he sets the blankets and pillows, he stands up straight and walks over to the bags against the rock , and grabs his shotgun and turns to you, 

“M’gunna go huntin’ in a bit, might catch some rabbits.. nothin’ much.” , forcing you to snap back into reality and look towards him, 

“Can i come with,?” You ask him, still watching him get ready for his hunt. 

“Yeah, sure honey,” he says,  as the corners of your mouth twitched into a small smile.  

And so he did, poaching 4 rabbits, it wasn’t much but he was still pretty proud. “Better than nothing,” he admits as the two both start walking back to camp. 

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The warmness from the fire and the smell of burnt marshmallow hitting you, as your head lays against his shoulder. 

“Damn.. Think i burnt it,” he mutters as he squishes the burnt almost black coloured marshmallow between the chocolate and graham crackers, he hands you the s’more and you let out a small chuckle and take a small bite of your first ever s’more. Joel quietly watches you curious as you take your bite but then lets out a a small sigh of relief as you let out a huge smile. 

“It’s really good,” you snicker, taking a few more bites. Joel starts roasting some more marshmallows and quietly smiles as well. 

“Think so?” he mumbles. You nod in confirmation and continue eating your s’more. 

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After a lot and i mean lots of s’mores, you two finally curl up under the covers, the world around you quieting down as you two finally rest. 

“S’too damn crowded in here..” he mumbles as he faces you, holding you close against him. Watching you with half lidded eyes, his eyes wandering around your face.  

“You’re taking all the space,” you quietly tease him, letting out a small snicker too.  

“Always laughin’ ” he mumbles, trying to hide his laughter as you tease him. He shifts his body, moving closer to you, burying his face onto the crook of your neck, softly kissing your sensitive skin. 

His hand slithers down to the waistband of your shorts, playing with the fabric as he continues kissing you all over your neck. 

“Can’t do it here.. don’t fit in here..” you murmur.  

“Right..” he mumbles  

 “Outside..” he murmurs again, hiding a small smile on his face as he helps you up and exit the tent, grabbing a blanket as well. 

He lays the baby pink soft blanket on the ground, purely for your comfort, and then helps you again on the soft blanket. 

He settles himself just in front of where he sat you, and leans in and continues with his soft kisses on you, continuing to play with the waistband of your shorts. He pulls away just enough to look at you and then slowly leans in until your lips touch. Slowly and passionately kissing you. 

 Your arms slowly wrap around Joels neck, pulling him even closer to you. He slowly devours you whole, until it becomes impossibly too much and pulls away from you. His chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks at you hungrily.  

He helps you lay down, facing the ground as his hands settle on to the waistband of your shorts, “S’okay, sweetheart?” he murmurs, 

You nod in confirmation then he pulls down your shorts with no second thought, helping you out of them as well. He stares at the bare skin in front of him, softly running his hand through the skin, as if you’re a porcelain doll.  

His little actions making you silently laugh, it isn’t the first time he saw you naked, or had sex with you, this is who Joel is, always gentle with you, as if you’re the only precious thing in his world.  

He slides his fingers through your pussy, slowly touching your sensitive skin, until his fingers land on your clit. 

“She’s already wet for me, huh..?” 

Rubbing the sensitive bud between his fingers, forcing you to let out small whimpers from the pleasure.  

“Yeah, sweetheart.. Let all those pretty sounds out” 

His fingers slowly move just between your folds, spreading your folds just so his fingers can slip in your hole. The little action forcing you to gasp and let out a strangled moan. 

His fingers moving at ecstatic a pace his fingers slipping in and out of you.  

“Fuck- Joel,” you moan, his fingers overly pleasuring you .Your hands gripping on to the soft blanket. 

Your lower body twitches as Joel starts hitting that sensitive spot inside you, your sweet moans filling in the quietness of the forest. 

“Mhm, yeah honey, hit the spot, huh?” He exhales, his fingers still pumping in and out of you at that sick rough pace. 

Your body starting to tremble as you feel yourself reaching your climax. 

“Can’t-“ you groan, your face falling on to the blanket, drooling on to the fabric. 

“She’s close, honey? My girls close, huh?” he growls, already feeling himself hardened from your sweet sobs and moans, always aroused from his girls' pleasure. You nod and hum against the blanket, just until you finally let go, letting out your mumbled sobs and moans against the blanket. 

“There’s my girl..” he coos, not pulling away just yet but instead reaching to your sensitive bud instead, softly rubbing your clit, your juices acting as lubricant. 

“Gonna let daddy have his fun, honey..?” He murmurs quiet enough just for you to hear. You raise your head, slightly attempting to turn your head to look at him. 

“Can’t help it.. M’already hard..” he mumbles as he stares back at you. 

You nod in confirmation, Joel already lowering his pants and undergarments . Settling himself behind you, comfortably.  Holding his thick cock in his hand, stroking himself as he spreads your glistening pussy open, he aligns his cock just between your folds, with his other hand he guides your hands together, holding your arms together, settled on your back, restraining you from moving much.  

Unexpectedly he slams himself inside you, again, gasping and whispering, as his hard dick thrusts inside you. Joel grunts from your tight gummy walls, allowing himself to just stay in place, to feel you. 

 He pounds himself in and out of you in a average pace at first, one hand still restraining you, the other settled on to the blanket. 

“Just gunna go a little faster, bunny..” you groans, already moving himself faster. Your head falling back on to the blanket as he thrusts himself faster within you. 

“S’too much,” you sob out, your arms starting to hurt from the restrain, silently twitching. 

“You can do it, baby.. Just a little bit more for me..” he groans. 

You hum, mumbling out a small ‘fine’ as he pounds deep into you. The sounds of skin slapping, groans and grunt and moans filling the silence of the night. 

“Arms hurt,” you softly sob,  

Joel murmurs a quiet ‘Fine’ , which in reality wasn’t pissed off about and lets you go, you quickly set your hands back onto the blanket, finally relieved from the small pain. 

You feel yourself finally reaching your peak once again,  

“M’close, daddy..” you mumble as you feel yourself tremble, 

“Yeah- Me too, honey-“ He groans, his body moving even quicker as he feels his body twitch. 

And then you let go again, your chest already heaving, until Joel follows, shooting deep inside you.  The sensation making you feel a little drowsy as Joel stays buried deep inside you. He pulls out of you, drops of his load dripping on to the blanket. 

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You snuggle comfortably in the passengers seat with your pink blanket, still feeling tired from the night before, Joels hand resting on your thigh, Bob Dylan playing in the background from Joels playlist. Both of you reminiscing the day before. 

Certainly was a fun camping trip ♡ 

this was way shorter than i anticipated🥲

Taglist! : Tell me if you want to be removed or if i got your user wrong💗

@nutbutterjellie @biagaloree @justaprettyprincess @fuzzyfawnnn @katalinablossom @aria1108 @mrs-miller03 @dugiioh @tomtohee @wand-erer5 @lambe-rt @rosexdayxdreamer @honeygl0ws @anqieluv @isabellaboo2025 @twilightvelour @girlymoviegal

“Gonna help daddy relax, baby?” He asks lowly, and you already know what that means, his eyes, not ashamed to wonder to your nipples that were already hardened from the sensation of the mesh material.

“Can we cuddle first..?” you softly ask him with a slight pleading look.

The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile and lets out a small snicker, “Yeah, baby..Cmon..” He states and in a beat gets in bed, as soon as he settles under the sheets you join him and quickly move closer to him and he settles you in his arms , your back facing his front body as he spoons you.

He plants his face on top of your head and inhales your scent, making him relax slowly slowly. A few moments later you slightly pull away and turn your front body to face him and then move to set yourself on top of Joels body, your face inches away from his, he lets out a small grunt and snickers by you changing your position in a commanding way

“Kisses..?” you ask softly, your pleading demeanour once again making him fold and he ultimately nods in approval

“You’re commanding tonight, aren’t you, angel?” he chuckles and you giggle as well at his little comment and sits up settling you on his lap , firstly kissing you softly, gently, he pulls away and starts softly kissing you along your jawline and then along your neck, the small kisses making you giggle and blush you always love when he is gentle.

He lays you two back down, pulling you to lay on top of his body again. You stare up at him, suddenly feeling a bit drowsy and you can’t help but let out a small yawn, he chuckles and places his thumb in the middle of you yawning, in your mouth, his action making you blush as you start to suck on his thumb, almost like an alternative pacifier.

“Sleep, bunny..” he smiles and looks at your drowsy expression as you look up at him wearying, sucking on his thumb, you pull away,

“M’not tired, daddy..” you mumble wearily, you softly argue, “I swear-“ you mutter and abruptly yawn and he chuckles, “Come on, baby, you’re tired go to sleep.”he mumbles and gently pats the back of your head,

“I want to help you relax..” you silently beg, “You said you wanted me to help you relax..” you slightly whine and pout.

“I did.. But you’re tired, angel.. Don’t want my sweet girl all tired..” he tells you quietly.

“Please, daddy..Wanna make you feel good..” you pout, giving him your puppy dog eyes. Joel looks at you and sighs in defeat,

“Alright, angel..” he says and sits up once again and you sit up as well, he pushed aside the bed sheets from on top of you two giving you space to move, then you slip off your little pink undergarment already soaked with your juices and toss it aside, your bare pussy, raw and pulsing, as you settle yourself on your knees his legs between your own, giving both of you some space between you.

Then you help him pull down his sweatpants at the same time with his underwear letting it stop just above his knees, you look at his hardened dick evident and throbbing. And even though you’ve seen his dick multiple times, his thickness always makes you blush. He snickers as he watches you look down at his cock,

“Gunna ride me, bunny? Gunna make me feel good..?” he says lowly and smiles as he teases you. You slightly blush and and nod,

“Help me first..” you mutter, always asking him to help you start whenever you rode him. He smiles and nudges his slick tip at your entrance, teasing you open

“So needy..” , you let out small gasps as he teases your opening with his tip that's already coated with his precum, making his teasing even more slippery. His fat cock stretching you wide , slowly entering you as you lower your body to enter him, the sensation making you whimper and moan, your sweet noises and the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing around his fat lengthy dick, making him groan and grunt,

“Fuck.. Cmon sweet girl, said you were gonna ride me..” he grunts, and you start moving in an inconsistent pace, dumbing from the pleasure. He grunts in your inconsistency, he then grabs onto your ass and guides you up and down on his dick in a slightly fast pace, manhandling you as if you were his own personal sex toy.

You moan and gasp, your pussy tightening and pulsing around his rock hard cock, Joel moves you in a brutally fast pace on his dick, his balls slapping against your ass, making a disgustingly lewd sound just by your skin slapping against each other, you can’t help but plant your hands on his shoulders, holding so tightly thats the skin reddens.

“Can’t hold it, daddy!” you whimper and shout in desperation,

“Fuck.. Gonna come too, baby” he grunts loudly, And in a beat you both let go, You let out long whimpers, whines and gasps not being able to control your noises, chills running down your spine as Joel grunts and groans , he comes deep inside you, his dick still buried deep inside you with all his come.

He lifts you off his dick and his come drips and lands everywhere, your thighs, his own thighs and the bedsheets. Joel lets his fingers wander on your come smeared folds and grabs a dollop with his fingers, he smiles and without warning shoves them in your mouth, making you suck and swallow his come from his fingers.

He snickers as he watches you, you swallow his come, the mixture of your own juices with his own combined, tasting salty and savoury, tasting too good that it should .He pulls away his fingers from your mouth and snickers,

The phone hits the mattress next to your head with a thump, and suddenly, a staticky, Scottish-accented voice fills the room through speakerphone. Simon’s grip forces your head back at an awkward angle, your body arched to meet his thrusts, and before you can process it, his spare hand darts forward to pinch your nose shut. Your eyes blow wide, and in the same choking breath, you've realized that this was deliberate all along. He wants you like this.

Sputtering feebly, the instinctive response is to breathe through your mouth—but you aren't sure you want to. The stupidly unfair part is that inhaling—and by proxy, taking a drag—is effortless, while the hand clamped over your mouth makes breathing out a struggle.

“I've got eyes on it, don't worry—” A groan catches in the back of Simon's throat—a rare falter in his deep voice, narrowed eyes fixed on the glowing screen—as your spasming walls clench around his cock. Your eyes are red and glossy, searching for him, but his attention lies elsewhere. “—You focus on your part.”

Your vision tunnels as he fucks you back on his cock, a strange feeling rolling in your belly. You're puffing somewhat haphazardly on the cancer-stick, like an awkward teen fighting against the cigarette without taking a pull—which, in a sense, you're doing just that. The thought of sitting still and acting rationally escapes you in that moment.

The gray sheets rustle as he leans over you, pressing you into the mattress, and you're half-sure Soap can hear the frantic shuffle of fabric combined with your flesh smacking together. You've long since been on the brink, and stars dance behind your eyelids with the combined sensation. Simon can feel it too, how hot you are under him. Reduced purely to the feeling of him inside you. Heartbeat roaring in your ears.

Simon looks down at you, and something flickers in his expression. Not concern. Curiosity—desire—a beat of contemplation passing over his features as he wonders how long you'll let this go on.

“Hold on,” Simon says to the mic.

Simon pulls the cigarette from your lips—it's almost out. Stubs it out in the ashtray next to the mattress on the floor. “Breathe,” he says against your cheek, speaking to you for the first time—low, devoid of affection.

You gasp, a raw, coughing inhale. Air finally hits your lungs. It hurts, yet your senses rushing back to you is heady enough to make you moan. You're crying now, you realize, tears tracking down your hot cheeks.

Having you under him like this, like a fish out of water, at his whim, satisfies some morbid part of him. A child wearing heels too big, a lock without a key, and so on. You're pretty and misshapen—breakable, usable, fuckable. He can feed you his brand of poison and you don't say no, whether that's your choice or because Simon is strong enough to keep your mouth shut. Johnny always did say Simon needed to find himself an easy lay to take the edge off.

He watches you for a long moment, the way you look at him like a bird with a wounded wing, then taps the screen and lifts the phone back to his ear.

“Alright, still here. What'd I miss?”

𖧁୧ hi there ! gentle reminder that likes & reblogs are some of the best ways to support authors here, they make a huge difference! ♡

a/n — somehow found the perfect picture for this fic by pure chance AFTER i started writing the draft and iʼm still so amazed.

You drank too much.

You know you did.

One drink with the girls over happy hour turned into two, and somewhere after the third, they started blurring together.

Then the crying started—the slightly too loud "how could he do this to me?" at the table making onlookers turn their heads. The pitiful stares of your friends, their hands running along your back in what was supposed to be quiet comfort, all settled in your stomach like a lead weight.

Against all odds, you somehow made it home without stumbling or throwing up in the Uber. Made it up the three flights to your front door. Dropped your keys more than once like the clumsy fool you are, all while the poor old lady across the hall was forced to listen to every expletive you could think of, muttered beneath your vodka-scented breath.

Now you're lying in bed, pajamas half on, phone in hand as you fixate on things you have no business dragging up.

An ex.

The ex.

Should you call him?

Definitely not.

Are you typing in the number you know by heart and pressing call anyway?

Absolutely.

If for nothing else than to tell him to go to hell, that you hope he's miserable without you.

That, or you'll start blubbering like a baby again and regret it like a shot to the head come morning.

You already fucked up royally by looking. Saw the tagged photos, the smiling selfies, the public softness he never gave you. The girl who matters more than you ever did under his arm.

What's another mistake to add to the growing list of ones you've made so far?

The line rings a few times before it clicks to life.

You blink, stare at the ceiling for a couple seconds too long, insides curdling before his name even makes it past your throat.

"...Evan?"

He sighs, low and deep, more tired than anything else.

You're crying before he can get a word out. Shudders that stay lodged in your chest quickly growing to the humiliating, telltale sobs that betray any composure you might have had left.

"I didn't mean to call," you lie, wiping at your eyes, sniffing quietly. "God, I'm just confused. Why did you even say you loved me if you were just gonna—"

You trail off, the words dying on your tongue, swallowed down with another shaky breath.

Joel toes off his boots, groaning quietly as he drops onto the couch, the springs creaking in protest.

The first time he's sat all day, and apparently this is what he's doing with it—listening in on something he's got no business hearing.

"He cheat?" he asks simply.

That voice, unfamiliar to your ears, shuts you up real quick.

You frown, pulling the phone from your ear to glance at it, your reflection glaring back at you in confusion. The number is exactly how you remember it.

Five-eight-four—

Fuck.

"Oh, my god," you groan loudly, face screwing up in embarrassment, palm connecting with your forehead sharp enough to leave a mark.

Maybe you deserve it, drunk-dialing some poor stranger just going about his business and spilling your guts out without hesitation.

"I'm so sorry. Wrong number."

"Just about," he says gruffly.

You're too far gone to say much else—cheeks flushed with humiliation, fingers twisted in the sheets.

"He do that often?" he asks suddenly, the question lingering.

"Do what often?"

"Make you cry."

Damn him for asking.

The question lands harder than it should, enough to make your breath catch, what was meant to be a quiet sob coming out mortifyingly loud.

Your free hand drags through your hair, fingertips snagging in the tangles it accrued throughout the night, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke still clinging to the strands.

"...Yeah," you admit reluctantly, voice small. "That's—"

You breathe deep, sinking further into the mattress.

"Yeah."

You scrub hard at your face, like maybe if you do it enough, the shame will come off along with the mascara streaked down your cheeks.

Joel doesn't say a thing. Not yet, anyway.

The silence stretches—not awkward, but not exactly comforting, either. Your laugh comes out brittle.

"This is so humiliating."

You sniff, dragging your sleeve under your nose with a grimace.

"You can hang up if you want."

He can.

He probably should.

This isn't his business and he knows it.

But Sarah's at a friend's for the night. The only alternative is the lonely hum of the radiator, a cold beer, and whatever game show rerun is on this late.

He exhales through his nose—slow, steady.

What the hell.

"Go on."

That simple permission from him does something to your chest, loosens it just enough for you to make it through the story without crying your eyes out.

He doesn't tell you you're a pain—doesn't make you feel small or stupid for trusting the wrong man. Just sits there, listening without a word.

"—then my friend said he was always a little ugly anyway, which honestly wasn't helpful, it only made me feel worse, 'cause, like, what does that even say about me—"

You trail off with a yawn, eyes heavy, the phone slipping slightly from your grip.

"And yeah..." you murmur. "That's what happened."

"Mhm."

The beer's gone warm in Joel's grip, phone resting on his chest as he listens to your breathing evening out on the other line.

His eyes are on the television, arm tucked behind his head, watching some poor bastard blow his Jeopardy winnings in the same damn category—like he didn't learn the first three times.

He waits for you to say something else, the silence growing longer.

"...you still there?"

When you don't respond, breathing deep and steady into the receiver, he scrubs a hand over his face.

"...Get some sleep."

Click.

Joel thinks about you all damn day.

Not in a dramatic, poetic way he'd ever admit out loud, but in little flashes that distract him more than he'd like.

The sound of your crying through the receiver while he rips out old drywall.

That small, embarrassed little thank you when he didn't leave you high and dry at your worst, coming to mind as he tries to drive a screw into place.

Your sleepy sighs when the night grew late as he lays down a tarp.

He tells himself it was a one-off—a drunk stranger, wrong number, end of story—but even Tommy notices something's off.

"You plannin' on starin' that damn drill to death or you gonna use it?"

Joel grunts, ignores him, throwing himself back into his work without a word.

But his head just isn't in it.

"Who's got you all distracted, brother?" Tommy asks, a sly grin growing on his lips, like he knows something Joel won't admit.

"I ain't distracted."

"Sure... Alright." He walks past, claps him on the back. "And I'm the Pope."

When Joel manages to get a minute to himself, he stares at his phone like the damn thing's liable to blow up any second.

One text. That's all he needs.

He types You okay? Decides it's simple enough. Hits send before he can tell himself what a damn fool he's being.

Meanwhile, you wake in a cold sweat.

Hair a mess, strands stuck to your damp forehead, feeling like you've just been hit by a freight train.

Popping a couple painkillers, you groan as you sit up, back slumping against the headboard.

Squinting one eye open, you pat around for your phone, digging it out from somewhere beneath your hip.

You don't remember much about last night.

The taste of liquor in your throat. Your friends trying to console you over Cosmopolitans and bad karaoke.

Crying.

Lots and lots of crying.

That much, you remember. But there's an odd feeling nagging at you, like you're forgetting something important.

Your phone vibrates in your palm, a new message jolting you from your thoughts.

— You okay?

You stare at it until your eyes dry out, and something happens in your chest you can't explain.

It's not panic—not yet. It's something quieter, an odd sense of relief that washes you clean.

The tension eases from your shoulders in waves, a calming breath leaving your chest.

He checked.

And only then do things start to click—the memory crashing in all at once.

The man on the phone. The shameless sobbing in his ear as you told him your whole life story like he asked for it. Him listening without a word.

Your jaw goes slack, mortification taking its rightful place in your expression as you drop your face into your hands with a silent scream.

You glance at the message again—fingers hovering over the keyboard— cycling through what on earth you could even say to make up for it, but nothing seems good enough.

Maybe he'll forget all about it.

What if he doesn't?

With a deep, steadying breath, you mull it over.

You'll call him tonight, you decide. Just the once.

Apologize and put this all behind you. Put him behind you.

Might be easier said than done.

You pace once, then back again—arms crossed tight over your chest, thumbnail caught between your teeth as your phone sits on the bed like a live grenade.

His number still open and waiting, the clock on your bedside reading nine on the dot.

This is ridiculous.

You're a grown woman. You can call a man and apologize for drunkenly unloading your entire tragic backstory onto him without needing to explain yourself.

It's a normal response. Reasonable, even. Entirely sane.

Just call, apologize, clear the air. After all, the worst he can do is not answer.

Or block you.

Or answer just to tell you to never call him again.

Your face twists, stomach turning.

Okay. Maybe not the worst.

You tell yourself he wouldn't have texted if that was the case, if he didn't care at least a little bit. So, before you can think better of it, you lunge for the phone and press call.

Your eyes widen in immediate regret, but your fingers are too slow to hang up.

"Shit."

You drag a hand through your hair, resume your pacing while the call connects.

It rings only once before he answers, like he was expecting you.

He was.

"Hi—"

His sigh is slow as it comes through. Not annoyed, but something warmer—light enough to stop you dead in your tracks.

"You makin' a habit outta this?"

"Of what?" you ask, swallowing around the sudden dryness in your throat.

"Callin' men you don't know," he says—like it's obvious.

Despite yourself, your mouth tips upward.

No irritation, no clipped impatience. Just warmth in his voice that loosens something in your chest.

"Technically, the first time was an accident," you counter in defense.

"Yeah? And what's it this time?" he asks, giving you all the space you need to answer.

Your mouth opens, closes, the words not coming out as easy as you thought they would.

You settle on the edge of your bed, your free hand running idly along your thigh as you muster a reply that feels right.

"Just wanted to apologize. For last night."

Joel sets his beer down, rests his elbows on his thighs, repositioning the phone at his ear.

You listen, wait patiently for something—anything—toying with a loose thread on your bedspread, gaze fixed stubbornly on it.

"Got nothin' to apologize for."

You huff softly. "I beg to differ."

A moment passes, your steady breathing filling the space.

"I don't even know your name," you add quietly.

His head dips, jaw working, staring at nothing while he listens to the way your voice shrinks around the admission.

"Joel."

You lift your head, eyes rising, the name warming your chest.

"Joel," you repeat.

You tell him your name in return—it's only fair. But it feels like you're handing over something more precious than it is.

Then he says it back, turning it over in that rough voice like he's testing the shape of it in his mouth, making sure it fits.

It does.

It sounds better coming from him than it has from anyone else.

You don't quite know what to do with it.

"Suits you," he adds.

You sigh, head hanging between your shoulders.

He pretends it doesn't do a damn thing to him to hear you like this.

Not upset. Not shattered over some asshole who didn't deserve you.

Just you.

But hearing you say his name—soft, relieved, almost fond—settles something in him he'd rather not think too hard about.

You talk for a while after that—about anything and everything. This and that. Nothing important.

Just things.

Somewhere between talking about work and him complaining about his daughter making him upgrade his phone, you find out he isn't married.

No wife, no girlfriend. Just him and Sarah. And when he talks about her, something in his voice shifts—softening around the edges with unmistakable pride.

Your heart likes the sound of it.

The hours pass quicker than you'd like, and it isn't long before you chance a glance at the time and wince.

"It's getting late," you say softly. "I should probably let you go."

"Yeah. Got work... and Sarah just got home."

"Sarah—right..."

The silence stretches once more, and you feel it then, hanging in the air between you.

Reluctance.

"Joel?"

"Yeah?"

"...Glad I called," you admit.

For a moment, all you have is the sound of him there. Just a quiet exhale through the line, softer than before.

"Yeah," he says then. "Me too."

Click.

You lay there a little while after, phone still flush to your ear—like if you stay there and wait, he might reappear on the other end, giving you more time to memorize the sound of his voice.

He doesn't.

And you realize too late you've begun to memorize it anyway.

Two weeks later, you're still calling, and Joel's still answering like it doesn't cost him a thing. But deep down, he knows it does.

He won't admit he waits by the phone now, soon as nine o'clock rolls around. That he lets it ring before picking up so he doesn't seem too eager.

Sarah's started to notice it, too.

Him smiling to himself about some unspoken thing, eyes drifting to his phone just before he puts her to bed.

He was right that it's become a habit, and if there's one thing either of you know about habits, it's that they can be dangerous little things.

This one feels like it might just be headed that way.

Before, you wondered if you were grasping at straws—fighting to keep something alive that didn't want to be—but he meets you halfway now.

And God, if that doesn't make you want to hold on that much tighter.

"How was work?" you ask, rummaging through your dresser, phone on speaker.

"Fine. Same as always," he replies, exhaling slow. You hear the sound of his throat as he takes a swig, the quiet drone of the TV through the receiver.

"How was school?"

"Ugh, it was boring," you scoff. "Two exams and the longest lecture of my life."

He snorts. "Brat."

You freeze.

It's the first time he's ever called you that, and it sends an unexpected warmth skittering up your back, lingering at your nape.

Gaping at the phone, a surprised laugh escapes you.

"Excuse you. I am not a brat."

"You are. Always talkin' back," he says, like that explains it.

Before you can get a word out, he adds, "See? There you go again."

A smile finds you anyway—slow and unbidden as it settles on your lips.

"You're so annoying," you mutter, hands stilling momentarily as you glance at his name on the screen.

Joel 🤍

The heart emoji next to it? Purely decorative.

That's what you've been telling yourself since it found its way there, anyway.

"What're you diggin' for?" he asks, pulling you from your sudden daze. "Makin' all that noise."

"I'm just looking for something," you say casually, trailing off as your fingers card through the drawer in search of the right thing.

You don't mention you're looking for a nightie you bought months back—pink silk with white lace. The same one you can't stop imagining him bunching up around your hips before he—

Woah.

No.

You're just going to change, lie down, listen to him talk about his day the way you always do.

And maybe you'll slip your fingers into your panties while you do, rub one out before he notices anything is amiss.

That's all. No big deal.

It's an innocent crush, is what it is.

"...Somethin' on your mind, sweetheart?"

"What?" you say—too quick, too breathy.

You shake it off, rest your hand on your chest to steady your heart. As if he didn't just catch you in the middle of a thought that grew legs and ran out ahead of you.

"No, nothing. Just—" your fingertips find home on the soft fabric, latching on instantly. "A-ha!" you exclaim, pulling it from the drawer with a satisfied grin.

He's silent for a moment, then speaks again, voice lower now—curiosity dripping from every word.

"What'd you find?"

Biting the inside of your cheek, you turn toward the mirror, smoothing the fabric over your frame.

"Mm... nothin' really."

You tilt your head, watching yourself. The words slip before you can stop them.

"You'd like it."

Joel pauses mid-sip, beer tilted against his lips as he registers what you said. The silence is a heady thing, stretching for miles between you, so palpable you can nearly taste it.

You can't help but wonder if he's imagining you the way you do him.

When it's late at night and he's on your mind, and your composure slips enough that it's his name you sigh into the dark—only to pretend in the morning you didn't step over that line in the sand that's been fading more and more by the day.

His voice darkens, dropping low enough to send all the warmth in your body pooling south the moment he speaks.

"Yeah?" he asks. "That so?"

The silk shifts against your bare legs—soft and delicate, too gentle for the filth that's suddenly clogging up your mind.

"Yeah," you murmur, confidence coming in like waves on a shore, tide growing high. "I think you would."

You hear the quiet clink of his beer as he sets it down, the rustle as he adjusts himself on the couch to get more comfortable. You close your eyes—let yourself picture him.

Big hands running up your thighs, rough and calloused from working hard, parting them just enough to get a good look at you. Beard scraping your skin as he kisses his way down your chest, lips finding your ear to rumble words that make you ache.

"You still with me, sweetheart?"

"Mhm," you hum, quieter than you need to be, not wanting to give yourself away.

Your fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it off, discarding it on the floor without a care.

Slipping the nightgown overhead, you pull it down as far as it goes—just above mid-thigh, hugging your body like a glove.

He hears it all.

The difference in your breathing, the sounds of you changing, clothes being tossed aside.

He's imagining you, too. With all the shamelessness a lonely man like him can muster.

Picturing what you might look like under him.

If your eyes would be blue or brown as they stare into his.

If your nails would leave light indents along his back, or deep, red scratches that would still be there come morning.

Then the obvious—if your face is as pretty as that voice of yours. If the little noises you'd let out when he makes you feel good would sound as sweet as he's envisioned.

"You changin' for me?"

Your heart thunders in your ears—loud and unruly—throat running dry, like cotton in your mouth when you try to speak.

You swallow. "Maybe."

It's been a while since your mind started chiding you for this, telling you to quit while you're ahead, but you don't listen. Enough to ignore it when it tells you this is something you can't come back from.

You know that.

And still, you couldn't care less.

"You wanna see?" you offer, eyes fluttering shut as you try to slow your pulse, breaths coming in quicker now.

His grip tightens around the phone, pressing it closer to his ear like it'll let him hear those words again.

You're offering something he should refuse, something he has no right to accept. But Joel Miller's quickly learning he doesn't have the honest strength to deny you a damn thing.

"Sweetheart..." he says, letting the silence speak for itself for a minute. "Don't do that unless you mean it."

You interject smoothly—so wound up, you're practically trembling where you stand.

You laugh to yourself, a huff of nervousness that makes your chest feel tight. "I mean it. Just—tell me you wanna see me."

It takes Joel a while to get the words out.

Not because he doesn't want to.

Maybe it's knowing what all it could do. A sweet thing on the other end of the line—something too good for the likes of him—offering herself up to his eyes without hesitation.

It's bound to change things, for better or for worse.

And he's never been a fan of change.

Even still, he can't say no to you. Won't.

Not when you're asking like you're half-convinced he'll reject you already, like a man who doesn't know what he's got.

"Yeah," he mutters finally. "Wanna see you."

Something in you draws up tight at that, a flutter in your stomach that knocks the wind clean out of you.

"Okay... Yeah, okay. Give me a second," you murmur, ambling over to your bed.

You settle onto your knees, sitting back on your calves, legs parted to reveal delicate lace panties you put on with him in mind. The silk slides under your fingers as you draw up the slip, until it sits resting high around your hips.

You've done this before, taken photos of yourself for a man—more than once.

But... it's never felt like this.

Not even close.

There's a steady flush in your cheeks, and a heat like fire burning down low, an ache building you wish he could soothe.

He'd know what to do, you think.

How to get you riled up, filthy words low and rough in your ear as he works you over with his fingers. Then, mouth trailing down your chest, he'd settle against your wet heat, lapping at you until you finish on his tongue, drinking you down without hesitation.

You purse your lips, press them together tight to tamp down how the thought of him taking care of you is ruining you more and more by the second.

Once the picture is gone in the air, hitting send with shaky hands, you drop back onto the bed and wait for it to deliver.

When he doesn't say a thing, you're close to asking if he got it—then, you hear it.

Quiet enough to miss if you're not paying attention.

But you are, without a goddamn doubt.

A slow release through his nose, proceeded by a hum that has your thighs clamping shut, breath hitching in your chest.

Satisfied.

Appreciative.

"You wear that for me?" he asks, a husky shift in tone that has your lips parting.

"Yeah, I—"

You stop yourself, take a second.

"Do you like it?"

"You gotta ask?" he murmurs, drawl draping itself around every word, a shiver running through you at the sound.

You giggle softly.

"Maybe I do. You're a man of few words," you return, finger twirling around a strand of your hair.

"Oh, I got words, darlin'. They just ain't sweet enough."

"I'm sweet enough for the both of us," you blurt, the double-meaning landing heavy between you.

He goes quiet again, long enough to make you wonder if you broke him. When he speaks again, his voice lands low in your belly, twisting you up deliciously.

"That right?"

"Mhm," you hum, smiling to yourself, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"Keep talkin' like that. That mouth's gonna get you in trouble."

Your mind takes that idea and runs with it before you can reel it back in. Joel bending you over his knee, his hand coming down firm on your ass, leaving a handprint that lingers for days, hot to the touch.

That same harsh voice in your ear telling you exactly what your mouth got you.

Christ.

"You still with me?" he asks.

"Yeah," you blurt, tongue darting out to wet your lips, tone laced with anticipation. "I'm here. Just... thinking."

The small grin in his voice registers without needing to see it. It drives you crazy.

"About me?"

You laugh, a touch unsteady. "Yeah, about you... wanna see you."

"Mm," he hums, as if considering it. Like he's not already straining against his jeans from that one picture of you.

"What you wanna see?" he asks finally.

"Your face," you mumble, a near whisper. "Your hands... your fingers."

Another low breath filters through the speaker, sounding like a heady mix of amusement and sheer arousal. But he doesn't laugh, not outright—doesn't tease you for being specific.

He takes it exactly how you meant it.

"My hands," he repeats slowly, rolling the words around his mouth like he's tasting them. "Fingers."

You hear a rustle—denim shifting against denim—then a heavy creak like he's leaning back, spreading his legs wider, latching onto every goddamn word that leaves your mouth.

"What exactly do you wanna do with 'em?"

You swallow, worrying your bottom lip, staring at the ceiling to try and ground yourself.

"I was hoping you'd be the one using them, actually."

The admission hangs in the air, raw and unrestrained. You're giving him control and he knows it.

When he speaks again, his voice has darkened—breaths slower, more controlled. Then that rough, approving sound rumbles low in his throat, a faint curse muttered under his breath.

"Ain't even touched you and you got me actin' stupid."

Your fingers tighten in the sheets before relaxing completely, running slowly along your thigh, phone angling closer to your ear.

"...You wanna touch me?"

He pauses.

"Been thinkin' about it."

You flush instantly, thighs clenching again, tighter this time.

"...Tell me about it," you say.

His response takes a moment to come out, like he's choosing every word carefully.

"You wanna know what I'd do with my hands on you?" he asks, voice rougher at the edges, dragging over every syllable like gravel under a boot heel.

Your fingers inch closer to your core, rubbing slow over the lace, applying just enough pressure to make your back arch as a shiver curls its way up your spine.

"Yeah," you whisper, a ragged little sound in your throat. "Please."

"I'd start slow," he says, voice dropping an octave. "Real slow."

You let your eyes flutter shut as you press down firmer, rubbing in slow circles that have your hips bucking into your hand, focused entirely on the sound of his voice in your ear.

"Slide my hands up your thighs real gentle, feel how soft your skin is. Wouldn't leave marks—too pretty for that."

"And if I ask nicely?" you ask breathlessly.

Joel palms himself through his jeans, sighing with relief as he works himself free.

The sound of his zipper perks you right up.

"Got a feelin' I'd have a hard time tellin' you no."

"That's a dangerous thing to tell a girl like me," you goad, moving the lace aside to swipe a finger along your slit. You circle your clit firmly, just once—all you need to have you whimpering in his ear.

He hums low, the sound rumbling through the phone like a physical touch.

"Reckon it is."

His hand moves over himself faster now, imagining your fingers taking the place of his own, working up a steady rhythm that has him grunting under his breath.

"You started this."

The slick sound of your arousal reaches him through the speaker, followed by that pretty voice of yours that has his movements faltering.

"I did," you admit. "...But you wanted it to happen."

"Not denyin’ that," he says, low and unhurried. "Wanted it."

He pauses.

"Still do."

"Me too," you whisper, lashes fluttering when you finally sink a finger in—curling just enough to hit that spot that makes you shiver, drawing a moan from your lips.

His head tips back against the couch, jaw tight, hanging onto every little noise you make.

"Add another," he says suddenly, your eyes opening in a daze.

"What—"

"You heard me. Another."

Your mouth parts on instinct, heat flooding your face, pulse kicking hard at your throat.

"Joel..."

"C'mon, sweetheart. Don't go shy on me now."

Eyes squeezing shut, your hand obeys before your mind can catch up.

It's a tight fit, walls clenching around your fingers to try and accommodate the sudden fullness. You bite your lip nearly hard enough to bleed, whining at the feel of it, his name tumbling from your lips like it's the only word you have left.

"That's it," he murmurs. "There you go."

You're not sure what does you in.

His hard breaths across the line, the wet sounds his hand makes as he strokes himself—a slow and languid rhythm at first, soon picking up pace to match your own—but before you can help it, you're tensing, coming with a sharp cry of his name.

Joel's hand tightens around his length, his own breath catching in his throat. He can imagine you all too easily—back arched, face flushed, those legs spread wide as you come apart.

That's all it takes.

With a guttural groan, he comes hard, release coating his hand, spilling onto his stomach.

Coming down from the high, you right your panties into place and settle onto your side. You curl up under the sheets, listening to his staggered breaths as he puts himself back together again.

"So..." you murmur, toying with the hem of your nightgown, core still throbbing from your release. "Same time tomorrow?"

He breathes deep, trying to steady himself as best he can, letting the silence speak for itself.

Then—

"Yeah."

You smile, slow and satisfied—wait for him to say it.

"Same time tomorrow."

a/n: i interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you... a very self-indulgent, horny joel miller fic! and the crowd goes wild!!! idk why my first ever breakup came to mind to use as a plot device, but life imitates art or something like that.

Nothing. A red flag waved in Joel's head, and then he caught sight of the kitchen.

That's where he found you. Hunched over the kitchen table, pouring over a bulky textbook labeled with long scientific words he couldn't hope to pronounce. The only light in the home came from a warm table lamp, illuminating you in a soft gold.

He recognized the tightness in your shoulders, a heaviness that weighed on your frame. You didn't even glance at him as he shut the front door, locked on whatever that textbook was telling you. The red flag waved again.

"Doin' alright, honey?" he called, kicking off his boots and pulling off his wet rain jacket at the front door.

It took a moment for you to answer, a beat of silence filled only by downpour of rain sweeping over the house.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you replied. God, even your voice was different, laden with a wistfulness he'd never heard come from you before.

He moved closer, until he stood at your shoulder. Softly, he tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

You keened into the touch, a shallow breath parting your lips as he grazed a fingertip against your cheek.

"Look at me, baby," Joel breathed, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

You obeyed immediately, and Joel could've sworn your tight shoulders loosened a little as you tilted your head up to him.

As he'd suspected, shadows sunk below your beautiful eyes, the curve of your lips bitten from anxious tics.

"I know somethin' is wrong," he said, his fingers tracing the curve of your ear. "What is it?"

You stiffened, pulling away from his touch and looking back towards the damn textbook. "Nothing, it's nothing. I just need to finish this chapter, then we can fuck-"

Your name escaped his lips in a manner he didn't recognize. Dark, and deep. Commanding.

He nearly apologized, until he noticed how you turned to face him again, shoulders loosening a bit more.

Your eyes looked so wide, and needy. Like you were desperate to hear you name fall from his lips again. Craving it.

"Tell me what's wrong." Joel kept the same tone as before, and cocked his head to peer at you more closely.

You clenched your jaw, and when you spoke, it was timid, and shy. Unlike you.

“Been spiraling, recently. Work and school and friends and babysitting... it all gets... loud."

Your eyes filled with tears, but you seemed to relax into the chair a bit as you spoke.

"What else, baby?"

You swallowed, and a solitary tear fell down your cheek. Neither of you moved to wipe it away. "I’m constantly thinking about what I’ve done wrong, what I could do wrong, how I can do better, what I should have done better, on and on and on and… I just need it to quiet. I just… I need to stop thinking so much."

Joel peered at you, bringing his hand to your face gently, wiping the stray tear from your cheekbone. “I can make it quiet."

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat. “You can?”

Joel nodded, his hand migrating downward, until he held the crook of your jaw. "How do you want me to make it quiet, honey?” he whispered, studying your parted lips, your widened eyes, the slight heat he felt on your cheeks.

"I... I want to do exactly as I'm told. I want..."

Joel pressed his thumb lightly into your pulse point. Your lips parted a bit more, giving away your neediness for him. "You want me to think for you for a bit? Empty that pretty little head of yours?"

Your heartbeat quickened under his hand. "Yes, yes."

A beat passed. Joel titled his head. “What's your safeword?”

You didn’t even blink. “Spiraling.”

“Good girl.” Your eyelashes fluttered at the name. “Anything you need, to slow down, to stop, to pause, say spiraling. I won’t stop unless you use your safeword, understood? If you can't speak, pinch me twice, and don't be gentle about it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Oh, that was new. It sent blood rushing to Joel's cock.

He leaned down, giving you a faint kiss on the lips, before letting go.

A slight whimper escaped you as he moved away, sitting in the kitchen chair opposite you.

He smirked at your confused expression, having no doubt you were dripping in your shorts.

He kept that same commanding tone from before. "Get on your knees."

---

Joel's eyes darkened as he peered at you, sending shivers down your spine. God, he hadn't even touched you, yet your cunt was beating with every thrum of your heart.

His voice was that same rough grit as before when he spoke again. "Get on your knees."

That one order, so simple, so direct, cut any anxious noise down to size in an instant. You obeyed without hesitation, driven by an innate desire to do exact as you were told.

You knelt between his spread legs instantly, licking your lips as you held his burning gaze.

He cocked his head, studying your expression. "Right now, baby, you ain't gotta be nothin' but a mouth. How does that sound?"

A shudder trembled through you, a soft moan leaving your lips. "That sounds... perfect."

Joel smiled lightly, such an odd expression when combined with dark, lusting eyes. "Well, take it out then. I don't wanna hear a peep from you, unless it's gaggin' or your safeword, got it?"

You opened your mouth to answer, then closed it. Nodded instead. Joel huffed a laugh at your obedience to the letter.

Your fingertips fumbled with his fly, desperately pulling down the denim, then the boxers. A groan escaped Joel's mouth as you put your mouth on him, small licks up his hardening base.

"So sweet, baby," he drawled, his eyes fixed on your lips kissing along his cock. His hands cupped around your ears, guiding you towards the tip. Not rough, but steady.

The tip went past your lips easily, fully hard, your mouth wet and waiting for it. You held his gaze as he guided you down his length, holding lightly to the backs of his spread knees.

He hit the back of your throat quickly, your gag reflex flooding your mouth with saliva. You stiffened, but he held you close, his fingertips threaded in your hair.

"Breathe through your nose, baby, through your nose," he gritted, holding you in place. "You wanna do as I say? Breathe through your damn nose."

In that moment, there was nothing more important than following his instructions. As you breathed, your mouth relaxed, allowing another inch to slip down your throat.

"Atta girl, so good for me," Joel praised, raising your head slightly before pushing you down, getting deeper into your mouth with each thrust.

All anxiety fled your mind as he used you, allowing you to just... be. To be pliant and obedient, following directions as he talked you through each moment. Absorbing his praise, allowing it to fill you up like helium in a balloon.

Such a good girl.

Takin' it so well.

Doin' just as I told you.

All the way down.

That's it, baby.

As you sank down on his length, your nose buried in the hair at his base, he reached underneath your chin. His fingertips trailed down your throat, until he could feel the bulge of his cock in your neck.

The sound that left him was the only loss of control, a raw grunt trailing off into a low moan. It made you hum with satisfaction, vibrations from your mouth rolling down his erection.

You didn't notice the tears streaming down your cheeks until you felt his calloused thumb brushing them away.

"I'm gonna fuck your throat now, baby, just relax. I know you can take it."

It was your only warning before he pulled his cock roughly from your throat, letting the tip linger on the edge of your tongue before forcing it deep into you again. And again. And again.

You thought you were crying, but you weren't sure. He laced his fingers so gently through your hair, a sharp contrast to the roughness he handled your throat with.

The praise he gave was more guttural, less restrained, and you moaned around his cock at every bit of it, cut off only by your occasional gagging.

That's so fuckin' perfect, baby.

Takin' my cock so deep, poor thing can't even breathe.

Cryin', you want it so bad.

Suckin' me dry.

You make me so proud, just a little bit more, honey.

He pulled you off of him suddenly, a whine leaving your lips as his cock left your mouth.

Joel stood firmly, wrapping a rough palm around his wet cock. His eyes were dark, but his cheeks were flushed with desire. You imagined yours looked similarly.

"Stand up," he commanded, and you hastily obeyed, your knees nearly buckling as you rose from the floor. You gazed up at him with teary eyes, breathing heavily.

Still palming himself, Joel smiled at your obedience, stepping closer to you, closer, closer, until the backs of your thighs hit the kitchen table. His chest pressed against yours, nearly nose to nose, his eyes fixed on your wet lips.

He brought his free hand up to your face gently, thumb pulling down on your bottom lip. You wrapped your lips around the tip, eyes fluttering shut.

"You'd let me do anythin', wouldn't you?" Joel wondered quietly, and you nodded, his thumb sliding further into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue.

Whimpering, you suckled on his thumb. Your body was loose and pliant, needy for Joel's commands and touches.

Anything he could do, you'd welcome.

The thought should've scared you, but instead it just made you moan again, desperate to show him your obedience. Desperate to hear that soft praise fall from his lips again.

"Good girl," he drawled, kissing your tear-streaked face delicately. "Turn around and bend over, baby."

You moaned as he pulled his thumb from your mouth, a string of spit hitting your chin. Neither of you bothered to wipe it away.

Vision hazy, you turned, bracing your hands against the kitchen table as you bent at the waist. You dipped lower, and lower, until your chest and face pressed into the hard wood.

"Remember your safeword? Say it." Joel ordered, though his tone was soft.

You took a deep breath. "Spiraling."

"And if you can't speak?"

"I pinch you twice."

You might've been shaking, and Joel made you wait as he looked his fill at you.

"Good. You are so beautiful, honey."

Air left your lungs as his words registered.

A finger traced around the wet stain marking your flimsy cotton shorts, his dark chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

You must have squirmed, because a second hand came down against your hip, pinning you to the table. The fingertip against your shorts turned into two, peeling the damp fabric of your shorts and panties away from your soaked cunt.

You tensed as cool air hit your warmth, earning a soft shhhhhhh from Joel, who seemed transfixed on your body. The fingertips digging into the curve of your hip were strong, and held your ass firmly in place as he began to play with you.

Two fingers stroked up and down your soaked slit, the light touch nearly torture against your sensitivity. You tried to brace yourself with your hands, nails digging into the wood as Joel teased at your entrance.

"Please, Joel," you whispered, fresh tears welling in your eyes. "Give me your fingers, please..."

He hummed with satisfaction. "Begging already?"

You nearly sobbed aloud. "Yes, yes, please, please, Joel..."

Joel kept his fingers still, right at the opening to your slick, but his hand against your hip moved.

It threaded through your hair, pulling, forcing an arch in your back, and bringing your head closer to his lips.

His breath was hot in your ear, seductive, and sure.

"I know you want my fingers, baby. Does it hurt, how much you want it?"

You whimpered, tears rolling freshly down your face. "Yes."

"Hmm. That's too bad." His tone was mean, and made your empty cunt clench around nothing. "You don't get to be stretched out on my fingers."

"What? Joel, please-"

His fingers against you disappeared, and the hand in your hair shifted, until it covered your entire mouth, muffling your pathetic begging about to spill from your lips.

"I know you can take it without, honey."

Without warning, his hard cock split you open, driving a near scream from your throat. It was muffled by Joel's hand, as were the frantic moans that followed.

His pace was brutal from the jump, his weight at your back overwhelming. The pain from the lack of foreplay stung, but in a way that had your pussy flooding as the pleasure rushed in. His thrusts sent your hips hard into the edge of the wooden table, again and again, sure to leave purpled bruises behind.

The hand that wasn't covering your mouth groped and pawed at your ass and lovehandles, trying to reach every inch of your ample backside.

Despite the rough handling, guttural praise spilled from his lips.

Your cunt feels like heaven, baby.

So wet and warm for me.

What a tough little cookie you are, huh?

Bet I could wear you down, give you my worst.

You'd take it all, just like you're doin' now.

That's what makes you so fuckin' perfect.

Doin' exactly what I say, when I say it.

Sweet, sweet baby for me.

Such a good fuckin' girl.

Your orgasm was fast, rushing through you like a free-flowing river. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, cries of pleasure barely contained by Joel's calloused palm on your mouth. One of your knees buckled, and your face felt tingly.

Joel fucked you all the way through it, chuckling darkly as your body locked, then shuddered with pleasure. "Oh, you fuckin' love this. So, so good," he drawled, not slowing his pace as you clenched around him. "And guess what? You're gonna give me another one, honey."

You sobbed with overstimulation as your orgasm faded, leaving you shaking your head against his firm hold. Another one would surely put you six feet under.

"Nuh uh, unless you're pinchin' me, I ain't quittin'," Joel gruffed. "I know you can give me another, baby. I bet you can feel it already, buildin' up in your belly."

You moaned once more at his words, always speaking the truth. The coil of an orgasm was already starting to tighten in your stomach, your pussy fluttered around Joel in anticipation and overstimulation.

The hand that had been groping your hips stilled, as if he were distracted by something else.

You nearly shrieked as his free thumb traced the edge of your wet hole where his cock drove in and out, gathering your slick on the fingertip.

When he pressed the same thumb up against your tightest hole, your cunt clenched even tighter, your second orgasm barreling faster and faster.

"Never played back here before, have we, baby?" Joel's tone was so sweet, and innocent, like he didn't have a thumb pressed against your asshole as he fucked your cunt. "Bet it would feel so good, like all your holes. Warm, and tight..."

He circled your asshole lightly, teasing his wet thumb against the muscle.

Your entire body tensed and shook, wetness gushing from your cunt as you came a second time. Near-screams ripped from your mouth, barely muffled by Joel's rough hand. Pulses from your pussy sent slick running down your legs, your back involuntarily arching up from the wooden table.

Joel came with a loud grunt, spilling deep into your cervix as your shuddering slowed.

For a moment, you both lingered there, joined.

Joel moved his hand from your mouth with an urgency, like he had almost forgotten it was there.

You felt him stand above you again, his fingertips pulling loose locks of hair from your sweaty forehead and eyes.

"Honey, I'm gonna pull out. It might hurt, but it's only for a second."

It did hurt, and you winced slightly, but the immediate gentle touches against your legs and hips made any discomfort disappear. At once, a simple fact hit you.

He hadn't even bothered to take your shorts or panties off. All that time, they had been shoved to the side as he had his way with you.

You started giggling against the wooden table, eyes fluttering open and shut as he gently pulled your shorts and panties down to your ankles, off your feet.

"What's so funny, pretty girl?" he asked, pulling your shoulders upwards to help you stand.

"You didn't even take my clothes off, and we did all... that," you explained, lifting yourself from the table. His hands held your waist carefully, turning you until your chest leaned into his.

Joel's eyes were dark, though not with heat like usual. More like... care. Tenderness. He cocked his head, glancing down at your legs. "You feel like you can walk?"

Your legs shook slightly, but you nodded.

He brushed a hand over your hair and furrowed his brows. "Upstairs?"

You laughed out loud at the thought. "Definitely not."

He huffed, like he was trying not to laugh with you. In an easy swoop of his arms under your knees and waist, he lifted you.

You hummed with delight at the pressure taken off your shaky legs, and Joel carried you up the stairs with as little effort it takes to carry an empty laundry basket.

He laid you down in his bed, quickly digging around in his clean clothes to find something for you to change into.

"Are you fussing over me?" You wondered aloud, watching him pull out an enormous Longhorns t-shirt, boxers, and thick rolled socks from his drawers.

He paused, as if realizing what he was doing. "Uh, yeah, I guess so. Feels right, given I was hard on you."

God, he looked so sweet. He held the assortment of comfy clothes like an offering, looking back at you with wide, heartfelt eyes. He was disheveled, his brow still a bit shiny with sweat. His jeans were still undone, hastily pulled up to his hips, no belt, no zip.

You smiled, ear to ear. At your grin, he mirrored the sentiment.

"I could definitely get used to this."

---

if you want way more where that came from xoxoxo