Better Get Some Ideas Cooking For A Story

Better get some ideas cooking for a story

MARRIED JOEL SITS ON YOU September Fic Prompt Challenge

To bid the summer farewell and celebrate the coming of Cuffing Season, I'd like to welcome you to join me in sin & get sat upon by Joel Miller.

Want to participate? Post your Married!Joel-Sat-Upon fic by September 30th with the hashtag #joel sat on me 2024 and tag me - @beefrobeefcal. You can also send me the link to said fic via direct msg or in my inbox.

FICS MUST INCLUDE:

Joel is married (does not have to be married to reader, y/n or person being sat upon)

The following wording: Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed over all a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline.

Happy writing!

Beefro👌🥩💜

all about beef

taglist for those who may be interested: @strang3lov3 @noxturnalpascal @whocaresstillthelouvre @jennaispunk @weregirlbyknight

@yopossum @ace-turned-confused @bitchesuntitled @timelordfreya @maggiemayhemnj

@goodwithcheese @rebel-held @gwendibleywrites @romanarose @xdaddysprincessxx

@artsy-girl-76 @wintrwinchestr @deathsholywaterr @merz-8 @slutsoutgutsout @covetyou

Hell yes I’d be interested in seeing more of them!

There is so much to explore here with her screams being the reason Joel flinched, seeing how they survive before landing in the Boston QZ, etc. oh the possibilities are endless! 😍😍

Flinched

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: The day after Sarah died, he flinched.

Warnings: angst, depression, suicidal thoughts and attempt (Joel), language, descriptions of injuries, killing some infected but nothing very descriptive

WC: 3.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

His chest hurt.

He could barely breathe.

What would be the point?

Even from his spot on Tommy's couch, collapsed in on himself with his daughter's blood dried on his arms and hands, he could hear it. He could hear the screams coming from outside, the snarling from whatever the fuck friends and neighbors had turned into, hopeless gunshots bursting into the night, but none of it mattered. Not anymore.

Because Sarah was dead. He failed her. He had one fucking job to do in this life and he failed.

"We'll bury her first thing in the mornin'."

Joel practically jumped out of his skin, heart lodging itself in his throat when he heard his brother's voice behind him.

"Where is she?" he whispered, tilting his head to the side. They kept all the lights off in the house so Tommy wouldn't be able to see his tear soaked face anyway, but still, Joel refused to look at him.

"In the spare bedroom. I couldn't-" Tommy choked up and took a deep breath, eyes fixing on the floor before trying again. "Couldn't leave her in the garage. It just... didn't feel right."

Joel nodded and twisted back around to stare blankly at the dark television.

He made his decision. Amongst the terror and the pain and the world crumbling down around them, Joel knew what he had to do.

Tomorrow, after they buried his little girl, he was going to join her.

"Did'ya wanna say a prayer or... somethin'?" Tommy asked, wiping the sweat from his brow and leaning on his shovel. Joel continued to tamp down the loose dirt. He had to make it perfect. If he couldn't save her, the very least he could do was make her final resting place perfect.

"No," he said coldly. Joel dropped the shovel and limped over to the wheelbarrow to sift through the river rocks he collected that afternoon. He meticulously picked each one, some for their color, some for their shape and some for how smooth they felt under his calloused fingers.

Slowly, he stacked the rocks at the head of her grave. When he didn't like something or if a rock tumbled, he started over. Shifting and replacing and fixing each rock just so until he stepped back and felt it looked suitable enough for his little girl.

Finally, when there was nothing else to do, Joel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Now that the living had either fled or turned and wandered off, the neighborhood was quiet. Almost peaceful, if he didn't know any better. But he did.

He opened his eyes and looked back down at the fresh dirt. She was right there. So close, yet so far. Soon.

Tommy eyed him carefully. He knew Joel had to grieve in his own way, but he was unusually calm. He expected anger or even blame. Maybe he was in shock.

"We should think 'bout leavin'," Tommy said hesitantly. "'Bout where we should go. Maybe up north is better." He expected his brother to fight back, for him to shout and scream he would never leave Sarah, but Joel simply nodded and picked up his shovel.

"Wherever you want."

Soon.

He waited until Tommy went to bed. Then he waited a little more. He sat on Tommy's back steps, staring at Sarah's grave just five feet away. His elbows rested on his knees, he flipped the handgun they had pulled from the solider back and forth in his hands.

And he just... stared.

He thought of his happiest memories. When Sarah was first born, when she took her first steps, when she first said dada. He remembered fondly when he took her camping for the first time and roasted marshmallows. He remembered taking her to her first school dance in a pretty yellow dress she picked out that was way too expensive but he didn't dare say a word. When he thought about the conversations they had about her future, where she wanted to go to college, what degrees she was curious about, his chest both warmed and ached with pain.

He picked one memory. It wasn't even his favorite, just one when he remembered being truly and utterly happy. He thought about the smile on his little girl's face, he thought about her beautiful laugh and the way her tiny arms felt around his torso and he closed his eyes, exhaling heavily and slowly bringing the gun to his temple.

He was ready. He wasn't scared. He could see her eyes, replicas of his own, and he smiled when his finger grazed the trigger.

A sharp scream filled the quiet night air, his gun going off half a second later.

His eyes snapped open, a searing hot pain radiating on the side of his head caused his hand to instantly fly up. Something sticky coated his fingertips and he slowly dropped his hand, staring in shock at the dark red blood that slid down his fingers.

Joel heard Tommy's heavy footsteps running from inside the house. Then the door flung open behind him. Joel continued to sit on the bottom step, gun abandoned on the ground and still staring in disbelief at his bloody hand.

"What the fuck, Joel?" Tommy gasped, stumbling halfway down the rickety wooden steps. "What did you do?"

It was a good question. What did he do? He knew what he wanted to do, so why didn't he fucking do it?

Then another scream echoed across the lawn, this time a little muffled, like it was coming from inside a nearby home. Both brothers looked up and scanned the dark yard, then Tommy jumped down the rest of the stairs and snatched the gun from the grass before racing across the lawn to the house next door.

"Wait!" Joel yelled, scrambling to follow his brother, completely unarmed except for a menacing looking knife he also stole from the body of the solider. It was only fitting he steal from him after he stole everything from Joel.

He followed Tommy into the practically pitch black house, stumbling and tripping over tossed furniture to catch up. To his surprise, he rounded a corner and ran smack dab into Tommy's back.

"I can't hear it, shh," he said, finger to his lips, pistol pointing to the ground.

"Hear what?" Joel asked angrily. Tommy glared at him over his shoulder.

"Someone needs help."

"Not our fuckin' problem," he seethed, then they heard the scream again. It was coming from upstairs.

Tommy took the steps two at a time and Joel reluctantly trailed behind. After kicking in one door and finding the room empty, Tommy finally found the source of the screaming in the master bedroom.

You were pinned to the floor by one of those... monsters. Arm outstretched above your head, desperately trying to reach for the fireplace poker that was a good foot away while your other arm held that thing by the throat above you. But you were growing tired. They could both see the violent shake in your arm and the pure terror in your eye as you realized it was your final moment on earth.

Tommy raised the gun and took aim, only to be knocked down by another one who had previously looked like a dead body in the corner of the room. And it probably was, when they first stepped in, but had reanimated and came back to life while they hesitated for that brief second.

He rolled over and punched the creature across the jaw, sending it stumbling backwards and giving Tommy a moment to reach for his gun. Joel took one step towards him, thinking he couldn't possibly lose the only other person he had left in this world, when you screamed again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw your arm collapse and now you were holding the monster up by your elbow, its teeth gnashing and snapping inches from your throat.

Tommy swung the pistol around and got a round off, clipping the second creature in the shoulder before steadying his aim and getting it square in the head.

"Joel! Help her!" Tommy yelled from the floor over the screams from both you and the infected.

Fuck.

He yanked the tactical knife from his waist and lunged forward, grabbing the infected by the shoulder just as your arm gave out. He lodged the blade into the side of its head with a grunt and the room fell silent.

Joel let the body slump to the floor at his feet before locking eyes with you for the first time. Your chest was heaving, skin coated in sweat, some blood and god knows what else.

"T-thank you," you whimpered. Joel sized you up quickly, determining almost instantly that you wouldn't last long in this world. You weren't built for it. It's been two days and you were still wearing pajamas and a pair of tennis shoes, for Christ's sake.

"That all you got? A poker?" Joel asked gruffly as he watched you sit up weakly, picking it up with shaky hands.

"Yeah," you replied softly, clutching it against your chest with your back to the wall. Tommy finally stood and brushed himself off before squinting at you in the darkness.

"Ain't you the Potter's girl?"

You shook your head, then nodded, like you couldn't make up your mind.

"I'm not related to them. I'm a visiting nurse. I check in on them once a week, do a few errands for them, pick up their medication. Stuff like that."

"Visiting nurses run errands for people?" Joel asked with an edge to his voice. Your eyes slid back over to him, gaze lingering a moment on his bloody cheek and you shook your head again.

"Not supposed to but they don't have anyone else. They're too frail to make it to the store, so I help them out when I can." You paused and swallowed the lump in your throat before dropping your gaze and adding, "well, I did."

The room fell silent again, nobody sure where to go from there. Tommy tried to catch Joel's eye so he could wordlessly ask to take you in, but he avoided it. You cleared your throat and pointed to the gash on Joel's cheek.

"Do you want me to take a look at that?"

"No," Joel spat, then turned on his heel to stalk out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Tommy looked at you with pity, his kind nature still alive and well while his brother's seemed to die along with Sarah.

"Lemme try 'n talk to him."

You shook your head and pushed yourself to your feet. "No, it's alright. I'll be fine."

"You got any people?"

You shook your head again. "No. That's kind of part of the gig. We... travel wherever there's a need. My contract in Texas is supposed to end next month."

Tommy sighed and looked through the door towards the stairs. "You ain't gonna make it on your own."

"I'll manage," you said sternly. "I'm tougher than I look. I've dealt with a lot of nasty patients. Ones that have tried to hurt me, even."

"This is different," Tommy said gently, gesturing towards the two dead bodies in the room.

You bit your lip and followed his gaze. "Yeah, suppose it is."

He thought about it for a minute, navigating the complexity of what it would entail to have you join them, then nodded and holstered his gun.

"Here's the deal," he began. "Look through the clothes here. Find somethin' that'll fit you. Find some boots if you can. Jeans. Find clothes that'll layer. I got other stuff next door but I don't got girl's clothes."

You looked nervously around the room. The idea of going with these two strange men didn't exactly thrill you, but he was right. You couldn't make it all on your own.

"Okay."

He took a deep breath and stuck out his hand. "I'm Tommy. That was my brother, Joel," he said shaking your hand when you gave him your name. "We're good people. We'll look out for you."

"Just out of the kindness of your hearts, huh?"

Tommy dropped your hand and shrugged with a little smile. "You said you're a nurse. I reckon you'll be pullin' your own weight."

Well, he had a point there.

You got to work going through the closet and dresser of the house you had broken into earlier when a couple infected had heard you over at the Potter's house and chased you down the street. You were determined to work fast, just in case the men downstairs changed their minds and left you to fend for yourself. You weren't lying - you were capable, but you knew there was strength in numbers, and you had to sleep sometime.

"Tommy, no," Joel said firmly from his place against the kitchen counter. "We ain't takin' in strays."

"This ain't a dictatorship, Joel," Tommy whispered for your benefit. "You don't get the final say here. 'Sides, from the look of your goddamn face you were 'bout to check out an hour ago."

The brothers stared at one another silently, each one brewing in their respective anger before speaking again.

"She's a nurse," Tommy said, trying to soften his tone. "She'd be good to have 'round. She's all by herself, ain't got no family in Texas. She'll die out there all alone."

Joel swallowed and crossed his arms defensively over his chest, allowing his gaze to fall to the floor while he thought things over.

"Fine," he grumbled under his breath.

"Thank you," you said from the entrance of the kitchen, startling them both.

"Just better keep up," Joel said sternly before pushing himself off the counter, heading for the back door that led to Tommy's yard.

Tommy turned to appraise you with a nod. "Found some good stuff?"

You looked down at your outfit. The jeans were a little big, but the shirts and boots fit well enough.

"Yeah."

"Alright. Let's try 'n get some shut eye at my place. In the mornin', we'll come up with a plan."

You nodded and dutifully followed behind him, across both yards. You glanced at the fresh patch of dirt in his yard adorned with a tower of smooth rocks and quickly averted your gaze.

"You can sleep in the living room," Tommy said, gesturing towards the dark room past his kitchen. "My room's right down the hall. Bathroom, too."

You each glanced down the short hallway to see the bathroom door open, a soft glow from the overhead light pouring out into the hall. Tommy glanced around to make sure the curtains were still shut tight before pointing to the two couches, one a two seater, one a three.

"Joel's sleepin' out here too," he said quietly, "that alright? We got a spare room but-" he cut himself off and cleared his throat, giving himself a moment before speaking again. "Can't use that room. I'll, uh, explain 'nother time. Lemme get you some blankets."

He strolled down the hall and disappeared into his bedroom, leaving you standing at the junction between the hall and living room, unsure what to do. You wrapped your arms around yourself protectively and looked around, but then you heard a hiss coming from the bathroom followed by a curse.

You took the few steps towards the bathroom and glanced inside. Joel did leave the door open, after all. If he needed privacy he easily could have gotten it.

Joel was dabbing his cut with a soaked washcloth, squinting into the mirror while he did his best to clean it.

"Let me help you."

His eyes found yours in the mirror and you held his gaze for a long moment. He scanned your face silently with the washcloth still pressed to his cheek before he sighed and dropped it in the sink.

When he sat down on the closed toilet and looked at you expectantly, you took that to mean he was taking you up on your offer, so you stepped inside the room and got to work reviewing all the first aid supplies you had at your disposal.

After you gathered what you needed to clean the wound properly, you stood before him to get a better look at his cheek.

"Gunshot wound," you murmured as you began to clean it gentle with antiseptic.

"Yeah."

You frowned when you noticed the burnt skin close to his ear. Either someone had the muzzle pressed against his head, or...

You cleared your throat and changed the subject, falling back on your years of medical training and practice with bedside manner.

"What do you do, Joel?"

"I'm a contractor," he said, his eyes staring a hole in the side of your head while you worked.

"That sounds nice. Get to work outside. You probably don't have to worry about cardio, I'm sure a job like that keeps you moving."

He hummed in agreement and you got the impression he didn't want to talk anymore, so you fell quiet. As you were fixing his wound with butterfly bandages, Joel surprised you by speaking again.

"Kills my back, though."

You blinked and let your eyes shift to his briefly before focusing back on his cheek.

"I imagine it does," you said. He continued to watch you and when you were finishing up, he asked, "How long've you been a nurse?"

You crumpled up the garbage from the bandages and cotton balls, tossing them into the trash before straightening up.

"Uh, almost eight years, I think?" you said, then after giving it a moment, nodded. "Yeah. Eight years this December."

"You're good at it," Joel said when he stood to examine your work in the mirror. Then, surprising you again, said, "thank you."

"You're welcome."

Tommy appeared in the doorway with a pillow and spare blanket, already changed for the night into more comfortable clothes.

"I'll toss this stuff onto the smaller couch," he told you, then eyed up Joel's cheek. "Looks good," he said, pointing to his face before disappearing down the hall.

"I have a better kit over at the Potter's," you told Joel. "Maybe before we leave, I can go grab it. I'm sure we'll need it. There's stuff in there you can't just pick up anywhere."

"Yeah, alright," he replied, then gestured toward the door. You wandered back down the hallway and into the living room where Tommy had just set down your bedding.

"If you're hungry, help yourself to anythin' you can find. Guessin' it'll all go to waste soon."

"Thank you," you said with a smile. Tommy returned it and headed back down the hall to his bedroom, but not before wishing Joel good night with a clap on his shoulder as he walked by.

You were hungry but your stomach was churning so badly from the days events that you didn't dare try to keep anything down just yet, so instead you flicked out the blanket and settled underneath it with a deep sigh.

Joel watched you from the side of his eye while he fixed up his own makeshift bed on the other couch. After he slipped underneath the blanket, he stared up at the ceiling, listening to your breathing grow heavier and slower until he was sure you were asleep.

He should have been dead. That bullet shouldn't have missed. He should be mad at you for causing him to flinch, but somehow... he wasn't.

He couldn't save Sarah, but he saved you.

A/N: I'm toying with the idea of writing more if there's any interest but I'm not sure I can commit to another series just yet, however I'm feeling the itch to write post outbreak again. But let me know what you think ❤️

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

Delicious!!! 😍

GOING DOWN || 3,4 k

Joel Miller x f!reader | Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you have a hot boyfriend and a hot ex who’s still obsessed with you. Why not get the best of both worlds?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, darkish!reader, toxic!reader, boyfriend!Joel, ex who desperately wants you back!Frankie, soft!Frankie, infidelity (reader’s), praise kink, size kink, unprotected piv, creampie, handjob, m!oral, pussy eating, cum eating, f!masturbation, stalking (reader loves it), voyeurism, exhibitionism, swearing, dirty talk, pet names princesa-princess, mi amor- my love. Reader wears a dress. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I have no excuse for this one. I don’t know why I look at our baby Frankie and want to do all this. I’m not sorry though, it’s hot to me and also fictional😉 the title’s inspired by the song “I’m goin’ down” by Mary J. Blige and Frankie’s special talent😏 Happy Frankie Friday, my loves!💖

Written for @burntheedges ‘s roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was Exes. Thank you for the fun event, Kate❤️ Kisses to wonderful @milla-frenchy for beta-ing this filth😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more Frankie - The Hoodie

You are looking out of the window at the night street, illuminated by a few golden lights, when you feel Joel’s heavy hands on your hips and then his lips plant a kiss on your neck from behind.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mumbles, his gruff voice coated with lust.

“No, fuck me right here.”

He smiles against your neck.

“Really? Want the neighbors to see us, dirty girl?”

“Yeah. Neighbors,” you smirk, not tearing your eyes from the car parked outside your apartment building. Your ex’s Pickup.

Joel pierces you with his big stiff cock and before you start moaning like a whore, you open the window a little so you two can not only be visible, but also perfectly heard from the street. Cool autumn air hits your heated face and your nipples get hard under your thin dress.

"Oh yeah, Joel! Harder!" you cry out, reveling in the way he's dragging his huge manhood in and out your channel. You're taking it like a good girl-always wet and tight for your boyfriend's cock.

Your fingers swiftly pull down your neckline, exposing your bouncing tits to whoever might look through your window. And you're sure that someone is looking.

Not knowing about your sick game, Joel is grunting loudly, thrusting deep and hard into you, your back flush with his broad chest. He’s rubbing his stubble against your neck, then your cheek until you turn your face to him and your lips lock in a sloppy and passionate kiss, while he’s holding you close, drawing pleasure from your tight pussy.

Joel’s hand snakes under your dress and having found your naked cunt, begins swirling your clit between two thick fingers. You part from his mouth, whimpering loudly.

“Yeah, baby! Let ‘em hear what a slut you are for me. Getting fucked in front of the whole neighborhood.”

His words push you over the edge and you come on his cock, crying out from pleasure. You don’t fake it. There is no need. He is that good.

Joel follows you soon and shoots his thick warm cum into your pulsating core. When he stills and pulls out, you hastily fix your dress and grab your dog’s leash.

“I’ll walk Tom.” You kiss Joel with tongue and leave the apartment, leaking your boyfriend’s load with every move.

When you step out into the night, you walk along the street a few meters and tie your dog to a street pole. On your legs, trembling from the hard orgasm, you saunter to your ex’s truck.

The passenger door is already open for you when you reach it and you get in, feeling cold air lap at your pussy, coated in Joel’s cum.

A pair of beautiful kicked puppy eyes greet you there and you turn slightly in your seat to see your ex better in the dark car.

Frankie’s wearing a denim shirt, dark blue jeans and his favorite baseball cap that you always hated for hiding his gorgeous curls. He looks the same as the day you left him. Maybe the bags under his eyes are darker but it could be the poor lighting at fault.

“What are you doing here, Frankie?” Your voice is soft and calm, with a pinch of sadness thrown in for his sake.

The man nervously fixes his cap and glances at you from the side, like a guilty dog. He clears his throat and lies,

“ ‘m checking on you.”

His velvety voice caresses your ear, it’s soft like everything about his character. He starts chewing on his lip while his eyes are staring into the darkness ahead of him.

“No, you’re stalking me, baby. I see your Pickup everywhere I go. Near my work last week. I spotted you at the bar today. And now you’re here… spying on me through the window.”

He proves that he watched your little show when he spreads his thighs wider and bucks his hips, unwillingly attracting your attention to his big bulge. You both are quiet for a few moments.

“I miss you,” he finally admits, turning to you. His eyes are sad and sappy and you should feel sorry, bad or at least sympathetic but the overwhelming feeling in your heart is a triumph. He’s not over you. You’re the best he’s ever had and he desperately wants you back.

You’ve been feeling elated lately when you noticed Frankie stalking you. It’s been fun playing with him and you don’t plan on stopping. You pull your brows together and coo,

“I understand, baby, but you can’t keep coming here. Joel’s a jealous type. I don’t want any problems.”

While you’re talking, Frankie’s nodding along, eyes downcast. You place your hand on his shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. His own big paw flies to yours and after bringing it to his mouth, he presses his lips to your palm. Your heart flutters at his need for you and your pussy tingles when you remember the way his plush lips were leaving kisses all over your body weeks ago.

“Baby,” you breathe out and he looks at you, not letting go of your hand. You see tears in his eyes, not enough to spill but enough to fuel up your ego. His eyes are so pretty like that, wet lashes and glossy chocolatey irises.

“Aww, Frankie,” you coo and open your arms to him. He rushes to you as if you’re his lifeline, wrapping his big strong arms around your torso and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re hugging him back, trying not to suffocate in his steel embrace and rubbing his muscular broad back. Frankie’s as big as Joel, both are much bigger than you, and warmth spreads deep in your core when his scent envelops you just like his body.

You smile when you notice him still wearing your favorite cologne.

Soon your body craves something more than just a hug so your lips part and a soft whimper escapes your mouth. You know well that your pretty noises always make him wild.

Your ex reacts immediately and you feel an open mouth kiss on your neck.

“Frankie.” Your tone is scolding yet fake and you sigh deeply, brushing his chest with your barely covered breasts. Your ex grumbles at the sensation and then whispers, his voice already strained with lust.

“I miss you so much.”

You hug him tighter and feel his hot breath on your cleavage when he leans lower to plant another kiss on your collarbone. His cap slides off his head and falls on the floor but he doesn’t care. Looking down at his beautiful dark curls you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails and Frankie almost roars against your chest. His arms pull you closer to him, even though your torso is already flush with his. He slightly lifts you off the seat and you tug at his hair in warning, steel in your tone.

“Put me down, Frankie.”

He listens to you like he always does but your roughness earns another loud groan from him. You smile, imagining how hard his cock must be now.

Frankie leaves soft kisses on your clothed chest, your belly and soon his head is resting on your lap, while his arms are wrapped around your hips as if he’s scared you’ll float away.

You’re stroking his head, marveling at the silky waves of his hair, shining even in the dim light, and slightly tilt your hips up when his prominent nose pokes your mound through the thin fabric of your dress. As if thinking about the same thing, Frankie breathes in full lungs of your arousal and a guttural moan vibrates against your covered pussy.

“I miss her, mi amor,” you barely hear him mumble and you sigh. Recently satiated by Joels’s pounding, your core gets reignited with sticky desire and you bite your lip, your dark gaze sliding over his sexy shoulders and his head, with his face hidden. You part your legs just slightly, letting him closer to your needy pussy.

Like a dog sniffing out his favorite treat, Frankie’s nuzzling your lap, and his lips and nose are brushing against your tights, your lower belly, your cunt through the fabric.

You gasp when his fingers dig into your soft hips a bit too hard and he hastily relaxes his grip and looks up at you.

“Sorry, princesa.” His blown out eyes are filled with guilt and want and you give him a smile, cupping his scruffy cheek.

“It’s ok, baby, just be careful with me, ‘k? No marks.”

“Yes, yes, of course, mi amor,” he murmurs, returning his head back onto your lap.

After a couple of minutes in his arms, the fire in your core morphs into an ache and you squirm under him with impatience.

“I should go, Frankie. Joel’s gonna worry.”

“No, please,” he almost whines, hugging you tighter. “I—,” he stumbles.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I —? Can I see her?”

He’s staring up at you and you tilt your head to the side, faking confusion.

“Who?”

He knows that you understand but you need him to say it. So he plays by your rules. Like he always does.

“Can I see your beautiful pussy?” He sits up, facing you, his huge body squeezed in between the wheel and his seat. His bulge looks even more prominent now and you gush at the thought that he must be leaking into his boxers.

“Oh, Frankie, baby, you know I have a boyfriend. I can’t.”

His pleading eyes are fixed on you as he begs,

“Please, mi amor, just a look. I miss her so much. I miss you. Please.”

With another fake sigh you glance out of the window to check the surroundings, and after finding the street empty, you turn back to him.

“Ok, just for a second. Get in the back.”

“Thank you, mi amor,” he mumbles, hurrying out of the truck.

You squeeze between the front seats and sit down, turning to Frankie as he joins you at the back of the car. Your ex impatiently grabs the hem of your dress but you stop him.

“No one should know about this, understand?”

Frankie nods eagerly, mumbling yes’s like a junkie before getting a hit of his drug and you let him lift your dress and expose your naked pussy.

Your hands clutch the dress against your waist, and your legs are pressed together but it’s evident how wet you’re - your folds shine with Joel’s cum and your slick arousal.

Frankie’s breath hitches and his broad chest expands, straining his shirt.

“Beautiful,” he praises as his hand flies to the apex of your thighs.

“Nah-ah”, you grab his big paw midair and place it on top of your thigh.

“No touching. You wanted to look, right?”

“Yeah,” Frankie halfheartedly agrees, furrowed brows showing his discontent. “Then at least open your legs, princesa. Need to see her better.”

You try to contain your excitement as you tut at your ex,

“You’re so naughty, baby.”

You slowly part your thighs wide enough for your pussy to bloom in front of his hungry eyes.

Frankie’s mouth goes slack and his gaze clouds up when he sees your glistening pussy lips, puffy clit and your inviting hole. You shift a little on the seat, leaving wetness on the leather, and when you clench your walls in anticipation, you both see a little bit of pearly white liquid slide out of your entrance.

“Is this…?” Frankie mumbles, not tearing his eyes off your recently used cunt.

“Yeah. I know you’ve been watching Joel fuck me so don’t pretend that you’re surprised. My pussy’s full of his cum,” you say with defiance and wait for his reaction.

Frankie’s softly growls and his hand on your thigh contracts into a fist.

“Shhh, big boy,” you purr, bringing your fingers to your pussy. You gather some of Joel’s seed, leaking from your hole, and spread the creamy juices over your hardened clit. You rub yourself a few times and when a soft moan escapes your lips, Frankie echoes you.

“Feels so good,” you admit and begin pleasuring yourself in front of your ex.

“Jesus— fuck,” Frankie mumbles. His eyes are obsidian, forehead glistening with sweat with a few wet curls stuck to it. With his gaze tormented and pained, he reaches down to his belt.

“What are you doing, baby?” you ask, pausing your ministrations.

Frankie freezes and replies, stumbling over his words,

“I need — need to take my dick out. It hurts.”

“Ok, Frankie.” He hastily unzips his jeans when you add, “But don’t touch it.”

Frankie groans but then sighs with relief when he pulls the waistband of his boxers down, tucks it under his balls and his cock springs free. It hits his shirt and leaves a dark wet spot.

His member is throbbing, the dark pink tip, glossy and fat, is oozing his clear need for you and you lick your lips, enticing the man even more.

Frankie follows your orders and lets his cock bob and drip pre-fuck juice all over his balls and jeans while you moan again, tracing your sopping hole.

Your ex rubs his cheek, focused on the place he desperately wants to claim with his tongue and cock and croaks after wetting his plush lips,

“Let me kiss her, mi amor.”

Bingo.

That’s what you wanted as soon as you saw him at the bar today. If you cared to admit maybe you already dreamed about it when you noticed him stalking you last week. But what’s a prize without a game? Now it feels extra special.

With a little smile, you throw off your shoe and plant your bare foot on the seat, opening your thighs wider for him.

“You gonna taste another man’s cum on my pussy? just to kiss her?”

Frankie’s eyes snap up to yours and you see his defeat, his despair, his love in their depths.

He nods silently.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” you coo. “Ok, baby, go ahead.”

With a grunt Frankie bends down, slowly adjusting his position between your legs so it’s comfortable for you, and when his soft warm lips kiss your cold cunt, you flutter your eyes shut with a pleased mewl.

Frankie’s always been the best at pussy eating. Joel often goes down on you but it’s different. He demands your ecstasy, claims your pussy with his mouth, makes you scream when his rough tongue impatiently rubs at your clit. His movements say ‘Give me’ while he’s eating you out.

But Frankie. He’s whispering “Take it”. Take your time, take your bliss, take my lips and tongue and use them, let yourself drown in pleasure. He laps at you softly and languidly, licking your pussy like it’s the most delicate flower, the most delicious fruit.

You grab your phone out of your pocket and text Joel that you met a friend by accident and need to catch up.

Frankie doesn’t see any of it, he’s gone, fully concentrated on pleasuring your soft cunt. His hands are gently holding your thighs apart, his face buried in your pussy.

“How’s she?” you whisper, raking your fingers through his silky curls and tugging on them slightly to get his attention when he doesn’t respond right away.

“I taste him on you,” Frankie grumbles, parting from your sex, “‘m gonna get it off you.”

He returns to work, making out with your folds and sucking the other man’s cum off your clit and you already feel yourself close to unraveling.

“Yes, like that, baby. My pussy misses you.”

You feel Frankie smile against your cunt before he begins stroking your clit with his tongue again and again until you cry out his name into your hand, while your hole clamps around nothing, walls contract and release another portion of Joel’s thick load.

Trembling from the orgasm that’s rippling through your body, you watch Frankie lap at your entrance, drinking the runaway seed and your slick, prolonging your shattering climax with this depraved act.

He doesn’t stop kissing your pussy until you get overstimulated and try to close your legs.

“Did so good for me, Frankie,” you murmur through heavy breaths.

“Thank you, mi amor,” your ex gruffs, sitting up, his face blushed, the gaze hazy and drunk on you.

He’s shivering from the arousal, his engorged cock generously leaking precum, and you take mercy on the man.

You scoot closer to him, wrap your hand around his hot cock and start slowly pumping it. It’s soaked with his juices so your palm slides easily over his hard length but to make him absolutely wild you gather some slick off your cunt and rub the underside of his cock where his tip meets the shaft with your wet thumb.

Frankie moans like a needy slut and in a second the first rope of cum shoots out of his slit.

You hastily lower your head, take the head between your lips and start drinking his load as he’s feeding it to you, jerking and thrusting his hips up, while your hand is gliding over his shaft.

You swallow everything to the last drop and lick it all over, cleaning his cock and earning a jerk of overstimulation from your ex. Then you sit up, wiping your mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

“Fuck, princesa, I love you,” Frankie breathes out falling onto the backrest, his cock softening but still standing at attention. You smile at his confession and your hunger finally seems satisfied.

You begin fixing your clothes and he watches you for a few seconds before tucking his cock into his jeans and then shifting closer to you. He gets into your space and you feel his warm hand pressed to your lower back. His huge frame is looming over you and you look up into his chocolaty eyes. They seem sad again.

“I want you back, mi amor—I... I need you.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head, taking his big hand in yours.

“You know it’s over, Frankie. I’m sorry, but I’m with Joel now.”

“Why? Why can’t you be with me? Why is he better?” He asks, furrowing his brows and leaning even closer to you.

“Baby,” you whine, averting your gaze from his puppy eyes and tracing hearts on his hand. “We talked about it. He’s …he’s like whiskey, he’s rough and heady and… you’re like hot chocolate, Frankie. You’re sweet but you’re too saccharine for me.”

“I can get rough with you, princesa.”

You giggle and shake your head.

“It’s not who you are, baby. And it’s ok. Someone will love you for it one day.”

You hear him sniff before he yanks his hand away from yours.

You know you should leave, break it off once and for all but the sick, mean, greedy side of your soul wants to pull him back as soon as you have pushed him away.

“Frankie,” you purr and grab his arm as he’s about to get out of the car. A slight touch from you is all it takes to stop him and he turns to you, his eyes glossy, his expression defeated.

You get closer to him and take his face between your hands. To kiss him goodbye. To poison him more.

He falls into the kiss head first, embracing you tightly, pressing his torso to yours so close it’s difficult to breathe.

You both moan against each other’s lips and you pull on his hair with passion and possessiveness. His tongue is licking into your mouth and you’re tasting yourself, sensing a faint trace of Joel’s cum. It’s so sick and twisted that another surge of arousal burns your core.

You make out for some time until you part from his lips.

“I should go, Frankie,” you whisper, snaking out of his embrace.

Frankie’s arms fall and he nods, looking lost and inebriated. You use this moment to hastily get out of his car.

“Bye, baby,” you chirp, smiling at him, but before you close the door he wakes up from the trance and calls for you.

“I won’t stop, mi amor,” he admits with determination in his shaky voice. “I’m gonna keep coming. I need you.”

“I know,” you say with a fake sigh and close the door.

You’re walking to get Tom, feeling Frankie’s eyes on your back, and trying to calm down, you bite your lip, but the excitement overwhelms you and soon a triumphant smile spreads across your face.

Thank you for reading!💖

MASTERLIST || more Frankie- The Hoodie

tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

Tagging lovelies who showed interest in my Wip post @sawymredfox @604to647 @thundermartini @bonezone44 @casa-boiardi

Thank you Shortie for hosting this fun writing challenge! Without your challenge I would’ve never delved into darker Dave territory! 🥰

Thank you to everyone who participated in my writing challenge and reblogged/liked/commented on any of the works listed below!

➤ I will keep updating this list as more entries post

Joel Miller:

• Vacay Lover - Yacht Captain AU - @josephquinnswhore

• Come Fly with Me - Pilot AU - @punkshort

• Physical Therapy - Lifeguard AU - @eff4freddie

Javier Peña: coming soon

Frankie Morales:

• Love in Hawaii - Tour Guide AU - @natasharomanoffsmotorcycle

• Water Cooler Courting - coworker AU - @crowandmousewritingco

• Hiding Place - best friend AU - @libraryofneith

Dave York:

• The Prenup - Divorce Lawyer AU - @yxtkiwiyxt

• Lies, Excuses and Bullshit - Ex Boyfriend AU - @bitchesuntitled

• Doctor's Pet - Doctor AU - @evolnoomym

• Don't Move - Bodyguard AU - @almostfoxglove

Dieter Bravo:

• Dieter's Sky High Brownie Delights - Chef AU - @pedges-world

• Bittersweet Love - Childhood Friend AU - @ozarkthedog

• Golden Girl - husband's best friend AU - @whocaresstillthelouvre

Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels:

• Sing for you Forever - Musician AU - @yopossum

• Forever - Groomsman AU - @morallyinept

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Fuck this whole week.

😭😭😭

I wish to lay in bed, read and do cricket feet.

This was absolutely beautiful!

Grown

AN: I am sort of going through a writing bender? A manic episode? I don't know, I just know that if I don't get it down I will lose my mind. I have been wanting to write an age-gap fic for Joel (aside from LMF) for a while but I couldn't really find the format or the idea that I could sink my teeth into. There are SO MANY good ones out there, I even had a whole other thing started but it got too intense, and making it sexual wouldn't have been true to that version of Joel, so here is what I came up with. Big thank you to @foli-vora for letting me exorcise this demon, and to @frannyzooey for putting up with my endless messages and voice notes through discord, love y'all! (this is unbeta'd and barely proofread, any and all mistakes are mine)

Joel Miller x F!reader (sex worker)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), fingering, cream pie, one lonely little lick of his cock👅, come play sort of? dirty talk, age gap (legal), feelings of guilt, talk of sex work, some of it traumatic (no details, no violence)

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist 

He was a risk, calculated but definitely worth it up close. He fidgeted, flexing and unflexing his hands as you moved around the tiny studio apartment. Your home, and ‘office’. You’d searched long and hard, and paid a hefty price for the soft lamps, the newish linens for your bed, the homey touches.

He shifted his weight as you put the quilt down, separating the outside world from the privacy of your sheets. Easier to clean up after too. 

“Boots off, please.” You gesture to the place by the door, and he nodded with a frown. 

“Sorry.” He groaned as he brought his foot up and for a moment you saw his age, through the pleasant features. 

“No problem, how do you want me?” You stand at the foot of the bed, naked under the well-worn, but cherished robe and for a moment he gawps. You don’t laugh, men don’t like it when you laugh. “On my back?” 

“Wait- how old are you again?” He pads over, tall and broad, obscuring the light source when he walks past it. 

“Old enough.” You smile, “come, why don’t you sit here with me?” You hold out your hand to him, and after a tense glance, he takes it and sits where you gesture. His grip is firm, but soft, years of hard work rooted in the calluses that meet your significantly softer palm. It isn’t a turn off though, he’s a man, men work hard. The real ones do, or did anyway.

“How long do I have? S’there anyone else…?” He trails off, his voice cutting off and you smile, placating. 

“You have as long as you need, tonight's all yours.” You sit beside him, and put your hand tentatively on his arm, channeling every single ounce of calm you have and pouring it into him. He’s warm and alive beside you, heat radiating off him under the soft pass of your thumb against the skin peeking out under the denim sleeve, you let the soft light, the light patter of rain outside your window work on him. He surveys the area, learning the layout of your space and you don’t interfere, you follow his gaze and try to see it all from his point of view. 

It's small, but comfortable. It’s exceedingly clean, you’d spent hours and hours making sure, back breaking hours on your hands and knees scrubbing and washing and it had paid off, no matter how sore you’d been after. There’s a little table, with two chairs, a big lumpy chair near the window, where you spent most of your time not working curled up with one of your precious books. He noticed the tiny chest of drawers, the top of it clear except for a half-full glass of water. He saw the baseball bat leaning against the wall tucked just behind it. 

“Can I get a little closer?” You scoot a little, pressing your thigh to his, turning to hold his restless arm between your breasts, your fingers intertwining with his while he got accustomed to your own warmth. Those big, callused, hard-working hands wrapped up in yours. Invitingly warm.

Some people needed a little push, sometimes they were nervous on how to start and they needed someone to get them out of their heads. Some wanted to talk, to sprawl out naked with you and get all of their thoughts out. 

Loneliness is the main malady you alleviate. 

Some didn’t want to talk at all, some just wanted you to open your legs and take, and that was okay too. Everyone had their thing. 

“This okay?” You put your linked palms on the little bit of skin poking out through the gap in your robe, your skin surrounding both sides of his hand. 

“Yeah, s’okay.” He watches the robe slip open, and his other hand joins the fray, pulling it apart to see more of your thigh. He licks his lip as more of you is revealed and you artfully let the shoulder slip, drawing his eye up to your cleavage. He pats his leg, and you get a genuine thrill, sliding over and up onto his lap. He needed no further guidance after that, now that he had permission, his body was taking over. 

His eyes were dark, focused, tracking the line of your throat when you swallowed thickly. He watched the way your breath hitched when he slid his hand up your inner thigh and found you bare underneath, his fingers slipping through the silky hair at your mound, his fingers parting your lips softly to find your slick folds. He lets out a shuddering breath at the same time you do, when his finger slips over your clit. 

“I’m too old for you, pretty.” He watches his hand between your legs, using it to spread your thighs enough to see your pussy dripping for him. 

“You don’t feel too old.” You hold onto his neck, giving him more access and your stomach drops to feel him hardening under the swell of your ass. You pull his hand from between your legs, and dip his fingers into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around them before pressing them back against your achy clit. He pulls a genuine moan of pleasure at the extra slip when he swirls around your clit nice and slow. Tortuous, and talented.

“So fuckin’ soft,” He glides his fingers down, circling your entrance but his eyes are focused on your mouth now, “bet you’re tight as a fist, aren’t you baby?” He slides two thick fingers inside and you clutch at him, more turned on by him than you’ve ever been doing this line of work.

It’s a stretch, but he works them in, pressing against your upper wall, looking for something and when he finds it you whimper in his arms. 

“Do you kiss?” You barely hear him over the blood pounding in your ears, his fingers curling inside you, and he puts more pressure on the button he’s found and you moan, lost and mindlessly enjoying the fullness. 

He presses devastatingly soft, tender kisses to your throat, completely at odds with the wet sounds of his exploration between your legs. 

“Baby, can we kiss?” He repeats it, this time with his fingers still, but stuffed deep. You press your mouth to his, humid and hot and he tastes like the good alcohol you have stashed in your cupboard. He groans and his fingers scissor inside you, squelching between your legs with every lazy pump. He traps your bottom lip between his, alternating a teasing bite to the plump of it, with deep licks into your mouth. You’ve never been kissed like this. 

“You just gonna use your fingers?” He pulls away to skim his nose down your neck, bunching the top of the robe in the splayed hand at your back to pull it down from where it hangs on your shoulder. His mouth engulfs your nipple when it falls and any thoughts that he may be too old for you seem to slip his mind because he doubles down, moaning obscenely into your skin as you leak onto his lap. 

“No, just wanna open you up, I wanna make sure this little pussy can take me.” Arousal and excitement pools in your belly. 

“What a gentleman.” You laugh, half crazed with lust for this man who just might be old enough to be your father. He smiles, drunk on the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his spit still shining on your breast. He has a dimple, so boyish in contrast to the grey in his beard and in his hair you can’t help but love it, it suits him.

“Spread your legs a little more for me darlin’,” one hand is heavy on your hip, holding you so you can drop one leg and open up a little more, “I wanna see you come,” he speeds up, his thumb now doing tight little circles against your clit and you moan, unabashedly, “look how wet she is,” he stares between your legs “I just wanna see her come.” He hooks his fingers again and the pressure is almost too much. It only takes a few moments, his fingers pet, pet, pet and then you clench, the pleasure going off in your belly like a bomb, radiating out through your breasts, into your hips, all the way down to your fingers and toes. 

A universe contained within your body, borne of his hand.

“Fuck.” Your legs close over his hand, and he slows down but doesn’t stop, a softer, slower stroke while you catch your breath. “Let's get you outta these clothes.” you start undoing the buttons to his shirt, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the smattering of freckles littered along his skin. He pulls his fingers out from between your legs, shiny and dripping in you and sticks them into his mouth, moaning at the tang of you. 

Undressing him is like opening a gift. His arms are strong, his biceps flexing when he all but lifts you up to stand, pulling your robe off and away from you like it’s on fire. His midsection is soft, but you can feel the strength underneath when you undo his jeans, tensing in excitement the closer you get to the considerable bulge in them. You curl your fingers around both his jeans, and his boxers, impatient to get him naked. You crouch as you pull them down, mouth watering at the size of him, hard and bobbing in front of you. The muscles in his thighs are firm, his skin so warm and you can’t help but lick a stripe up the underside of his cock on the way back up. 

He lets out a sound like he's been punched in the gut and you take it in like sustenance. 

“Don’t–I’ll come too fast if you put it in your mouth.”

You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, just as he reaches down to grab and spread the cheeks of your ass, stomach full of butterflies at the feeling of him hard and leaking against your belly. 

“But I wanna swallow it, I wanna feel it in my throat.” You pout and he lets out a shuddering breath, “Don’t you wanna fuck my mouth?” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat, your fingers slipping through the unruly, grey strands at the back of his neck. 

“Not now baby, I’m barely goin' to last as it is.” He turns you, pressing you to lay in the middle of your quilt and he’s quick to follow, fitting himself between your legs, leaning on one arm beside your skull and when he grabs his cock and gives it a few strokes, you almost can’t watch him. It’s too erotic, it looks so big in his hand, too big to fit but you know it will, he’ll make it fit. 

“Jesus Christ,” He whispers as he feeds himself inside you slowly, an inch, before pulling it out, then a little more, until he’s fucking you a little deeper each time. 

There wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs, he took up every fucking drop. You’d been with other men, you’d been with women, all of them taking their pleasure from your body and most of them giving pleasure in return, this was something else. This was almost scary, the way the vision of him above you made your brain buzz and your nipples hard, made your cunt leak all over him. 

He moves up onto his knees, those big hands pull your legs up and apart, pressing the backs of your thighs into your chest, practically folding you in half to slide his cock deeper still.

He snapped his hips hard, pulling a sound you’d never made out of your mouth, again, and again, until it was a continuous babble. He watches the way his cock disappears inside the tight clutch of your cunt with every dirty roll of his hips. He sinks a little further down, and adjusts his stroke, until just the tip of it stays inside of every heavy push forward. 

This isn’t some desperate, lonely old guy looking to get his dick wet, this is a grown man, fucking you like a grown man does and you feel like a grown woman taking it. 

“Joel, baby that’s so fucking good-“ you press your hands to his chest where he leans against you. He’s focused, eyes glazed over, sweat dripping down his nose in his efforts. He shuts his eyes tight for a moment, his pace stuttering slightly and you know he’s not gonna last.

“I wanna see her come with me inside,” he whines, and you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing so you reach down and swirl your fingers around your clit while he watches, “that’s it baby, that’s it, fuck, I’m close-“ he somehow spreads you wider, the wet suck of your pussy is louder, more obscene, more erotic. 

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-“ the orgasm strangles the words in your throat, pulsing him out but he pushes back in and you feel it all the way in your toes. 

“Fuuuuuckkk—“ he pulls out and pumps himself furiously against your mound, covering the soft patch of hair in spurt after milky spurt. It’s a lot, some has splashed onto your hip, your belly, you feel it slipping down to where you clench, empty and gaping without him filling you. 

It’s quiet for a moment after, while your blood cools, and he milks himself dry, pumping a few more times despite the over-sensitivity. 

“You got anything for me to clean you up with?” He rubs at the indents he left on the back of your thighs before unfolding you. 

“There’s a little pile of rags in that first drawer behind you.” You point to the tiny chest of drawers, and he groans when he moves up and off of you. Now that he’s emptied his balls, the signs of his age rear their heads. He groans, wincing as he bends forward to carefully wipe everything away with gentle hands. 

It’s nice to see him walk around naked, welcome, you wouldn’t mind seeing it more often, if he came back that was. 

“That was-“ he scratches at the back of his neck, passing the cloth over your belly, “that was really good.”

“I’ll say, it was better than good.” You stretch out and luxuriate like a cat in warm patch of sun, seriously debating offering him time to recover so he could fuck you again. He quirks his lip, the ghost of a smile, the confidence dulled to shy, awkward fumbling. He tosses the rag into the little basket you point to, and he begins the process of getting dressed. You get up when he’s almost done, your thighs, and what’s between already sore and pick up your robe. He’s putting his neat little stack of ration cards on the table when you finish tying it up. 

“Thanks.” He pulls his boots on, opening your door before turning back to find you right on his heels. 

“Anytime.” You smile at him, hoping it won’t be a one-time thing. He moves to step outside but you pull him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking something for your own. He kisses you back when you press your mouth to his, it's softer, his tongue sweet when it tangles with yours and you smile into the kiss when he reaches down, and grabs your ass. 

“Bye, Pretty.”

“Bye Joel.”

-

You hadn't fallen into the work, so much as slowly slid into it. The first time had been almost a dare, a challenge to yourself, a proposition made by someone and maybe your own foolish, naive need to prove that you weren’t some stupid baby. A man, an older man that had shared cleaning duty with you had come right out with it, saw you bending over to pick something off the floor and told you that he’d pay every ration card he had for a taste of that ass, as he so eloquently put it. 

At first you’d been shocked, he seemed like a perfectly bland, run of the mill survivor making his way in the QZ, but he’d been serious. You’d asked him to clarify, to repeat his words, and he had. He’d shaken his hands of the dirt and dust of the job, produced a tiny stack of much needed ration cards from a hidden pocket and held them out for you like a cold glass of water in the desert. Something inside you had recoiled, he wasn’t repulsive, but he wasn’t exactly the object of your late night fantasies. Another part though, a hidden little sliver of something jumped at the chance to have some power, some semblance of control and so without much thought to consequence, you’d taken him up on it. 

An uncomfortable fifteen minutes later, he was grunting behind you, stroking himself furiously to paint the cheeks of your ass in his come. 

Once it was done, the little part of you that had welcomed the challenge was curiously absent, and the part that had recoiled was bigger, swelling like some awful, infected limb. But you had rations enough to stop working for a few days, and that took some of the repulsion away. 

It was a while before you did it again. It was a while before you saw the man again, maybe part of you, that ever-present bit of self-preservation urged you to avoid him but he eventually found you again. This time you turned him down, and he hadn’t pressed, but he’d told others. Other men who seemed to sniff you out, some of them older, and less diplomatic and those you told to fuck off. Some of the younger ones though, closer to your age looking for the experience, some of them you took in, with the strict promise to never tell anyone unless they wanted to never see you again. Those experiences were better, less traumatic. 

After that it seemed like things came together, you had a steady string of people who took you seriously and paid up front. 

The first woman had been a girl of around your age, she’d heard from a friend of a friend, carefully and strategically keeping the source to herself. You’d never really given it much thought but once you did it seemed only natural, women got lonely too, and there was nothing about her that you didn’t understand. So you accepted her, took her rations and gave her as much of yourself as you gave the men. 

It’d taken time to establish yourself, to find the regular people you let into the circle, it was all much easier now. With the exception of Joel, you hadn’t taken on someone new in a while, but he made you glad you did.

-

His hands always shake before it starts. 

It’s a light tremble, a couple of fingers in his left hand and you aren’t entirely sure if it’s an injury, or a sign of nerves. He’s hard of hearing in one ear too, his right. You hadn't picked up on it at first but once you do, it makes sense. He tilts his head to the right a tiny bit, turning his good ear towards your mouth. It doesn’t bother you. 

He was older than the rest, that did bother him, but never enough to stop visiting. He dragged it out sometimes, made himself wait, avoided you, but whether it took him a week or a month, he came back. 

“Hi Joel.” You smiled to see him standing at the threshold, fingers twitching by his side, his hair a mess, a small bundle in his grip.

“Hi.” He doesn’t smile back, he’d waited too long, the frown practically tattooed on. He puts the bundle down on the dresser after kicking off his boots, and doesn’t mention it. 

It’s dark outside, later than you usually let anyone come see you but for him you make exceptions. His hands keep rubbing at his thighs, his eyes darting around, you let him settle for a moment, get his bearings before jumping into anything, it’s a dance and you both have your steps. 

“How do you want me?” You finally break the silence once he sits on the quilt. He looks up at you, but doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fall to your cleavage, then down to your waist where the robe is cinched, then further still to your hips. You move closer, until you stand between his spread thighs. 

“Hm? Wanna fuck me on my back? Or should I get on my hands and knees?” You thread your fingers through his hair, slicking it back as best you can, he shudders at your words and at the feeling of your hands on him, putting up his usual show of shame at being here with you, at being older. “Should I get on my knees right here and suck your cock?” His hands land on your hips, his face pressing against your sternum, robe parting enough for him to press his lips to the valley between your breasts.

“You’re too fuckin’ soft, way too fuckin’ pretty to be lettin’ me touch you.” He always does this, has to make it known that you shouldn’t let him do this, that he shouldn’t want you like this. It never stops him, he opens the robe and pushes it off to fall on the floor regardless of his words and moans into the skin of your breast where he nuzzles like a cat.

“Prettiest thing I ever saw.” His mouth laves at one pert nipple, then the other, leaving them hard and shiny when he trails his kisses down to your belly. 

All day you’ve thought about him here, getting to have him to yourself, opening you up and molding you to fit him like a glove, making you see stars like he always does. And all day you’ve felt that slow simmer of arousal, that steady ache to bloom and gape for him, both soft and obscene. The constant excitement of anticipation. His mouth on your nipples only served to turn it up to an inferno, turning you to liquid for him. 

“But I like when you touch me.” You scratch at his scalp, pressing his face into your skin, “I like it when you fuck me, you make it so good, much better than anyone else.” You flatter him, but you don’t lie to him. You’ve learned to be impartial to your experiences, sex is work. As fun as it can be with some of them, it’s all a means to an end, you need to eat and so you do what you have to do. You are also realistic about him, he is not your boyfriend, he’s not your partner, he barely gives you a second glance on the street but in here, he’s your favourite. He fits you better than anyone and anything, and as much as you hate to admit it, you need him as much as he needs you.

He takes in the words, believes them and relishes them. 

“How do you want me, Joel?” You pull his face up, bending down to kiss him before he can answer and his desperation comes through. His tongue is insistent, his kiss almost violent. 

“I want you here-“ he pats the bed, before getting up to take his clothes off. You help him, both of you working efficiently until he’s as naked as you are. His cock is already hard, the tip of him pearly with his own want despite any and all notions of impropriety. 

His body always betrays him. 

He gets you on your back, but he doesn’t lay on top of you, rather beside you. He doesn’t let you turn to face him, he wants it like this, his body curling around yours to be able to see it spread out for him without himself in the way. 

“Open up for me, s’good, just like that.” He takes the thigh closest to him and drapes it over his hip, positioning himself to enter you from underneath. He lifts his head, showcasing his core strength to watch as he brings his cock to the open mouth of your cunt, sliding in without so much as a warning. You feel exposed, spread open and bare under his eye and it only heightens the experience, cracking something open inside of you. 

His hips push and pull slowly, lazily at first despite how fucking hard he is but doesn’t last. The sight in front of you there, breasts bouncing with every snap, is too much for him. With one hand free, he strums and plucks at your nipples, opening up the dam between your thighs to ruin the quilt underneath. 

His other hand isn’t idle though, it slips down, grabbing onto the plush of your ass, holding you in place hard enough to bruise. 

“That feel good?” He watches you leak all over him, and knows it does but he wants to hear it anyway. 

“Yes- Yes Joel–” You moan, turning to watch his face. 

“This little cunt goin' to come for me? I wanna see her come, I wanna feel her choke my dick.” He surges forward, swallowing the moan from the source before speeding up. His cock strokes, strokes, strokes and you feel the warmth blooming in your core, spreading like a wildfire through your hips, the release so close you can almost taste it, you whine and he shushes you, his voice soft despite how depraved you feel with his cock kissing something sacred inside of you. 

You roll your hips to meet his thrusts and sweat builds in your hairline and at the back of your neck, collects and slips where your skin and his meet.

“I know baby, I know, I can feel her, she wants to come doesn’t she?” His lips press against your cheek, his words warm against your skin. His lips are so soft, so plush as he pants into your face, goosebumps cover your body. You nod against him, mouth open in a silent scream when he adjusts his angle slightly. 

He’s no longer able to form complete sentences, his words are reduced to a repeated chant of yeah baby, yeah baby, right there, right there huh? Barely formed questions for the answer you know he already knows and then his fingers are in your mouth, stretching out your lips, holding your mouth open in a filthy, yet pale imitation of what his cock is doing.

You drool, and you don’t care but it’s what he wants, he takes it from your mouth and slides it over your clit and it’s like he’s pressed the nuclear codes in your body. 

You want to curl into yourself, but you can’t, his grip tightens, painfully, holding you to take and take and take his cock until he bursts inside you like a ripe berry. His groan is almost more obscene than the act, his groin pressed up against you tight, pressing himself deeper than ever to paint your cervix in his come. 

“Fuck–” He presses the word to your cheek, sliding his sweat soaked face down your neck, to your shoulder. He pulls out after a moment, and you feel him leak out of you. He moves to hover over you, pulling one nipple into his mouth to taste before the blood has cooled, and then the other. He isn;t done yet though, he kneels between your spread legs, inspecting the mess he’s made of your pussy, a self satisfied look on his face. 

“Gonna dream about this, while I’m gone.” He lifts your legs, pressing them up and open and slips two fingers deep inside to push his come back in and as you moan at the act, you cannot help but wonder where that worried, too-old Joel is right now. 

“Prettiest little cunt.” He says it to himself, rubbing his mess into the sensitive walls of your sex like a balm. 

He licks his fingers after, tasting the combined flavours of both of you. Your heart almost can’t take it. 

Once he’s dressed, and you have gained enough strength to get up and put your robe on he’s almost back to his shy self. 

“I have the rations here, but I brought somethin’ else.” He gestures to the little bundle he’d left on your dresser, “I found it, thought you might like it.” He opens it, and it’s a can of peaches. 

“Oh!” You’re genuinely taken aback. 

“You ain’t allergic right?” He frowns, and you smile, something soft spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the sex you just had.

“No, I’m not allergic. Thank you Joel, I am really excited for this.” You ignore the soreness between your legs and close the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips in thanks. 

“Well alright then.” He frowns again, and it’s not shyness you see on his face now, it’s awkwardness, it’s a man who doesn’t know how to be soft, but is trying his hardest. 

“Bye Pretty.” He lingers at the door, devouring you with his eyes and even though he was still dripping out of you, you felt naked and exposed, open and spread out for his gaze. 

“Bye Joel, don’t wait too long to come see me again okay?” You press yourself against him, the soft lines of you tucked tight against the hard angles of him. He gifts you with a rare smile but doesn’t respond, save for a toe curling kiss at your threshold before he’s gone. 

Hours later, when your body is truly sore and spent, you lay in bed with a book, eating the peaches he brought, and wonder idly what he’ll bring next time. 

-

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