Why Is Chameleon Tai Lung Kinda Hot In The Kung Fu Panda 4 Trailer? Am I The Only One??

Why is Chameleon Tai Lung kinda hot in the Kung Fu Panda 4 trailer? Am I the only one??

I'm foaming at the mouth barking. I can't wait to see Joel's Pov

title: my tears ricochet | part i

pairing: husband's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: chapter - t; full work - explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 7k

summary: after moving from new york to texas with your fiance, you expect to jump right into wedding planning with his help. when he claims to be too busy, he suggests asking his best friend, joel miller, to help you instead.

you weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

author's note: this story is a three part fic inspired by the song "my tears ricochet" by taylor swift. this first part is reader's POV, part two will be joel's POV, and the third part will be dual POV. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

chapter tags: modern au, infidelity, emotional abuse, the fiance is shitty, no use of y/n, single POV (reader), wedding dress shopping and other wedding planning activities, angst, arguing, alcohol consumption/mention, kissing, no smut. please let me know if i've missed any!

major work tags: modern au, infidelity, explicit sexual content, character death

You stare out at the manicured yard, watching as guests move about the grounds and waiters in black uniforms carry trays of food and drinks through the crowd. Your boyfriend -- wait, no, fiancé -- Alex laughs boisterously with your father, a hand on his back in easy familiarity. You know you should be down there with him given that this is your engagement party, but you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the constant smiling and greeting strangers and showing off your shiny new engagement ring that you needed a break.

The door opens and a man you don't recognize steps into the room, pale blue dress shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and a pair of wrinkled dress pants. He runs a hand through his messy dark curls.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be in here," he says. As he looks you over, his brown eyes go wide with surprise. "Shit, you're the bride!"

You smile at him. "That's me," you reply. You hold a hand out towards him as you give him your name, his rough palm sliding against yours as he grips it firmly.

"I'm Joel Miller," he tells you. You know the name well, being that he's your fiancé's best friend. "Didn't mean to make our first time meetin' so awkward."

"No, no, it's not your fault. I've just been feeling a little overwhelmed with all the," you wave your hand towards the window, "festivities. It's great to finally meet you."

"I don't blame ya. They can get pretty stuffy down there. Congrats, by the way."

"Thank you." He lets go of your hand. "So, why are you hiding?"

He laughs, deep and full bellied. "Alex's mom doesn't like me much. I'm sure she was hopin' that we would stop bein' friends when he went to school on the other side of the country, but I’m like a stubborn tick."

"How could she not like you, Alex told me that the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten!"

"There may have been a few mishaps in high school," he says. "You ever tried eggin' your principal's house?"

"Can't say that I have," you reply.

"Well, it doesn't end well if you get caught." He looks out the window with a smile on his face. "We got arrested. Alex's dad had to bail us out. Probably had to throw some hush money around so that it wouldn't show up on his record when he applied to school."

"He's never told me that!" You say, laughing hard enough around the words that your stomach hurts.

The door opens and this time, Alex himself steps into the room. His serious expression morphs into a smile when he sees you and Joel.

"There you are," he says, crossing the room to kiss your cheek. He greets Joel with a hug, patting his back roughly. "What are you two doing in here?"

"I just needed a minute alone," you tell him.

"And I crashed her minute alone. Told her about the time we got arrested in high school," Joel adds. Alex's jaw tenses, his smile tight as his eyes flick to you, like he's worried about your reaction. "She laughed. It's all good."

"Right. Well, I came to find you because its time for the toast and dinner," Alex says. "Let's get back down to our guests."

A hand at the small of your back urges you towards the door before you can reply.

"Alex, are you listening to me?" You ask. Your fiancé looks up from his phone.

"I'm sorry, baby, I was finishing an e-mail," he says. He sets his phone down on the table, dark screen facing up, and gives you his full attention. "What were you saying?"

"I wanted to schedule the cake tasting. Do you have any free time this week?"

He grimaces. "I don't think I do, sweetheart. Your dad's got my schedule pretty packed."

"I can just ask him to--"

"No," he says sternly. "You know I have to make a good impression with the rest of the firm."

"But--"

"Babe, no. I can't do this week. Why don't you ask my mom? Or Joel?"

While your future mother-in-law is kind enough, you don't have much patience for the way she tries to take control of your wedding planning. Joel, however, might be a good idea. He knows Alex well enough to be a stand in for a decision like cake and icing flavors.

"Could you give me Joel's number?"

Alex smiles, seemingly pleased that he's off the hook as he takes his phone in hand and sends you his best friend's phone number.

You meet Joel at the bakery that week. To your surprise he's there before you, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt and he smiles brightly at you as you approach.

"Hey," he says. "Ready to eat some cake?"

"I think this will be my favorite part of planning this whole wedding," you reply. He laughs as he pulls the door open for you to step inside, following in behind you.

"Welcome to Buttercup Bakery! Can I help y'all with anything?" A young woman with a name tag reading BEVERLY asks from behind the counter, pink and white apron tied around her waist.

"I have a cake tasting appointment," you reply, giving her your name for the reservation.

"Excellent! If you want to go ahead and take a seat anywhere you'd like, I'll bring out the tasting options and we'll get you squared away in no time!"

She disappears through swinging doors as you and Joel take a seat at a pink acrylic table with matching chairs. He looks around the shop with interest.

"What made you pick this place?" He asks.

"Had the best reviews," you say with a shrug. His brow furrows.

"Alex didn't suggest it? He helpin' you at all with this weddin'?"

He says it with a laugh, but the question makes you dig your fingernails into your palm. "He's just really busy with work. I've been doing a lot of the planning."

“What about your uh, what are they called? Bridesmaids?”

“They’re all back in New York. It’s just me.”

“I thought your parents were here, too? Isn’t Alex workin’ with your dad now?”

“It’s just my dad, he’s back in New York. His partner opened a firm in Austin and Alex is working with that office. He’s hoping to make partner soon, too.”

Joel nods, eyes scanning your face but you keep your expression as neutral as possible. The swinging doors open and Beverly returns with a marble tray, bites of cake artfully arranged on the surface. She sets it on the table between you and Joel.

“Okay! These are our six most popular flavor combinations for you to start with and if there’s something more custom you have in mind, we can totally make that happen,” she says. “Starting at the top, we have classic vanilla with vanilla buttercream, chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate buttercream, our signature champagne cake with strawberry buttercream, lemon cake with lavender buttercream, caramel cake with caramel mocha buttercream, and white chocolate cake with raspberry jam and white chocolate raspberry buttercream.”

Joel grins at you. “This might be the best thing anyone has ever asked me to help with.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Beverly says with a wink, walking back to the counter.

“I don’t know which to start with,” you say, eyes scanning the selections.

“That chocolate one is callin’ my name,” Joel replies, spearing one of the chocolate cake bites with a fork and taking a bite. He hums appreciatively. “Oh yeah, that one is a winner.”

You choose the vanilla to start, taking a bite of the moist cake with buttercream that tastes strongly of vanilla bean with a hint of cinnamon. The simplicity makes it good, but overall the flavor doesn't stand out to you. Joel continues to take bites seemingly at random while you opt to go around the tray in the order that Beverly introduced the flavors.

"Any of them stickin' out to you?" Joel asks when you've reached the half-way point.

"They're all delicious," you reply. "I think Alex would probably like the vanilla best, though."

"I didn't ask what Alex would like, I asked if there were any that you liked." He spears the remaining piece of white chocolate raspberry with his fork and holds it up to you. "Here, try this one next."

You eye the fork dubiously. "I don't think--"

Joel slips the bite of cake into your mouth despite your interrupted disagreement, smiling at you triumphantly. You chew the bite begrudgingly.

"I think that one and the chocolate one are my favorite," Joel says as you swallow.

Beverly returns at that moment, a notepad in hand as she pulls up a third chair to the tiny bistro table.

“So? What are your thoughts?”

“I think I’m going to get the vanilla,” you tell her. Joel’s jaw ticks, almost like he’s upset you’ve chosen the flavor that you said Alex would like. “But, could I get alternating tiers of the white chocolate raspberry, too?”

Joel’s lips quirk up in a small smile and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

Joel: Have you picked flowers yet?

Not yet.

Joel: I know a place. You busy today?

You stare the at the message in surprise. You weren’t expecting to hear from Joel again, but his name on your screen has you fighting back a smile.

I’m not busy. When did you want to go?

Joel: They open at noon. Here’s the address.

“Baby, have you seen my blue tie?” Alex calls from upstairs. You drop your phone to the counter like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Which one?” You reply, pressing a hand to your chest.

“The plaid one!”

“Should be in your tie drawer!”

“It’s not here!”

You pinch your nose, making your way to the stairs to join him in your shared bedroom. He’s standing in front of his tie drawer, hands on his hips as he stares at the contents. You peek over his shoulder and reach into the back, pulling out the neatly folded blue and green patterned tie.

He takes it from your hand. “That one should be towards the front. Can you remember that next time you put away dry cleaning?”

“Sure.” You bite your lip to hold back the sigh that threatens to spill. “You want me to tie it for you?”

“No, thanks, I need it to be perfect. Big meeting,” he says, his lips tilted in a smile that feels condescending. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you murmur, watching his back as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Joel is waiting outside of a dark green storefront when you arrive at the address he’d sent you. He smiles when he sees you, a true one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and it gives you this strange feeling of emptiness because you can’t remember the last time Alex smiled at you like that.

When you’re close enough, he pulls you into a hug that envelops you in strong arms and the scent of woods at nightfall with a hint of citrus. Your eyes flutter shut as you hug him back and breathe him in.

He releases you and immediately you feel a chill in losing his warmth despite the oppressive Texas heat. You look at the shop as he steps back, taking in the gorgeous floral arrangements in the window and cursive script painted on the glass that says PETAL TO THE METAL.

Joel opens the door to the shop, a brass bell ringing to announce your entrance. A man at the counter in the center of the store looks up and grins at you both.

“Joel! Nice to see you,” the man says. You watch as they shake hands with familiarity, the man behind the counter smiling kindly. “You must be the bride. I’m Frank.”

You give Joel a look of surprise before introducing yourself and shaking Frank’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you two know each other?”

“Joel’s an old friend of ours.”

“Ours?”

A back door bangs open, someone emerging with their arms so full of potted plants you can’t see their face. A deep voice let’s out a series of curses.

“This is my partner, Bill,” Frank says. “He’s not much of a people person. Great with plants, though.”

“A little help would be nice,” Bill grunts. Frank rolls his eyes but leaves the counter to take a couple pots from Bill’s hands, revealing a man with long brown hair and a grizzled expression hidden amongst a thick beard. Frank leans in and kisses his cheek.

“You need only ask,” Frank says. Bill’s cheeks turn pink beneath his thick facial hair. Despite the annoyed expression on his face, his eyes are soft as he watches Frank. “Let me grab you the event portfolio and we can talk about your wedding. Have a look around.”

As Frank leaves and Bill busies himself arranging the new plants, you and Joel wander the shop and take in aisles and shelves of different flowers with little gold name cards in their pots or on their buckets.

“So,” Joel says, “How are you liking Austin?”

“It’s…hot,” you reply. “Really, really hot.”

“That’s the south for ya, sweetheart.”

Your face grows hot at the endearment and how it seemed to just roll off his tongue. “Have you lived in Austin your whole life?”

“Texas born n’ bred,” he says proudly, puffing his chest out.

“You never wanted to live anywhere else?”

“I’ve always thought Wyoming sounded nice. A farm that I built, some sheep, no neighbors for miles,” he says wistfully. “Maybe someday.”

“Building a farm, huh? You good with your hands, Joel?”

He blinks at you. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m a contractor. I gotta be.”

“That’s impressive,” you tell him, biting your lip to hold back your laughter at his flustered response.

Frank approaches, lifting a heavy book in his hands. “You ready to pick some flowers?”

Joel holds the door open for you as the two of you leave the flower shop an hour later. He waves goodbye to Bill and Frank with a promise to visit them for dinner soon before following you down the sidewalk.

“You wanna get lunch?” Joel offers. “My treat.”

You pull your phone from your pocket to check your messages and finding none from Alex, you think to yourself, why not?

“Sure,” you agree.

That's how you find yourself sitting on a bench in the park with Joel Miller, your husband's best friend, talking to him about everything and nothing as you eat street tacos from a food truck nearby. He makes you laugh so hard you choke on birria, the sauce dripping down your chin. He reaches out, wiping the mess with a brown napkin while he smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame.

Later that night, while you're in bed, you can't help but think today was the best day you've had in a long time.

And you're not sure what that means.

You begin texting Joel regularly. You ask him for his opinion on things that Alex can’t be bothered with — the suit colors for the groomsmen (navy blue), the invitation stationary (the linen finish), and favors (miniature bottles of hot sauce - Joel assures you this will be a hit with the Texas crowd). In between those conversations, he sends you pictures from his construction sites or asks you how your day has been and whether you had gotten the chance to check out that show he recommended.

When you tell Alex about the wedding decisions you've made, leaving out the extent of Joel's help, he hums and nods at the appropriate intervals, feigning attentiveness while his thumb moves rapidly across his phone screen. It should bother you, you think, that your future husband is so uninvolved with planning his own wedding, but then your own phone lights up with Joel’s name and a goofy photo he sent from a construction site, his hard hat askew on his head and his eyes crossed, and your annoyance with Alex fades into background noise.

There’s one last item on your checklist that you’re more nervous to ask Joel for help with than the others — dress shopping. You could probably fly back to New York and be with your friends for the momentous occasion but you’re certain that Alex wouldn’t appreciate your absence for something he considers so frivolous.

Not that you say anything when he’s gone for his golfing trips.

You’re staring at Joel’s contact screen, working up the nerve to call him and ask him if he’d be willing to come dress shopping with you, when it lights up with an incoming call, his name at the top of the screen like just your thoughts summoned him. You answer on the third ring.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” you tell him.

“So that’s why my ears were itchin’,” he laughs. “You need somethin’?”

You take a steadying breath. “I just have one more thing I need help with and then you won’t have to deal with me.”

“I don’t mind helpin’ you, sweetheart.” You stomach flutters at the nickname and he clears his throat to fill the loaded silence that follows his words. “Now, tell me what you need.”

“Could you come dress shopping with me?”

“That all? Just tell me where and when,” he says. You breathe a sigh of relief, giving him the details of the appointment you made at a local boutique. He promises to meet you there this weekend before hanging up.

The word sweetheart in Joel’s deep voice echoes through your mind for the rest of the day.

Joel looks hilariously out of place on the pristine white couch located in the middle of the dress boutique, a dainty glass of champagne held in his large hand. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you watch the sales associate flit around the store, pulling hangers of dresses from the racks.

“That’s a lot of dresses,” Joel comments, taking a sip of champagne.

“You not up for the challenge?” You tease. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his wide smile.

“Trust me, I’m up for the challenge. We’re goin’ to find you the best damn weddin’ dress Texas has ever seen,” he promises.

“Alright, I’ve got some gorgeous choices here for you,” the associate announces, holding up a handful of ivory hangers draped in all types of fabric from satin to chiffon. “You wanna follow me and we’ll get started?”

You follow her to the fitting room and she sets the hangers on a rack, fanning out the dresses so that you can get a better look. There’s five of them in a variety of styles, including an impressive ball gown boasting layers of tulle that trails to the floor.

“I’ll try that one first,” you tell her, pointing to ball gown.

“What’s your fiancé’s name?” She asks as you undress, taking the gown from the hanger and arranging it on the floor for you to step into it.

“Alex,” you reply. She drags the bodice up and instructs you to hold it to your chest while she laces up the corset back.

“I think it’s sweet that you’ve brought him with you.”

“Oh, no. That’s Joel, he’s my husband’s best friend.”

“Really?” She asks, the strings tightening around your waist. “The way you two look at each other, I would have bet money he was the one marrying you." You're about to ask what she means when she finishes tying off the bodice and says, "Wow, this dress is stunning on you."

Her comment retreats to the back of your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror. The strapless white gown hugs your chest and waist, flaring out into a layered skirt with lace appliques. There's beading on the sweetheart neckline that trails down the bodice in intricate patterns that catch the light of the fitting room. The dress is stunning.

Marnie leads you back out to the showroom, helping you step up onto a raised platform in front of a trifold mirror that shows you your reflection from multiple angles. You twist and turn, taking in all the details of it before finally facing Joel.

"Damn," Joel says. "That sure is one hell of a dress."

"It's...a lot." You twist your hips from side to side, the heavy skirt swishing across the floor. "I feel like a cupcake and I don't know if I'll be able to dance in it."

"You wanna test it out?"

He's standing before you can respond, reaching a hand into yours to guide you down from the pedestal. When you're on the floor, he wraps an arm around your low back, pulling you close while swaying side to side.

The world around you goes a little blurry and the only thing in perfect clarity is Joel. The feel of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm at the small of your back, the clean smell of soap and citrus, everything is just....Joel.

"How's it feel?" He asks, voice low. You tilt your head back to look up at his face.

"Huh?"

"The dress...dancin'...how's it feel?"

The question drags you back to reality, where you're currently dancing around a bridal salon with a man who isn't your fiance. You pull away from him, returning to the pedestal as the bridal associate joins the two of you again.

"Uh...I don't think this is the dress for me. Can we try the next one?"

You try on two other dresses in quick succession, neither of them leaving a lasting impression. It's the fourth dress that really gives you pause as you look at yourself in the fitting room mirror.

"Honey," the associate says, adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the dress, "This dress was made for you."

The scooped neckline highlights the lines and curves of your neck and shoulders, the corset bodice hugging your curves in satin folds. The skirt fans out from the waist, similar to the silhouette of the ball gown without all the additional weight and fabric and a thigh high slit allows for some extra movement.

She leads you back out into the showroom and helps you once more onto the pedestal. You grin at your reflection as she fixes the skirt into place.

"Well?" You ask, catching Joel's eye in the mirror. His mouth is set in a serious line, brows pinched together and his arms crossed over his chest. You own smile falters. "You don't like it? What's with the look?"

He shakes his head, his serious expression morphing into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You look..." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Alex is a lucky son of a bitch."

You laugh, lifting the skirt so that you can step off the pedestal. Joel's eyes drop, his gaze fixing on the skirt as you walk towards him.

"You think so?" You ask quietly, stepping in close.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he murmurs. A single finger runs down your arm, goosebumps erupting over your skin in its wake. "I know so."

With the wedding plans finalized, your attention returns to your work as a web design consultant. Your client portfolio starts to build once more, keeping you busy in the months leading up to your big day. Alex remains focused on his work at the firm, working long days and longer nights that have him arriving home well after you've gone to bed, the two of you just ships passing in the dark. You would feel lonely, you think, if not for Joel.

The two of you still message each other frequently, though you don't see him again until a month before the wedding, when Alex invites him over for dinner one Saturday night.

The doorbell rings just as you put the chicken in the oven and you wipe your hands before going to answer it, your heart racing. Joel's sweet smile greets you when you open the door and seeing him across the threshold has the tension in your shoulders easing the slightest bit.

He steps across the threshold, strong arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. Footsteps on the stairs have him releasing you far sooner than you would have liked.

"Joel, my man! Glad you could make it," Alex says as he reaches the first floor. "Honey, is the table set?"

"No, not yet," you reply.

"You need any help?" Joel asks. You open your mouth to respond, but Alex jumps in to say, "No, she's got this. Let me give you the tour."

You watch as Alex leads Joel upstairs, commanding his friend's attention. You swallow down the anger that rises in your throat at your fiancé's dismissal and return to the kitchen, gathering the place settings and arranging the table to his liking.

"It's a nice place," Joel says as the two men enter the living room, which opens to the kitchen and dining areas.

"All that work finally paying off," Alex comments. You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to mention that you were the one who fronted the down payment for Alex's choice of home in Texas. The oven beeps and you pull out the chicken parmesan that had been baking.

"Smells good," Joel comments. You look up, catching his eye. A wordless understanding passes between you, a quiet appreciation that makes your blood run hot.

You plate the food while your fiancé uncorks a bottle of wine and pours it into the wine glasses at each place setting. Alex settles in at head of the table and Joel takes the seat to the left, leaving you with the seat to Alex's right, across from Joel.

The three of you make small talk between bites of dinner and sips of wine. Alex asks Joel about the contracting work he's been doing, Joel asks him about his work at the new office and how he's settling in, being back in his home state. It's halfway through dinner that Joel looks to you and asks, "Are you excited for the wedding next month?"

"Of course," you reply, fingers tangling in the cloth napkin resting across your lap. "Planning it was a labor of love."

"Right, thanks for helping her with the cake, man," Alex chimes in.

Joel chuckles. "Helped with a lot more than just the cake."

"What do you mean?" Alex asks, glancing between the two of you.

"Well, I helped get the flowers, the cake, pickin' out the stationary. Dress shoppin'," Joel clarifies. Your stomach drops as Alex's jaw grows tense, his brow pinched as he nods and pastes on a forced smile.

"Wow, I didn't realize you'd been so involved," Alex says. He removes the napkin from his lap, setting it on the table. "Would you excuse us for a second?"

Alex stands, looking down at you expectantly. You smile at him and Joel in turn, but the expression feels hollow and you taste bile in the back of your throat. As soon as you're on your feet, Alex has a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, urging you along behind him as he makes his way towards the stairs.

Once he's reached your shared bedroom, he turns to you, eyes filled with rage. “What the fuck is that about?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. He laughs, the sound devoid of any humor.

“He helped you pick out your dress?” Alex paces the length of the bedroom like a caged animal and for the first time in your relationship with him, a frisson of fear courses through your veins. “You can’t possibly be that fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “You told me to ask him for his help!”

“With the cake!” Alex shouts. “Not the entire goddamn wedding! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“You weren’t exactly offering much help, Alex!”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you would be perfectly capable of planning shit on your own, but I guess that was giving you too much credit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole right now?”

“Because you’re my fiancé, not Joel’s!” He steps in close, towering above you as he hisses, “Did you fuck him?”

“No!” You shout.

His eyes search yours and whatever he finds seems to extinguish his anger, his coiled muscles loosening. He grips your shoulders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you head back downstairs and I’ll stay up here for a minute to cool off, okay?”

The sudden switch leaves your head spinning but you manage to nod. Alex kisses your forehead and you take that as your cue to leave, escaping the confines of your room. In the hall, you grip the banister of the loft that overlooks the living room and take the first real breath in what feels like ages, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to calm your racing heart.

You return to the kitchen and Joel’s head snaps up when you enter. He rises from his seat at the table, rushing to your side.

“Are you okay?” He asks, low voice filled with concern, his brows pinched with worry. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” you murmur, pushing past him.

“That’s bullshit,” he hisses. “Is he always like that?”

“Like what?” You sigh.

“An asshole. Yellin’ and threatenin’ you.” His fists are clenched at his sides. “He ever hit you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You take a deep breath, beating back the wave of tears pressing at the corners of your eyes. “He’s just got a lot going on with the move and work and the wedding.”

Joel is quiet, watching you with keen brown eyes that you, for once, wish weren’t focused on you. He steps close, voice low as he says, “Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you tell him. The lie claws at your throat and sends your stomach into a tailspin. “I promise.”

Footsteps echo on the stairs and you step away from Joel, busying yourself with loading the dishwasher, clearing the counters, anything to keep your hands occupied and stop their shaking. Alex enters the kitchen with a sharp smile.

“Hey, man, sorry about that,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “I think we’re ready to call it a night. Ain’t that right, honey?”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Alex as you smile and say, “Yeah, baby.”

“Let me walk you out, Joel,” Alex says. “Honey, say bye.”

“Goodbye, Joel.”

Joel: Hey

Joel: You having a good week?

Joel: Been a while. You doing okay?

Joel: You’ve been quiet

Joel: I need to know you’re okay.

Joel: Just let me know

Joel: Please

“Just two more days until you’re my wife,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smiles at you and you mirror the expression as best you can.

“I can't wait,” you reply.

"I gotta get going," Alex says. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes where you're sitting at the bar. "Love you."

"Love you," you repeat, out of reflex more than affection.

The front door slams shut and quiet settles over the house. All you want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over your head in the hopes that it protects you from the way time continues to creep forward despite your uncertainties. Maybe, if you lay there long enough, time will move on without your involvement.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. You’re not sure who it could be — your dad is scheduled to fly into town in the late afternoon and your friends arrive early tomorrow morning and you’re fairly certain you don’t have any deliveries scheduled. Sliding from the bar stool, you leave the kitchen to answer the door.

Joel stands on the other side of the threshold, haloed by the morning sun. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re dreaming.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask.

“Can I come in?” He replies, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I need to talk to you.”

You step aside and allow him to enter the hallway, shutting the door behind him. You avoid his gaze as you return to the living room with him following behind you. The silence that settles between the two of you makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Why haven't you been talkin' to me?" Joel asks. He takes a step closer, brown eyes searching yours for an answer you try to keep hidden.

"I've been busy," you say.

"Cut the bullshit," he snaps, surprising you. "Is it because of what happened at dinner?"

"No," you reply. Joel must sense the brief hesitation, hear the weakness in your voice. His eyes go soft, full of pity, and you can't fucking stand it. "Don't look at me like that."

"Look, I've known Alex a long time, and all those years weren't exactly peachy," he says cryptically. "I love him like a brother but even family ain't without faults.” He steps in close, his hands cradling your face in a delicate grip. “Tell me this is what you want," he demands. "Tell me that you're happy with Alex. Tell me that there's nothin' here between us."

The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue, but nothing can bring them to life. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm against your ribcage, the rush of blood in your ears the only thing you can hear. He leans closer, eyes dropping to your lips and you know what's about to happen next but you can't bear the thought of stopping him as he closes the scant distance between your mouths.

For the briefest moment, you allow yourself the chance to just feel. No thoughts, no panic, no worry. Just Joel's warm lips moving against yours, the trace of his palm from you cheek to behind your head, pulling you closer even though you're already tightly pressed to him. It's slow and deep, like he's trying to convince you down to your marrow that this is where you're supposed to be.

But it's not.

You push him away and he doesn't fight you, but the look he gives you damn near shatters your resolve. His eyes are dark, jaw tense, hands flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back, damn the consequences. Your eyes and throat burn with the effort of holding back the tears that threaten to spill.

"You need to leave," you whisper. "You can't do this, we can't do this. I'm getting married in two days, Joel!"

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on the strands in frustration. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lay awake at night thinkin' what a fuckin' asshole I am for fallin' in love with my best friend's fiancé?!" He shouts.

"This isn't love, Joel--"

"Don't," he snaps. "Don't you lie to me. I know it, you know it, hell, the fuckin' lady at the dress shop knew it!" He takes a deep breath. "I'm showin' you my whole hand here and you won't even lay down a goddamn card!"

"There is no card!" You shout.

"You kissed me back!" He counters.

You stare at each other for a long moment, like two scared, wounded animals. Eventually, one of you has to back down, retreat, lick their wounds until they've healed in a messy pattern of scar tissue that will serve as a painful reminder of what could have been.

Joel sighs, another pass of his hand through his hair as he says, "You know what? Fine." He turns to leave, the line of his shoulder lower, his head low.

A glutton for punishment, you call out, "Joel?"

"Yeah?" He asks, weary. Bone tired. You feel it, too.

"Will you still be there tomorrow?" You ask, unsure of which answer would be worse.

Another sigh. "Yeah. I'll be there."

The door slams shut behind him.

Your rehearsal dinner is torture.

This should be one of the happiest events of your life but all your energy is being directed at avoiding Joel like the plague. He moves through the crowd comfortably, having known many people in attendance for most of his life, and you feel like an unmoored boat, hoping a wave doesn't crash over you.

Alex sits beside you, drinking from a glass of whiskey as he talks to one of his uncles that has been praising him for landing the opportunity to work with such a prestigious law firm right after college. A dizzying rotation of people approach you through the night - friends who chatter excitedly about the big day tomorrow, aunts who ask when you think you'll have children, uncles who tell you that they're proud of you for landing such a successful, promising young man. It's those last comments that have you hiding a frown in your champagne glass.

It drags on forever, this constant stream of polite conversation and forced smiles. When you finally return to the hotel that you're staying at for the night, you start to feel like you can breathe again. You have a suite separate from Alex's for getting ready early in the morning and he walks you to your room, hand on your low back, a smile on his face.

"I'll see you in the morning," he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "My almost wife."

The sentiment has bile rising in your throat and as he turns to leave you're blurting the words, "I can't do this."

"Sweetheart, you're just nervous," he says, voice surprisingly calm. He squeezes your shoulders. "You just need to sleep it off and everything will be fine in the morning."

"No," you tell him, shaking your head. "No, it won't be fine."

His smile drops, like a mask has just been removed. "Where is this coming from? Everything was fine at the rehearsal."

"Everything was not fine at the rehearsal!"

Alex takes the room key from your hands, unlocked the door and ushering you inside. He flicks on the light to the sitting area and takes a seat on the couch.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, exasperation dripping from his words. "What do you mean the rehearsal wasn't fine? Did you not like the food or something?"

You stare at him incredulously. "The problem wasn't the food, Alex! The problem is us!"

"There's no problem with us," he says. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He stands, coming close. "Is this about Joel?"

"No!" You snap, perhaps too quickly. "This isn't about Joel."

"Then what is it? Because as far as I know, we're a perfectly happy couple."

"Perfectly happy? Alex, you didn't even help me plan this wedding. Not a single minute of it."

"Not this again," he groans. "Sweetheart, let it go. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear?"

Your jaw aches with how hard your teeth grind together as he dismisses you so easily. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth steadies you enough to say, "I'm not marrying you."

"Baby, please," Alex says. For the first time, he sounds panicked. "Don't make any rash decisions, alright? Whatever this is, we can work through it. If I lose you, I lose everything."

Maybe he's right. Maybe the stress of the last few months has just caught up to you.

"Okay," you whisper. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses another kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he says. "Everything will be okay after tomorrow. You'll see."

You don't say anything back, and he doesn't wait around for a response. He leaves your suite, the click of the door shutting loud in the late night silence. You stand there for who knows how long, wondering if he's right. Would everything be alright after tomorrow? Could you sweep those lingering feelings for Joel to the side in favor of the life you'd been building for the last few years?

You know what the safe choice is, but is it the right choice?

It's the morning of your wedding day and you've been poked and prodded with makeup brushes and your hair has been perfectly styled for the occasion. Flashbulbs have been going off on the cameras that are documenting your special day, capturing moments like your bridesmaids helping you into your dress and your dad's first look, a handkerchief clutched in his hand as he smiled at you.

For the first time in hours, you're alone in your suite. The makeup artist and hair stylists have packed up and taken their leave and your friends are downstairs, waiting for the limousine. You told them you would be just a minute longer.

A soft knock at your door has you realizing that you may have taken too long and you shout an apology as you rush to answer it. But it's not one of your friends on the other side like you had expected.

It's Joel.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His hair is styled, curls smoothed and slicked back into submission. His white shirt is a stark contrast to his navy blue tuxedo, matching bow tie tight around his neck. His boutonnière is slightly crooked where it sits pinned to his jacket lapel. He looks you up and down with a small smile.

"You look beautiful," he says. He reaches for your hand, fingers tangling with yours. Never quite folding together, but never quite letting go, either.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Are you ready?" He asks. You wonder if he knows, if Alex told him or if he can just see it on your face.

"Yes."

It's a lie, one you've been repeating since your alarm went off this morning after a night of tossing and turning. His smile falters, but doesn't drop.

"Good, that's....good," he says. His hand leaves yours, and you feel like you've had an entire unspoken conversation that's left you both defeated. "Lets go get you married."

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

divider graphic by @saradika-graphics.

thinking about joel miller's enormous monster cock

🌗✨TONIGHT ✨🌗

YESSSSSSSSS ❤️💋❤️💋💋❤️ tysm V

punishment

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You drag your boyfriend to your best friend’s annual Halloween party and get brave after a couple of drinks—it’s not like Joel’s really going to punish you while all of your friends are under the same roof, right?

*possible dubcon, see note after tags.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. HALLOWEEN FIC, no outbreak AU. non canon Joel. ESTABLISHED CONSENSUAL BDSM DYNAMIC. (TWs) daddy kink, ddlg dynamic, dom Joel who has a firm hand (literally) but he does provide some gentle aftercare after punishment. self indulgent age gap, reader is in her mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but please tweak it to your imaginations. alcohol, candy, food, reader dresses up as Belle, Joel is a kind of a party pooper who doesn’t dress up as Beast. Grumpy-ish Joel, reader is a little bit of a brat but not over the top bratty, harsh spanking (reader gets spanked 3x in the fic) brief aftercare in the form of cuddles, petnames (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, princess, y’know because of her costume ha, little one is used like once in the fic) SMUT; fingeing, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) very quick fuck, creampie, Joel and reader fuck on her best friend’s bed (oops).

*the reason i say possible is because reader does drink at the party, it’s stated she sobers up a bit by the time they get to the bedroom. i would rather just put this warning JUST IN CASE. it was something i realized completely on my own and i want to be as careful and honest as i can.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i’m gonna throw up. so first thing is first, i edited the tags as i saw appropriate. i took out soft dom, i added harsh to the spanking, and clarified that it is an established bdsm dynamic and it is consensual. i also added dubcon. this was out of my own volition as i realized reader does consume alcohol and at this point i feel like i’m being monitored so let’s be safe, yeah?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this is not your cup of tea please just scroll by. if even a hint of any warning raises a red flag for you, please do not read.

this fic in my head is from the strawberry universe and you can read the fic here to get a sense of their dynamic. you don’t have to, and you don’t have to associate the two but i do.

Joel leans against the wall, lips pursed together as he glances around and takes in his surroundings.

He feels so out of place—he looks so out of place.

He knew he’d stick out like a sore fucking thumb.

How could he not?

He’s surrounded by nothing but a bunch of twenty something year olds dressed in costume—not that normal attire would have made a difference. Joel’s twice the age of everybody in that goddamn room and he wouldn’t have fit in no matter the occasion. But for as uncomfortable as he feels, he is sucking it up for one reason, and one reason only—making his sweet girl happy.

Joel lifts his bottle of beer to his lips, taking a swig of the cheap domestic lager that tasted as awfully watered down as he’d imagined it would. His deep brown eyes follow you as you float about the party with your best friend, Maddie, arm in arm. He isn’t trying to be overprotective, after all, you’re among friends you’ve known since high school, hell some of them you grew up with on the same block when you’d been a child. Still, he’s already noticed some wandering male gazes, which he half expected the moment that he’d first seen your costume back at his place.

“Where’s your costume?” he’d asked you from the bottom of the staircase as you appeared at the top of it wearing bone-crushingly tight yellow corset—the thin, matching satin skirt fell above the middle of your thighs, showing off your soft, smooth legs; even from a distance he could see you had dusted them, along with every other inch of exposed skin, in the body glitter he had something of a love-hate relationship with. He loved it on you, but hated the way it would get all over him, how it would take an entire week’s worth of showers for it to come off—how the idiots at work would give him shit and ask him if he’d spent the night fucking Tinkerbell.

“Um, this is my costume,” you’d replied with a tiny grin, waving around the single long-stemmed rose in your hand. You had completed your outfit with a pair of white, ruffle ankle socks and five inch heels that you could only pray to the heavens above that you would last the whole night in without breaking a bone. “I told you I was going as Belle, Joel. Don’t you remeber?”

Of course he remebered, because you had wanted him to go as Beast. He’d put his foot down then.

“Funny, I don’t remember her showin’ off so much skin in the movie,” he remarked as you descended the stairs towards him. Throat bobbing, he tried to keep a straight face. He couldn’t fucking deny you looked so heart stoppingly gorgeous. “Sweetheart I ain’t all too fuckin’ comfortable lettin’ you out like this. You’re showin’ off way too much. Besides, it’s fuckin’ sixty degrees tonight. S’too damn cold and the last thing I want is you gettin’ sick—”

Joel had stopped when you made it to the bottom of the staircase. He bit back a groan when you put both hands on his chest and looked up at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes that always got him good.

“Daddy.”

The word had fallen from your plush, gloss-slicked lips, sweet like honey.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m going to have you to keep me safe tonight.” Fingers splayed over the soft fabric of his plaid brown flannel, your eyes met his and you added, “And warm, too.”

“S’that right, little one?” he’d rasped.

“Mhm. Safe and warm, just like you always do.”

Jesus fuckin’ Christ.

Oh, how easily you did him in, especially whenever you called him Da—

Joel’s train of thought is broken when he notices a younger blond man dressed as a baseball player in a corner, drinking with his buddies. He isn’t paying attention to his friends, though. His eyes are glued to you, glazing over every inch of you from head to toe as you stand nearby with Maddie and a couple other of your girlfriends, sucking on a lollipop.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Joel saunters through the crowd of party goers and over toward you and your friends. Without hesitation, he slides his free hand around your waist, biting back a little smirk when he sees the look of disappointment on the younger man’s face from his peripheral vision.

“Hi Joel,” the the girls coo at him, giggling.

He gives them a subtle nod hello. “Ladies.”

“Excuse me, but where is your costume?” Maddie, who is donning black lingerie and matching wings on her back, reaches out and pokes his chest. “It’s a Halloween party! You’re supposed to dress up!”

“That’s what I told him,” you say, pulling the candy out of your mouth with a pop. “But nooo, he didn’t wanna listen to me because he’s a party pooper!”

Joel catches the way your words slur together just a little bit, enough to let him know it’s time for him to get you to start drinking some water, instead of the fruit flavored alcohol in your plastic red cup. “I did dress up,” he states, gesturing with his beer to his flannel. “Came dressed up as a lumberjack.”

“You’re broad enough to fit the part,” Maddie says with a wink, touching his bicep. “Isn’t he, girls? So broad and big and strong—”

You glare at her. “I’m standing right here, Mads—I would appreciate it if you don’t flirt with him right in front of me. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Better than behind your back babe,” she quips as she brushes the rose you’d brought to the party as part of your costume against the tip of your nose.

Annoyed, you snatch it out of her hand.

“Alright, alright,” Joel steps in just as you’re about to open your mouth to respond. “S’cuse us, ladies. We’ll be over here for a minute.” He pulls you away over to the refreshment table near the kitchen. He sets down his beer and then takes your plastic cup from you, putting it down beside his bottle. After a minute, he finds the plastic bottles of water on the edge of the table and grabs one, twisting the cap. “Here,” he says, handing it to you.

“I don’t want water,” you wrinkle your nose at it.

“Y’need water. Don’t want you gettin’ too drunk.”

“But it’s party!”

“Baby listen to me. I want you to drink water,” Joel says, holding the bottle out to you.

Refusing to take it you, you lift your lollipop, giving it a seductive lick. “You can’t boss me around. Not here, Joel.” You innocently bat your eyes at him. “I don’t have to listen to you tonight.”

Joel calmly puts the cap back on the bottle before putting it down. “Is that so, darlin’?”

Confidently, you nod, humming, “Mhm.”

He leans down and presses his lips to your ear, the scruff of his beard ticking your cheek. “Baby, don’t you think for one second that I’m afraid to put you in your place here at your friend’s party. You’d best stop actin’ like a little brat.” He pulls away and lifts his hand, yanking your lollipop out of your mouth. Dropping it into the table, he adds, “And don’t you dare try and test me. You understand, little girl?”

Smiling, you give your rose a delicate sniff.

“I don’t think you’ll do a damn thing to me here.”

He knows it’s the alcohol talking. He knows.

But that doesn’t stop Joel from wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You had sobered up slightly by the time you found yourself being pulled into the first bedroom on the left at the stop of the staircase. Maddie’s room—if Joel looked out of place downstairs, up here in the pink and white bedroom, he looked even more out of place. “Joel, what the hell are you doing?”

Joel says nothing.

He locks the door and then stalks over toward the foot of the full-sized bed where he takes a seat on the pink floral duvet. He pats his lap and finally, he speaks, his tone calm but serious. “C’mere.”

Your heart skips a beat or two. “Huh?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Now.”

Bewildered, you simply stand there.

He’s going to do this here? In Maddie’s room?

While she and all your friends are downstairs?

Nerves set in, but so does another sensation.

Excitement.

“Joel—”

“Don’t make Daddy tell you again, darlin’.”

Somehow, wobbly legs and all, you make it over to him and he pulls you down, draping you across his lap. He lifts the satin skirt of your costume up over your ass and you can feel the way he freezes when he realizes you’re not wearing panties underneath. His cock twitches against your belly and there is a part of him that wants to forget the discipline, just let you get away with your behavior and throw you onto the bed so he can fuck you senseless. But he somehow resists the urge.

“Daddy, I’m sorry for being a brat—”

“S’too late, baby. I told you not to test me and you did.”

“But Dadd—” Your own yelp cuts you off when his large hand delivers a swift, harsh strike to your ass without warning. Dropping your rose, you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your hands into tight fists. Your heart’s pounding, and the adrenaline courses through your veins. The first blow wasn’t so bad, it was the two that followed that always brought you to tears. “Daddy, I’m sorry!”

Joel kneads the spot where he’d spanked you with his rough, calloused fingers and tsks in response. “I warned you. Shoulda listened to me, darlin’.”

He lifts his arm over his head, pauses, and then he brings it down, smacking the same tender spot.

Thankfully, the music downstairs is loud enough—no one can hear the cry that rips from the back of your throat. Hot tears begin to well up in your eyes and you blink them back furiously.

“Betcha regret testin’ me, don’t you, princess?”

Your mind can barely register the new pet name.

“I—yes. I do, I really, really do. I’m really sorry.”

Joel rubs his palm over your ass, eliciting a painful groan from you—it’s raw and it hurts. It’s taking all the strength you have in you not to squirm, or else you’ll earn yourself an additional strike.

“One more darlin’ and you’re done. Alright?”

All you can do is nod and brace yourself for it.

Joel’s hand comes down on you for the last time.

You cover your mouth with your hands, muffling a scream that the music downstairs isn’t quite loud enough to hide.

Joel comes back into Maddie’s room with a bottle of water in his hand. He finds you pacing back and forth and knows you’re afraid to sit down because you’re sore.

There’s a small part of him that almost feels bad.

Almost.

He only ever disciplines you when it’s necessary.

When you need guidance.

He doesn’t do it for fun or for pleasure.

No. Joel does it because he wants you to become the best version of yourself while under his care.

“C’mere sweetheart,” he beckons for you with one motion of his free hand as he sits down at the foot of the bed once again. Taking your hand, he gently seats you on his lap. With his arms around you, he twists the cap off the bottle and then lifts it. “Here baby, want you to drink,” he murmurs, putting the mouth to your lips. He watches you take a few sips and praises, “That’s a good girl. Little more, now.”

Once he’s satisfied with the amount you’ve had to drink, Joel puts the cap back onto the water bottle and sets it aside before wrapping you in his arms.

“Did so well with your punishment, baby. M’proud of you,” he says, pressing a kiss into your hair.

Melting into his broad chest, you sigh contentedly and murmur, “Thank you, Daddy.”

For a while, he just holds you and assures you over and over again how good you did for him, tells you how proud he is of you for handling discipline even through the discomfort and the pain. He tells you how much he loves you.

Lifting your head off his shoulder, you utter a quiet “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Earlier you called me something—something you have never called me before.”

The creases between his brows deepen. “I did?”

“Mhm.” Shyly, you nod. “You called me princess.”

Joel clicks his tongue. “I s’ppose I did call you that name,” he muses with an amused chuckle. “Guess the costume made me think of it.” He notices your eager smile, the glimmer in your eyes and he grins at you. “Did’ya like it when I called you that?”

“Yes.”

He places a hand on your thigh.

“Yes, what?”

His touch causes your breath to hitch.

“Yes, Daddy,” you breath out.

He leans forward, brushing your mouth with a kiss so soft and tender thst a pleasant warmth radiates throughout your chest.

“My princess,” he murmurs huskily before tugging your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a bite.

The arousal pools between your legs and your first instinct is to squeeze them together. He notices.

Joel pulls his mouth away from yours, just ever so slightly, and drags his hand further up your leg. He skims the hem of your skirt with his fingertips.

“Couldn’t help but notice,” he starts, his voice low, husky, “That you ain’t wearin’ any panties tonight. S’there a reason why? Can you tell Daddy why you left the house with nothin’ under this pretty skirt?”

Heat floods your face, pooling in your cheeks. “I—I was just thinking about later. After the party, when we got home.”

He smirks. “Didn’t wanna waste time or what?” He nudges your thighs apart with his hand and slips it between them. Skimming your jawline with the tip of his nose, he runs his index finger up your damp slit, lightly grazing your clit. “Christ, my sweet girl. You’re fuckin’ soakin’ for me already.”

Moaning, you reach for a fistful of his flannel, heat blazing in your lower belly.

“What is it, baby? What d’ya want?” Joel asks. He drags his finger down your cunt and then back up. “You want Daddy’s fingers? Hm?”

You nod almost frantically. “Yes, please.”

“Where do you want ‘em?”

You buck your hips forward into his hand in reply.

“Use your words, princess. S’only way to get what you want.”

“I want them inside me, Daddy. I need them inside of my pussy, please—”

“That’s it. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel kisses your temple and slips one finger inside of your throbbing cunt, followed by a second. Your head lulls back and you arch back in his lap as you adjust to the delicious stretch of his thick digits.

His mouth latches onto your exposed neck and he nips at the delicate flesh with his teeth.

“Fuck,” you moan when you feel his fingers curl to hit that soft spongy spot within your walls. “Daddy please, I want more. Need—need more—”

“Such a needy little girl, aint’cha darlin’? Always so needy for Daddy?” He says into your collarbone as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“Yes, yes, yes—fuck that feels so good—”

He slides his fingers out of your core and starts to rub slow, but firm circles around your clit. With his cock straining against the zipper of his denim blue jeans, Joel picks up the pace. He knows Maddie is probably already looking for you, and he refuses to allow you to leave this bedroom without the inside of your thighs coated, dripping with his come. But he has to take care of you first, he always does.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, the coil wound in between your hips ready to snap forward. “Close, I’m so close—fuck, Daddy can I please come?”

Joel sinks his two fingers back into you, his thumb circling the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves. He nods, “Come for me, sweet girl. Want you to come all over my fingers like the good girl I know you are for me. Come for me—” The firm command sends you free falling over the edge. Your soft, breathless moans fill the bedroom, your velvet walls fluttering around his fingers. “That’s it, fuckin’ let go. Let go for Daddy. There you go, such a good fuckin’ girl.”

As you come down from the high, Joel withdraws his hand from between your legs, his digits coated in slick. Normally he’d have you suck them clean—but there’s no time. With only a very minor protest from his back, he manages to stand up with you in his arms and sets you down. “Bend over the bed.”

Still slightly drunk off your own climax, you do just as you’re told and lean over the edge of the bed on your stomach. You hear him unbuckle his belt, and the sound alone causes another fire to ignite deep in your lower belly. “Daddy?” You glance over your shoulder at him with lustful, half lidded eyes as he pushes his jeans down to the middle of his thighs; his thick cock springs free from confinement and you can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of it.

“What baby?” his gaze meets yours. He strokes at his length, willing himself not to fucking explode—seeing you in your costume, bent over, perfect ass up in the air waiting for him? He isn’t going to last.

“I need you to fuck me,” you say sweetly. “Please.”

A guttural growl rumbles through his chest and he leans over you—a massive bulk of a man shielding your entire body, making you feel so much smaller than you were. Joel wraps a hand around his base, then drags the head of his cock along the seam of your cunt, coating it in your sweet slick.

Still hunched over you, he asks, “Ready to take me baby? Ready to take Daddy’s cock?”

“God, yes please.”

Joel trails a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses from your shoulder and makes his way up your neck. He slides into you, his length and girth stretching you until he finally bottoms out. He pauses and groans into your skin, giving himself a second to savor the feeling of the initial stretch. “S’tight for me. Christ baby, s’like your sweet little pussy’s made for me.” He lifts himself and grabs at your hips, rocking his own in a pace that starts off slow, but then speeds up when he hears the sound of high-heels clicking their way up the stairs. Worried it could be Maddie coming to look for you, his thrusts become sloppy and quick, causing you to cry out loudly.

Without losing rhythm, Joel reaches down, pulling you off of the bed so your back is against his chest as he’s fucking you. He wraps one arm around you to hold you in place and his opposite hand clamps over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Gonna come, baby. Gonna come and fill you up—you want that? Hm?” His breath is hot against your ear. “Want me to send you back out to your friends so fuckin’ full of me?”

Eagerly, you nod.

He wants to draw it out, doesn’t want it to end this quickly, but there’s a knock at the door and he has no choice. He shoves you back down onto the bed and pins you down, biting down on his lower lip to keep as quiet as possible as he snaps his hips, one final deep thrust that has him spilling into you.

Maddie calls your name. “Are you in there?”

You clutch at her bedsheets, your mouth open in a silent scream as you feel your cunt milking him for all that he has, filling with every last drop.

“Hello?” Maddie knocks again. “Who’s in here?”

Joel slumps forward, leaning over you. “You’d best just answer her, darlin’,” he grunts quietly. He rests his arms on either side of you, his cock still buried inside your center.

In the steadiest voice you can muster, you call out, “It’s me, I’m in here!”

There’s a pause. “Is Joel in there with you?”

“Uh…yeah.”

“Jesus.” You can hear the eye roll in her tone. “You couldn’t at least do it in the fucking bathroom like normal people do? You had to do it in my room?”

“Sorry, Mads.”

Joel snorts in amusement into your shoulder.

“You owe me a new set of bedsheets!”

And with that, you both hear her stomp away.

Joel pulls out of you and stands. “C’mon, let’s get ourselves decent.”

After the two of you clean yourselves up—not only do you owe your best friend new bedding, but you also now her a fresh pack of feminine wipes—both of you take one final glance in the mirror just to be certain there wasn’t a single hair out of place. Well for you, anyway. Joel’s thick, salt and pepper curls were always out of place no matter what.

“Can’t forget this,” Joel comes up behind you with your rose. Handing the flower to you, he smirks as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “So—princess, huh?”

You turn your head and kiss his cheek. “That’s one name I could really get used to, you know.”

“S’long as a princess attitude don’t come with it.”

“No promises, Joel.”

divider credit to @saradika ❤️

Hi!

Eclipse my beloved

I might color this– maybe