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macfrog · 10 months

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you shook me all night long sex on fire chapter one

requested by @whore-4-pedro (hope u enjoy lovely)

lived all my succession fantasies out writing this one icl. enjoy 🖤 check out my masterlist for more joel fun ‼️

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: as joel miller's assistant, you're expected to meet all his needs. some are a little more personal than others

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) creepy dude at the beginning, lotta teasing and touching, mentions of female masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, semi-public sex, daddy kink, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), alcohol and drug use, cursing, low-key inappropriate work relationship (if bad then why sexy?)

word count: 7.8k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more. You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin. “I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?” “Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

It’s Friday night.

You only got home from work an hour and a half ago. Tired, hungry, sore eyes from staring at a screen all night, sore back from sitting hunched over all day. Dumped your bags at the door, ripped your clothes off by your bed, dove straight into the shower. You’d picked an outfit, curled your hair in record time, and even done your makeup before Deb called to say she was out front.

It was a ten-minute drive from your place to the hotel – it’s only a couple blocks from work. The cab driver made light conversation, talked about his daughter and her new puppy, and you both nodded and uhuhed in all the breaks in his sentences. Deb made some comment about it being easier if you’d just stayed at the office until the party, and you’d hummed in agreement, looking out the window at the regal hotel.

Truth be told, you’d rather be doing anything other than attending a work function. You’ve had a long week. A lot of meetings, paperwork, emails to be answered, and most of all, running around after your boss. It’s not all fun and games being Joel Miller’s assistant, regardless of the pay, or the view from your desk over to his.

Your head’s elsewhere when you waltz through the revolving door, heels clicking along the marble floor. The elevator – gold, by the way – slides open and you both step inside, hitting the highest button before you’re swept up twenty floors to the penthouse.

“Did you send those documents over to us yet?” Deb asks.

“Nope,” you reply, slipping out when the elevator dings. “Had to sit in on a meeting with Joel and take the fucking minutes, spent all night writing them up.”

“He won’t be pissed at you?”

“If he hadn’t insisted I was in there with him, you’d have your reports, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugs, agreeing.

“Anyway,” you continue, “I can take angry Joel. He doesn’t scare me.”

Deb chuckles as you shoulder the doors to the penthouse open.

It’s a moody dull, lit only by the lights lining the bar and small lamps decorating mahogany tables, sat next to deep green velvet couches. There are clusters of people everywhere you look; stood near shelves filled with leather-bound books, examining the view from the floor to ceiling windows, sprawled out over luxurious chairs with champagne flutes in their hands. There’s a tree in the middle of the room, branches decorated in blinking string lights reaching to a glass dome in the ceiling.

It's, like, sickeningly pretentious. You know it. Hell, you all know it. Still, in your little black dress, you strut over and take a champagne of your own, sipping on the fizzing drink with one elbow resting on the wooden bar.

“There’s my girl,” his voice coos over your shoulder. “Been watchin’ for you all night, took your time.”

You lean back, bored expression on your face.

Joel’s broad chest pulls on the white shirt he’s wearing, same one you just saw him in little over three hours ago, only without a tie; the top couple of buttons are undone to reveal his chest hair peeking through. You try not to let your eyes linger on him too long.

“You look fuckin’ ecstatic to be here.”

He leans against the bar next to you, arms crossed. When you don’t reply, he nudges you. Your champagne jolts in its glass.

“I always look like this. I’m always ecstatic to be everywhere.”

He smiles. “Why aren’t you mingling?”

“Don’t wanna.”

“’s a work event. That’s the whole point.”

“Then why are you over here talkin’ to me?”

His eyes flash across your lips, and you swear they drop for a nanosecond to your chest.

“Come on,” he says, taking your wrist in his huge hand, “some people you oughta meet.”

Joel ignores your sigh and leads you over onto a plush rug, sidling between knees to sit you down on the soft couch between himself and some bald dude in a jet blue suit, whose shirt is also undone, though much further than Joel’s. He has a chest like a hairless cat.

Cue Ball snakes an arm over the back of the couch; his fingers dance across your back. You shimmy a little closer to Joel and he notices instantly, jaw turning slowly to glance over. When he sees your knees angled toward him, seeking protection, he leans back and wraps his left arm around your shoulders, his right coming down to cup your knee.

“This,” he shakes your leg, left arm pulling you tighter against him, “is my wonderful assistant. My right-hand lady. Couldn’t do anything without her, could I?”

“Could wipe your own ass, that’s about it,” you mumble into your glass, and a roar of laughter sounds from your audience.

Joel, still leaning back, pulls his arm from you but keeps his shoulder firmly behind yours, making sure whatever the creep on your left tries, he’ll feel first. Your elbow rests in the crook of his, and you keep it there, quietly enjoying the intimacy of his body caging yours.

His left hand is settled on your thigh. You realize it after a swig of champagne, and start counting in your head how many seconds his fingers stay gripped on your skin.

He talks with his hands – always has. Walks around his office, ranting and raving sometimes, arms swinging around in the air while you take notes, or file your nails, or just watch until he’s done. For the next half hour, though, he only talks with his right hand. Only sips his beer with his right hand. Only scratches his beard, or pulls his phone from his pocket, or reaches up and passes you a second drink, and then a third, with his right hand.

You stay rigid, legs unmoving, eyes barely leaving his knuckles, locked tight around your thigh. There’s heat from his touch siphoning from his palm down through your skin, rippling like waves all through your body and pooling somewhere south of your belly button. No matter how hard you try, you can’t shake it. Can’t stop thinking about it. You barely notice when Cue Ball’s hand ghosts across your back a second time.

But Joel notices, straight away. He flashes the guy a look, and you swear he’s baring his teeth. Eyes locked on the blue suit like it’s a target, never blinking. He doesn’t say anything when his prey excuses himself to the bathroom, and you don’t turn to watch him go, but you do notice three other sharp-suited pricks stand and wander off in that direction after him.

Probably not a coincidence.

Joel still has a hold on your leg. Your flute is empty, and you lean forward to place it on the wooden table at your knees, beginning to stand.

His grip loosens, but he looks up at you as you tower over him.

“Cocktail,” you tell him with a sweet smile, and he nods, letting you go.

You know he’s watching you as you slink away. Is it the alcohol in your system, or something darker, that makes you sway your hips a little more for his benefit?

Deb’s over at the bar with Martha, another of Joel’s assistants. She’s around his age, worked for him much longer than you have, but when he hired you, you took on most of the groundwork. Following Joel’s orders– sorry, requests, organizing meetings, filing paperwork for him. Martha sits at a desk outside Joel’s office, answers the phone and directs anyone who happens to wander up to the top floor of the building.

Did I say directs? I meant strikes coldblooded fear within them and sends them back running the way they came, with just one look and a nod in the opposite direction.

Unless they’re there for a meeting with Joel, that is. And if they are, that’s where you come in. Good morning, Mr. Salazar, Mr. Miller will be right with you. This way, he’s just finishing up a call.

Martha’s a tough nut. But she likes you enough, so she smiles warmly as you approach.

“I’m hearing all about your note-taking this afternoon,” she hums when you hop up onto a barstool, catching the bartender’s eye. He trots over.

You sigh to Martha, eyes wide. “I didn’t leave until, like, eight. What the fuck’s that about? Can I just get a cosmopolitan, please?” you ask, and the bartender nods. He looks about fifteen.

Martha shakes her head, laughing. “He did it to me when I was first startin’ out, too. Told him to stick his minutes where the sun don’t shine.”

“I’ve been here three years,” you mutter, and Deb snorts.

“You’d think Joel would’ve changed his ways in the, what, seven decades since you started, Martha?”

It earns her a slap across the shoulder. You stifle your laugh behind your glass, thanking the teenager who served you it with a nod.

“Twenty years next March, actually,” Martha says.

“That so? D’you think he’ll get you anything for it?”

“If I’m lucky,” she sighs, eyes travelling up to the ceiling in thought, “a lunch break where he doesn’t bother me once.”

“Knowing Joel, that means a lunch break where he bothers you twice.”

You smile, glancing past the pretentious tree to where Joel is, and notice he’s already staring right back. A swarm of butterflies flutter around your stomach, dancing over the heat his handprint left within you. They only grow more violent when he stands and walks over, broad shoulders swaying, eyes flitting up and down your body.

You lean back, sitting up straight, eyeing him right back as he joins the three of you.

“Speak of the devil,” Martha says, and Joel chuckles in response, but his eyes never leave you.

“We were just talkin’ about Martha’s twenty years,” says Deb, winking.

He finally turns to answer her. “Oh, yeah? When’s that, then, old-timer?”

“Dirtball!” Martha yells, and Joel smirks. It goes straight to your core.

“How many Manhattans tonight, then, Deb?”

Deb holds her glass up. “I am on my second, and I will not be exceeding three. We don’t need a repeat of Christmas.”

“Aw,” Joel complains, tutting, “I liked hammered Deb.”

“That’s ‘cause you didn’t have to deal with hungover Deb,” you mutter, and she shoots you a look.

Joel smiles at you, takes a step closer as Deb and Martha begin comparing past hangovers. He leans forward, waves the fifteen-year-old down, and asks for a beer. As he leans back, you notice the weight of his wrist on your right hip. Nicely done.

“You know there are four guys in the bathroom doing coke?”

“I hope to God that’s all they’re doin’. I don’t need another orgyhappenin’ at one of these things.”

You giggle like a fucking schoolgirl. He looks pleased with himself, and you instantly regret it. You try to play it off by lifting your glass back to your lips.

Joel’s studying you, though, mapping every inch of your face. Watching your mouth as it curves around the shape of the glass, your tongue licking your lips after your sip. He tracks the glass as you set it back down on the bar, then his eyes trail along your arm to your dress, and your stomach leaps.

He looks so fucking good, it sends another wave of energy through your body. Dark hair lined with grey, beard much the same. Strong jaw, lips wetting with every sip of beer he takes, dark eyes flitting across yours, holding your stare long enough to melt you a little, and then dipping just before you can read the thoughts behind them.

His skin a little tanned, his neck thick with muscle. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, you’re so close. Close enough that you could lean up, part your lips and sink your teeth under his ear, suck a mark there, taste him on your tongue.

Your head cocks after a few minutes silence, just the two of you enjoying the fucking look of each other. You lean a little against his arm, steady around your back.

“I hate work parties,” you sigh.

Joel scoffs. “Free alcohol, nice penthouse. Cocaine, if you want it. What’s not to like?”

You narrow your eyes and he laughs for real.

“I hate ‘em, too, baby. Gotta keep up appearances, though, don’t we?”

Baby. This fucker.

“Do we?” you squeak, after a few seconds dazed.

He shrugs. “’s what I hear.”

He’s so close you can smell the beer on his tongue. It makes your heart quicken, your body hum with energy. That could just be the alcohol in your system, though, right?

Who are you kidding? It’s fucking Joel doing it to you.

You have no idea how long he was here before you arrived. He left the office around six, and you presumed he’d come straight here to check everything was in order before guests started arriving. How many beers has he had? Is he just drunk, feeling up on you with liquid courage?

You’re mulling over the thought when a pair of hands clamp down on Joel’s shoulders and his hold on your waist loosens. He mumbles an apology as he’s dragged away by a couple of loose-collared, baggy-suit drunks. You shake your head in response, trying to be cool – It’s all good, man. I’m good. I’m not totally fawning over you right now, no way.

Deb swings her barstool around when she notices you’re on your own, inviting you back into their conversation. Thirty seconds into talking about childhood pets, you’re wishing Joel was back around you, igniting your skin and peaking your adrenaline. Max the Pomeranian is a nice picture; Joel’s nicer.

Martha says something with a hand motion, and Deb nods, elbow knocking into yours.

“What?”

She nods toward the balcony. “We’re headin’ out for a smoke, you comin’?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll save your seats.”

They nod and wander off between a crowd, swallowed up by bodies in the direction of the open sliding doors, the blinking lights of the skyline ahead.

You’re twirling the base of your empty glass around on its napkin when you feel that same heat behind you again, and a hand rests on the small of your back.

“Coat,” Joel mutters, pulling his suit jacket on.

“Huh?”

“Get your coat. Everyone’s headin’ across the street.”

“Why is everyone heading across the street?”

He shrugs. “Afterparty, I guess.”

“It’s a work function. It’s like–” you check your phone, “–oh, fuck, it’s almost midnight.” You screw your face up, watching as the small crowd slowly melts away through the suite doors.

“I know. I throw a good party, right?”

“So good, people are leaving it.”

He tuts. “Coat. Now.”

“I didn’t bring one.”

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“You told me the party was here. I didn’t think we’d be walking all over town.”

“’s not all over town, baby,” Joel murmurs with a sigh. “Here.”

He peels the jacket off his shoulders and you hold a hand out to stop him.

“Joel, it’s fine, it’s–”

“Quit moanin’,” he groans as he throws it over your shoulders. He scoops your hair and pulls it softly out from under the collar. “Alright? C’mon.”

He takes your hand and leads you past some stragglers down the hall toward the elevator, where a group are waiting for the doors to open.

“Tight squeeze, Miller,” some dude chuckles as you follow Joel in, his hand still gripping yours.

He turns, backing into the corner, pulling you with him until your back is flush against his chest.

His hands drop to your hips. You swallow back a scream.

One of the accountants is stood in front of your – Harriet? Helen? Something beginning with H – anyway, she keeps knocking back into you, pushed by the sway of the packed elevator. It means you knock a little into Joel, and feel his chin on the crown of your head.

You turn ever so slightly to mumble an apology to him, but when you feel his breath on the shell of your ear, your words die in your throat.

“Hazel?” – That’s her fucking name – Joel reaches around you to tap her shoulder, and her bobbed haircut swings when she turns. “Did you get those balance sheets yet?”

“Not yet, Joel,” she tells him, and your face prickles with heat.

“No? That’s weird.” Joel’s grip tightens on your hips, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. In a low whisper, only to you, he says, “Thought I asked to have ‘em sent over by this afternoon.”

You muster up the courage to reply with a deep breath. From the corner of your mouth, through gritted teeth, you tell him, “That was before you forced me to sit in on a buyers’ meeting.”

You feel his chest rumble between your shoulder blades as he laughs. The elevator shudders to a stop and the doors slide open; the crowd spills out.

You step forward, ahead of Joel, and make it maybe three steps before he’s back on you, an arm draped over your shoulders. You reach up and take his hand, leaning against his strong torso to let him guide you toward the exit.

No idea what makes you do it. Maybe you’re drunk. Maybe not only on alcohol.

You’re the last of the pack, stumbling over air across the gleaming floor toward the revolving door, which Joel pushes open for you. The cool night breeze hits you as you slip out.

The crowd ahead are rushing across the street, yelling and whooping as they go. It’s juvenile, a little cringe. A bunch of rich corporates skipping across the street toward cheap alcohol and peanuts. You’d care more about the way it looks if you were sober.

Joel’s hand finds yours again and he’s leading you down the steps, cutting between parked cars toward the dive bar. You link your other arm around his elbow and he glances down, noting it. You wish the walk was longer.

A flickering fluorescent light drowns you both in a red glow, and Joel pushes the doors open. The place is flooded with half of your party, drowning booths, leaning against the bar, dancing in any open floorspace.

The floor is sticky, the bar dim. Joel takes you over to the same crowd he introduced you to earlier, and makes space for you to sit. You slide along the booth to the wall and he follows, squeezing up to you to let two more in after him.

“Beers?” a guy with a loose tie asks, to a chorus of yeses and a show of thumbs up. Mitch? Mark?

You tug Joel’s jacket from your shoulders – the movement nudges him and he turns to lift it from your back and tuck it behind you, brushing the hair off your shoulders. You smile in thanks, and his hand falls back onto your leg.

It takes you a few minutes to notice it this time. The gentle squeeze of his fingers around your thigh, the way it slowly bumps up each time he adjusts in his seat or shifts to allow space for someone else to join the booth.

His hand moves slowly, dangerously close to pulling your skirt up with it. Mitch or Mark returns with your beers and you take a massive swig, nerves and anticipation and fucking need for Joel to keep doing what he’s doing, taking over.

Under lights blurred by the alcohol in your system, the table buzzes with energy and chatter and laughter. There are posters and stickers all over the walls, graffiti of names and initials, numbers and dates scored into the walls. Joel traces them with his finger and you laugh at some of the messages.

“Lydia and Jack,” you mumble, “12-24-19. Wonder what happened then.”

“Bathroom sex,” Joel replies, eyes scanning the wall.

You scoff, beer to your lips. “On Christmas Eve?”

He nods, like it’s obvious. “Magical time ‘n all.”

You look past him with a smile to the opposite side of the bar where, through silhouetted bodies, you notice a jukebox.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your eyes widen, your mouth agape.

Joel follows your eyeline and then twists back around. “C’mon,” he says, taking your hand and motioning for the others to let you by. He drags you over to the machine, lighting your faces up in yellow light, and your drunk eyes scan the screen.

“Nope." You swipe Joel’s hand away right before he can pick some Pet Shop Boys song.

“Really?”

“Good, but not the vibe,” you tell him, and budge him out of the way with your hip. He sways off, laughing, and leans a palm against the jukebox, his chest on your back for the second time tonight. As your tired eyes scan the songs, Joel’s chin rests on your shoulder.

He’s judging every fucking song you linger on. “Queen? Little before your time.”

“Dick.”

“Fleetwood Mac. Definitely before your time.”

“The entire fucking jukebox is before my time, dude. Shut up. These are good songs.”

You settle on a track and turn to face him. He has you almost fucking pressed against the box.

“Change, please.”

“Oh, I’m payin’, am I?”

“Mhm. Your work party, your wallet.”

He sighs and pushes a fist into his pocket for coins, tossing a quarter into your outstretched palm. You turn back and select your song, put the money in, and the old machine barks out the intro.

Joel sighs, shaking his head. “AC/DC? That’s your thing?”

“It’s not yours?” You’re taking him by the hand between bodies, swaying as you go.

He’s laughing, following you until you’re in the middle of the cramped bar, chest to chest, moving together. His hands find your waist again and this time you don’t even flinch; your fingers trail up his shirt, across his chest, settle on his collar.

You fucking swear he’s leaning in, each beat of the song drawing his jaw closer to yours. If you weren’t in a room full of co-workers, you’d probably let him kiss you.

I mean, what you’re doing right now is hardly innocent anyway. His hands are splayed on your lower back, your hips flat against his, rubbing, dancing. Your head rolls back and your lips are under his chin, smiling up at him and singing along. Joel sings the words straight back, your breath meeting and mingling in the tiny gap between your lips.

As the song ends, it fades into another. And another, and another. It’s two in the morning before your group of partiers begin to call taxis. You stumble out of the sweaty bar with an arm linked through Deb’s, still singing along to Whitney as you catch your breath.

She staggers off to a quieter part of the street to call a cab, and you hang around under the red light waiting for her. Joel’s stood at the curb; the back door of his sleek black Rolls-Royce open.

“Where you goin’?” he asks.

“Deb’s callin’ a cab,” you reply, arms folded, shoulders hunched.

Joel shakes his head. “Get in.”

“It’s cool, I’m jumping in with those guys. Thanks, though–”

“Baby,” Joel holds a hand out, “get in.”

Your eyes trace from his palm all the way up his sleeve, to his tired, handsome face. You’re sobering up. He looks clearer. Maybe that’s just the streetlights.

“Get you home in five minutes. C’mon.”

You swivel around to look for Martha and Deb, but they’re nowhere to be seen. The cab will come, they’ll assume you’re staying a while, and get in. No big deal, right?

Well. Stepping into your boss’s car after a night of highly inappropriate touching is kind of a big fucking deal.

That’s why you do it. Waddle over to him, take his hand, let him guide you to the car. You swing a leg in and slip across the seats, admiring the ceiling dotted with hundreds of tiny white lights, like you’re staring straight up at the night sky.

They blur through your drunken gaze, which doesn’t pull from them until you feel the weight of Joel on your right and hear the door slam shut.

“Mind puttin’ the partition up, Rand?” Joel’s voice says, though you mostly hear the vibrations through his chest, where your head is lying. His arm slips around your back, pulling you closer into him as the two of you are granted privacy by the quiet whir of the screen closing.

“Good night?” Joel asks, lips on your hair.

You nod. “You?”

“Mhm.”

His fingers are drawing shapes on your left hip. His right hand intertwines with yours. Your left hand starts to wander.

You liked his hand on you. Liked feeling his grip there. Wanted him to keep moving it up, wanted to see how far he’d take it. So, you put your own hand on the inside of his thigh, just like he did. Starting at the knee, and slowly sliding north. Joel’s breath tightens, his chest lifts, his jaw ticks.

The movement knocks you sober for a couple seconds. You realize what you’re doing. You draw your hand back.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

He unlinks your hands and places a steady palm over your withdrawn fist.

“’s okay, baby. You can do that if you want to.”

The drawl of his voice makes your eyes roll back, your heart leap. Your fucking legs clench.

You let him replace your hand where it was, and his legs widen a little. His crotch more available. You’re watching what you’re doing like you’re not even in your own body; watching it how Joel must be, thinking Higher, higher, keep going, keep doing that.

You lift your heavy head, resting it on his shoulder, and look up into his brown eyes. He’s framed by the starlit ceiling of the car. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, face lined with his expression.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod lazily. “Tired.”

Just then his hand takes yours again and shifts it softly, stopping what was probably about to happen but still holding onto you, still wanting your fingers locked in his. Not halting the train, just switching tracks.

It’s not a long journey, certainly not as long as you’d like, until you’re parked on your street. Rand lowers the partition to call back, and Joel thanks him.

“You okay gettin’ to your apartment?”

“Yup,” you groan, hoisting yourself out of the comfortable car.

“Sure? I can walk you up if you want.”

You bend down, one arm on the roof of the car. “I’m good, thanks. Thanks for the ride, Miller.”

“Be safe, baby.”

“You be safe, too. Bye.”

You throw the door closed and meander off up the steps toward your building. Joel’s car doesn’t roll off until your elevator arrives and you disappear inside.

You spend all weekend in bed, recovering not only from the party but from the week of work you’d endured. You keep yourself busy, though. There’s a Desperate Housewives marathon on TV. And when you’re not watching that, your hand is stuffed down your pants, Joel on your mind.

All. Fucking. Weekend.

In the shower, you’re picturing him on his knees in front of you, lapping you up. Hands gripping your thighs, draped over his shoulders. Your hand plants firmly against the wet tile when you cum, your orgasm threatening to collapse you in a heap.

In bed, you’re on top of him, knees either side of his waist, letting him buck his hips up until you’re screaming, covering him in your wet. Your vibrator battery dies by Saturday night.

Monday morning, you’re getting ready to leave for the office, and need to take ten minutes out to relieve the ache between your legs again. This time, he has you pressed against your bedroom wall, fucking you quick and messy, cumming deep inside you before he’ll let you head out.

It’s just a crush, right? It’s just because of how touchy you guys were on Friday. When you were drunk. And in a cramped, dark dive bar. Everybody gets crushes. And who wouldn’t, on a six-foot-whatever man with a jawline that could cut glass, hands that take a grip of you with minimal effort, a cock probably the size of…

No. Nope. That’s enough. Cut that the fuck out.

It’s just a crush. That’s what you keep telling yourself in the elevator, lights counting down the floors until you’re going to see Joel again. Is the sparkling feeling in your chest fear, anticipation, or excitement?

And is your cunt beginning to throb again?

You give a curt nod to Martha as you arrive, hauling your bag a little further up your shoulder and adjusting the folders in your arms on your hips.

“Where’d you go?” she asks, eyes still on the computer in front of her. Her chin propped on her elbow, face inches from the screen, reading something intently.

“Huh?”

“On Friday. We couldn’t find you when the cab arrived.”

“Oh, I, uh,” you clear your throat, “Joel gave me a ride. Yeah.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Generous of ‘im.”

“Yup.”

“He’s in the conference room waitin’ for you.”

“Cool, thanks.”

You hover for a few seconds, then take your cue to leave. You hurry over to the conference room door, knocking twice before pushing it open.

Joel’s sat at the top of the table, leant back in his chair, feet up on the wood in front of him. You feel like you could collapse.

“Mornin’,” he says, over the dull droning from the phone. Your eyes flit down to it, a question, and he answers, “weekend update.”

“Anything good?”

He shakes his head, leaning forward to hit the unmute button, affirm whatever the hell the other dude had been saying, say his goodbyes, and then hang up.

“Feelin’ fresh?” he asks when he’s sat back.

You take a deep breath and wobble your head as an answer, laying files and folders out on the table in preparation for the meeting Joel has this morning.

“That bad, huh?”

“I was fine by Saturday afternoon. How were you?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t that drunk.”

Yeah. Sure, Joel. Your fingers took the brunt of the alcohol.

He stands up, wanders around the table to join you. Your fingers begin to tremble at the thought of him so close. Your thighs heat.

“This all of it?” he asks. He’s closer than you thought.

“Y-yep. Some copies there, too, if anyone needs a spare.”

His hand slips up between your shoulder blades, patting you gently at the base of your neck.

“Good job, baby.”

You almost fucking shudder. Your stomach jolts, your chest tightens. The ache between your legs pangs, reminding you it’s there, even though you can’t fucking do anything about it.

You spin around, settling back against the table, ankles crossed. Tense.

“How long do you reckon it’ll go on?”

“No idea. Why? Somewhere you gotta be?”

You shake your head. “Just organizing lunch ‘n stuff for you.”

“That can wait until after.”

“I’ll have it ready for you comin’ out. Be easier.”

He steps forward. Your heart stutters.

“You’ll be in here with me.”

You cock your head. “Again? What– Why?”

“I need you in here. To take–”

“–minutes? Yeah, figured as much. You gonna have me up here all night again writing ‘em up?”

He smirks, dimples in his cheeks. There are two options here: either smack him, or jump his bones – he deserves the first and you deserve the latter.

“I like having you in my meetings, darlin’,” he says, as the door handle turns, “stops me wanting to blow my brains out.”

Martha enters and Joel slots in alongside you on the table. She sets a tray with a coffee pot and packets of sugar and milk on the sideboard.

Your head is fucking dizzy. There’s a ringing in your ears. Energy sparkling in waves from the tops of your thighs all through you. Joel’s shoulder brushing against yours, his eyes boring into the side of your face.

You won’t look at him. Won’t take your eyes off of Martha, laying paper coffee cups out in rows, her back to you guys.

Joel lays a palm flat on your thigh, rounding the curve until his hand is firm between your legs, threatening to push your skirt up. You feel his breath hot on your neck, his voice like honey in your ear.

“Makes for a nice view, too.”

You whip around to glare at him. He leans back, chuckling to himself.

Through gritted teeth, you whisper, “Can I talk to you? In private?”

Joel shrugs, excuses you both to Martha, and then follows at your heels out of the conference room and over to his office door. You waltz in without permission, shoving the door open and waiting for him to close it behind himself.

Joel’s office is bright, clean. Giant windows lining three walls, huge desk with an even bigger bookcase behind. Two black leather couches opposite, facing one another with a glass coffee table between. Soft white rugs, obnoxiously huge lampshades, small fern plants dotted here and there. You found and booked the interior designer for him, and not a day’s gone by since that you don’t remind him of how nice a job you did.

Today, though, you break that streak. You round on him as soon as he closes the tall, wooden door behind him.

“Will you fucking quit it?”

“Fucking quit what, baby?” He’s almost laughing, strolling around his desk and settling into his leather chair, leaning back. Casual. Fucking – arrogant.

You stammer, holding up a shaky finger. “Okay, first of all – that. Don’t call me baby, that’s not appropriate. Second – the teasing?”

“I don’t get it, you liked me callin’ you baby on Friday night.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and give him a furious stare. He holds his hands up.

“My mistake.”

You stalk over to the windows separating Joel’s office from the reception area. Martha’s still in the conference room, the door ajar. You haul the shades shut to give yourselves some privacy.

“Stop – fucking with me. Stop it. We were drunk on Friday night. It wasn’t– Stop.”

“’m not fucking with you.” He leans his head to scratch his eyebrow. He repeats it when you turn away, hands flying up in the air. “I’m not.”

“Let’s just forget Friday happened, can we do that?”

Wandering around Joel’s office isn’t doing anything to relieve the weight between your legs. If anything, it’s making it worse. You make your way back to his desk and place your hands down on the wood, leaning over.

“Wh…what’s next on the agenda?” you ask, almost panting, your eyes closing.

You hear Joel’s chair rock when his weight leaves it. His footsteps pad across soft carpet, around the desk. Nearing you. They come to a halt and you feel the air stop short, right behind you.

For someone not trying to fuck with you, he’s doing an awfully good job at it.

You surrender, leaning back, your shoulders making contact with his chest. Then his hands find your hips, light, gentle. No pressure on them, not until your ass presses against his crotch and your head tilts, allowing Joel to hook his chin over your shoulder.

He’s hard, under his pants. Against you. You can feel it, still, steady. Rock solid beneath four layers of clothing.

His hands lift from your waist and glide up your shirt front, your stomach tensing when they brush over it. They come to rest over your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples through your shirt. And you fucking let him; lifting your right arm to hook around his jaw and pull him closer into your neck, where his lips leave soft, wet marks.

It feels like the first gasp of fresh, sea air after being underwater. The first gulp of chilled water after a hike. The first wave of aircon in the car. It’s relief. It’s desperate, borderline orgasmic relief.

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more.

You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin.

“I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?”

“Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” you repeat, and he nods. You take a breath. “S-sounds good.”

Joel’s hands find the hem of your skirt and start to pull it up your legs, painfully slow, revealing more and more of your bare thighs as he goes. He’s rubbing them, massaging until your skirt sits on your hips, little black panties exposed. His hand comes down to cup you, fingers gently applying pressure to your clit through the lace.

You moan, finally being touched by him again, finally feeling his hands on you where you need it most. Already, he’s doing better, making you feel better than you could ever by yourself. Than you did, by yourself. Involuntarily, you breathe out, “Daddy…”

Joel’s fingers pick up the pace. He fucking loves it.

“That feel good, baby? Like it like that? Tell me how it feels.”

“So – fucking – good,” you whisper, legs parting more to grant him better access. He dips his hand lower, thumb staying planted on your lace-covered clit, fingers shifting the fabric under your entrance aside.

He toys with you first, middle finger swaying back and forth through your folds, collecting slick, spreading it around. Then, a second finger, pushing upward, dangerously close to entering you. You’re gasping, leaning into him, letting his strong form keep you upright.

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s whispering into your ear. “You ain’t gotta do nothin’, just enjoy.”

And then he pushes up, two thick, curled fingers entering your cunt in one motion. He has you down to his knuckles, limp against his chest, mouth wide open in a silent gasp. Your head rolls to the side to watch him as he feels you for the first time, and his expression mirrors yours.

“So fuckin’ wet, babygirl,” he whispers, lips on your forehead.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whimper as his fingers press hard inside your soft pussy, starting to pump gently before picking up the pace and fucking you good.

The office is silent, save for your gasps and moans, and the wet sounds of Joel’s fingers in your cunt. He hums into your neck, thumb pressing hard against your clit, drawing tiny circles over the swollen bud.

It doesn’t take fucking long before you’re collapsing, walls clenching, teetering on the edge of your orgasm. It’s all that’s been on your mind for almost three days, all you’ve imagined, dreamt about, thought of.

Joel feels you, knows you’re close.

“Wanna cum all over daddy’s fingers, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you bite back a yelp, “so – close.”

“Know you are, baby. It’s okay, you can cum. Let me feel you.”

That coil, slowly winding since approximately nine-thirty on Friday night, not relieved by your hands, your toys, or your fucking pillows, snaps in one second. The tension breaks across your stomach. Your legs give; Joel’s free hand wraps around your waist to hold you upright.

You throw your head back against his shoulder again, jaw slack with a moan you know you can’t give voice to. Joel fucks you all the way through it, fingers coated in your cum only to dive straight back in, wetter and slicker than before.

There are stars in your vision. You can’t feel between your legs. The office is slowly blinking back into view, but Joel gives you no time to recover.

He pushes you face down onto his desk roughly, hastily, like someone’s about to wander through his door any second. One ear pressed to the cold wood, you hear his belt clink, feel the teeth of his zipper graze your thighs. Hear his deep breaths as he drags his pants and boxershorts down to free his cock.

You’ve never seen him, obviously. You’ve pictured it, dreamt up what it would look like with your fingers deep inside yourself. And from this angle you still don’t see it, but when the weight of it springs against your ass, when Joel lines himself up and his tip dips between your cum-covered folds, you fucking feel it.

His thick head pushing slightly into your entrance, coating him in your slick. He’s big. You moan at the time he’s taking to just shove into you; it’s probably seconds, but it feels like fucking hours.

“I hear ya, I know,” he’s saying, but your hearing’s starting to fade. Blood pumping through your head, white noise rattling against your eardrums.

He pushes in, length separating your clenched walls, entering your wet, warm cunt with a deep growl from Joel’s lips and a gasp from yours. You open up around him, swelling as he pushes deeper and deeper.

“So – fuckin’ – tight for me, baby,” he groans, hands on your hips pulling you back onto his length. “You feel that? Feel how tight you are?”

“Mhm,” you reply, the stretch of his thick cock burning and igniting you in flame. Your eyes screw shut as he keeps pushing, further than you ever thought anyone could, until his tip kisses your cervix and you whine.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, pausing and placing a steady hand on the small of your back. “We don’t need anyone out there knowin’ what we’re doin’.”

“So good, daddy,” you whimper quietly, and he knows. He fucking knows.

He begins to draw back, hips leaving your ass, cock pulling out of your pussy. Your eyes roll closed, missing him the more he withdraws. Before he’s fully gone, he snaps back inside, entering you harder, faster, deeper.

You gasp, knuckles whitening with the grip of your balled fists. You bend one arm, biting into your sleeve to stop your whimpers from slipping under the door.

A couple more thrusts and Joel’s fucking you. Hard. He’s fucking huge, so huge it blurs the edges of your vision every time his cock hits against your cervix. He’s almost fucking whimpering behind you, growling your name with every stroke, groaning each time he bottoms out inside you and your tight hole wraps around his length.

You can feel the edge of the table bruising your pelvis, and it feels so fucking good. Everything about this feels good. Joel’s cock stretching you out, his hands gripping you roughly, your own hands outstretched to hold onto the desk for some sort of stability.

The only thought going through your head, only words your lips can part to utter: daddy daddy daddy.

“Good girl,” Joel hums, your moans like music to his ears. “Good fuckin’ girl. Know how naughty you are for me?”

You smile. “Yeah, daddy.”

This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever fucking done. Sure, you love sex, especially when it’s rough. But nothing you’ve ever done with anyone else, nothing you’ve ever had done to you by anyone else, compares to being bent over your boss’s desk and fucked dumb by him.

Calling him daddy, corporate managers slowly filing into a conference room just outside. Only an unlocked door separating them from you, writhing and throbbing under Joel’s cock, his rough hands on your hips, your name passing his lips in breathy moans.

Is it wrong? Yes. Do you care? Fuck no.

You know he’s close; his thrusts become sloppy, hips start hammering against you.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” he grunts, skin slapping.

You’re on the pill, and if you answered honestly, you’d tell him to finish inside you. But you know that if he wanted to do that, he’d just fucking do it. Wouldn’t ask. And you’re not prepared to waste time arguing.

“My m-mouth.”

“C’mere.” Joel slips out of you with no effort, you’re so fucking soaked for him, and spins you around. A gentle hand on your shoulder, he pushes you onto your knees, free hand jacking his cock over you.

It’s the first time you see him, fist tugging up and down a thick, veiny shaft; swollen, reddened tip spilling precum which his thumb collects and drags down his length, gleaming with your wet.

On instinct, you push forward, one hand coming to rest on his thigh, the other taking over from his on his dick. You pump him a few times, and then open your mouth wide enough to take him all the way until he’s brushing the back of your throat.

With a choke, you begin bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollow, breathing deep through your nose. Joel moans, head rolling back, hand coming to hold your hair in a fist. He drags you back and forth a few times before he begins to shudder and you draw back, holding him steady on your swollen bottom lip.

He looks down at you and your eyes lock as he cums all over your tongue. You moan as your mouth fills with his warm, salty load. When his cock stills and he stops spilling all over you, you lean back and close your mouth, licking your lips and swallowing him.

“Aw, babygirl,” he coos, stroking your hair. “Good job. Such a good girl for me.”

You both take a few seconds to catch your breath before Joel’s hands hook under your arms and he pulls you back up, letting you lean against his desk.

Still in a daze, you feel him tug your skirt back down, fix your shirt. Tuck your hair behind your ears, wipe either saliva or cum from your lips.

“Good?” he asks, and you lace your fingers in his.

Your breath is still shaky, but through a sigh, you say, “Good.”

He nods. “Can hear Ken out front, must all be arrivin’.” He pulls you over to the door.

His fingers wrap around the handle, free hand coming up to cup your cheek. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. You open your mouth and let his tongue past, moaning into the wet, messy kiss.

Something in you almost wants to laugh, thinking about the fact you let him fuck you before you’d even kissed him.

When he pulls away, your hands take hold of his jaw, keeping him at your height.

“Have a good meeting,” you whisper, pecking him on the lips, “text me what you want for lunch.”

He growls, yanking the door open and passing by you, granting your wish to sit this one out. Something in you tells you not to wander far, though.

He’ll probably want to blow off some steam when he’s done.

----------

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo

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honeyedmiller · 28 days

Text

Sir

ceo!joel miller x f!reader drabble

warnings: implied sexual thoughts / fantasies, sir kink, boss x employee, joel is a horny southern gentleman (real), implied smut, no use of y/n.

word count: 567

rating: explicit. 18+, minors dni.

It was like clockwork.

That three letter word that you’d greet him with every single morning, without fail.

Good morning, sir.

…Sir.

It made his cock twitch in his slacks.

He found the whole thing a little ridiculous; you were innocent and kind in your pleasantries and greetings toward him. Yet he, the CEO of Miller Contracting, couldn’t keep his dick contained every time that word slipped past your lips.

It was like sweet honey oozing from your tongue, and he wanted to lick up every single drop of it.

He’d imagine that one day, your soft looking hands would knock on his door and you’d peek your pretty face in to ask him an important question, and he’d coax you in with that million dollar smile and thick, charming drawl.

You’d walk up to his desk, heels clicking on the floor as you stop just before the massive mahogany that sits near a floor-to-ceiling window which emanates a light that illuminates your face. He’d get a good look at you in your button down shirt and pencil skirt, honey brown eyes drinking in your figure as you watch him intently.

You’d quirk a brow at him as to almost challenge him to do something he shouldn’t do, but god, all he wants is to have his hands all over you, in you, letting your body as a whole consume the very being he is.

He wanted to become intoxicated by you; a drug he couldn’t give up. Nothing even a goddamn NA meeting could fix.

He’d pull you down to sit on his lap—no, straddle him—and you’d rut your hips against his, your skirt riding up to your hips. You’d kiss him ferociously; like you couldn’t survive without his lips on yours. Like you couldn’t breathe without his mouth on you.

You’d moan his name as he can feel the wetness in your panties, your aching core begging to be touched by him. You’d beg and plead for him—please sir, please touch me—and he’d oblige. You’d beg him with pathetic pleas spilling past your lips for him to fill you with his aching, pulsating cock. He’d want to ruin you.

You’d let him.

He’d make you feel things no other man has made you feel. He’d leave you unsatiated, though. You’d want to come back for more.

You’d always come back for more.

And a knock on the door startles him from his perfect daydream; one that has him hard and has precome sticking to his boxers. He welcomes whoever it is into his office.

It’s you.

You peek your head through the door with a small smile, and he swears he gets a moment of déjà vu.

You step into his office and close the door behind you, leaning up against it as you stare at him intently. You look down at the hard-on in his slacks, and you lick your lips as your eyes flit to his darkening gaze, dangerous and fueled with pure desire.

Come here, he says.

Yes sir, you oblige.

And fuck, he thought he was losing it when he realized his fantasy was materializing.

Maybe you knew exactly what saying that damned word would do to him. Maybe you knew he’d like it. You had him wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.

It was easy. Too easy.

Maybe you weren’t so innocent, after all.

And maybe Joel fucking loved it.

divider by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller drabble #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal imagines #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagines #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #ceo!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal characters

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pedgito · 4 months

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘, 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 | BFD!Joel x Fem!Reader

summary | the rich father of your bestfriend, sarah — joel miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. [12k]

pairing | joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, bfd!joel, ceo!joel, mentions of reader growing up poor/absent parents (joel is ridiculously loaded, it's fic y'all let me live lol), sneaking around, age gap (not explicitly specified, but reader is in final year of college and joel is probs late 40s/50s), vacations, gift-giving, unprotected piv, come swallowing, daddy issues if you squint, one (1) pussy slap, oral (f receiving), semi-public fucking

author’s note | anyways, here’s this. big age gap, some power dynamic stuff but not really. if you don’t like, don’t read & all that jazz. love you babies. xo.

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic recs

There was no hiding who Joel Miller was to the town of Austin—a pioneer in the community for rebuilding and building upon the surrounding shopping areas and neighborhoods to save the town from complete gentrification. He owned three companies at this point—one manned by his brother Tommy who dealt with larger businesses, handled the biggest amount of workload when it came to dealing with customers. The other was handled by his wife Maria, more often communicating with smaller businesses in the area. Mom and Pop shops, family owned and locally sourced shops. And Joel dealt with the community directly, building houses at an affordable rate that kept his business booming and well above the surrounding competition.

He was so sought after that the idea of him felt like an enigma.

But, to you—he was just Sarah’s dad. For years you never had the pleasure of meeting him, with his constantly busy schedule he was often away when you came to visit Sarah on their massive—almost too comically large piece of land on the outskirts of Austin, Texas.

A large two-story farmhouse that seemed like something right out of a storybook—pristine and in perfect condition, surrounded by what felt like miles of grassy land and fencing. Horses, chickens, goats, growing piglets that were taken care of by Sarah and Joel themselves.

You’ve known Sarah since you were fourteen, aware of her upbringing and the type of family she came from, but it never deterred her from being the kindest friend you’ve had. And your shared, similar interest led to an easy friendship that lasted well into college. Sarah was also aware of your…less than ideal family situation, living under the roof of a single parent household, given you were an only child it wasn’t horrible—but your father was a drunk and didn’t manage his money well and that often meant going without. It didn’t matter what, but there was always something lacking that you wish you didn’t have to make up for with your already overwhelming amount of college work and lingering debt.

You didn’t have anywhere to go, unfortunately.

But, Sarah was always there.

And it isn’t until your final year of college that you find yourself finally meeting the once mysterious Joel Miller, remembering that Sarah told you something about how he was trying to take a step back, allowing more responsibility on his trusting employees to head the company while he took a step back and managed everything as a whole from a distance—less involved, more time at home around Sarah, it was a win win situation.

With both of you working toward similar degrees, it was helpful and convenient to share notes and study as often as you could, especially as your final term papers were nearing and looming like a dark cloud.

It’s an unsuspecting Thursday night when you and Sarah are pausing the heavy studying to cook a quick dinner when Joel walks into the kitchen, approaching the island and nearly tilting your entire existence on this earth on an axis. Your breath catches briefly, eyes dragging over his figure. You’ve seen pictures—family vacations that Sarah has shown you when they were flying across the country over summer breaks and you were stuck at home.

But, nothing compared to the real thing.

His hair is grown out, curling around his ears. A warm, soft brown that is styled and shaped so perfectly it seems unreal—but the loose curl that falls over his forehead gives it away. There’s a deep cut in his silk-pressed shirt that hangs loosely on his frame, some abstract pattern that shouldn’t work as well as it does on him, but his tan skin compliments the deep tones and varying designs. The faint dusting of chest hair is obscured by the chains that hang in the space the silk-button up creates where he lacks the ability to fasten them, or rather chooses not to.

And you try not to let your gaze linger on the cut of his jeans as they cling snug to his legs, cuffed at the ankles and showcasing a pair of—what you can only suspect are new loafers. A dark chocolate brown accented with a gold metal piece along the center to complement his jewelry around his neck and the few rings placed meticulously on his fingers.

It’s no secret his ring finger sits untouched, lacking the heavy weight of a significant other's mark. Sarah mentioned her mom dying young, much like your own—maybe that’s why you two bonded so easily.

“Got enough for your old man?” Joel questions curiously, tapping away at his phone meticulously before pocketing it, eyebrows raised in question.

“You hate boxed mac and cheese,” Sarah argues flippantly, flicking the empty box at her father across the counter, “so no, I don’t.”

“No, babygirl—I just hate the powder kind.” He flicks it back just as easily and you note how easy their relationship feels, like this is how things should be.

Sarah laughs, scrunching her nose up in amusement. “Charming, isn’t he?”

Oh—she’s talking to you? You look at her for half a second, confused, before you’re quickly nodding in agreement without fully listening to what she had asked.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to lie.” She assures, stirring the noodles in the pot over the stove.

Your gaze lingers selfishly, catching the faint twitch of a smile on Joel’s face as he catches you looking. It’s nothing more than a friendly smile, comforting rather than disarming.

“You know—Sarah never brings her friends around.” Joel starts begrudgingly, eyeing Sarah down before switching to you, “Seein’ as I’ve been hearing all about you for years now and I’m just now meetin’ you in the flesh.”

“Dad, stop scaring her.” Sarah gripes, searching around haphazardly for a couple of bowls, “seriously—just ignore him. He doesn’t know how to act now that he’s home more.”

Joel rolls his eyes dismissively, extending his hand in a kind gesture. You grab it hesitantly and he senses it, pointer finger dragging along the underside of your palm as he holds it delicately and bows his head.

“She’s just mad she can’t get rid of me now,” Joel tells you softly, nodding toward Sarah over your shoulder, “how’s the studying goin’?”

He doesn’t let go of your hand immediately and you don’t try to escape either, allowing the brief moment of lingering contact before you slip it away, shoving your hands into your back pockets.

“Fine.” Sarah’s response is clipped.

It’s stressful, if you’re being honest. But, you could see that Sarah didn’t want to relay that to her father, side-eyeing you wearily.

It’s the first of many interactions that led to the tiny crush you began to have for Joel Miller. Your once a week studies eventually turn into two or three times a week, desperate to spend as much time away from your own home situation as possible.

Eventually, it’s nearly an everyday thing. You and Sarah would finish your day of classes and drive the short distance to her house and spend most of the night studying. Gradually, you were introduced into their own routine. At first, Joel would offer to buy dinner and leave things be, allowing you the space you needed. But, it eventually delves into weekly dinners and sitting down as if you were a part of this pseudo-family situation you’ve interjected yourself into.

Sarah knew you didn’t like it at home, so it was never a problem. Joel caught on after a few weeks—noticing how you avoided any questions about yourself, your family, anything that would allow him any glimpse into who you were outside what Sarah had told him, which wasn’t much at all. He’s trying to make you feel welcomed and you can appreciate that.

You’ve offered to help pay for meals on multiple occasions, but it never works. Quickly thwarted off by Joel’s extended hand as he shoves your cash away, assuring you that it wasn’t your responsibility. This was his house, his gesture, and he didn’t want you to think you owed him anything.

Yet, something in you yearned to do so.

You wanted him to know just how grateful you were.

His curiosity about you comes to a head on a night after a few beers with friends, poker table trashed and the kitchen a mess. You were bringing down the trash from Sarah’s room, the shared dinner you two had had as a treat for your first day without studying—it was relaxing, mostly because your day had been spent here rather than home.

Joel gathers a few bottles in his large palm, slipping the lips of the bottle through spread fingers. “You two enjoyin’ yourselves?” He asks, looking at you casually. It was a question you’ve heard often, a simple conversation starter. And talking to Joel was much easier now.

You nod, lips pulled into a tight smile. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”

“C’mon now,” Joel jests, dropping the bottles into the trash, “none of that—it’s Joel. Shit makes me feel old, darlin’.”

The nickname wasn’t new either. He often called Sarah by her name or babygirl.

Darlin’ though, it was all you.

He takes the dirty plates from your hands and places them in the sink, palm extended against the ledge of the counter while he rests his other hand against his hip.

“How are you doin’?” He asks, voice softer but still gruff. “Not that you have to tell me, I just want to make sure you’re feelin’ comfortable here.”

“I’m okay,” You say through an unsure smile that Joel notes but doesn’t press on, “it’s just easier to study here—I’m sorry if I spend too much time around here. Feels like you should be charging me rent by now.”

“Not a chance in hell, darlin’.” Joel grins, shiny white teeth showing behind his smile. The small bit of his shirt that was tucked in came loose by the rub of his fingers at his hip and drawing your eyes to the skin briefly, “you’re always welcome here.”

And you hate the way you crave even an inkling of physical contact from him. A pat on the shoulder, a hug, a fucking kiss on the forehead. You weren’t his daughter, you didn’t want to be. But, there was something about Joel that you couldn’t pull away from, trying your best to keep it at bay.

“You know what,” Joel says suddenly, pulling your lingering gaze back on his face, feeling guilty as you chewed on your bottom lip, “why don’t you come on vacation with Sarah and I next month?’

“Mr—Joel, that’s—” You’re quickly silenced by his hand actually pressing against your shoulder now—and fuck, when had he gotten so close?

“Sarah was thinkin’ about asking you anyways. We’re gonna take a trip to the Keys,” He rubs gently at the junction in your shoulder, the thick expanse of his thumb pressed against bare skin, “—just consider it, alright? Lord knows you both need a break as much as I do.”

The thing about Joel is that he was such a good father, something you haven’t been privy to in the couple decades and some few years you’ve been alive. You want to feel jealous and angry, spiteful that this was something you couldn’t have naturally. But, it feels nothing like that.

The crush you had on Joel was dangerous. But, that was all it was. A craving to be around Joel, to seek his approval and gain his trust. And bask in the care he provides. A simple case of daddy issues that you couldn’t admit to yourself was actually happening.

You shouldn’t entertain the idea.

You shouldn’t even consider it.

“Oh—okay. Yeah, as long as Sarah is alright with that.” You nod, a genuine, soft smile stretching across your face. Joel squeezes your shoulder tighter and you swear you feel it moving in closer, like he wants to hold you closer, cradle you in his hands. But, then the touch is gone and his fingers are running through his hair, curls separating through his fingertips.

“Alright then.” Joel says triumphantly, “You gonna be okay gettin’ home tonight?”

Sarah was driving you home soon, like usual. You nod.

“Good,” Joel nods, “Goodnight, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” You say sweetly, patting your hand against the countertop softly, unable to spare a look his way as you walk in the opposite direction.

But, he can’t help his own fleeting and inappropriate thoughts, eyes dragging along your figure as you walk away, hands gripping the countertop like a vice, internally kicking himself how indecent he was allowing himself to think about you. Still, it didn’t stop the thoughts from flooding in and if he found himself spread out on his sheets that night, cock held tight in his hands as he fucked himself into his fist—well, he could repent for it some other time.

You touch down in the early morning on a Sunday, still riddled with anxiety from the plane ride. Joel had tried his best to accommodate, even buying first class tickets despite his usual tendency to go business. He didn’t care much for amenities but he wanted to treat Sarah and you, making you feel guilty with how quickly your face lit up at the sight. Spacious seats stocked with gifts and snacks, a tiny television molded into the area, it felt like too much.

It was. But, Joel assured you it wasn’t.

There was little planned for the week you had to spend there and you had tried to scrounge up a little cash within the month you had to save, picking up a few extra shifts at your job and stowing it away for this—hoping you could treat yourself to something, anything. Even if it was just a stupid tourist shirt that cost an egregious amount of money.

Joel quickly snuffs out that idea, putting his foot down as he assured you that this trip was a treat. Not just for himself, but for all of you. You never asked how much money the Miller’s had, but it was clearly more than you could ever fathom to be imaginable. He yanks the black Amex from his wallet and hands it off to every waiting server and store owner you three come across.

It’s abundantly clear that they don’t worry about money in the sense that you do—it wasn’t unwelcomed, but it was an adjustment that took a couple days to get over, feeling shame for enjoying it. He’d paid for the plane fare, booked the hotels and the activities you had planned, made sure meals were paid for and then some, even allowing you and Sarah some spending money to go shopping for clothes or whatever you needed.

He didn’t ask, it didn’t matter. He just wanted you to feel welcomed. Like family…or something.

The trip is fairly harmless fun, a few swimming activities that tire you all out and lend to an early turn in on a couple nights, dinners that lended you to learn a lot more about Joel. Still, as much as Joel tried, you weren’t as open. Vague answers, sidewaying the conversation. He didn’t try to pry, though. And you were thankful for that.

But, with fairly harmless came a few instances that didn’t feel so.

The first comes in the deep end of the ocean, floating on a shared longboard in the midst of the calm waves, humid heat sticking to your skin. Fingers fiddling with the loosening tie around the back of your neck as Sarah wades off to the shore for a brief minute to reapply sunscreen. And maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but you see the lingering look Joel gives you, fingers curling subtly against the edge of the board.

“Can you help me?” You ask, slowly edging around the board until you’re beside him, turning before he has the opportunity to answer. “It’s hard to get it tight on my own.”

Joel clears his throat and offers a smile, “‘Course, chin down for me?” And you follow his lead, feeling his fingers brush against your neck and guide your head down, untying the loose not completely and feeling your swim top go slack, covered by the safety of the water and your back turned to him, but it doesn’t stop the touch of his fingertips against your skin as he ties the knot and tugs slightly, assuring that it was secure to his liking. You lift your head slowly when you feel his palm press flat against your back, fingers curling around the point where your shoulder meets your neck.

“Thanks, Joel.” You turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him, earning a small nod as his touch lingers, only loosening when you rescue your grip on the longboard in front of you.

“Enjoyin’ yourself so far?” He asks, always able to ease into steady conversation without missing a beat. “Any complaints?”

“Definitely,” You smile wide, huffing soft laugh through your nose as you shake your head, “I guess I do have one complaint, actually.” You tell him honestly, a subtle nervousness to your voice.

“Well, I’m all ears, darlin’.” He responds, leaning his elbow onto the board as it bobbed slightly.

“I just…you don’t have to pay for everything, Joel.” You find yourself rushing out the words, hoping that it wouldn’t cause an adverse reaction, but instead, Joel smiles wider.

“Look, I invited you on this trip,” Joel explains, “and that means you aren’t paying for a damn thing. Alright?”

You nod meekly, quieting down as Sarah waded back into the ocean toward you both.

With Joel, it was something you would have to learn to accept.

You try to ignore the lingering touch of his fingertips on your neck, but now it feels like a burn in your skin that would only get worse as time went on.

The second instance isn’t as much of a thing, rather than a moment.

Eyeing a sundress that resembled some of the similar outrageous patterning that Joel wore, shapes and blobs morphed around the material yet somehow managing to look chicer than anything you’ve ever come across, strappy and long and deep cut down the center. It wasn’t for modesty, you could assume that much. You run your fingers along the creases and stitching in the fabric, admiring it as you flipped the tag in your hand, immediately gawking at the price.

Joel had been lingering by, browsing the various knick knacks and souvenirs lining the shelves off the small store—all hand-made pieces that he could appreciate, but didn’t find any use for himself. And he’s watching you, has been for a while, noticing the way your eyes kept flicking back toward the dress despite your path around the store.

Joel casually follows the same path, taking a subtle peek at the tag. It was a few hundred dollars, but given the silkiness of the material and him being very familiar with the tone of pricing around the area, it wasn’t an outrageous ask. He slips the dress off the rack, careful as he removes it off the hanger and finds you separated from Sarah as you peruse down a wall of jewelry—some cheap and some not, looking around with no real want, just admiring.

He slips the dress into your hands, rough, overworked palms cupping your own as he makes you physically wrap your fingers around and claim the garment, chest to your back as he speaks, lips a hair's breadth away from your ear.

“It’s a pretty dress,” Joel says calmly, much calmer than your rapidly beating heart and the sudden uptick in your breathing, silk material spread out over your fingertips, “shame for it to go to waste, darlin’.”

“It’s expensive.” You argue, voice soft as he locks eyes with you in the mirror nestled in the nearest corner, “It’s nice to want things Joel, but I don’t need it.”

“I dunno,” He responds, unconvinced, “and—maybe I’m speaking out of turn but I think it’d look great on you.”

And you’ve never been more thankful of Sarah’s obliviousness to certain things, so wrapped up in her own shopping across the store that you two remained unsuspecting, eyes still locked on one another through the shared mirror.

He can see the way your body twitches at the comment, responds, but what he doesn’t understand is how it makes your cunt throb, solid body pressed against your back as he squeezes the backside of your hands with his palm. The willingness of contact was still fresh and new but it never made you feel unsafe—in fact, it had the opposite effect entirely.

Joel speaks again, directly to you in the mirror.

“I might just have to buy it for you, darlin’.” He says quietly, “You alright with that?”

You hesitate for a moment, but nod shakily. “Thank you, Joel.”

“Don’t need to keep thankin’ me.” Joel assures, “I know it’s implied.”

But, the instance that had you reeling for days after, still replaying it vividly in your mind, was a night near the end of your trip. Sarah had long gone to bed and you, riddled by insomnia, find yourself at the hallway vending machine, looking for a snack to cure your growing hunger.

Though, it seemed that Joel had the same idea—fork halfway into his mouth as he turned the corner, a sizable piece of chocolate cake inside of a small to-go tray, looking even guiltier as he caught sight of you, feeling like he really didn’t want to get caught like this. It makes you laugh into the palm of your hand. Joel is acting like the kid that got sneaking cookies in the middle of the night, still not hesitating to lick the fork clean as he tucked it away in the styrofoam box.

“Don’t tell Sarah,” He swears you to secrecy, “she’s already on my ass enough about my sugar intake.”

“You’ve got a sweet tooth,” You shrug, “nothing wrong with that.”

“What about you, huh?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, watching as you peruse the various snacks but not finding anything particularly appetizing. “Late night snack?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You chew at your bottom lip, feeling that this was useless.

“Wanna share it?” Joel asks suddenly, pulling your attention to him immediately. “That way I feel a little less guilty about it.”

“Oh—and then bring me down with you?” You tease lightly, “Of course.”

It’s how you end up in Joel’s room that night, no other intentions than to share that stupid piece of cake, lacking a fork so you trade off for a few bites until it slowly delves into you both feeding each other as you talk, one of you hogging the fork more than the other. You curled up in one chair and Joel relaxed out in the other, styrofoam box held to his chest and forcing you to lean closer to assure you didn’t drop crumbs everywhere.

Maybe it should feel weird, but it doesn’t.

“You know—if there’s anything you do need—” Joel begins after a while, meaningless conversation having died out.

“I know—Sarah tells me all the time. I just have to ask.” It feels pointless, rehashing things again. But, Joel feels the need to reassure and comfort. It didn’t help that he was finding himself, at his age, attracted to you in such a depraved way. “I will—if I do, I mean.”

It’s forbidden territory he couldn’t cross. But realistically, that only made him want you more.

Joel feeds you a slow bite, lips catching over the fork but smearing a copious amount of chocolate frosting on your chin. Before you have the thought process to wipe it away Joel is already there, leaning forward in his chair as he uses his pointer finger to clean you up, eyes following his movements carefully after the first initiation of touch.

Your breath catches in your throat, expecting him to use his own mouth to disallow wasting the frosting, but instead he raises it to your mouth in a split decision, his eyes dilating slightly under your shy gaze. Your lips press against the side of his finger in a gentle kiss that quickly spreads, taking the full length of his finger into your mouth as you lick away the excess frosting, feeling the pulse of desire in your belly as it grew, knowing that if Joel wanted to keep you there he could, locked under his gaze with his fingers stuffed into your mouth and you’d let him.

It was despicable. Inappropriate and wrong. But, you couldn’t help how badly your body wanted him, despite your brain telling all of this was a horrible decision.

You pull your mouth away with a soft pop, watching as Joel curl’s his hands into tight fists as he pulls them back to his side lazily, seeming more tense now.

“I should go.” You say softly, terrified to disturb this moment and the tension that blanketed it.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea, darlin’.” Joel says reluctantly.

Things only get worse from then on—and maybe worse is a strong word. But, it soon turns into a game that neither of you can stop, waiting until one of you finally makes the wrong move.

A few weeks later and your laptop takes the shit on a random Tuesday, head buried in your hands as Sarah tries to console you, but it isn’t much use. You knew it was a stretch to think the laptop could last you through the entire semester, and with just a few short months left, it couldn’t be worse timing.

Joel walks in at your inconvenience, keys jingling in his hands as he slips off his leather peacoat, glancing at Sarah who didn’t give him much to go off of. He folds the jacket over the back of an empty dining chair and rests his hands against the top of it, eyes scanning over the both of you at the table, one looking a little more distraught than the other.

“Everything alright?” He asks curiously, earning a subtle head shake from Sarah. He clears his throat, “Or—uh, well, how is the studying going? Feel like that’s all you two do.”

You rub a frustrated hand over your face and sigh, “I’m gonna see if I can get a ride home or something,” You tell Sarah, sliding your phone off of the table, “I’ll deal with this later.”

Joel and Sarah share a quick look of communication, her hand waving toward you sharply, forcing Joel to speak up before you make another rash decision and spend money on a long ride home when had the perfect opportunity standing right in front of you.

“I can give you a ride home.” Joel offers, much to your surprise.

You’ve been alone with Joel a lot now, though inadvertently.

Sarah would sneak away in her room for longer stretches of time just to call her boyfriend—which wasn’t a bad thing, but it felt odd when Joel would come home and there was no one to greet him but you. Still, you stretched your lips into a smile and welcomed him sweetly.

Even if this was his home.

Or times when you just happened to cross each other's path, even in such a large space. Sometimes the front porch when you were taking a break to stretch your legs, his watchful gaze dragging along your figure as he sipped on a hot cup of coffee in the evening, foot stabilized on the deck as he rocked in the wooden swing he sat on, crickets chirping loudly as the sun set.

Or just a simple trip to the bathroom, his bedroom across the hall and a couple doors down, often shut, but there were moments when you opened the doors, nearly face to face, and neither of you could look away. Joel would clear his throat, excuse himself, and kindly gesture for you to walk first. It happened often, too often—but neither of you addressed it. Instead, the tension grew. And grew. Until it felt like poking a sleeping bear. So it hibernated in both of you quietly.

Part of you expected things to change, that the small moment shared in his hotel room would make things hard to navigate, but if anything—it’s easier.

“Okay.” You agree easily, not having the proper energy to fight him over it.

The ride is quiet for the most part and Joel doesn’t need the step by step directions as he knows this town like the back of his hand, but he makes a wrong turn somewhere between his house and yours and you don’t feel like something is wrong, but it definitely feels off.

“Joel, you missed the last left.” You speak up as he continues down the road, glancing around leisurely as you soon delve onto a main street, lined with several shops. “Joel—”

“I’m gonna make a quick stop,” Joel attempts to ease your worries, fingers tapping against the gear shift positioned in the center console, “if you don’t mind.”

The moment he pulls into the parking lot of the electronic store, you know. You can see it in his eyes as he squints, checking that the store is still open and pulls into a parking spot near the front of the store.

“Joel, no—” You grab his wrist suddenly, his free hand reaching for the door handle and he looks down, eyes connecting where your skin touched before slowly flicking up to you, “look—just, I don’t need you to buy me a new fuckin’ laptop. I can handle it.”

Joel’s shoulders shrug in his obnoxiously patterned shirt, like he’s working out a kink in his neck as he repositions himself in the seat but doesn’t pull away from you. In fact, his hand gradually pulls toward your knee, fingers squeezing around your kneecap comfortingly.

“Considering it a loan then?” Joel tries to bargain, “Let me help you out now so you won’t have to worry about it and you can pay me back as you get the money? I see how often Sarah uses her laptop, it doesn't make sense for you to go without when I can help.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, staring intensely back at him. You could put your foot down and deny his offer, but the idea of suffering through the rest of the semster without your sole life line to surviving through college—well, that was actually torture.

“I’m paying back every single penny.” You tell him forthright, waiting until he nods in agreement.

“Sounds like a deal to me.” Joel responds.

Joel spares no expense, which doesn’t come as a surprise. He buys you the highest, top notch laptop they have to offer—and even as you stare daggers into the side of his face, there’s an inkling in your mind that tells you he isn’t going to allow you to hold up your end of the deal.

Joel liked to party too—not giant parties that felt overwhelming and unwelcoming. But, he did have a close group of older male friends that he liked to play poker with on the back deck of the Miller household.

Sarah learned to block it out early on, knowing that at some point things would get just a little too loud and not as easy to ignore. But, Joel never made you feel out of place within any of these instances. You were welcome here all the time and Joel was clear about that.

He’s showered you with gifts and accommodation and you hate the way it makes you feel special, wanted—beyond the night in his hotel room it was only innocent glances. It felt like you were misreading things, making something out of nothing.

Things aren’t great at home and you like it here—love it, even. And you feel your mind nagging away to make a stupid, spur of the moment decision. You could ignore it, but then your eyes catch Joel’s through the slight crack in the door, trapping you in his gaze like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

He squints slightly, lips curling around his beet bottle as he takes a long swig, fist uncurling against his jeans as he rubs out his palm and smiles—he has you hooked in so fucking easy it feels pathetic.

This is wrong. You inhale a shaky breath and turn away, busying yourself with literally anything else—a scuff on the table, the chipped nail polish on your fingernails, something.

Eventually his friends filter out—and Sarah had invited you to stay over the night barring that it was the weekend and she enjoyed your presence just as much as you did hers—if only she could understand the now huge, harboring crush you had on her father. It was harmless, but it felt like a betrayal.

And the feeling only increased as the night creeped along, your burdening insomnia keeping you awake, shifting and turning in the sheets beside her as you tried and failed miserably to fall asleep.

It was quiet out here, less commotion from the city. It was eerie, in a way.

You slip out of the bed quietly, walking barefoot on the hardwood as you tiptoed until you were outside of her room, closing the door behind you. You weren’t hungry, so you didn’t bother with the kitchen, rather heading toward the front door that was already halfway open.

Part of you expected Joel to be sitting on the porch, no real rhyme or reason. But, even he is out of sight. The soft, well-kept grass welcomes the press of your feet as you wander outside slowly, the hug of the warm spring air on your skin even this late at night. You catch one of the Miller’s horses hanging out around the edge of their enclosure, wondering if they managed to nudge their way out of their stable. You approach slowly, still not as accustomed to them as you’d like to be.

But, they were friendly. So, you raised a careful hand and rubbed gently at the horse’s mane, smiling at the soft huff it offered in return, leaning its snout over the fence more.

“Sunshine is always friendly,” Joel says from somewhere you don’t see, startling you out of your body as you jump, whipping your head around to look for him, eventually landing on his approaching form as he left the barn that held the stables, “—sneaky little gal, though.”

You laugh softly, finding it hard to believe that such a sweet horse was capable of escaping.

Joel whistles softly, beckoning her toward him. “Come on.” He nods, silently asking you to join him. You follow eagerly, watching as he unlocks the entrance to the fence for you to slip through, locking it behind you as you pass the threshold, catching up with Joel in a few steps.

“Don’t sleep well, do you?” He asks, heading turned over his shoulder briefly to look at you. You nod quietly, leisurely approaching Sunshine’s stable and watching as Joel locks her back up, rattling the gate for safety this time, ensuring it was secure. “Seems we have a few things in common.”

Joel stays quiet for a moment—in his own head, a deep moment of contemplation, carrying and safeguarding these thoughts he knows he shouldn’t have, wondering how your skin would feel against his palm, how the pulse of your heart would feel as he pressed his hand to the center of your chest and kissed you, full tongue and consumed your essence, this unignorable aura you had around you.

He feels sick, distraught. But, he can’t force himself to avoid you either.

“There’s somethin’ that usually helps me,” Joel tells you, hand pressed wordlessly against the center of your back as he guides you out of the barn and locks it up as well, “just goin’ somewhere quiet—lot of the time it’s just my thoughts keepin’ me awake.”

God, if only he knew.

He did, but that wasn’t the point.

Joel quiets for a moment, stuffing the ring of keys into his pocket as he glances over at the house briefly.

“You wanna go for a quick drive?” Joel asks suddenly, forcing it out before he can find a reason to stop himself.

“As long as it doesn’t end with you buying me another laptop, sure.” You chide deviously, watching the smirk grown on Joel’s face, knowing he still hasn’t taken a dollar from you.

And vehemently refuses every time you offer.

Joel drives you the path further into the land of property he owns, most of it still unexplored by you, eventually finding a clearing near the east edge, right on the edge of a body of water and a dock nestled near the shore. There’s a small boat tied to a post, big enough for a few people.

Under this light, as you exit the truck, Joel looks different.

He’s free of the weight of jewelry he wore, comfortable in his worn shirt and soft cotton shorts. For a while, Joel had been such an enigma that you weren’t sure what to make of him. Sure, he was just Sarah’s dad—but he was also Joel Miller, backbone of the town. His face was plastered everywhere. There wasn’t a single street you could traverse down that didn’t have him nestled away somewhere.

He spots a small mud puddle under your feet as he rounds the truck and quickly catches you before your feet get stuck, hands locked in yours as you jump over the small patch of wet dirt.

You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him, silently thanking him with your eyes.

“Can you swim?” He asks casually.

“Yeah…” You respond hesitantly, eyes locked onto the boat several feet away.

Joel releases your hands, but it doesn't matter. His touch still lingered painfully and you want nothing more than to pull him back in. But, now Joel is asking to go on a midnight boat ride with you and—really, how could you turn that down?

Joel rows you toward the center of the lake, your eyes locked onto the mesmerizing sight of the stars in the sky, so much clearer out here and away from the city.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Joel asks, not bothering to look his way.

You smile slightly, leaning back onto the palms of your hands.

“Yeah, it really is.” You miss the way Joel’s gaze lingers, admiring you.

“Now—sometimes I just come out here and talk to nothin’,” Joel explains when the boat comes to a full stop and he rests the oars inside the boat, knees spread as he resting his elbows on them, “then other times I just sit and enjoy the quiet.”

Your choice—that’s what he’s implying.

You clear your throat softly, finally changing a glance his way.

“I just—I don’t wanna say I’m jealous of what you have here,” You say quietly, “but, it really is a bitter reminder of without Sarah or you, I’d have next to nothing.”

Joel stays quiet, allowing you to marinate in thought and figure out how to convey how you were feeling.

“And—I don’t know. Selfishly, I like it.” Liked him. “But, I don’t want to rely on it and you make that a little impossible. I do have money, Joel. I can pay for things. I just don’t want you feeling like you have to do any of this out of necessity.”

“I’m not,” Joel admits, “Now—what makes you think that, darlin’?”

“I just—I don’t want anyone thinking I need to be fixed, I don’t.” You tell him, “I don’t need charity, either.”

Joel waves his fingers in a come closer motion, taking your slowly extending hands in his own, thumbs rubbing over soft skin tenderly, boring his eyes into your own.

“I’m gonna tell you this once and I need you to listen,” Joel says softly, but his voice feels so loud in the silence of the night, breeze hitting your skin and sending a sharp chill up your spine—but, you’re not how much of mother nature is responsible for that, “really listen, alright?”

You nod slowly, blinking a few times as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze.

“What I give you isn’t charity,” Joel tells you seriously, “and—maybe this is crossing a boundary I shouldn’t but, you’re somethin’ close to family. I take care of people I care about.”

Not family—he couldn’t conitate that with the feelings and thoughts he was having toward you.

“Close to family?” He was praying you wouldn’t harp on it, but you needed to confirm the underlying layer of tension that lingered between you two all the time. It was driving you insane, keeping you late into the night—he was the reason for your insomnia.

Joel smirks slightly, covering it with a quiet chuckle. His hand gradually cradles your face, rubbing along your cheek with a delicate touch, “I think you know, darlin’.”

God, he hoped you did. His thumb dragging along your plush bottom lip, eyes lingering for a brief moment before he pulls away, immediately missing his touch as he reigns himself to the idea that he may have crossed a line, quietly rowing the way back toward the dock.

Neither of you get much sleep that night anyways.

More time passes, lingering touches grow, and Joel is terrible at hiding his affinity for you now. Finding that those few words burned all regards he had toward keeping himself restrained around you. He had enough of a mind to keep it private—but there were comments, sweet little words that he’d whisper as you walked by or he caught you alone.

Nothing scandalizing, but just enough that it had your heart fluttering in your chest.

Until there is a small slip up, helping the Miller’s with dinner one night as Sarah escapes to the bathroom for a brief moment, your arms outstretched into the cabinet to grab for something just out of reach.

“Use the stool, darlin’,” Joel sees your struggle, “safer that way.”

You look around observantly before you find a folded up stool tucked into the only open corner in the kitchen, taking it back to your spot and unfolding it.

“Good girl.” Joel comments quietly, catching the startled look on your face as your head snaps back toward him. And he has the nerve to smile, noticing the hitch in your breath.

And it only grows in intensity until you can’t stand it anymore, cornering him in the kitchen on a night where Sarah is already upstairs gathering herself for bed, thinking you had come down for a couple bottles of water.

Joel is nursing a small glass of whiskey and he’s silent, but his gaze tracks your movement. You move toward him.

There is a belief in you, fully realized, that something is up here.

"Joel," You lick your lips hesitantly, squaring yourself up against the counter, standing straight, trying not to seem like you were teetering near a dangerous edge of delirium, wondering if you were imagining all of this, "can I ask you something?"

There's a severe lack of distance between you two, knees knocking against each other gently from where you both stand, eyes searching out cautiously even though you know there's nothing to worry about. You were alone, something that has happened far too many times over the past few months. Lingering moments of wandering gazes, eyes connecting from across the room even if Joel was surrounded by people, partying with friends while you're tucked away in the corner while Sarah talks to you about the boys at school that you can't be bothered to give the time of day.

Because of Joel. Because your mind is so tainted by the idea of him.

His palm is flattened out against the counter, adorned with a couple golden rings that clack against the marble, gold chains to match that sat perfectly against his chest, framing the small patch of hair that peeked out over his unbuttoned shirt, silk-pressed and adorned in a silly design that somehow always managed to work perfectly with whatever Joel paired it with.

"Course," He assures you, "You need somethin'? 'Cause you know if things aren't alright at home you're welcome to stay with us."

He’s not amiss to notice just how much time you spend here and no one bothers to come around and check on you. Given you were an adult, it was still glaringly obvious you escaped here for a reason.

Joel reaches out to touch your cheek, the warmth of his skin melding with your own as your breath catches in your throat.

Touch wasn't new, but it never got old. Like a brand against your skin that screamed out for more. You look down briefly, mouth opening slightly to say something, but quickly resigns back to its previous position, lips pursed under a soft scowl.

"I can take care of you," Joel reminds, like you could ever fucking forget it, written all over your features and the outfits you wore now, the dainty gold chain that he'd leant to you as a gift when you pointed out how much you liked it—he'd bought it for himself but there was no resistance in offering over it over to you, bright smile stretching across your face in the moment that Joel felt a sickening addiction to, "—if that's what you need, sweetheart."

You nod instinctively, though you’re not sure what you’re answering too.

“We’ve got a spare room,” Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth, the huskiness to his voice shouldn’t feel intimate speaking such meaningless words, “plenty of room for you, alright?”

“Mhm,” You answer weakly, feeling the distance start to close as Joel tries—really fucking tries to fight it, but he can’t help the way his eyes track the way your body responds to his teach, lip trembling when you release it from it’s hold between your teeth, “thank you, Joel.”

“For?” Your heart is racing, terrified of being caught but also enticed by how openly Joel is admiring you, eyes wide with adoration and curiousness, something undiscovered and new to him.

“Taking care of me.” You echo his words, but you’re both quickly retching away at the sound of a door creaking upstairs, separating in an instant.

This was all you had—fleeting moments that would never be.

The logistics are complicated to figure out at first, but finishing up the last few weeks of schooling away from the stress of being at home and somewhere where you could actually focus outside of school made the most sense. You pack a big enough bag to last you through the month, clothes and personal belongings you care about, and make the small guest room your new home.

At least, as much as you could.

Luckily, your final classes are a breeze—thankful that most of your discipline with studying had paid off, you and Sarah would graduate in another couple weeks and allow yourself a real break over the summer before deciding how you both wanted to continue. More schooling or not, you would handle that later—for now, you let your mind rest.

And Sarah, well, she escapes the first chance she gets—the first official day free of responsibilities she’s running off for a weekend vacation with her boyfriend, assuring she didn’t mind you tagging along if you wanted to come, but you could see it on her face—she wanted privacy.

So, you had no problem staying back.

A weekend alone—with Joel? Who could barely keep his eyes off of you know that you were around constantly, even in the early mornings when he’d walk through the kitchen shirtless and fumbling with the old coffee pot he refused to get rid of. It was a side to him you hadn’t seen much of and it was slowly etching itself into your memory.

Everything implodes the first night that Sarah is gone, unknowingly yet not unwelcome. But, it’s a turning point neither of you can come back from.

It’s undeniable the amount of boiling sexual tension that has stirred between you both between Joel’s heated gaze and scandalizing comments, stuff that he tries to hold in but fails when he sees how easily of an effect it has on you.

So, as luck would have it, your restless minds meet again.

Joel stops between his open bedroom door and the wall, watching as you approach quietly, smiling kindly as you reach for the door to the guest room, bidding him a soft goodnight.

He could spend his night writhing in bed, hand around his cock as he jerked himself to the thought of you a few feet over, nestled under your sheets—unbeknownst to him, relieving yourself in a similar way and yearning for the stretch of him rather than your measly fingers. It used to relieve the ache and help you sleep, but now it made things impossibly worse.

His fingers encircle your wrist quick, but carefully, silence your ultimate downfall as you stare over at him curiously, his eyes pleading something so desperate it roots itself into your own mind. Like an invisible string tethered to your bodies, it pulls you both together instinctively.

He doesn’t hesitate with touch now, slowly barricading his hands against the side of your neck, gradually working to cradle your head, tipping your head back as he leaned in, not willing himself to cross that line unless you allowed it. He knew the second you stepped over he was done for, similarly, you knew that to be true for yourself.

“Tell me to stop,” Joel begs, “—tell me and I’ll give this up.”

You double down, pressing your face against his own, nose pressing against each other, speaking against his lips in a venomous tone that seeps into his bloodstream.

“No,” You tell him, steadfast and unwavering, “I don’t think I will.”

Joel breathes in sharply before his reverence is breaking, pressing you up against the solidness of the guest room door and crashing his lips against your own, his grip bruising as he palms at your thighs, hooking a leg around his hip as he grinds into you, the feeling dulled out by layers of fabric but you can still feel him. He’s hard and straining against the soft fabric and making no attempt to hide how much you affected him.

“We’re makin’ a big mistake,” Joel says into your mouth, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth to prove his point, pulling a sharp moan from your chest at the slight sting, “you realize that?”

You find your courage and part from him briefly, open palm rubbing against the line of his cock, slowly trailing up and under his shirt, blunt nails clawing into the stomach, the muscle tensing under your skin, “I’m well aware—are you gonna stand here and have a moral dilemma about it or are you going to fuck me, Mr. Miller?”

It ignites a fury behind his eyes, ravenous and wild. He grips your face tightly, tilting your head up at a slightly uncomfortable angle, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing from the show of dominance, the grin spreading across your face all Joel needed to confirm his suspicions about you.

You enjoyed this—him, the little game you’ve allowed him to play over the past few weeks. And just as he’d said before, he wanted to take care of you—in as many ways possible.

“Say it again,” He warns, squeezing your cheeks together between his tight grip on your face, “—fuckin’ say it.”

“Mr. Miller,” You drone sweetly, best you can through his sturdy grip, “—hm, is that what you want to hear? Is that what gets off at night?”

Joel’s eyes squint slightly, attempting to read your expression. How would you know?

“Always want me to call you Joel because Mr. Miller is just too much, right?” You tease, “I guess you could lie to me, but the look on your face says otherwise.”

The back of your head drops softly against the door, nowhere to go as Joel has you crowded, hand tight on the doorknob and unmoving. You’re trapped and you can’t be bothered to care.

His hand trails to your neck gradually and squeezes, eyes rolling into the back of your head briefly as his jaw clenches, teeth gritting together as he bares them and speaks, “Should’ve guessed you’d like it like this, huh?”

You feign cluelessness, eyes half-lidded and staring back defiantly, swallowing against the solid hand he held against your neck.

“Tell me you want it,” Joel presses, feeling how mutely you attempt to press against hold and fail, “need to hear you say it first.”

“What? That I want you cock, Joel?” You say vivaciously, grinning at how his mouth twitches at your words, cooing out a soft, “Because I do.”

And that’s all the confession Joel needs before he’s breaking the barrier and shoving you inside the guest room, slamming the door closed behind him with a foot as he tracks and approaches you, hauling you from the back of your thighs as your ass hits the bed, scooting back slightly and spreading your legs to allow him to slot perfectly between them.

The fabric of your shirt bunches in his hands as pushes it up and away, lips pressing hotly against your stomach, mouthing at the skin greedily, quickly forcing the shirt up your shoulders until you get the idea and rip the shirt over your head, bare breasts bouncing against the jostling of your body. Joel has half the mind to gawk before he’s latching his mouth around your nipple, biting gently at the flesh despite his choice to be more aggressive than you expected. It’s the right amount of too soft and too much, your fingers curling into his hair at the root and pulling, earning a soft groan in response.

His curls fall freely over his eyes from where he’s looking up at you, lips lingering against your breast tantalizingly, “Let me taste you.” He tells you, his fingers dancing along the hem of your bottoms, his body descending as you find yourself nodding absently, helping him in the impatient push and pull until he has you naked and bare before him, his cock straining prominently against the thin material of his pants, rubbing himself through the fabric as he uses his free hand to spread you wide, marveling at the sight of your slick over the lips of your cunt.

Joel settles against the sheets, broad shoulders supporting your thighs as he adjusts them over him and hovers closely of your cunt, waiting for your eyes to connect in a brief moment of confirmation

You wanted this. And so did he.

He remains wide-eyed as his lips connecting with your cunt, straight for your aching clit as he sucks, flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot with a precision that has you falling slack against the sheets, mouth open in a blissful agony as Joel works away at your pussy like he’s had a million years to study it, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you continue to pull and twist at his hair, selfishly grinding yourself against his face.

He never breaks his gaze on your face, even when you find yourself with your head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling mindlessly, admiring the hurried rise and fall of your chest as you moan out something intelligible, slowly beginning to make sense in his hazy mind, “Oh—right—right there, Joel. Fuck, please—” You beg sweetly, feeling weightless as he lowers his mouth to your neglected hole and licks inside, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit.

“C’mon, baby,” He murmurs against your pussy, “keep talkin’, let me hear you.”

You sigh in exasperation, feeling the burgeoning ache of your impending climax, “Faster—” Joel is an astute listener, never missing a beat as he picks up his pace and adds more pressure, “–shit, I’m gonna—”

Joel silences you with his eagerness to make you come, words falling flat as he assales your clit with a determination to have you coming against his mouth, feeling the muscles spasm as you crying out his name in desperation, orgasming over his greedy tongue as he laps you up synonymously, forcing your body into overstimulation until you have to physically force him away.

Joel doesn’t have half the mind to speak, eyes darkened to near black as he rises to remove his shirt, pants and underwear following quickly after, undressing under your hazy gaze as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart before he’s fisting himself tightly, tip of his cock rubbing against the line of your pussy and catching your entrance, using the last bit of restraint he had left.

He should be courteous and ask about protection—but there’s a heat behind your eyes when you see his thoughts wandering, quickly snuffing out any worries. You reach gently for the hand not fisting his cock, cradling your knee gently, “We’re safe.” You assure him, the first moment of deep, unsettling reality as he realizes the weight of his choices before him—he’s already committed a few atrocities he knows he can’t come back from, so, what was a few more?

And he couldn’t say no to you, not with you staring up at him so wantonly, eyes pleading something desperate and meek, curious if this was all just a heat of the moment thing. Partly, it was—but this was months upon months of built up tension finally spilling into reality.

Joel isn’t sweet either, as he presses inside you. It shouldn’t surprise you, his impatient nature as he pulls you in close, hands gripping under your thighs and manhandling you until your folded nearly in half, hips pistoning sharp and rough, his gaze locked on the sight of himself disappearing inside of you, the sheen of your slick over his cock as you suck him in greedily.

“Come on, baby,” He grunts roughly, “keep showin’ me how good I make you feel. Show me how grateful you are.”

As if it wasn’t already obvious, obscene noises, feeling the quiet air as you sob out, feeling the angle change as he shifts his knee by your ass, angling your hips up slightly.

“Thank—thank you,” You say softly, broken as he snaps his hips roughly, hitting something sensitive inside of you, the coiling heat in your stomach rebuilding quickly, “thankyouthankyouthankyou,” You ramble mindlessly.

Mesmerized, you watch his curls bounce freely over his forehead, overgrown hair sticking to his skin from the soft sheen of sweat, the muscles in his broad shoulders straining as he holds your legs prisoner in his grips, hips aching dully from the unusual angle but you ignore it. He’s locked onto your pussy for a long stretch of time, entranced until he hears your soft moans, realizing you’ve been admiring him this whole time, eyes locking on you in a moment of vulnerability as he speaks directly to you, hips slowing to a manageable, but still slightly overwhelming pace.

“Always—know how to appreciate things, isn’t that right?” Joel asks, the redundancy not lost on you, “Take everything I give you and never ask. Never greedy—just lettin’ me spoil you.”

“Joel—” You whine, his hand slowly trailing the path to your joined bodies, thumb circling slowly over your clit briefly, “—harder, fuck me—harder.”

“But, look at you now—so fuckin’ greedy for my cock,” He’s speaking through a slight groan, releasing the straining hold on your thighs as he falls, spreading his legs out and using his arms for support as he holds himself over you, hands fisting into the sheets beside your head, “gonna make me cum, baby.”

You find yourself desperate for touch now, wrapping your arms around his neck until he’s nearly chest to chest, forehead resting against your own as you whimper into his open mouth, “I want it.”

Joel makes a small noise of question, “Want what, baby?”

“Your cum,” You reply softly, watching the way his pupils dilate at your words, “—please?”

Joel groans involuntarily, feeling the dignified squeeze of your walls around his cock.

“Where?” He asks slightly breathless, panting into your mouth.

You reach blindly for his hand, using his pointer and middle finger to breach your lips, pressing flat against your tongue, “Right here.” You mumble around the thick digits.

It’s the first thing you’ve ever explicitly asked for and who was Joel to deny that.

Joel pulls out quickly, rising on his knees as you push up to rest on your palms, his head hung back as he fucks himself into his hand harshly, a few short pumps and he’s pressing the aching tip of his cock over your tongue, spilling into your mouth with a deep growl, forced through clenched teeth, working himself through the aftershock as he squeezes out the last bit of cum he has to offer into your waiting mouth, forcing your mouth closed with his opposite hand and watching as you tilted your neck up and swallowed, tongue peeking out playfully as you show him your empty mouth.

You have half the mind to think he’s finished, but instead he’s swatting your thigh as he maneuvers your hips until you realize he’s silently asking you to turn over, quickly situating your ass in the air with his strong, domineering grip—burying his face into your cunt without a moment of hesitation, a gasp ripping from your throat. Your hips pull away instinctively out of shock, earning a sharp slap by Joel’s hand against your oversensitive cunt.

“Stay still.” Joel demands.

You answer softly, a pathetic acknowledgement and nod, obeying his order.

“Good girl,” He coos, muffled against your cunt, “Come for me, baby—you’re right there, I can feel it.”

There’s little resistance as his tongue swipes over your clit, sending you into a shorter but immensely more consuming second orgasm, feeling yourself lose consciousness for a brief moment as you sob into the sheets.

“Fuck.” Joel sighs as he rests back on his calves, cock softening between his thighs as you roll onto your back gingerly, thighs shaking from strain, feeling Joel’s comforting touch on the aching muscles as you close your eyes, letting the reality of the situation set in.

You laugh giddily, “Yeah, fuck.”

Neither of you address the glaring issue of what just took place and somehow, that feels like the biggest atrocity to be committed.

Secrets weren’t something you used to harbor, but it seemed like that was all you had now.

Sneaking off with Joel, lying to Sarah—it was the last thing you wanted to do. But, you and Joel had each other in an equally debilitating grip that neither of you could loosen up on.

And with secrets came gifts, more and more outrageous as time went on—big ticket items that had you fearing that, at some point, Joel would drop something like a new car on you—and that, for what it was worth, would help you. But, it was nothing you wanted.

Sex started to feel transactional after a few more weeks, graduation creeping on you.

Joel never lacked in care and attentiveness, but there was this nagging feeling in the back of your mind, like you were this unattainable prize he was paying for and you were eating right out of the palm of his hand.

But, then graduation day approaches and Joel is acting odd.

So odd that it unsettles you. He’s there, along with his brother and his small family, cheering as loud for you as he does for Sarah, the obvious absence from your own family never lost on you or him. Then, night approaches.

He’d decided that throwing a party for the both of you in celebration was a good idea, just a small party with very few friends and he swore—swore that there was nothing else up his sleeve until he’s pulling you and Sarah off together, away from the party and there is a pair of matching, new cars parked in the driveway.

Sarah, given she already has everything she wants, is still thankful. It’s the one thing she had been trying to save up for herself, without the help of her dad. So, while she could be upset, she isn’t. She knows Joel’s intentions are good and that he’s just trying to be a good father—which is all he’s ever been for her.

But, for you, it stings.

You linger, settled a few feet away against his beater of a truck, staring at the car like it was an eyesore.

She doesn’t like it. She hates it, Joel thinks.

You thanked him regardless, but refused the keys. Joel had stuffed them into his pocket and allowed you the space you wanted, eyes pleading quietly. Sarah had hugged you gently, kind words left in your ear before she departed back inside.

“You’re like family,” She says with genuine love, “and he has more money than he knows what to do with—so honestly, just take it. You deserve it more than anyone.”

And that hurts worse, knowing that you’ve been lying to her for months.

You weren’t family. Not to Joel. You were something much more convoluted and dangerous.

A drug. A trap. Something he couldn’t rid himself of, not that he desired to. But, he knew—once you were embedded into his life, it would be nearly impossible to get you out.

–

Joel finds you a while later, away from the party and beyond eyesight from the house, curled up against the front end of the truck and picking away at some of the ripped denim of your jeans, counting the frayed pieces. He takes a similar position, sitting next to you silently.

“You don’t have to take it,” He tells you, “but, it is paid for—”

“Joel, please—”

“What?” Joel asks suddenly, his own annoyance getting the better of him, “What am I doing wrong?”

“Joel—we have sex, you buy me something ridiculous. Or, you buy me something ridiculous without my knowledge and then we end up having sex, how does that look to you?”

“Now, I’m not doing that because of sex—”

“But, you see how it looks? How it makes me feel?” You argue with him, “Joel, I can’t help how I feel about you, like—it feels physically impossible, but the constant gifts makes this seem transactional. I don’t want that. I’m already a secret, I don’t need to be bought either.”

Joel shakes his head in silent disbelief, “You really think that’s how I view you? That’s it?”

“You haven’t tried very hard to make me think otherwise, Joel.” You tell him honestly, “I don’t need you showering me with cars and clothes and shit that I don’t need—and if that’s what you feel like you need to do, I don’t want to do…whatever this is anymore.”

Fucking him, sneaking around in secret. You weren’t dating, but it sure fucking felt like it. One intimate moment from a love confession that would seal the deal on your perception of him.

Joel kicks at the gravel as he rises to his feet, pulling you up by your forearm, an immediate look of both confusion and frustration crossing your features as he turns you and presses your chest against the front of his truck, shadowed by the cover of night. His belt clanks together loudly as he undoes his jeans behind you, tucking them far down enough he can pull his cock from the confines of his underwear, lifting up the hem of your dress and yanking your own underwear down your legs and off, and you should stop him—but you don’t want to.

This was the problem. You couldn’t get enough of Joel.

He slips inside of you with ease, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest that he stifles with his hand, clasped over your mouth, fucking into you with a reverance that was new.

“Joel—we’refuck—we can’t here,” You try to say, yanking his hand away from your mouth, “we’ll get caught.”

Joel grips the base of your neck roughly, fingers curling around the sides as he tilts your head back and looks into your eyes, other hand coming around the bottom of your chin until you’re forced to look up and back at him, not a single speck of warm brown in sight. He looked angry.

But, it didn’t feel like it was directed toward you. Regardless, he fucked you like he was.

“I’ll return the fuckin’ car,” He starts to ramble, “I’ll return everything if that makes you think differently. God—” He snaps his hips harshly, earning a broken sob from you as you reach behind you blindly for something to anchor yourself on, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, “—never want you to think this is transactional, baby. It never—never was.”

Never would be, you want him to say.

“Whaddya want me to say?” Joel asks before you can speak, “That I care about you—baby, I fuckin’ do. I thought that was obvious. Know—know I shouldn’t, that it’s wrong, but I knew—”

You gasp raggedly, his hand leaving your chin to find your clit, just the right amount of pressure to have your hands clawing at his skin, head resting back against his shoulder as he fucked into you.

“And I’ll keep this a secret if—if it means I can have you but this isn’t transactional,” He continues to speak, despite your inability, tipping over the edge of your orgasm as his hips stutter slightly, “it never will be.”

That—that was what you needed to hear. Pulling him taut against you as he buried his mouth into the junction of your neck and nipped, biting at the skin roughly but not enough to break skin.

“Come inside me,” You gasp, chest rising and falling quickly, “please—Joel, please?”

“You like when I fuck you like this, don’t you?” Joel teases, “Never ask for anything but my cum—greedy girl,” You moan at his words, spurring him even further, “tell me baby, tell me how much you want it.”

“So bad,” You whine, “Joel, please give it to me—fuck—all of it, please?”

Joel snaps his hips a few more times before his hand is releasing your neck, crossing over your chest and squeezing tightly at your breast as he pulses inside of you, pumping his hips and filling you full of his spend.

Joel kisses at the exposed skin of your shoulder, pulling out with a soft grunt, the slow jingle of metal sounding behind you as you reached for the underwear he offered you, slipping it back up your legs and into place, despite how Joel’s cum dripped out of you, something he makes point of as his fingers drag along the material, causing you gasp softy at his touch, swatting his hand away. He chuckles lowly at the annoyed glare you shoot his way.

Joel shifts your hips until you turn in his grip, back pressing against cool metal. He crowds you in again, leaving you feeling breathless as he grips your face, but his touch is surprisingly tender.

“What do we say?” He says softly, lips pressing against your own.

“Thank you,” You retort sarcastically, capturing his lips in a quick, bruising kiss as you card your fingers into his hair at the base of his neck, pulling gently, “this doesn’t change anything—I don’t want the car.”

“You don’t have to take it,” Joel settles, “but it’ll be here if you need it.”

You pull away further, looking at him endearingly, watching as his eyes flick briefly toward the house.

“What do we do–about this?” You ask quietly, afraid someone might be listening in despite being alone, “About…whatever this is.”

“Hey,” Joel assures gently, “don’t worry about that—not tonight.”

“Joel—” You plead, eyes searching desperately into his own.

“I care about you, that’s all you need to worry about.” Joel speaks truthfully, his thumb rubbing along the line of your jaw as you swallow, muscles tense under his touch.

And you’re wondering if he’s just saying what you want to her—that maybe this was still a game to him and he was letting you feed into it, nodding to his confession. Joel is all in, offering you his metaphorical hand.

You sigh shakily, “Okay—I trust you.” So please, don’t let me down.

And you know things will eventually implode, but you intend to hold on the brief moment of hope you have now, safe under his gaze as he leads you back to the house, everyone blissfully unaware of the moments you’ve shared, leaving you resigned to appreciate the greedy looks his shares with you across the room.

It was a dangerous game, but you were willing to take the risks.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #bfd!joel #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #my writing

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justagalwhowrites · 14 days

Text

Undone

After a stressful week at the office, Joel knows just how to take care of his wife. AKA Joel Miller doms the stress out of you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: No Outbreak AU. Established relationship, husband and wife. Dom!Joel x Sub!Reader (light). Tiny little age gap (like 5 years? I'm picturing Joel at 44 and reader at 39?) Unprotected P in V sex. Oral sex, F receiving. Creampie. Overstimulation. Aftercare.

Length: 5.4k

A/N: This is totally self indulgent. It's also like... entirely smut. Sorry. But not really. OK love you bye!

Joel knew what you were after the minute you kicked the door closed.

It was Friday and it had been a hell of a week for you. Joel had done his best to support you through it - he’d finished up one big job on Tuesday and didn’t start the next one until Monday - so he’d taken the lead on keeping the household running while you put in extra hours and came home frustrated and exhausted every night.

He knew it wasn’t going to magically be better just because it was Friday, so he’d spent the day trying to make the end to your work week as good as he could. He went to the HEB and got your favorite snacks, picked out flowers for the kitchen table, even went by the liquor store on the way home to get everything you’d need to unwind at the end of your day. He started smoking ribs early that afternoon and was outside to sauce them when he heard the door slam behind you.

Joel didn’t need to see what happened, he knew from the sound that you’d thrown the door open and then kicked it shut behind you. He’d bet the check from his next job that you’d be face down on the couch, your shoes and briefcase a little trail from the front door to the living room. He shook his head, taking a swig of Shiner before closing the smoker and heading inside to find his wife.

You were exactly where he thought you’d be, taking up almost the entire length of the couch, flat on your stomach, blazer still on but your heels and bags scattered between you and the front door.

“Aw baby,” he said sympathetically. “That great a day, hm?”

You made a sound that was caught somewhere between a grunt and a groan.

“Want to talk about it?”

You made the sound again and Joel tried not to laugh at it.

“Here,” he said, coming and adjusting your legs so he could sit beside you on the couch. You groaned as he did but he guided you from lying on your stomach to sitting up to leaning on him, your face in his chest. He put his arm around you and gave you a squeeze. “Tell me what melted down.”

“We have our quarterly earnings release going out in less than two weeks,” you sighed. “And it’s a shit show. Legal’s been reviewing that shit for what feels like an eternity and I need to issue the goddamn release announcing the date of the full release but I can’t do that until I actually know that legal and financial are going to have stuff sorted in time and the CEO has emailed me twice a day about it the whole week because sure, the legal team definitely falls under my department…”

Joel held the still mostly full bottle of beer in front of you and you took it from him, your fingers brushing his and you were quiet for a moment as you took a sip before handing it back.

“Also, HR is going to be the death of me,” you continued, on a tear now. “I swear, it shouldn’t be that hard to find a qualified entry level candidate but here we are, still short staffed 10 weeks after I got the OK to hire. They’ve sent me two resumes, Joel. Two. I called them today to ask how many they’d received and they’ve had 226 candidates apply and they’ve sent me fucking two! I refuse to believe that just one percent of applicants were remotely qualified so I asked them to forward me all the applications since, apparently, recruiting can’t do their damn jobs so I’m going to have to do it for them…”

Joel nodded along, handing you the beer periodically when he felt you getting too worked up. He found himself, not for the first time, awed by what you did for a living. He didn’t understand much of it, really, and he was thankful he didn’t need to. He wasn’t cut out for that kind of shit. You, on the other hand, had jumped in with both feet when you’d started at your company seven years ago when the two of you had just started dating, You’d risen up the ranks quickly and you now had a team of several dozen people reporting up to you. As gentle and sweet as Joel knew you to be at your core, he knew you were also unflinchingly driven at work. During the COVID shut down, he’d gotten a glimpse of it, listening to you take people - mostly men who seemed to think you weren’t as capable as you clearly were - to task and get things done. He was eternally grateful that, when the two of you fought, you didn’t take him down the way you did people who crossed you in the office. Though that stood in sharp contrast to how Joel heard you talk to the people who reported up to you, with you seemingly always happy to lend an ear or provide guidance or take the heat if they fucked something up that was going outside your department.

Unfortunately, that meant you had weeks like this one, where plenty went wrong and you had no one to pass the buck to. And he knew as well as you did that you wouldn’t just let something fall apart, not if there was a damn thing you could do about it. Even if that meant working yourself into the ground.

After a while you just deflated against him and he handed you the beer again. You took a long drink, emptying the bottle, and Joel took it from you to set on the side table.

“Feelin’ better?” He asked, his nose brushing your hair.

“Kind of,” you sighed, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Somethin’ more I can do?” He asked, trying to make sure that he wasn’t nudging you in the direction he was hoping this would go.

“Yeah,” you said, something shifting in your tone when you said it. No longer frustrated and fed up, instead needy and wanting. You sat up from him and looked at him through your eyelashes, practically pouting. “Turn my brain off for a bit?”

Joel’s heart picked up, heat and tension already gathering low in him.

“Aw, my baby need me to fuck her stupid?” He asked, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. His thumb traced along the arch of your cheekbone as his eyes locked on your blown pupils. “You need me to make that big brain of yours slow down for a while, that it?”

“Yes please,” you breathed. He could feel your skin getting warmer below his touch.

“Please what?”

“Please sir,” you said, holding your hands up with your wrists together, like an offering. “Please fuck me stupid. Please sir.”

He quirked his jaw before he smiled, dark and low.

“Good girl,” he growled. He got up and closed his large hands around your wrists before pulling you sharply to your feet, looking you up and down as he did. There was something that drove him wild, seeing you like this. Dressed in your armor of the business world, a place where lesser men had to go to you for permission to do a goddamn thing, and you came home to him, begging him to strip you down to something small and vulnerable and easily consumed.

He wasn’t sure why you’d picked him of all people. When you’d met almost eight years earlier, his first thought was that you were way out of his fucking league. A friend of Tommy’s then girlfriend now wife, you were a few years younger than him but had clearly kept your life on the right fucking track the whole time instead of driving it into the ground for a while first. You’d gone to college, built a damn impressive career, had goals and dreams and plans for yourself. You were beautiful and smart and funny and kind and the first time he’d taken your clothes off he was still not entirely sure why you were letting him do it.

He’d been even more surprised the first time you’d shared with him that you wanted him to take control in the way he was now.

“I just have to make decisions all the time,” you’d said, folded into a corner of his couch with a glass of wine in your hands. “I just really want to have someone else take over for a while, you know? Not have to make any plans or take care of anybody else, just enjoy and be enjoyed.”

That, Joel had thought, he could give you.

It wasn’t something the two of you always indulged in but there were days like this one where you seemed to crave it. Maybe even a step beyond that - you needed it. You needed the safety of Joel’s guidance, the comfort of his control, the ease of his pleasure. He liked to give you those things. More than liked it, sometimes he lived for it.

Today was one of those days.

He led you to the bedroom and stood you at the foot of the bed, your wrists still firmly in his hands as his eyes searched yours.

“You just want to be my little doll, is that it?” He asked, his thumbs brushing the inside of your wrists. Your pulse was heavy and hard. “Want me to take control so all you have to do is feel what I let you feel?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Yes what.”

“Yes sir,” you were practically squirming.

“What are your colors,” he said more than asked.

“Green, yellow, red,” you answered quickly.

“Where are you now?”

“Green.”

“Good girl,” he guided your hands so they hung at your sides. “Don’t move until I tell you.”

He watched you resist the urge to nod and he slipped his hands below the lapels of your jacket, running his hands over your skin for a moment before shoving the sleeves down your arms and leaving the blazer in a pile on the floor. He watched you swallow, your throat working and he tried not to think about making you kneel and taking his cock into that pretty throat of yours. He knew just how good it would feel while you sucked him, how fucking good it would feel to come down your throat.

Maybe later. Right now, he needed to take care of you. And that’s exactly what he was going to do.

***

When Joel touched you like this, it was like something unspooled inside yourself. There had been a knot in your stomach for days at least - maybe longer - and nothing had worked to untangle it. Not crossing things off your to do list at the office, not the yoga class you’d skipped lunch to take, not the iced latte your assistant had ducked out to grab you that afternoon. But Joel’s hands on your skin as they slipped the slender straps of your satin top down your arms were better than anything else, especially when your mind wasn’t going a mile a minute thinking of ways to please him in return. You watched as he moved to undress you, his eyes heavy and hot and hungry as your top pooled around your hips. He reached around your body to unhook your bra, casting it aside before cupping your breasts in his large palms, groaning as he did.

“You feel so good,” his thumbs brushed your nipples. “My soft, pretty fuckin’ girl.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, clenching your hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. He’d told you to stay still and you had to obey. If you didn’t, you knew he’d drag out your first orgasm for what felt like an eternity, bringing you just to the edge of it but never letting you fall into your climax until you were a desperate, dripping, squirming mess.

“What, baby?” He almost cooed at you, just a hint of a teasing edge to his tone. “What’s my baby need?”

“More,” you whined. “I need more, please, I need…”

He took his hands off you then and looked you in the eye and you almost reached for him before you caught yourself.

“Who decides what you need right now,” he said. You moaned and he ignored you. “Who. Tell me, pretty girl.”

“You,” you said.

“That’s right,” he nodded. “And I’ll give you more when I decide you need more and I decide I’m done enjoyin’ the parts of you I’m enjoyin’ right now. So. You stand still like a good little doll and we’ll see when I’ll let you have more. Got it?”

“Yes,” you said.

He took your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Yes what.”

“Yes sir.”

His crooked smile dimpled his cheek.

“Good girl.”

He returned to touching you, running his large and callused hands over your shoulders to your chest, holding and massaging your breasts and you could tell he was taking his time less for himself and more because he knew what it was doing to you. That it was making you achy and desperate and the thoughts that had been weighing on you all day at the office were slipping out of your mind, drifting far away into the ether.

“Think I remember you sayin’ something about more?” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly as his hand slipped over your stomach, below the bunched fabric of your shirt, below the waistband of your pants until his fingertips were brushing your bare mound inside your panties. You whimpered. “How about I give you some more, hm?”

His index finger reached out and brushed the top of your clit, sending a shiver through you, all the heat you had inside yourself pooling low in your stomach.

Joel chuckled.

“Think she likes it.”

He pressed a little lower, a little firmer, working your sensitive nub in slow, languid circles.

“She like this too?”

You nodded frantically.

“Thought I told you not to move,” Joel said, stern.

“But…”

“No buts,” he cut you off. “You wanted to give me control so you give me control. Otherwise, you won’t get what you want. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re lucky,” he said as he went to open your pants. “Got me all worked up, too. Too worked up to draw this out the way you deserve, squirmin’ the way you are.”

He got on his knees in front of you and gathered the fabric of your shirt, pants and underwear in his hands and pulled them all down in one go, the sudden exposure of your skin to the air making you gasp and goosebumps scatter over you in sharp little pin pricks.

“Fuck, there you are,” he groaned, his hands coming to grip the thick swell of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat of you as he pressed a kiss to your stomach just below your belly button. You moaned, wanting nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his curls. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms, acutely aware of where he was touching you because of the absence of him everywhere else.

He trailed his mouth down to your slit, his tongue dipping into you there, brushing against your clit, the heat of his mouth in sharp contrast to the cold air against your wetness. His hands slipped up your back, finding your waist before Joel stood, his still clothed body so close to your naked one.

“Lie down for me,” he said, a little breathless. “Middle of the bed.”

You rushed to obey and watched hungrily as Joel undressed himself, his black t-shirt coming up and over his head, his jeans opening to reveal his tight boxer briefs with his thick, hard cock straining the fabric. He took off everything before crawling up the bed over you and, for half a moment, you thought he really was going to give into you that quickly, give you exactly what you wanted that fast. But instead of settling between your thighs with his heavy length brushing against your slit and his mouth on yours, he fell to the side of you, the weight of him jostling the mattress. You turned your head to look at him, confused, and he laughed, dark and low.

“You didn’t think you were gonna make me give in that fast, did you?” He asked. He slid one arm below your ribs, his hand coming up and around the back of you to hold your breast while his other hand teased a feather light path down from your throat, over your chest, your stomach to your slit. “No, not done with this yet.”

“But…”

“You just lie still and let me worship you,” he said, his palm cupping your mound, his middle finger settling between your lower lips as he put gentle pressure against your clit. The tip of his finger circled your dripping entrance but didn’t slip inside where you were aching and desperate for him. “Want to enjoy you for a while.”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, his mouth finding just the right spot on your throat at the same moment he added pressure to your clit, grinding his hand against your most tender place and making your back arch below his touch.

Joel kissed and licked and sucked along your neck, your collarbone, your breast, his cock brushing against your thigh as he manipulated your body and you could feel his precome on your skin when it did and you were desperate to touch him there, to feel just how hard you’d made him, make him start to unravel the way he was doing to you.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, a finger sliding inside of you, making you groan.

“But I want…”

He pulled back from you to look in your eyes and you could tell from the glassy look on his face that you probably already looked like a fucked out mess.

“You tryin’ to make me feel good or you want it for yourself?” He asked, brows raised. You tried to find the words but couldn’t. He nodded. “S’what I thought, you sit still like I fuckin’ told you. You try to touch me and I won’t let you come, got it? This is about you, not me so you’re gonna lay there and take it, understand?”

“Yes sir,” you whimpered.

He went back to working you over, adjusting so that he could fully kiss down your body until his head was between your thighs, two fingers buried inside of you as he looked up your body to your face.

“New rules,” he said, pressing his lips to your clit for a moment and sucking it into his mouth before continuing. “Want you to come and I want you to come hard. You’re allowed to touch my head to put me where you need but you do anything else with those hands and we’re startin’ over. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

He practically dove into your pussy, his thumb working your clit, his tongue licking deep into your channel. The fire in your belly burned brighter and it was like you could feel all the blood in your body pulling into the center of you. Your hands flew to his head, the thick of his hair and the heat of his scalp almost sharp against your fingers after having felt nothing but your own palms for what felt like forever. You rocked your hips against his face as he ate at you, a finger slipping into you alongside his tongue, working the inside of you deftly so that you were never empty but never lacking the friction of him moving in you. His fingertip curled into the soft, sensitive place inside of you that he found so easily now, adding the perfect amount of pressure as his thumb and nose worked your clit and you felt your pussy get so tight and hot you worried, for half a second, that it would hurt him before every worry flew out of your head entirely, your entire body flooded with waves of pleasure as you came on his tongue.

Joel worked you through your orgasm, never letting up as you moaned and panted, your grip on his hair easing as your body started to go limp. Your pussy was so sensitive when your climax eased but Joel didn’t pay your little whimpers any mind. He pulled his mouth from you but added another finger, fucking into you with his hand and adjusting so his palm was grinding against your clit as he did.

“There you go,” he panted, wiping your slick from his mouth before taking his cock in his hand and working himself with it. “That what you needed, pretty girl?”

“Yes sir,” you whimpered.

“Good,” he said, his eyes ranging over you, dark and hot. “Because now it’s my turn.”

He pulled his fingers from you and spread your thighs a little wider, lining his cock up with your still weakly grasping hole for half a moment before thrusting deep into you in one devastating go. You gasped at the stretch of him filling you like that, the inside of you still soft and tender from your orgasm. Your fingers scrambled at the blanket below you, your back arched and taut and you tried to hold onto something - anything - in your head beside how he was splitting you open.

“I say you could use your hands like that?” He asked, his fingers finding your wrists and clamping around them. He pressed deep inside you and folded over you, bringing your hands with him, pressing your wrists down into the mattress over your head. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little doll right now, ain’t you? Mine to do what I want with and I want you to take it.”

“Joel,” you whimpered.

“That ain’t my name right now, is it?”

“Sir,” you corrected, resisting the urge to rock your hips up against him. “Please!”

“Please what?”

You couldn’t put words to what you wanted to ask for and Joel just smirked before releasing your wrists and sitting up, looking down over your body to where he disappeared inside of it.

“What I thought,” he said, his hands pressing your thighs wide before his thumb trailed over where you were split open on him to your clit, teasing you in a slow circle that made you jerk involuntarily below him. He took it away, his hand on the soft flesh of your thigh again. “You leave those hands there and take it. You can take it, pretty girl. Know you can.”

With that, he pulled back, slow and aching, before fucking back into you, hard and fast with a forceful grunt. You watched him fuck you, his cock slamming into you with enough force that it jerked your body up and down the bed. You were lost in it, the way you could see his muscles flex, the way his eyes ranged over you - watching the place he was spreading you open and the way your tits bounced for him and up to your face to meet your eyes and back again. It was almost hypnotic, like there was nothing else in the world that existed outside of him. He was controlling you totally, fucking into you with enough force that you couldn’t even breathe out of sync with his thrusts, your body just something he could manipulate and pleasure and use however he saw fit.

You weren’t sure how long he fucked you like that before his hands ran over your thighs to your core, his thumbs brushing along your clit, pressing into you there and working you in hard little circles as your channel started to tighten around him again.

“There we go,” he panted. “Got another one right there don’t you? You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you pretty girl. Gonna give me everything, ain’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you whined, your fingernails digging into your palms as you fought to keep your hands still.

“Good girl,” he pressed himself deep as he worked your clit and returned to his same punishing rhythm, the head of him finding the place inside you he’d claimed for himself. He left one thumb on your clit, his other hand stretching up and over your stomach, fingers splaying wide on you until it was in the middle of your chest where you knew he could feel how your heart was pounding behind your ribs. The feel of him everywhere was overwhelming, the tight spool of pleasure that had never fully relaxed after your first orgasm already wound unbearably tight again.

“Want you to come for me,” he said, voice needy. “Want you to be a good girl and come. Give it all to me, baby, want you to just let go and give it all to me, let it all go, c’mon and come for me, make me fuckin’ feel it…”

You cried out as you obeyed, your channel fluttering over his cock as he kept fucking you deep and hard. You could feel your orgasm in the very center of you, in every muscle and every nerve, your climax taking hold of you so firmly that you felt a gush of liquid rush out of you.

“Fuck, there you go,” he said, not letting up. “Fuck baby, love when you squirt for me, such a good fuckin’ girl…”

The wet snap of his hips into you was obscene and, as your orgasm eased, your body was already drawing tight again. Your heart raced and you could feel everything, everything, so sharp and harsh and overwhelming. Your head swam, your skin prickled.

“Love feeling you come for me,” Joel was still fucking into you, hard and bruising like he was trying to climb inside your skin and claim a place for himself there. “Love when you get all tight and desperate, love making you all needy…”

You let out a fucked out little whimper, tears pricking at your eyes, not able to see straight through the haze of your already building orgasm. Joel leaned over you, his cock buried deep but going still.

“You with me, pretty girl?” He asked, his hands sliding up your arms to find your wrists, holding you gently in place. You couldn’t seem to find the words to answer, too overstimulated to think of anything beyond how he was filling you and surrounding you. “Gimme a color, baby.”

“Yellow,” you managed.

He took your limp wrists in his large palms and guided your hands to his skin, resting them on his broad shoulders.

“That help?” He asked. “You can nod.”

You nodded quickly, your breathing evening out, body still tight and strung out.

“Color?”

“Green,” you said, the tears that were in your eyes slipping down your cheeks but not being replaced by new ones.

“Good,” he shifted inside you, pulling back a little before thrusting in again. “Because I ain’t done with you yet. You keep those hands right where I put ‘em and just focus on coming one more time for me, need you to milk me dry, baby.”

But his pace eased, less frantic and more desperate, working you slow and firm from within. He buried his face into your neck, his mouth finding that place that sent shocks of pleasure through your whole body. His hands ranged over you, fingers hungry and grasping at your skin, his hips working against your clit as his cock found its home deep within you.

“Know you’re close,” he said against your skin, lips still close enough to brush against you as he spoke. He kissed along your neck, nose teasing along your throat. “You got one more in you, baby, I know you do.”

“Sir,” you whimpered, pleading, not sure if you wanted to come or wanted to just dissolve.

“You can come,” he fucked you slow and deep. His public bone pressed against your clit and your back arched. “Want you to come, want to feel you come. Make me feel you, baby. Be a good girl and make me feel you.”

You dared to let yourself move, just enough that you could rock your hips up against him, working yourself with his body as you felt him grow impossibly thicker and harder inside you. Or, maybe, you were just tightening further around him, body clinging to him in one last desperate push for closeness as your climax hit again. You cried out with it and you couldn’t just leave your hands on Joel’s shoulders, instead latching onto his hair and sliding down his back, pulling him flush against your body so the only thing left in the world was him and his skin and the thick of his cock as he started to pulse inside of you.

Your orgasm almost hurt it was so intense. You could feel every inch of Joel’s cock in you, the heat and softness of his skin against you, every muscle in your body going rigid and tense for a moment before relaxing. Your vision went spotty and you got light headed and you lost track of time.

The next thing you knew, you were in Joel’s arms, cradled against his chest, his fingers trailing a gentle path along the edge of your hairline and jaw, thumb brushing the plush of your lips.

“There you are,” he said softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his large hand coming to rest against your cheek as you turned your head to look at him. His eyes were soft and warm and there was a gentle smile on his face. “How are you feelin’ love?”

You took stock of your body for a moment, everything feeling light and airy.

“I’m good,” you smiled a little.

“Yeah?” He said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Take a deep breath for me, OK?”

You nodded a little and did as you were told, only realizing then just how little your lungs had been inflating before.

“How’s that feelin’?” He asked. “Good?”

You just nodded, still smiling.

“How about this for the night,” he said, going back to tracing an easy trail over your skin with his fingertips. “In a few minutes, I get up and get you water and a cocktail while you put on that pretty little swimsuit of yours. You float in the water while I look at ya and finish those ribs in the smoker…”

“You’re making me ribs?” You almost pouted, your brows going up.

Joel chuckled.

“Yeah, that OK?”

“That’s my favorite,” you said, feeling like you might be about to cry.

“I know it is, baby,” he said, kissing your temple again. “S’why I made ‘em. Got that potato salad you like, green beans, cornbread too. Even got that chocolate cake you like so much…”

“The Oreo one?” You sniffed, tearing up.

“The Oreo one,” he brushed your hair back. “You still with me there baby?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, crying a little. You weren’t entirely sure why, just every emotion you’d had over the past week seeming to bubble up at once. “I think so…”

“You’re OK,” Joel said, pulling you closer, his lips gentle on your skin. “I’ve got you.”

You just nodded against him and focused on how his skin felt on yours, his warmth and strength grounding while your mind was still swimming.

“What about after dinner?” You sniffed.

“We can watch one of those movies you like so much,” he said. “I know the ones that’ve been on your list, you don’t gotta pick unless you want to. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “But… can we just stay here for a little while first? Please?”

“Course baby,” he said. “Whatever you need. I’ll take care of you.”

You nuzzled into his skin and breathed deep and you didn’t really know why you’d been so stressed when you got home to begin with. You just knew that you had Joel and that, as long as he was there, everything else would be OK.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #dom!joel miller

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chiriwritesstuff · 4 months

Text

The Girl in IT - 1. The Night Shift

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Preview: "Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal." “Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-" You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No Outbreak! Joel Miller, Mentions of intended smut towards the reader, Boss x Employee Relationship, Virgin Reader, All of the yearning, Joel Miller is a silly flirt, A small-ish age gap, Joel is too forward for his own good, Tess is a boss (and should not be fucked with - or you get the horns).

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: Well, hello there!

I honestly have no idea where this idea of a (somewhat crack) fic came from, but I had an idea and I ran with it! A lot of the character development came from my own anxieties of feeling behind in life, and if you feel that way too, I feel you! Don't worry, I promise it won't always feel like this. Time is just that- time, and it's never too late to follow your dreams! I believe in you!

To: [email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Subject: I think I have a Virus?

12:50 AM (10 min ago)

Hey Sugar,

I know it's late, but my computer fritzed out an hour ago (a shit ton of pop-ups) and I have that presentation with The H Hotel tomorrow morning. Well, do you think you could do me a solid and help me... not have any more of those darn pop-ups? I called the number that popped up asking if I needed assistance with the virus and they asked for my credit card information but they haven't replied back.

Shit, was that a scam? Fuck. I should call Amex.

Anyway, do you think you can help me get out of this bind, Sugar? I'll be forever and eternally grateful. If you don't, well... I'm sure Tess will rip me a new one, and I would like to not have a Servopoulos-level meltdown at 9 in the morning. Not after last time. Sorry about having to be a part of that, Sugar. At least Maria was able to pay for your dry cleaning and get you a new shirt? You should have let me check your chest for burns, I sure as hell wouldn't want scalding hot coffee being thrown in my direction either. Shit. Not check your chest as in checking out your... breasts, just the burn site. Yeah. That's what I meant.

(Also, sorry for emailing you last minute. Shit. I'm desperate, baby.)

Thanks,

Joel Miller

Owner and CEO, Miller Construction Group

(512) 123-4567

To:[email protected]

Fr: [email protected]

Subject: RE: I think I have a Virus?

1 AM (0 seconds ago)

Good Evening Mr. Miller,

I got your request and will work on it shortly. I can't make any promises, but I will try to get you out of your "bind".

Don't worry about that thing with Tess. She was rightfully upset, and I just so happened to be caught in the line of fire. If it had to be one of us, I am glad it was me being pelted with boiling hot coffee, and not you in front of your clients. You didn't have to have Maria buy me a blouse from Neiman Marcus, nothing a little tide-to-go can't fix, right? Also, I knew what you meant about my chest, and I didn't think you wanted to look at my... breasts. Let's not refer to any of my body parts moving forward.

Also, I am not completely comfortable with the terms of endearment that you continuously call me, Sir. Please refer to me by my actual name, these emails are monitored by Tess and I would not like to be scalded with hot coffee again for a little misunderstanding.

Please let me know if you have any other pressing questions or concerns.

Goodnight!

IT Specialist 0926,

IT Department, Miller Construction Group

(512) 765-4321

"Ok Bubbles, let's see what mess Mr. Miller got himself into this time."

Settling by your coffee table, you access your remote portal and insert your portable SSD, initiating various programs to gain entry into your boss's laptop. Securing your hair in a messy top bun with a claw clip, you find yourself biting your bottom lip in concentration. Simultaneously, you switch on your TV, finding solace in the ambient noise that fills your dimly lit apartment—a space shared with Sir Bubbles, your British Shorthair companion since your college days. There's a marathon of Criminal Minds airing on TBS, Spencer Reid's adorable face on screen as he rattles off another theory for why the unsub was an abuse victim by his prostitute mother. You turn the volume down a bit, drowning out his voice.

It's near silent in the little shoebox you call home, the only decent place you were able to afford with your meager savings- after slaving away as a Geek Squad IT Specialist for the majority of your twenties at the Best Buy down the road from your parent's house. Despite graduating with your MIS at the University of Texas - Dallas, finding a decent job in your industry was brutal, and, honestly, quite embarrassing after receiving 30-plus rejection emails in a span of a year. Downtrodden and desperate for a job, you settled on working at Best Buy temporarily, but by the time you hit your mid-30s, it's been eight years working for barely minimum wage, and absolutely nothing to show for it.

"Do you remember those sweet Miller boys who fixed our roof ten years ago?" your mother asks during a Sunday dinner six months ago, sliding a boat of gravy your way as you absentmindedly drizzle it over your mashed potatoes. "I ran into the older one... Joeseph? James? He owns his own company now with his brother, quite the feat, right? They're working on that hotel down the road... anyway, Josh-"

"Joel," you correct her, nudging the over-steamed carrots around your plate. "I think his name was Joel, Mama."

"Yes, Joel," your mother dismissively waves her hands. "Well, I told him about how you were on the job hunt, you know, with your master's and all. Oh, remember when you used to have that silly little crush on him? He's grown to be quite the looker, you know? Anyway, he told me that they were looking for someone to replace their old IT person—apparently, they retired—"

"Mom," you groan, "get to the point."

"Well," she grins conspiratorially, "he wants you to apply, baby. He remembers you and your little crush, and he said he could never forget someone as cute as you. If you're as good as I claimed you were, well... the job's practically yours!"

Your fork slips from your grasp, the metallic clang against porcelain causing Bubbles to leap in surprise, hissing at you in irritation. "Wait, what?" you blurt out, your eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion.

Your mother beams at your reaction, seemingly pleased with the bombshell she just dropped. "I told him all about your IT skills and how you practically run the technology world from your bedroom. He seemed really interested, sweetie. And, well, it wouldn't hurt to at least consider it, right?"

You sit there, a swirl of thoughts and emotions whirling in your mind. The unexpected twist of Joel Miller, the older Miller boy you once had a crush on, remembering you and possibly offering you a job—it's surreal. Bubbles, having recovered from the earlier disturbance, casually resumes licking his paw, completely uninterested in the familial drama.

"I... I don't know, Mom," you stammer, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. "I mean, working for the Millers? It's a bit... complicated."

She leans in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sweetheart, this could be a fantastic opportunity. And who knows, maybe that little crush of yours could turn into something more... professional, of course." She cuts into her meatloaf, humming in contentment as she chews. "Oh, and Sweetie? Wear the red sweater with your pleated skirt, with something other than those sneakers. You're turning thirty-six in September; you can at least do yourself a favor and start dressing your age for once! I'm sure Joel would appreciate it!" she winks at you as your father grunts in displeasure, rolling his eyes, muttering "meddler" under his breath.

"Mom, it was just a crush from a decade ago. Besides, mixing work and personal feelings is never a good idea."

She chuckles, reaching across the table to pat your hand. "Well, think about it, okay? Joel seemed genuinely interested in having you on the team. It's worth exploring, don't you think?"

A wink, a handshake, and six months later, you find yourself on-call indefinitely, catering to Mr. Miller's every technological whim and folly. It's not a bad job, you reason — getting paid triple what you made at Best Buy, monitoring everyone's browsing history in the office, and fielding the incessant IT requests Mr. Miller sends your way- which was often. Way too often.

[My laptop won't turn on.] Did you charge it? Try doing that first.

[Why does the volume not work on my Zoom calls?] Did you make sure that you're not on mute or that your computer volume is up? Check that first.

[Since when did we put a parental blocker on the internet?] It was per Tess, who said that employees should be working instead of looking up anti-feminist manifestos on Reddit. I apologize for the inconvenience, Mr. Miller. [Oh, well shit. Do you think you could unblock it for me? I am... having a hard time accessing my... bank account.] I mean- I could, but I would have to run it by Tess first. [Do you think you could... for me? It'll be our little secret, Sugar. Don't worry about Tess, I'll handle her.] Sure, Mr. Miller... Right. Our little secret. [Sugar, for the last time, it's Joel. Besides, I thought we were past having a silly little crush on me, you've grown into a... rather nice young woman. Please, call me Joel.] Uh, sure Mr. Miller.

You are broken from your silent reverie by the unmistakable ding, ding, ding of the pop-ups Joel- Mr. Miller - you correct yourself, mentioned in his email. You scoff, biting into a piece of beef jerky. Typing in a command, the pop-ups halt, the black screen granting you developer access popping up as you run diagnostic after diagnostic trying to catch the little sucker - a virus, as Mr. Miller claimed - in the act of corrupting your poor boss' laptop once again. There you are, you little shit, you mutter under your breath as you furiously type in more commands, eradicating Mr. Miller's bane of existence for good (or so you hope).

After running what felt like the tenth diagnostic of the night and downing three cups of coffee for the last three hours, the dawn of a new day streaks through the sheer curtains against your window. With bated breath, you restart Joel's system once more, closing your eyes until the familiar chime of Windows 11 booting up reaches your ears.

Please, please, please for fucks sake... no more pop-ups...

Joel's home screen pops up in an instant, the photo of him and his two girls smiling back at you as you breathe in a sigh of relief. "Fuck yes! Finally!" you silently exclaim, a drawn-out yawn and a deep stretch escaping your body as you settle your laptop on your couch. "Okay, let's just run a few programs and check a few documents to make sure they're not corrupted and then I can finally hit the sack..." you squint at the digital clock of your microwave, "and sleep for an hour before I have to get ready for work," you groan, eyeing the jar of Cafe Bustelo in the distance. Yep. No sleep for me, you think bitterly. Another night, another one of Mr. Miller's computer meltdowns...

Your eyes scan his desktop, opening up the PowerPoint file he needs for his presentation. It opens up with a slight lag, something you can optimize later but you breathe out another sigh of relief anyway. You check his internet browsing history, his late-night extensive porn viewing not a surprise to you anymore as you snort at the ridiculousness of it all. At least it's not as bad and kinky as Tommy's browsing history, you tell yourself, because you'll never quite get used to all of the roleplay porn he watches religiously, you think. Closing out of Google Chrome, You scan his desktop for a random Word doc for you to open, not checking its title as you double-click on the first one that you see, slightly hidden by the Recycle Bin icon to the bottom right. Wants? What kind of a file name is that?

The Word doc pops open, and it seems to be a running list of random things. You blearily scan the line items, your eyes widening in shock as you read on.

Fuck her against my office door as I cover her mouth to muffle her screams.

Spoil her with a shopping spree at Neiman's with my Amex black card.

Fulfill my breeding fantasy by convincing her to get off of her Birth Control (do you think she's on one?)

Fuck her from behind against Tess' desk (serves her right)

You quickly exit out of the document, pushing your laptop away as if it were cursed. You look at the document title once more.

Wants.

What the fuck was this? Who is he talking about? you ponder, the guilt of your negligence weighing on you like a weight tied to your ankles as you sink into the depths of the Atlantic. You shut your laptop for good measure, covering it up with your quilt as you shake your head in disbelief.

What the fuck did I just read?

“Mr. Miller? Do you have a moment?”

You knock on the office door once more for good measure, standing timidly as you try to occupy yourself by smoothing out your dress - sensible, a decent length, work appropriate, you think to yourself. You try to not occupy the idle time of waiting for your boss, Joel Miller, one half of Miller Construction- and the thing you found while remote logging onto his computer last night - I think I have a virus, his email stated - only to stumble upon something rather telling and personal - but he was your boss, and you were a professional, and you weren’t going to think about the list…

Kiss her in the rain.

Make love in my truck as she rides me.

Bend her over my desk and take her from behind.

Marathon sex

Eat her out as she works at her desk.

No, Joel was unequivocally your boss—older than you by at least a decade (and maybe a few more years, give or take), and the document titled "Wants" was clearly personal, likely intended for someone else, and certainly not meant to be seen by anyone, especially not an overly curious IT specialist like you. No, you reckon that this list was meant for someone else in the office - someone beautiful, sexy, and confident— someone decidedly who isn't you. Certainly not for someone who dresses like she’s still in college, who only recently began living on her own in a shoebox of an apartment (if you can call it that) after living with her parents for the majority of her adult life, and who barely has her life together. It’s pathetic, being a woman of a certain age and with nothing to show for it, still painfully single, nothing substantial to your name, only getting your life together now while everyone around you has done everything right. I feel so behind in life, you think to yourself. Who would want someone so pathetic as me?

It’s not like it’s a crime to have wants, you think to yourself. Everyone has them, including you, you reason. So what if you just so happen to stumble upon your boss's deepest (and somewhat depraved) desires? Doesn’t everyone have a bucket list of their desires written somewhere? So what if your older, attractive boss with his Gen X tendencies has it typed out on his work computer? It’s not like he meant for you to open up the Word doc, right?

You knew he was single. You also knew that he had kids, at least two—Sarah, his eldest, was the head of HR, and Ellie, his adoptive younger daughter, an apprentice working under Tommy, the other half of Miller Construction—a serial flirt who asked you about your dating life in your interview a few months back. No, you didn’t think about your boss and the sheer mass of man that he was, that he smelled like cedar and sandalwood, that he winks when he tells you good morning as you pass him in the parking lot while stumbling out of your less-than-impressive shitty Corolla. You also didn’t take note that he drinks his coffee black with a sprinkle of sugar—the one in the brown packet—or that he eats in his office instead of the employee lounge because he’s a messy eater. The deep red blush trailing down his neck as Tommy scolded him about his lack of table manners during a company-mandated team-building day wasn't proof enough of that.

There wasn’t a ring on that tell-tale finger, not even a tan line, no photographs of another woman on his desk—besides his daughters, of course. Not that you were looking. Tommy had his wife Maria come down to the office often enough; wouldn’t Joel be the same with his own?

Miller Construction prided itself on being a family-run company, with Joel and Tommy at the helm and their best friend Tess as VP—more the boss than the actual Miller brothers. While Joel and Tommy preferred the hands-on work on-site, Tess ruled over the office with an iron fist. No one dared to cross her.

"You've got one job, and one job only," she declared during your office tour. "Make sure no one spends the majority of their shift watching porn, and keep Joel from messing up his computer with his boomer-isms. We can't afford to keep replacing a laptop every six months."

"Isn't he in Gen X?" you ask. "... at 56 years old, he's still considered to be in that generation, right?"

"Technically, yes," Tess replies with an exasperated sigh. "But you know what I mean. Sometimes it feels like Joel is stuck in a time warp with his 'boomer-isms.' Just keep things running smoothly here, alright?"

As the days pass, you notice an unusual trend in Joel's computer issues. It seems that every time his laptop malfunctions, it coincides with a spike in suspicious internet activity. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots, and you can't help but shake your head at the irony of it all.

After a particularly eventful morning filled with more than the usual technical hiccups, you decide it's time to address the elephant in the room. You knock on Joel's office door, half-expecting him to be engrossed in some spreadsheet or construction plans.

It's not like you have to tell him about your snooping - he would be none the wiser judging by the way he was so technologically inept - you weren't about to tell him that the reason for the virus on the computer was because he was looking at some rather specific porn - boss fucks unsuspecting secretary from behind- his internet history had listed, nor did he probably think that his computer is being monitored, including his internet browsing history- company policy, as stated on the employee handbook that every employee of Miller Construction signs on the day of their official hiring- nor does he think that it sends reports to her at the end of the day.

You don't think about how the sudden uptick of his secretary porn viewing increased since a week after your hiring. It's just a coincidence, right?

“Mr. Miller?” You call out once more. “It’s about your IT request last night? I have an update?”

“Yeah? Sorry! Come on in!” you hear from behind the door, accompanied by the frantic shuffle of papers and a silent curse. You take a deep breath as your hand turns the doorknob. Silently, you shut the door behind you, offering a small smile as you smooth out the skirt of your dress once more.

You fidget in place in front of the door as Joel—Mr. Miller—in his green flannel and dark jeans slung just right—it really should be criminal, looking this ruggedly handsome for someone his age, you think—as he ungraciously flops onto his desk chair, motioning for you to take the seat in front of him as he clears his throat nervously. “Take a seat.”

You situate yourself in front of him, refusing to meet his eyes as you fiddle with your hands on your lap, wondering why he, out of all people, would be nervous. It's not like he stumbled upon something so... intimate. You are a professional, and you were only doing your job, you tell yourself like a mantra, trying to ground yourself. What's the worst that could happen? It's not like he would fire you over your accidental snooping, right? You nod to yourself. “So…”

“So…” he replies, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a drink of his coffee. “Thank you for taking a look at my computer last night.” He begins, smiling at you. “I know that it was late, and I’m willing to compensate your time by giving you time and a half…”

“Oh,” you nervously reply, shifting in your seat. “No, Mr. Miller—”

“Joel.”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Please. We’re all family here. Call me Joel. Mr. Miller is my father for fuck's sake—”

“Right,” you chuckle. “Sure. Joel. Listen, you don’t need to compensate me for last night, let alone give me the overtime rate—”

“I emailed you at midnight; surely you were already busy, or I probably irritated your husband—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you mumble solemnly, “there’s no husband, just me and my cat-“

He barks at that, the laugh so loud it makes you jump in your seat. He gives you a look, almost as if he was relieved with that bit of information. “Well, disturbing your cat, then-“

"Oh," you reply casually, waving your hands in dismissal. "I'm sure Sir Bubbles didn't mind... and I don't sleep much, really—"

"Oh?" He straightens himself, his face serious. "Is it because of all of my requests? Shit. My girls give me such a hard time about not being with the times, I'm not really interested in technology— So no husband? Boyfriend, then?"

"Uh, no," you reply quickly, not eager to delve into the details of your lackluster love life. You clear your throat, adopting a professional demeanor. "Joel, as you're aware—or maybe not," you chuckle nervously, "I receive reports of all employee internet histories at the end of the day. Being the sole IT specialist on your payroll—perks of the job, outlined in my duties—I keep an eye out for any... irregularities."

"Irregularities?" he replies, his demeanor shifting into something resembling guilt. "What are you trying to get at?" he presses.

"Well, I monitor employee computer usage to make sure that they're not... distracted from their work," you reply. "Tess was explicit about not having any employees using company time for any unnecessary personal... dalliances."

Joel gives you a hard look. "Dalliances?"

"Yes, dalliances. Tess told me it was an issue before, with employees browsing social media and visiting questionable Reddit threads?"

"I don't follow," Joel replies. "You gotta spell it out for me, Sugar. What does that have to do with my request last night? I had a late night at the office, and after... checking my emails," he gulps, "I suddenly get bombarded with these pop-up things, so much that I just... unplugged my laptop... and, well-"

How is he so oblivious about this? You bite your cheek in frustration, not knowing how to get to the point without having to spell it out for him that you caught him browsing porn last night, secretary porn at that, and although it's highly inappropriate, you hardly think he was watching it because of Gladys, his actual secretary, who is old enough to be his mother. Not unless he has some weird mommy kink...

Unable to endure the suspense any longer, you decide to rip the bandaid off as soon as possible. “I’m sorry!” You exclaim, “I didn't mean to look at your browsing history, I mean, I had to, but only because I had to find the reason why a virus got on your computer, but that is not the point! I had to open a file to make sure it wasn't corrupted, and I swear, I didn't mean to open it!"

“Open what, sweetheart?” he smiles at you, leaning forward towards you.

"Well, it was a virus, and as I looked into the problem, I had to explore every avenue to ensure I pinpointed the issue, you know, for my report to Tess. I went into your history to see if it might have been a site that caused you to have the virus. I may have casually peeked into a few files to ensure they weren’t corrupted…” you admit, “…and I might have stumbled upon-" your eyebrows raise in embarrassment, "Something personal."

“Something personal?” He questions, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t have anything personal… oh, shit.” His eyes widen as the realization dawns on him, hands covering his face as he groans in embarrassment. "Look, about my internet history... and the list-"

You slowly nod and bite your lip, mostly to hide your own embarrassment. “… yeah. Um, it was quite... informative about your... sexual preferences.”

Joel visibly pales at your confession. He adjusts his collar, unbuttoning the second button as if he were being strangled by your scrutiny. “I just want to let you know", he starts, looking you in the eye with an unreadable expression. "I respect you as a woman, and Tommy, fuck, he wouldn’t let it go, with all that teasing about you being exactly my type and all, and well, your mother did remind me about your little crush on me back then-“ he rubs his hands through his hair as he rambles on, “… and I know that this looks bad, with you being my employee and all-“

“Wait, what?” You cut him off, a confused look on your face. “What do you mean? I mean, they're your personal preferences, and the list, well, I'm sure whoever you're writing about must be some woman, not that it's any of my business-”

“Fuck. You didn’t read all of it?”

“No!” You exclaim, practically jumping out of your seat. “I quickly closed it once I realized the nature of the document…”

“Well.” He stands up suddenly, pacing behind his desk. “I wrote that drunkenly one night after the company dinner, you know, the one when you wore that dress… do you remember?”

“Yes,” you reply breathily, “… the night where-“

You vividly recall that night. It was a dinner at the recently completed new hotel project. After a few glasses of wine and an impulsive, rather expensive purchase at Nordstrom.com a week prior, you endured most of the evening in an uncomfortably tight and overly revealing dress—a poor choice for a company party, for fucks sake. You believed Joel approached you at the end of the night out of sheer pity, not because—

“Well… after seeing you in that dress, and how stunning you looked in it, sitting by yourself, biting your lip in a way that makes me-“ he stops himself, giving you a small smile. “I was drunk, and I was thinking… I was contemplating how, if I were to have you, if you, by some miracle of fate… were interested, that I would do things right, you know? That if I had a second chance at… I would do it right. Treat you right.”

“You do know I’m not a secretary, let alone your secretary,” you roll your eyes. “I’m in IT… the only person in IT actually, and you’re not the first person I caught looking at questionable porn…”

Joel bristles at that. “Shit. Let me guess… Tommy?”

That gets a small smile out of you. “I can neither confirm nor deny, but… he’s partial towards a certain porn actress, and let’s just say he is really in love with women who looks like his wife.”

He smiles. "Shit, I thought I was being obvious enough, being that Tommy has teased me about it enough... I thought you knew. I know you work with computers, Sugar. I’m not completely senile, and I know Tess has been on a warpath about people getting their rocks off at work, I figured you would look at all of my… perusing.”

You're left stunned, your mind racing to process what Joel just revealed. It's not the revelation about his desires that leaves you speechless, but the unexpected admission of his feelings toward you. Your mind flashes back to the list, the desires that seemed so out of reach for someone like you. You never thought Joel would be harboring any feelings for you, let alone express them so openly.

"I... I had no idea," you stammer, still grappling with the revelation. "I thought that list was for someone else, someone... not me."

Joel walks around the desk, his eyes never leaving yours. "You thought wrong, sweetheart. I've been trying to drop hints, but I guess I've been subtler than I thought."

A myriad of emotions wash over you — confusion, surprise, and a hint of something you can't quite place. The professional boundary between boss and employee seems to blur, and you find yourself in uncharted territory.

"But," he continues, "I get it. I'm your boss, and this is complicated. I didn't want to put you in an awkward position. I should've been more direct."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Joel, it's not about being direct or indirect. This is just... unexpected. I never thought someone like you would... feel that way about someone like me."

He reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you meet his gaze. "Someone like me? What does that even mean, darlin'? You're intelligent and beautiful, and I've seen the way you handle your work. I've noticed you, and I can't help how I feel."

A mixture of vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes makes it hard to doubt his words. You start to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, your insecurities have clouded your perception.

"I don't want to pressure you, and I understand if you're not comfortable with this. I just needed you to know. The last thing I want is for things to be awkward at work," he says, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

You take a moment to absorb everything. Joel's revelation, your preconceptions, and the unexpected turn of events. The office, once a familiar space, now feels like uncharted territory.

"I need time to process this," you finally say. "It's a lot to take in, Joel. I never expected... any of this."

He nods understandingly, his hand dropping to his side. "Take all the time you need. I'll respect whatever decision you make. And hey, if you're not interested, we can go back to being boss and employee, like nothing happened."

You manage a small smile, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "I'll... let you know. Just give me some time, okay?"

"Of course," he says, moving back toward his desk. "And, for what it's worth, I meant every word on that list. Whether it's a rain kiss or making love in my truck, I want it all with you."

You nod, silently acknowledging his sincerity. As you leave his office, you can't help but wonder how a routine IT request led to such a revelation. The office dynamics have shifted, and you find yourself navigating uncharted waters, unsure of where this unexpected revelation will lead.

As you walk away from Joel's office, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts consumes your mind. The revelation about Joel's feelings for you is a shock, but it's not the only thing echoing in your head. The list of desires he had penned down only magnifies your own insecurities. The voice in your mind grows louder, whispering that you're not the woman he deserves—too much of a mess, too behind in life, and certainly not beautiful enough for someone like him. The echoes of your perceived inadequacies replay like a broken record, drowning out the possibility that someone could genuinely see something valuable in you. You glance at your reflection in the office window, critiquing every imperfection, every perceived flaw. The dress that seemed sensible before now feels like a sad attempt to disguise what you believe is a lack of style or grace. The weight of self-doubt becomes an invisible burden, and you can't shake the feeling that you're not enough, that you may never be enough for someone like Joel.

As you grapple with your internal struggles, a small spark of defiance begins to flicker within you. Perhaps it's time to challenge those self-limiting beliefs, to be bolder than your insecurities allow. Joel's admission has opened a door you never expected, and you find yourself at a crossroads. Despite the echoes of doubt, a newfound courage whispers that maybe, just maybe, you can be more than what you perceive.

Embracing this sudden surge of determination, you make a decision. Instead of letting fear dictate your actions, you choose to confront the uncertainties head-on. Swallowing the apprehension that threatens to hold you back, you turn on your heel and head back to Joel's office. The faint thud of your own heartbeat echoes in your ears as you push open the door.

"Joel," you say, your voice steadier than you anticipated. "I've been thinking about what you said, and I need you to clarify something for me."

He looks up from his desk, curiosity etched across his features. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You take a deep breath, suppressing the self-doubt that still lingers. "Is that list something you genuinely desire with me, or was it just a drunken fantasy?"

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, a mix of surprise and sincerity in his gaze. "Every word of it is something I want with you. Why?"

A daring smile plays on your lips as you respond, "Then let's not leave it as a list, Joel. Let's see how many of those desires we can turn into reality."

The room seems to hold its breath for a moment as Joel's expression shifts from surprise to a slow, understanding smile. The air thickens with anticipation, leaving the next steps uncertain but filled with the promise of something new and exhilarating. As you stand on the precipice of this unexpected journey, the uncharted waters of possibilities lie ahead, and you find yourself ready to take the plunge.

Taglist: @gwendibleywrites, @joeldjarin, @brittmb115

For more updates on all of my fics, please follow @chiriwritesstuffnotifs

All dividers by @saradika-graphics

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #tlou hbo #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfic

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dsybouquet · 5 months

Text

ceo! ellie - 3

what if a broke uni student met the ceo of one of the most impactful companies right now? without her even knowing?

lowercase is intentional

read part 1 aaaand part 2 right here ! xx

"good to see you, ellie."

"hey dina."

ellie lightly said, giving her lawyer a hug. she in fact was relived to see the silghtly older woman sitting in her office chair, smiling ever so lightly.

"what's the news?"

the ceo asked, lighting herself a cigarette before loosening the hair tie that hold her bun together. she looked at the slightly older woman with confused eyes.

"good or bad news first?"

"good i guess?"

she sat down besides dina to have a look at the lawyers screen, like she would understand all the paragraphs and lawyer language she had all over her desktop.

it‘s been a while since ellie and dina had so much to discuss. when ellie became ceo, they would talk every day, also about non business topics. sometimes they both wonder how they grew apart like this.

"good news is, we will not get sued!"

dina exclaimed, clapping her hands slightly. she threw an encouraging smile at ellie.

"the client is mad, however.. they have a different way for you to make up for it. so the bad news is-"

"let me guess, our yearly charity event should be in honor to them instead of joel?“

the blackhaired woman raised an eyebrow.

"i mean, yeah kinda. they want to be more represented.“

ellie got up from her seat and walked around the office. the smoke of her cigarette hugging her face every time she blew it out.

„did i ever mention how i despise abby sometimes?“

„like every other day.“

dina just laughed it off, she knew how much of an temper ellie could have - and over the years it got just worse.

„no like, seriously. ever since joel died in that car crash i have to deal with her bullshit and i can‘t do anything because they are the biggest client we have!“

and here it goes. ellie threw her cigarette in the ashtray before slumping on her office chair again.

joels death resulted in her taking his place - being the ceo of miller enterprises. and as much as she loved the money and the big cars and the responsibility, she also hated it. none of this is her‘s, it‘s joels. he did all the work, she just had to be next in line.

he had adopted her years after his daughter has passed away due to an medical condition. to say the least, ellie was a rough child and teen. she was loud, sarcastic and had her own will. of course she would listen to joel, after all he wad the only parental figure she had ever have.

„it‘s almost five years now.“

she mumbled, looking at her desk.

ellie hated christmas season and winter. she hated the snow and the beautiful lights. she hated it because it reminded her of him. of the call from dina, the hours in the hospital, the beeping sound of the machine that so desperately tried to keep him alive.

„i know.“

dina added, leaning against ellie’s table. she gave her a encouraging smile.

„how about we start the planning tomorrow? go home and have a good nights rest.“

and so ellie left the office with a small goodbye to dina and went back to her car. she sat down in the drivers seat. as much she loved her car, she didn’t want to drive.

tears slowly build up in her eyes, but she quickly swallowed it when she saw an unfamiliar book on the passenger seat. a book about.. the human psyche ?

you must have forgotten it when ellie dropped you off at home.

„damn it.“

she said under her breath and whipped out her phone, calling your number immediately. and to her surprise you picked up very fast.

„hey ellie! are you okay ?“

your voice was so gentle, ellie was about to die from it’s sweetness.

„hey dear. yeah don’t worry. uh- you forgot your book in my car. need me to drop it off ?“

there was some noise on the background, sounding like you fumbling around in your bag to find it.

„that would be great, ellie. i‘ll make up for it.“

she smiled, starting her engine and looking up your adress from her recent routes.

„i will be there in 20! see ya, ______!“

and off she went, excitement now building up.

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

„hey, thank you so much.“

you smiled, waiting on your doorstep, still in the same hoodie, but with pyjamas pants below now.

„no worries.”

“are you free? i can cook you some dinner. you know, to make up for you having to drive here again?“

now ellie smiled but shook her head.

„no, it‘s fine. don‘t worry.“

„ellie, c‘mon. let me do something for you as well!“

and how could she say no to some with a pretty face like yours?

so she agreed, and you lead her up the stairs to your apartment. it was small but lovely and well decorated. scented candles burned in the hallway and the living room was dimly lit with a lap and the led strips behind your running tv.

„it‘s not much but it‘s affordable - for an uni student at least.“

you smiled before going to your kitchen counted which was connected to your living room.

„what do you mean? it‘s pretty!“

ellie eyes the nerdy figurines on your shelves and the pictures on your walls while you grabbed two wine glasses from your shelf.

„are you fine with a cheap rose?“

you asked her as you opened your fridge. ellie looked at you and just felt all the weight of her work falling off her shoulders. she felt.. normal. like you. oh, how she wished to be an uni student, living her best life in an small apartment instead of leading people and having responsibilities beyond imagination.

of course, she did not have to worry about bills or anything. but money and power doesn’t buy happiness. this does.

„absolutely!“

she sat down on one of your kitchen chairs and watched you pour in the wine with a smile.

„thank you dear.“

she said so softly your knees got weak. and you smiled, letting your glass softly hit hers before taking a sip, not breaking eye contact.

„so, i can offer you: noodles with green pesto, noodles with red pesto, or i can try my luck with a mushroom risotto. additionally, i can also make a side salad.“

you smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter. ellie hadn’t felt this carelessness and even happiness in a while. after all, she never had this.

„risotto sounds amazing.“

she smiled, watching you sigh in despair.

„of course you choose the hardest dish. will not guarantee that it will be good!“

you reached for a pan and put out all ingredients; mushrooms that would have to leave your fridge soon anyways, risotto rice, onion and garlic. the simplicity as so beautiful to ellie.

„let me help.“

and so she cut the mushrooms and washed the rice while you took care of the onions and garlic. the two of you laughed and made fun of each other’s cutting skills while emptying your wine glasses and watching the risotto take form.

„that‘d actually pretty bomb!“

you exclaimed while taking the first bite, already half way down on the second wine glass.

„ellie, we are a great team in the kitchen!“

ellie smiled, agreeing with you.

„like hell, we are!“

you spend your dinner laughing and talking about all sorts of things. friends, memories, drunk accidents that were embarrassing. it felt so light to finally not have business talks with people she couldn’t care less about.

after washing the dishes, and pouring a third glass of wine, you took the conversation to your small but comfortable couch.

and it got late, waaaay too late. and the snow kept falling, causing the streets to be white.

„you shouldn’t be driving home tonight.“

you said, looking at the streets while ellie smoked a cigarette on your balcony.

„nah, i will be fine. i don’t want to take up your space.“

„no ellie, i mean it. we drank, it‘s snowy. it would be better for you to sleep here.“

after a while of convincing, she finally agreed, snapping her cigarette off your balcony.

„and you get to spend more time with me. feel honoured!“

you joked, not knowing that it was exactly what she wanted. to spend more time with you, in this carefree environment. where she can be herself, where she can be just ellie and doesn‘t have to be ellie williams - ceo of miller enterprises.

after finishing the last glass of wine, you decided to call it a night. you gave ellie a hoodie from your closet and a pair of pyjama pants before brushing your teeth in the bathroom and doing your daily skincare. when you returned, you laughed a little. she looked so cute in your huge uni hoodie and the fluffy pj pants.

„why are you laughing?!“

„im just used to seeing you in business clothing. but this is adorable!“

she rolled her eyes and took the spare toothbrush you held in her direction.

„fuck off !“

one more laughter left your throat before you prepared the bed for two. luckily it was big enough. although your couch was comfortable, it was small and most likely would break either your or ellies back when sleeping a night on it.

so you shared a bed. after all, thats nothing to worry about, right?

both of you kind of awkward tugged in before facing each other. the wine did make all of this less awkward. once again you noticed how pretty ellie was. the freckles and little eyebrow scar.. her long lashes that made her green eyes even prettier, her auburn hair that hugger her face perfectly.. she was perfect.

and she thought the same about you. her hand reached out to your face and tugged a piece of your hair behind your ear. oh how she wanted to kiss you - yet she didn’t, not knowing you wanted it too.

“good night, ellie.”

“night, ______.”

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

THERE WE GOOOOO. different from what i wanted, but i hope you enjoy ✧*:.｡.

part 4 is here ! ! bye bye xx

taglist: @harrysslutsstuff @vwonnie @mikaaj @elliewilliamsgf69 @weridcattty @feelsoseencantdream @honeymoonbbie @katymae12344 @aouiaa @bbglmfao

#ceo ! ellie #ellie williams tlou #tlou ellie #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 ellie #ellie x reader

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 6 months

Text

IS THERE A VERSION OF JOEL MILLER I WOULDN'T FUCK?

[a case study in how thirsty i am for this man.] [aka fic recommendations]

Unfortunately, in my extensive research on this topic, I have found some pretty damning evidence against my sanity.

dad's best friend!joel miller x fem!reader

Your Summer Dream [masterlist] by @swiftispunk It is a scientific fact that if you place Joel Miller on a beach he becomes 100x hotter. I don't make the rules, I just report them.

Creep it Real! by @swiftispunk I am a puddle. I melted and I'm a shallow pathetic puddle. Cowboy and Angel. I just hnnnnnggggg. I need him to ruin me pls dear god.

*I'm realizing if i include all the DBF!JM i read this will get very long, very quickly, and i think i have revealed enough of myself on this blog to highlight my very obvious daddy issues

**speaking of daddy issues...

stepdad!joel miller x fem!reader

Don't Be Cute, Be Nasty by @cockslutpadalecki i'm pretty sure this was the first stepdad!joel miller anything i read and it awoke something in my soul. it's always fun to reach new levels of my daddy issues and BY GOD was this just 🫠

Bad Girl [part i of many] by @seventeenpins he walks in on her while she's watching stepdaddy porn and good lord it gets filthier and filthier in the best kind of way.

boyfriend's dad!joel miller x fem!reader

Lost in the Dark [masterlist] by @iamasaddie i expected to be a slut reading this but then it made me an emotional slut out of nowhere i am obsessed. there is nothing i love more than being drawn in by my thots only to be hit by an emotional bus out of nowhere.

Thigh's Out AU [masterlist] by @toxicanonymity not only is this a boyfriend's dad AU, but said boyfriend's dad is a hot and slutty. just like i like my dilfs.

father-in-law!joel miller x fem!reader

Pink [masterlist] by @netherfeildren holy fuck. that's all. just holy fuck. this altered my genetic makeup.

Help, I'm Stuck! by @nosesitter spoiler alert: he takes her wedding ring off before dicking her down and I-- 👀 send help.

***i didn't think i had a lot of significant other's father!joel miller in my repertoire, but i had to stop myself again from listing them all on this one otherwise we'd be here all day. shit, i'm learning things about myself 🤡

dark therapist!joel miller x fem!reader

Session 1 by @elvinaa i think this only highlights how badly i need an actual therapist (as does this entire list actually).

sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader

Meet Me in the Back (1) & The Night is Dark Enough ... (2) written by @atticrissfinch It does not bode well for me that this version of Joel Miller made me so fucking feral. In no way, shape, nor form should a sleazy gas station clerk make me feel this way AND YET HERE WE ARE.

tattoo artist!joel miller x fem!reader

Honeyed [masterlist] by @softlyspector This one absolutely hits too close to home for me, but that's probably why I'm so obsessed with it. My touch adverse yet touch starved ass ate this up and left no crumbs😌

chiro!joel miller x fem!reader

Say Yes to Heaven by @pascalisbaby i thought the medical side of my brain would cringe at the doctor/patient dynamic but as it turns out my depravity knows no bounds 🥵

frat dad!joel miller x fem!reader

The Old College Try by @proxima-writes i didn't even know this was something i needed in my life until it came into my life. blessings🙏🏼

ceo!joel miller x fem!reader

Sex on Fire [masterlist] by @macfrog i don't think i need to harp on what that sugar daddy vibes do to me🤤

mafia!joel miller x fem!reader

Divine Dynasty by @cavillscurls Remember when I said putting Joel by a body of water makes him 100x hotter? The same applies to a Mafia AU. I can't explain it. I have no sound reasoning to support my claim other than "he hot tho".

pornstar!joel miller x fem!reader

I Know it When I See it [masterlist] by @bageldaddy 🔥🔥🔥 that is all.

maintenance man!joel miller x fem!reader

Maintenance Man [masterlist] by @gracieispunk toolbelt. say less.

slasher!joel miller x fem!reader

Slasher [masterlist] by @toxicanonymity i thought for sure, FOR SURE, this would be blind, pure, detached smut that i could enjoy with no emotional ties whatsoever. and then all of a sudden i'm feeling things??? he just loves his mom so much😭 mama's boy wants to be happy. JAIL. real jail for murderer joel miller. horny jail for me. and audacity jail for toxic b/c how dare you make me feel things for a serial killer😩

as i said previously, the evidence speaks for itself. i have yet to find a version of joel miller i could not immediately fuck. i'm actually planning (i have a lot of plans and no time smh), to go through all these on my recommendation blog w/play by play commentary so everyone can know just how unhinged i am for this guy.

but now!! you guys have a syllabus for my insanity!!

now, excuse me while i go find a therapist (a real one, not a hot/dark joel miller version of one) (although beggars can't be choosers right?👀)

dividers by @saradika

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fic rec

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coolaboutlucy · 3 months

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𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: nepo baby!business owner!ellie williams x afab!business owner!reader

tags: smut, fingering (r receiving), pet names/name calling?? (dirty girl, pretty, good girl, baby), slight praise??, god why is tagging so hard, mild language, unethical business practices??, thoughts are green, ellie lowk an asshole, but both reader and ellie are pretty harsh to eachother, maybe that’s it, bare with me if i forget something pls. 😭🙏

a/n: i wrote this directly on tumblr bc i did NAWT feel like pulling up google docs today saur the format might be a lil off. i was watching this show on netflix called ‘locked up’, and like an episode from season two is what inspired this!!! 😜 the show is good honestly it just drags on sometimes!!! ive actually never actually written smut any times before this (believe it or not hehe) anyways, let’s get into it!!!

P.S - DEDICATED TO @sweetysaccharine YAWP YAWP!!!! <333 HOPE U ENJOY POOKIEEEE

P.P.S - don’t look at the typos or i will find you (IM JOKING)

rumors traveled fast, and sometimes it wasn’t always good. for one, they could be infuriating. a company you’d been toe to toe with for.. quite some time had gotten a new ceo. some young girl. articles appeared online about some kinda nepotism scandal. the photo on the top of the article displayed a photo of the previous ceo — joel miller, and the new owner, ellie. they looked happy. but why were they accused of something as harmful as nepotism? long story short, joel turned his brother down for the position (even though he was the better option) so ellie could have it. favoritism of sorts. but god was she infuriating! her stupid, flashy displays of wealth (that probably didn’t even belong to her) made you so mad! and also, her arrogance and her constant need to compete with you was very infuriating aswell. you had influence, she had money. wouldn’t these things be considered as a double kill in some perfect world? yes. would you ever even consider working with someone like her? absolutely not. you couldn’t even stand being in the same vicinity as her whenever you two ended up at the same social events.

imagine that terrible, ugly feeling of anger that coursed hot through your veins once finding out she’d brought possibly one of the biggest clients you could’ve ever had. it was one thing for her to shove it in your face that she was wealthy but this? she’d completely overstepped. storming your way through the companies large building, you find yourself at her offices door knocking like a madwoman. “open the goddamn door, williams!” you yell as you attempt to open the door on your own. she doesn’t say anything, but you’re just almost certain she’s smirking or something. she opens the door with this.. look. it was weird. a perfect mixture of condescending, arrogance, and ‘i know what i did and i don’t regret it’. “are you insane?” “mm.. yeah. i guess so.” you laugh, dumbfounded by her. “how bout you come into my office for a seat and a drink?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “let’s handle this civilly, shall we? knowing you, i have the feeling that this could get real ugly.” she pushed open the door with that same condescending/arrogant smile. of course, reluctantly, you walk inside. maybe this could be resolved civilly.

the sound of some smooth music played. it sounded like micheal buble or something. she walks around her desk to pour you a glass of bourbon. she hands it to and you just hold it. “it’s not poisoned, see?” she says before taking a sip. you take a sip and of it before putting the glass on her desk. “so, i realized that.. i have something you want.” the something being that client. “why else would i be here? that was a really petty move and you know that.” she chuckled. “yknow, i could just.. refer them back to you.” initially, you’re in disbelief. ellie? being generous? no way. she must’ve completely lost it. “but! it comes with a price.” of course it does. nothing was free, not in this economy. you kept your expectations low for this very reason. you raise an eyebrow at her. “we could work together. become business partners.”

she turns her music up a little. she dances her way over to you, circling you a bit. “no chance, ellie. how could i ever work with someone like you?” she chuckled again. “why wouldn’t you work with ‘someone like me’? you have something that i want aswell.” “what?” “power. influence. however you may wanna word it. i admire that.” it had to be some sick joke. why would she wanna work with you? “shouldn’t all your daddys money be more than enough to keep you in a position of power?” you quarry, then crossing your arms. a part of you didn’t believe that she’d been the one asking you for help.

“just think about it. me, giving you money. you, drawing power hungry clients in with that pretty face of yours. we’d work together like yin and yang.” she proposed before taking another sip of the drink in her glass. that was her giving a go at an analogy. was it good? she didn’t know. did she care? not at all. “you bullshitting me, williams?” “not at all. all you gotta do.. is say ‘yes’. cmon.” she offers her hand, those pretty slender fingers and that tattoo that peeking from underneath that black button up shirt were just so.. enticing. you were in your head, just thinking. was this a good idea? could i trust her? she probably has bad intentions. but she was so tempting. this had to be one of the seven deadly sins or something.

she snaps infront of your face. “where’d you go?” she asks. “nowhere.” you respond quickly. “so, you taking the offer or not? or.. will i have to convince you?” she takes a step closer to you. temptation taints your brain.

you’re not in control of your thoughts anymore. ellie was.

her hand seeks solace on your waist. “shouldn’t finding business like this be considered illegal?” you whisper to her. “im not a law abiding woman. and quite frankly, i don’t give two shits.” maybe it wouldn’t be illegal if nobody knew. but all you thought about was her. how she smells. how she’s looking at you. how her hands feel on your body. you can’t stop yourself. your lips crash down onto hers. your fingers tangle in her auburn hair as the both of you kiss passionately. she brings you to her desk, knocking stuff over as she sat you on her desk.

glass shattered, pictures were knocked out of their frames, and her computer mouse was.. somewhere. your back arches into her touch as you let out a soft moan into her mouth. she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. in the competition of dominance between your tongues, she reigns supreme. her hands slide up your body and end up on your oxford button up shirt. she doesn’t unbutton it, she rips that shit open. “i’ll get you a new one.” she mumbled as the buttons from the shirt scatter across the room.

“you’d better. or else id have to come back here and get it by force.” “oh please, you’ll be back here for more reasons than a goddamn shirt.” she said as she peppers kisses down to your jawline, then your neck. “don’t leave any marks.” “but why?” “oh, i dunno, cause i don’t want anyone asking me who i had sex with?” “who gives a shit? your workers get paid to look the other way, don’t they?”

well, she makes a good point. and you can’t argue with a point as valid as that. she sinks her teeth into a sweet spot of your neck, making you moan out as she runs her tongue along the new mark. she sticks her tongue out again to run it all the way down to one of your boobs. the sensation makes you shiver. “wore this pretty bra for me, didntcha? you were just expecting this. you must’ve wanted me to touch you like this, didn’t you? dirty girl. must’ve been waiting for me to bend you over this table.” she rambled all while stripping you of your bra, then leaving soft kisses and licks across the valley of your breasts.

she takes her time, making you wait for it. she knew what she was doing to you, and she was going to make you wait. “ellie, you’re going soo slow! you know what i want.” you whine as she leaves kisses and bites all over your exposed skin. “tell me what you want or you’ll get nothing. tell me where you want me.” she whispered. “i want your fingers.” “where?” “you know where.” “tell me or you get nothing.” you hesitate for a moment before saying feebly. “in.. in my pussy..” “that’s a good girl.”

she smiles as she pushes her hands into your slacks. she could feel your wetness. “i got you this worked up, huh? who knew little miss perfect could get this wet over me, a ‘nepo baby’?” she teased with a cocky smile. she slowly slides your slacks and underwear all the way down to your ankles before she applies a delicious amount of pressure to your clit. you gasp, your hand wrapping around her wrist. “oh, you like that do you, huh? you want more? fucking beg for it. cmon.” she applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing small and soft circles as her fingers ghost your sopping entrance. “oh— please ellie, i need more. give me more.” “gonna take more than that, baby.” you whine when she suddenly takes all that pressure away from you.

you let out another whine as you attempt to rut against her hand. her free hand slaps your thigh as she shakes her head in disapproval. “none of that. keep still. you get nothing until you beg like a good girl.” “please, please. ill do anything. just please touch me.” she chuckles at you. she found it cute how you were so desperate to chase that pleasure. “god, you’re so desperate. you need it so.. goddamn bad, don’t you?” she lets out a grunt in the middle of her sentence as she suddenly plunged into your pussy.

as she moves her fingers, she groans at how wet her you were. first she starts with middle finger, then adding her ring finger. her long fingers are hitting that sweet spot in you. she was making you see stars. “listen to yourself. look at ‘er, she’s crying for me.” she coos as she speeds her pace. you moan out. “watch me, baby.” you slowly look down at her fingers plunging in and out of you. sounds of wet squelching fill your ears. you bite your lip and you toss your head back as you let out a moan. you grind yourself down onto her fingers, chasing that wonderful and blissful orgasm.

you felt a pressure building up in your stomach. your eyes were fluttering open and shut. everytime you looked away, she stopped. you made sure to not look away. once that pressure in your stomach felt like it was gonna release, your moans became more broken. “ellie! ellie— oh fuck! ellie! im gonna cum! don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you say between moans as you bring your hand back down to hold her wrist in place.

“oh yeah? gonna cum? let go for me. make a mess on my fingers. cmon. i know you can do it.” she said as she kept her pace at that same one that was making you see stars. she’d been rambling something to you, talking you through it as she watched you cum all over her fingers. she helps you ride out your orgasm, a slight tremble in your legs becoming more apparent.

“what do we say?” “thank you.” she smiled as she pulled her fingers out. the sudden loss makes you whine. she sucks her fingers clean and you watch as her tongue runs across the length of her fingers. “still being a tease, williams?” you ask as you look at her while she does it. “mm.. well no, i dont think so. just savouring how good you taste.” when she was finally satisfied, she drops her hands. “so, you finally ready to stop being so stubborn and take the deal?” “not a chance if it means we get to have sex like this.” you respond with a chuckle. “maybe you need to be fucked again, hm?” she ask with a smile.

needless to say, you’d went another time, and on the third you fucked ellie. eventually you come to some sort of agreement after you’d been laid on her leather sofa, naked and feeling like you were floating. the only question you had now is what the hell had you gotten into. “will this turn into a scandal?” you ask. “.. probably not if we keep this under wraps.” she responds as she puts her head in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. “plus, yknow i can just pay the media off right? they won’t say anything. not a peep.” she reassured as she smiled softly.

#wlfabby #tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us part two #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #ellie x afab!reader #ellie smut #tlou x reader smut

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macfrog · 9 months

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sex on fire | masterlist

ceo!joel miller x f!reader | ao3 | playlist

you've worked for joel miller for three years now, as his personal assistant. answering calls, organizing his schedule, fulfilling every request he could dream of. it pays well, you know you're good at it, and you get along with all of your coworkers. there's just one you get along with...a little too well.

please check out individual chapter content warnings before reading!!! this series features adult content.

series warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel is late 40s), inappropriate work relationship, cursing, alcohol + dr*g use, displays of wealth, daddy kink, sugardaddy!joel, themes of abandonment, mentions of pregnancy & periods, smut, angst, fluff.

main series

chapter 1: you shook me all night long

chapter 2: state-of-the-art

chapter 3: mile high

chapter 4: la petite mort

chapter 5: faire l'amour

chapter 6: ace

chapter 7: 1691 maple

chapter 8: you'll hurt me if you don't trust me

chapter 9: little aphrodite

✨ chapter 10: champagne problems ✨

chapter 11: coming soon!

chapter 12

epilogue

bonus

➵ hanging on the telephone

drabbles

➵ joel taking reader on his sailboat

features ➵ sex on fire wallpapers by @dundienominee

➵ sex on fire moodboard by @5oh5

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blissfulbarbie · 7 months

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Scary Husband Privileges / Joel Miller x Reader

Description: No outbreak AU. Joel hates your boss. Hates him. What was meant to be a day off for the both of you, turns into Joel grumpily driving you to work and meeting you for lunch. And then you bump into your boss.

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: This was inspired by @cruelfvkingsummer's grumpy!husband!Joel prompt ! All credit for the original idea goes to them.

"Who do you think would win in a fight, me or Mr. Weasel?" "Wessell. And the answer is neither of you because it's never gonna happen." "No, but if–" "Joel, you are not fighting my boss. Not even in your head. Got it?" "But he's a fucking-" "Joel." "Fine."

Unbeknownst to the wealthy CEO, there was a one-sided beef going on between a Mr. Joel Miller and Mr. Carter Wessell. Mr Wessell is your boss at the publishing company you've been working at for the past year, and Joel does not like that man. Mr. Wessell is too comfortable asking you to work overtime without giving you the chance to say no and not approving your days off even when you work more days than any of the other employees in the company. Despite being married, his eyes also tend to wander when you are around, and you find yourself trying to avoid being alone with him. His suggestive comments and "friendly touches" toe the line of being inappropriate. Of course, Joel doesn't know this part because if he did, he would set fire to your office building.

Today is one of those days where you tried to request a day off, which was denied by your boss. You wanted the day off to spend with Joel as he had arranged a day off work too. But your boss insisted that he needed you at work to complete an "urgent task."

Joel's phone alarm blares relentlessly, ripping through the morning's peace. Grumbling under his breath, he slaps the off button. The room is bathed in a soft, golden glow as he looks over at you, still fast asleep beside him. Cautiously, he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle for a man with such a gruff exterior.

Joel gets up, careful not to wake you, and heads to the bathroom. The cold shower sends shivers down his spine, but it’s enough to wake him up, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. Your boss had refused to let you take the day off so you could spend it together, and it's gnawing at him.

Dressing in his usual jeans and a plain t-shirt, he can't shake off the frustration. He was so looking forward to spending the day with you. Why does some stuffy old man in a suit get to decide whether or not you get to spend the day with your husband?

As he descends the creaking stairs, Joel can't help but sigh. Despite all of his annoyance, he was going to make this the best damn work day as possible for you. He'd start by making you breakfast. The sizzle of the frying pan fills the kitchen, filling him with the smell of victory. I can do this. I can make today good.

As Joel daydreams about different methods of torture for your boss, you appear at the kitchen door, hair tousled, and a sleepy smile on your face. "Morning. You're up early. You should've slept in." You walk up behind him and give him a kiss on his back before taking your place at the dining table.

Joel grunts a vague response, not wanting to make a big deal out of the fact that he woke up earlier than he would have, just to make you breakfast before you head off to work. He places the food in front of you, kisses the top of your head, and tucks your hair behind your ears before sitting down next to you.

"Your boss is a real piece of work," he grumbles.

You smile sadly, clearly sharing his frustration, but you attempt to diffuse his irritation. "I'll talk to him, Joel. But we won't let this ruin our day, okay?" Finally, he gets a day off from his job, and all he wants to do is spend it with you, and he can't. Your heart aches.

Joel nods, his eyes softening just a fraction. "Yeah, yeah. I just think you deserve a break. You work so hard.”

You nod. “You know, despite my boss being a Grade A asshole, I really do like my job. And the money is good."

Joel nods silently in response. He can’t deny that. Ever since you got this job, you've both been living more comfortably than before. You got the kitchen renovated and managed to build him a shed to work on his woodwork projects. He loves it.

And God, he's so damn proud of you. You don’t know this, but he brags to all the guys at work about his wife who works in a swanky new building in town and has her own office. "Where's your girl?" they ask when you miss out on a get-together they're having. "She's still working. Yeah, they're starting a new project, and she's leading it, so they need her there. Important stuff," he replies with a serious look on his face, but his heart swells with pride. My wife is so fucking cool, he finds himself thinking often.

After the dishes are washed, and you've finished your coffee, you move to get the car keys. "Okay, I should get going. Thanks for breakfast, sweetheart. We're still having lunch together, right?”

Joel gets up with you and snatches the car keys from your hands. “I’ll drive. And yes, we are having lunch together.”

“Joel, go rest. I can drive–”

Already at the doorway by this point, Joel keeps walking towards the car and yells back at you, “Clock’s ticking, slowpoke. Don’t wanna be late. Get your ass in the car now.”

You shake your head, racing towards the car with your grumpy husband already in the driver’s seat, honking the horn like a lunatic and probably waking the whole neighborhood up.

Joel’s jaw is set with determination as he drives. He wants to spend every minute of his off day with you because that was the whole reason he took the day off in the first place. If that means driving through rush hour traffic to get you to work, so be it.

"You didn't have to do this, you know," you mumbled.

Joel gave a curt nod. "Damn right. That’s what makes me such a good husband.”

You smile and nod in agreement. As the car pulls up to a stop in front of the building, Joel turns to you.

“I'll pick you up later for lunch. Remember. We. Are. Having. Lunch. Together.” He enunciates each word loudly and clearly.

“I know, Joel.” You smile. Even through his grumpy old man antics, you can’t help but find him adorable.

“And that means, you say no if Mr Weasel–”

“Wessell.”

“Weasel asks you to go out for lunch with him and the team. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And if he insists that you go along, you give him my number and tell him to talk to me. Yes?”

“No.”

“Baby–”

You cut him off with a kiss on the lips. “I’ll be there. I love you. See you later.”

After you finish your lunch, you and Joel are walking back to the car, fingers laced together. You round a corner, and suddenly, you both catch a glimpse of Mr. Wessell exiting the restaurant opposite the street. The man was in the middle of a heated phone call, his face reddening as he yelled into the phone.

Joel's eyes narrow, and he clenches his jaw, his blood pressure rising. Although they’d never met, Joel recognized him from the company Facebook page that he only followed to see pictures of you at work. He couldn't help but scoff, "Now we can’t even go for lunch without seeing that dumbass?”

You're quick to intervene. You cup your hand over Joel’s mouth and whisper, "Shut up, he might hear you.”

With a hand cupped over his mouth, Joel didn’t look very menacing, but he made sure to shoot a glare at the man who was still distractedly yelling into his phone.

You tug on Joel's arm, trying to pull him away. "Come on, let's go, little bulldog. Down boy."

Joel reluctantly gets dragged by you, your hand still cupped over his mouth. His voice comes out muffled as he glances back at your boss saying, "I’m gonna destroy him with my mind."

You keep dragging him along as you say in a placating voice. "Oh, I’m sure you can. Big scary grumpy old man. Now let’s stop playing John Wick and get to the car.”

Joel narrows his eyes at you. You release his mouth and turn to face the street. You chuckle softly as you walk back to the car together. Your scary husband privileges amuse you to no end. It’s funny, but it’s also reassuring to know that he has your back if things go south.

"I am kinda like John Wick." Joel mumbles as you walk hand in hand back to the car.

"Joel, we are not having this conversation again. You are not like John Wick."

"No, you're right. I'm better."

Tag list: @just-some-random-blogger @joeldjarin @pattwtf

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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stylesispunk · 5 months

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"would you kiss me under the mistletoe?"

Ceo!Joel Miller x f! Reader

summary: Christmas is coming, and the annual party at the company might be the night you get to kiss your boss. Warnings: none. Just fluff. word count: 3k>

a/n: I wrote this one yesterday during my break, so since Christmas is around the corner I got inspired by the magical spirit, I hope you enjoy it 🤞💌 reblogs and comments are always appreciated.

masterlist

dividers by @/plum98

Christmas wasn’t special for you. You had never celebrated the night over dinner surrounded by your family, at least not since you were a kid.

The holiday season was just a reminder of the absence of belonging somewhere, to a home, and those sweat-warm nights with your family had been left behind, the laughter, and the joy of the anticipated wait for Santa was just a tear slipping down your heart, becoming memories fading away each passing year.

But you still love it. You loved the twinkling lights, finding solace in the love filling the air, even in people losing their minds over finding an important gift to give to their loved ones. And you just loved the scent of freshly baked cookies, and the songs playing on the radio. You just found magic in the season in a certain way, creating your little bubble of coziness inside the four walls of your apartment.

Even at work, the lights and decorations seemed to envelop the place into a festive atmosphere that made your heart melt.

The days leading up to the company's annual Christmas party create the joyful spirit of the upcoming holidays in the atmosphere. Everyone around you received lovely greetings and well-wishes from your coworkers. You couldn't help but admire and smile at the picture because it was the closest you could get to being surrounded by a crowd during these days. Before returning home to an empty apartment with a tiny Christmas tree in the corner of your living room, next to a door and a picture of you and your mother who was thousands of kilometers away.

You were engrossed in your own self-pity and didn't notice Joel approaching you. He'd been your employer for the previous year and a half, and his cute face had been on your mind from the day you walked into this office for the first time, and his kind personality didn't help you get rid of the crush you'd developed on him.

Joel, seemingly oblivious to your internal struggles, flashed a warm smile. "Hey you”

You, shaken from your thoughts, managed a smile in return. “Mr. Miller”

Joel chuckled, “How many times I’ve told you just to call me Joel”

"I-I know, it's just... force of habit, I guess." You stuttered, feeling the red rushing into your cheeks.

Joel's laughter filled the air, and he leaned casually against your desk. "So, any exciting plans for the holidays?"

You sighed, glancing toward the horizon, almost picturing the small Christmas tree in your apartment, the twinkling lights casting a soft glow in the dark "Not really. Just the usual. Quiet night at home, maybe watch some movies."

He laughed, perhaps thinking it was just a joke.

“Are you coming to the party tomorrow, right?” he asked you, his eyes shone under the soft light of the day.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I'll be there. It's a good time."

"Great! Looking forward to it," Joel said with a smile, the kindness in his eyes reflecting a genuine excitement “Besides, secret Santa tomorrow? Exciting!”

You beamed at him, lost in the urge to kiss him right now, and ending with the thoughts that had tormented you for over a year. "Yeah, I guess so," you said. "Last year I had Betty, I'm glad she liked the present I got for her"

"That's because you're attentive and nice," he explained, "and everyone here is aware of it. "This is why we all love you."

Your eyes widened, and your heart stopped beating.

"I mean, why do they love you," he clarified, clearing his throat.

He panicked when you didn't respond.

"And you're my best employee." he added, trying to dismiss the words that escaped from his lips "My favorite," he added, just to make you smile.

As Joel's words remained in the air, the hot flush spread across your cheeks.

"Yeah," you said, your voice a little lower than normal. " Thank you, Joel. I'm grateful."

He grinned, obviously oblivious to the effect his words had on you.

Then, the conversation shifted to work-related topics, yet the questions lingered.

Why does he appear more excited about my presence this time? You questioned yourself.

The next day, the sharp winter frost made you shudder, and the frozen ground, now draped in a white cloak, rushed the coolness into your rose cheeks, leaving you with a soft blush of pink color on your skin.

However, soon you entered the workplace, you were embraced by the warm atmosphere of everyone gathered together, and all the cold bones in your body melted. The lights and laughter were buzzing with excitement for the approaching party.

As you approached your office, everybody greeted you with infectious smiles that made your heart skip a beat. When you arrived at your desk, your eyes were caught up by a small, carefully packaged gift placed in front of your computer. You couldn't stop yourself from being curious.

“I hope you wear these at the party tonight”

-Your secret Santa

The corners of your mouth curled in a smile. It was a nice gesture, and you couldn't help but appreciate the time and effort that went into selecting such an appropriate and beautiful gift for you.

You caught yourself stealing glances at everyone throughout the day, wondering who may be your secret Santa. All you wanted was for it to be Joel.

Amid your thoughts, one of your colleagues, Lisa, burst into your office with an animated expression. "Hey there! So, who's your secret Santa? spill the beans!"

Lisa's enthusiasm made you chuckle, a combination of enjoyment and a little embarrassment. "Well, Lisa, it's a secret. That is the entire purpose of Secret Santa."

"Hey, what's all this excitement about?" Joel inquired; his tone lighthearted as he stepped further into the room.

Lisa, unable to contain her curiosity, smiled at him. "We're attempting to determine who this lady's Secret Santa is!" "Do you have any ideas?"

Joel pretended to be innocent for a minute, scratching his chin as if deep in contemplation. "Hmm, let me think about it." Isn't it a real mystery?"

You flashed him a playful gaze, thinking he was hiding something.

"Oh, Joel, come on. You can't keep us waiting forever." Joel's face softened into a discrete giggle as Lisa demanded. "All right, okay. I might know something."

Lisa's eyes expanded with excitement. "Of course, you're in charge!

You lifted an eyebrow, meeting Joel's gaze. "How do you know this?"Spill it!"

Joel leaned in, his voice low, as if passing on an exclusive secret to you. "Well, I heard your Secret Santa got you something just perfect." Something that will make you happy."

You lifted an eyebrow, meeting Joel's gaze. "And how do you know that?"

He laughed. "Let's just say I have my sources"

Lisa giggled, fascinated with the enigma "So, do you have any guesses, Joel?"

Joel pretended to think for a bit, then smirked and pointed at himself. " We'll find out at the party, I'm sure." The secret will stay till then. That's our tradition"

Just as Joel was going to say something else, Tess's voice echoed from a distance, desperately calling out for Joel. Tess and Joel exchanged a few words before Joel excused himself to join her, leaving Lisa and you behind.

Once Tess and Joel were out of earshot, Lisa turned to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You know, those two would make such a hot couple, don't you think?"

Your heart sank a little at the thought, and you managed a weak smile, trying to brush off the sudden wave of emotions. "Yeah, they do seem to get along well."

It was true though, starting by Tess being Joel's business parter to her being gorgeous and closer in age to Joel, they had always gotten along. They had the same kind of fancy life, they had always traveled together everywhere and shared time beyond office hours. They were just made for each other, but that didn't mean it hurt you less.

As the workday came to an end, you and Lisa couldn't get your minds off the upcoming Christmas party. The light interaction with Joel added an extra element of enticement, and the mystery surrounding your Secret Santa kept the optimistic mood intact.

When noon arrived, you and Lisa exchanged stressed glances before heading home to prepare for the evening's festivities. The excitement swelled within you as you went out into the cool winter air, and you couldn't help but wonder what surprises the night wold unfold.

So, once you get home, you carefully pick an ideal dress for the occasion. The dress you chose was a deep emerald green with delicate sparkles that would capture the light of the night. It moved with flow, reflecting the essence of the season. You paired it with the silver earrings your Secret Santa had given to you to wear tonight.

Later that evening, as you approached the building, the bright lights and festive decorations revealed the start of a beautiful night ahead. The sweet smell of festive treats filled the air, and cheerful chattering boomed around the venue.

You were greeted by the warm glow of fairy lights and the enthusiastic energy of your coworkers as you entered the party. The area had been transformed into a winter wonderland, with the season's magic filling every corner.

Joel, dressed in a traditional black suit, stood near the entrance, smiling as he welcomed everyone. A small connection lingered when your eyes met his, in a timid exchange of smiles between the both of you, anticipating the red flush of your cheeks.

Once inside the party, the atmosphere was electrifying. The sparkling bulbs, giggles, and music generated a happy atmosphere. Coworkers chatted while exchanging anecdotes and enjoying the festivities.

As the Secret Santa reveal arrived, you found yourself scanning the room for a glimpse of Joel. The mystery of the gift, as well as his fun demeanor, had piqued your curiosity.

Joel subsequently joined the guests, arm in arm with Tess, your heart tugged at the sight, however, his eyes met yours, and he smiled at you, timidly.

You didn't mirror his expression, instead, you focused on what was happening in front of you instead, at the moment of Secret Santa reveals.

The room buzzed with anticipation as each person shared and received their gifts. You couldn't help but appreciate the effort and consideration that went into choosing each present, smiling at the thought of it.

When it was finally Joel's turn, everyone was expectant. Since he was the boss, all the employees wanted to know who was the lucky person receiving the gift of the head of the company.

He stood in the middle of the room, with a beautiful wrapped box. The anticipation in the room grew as you, along with everyone else, awaited the revelation.

Then, he walked toward you, handing over the carefully wrapped box. The entire room seemed to stop breathing, and all eyes were on you and Joel.

The room seemed to fade into background noise, and all focus was on this exchange between you and your boss.

You could feel the strong beating of your heart in your chest, leaving a way for blood to rush all over your cheeks.

"Looks like I got the honor of being your Secret Santa," Joel replied, his eyes twinkling.

You smiled at him, receiving the gift in your hands. A delicate friction between your hands sent shivers down all over your spine.

As you unwrapped the gift, you discovered a charming necklace, a delicate pendant that caught the light of the room on it.

Joel's gaze was drawn to yours, and a real smile flickered across his lips. It had a delicate beauty to it; the unspoken connection you and Joel shared grew in that right away, but only both of you could feel it.

Before you could utter a thank you, everyone in the place cheered, and Tess came, leaning over to Joel and whispered something into his ear as applauses kept feeling the room. He nodded in return, his gaze fixed on you, walking away with Tess. and you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at that.

But the party had to continue, and you found yourself engaged in conversations with your colleagues, even when your thoughts kept d drifting back to Joel and his gift.

As the night progressed, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you saw Tess, wearing a mischievous grin. "Joel's Secret Santa choice was spot on, don't you think?"

You smiled a hint of blush on your cheeks. "Yeah, it was a really beautiful gift."

Tess leaned in a little closer. "He put a lot of thought into it. You can tell. It matches your earrings"

Tess pointed out the matching elegance of the pendant with your earrings, and your smile widened. The subtle coordination hadn't gone unnoticed by you, and it offered a further level of appreciation for Joel's considerate choice.

Tess laughed, her suspicious grin persistent on her face. "You should know that Joel isn't just good with gifts." He's been talking a lot about you."

You couldn't help but raise your brows in surprise, and you couldn't help but feel a curiosity"Really? "What exactly has he been saying?"

Tess shrugged, her humorous look still on her face. "Oh, he just thinks you're pretty amazing at your job and stuff. However, you did not hear it from me."

After that, Tess went away, leaving you with an increased feeling of affection and awe.

Later that night, while you were drowned in a sea of joyful beams and festive ornaments, you felt a soft tap on your shoulder. When you turned around, you saw Joel standing there with a real grin on his face.

"Hey there," he greeted, his eyes reflecting warmth. "I hope you're having a good time."

You returned his smile, the connection between you palpable. "Yeah, it's been great. Your gift was really thoughtful. Thank you."

Joel's eyes held a glint of appreciation. "I'm glad you liked it"

"It was really beautiful" you whispered, touched by the sincerity of his gesture.

"I just thought it would complete the set," he replied, his eyes holding yours.

Joel lifted his hand, and his fingers delicately tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, a soft heat spread through you. The air around you seemed charged with a different energy, and the festive lights of the party contributed to a magical moment.

"Thank you, Joel," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The connection between you felt more profound with each passing second.

Joel's gaze lingered on yours, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. The world around you faded away.

“You look breathtaking tonight”

A warmth spread across your cheeks at Joel's compliment, his words adding a touch of sincerity to the already enchanting evening. The festive lights and laughter seemed to dim in comparison to the connection you shared in that moment.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a genuine appreciation for his kind words. "You don't look too bad yourself in that suit," you added playfully, a smile dancing on your lips.

Joel chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. "Well, I figured a classic suit is always a safe bet for these occasions."

You nodded, the emerald green dress and silver earrings reflecting the joy in your eyes.

Joel's gaze held a twinkle in his eye. "Having a good time?"

"Absolutely. And thank you again for the lovely earrings. They're perfect."

Joel's smile widened, and he glanced around the festive atmosphere. "I'm glad you like them. It's the least I could do for my favorite employee."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, you felt the weight of their meaning.

Joel, with a genuine smile, continued the conversation. "So, any exciting plans for the holidays? Family gatherings, maybe?"

You chuckled, a hint of wistfulness in your response. "Not really. It's just going to be a quiet Christmas at home. I've gotten used to spending it alone."

Joel's genuine smile faltered slightly, replaced by a look of surprise and concern. "You're kidding, right?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine disbelief.

You shrugged, trying to downplay the weight of your words. "No, it's true. Christmas has never been a big celebration for me. I'm used to spending it alone, just enjoying the quiet."

His eyes searched yours for a moment, a mix of understanding and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "Well, that's not right. Christmas is a time for joy and togetherness. No one should be alone during the holidays."

You appreciated his concern, but a part of you felt a little embarrassed for sharing such a personal detail. "It's okay, really. I find my own ways to make it special. Movies, maybe a good book, you know."

Joel nodded, and his smile softened, and he excused himself to make a call, leaving you momentarily alone in the midst of the festive celebration. As you stood there, a sense of vulnerability washed over you, wondering if you had shared too much with him.

As you stood there, waiting for Joel to return after what felt like an eternity, a sense of disappointment settled in. The celebration continued around you, but a subtle shift in the atmosphere made everything feel a bit less magical for you.

After about ten minutes of waiting, you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that maybe you had shared too much, that Joel's concern had led to a sudden change in the dynamics of the evening. He may have felt pity for you and you debated whether to stay or make your way out, with a mix of vulnerability and disappointment.

With a heavy sigh, you decided to leave the party. The twinkling lights and cheerful laughter seemed to lose their polish as you made your way through the crowd toward the exit. Each step felt like a retreat, not just from the party but from the unexpected connection that had briefly sparked between you and Joel. But it seemed to be just in your imagination.

Once in the elevator, you decided to call it a night and head home, where the glow of your Christmas tree awaited.

Meanwhile, Joel couldn't get you to leave the party without saying goodbye. He felt a magnetic draw toward you, a want to be near you. He followed you outside, trusting his intuition, only to find you standing alone, staring at the city lights from the lobby.

Joel paused for a beat before approaching you. As you glanced into the distance, looking deep in focus, the city lights shed a lovely glow on your face and he felt his heart squeeze at the sight.

"Hey," Joel said gently, breaking the silence. You turned to look at him, surprise and something he couldn't quite decipher in your eyes.

"I noticed you left without saying goodbye," he continued, his voice filled with a warmth that mirrored the glow of the soft light of the city.

You offered a small smile, "I thought you were busy. Didn't want to interrupt."

Joel shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "You're never an interruption, trust me. I was looking for you. Didn't want you to leave without a proper goodbye."

A quiet connection flowed between you two as you stood there. As Joel took a step closer, the city seemed to fade into the background, the space between you narrowing.

Joel's eyes moved up, and a soft laugh escaped him, as if on instinct. You followed his gaze to realize you were standing just beneath a mistletoe, hanging in the door of the lobby.

He chuckled a genuine and welcoming sound that echoed through silence. "Well, would you look at that," he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You couldn't help but laugh along with him, the suddenness of the situation providing a magical touch to the night. The noise and bustle of the city appeared to vanish, leaving only the two of you standing beneath the mistletoe.

Joel took a deep breath, a vulnerability in his expression. "I've been trying to deny it, even to myself, but I can't ignore it any longer, you know?”

You listened closely, the air thick with anticipation. The city lights built a protective shell around you two, pointing out your fragility.

"I think I'm… kinda in love with you," Joel admitted, his voice echoing with devotion.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand motionless. The revelation sat in the breeze, and you could feel the importance of his words. It was a confession that went beyond the cheerful mood of the night. It was a confession that contained a time of words held back.

Joel's eyes were filled with both optimism and anxiety. "Would it be too forward if I asked to kiss you under the mistletoe?"

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied, "No, Joel, it wouldn't be too forward."

Joel leaned in, his eyes stuck on yours, under the soft glow of the city lights and the mute witnesses of the mistletoe, your lips touched in a tender kiss, and the world around you distorted.

Joel stared at you with pleasure and joy as you pulled away. "I've been wanting to do that for a while."

You laughed, your heart humming with new sensations. "The feeling is mutual."

"So, about tomorrow," Joel began, his voice soft, holding your face in his hands. "There's no way you're spending Christmas alone."

You looked at him, surprise in your eyes. "Joel, I appreciate it, but you don't have to—"

He gently interrupted, "No, I want to. Christmas is a time for love and joy, and I can't bear the thought of you spending it alone. If you're willing, I'd love for you to join me and my family for Christmas dinner."

The lights continued to twinkle around as Joel's gaze lingered on yours. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, and he leaned in once more. The soft press of his lips against yours sent a thrill through you, a continuation of the connection that had deepened under the mistletoe.

As he kissed you, his hands traveled from your face to your hands, interlocking your fingers. When he pulled away, a playful smile danced on Joel's lips. "Let's get out of here," he suggested, his hand still holding yours "I have better plans to spend the night."

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lean-ground-beefro · 4 months

Text

welcome to the stage...

a Joel Miller one shot: Flip the Switch

Pairing: CEO!Joel Miller x F!Reader Prompt from @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog:

𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 =Santa!Joel x elf!reader 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥 = you’ve been a lazy elf so Santa Joel punishes you

Summary: You've been tasked with being Joel's 'Helper Elf' at this year's Christmas Party and good god do you hate your job... Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Word Count: 3,562 Content Warning: DubCon, Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped, degradation, power plays, power imbalance, boss / employee dynamic, swiches, dom/sub dynamic, name calling, couch fucking Author's Notes: I am @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog's Secret Santa and I am so sorry for how late this is, bb! I am thankful for you and I hope you enjoy my first foray our of the chubby universe.

Thank you to @softpascalito, @theywhowriteandknowthings & @neverwheremoonchild for their eyes and beta skills. 💜🥦💜

Santa-baby-I've-been-an-swful-good-girl regards,

Beefro👌🥦💜

--------<3----------

When you’d been asked to dress as Joel’s ‘Helper Elf’ to his ‘CEO Santa’, you’d scoffed at the idea, already planning on resigning from being one of his company’s administrative assistants. You were tired of the long hours and being worked to the bone for very little pay and respect, but you decided to hold off to see the shitshow that the company’s Christmas party would be since Joel himself was in charge of planning it.

Joel was an egotistical brute who had no business being allowed to mingle with people in an enclosed space. His only saving graces were his brother, Tommy – CFO and President, and the only one who could rein him in - and his stupidly handsome, brooding good looks. He infuriated you; he knew he could get away with just about anything because he was the boss and most of the peons were scared shitless of his brutal tirades being directed at them. He threw it in almost anyone’s face how loaded he was and that he owned them. You hated him as much as you loved how quickly you came on your vibrator when though about his voice, his eyes, his hands that were burned into your memory. Fuck Joel Miller and fuck his cocky fucking smirk.

The day of the party you’d been given a cheap, sleezy looking elf costume with an email soon landing in your inbox with instructions to wear it that night, along with what your duties would be. Rolling your eyes, you read the email and realized that you would be spending the entire evening at Joel’s side, truly being his ‘Helper Elf’. You were to make sure he knew every person’s name (you rolled your eyes because if he really gave a shit about the people who worked for him, he’d already know their names), make sure he had food and a drink available to him all night (great – you were going to be a glorified personal waitress for the douchebag), make sure the event ran smoothly (as the one who apparently planned the event, why was this up to you?), had out gifts as ‘Santa’s Helper’ to the employees (groan…), and lastly, keep him company throughout the evening.

The whole thing made you rethink waiting to quit and you huffed, looking down at the cheap, probably highly flammable, elf costume on your desk.

“Fuck it.”, you groaned, picking it up and shoving it into your purse and heading to the bathroom to change.

*****

You were silently cheering yourself on. All evening, you’d made a conscious decision to be as annoying and useless as possible for Joel, and boy oh boy!, you’d gotten under his skin. Two hours into the party, and Joel had gone to get his third refill at the bar because you weren’t ‘paying attention’ and he’d also missed out on most of the buffet because you ‘forgot’ to get him a plate. You’d also managed to ‘unknowingly’ give him several wrong names, making him look like an ass towards several employees who’s names he really should have known. When it came time to hand out presents, you conveniently were ‘required’ to make yourself scarce and were unable to help.

While he’d barely said more than a few sentences to you, his scowl said everything you needed to be satisfied. At this point, you’d had more than a few drinks, and while you still maintained your professionalism, you’d stopped adjusting your skimpy elf costume and let it ride up higher on your thigh as you sat next to Joel. You’d caught him looking down at your bare lap more than once, making you grin to yourself.

*****

You had to give him his due; Joel had managed to put on a not-mediocre, standard office Christmas party. It was more than you thought he was capable of. That, and the fact that he kept the stupid Santa suit on the entire evening and posed for pictures with anyone who asked. You swear you might have even seen a genuine smile on his face when his brother came up for a picture dressed as a reindeer.

What really made you happy though was when Tommy asked Joel how his night was going, and you heard him respond, “Strapped me with a lazy fuckin’ elf, Tommy…” as his face held a cold sneer.

Right under that smile was the asshole who you’d found so much delight in needling all night.

By the time the party wrapped up, you figured you’d done your duty and you’d be free to go home and continue the party with a cheap bottle of wine and your cat. Everyone else had left and as you grabbed your bag from under the table, you heard Joel’s telltale stomps come up behind you. Before you could turn around, he had his hands on your waist, pushing you against the table.

“Think you’re bein’ cute, sugar?”, he growled into your ear.

“The fuck are you doing?!”, you snapped back, trying to wriggle out of his grasp more out of surprise than disgust.

He held you tighter, his thick fingers digging into your waist, and you could feel your panties getting wet.

“Don’t you fuckin’ move… can you follow that fuckin’ direction?”

“Oh Jesus! Just fuck off!”, you snarled back, again, trying halfheartedly to remove his hands from you, but hoping he didn’t let go.

He grunted as you shoved him back and turned around. You both stood and glared at each other, daring the other to make the first move. A small, menacing grin spread on Joel’s face as he took a few slow steps towards you.

“No one’s fucked the Christmas spirit into you yet, sugar?”, he growled, licking his lips and roughly pushing you back onto the table.

“Oh, fuck you! You couldn’t fuck a quack into a duck, you asshole.”

He raised his eyebrow at you and gave you a warning look before roughly gripping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He brought his face close to you and stared down at you meanly.

“You’re a shitty helper elf. Don’t you dare be a shitty lay, too.”

Before you could respond, he hoisted you up on the table, shoved the skirt of your dress up around your waist and pushed his fingers against your clothed core, making you let out an involuntary moan and a buck of your hips.

“Fuckin’ sweet, sugar…”, he purred, eyeing you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes and groaned against his touch. “You’re a disgusting old man, Miller.”

“Fuck, you’ve got a nasty little mouth on you…”, he murmured with a devilish grin as he pushed your legs apart and stood between them.

You swallowed hard as he grasped your neck. His other hand’s fingers moved between you and his eyes fluttered. He groaned when he felt how wet you were through your panties.

“Fuckin’ eh, sugar…”, he cooed, returning his softer gaze towards you. “You wet for daddy?”

You sucked in a breath as he circled your covered clit with his index finger, and tried to sound as firm as you could. “Fuck off with that ‘daddy’ shit, Miller.”

He tsk’d you, griping your throat tighter. “You and your mouth, sugar…”, he chuckled, watching you squirm, then growled. “You’re gonna be begging me to be your daddy when I’m done with you.”

That was it. This man had fucked around enough with you as your boss and now he wanted to demean you like this? Pulling yourself together, you pushed his chest and shoved him off you with all your might and before he could pounce on you again, you quickly moved to the side, causing him to lean over the table.

You shoved him forward, and to your surprise, he didn’t resist. Instead, he chuckled. “What’re you gonna – “

It infuriated you that despite your rejection of him, he was still smiling and seemingly enjoying himself.

“Just shut up!”, you snarled back, snaking your hand around his front and gripping his infuriatingly impressive cock through his cheap, fuzzy red pants.

“You fuckin’ shit… you’ll never be my daddy…” You could feel him get harder as you growled into his ear. “Too fuckin’ old to even pin me down…”

“Ungh…sugar… oh fuck…”, he panted, rutting his hips and griding his cock against your hands.

The fact that Joel was getting off to your less-than-kind words was not lost on you and you scoffed.

“This how you’re gonna get off, Joel?”, you cooed coldly into his ear as he panted. “Big tough Miller gets off to girls telling him no?”

“Please… sugar… fuck… please…”

“That the best you can do? You’re pathetic, you know that?”, you snapped at him as you shoved the front of his pants down, freeing his cock.

You stood back and tugged his arm, signalling him to turn over, and when he did, his cock did not disappoint. He was huge and the head was angry and weeping. He watched your face, eyes staring in wonderment at his dick as your mouth parted, jaw going slack. He grinned and chuckled, causing your eyes to meet his, only making you angrier with him.

“Fuck you, Miller!”

“Calm down, sugar… not the first whore to get cock dumb on me…”, he cooed, still with a smug grin on his face. He reached out trying to pull your hand to his member.

You yanked your hand away and spat into your palm before gripping his cock and starting to jerk him.

“Fuck you, Miller.”, you seethed lowly. “Fuck you and your fuckin’ smug face.”

“Why you – fuck… why you so pissed, sugar?”

“You’re such a pompous dick! So fuckin’ arrogant and you’re a shit boss.”, you fumed, continuing to pump his cock, causing him to pant. “Throwin’ your money in people’s faces, not knowing their names… someone better put you on your place, Miller. After tonight, I quit, you smug fuck!”

It was like a switch flipped; he snapped out of his submissive and amused state as soon as the words left your mouth. He gripped your wrist, ripping it off his cock and sat up, his other hand going around your throat.

“I don’t think so, sugar. You’re not going anywhere.”

He stood up, holding your wrist and throat, and guided you backwards to the couch and pushed you down on it. You fell back, your legs parted, and he took advantage of this. Joel leaned over you, pushed your panties to the side, and shoved two of his thick fingers into your sopping wet cunt, causing you to yelp.

“You can take it, sugar.”, he smiled menacingly at you, then growled through clenched teeth, “And you’re gonna take it.”

He pounded up into you with one hand while the other gripped your hair in his fist. The sounds that came from your mouth were foreign to you. Yeah, you liked it rough, but this was different. This was your soon-to-be former boss, finger banging you on a couch after a Christmas party and after you’d just about had him wailing your name. You had no idea what had happened to flip him, and before you could get too deep into your thoughts, he hit the perfect spot. That sweet, spongy spot in your pussy that less than half the me you’d fucked had even accidentally grazed, and here was Joel, repeatedly hitting it like it was a doorbell it was an emergency house call.

“Oh fuck!... right th - yes!... fuck… Joel, there… yes!”

As you felt your walls start to flutter and when that white hot heat started its ascent, he pulled away, grin on his lips.

You sat up on your elbows and looked at him, mouth open and eyes pleading. “What are y-?”

“Fuck you, that’s what.”, he grunted with a grin, shoving his slick fingers into his mouth and sucking.

You could only stare up at him in response. When he finally deemed his fingers clean, he pulled them out of his mouth with a pop and grinned at you.

“Tell you what, sugar. You take back what you said, and I’ll fuck you right here on this couch like you deserve.”

Confused, you continued to lookup at him until it dawned on you.

“You want me to not quit?”

He nodded, grin dropping from his face.

“You think I worked Tommy over to let you be my fuckin’ ‘Elf’ and put up with your bullshit attitude tonight for you to just quit on me, sugar?”, he asked lowly, leaning over you, pinning your head between his elbows.

“Think I haven’t watched that fuckin’ body of yours sashay ‘round the office and had to fuck my fist when I finally got alone?”, he crooned is a husky whisper, pressing his hot mouth on your neck and alternating between licking and nipping your skin. “Think I don’t notice your ass in those skintight skirts and imagine you sittin’ on my face?”

You let out a moan and gripped his shoulders, trying to pull him further into you. He quickly pulled back and sat up on his knee packed between your open legs, and grabbed your hands.

“I’m not hearin’ what I need to, sugar…”

You were frustrated and needy, hating that he had gotten the upper hand on you. Stubbornly, you shook your head.

“Fuck you, Miller. You’re a shit boss and a shit person and I’m not gonna let you fuck around and get nothin’ in return!”

His eyes darkened and his frown hardened into a scowl. He gripped your chin, pulling you up to him as he leaned down to you, feeling his hot breath on your face.

“Listen here, you little bitch. If that’s what you really want, I’ll send you outta here with my fuckin’ bastard in your belly whether you like it or not as a reminder of what you fucked up.”, he growled, holding you stare as if to challenge you.

You could feel your slick flowing from you, dripping out of your cunt and down your crack. Your mind and body were screaming ‘yes’ and ‘no’ in a pathetic battle with themselves at his threat.

“Or…”, his tone softened, as did his grip on your chin, “you can stay and get a promotion.’”

Your face morphed from pleading to confused again. “A-a promotion?”

“A promotion?”, he mocked. ”Yeah, sugar. A fuckin’ promotion.”

He lazily dragged his hand down your body, slipping it between your legs again and into your panties, and began rubbing small, light circles around your clit. You shifted, brows folding as you fought to keep your breath steady and eyes on him, refusing to break again and beg him again.

“You’re good at your job, and I agree… you don’t get enough for all your hard work. How ‘bout this, baby… you work exclusively for me… be my girl here… my helper elf all year round – minus the shitty, bratty attitude you came here tonight with – and I pay you what you’re worth…”

It took all your strength to not cave right then and there, but you were stubborn. “A personal cocksleeve for the office? How fuckin’ charming.”, you snapped back, in a voice far shakier and breathier than you had hoped it would be.

Joel smiled and chuckled darkly, continuing to tease your clit.

“You keep actin’ like you don’t want this, sugar, but my hand can feel your poor little pussy throbbin’ and needin’ me… and I’m sure your bank account would appreciate my attention as well.”

“Fuck you.”

“I plan on it, baby.”, he grinned menacingly. “But I gotta know how you want it… one last fuck… or…”

He nudged his nose against yours.

“My own, personal, little sugar… who’s so good at her job… and can keep me in my place when she wants… get me on my knees and make me beg… and let me fuck her into submission when I need it.”

When you tried to push up against him, he held you in place, keeping his fingers in your folds and his face close to yours in an act of dominance.

“No… I’m the boss right now, sugar, and I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

You couldn’t help the whimper that crept out of your throat and that was all Joel needed. He kissed you, softly at first then increasing the fervour, prying your mouth open with his lips and tongue. Teeth and spit helping your faces mash together. The hand he had between your legs moved to his waistband and he pulled it down, again, freeing his cock then gripping it. He pulled back slightly and slid its thick head through your slick.

“Tell me you want it, sugar…”, he grunted, looking at you from under heavy eyelids.

“Fuck…”, you breathed out, your pussy clenching on nothing. “I… of fuckin’ course I want it!”

“Ask nicely, sugar. Drop the attitude.”

“Fuck… please… please, Joel! I want it… I want you… I wanna be… fuck you for making me say it… I wanna get that promoti – aah!.”

Before the last syllable could come from your mouth, Joel pushed your panties aside and shoved his cock into your heat, giving no grace period for you to adjust.

“S’what I thought, sugar.”, he huffed out in a grin.

“Please… oh fuck, please move, Joel!”

“Yeah? Why? ‘Cause your pussy’s too tight for me? ‘Cause you haven’t been fucked by a man with a big dick and bank account?”, he cooed, tilting his hips to push further into you, his tip pressed firmly against your cervix.

“Fuck! Yes… please!”, you yelped, squirming under him. All thoughts of trying to take any control back were being forced out of you by his dick and he knew it.

His smug grin stayed firmly on his face as he pulled out in a painfully slow movement before slamming back in, pushing you further up the couch. He grabbed your hips and held you as he did it again.

“Faster… faster, Joel…”

He shook his head, still grinning. “Uh-uh…”

He kept his slow exit, harsh entry going as he watched your face contort and your cunt clench and release him. You were sure he was just torturing you, but the way he looked down at your face and body mixed with the even pace he was keeping and his size, you knew he knew what he was doing. You could feel the heat building up again, and he could, too.

“That’s it, sugar… I can feel it… come on, baby… lemme have it…”

The wave of your first orgasm hit you, rippling through your body and pulling a long, loud moan from your mouth.

“Oh, good girl!… finally, takin’ directions… good girl…”

He let you start to come down before he picked up your foot, placed a kiss on your ankle and draped it over his shoulder.

“That’s right, sugar… did so good for me, now I’m gonna return the favour.”

He thrusted into you harshly and picked up the speed, forcing your spend out onto both your thighs and his curly thatch of salt and pepper hair that crowned his cock. He pummelled you over and over, bringing you to the cusp of another orgasm and pulled out.

“Turn around… on your knees, sugar.”, he grunted, swatting at you.

You had to fight your trembling body and shaky legs to move, but once you got up on your knees on the couch, back facing Joel, he took over and moved your body into position.

“Now I get it, baby… you behave when you know you’re gettin’ something…”, he chuckled, pushing your face against the cushioned headrest. “Gonna have to get a reward system in place… give you a gold star and a fuck when you do good…”

Before you could return a snappy comeback, he pushed his cock back into you, making the only sound your mouth could produce be a whine.

The angle that he was fucking you in was even better and more intense than before. His grunting and murmured praises filled the room along with the wet, vulgar noises of his cock impaling your cunt. You felt another orgasm coming on, but it was more. Your pants turned to whiny yelps and moans and you felt like something was about to burst.

“Joel… Joel!”

“I know… can feel it… come for me, sugar… come on…”

“Joel… it’s – unhg!... I’m…”

You felt the bubble burst and cried out, collapsing on the couch. Joel let out a grunt-turned-moan at the flood of liquid pouring out of you, holding your hips, and continuing to fuck into you. His thrusts got sloppy and as you leaned on the back of the couch for support, he punched into you one last time, holding your hips against him tightly as he unloaded himself into your pussy with a loud groan.

When you tried to move, his hand moved to your back, soothing over it, as he panted. “Stay put, sugar… just… just stay put.”

You relaxed and laid forward, putting your weight on the couch, and closed your eyes. You could feel his cock twitching in you as it began to soften. His weight shifted and he pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades. The uncharacteristically gentle action made your eyes open abruptly and you sucked in a breath.

Joel’s chuckle reverberated against your back through his chest. “Congrats on your promotion, sugar.”

--------<3----------

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