Not Gonna Lie, I LOVE This

not gonna lie, i LOVE this<333

i recommend reading it SO damn much???

also that photo of joel made me think of this-

feelings are a lot of work

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel knows a way to help a girl through her heartbreak warnings: unconcensual groping; dirty talk; an age gap as thick as Joel's cock (20+ years decide for yourself); fingering; implied PinV and creampie wc: 800 a/n: my own submission for the 24 hour moodboard writing challenge! hope you enjoy, please leave a comment and reblog if you do

He smelled of beer when he invaded your personal space, planting a meaty paw on your skirt covered ass and boldly grabbing a handful. "Damn, sugar, you should wear something more modest in a place like this. Some drunk dipshit might think you’re offering more than you can handle."

By a 'place like this' he meant a bar on the outskirts of Texas in the middle of a heatwave. Looking around, you saw that your skirt and a white cotton t-shirt with a budweiser logo was amongst the most conservative outfits that women who were present wore.

"Some drunk dipshit already did," you gritted through your teeth, sinking your nails into his hand and trying to pry it off. You didn’t even need to turn your head to know exactly who it was. A tall, broad-as-the-horizon man who had been watching you all evening. His mostly gray beard and the deep lines etched into his face by time suggested he had already celebrated his fiftieth birthday, maybe even a while ago. That made him more than twice your age. That also made him hot by your standards.

When you had walked into the bar a couple of hours earlier, you barely noticed the quiet observer. But as your fight with your now ex-boyfriend escalated, your gaze had shifted from Malcolm’s infuriated face to the corner of the tiny establishment, where the older man sat, cluttering his table with a growing collection of Coors cans. He lingered after Malcolm stormed out, watching you drown your heartbreak in obligatory tequila. And when he decided you’d had enough, he abandoned his post in favor of approaching you.

You had been on the brink of punching the smug smile off his face when you turned around, refusing to let him squeeze the plush curve of your ass any longer. "Name’s Joel," he said, his voice deep and unapologetic. "And whoever that fucker was that left you? I promise he’s worth less than a donkey’s ass."You didn’t know if it was the alcohol, his words, or Joel’s staggering confidence that you wouldn’t scream for help or kick him in the balls, but when you met his whiskey-brown eyes up close, a shiver ran down your spine, stopping right where your cunt pulsed along with your rising heartbeat. His gaze dropped to where your thin white shirt betrayed you, letting him see your hardened nipples that begged for his attention. Taking it as an invitation, Joel caged you against the bar, his arms bracketing your body and making you feel small. The salty tang of his sweat mixed with pine-scented deodorant invaded your lungs as unceremoniously as the rest of him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes, trying and failing to stay unbothered by the sharp cut of his jaw and the curve of his lips.Joel leaned in slowly. His teal polo strained over a big stomach that pressed into you, trapping you in place. Then you felt it—a significant bulge poking insistently against your lower belly. His stubbled cheek scratched yours as he murmured in your ear. "I’m someone who’ll help you forget why you’ve been salting your tequila with tears for the last hour. I can’t promise you feelings—that’s too much work for an old guy like me—but I can promise you a hell of a good time. At least for as long as my cock’s buried in your belly."

The words were outrageous, filthy, and the most forward thing anyone had ever said to you. They were also the words that had you whining in his arms, pathetically begging for release.

He didn’t even take you home. The second you climbed into his battered red pickup that looked older than its owner, his rough hands were on you again. And Joel didn’t lie. When his fingers pushed your panties to the side and slid into your drooling entrance, any thoughts you had of Malcolm, heartbreak, or anything beyond the dizzying burn of Joel’s touch vanished. Unbothered by the people outside, you moaned like a well-paid slut, writing on his thick digits that were scissoring your cunt. Watching two of his fingers slide inside you with ease, he hummed in approval and added a third.

"Have you ever even had a cock up this tight little cunt, darlin’?" He muttered, his wet tongue gathering the sweat off your neck before he sank his teeth into the tender skin. "Snatch so tight, I’m startin’ to think I’m about to deflower ya."

You moaned in response, and Joel chuckled darkly. "Thought I’d fuck the heartbreak outta you, not your whole damn vocabulary."

His fingers curled inside you, petting your sensitive walls relentlessly and coaxing a pathetic whimper from your lips as he pressed his palm into your swollen clit. Every movement of his hand gave you the stimulation that merged pain with pleasure, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You threw your head back, hitting the seat with a dull thud as you came. Wetness gushed over his hand, he didn’t stop until you were crying from overstimulation, your trembling hands pushing weakly at his wrist.

"Now," he drawled, low and hypnotic, settling back in the driver’s seat and unbuckling his leather belt, "climb over here, darlin’. I’m far from being done with you."

By the time Joel finished fucking his third load into your used pussy, you couldn’t remember the reason you were heartbroken in the first place. Later, curled against his chest in your bed, you decided to save a few tears for the morning—just so he’d have another reason to make you forget.