#bfd!joel

[thischarmingmandalorian]

I'd like to make a confession:

When I started reading Joel Miller fic back in like, February, I didn't know any of the lore or lingo and was afraid to ask so for an embarrassing amount of time I gaslit myself into believing that "bfd!Joel" meant "big fuckin' dick!Joel."

[yesjazzywazzylove-blog]

6 pictures.

1 character.

JOEL. MOTHERFUCKING. MILLER.

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

[slowdrawl]

[DESCENT] Circle II — Lust | Joel Miller X f!reader | AU ONE-SHOT | 3.8k | MASTERLIST

Lust. The circle where want eclipses reason. Where love doesn’t live, but burns.

You live in his house. Date his son. Sleep down the hall. He pays rent. Steals your panties. Stares too long. You both give in to lust. One slip. No apologies. Just the sweet, slow sickness of the second circle.

a/n: This bad boy floats between lust and treachery? anyways, if you've read my fics, you'll know I love a good phone call. Nine alternate universes. Nine versions of Joel Miller. This one? Sinful. Possessive. Reckless. Lust.

18+ MINORS DNI | warnings | explicit sexual content, age gap, phone sex, masturbation, unsafe sex, manipulation?, possessive behavior, power imbalance, infidelity, degradation/praise mix, morally dubious Joel

Thematically Inspired by Dante’s Inferno. & Hozier (duh)

You’ve been living at the Millers’ place since your parents kicked you out.

Your dad walked into your room in the middle of the night and found your boyfriend asleep in your bed. It wasn’t even an act of defiance—it was an honest-to-God accident. The two of you had been hanging out, watching movies, and you both fell asleep. You knew the potential consequences of breaking the rules in your parents’ house, because they drilled them into you like they were law. You���re surprised they never made you swear an oath on some leather-bound book.

I solemnly swear that I will not break any rules of this house, even though I am a full-blown adult.

“I don’t want to hear it. I will not have you getting pregnant under my roof,” your mom spat through gritted teeth. “We didn’t raise you like this…I didn’t raise a harlot.”

You tried explaining, telling the truth, apologizing. It was no use, and the way they treated you for it didn’t have you on your knees begging for forgiveness. They were cold and mean about it.

“Go play house somewhere else. Give me my house keys, or I’m changing the locks.” That’s all your dad said. Once he managed to look at you, that is.

That was over six months ago, and you haven’t heard from them since.

You and your boyfriend Jake walked back to his dad’s place at 3 a.m., him scared shitless after your dad threatened to get the shotgun if he didn’t “Get the fuck off my property.” You were exhausted, red rings stinging around your eyes.

You didn’t even have to ask Mr. Miller twice.

He took you and your boyfriend down to your parents' place the next day in the truck. Carried your boxes out himself.

“You can stay as long as you like, darlin’. I just got a few rules of my own,” he said, placing your belongings down in the spare room-turned-office.

“You gotta contribute ‘round the house, and if you ain’t in school, you gotta pay rent. So unless you’re enrolling in classes, you better gear up and get you a job.”

He winked. You laughed.

And that was the end of that. Simple, you thought.

Until you found them in the laundry.

At first, it didn’t register. You were half-asleep, crouching in front of the dryer, pulling out your boyfriend’s dad’s clothes and putting them in the basket he’d left next to the machine. Draped over the washer on your tiptoes, reaching in, when it clicked.

Wait. Whose were those?

You looked back at the pile of clothes for a second, wondering if maybe you’d just seen it wrong. You decided to double-check and—yup.

A thong, in Mr. Miller’s clean laundry.

Black. Lace. Yours.

Irrefutably, no argument. They were yours. Black lace with criss-crossing straps, a metal heart attached to a chain in the front that sits right at the top. You bought them before Valentine’s Day earlier this year. Sexy as hell. A little out of character for you. Lowkey goth vibes.

Your face got hot. Mouth went dry. Because you remembered wearing them two nights before under your favourite skirt. Jake was working his regular shift, and you got dressed up, hoping that you might get some when he got home. You stayed up with Mr. Miller, tearing apart some shitty action flick, mocking the bad acting. Drinking a few beers, eating popcorn and laughing. A totally normal night.

Right?

Jake came back late. Stayed to finish up a few things. By the time he got in, you were already back in your sweatpants, passed out. Lace in the hamper.

How the hell did your underwear get into Joel’s laundry? You swore you remembered taking them off in your bedroom. In your boyfriend’s bedroom. Tossing them into the laundry hamper in the corner of the room.

You didn’t leave them in the bathroom. And you absolutely didn’t put them in his laundry.

You were left wondering, should you take them back? Do you mention it? Stay quiet?

The heat from your face oscillated through you, straight to your core. You didn’t take them back. You just folded them, neatly. Deliberately.

A nearly impossible task, by the way—there’s barely anything to fold.

You placed them carefully on the top of the pile of clothes overflowing out of the basket, threw a dryer sheet into the machine, cranked it on, and walked away.

A test.

To see if he would sweat. //// Since that happened, the house has felt different. The quiet isn’t tense exactly. Just vibrating with something unspoken.

He hasn’t changed. He doesn’t need to; you feel it anyway. The way his gaze has started to linger when you stretch out on the couch. You see it in the tight clench of his jaw when you wander into the kitchen in the morning, bare legs, voice still husky with sleep. You’ve even caught him framed in the doorway, watching you pour water while the dim light from the porch outside illuminated you with a faint glow.

You could ask. You could call it out. But some part of you doesn’t want to break it yet, that taut line that's been stretched between you. It’s electric and sharp. You like it.

Your mind runs in circles. You wonder if he’s been listening. You know he has.

The walls are paper-thin, and you aren't exactly quiet. Not discreet—no. Not when your mind wanders to Mr. Miller while his son fucks you. You lie there, imagining him awake, lying in bed, hands drifting under the waistband of his sweats. Listening to you fall apart with his hand wrapped around his cock, timing his strokes to match the rhythm of your gasps.

You keep playing the game. You keep testing him. You push it one night, while Joel’s on the couch in the living room down the hall. You had your hands buried between your legs under those same metal-clad, black underwear, chasing release, breath ragged, practically screaming his name. Over and over.

And when you were finished, you didn't put your underwear in the hamper—no. You took them off and tiptoed down the hallway toward Mr. Miller’s room, hanging them right on his doorknob.

The following night, Jake was working late again. You spent the afternoon cleaning, doing laundry, anxious for when Joel got home from work. When he did, the air in the house stayed thin for a few hours. But when you walked down the hall and into the laundry room to grab your stuff, it shifted. The air was as thick as Louisiana in late July.

He was in there picking up his own clothes, and he locked eyes with you as you opened the door. You dodged them, moved past him, and bent over, slow to collect your things from the dryer. He stayed there, silent, staring blisters into the back of you. When you stood back up, he was right there, leaning in close to you, eyes on the basket. His lips brushed your earlobe as he reached a calloused hand out, dropping the panties on top of the warm, clean pile.

He drawled, gravel and silk. “You keep leavin’ these layin’ around like that…”

You barely breathed as he ghosted your neck, his fingers skimming the top of your laundry pile. Then he pulled out a thong. Bright pink, clean—and he tucked it into his back pocket without looking at you.

“I’m not gonna stop at just keepin’ them.” He moved a strand of your hair, giving himself space to graze his teeth on the sensitive spot behind your ear. “Think you might like that too much, tho. Huh, baby?”

You held back a shudder as goosebumps speckled your skin.

You tried to say something, but you were too stunned. You just stood there, eyes stuck on the machine, jaw slack. Panties soaked. Body on fire.

He brushed past you, deliberate, letting his shoulder graze yours. And then he was gone.

Your heart was still pounding long after the door clicked shut. ///

You take a few deep breaths. Try to level your head.

You tell yourself you’re just going to ignore it. That you’ll fold your laundry and pretend like nothing happened. But your hands are shaking, your thighs are pressed together, and that fucking thong is gone. He took it. He took it in front of you this time.

You wait a few minutes, catching your breath, before you sneak back out of the laundry room and head to your room. As soon as the door closes, you slink down to the ground, letting your shaky legs find relief. You sit with your back against the door and fold your laundry, contemplating your game plan.

When everything is folded, you put it all away and change. You slip out of the sweats you’re wearing and throw on one of your boyfriend’s hoodies and a pair of sleep shorts—right overtop of those same black, strappy panties. You count to five. Then ten. And then you march down the hallway.

The living room’s dim, the TV flickering soft blue light across the couch. Joel’s there—exactly where you knew he’d be. Laid back, beer in one hand, other arm resting along the cushions. Casual. Like he didn’t just steal your fucking underwear from a pile of clean clothes like he owned them.

His legs are spread wide. He looks completely at ease, flannel unbuttoned, shirt wrinkled underneath. He doesn’t even look at you when you walk in. Just takes a sip from the bottle and says, “You get all that laundry folded, sweetheart?”

You don’t answer him. Just walk toward him, steady like your blood isn’t fuckin’ molten.

His eyes flick up. He watches you climb into his lap, one leg swinging over, settling onto his thighs like you belong there. His hand wraps around the neck of the beer bottle, knuckles flexing.

You press your palms to his chest and he inhales quick. “Darlin’, we—”

“We what, Mr. Miller? We shouldn’t finish what you started?” you say.

A smirk tugs at his mouth, but it’s mean. Mocking. “Jake know you’re this bold when he ain’t around?”

You raise your brows. “He’s clueless about a lot of things.” You laugh, cold. “Jake know you’re a panty thief, Joel?”

The moment his name rolls off your tongue, you see his eyes darken. Something shifts inside him. You feel his cock twitch to life underneath you. You smile and press your hips down into him, slow, testing his restraint. “Would you like me to stop? Mr. Miller?” You purr. He chokes on his breath, jaw clenching as he shakes his head.

His hand drops, placing the beer on the coffee table. The other finds your waist, grip tightening, not pushing you away.

“You waitin’ up for him tonight too?” he asks. “Nope.”

“Good,” he replies flatly, keeping one hand on your side as he rolls his hips up into you. He reaches up to weave his fingers in your hair, twisting it at your nape, pulling your head back. He leans in close, lips brushing your jaw. “All that lace for a kid who comes home too tired to touch you,” his mouth is on your throat, murmuring into the sensitive skin there. “You put those panties back on for me, didn’t you, baby?”

He asks the question confidently, like he already knows the answer. You hate that he’s right.

You bite down on your lip, trying to nod despite the resistance at your scalp. The pain mixes with pleasure, sending heat flooding to your core. He’s got you exactly where he wants you now, and you need so much more.

He drops his voice even lower. “S’what I thought. Filthy fuckin’ girl.” Joel stops and pulls back for a second, a hesitant look comes across his face. “You sure about this? We can stop if you want. At any point, just say the word.” He says softly. You respond, voice certain, “Do you think I’d give up now?” He stays still, like he's giving you a second chance to change your mind. “Joel, I’m sure. I want you—please”

Then he pulls your face down to his. Far from gentle, he kisses you like he’s angry, like he’s been stopping himself for too long. His tongue presses past your lips, and you moan into it, grinding down harder. He groans back into you, hungry and breathless.

Your hips roll against him, chasing friction, and his hand slides down, between your thighs, calloused fingers slipping past the edge of that lace he already knows too well.

Your phone starts to vibrate.

You freeze.

Joel stills, mouth hovering over yours, chest heaving against you. The name flashes across your lockscreen.

Jake.

Joel’s eyes flick down. Then back to you. Something dark and knowing flashes behind them. “You gonna get that?” he rasps, voice thick with challenge.

Your pulse thrashes in your throat. You don’t answer. You just reach for the phone and swipe to accept.

“Hey, baby,” you say, breathy, too soft.

Joel grins, all teeth, all wicked.

Then his fingers slide into you, practiced, precise, curling right where you need them.

Your thighs are trembling. Breath picking up. Jake responds, totally oblivious. “Hey, babe,” the lines crackling slightly in your ear. “What’re you up to?”

“Not too much,” you murmur. “Just… winding down.”

“You sound tired.” “I am,” you say, voice trembling as Joel starts pushing deeper inside you.

“Long day?”

“Yeah. Laundry, mostly.” His teeth scrape the shell of your ear. Joel’s fingers are relentless, deep, finger fucking you slow through the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Your free hand claws at the cushion, trying to ground yourself, but the couch is shifting beneath you. Every breath a risk. “Maybe if you’re still up when I get back we can watch a movie or somethin’?” Jake says.

You hum “yeah” through a bitten lip. It comes out a sharp, shaky exhale.

“You good?” Jake asks. You hear his concern start to settle in.

Joel’s thumb circles your clit, once, twice…

“I’m fine,” you choke. “Just a little tired.”

Joel drags his fingers out slow, slick and fucking obscene. He lifts them to your lips, pressing gently, and you open for him without thinking.

You take both fingers into your mouth, sucking, tasting yourself—all while Jake keeps talking about his shitty night at work.

“Tell him you miss him,” Joel mouths, voice barely audible, eyes on your lips.

You swallow. “Miss you,” you say into the phone. “I miss you,” Jake says. “You curled up on the couch right now? Wish I could be there.”

Joel rolls his eyes. You brace a hand on his shoulder, knuckles white. “Miss you too.”

Jake drops his voice down low, “What’re you wearin’? That hoodie of mine?”

Joel laughs under his breath—mean. Then leans in, biting softly at your neck.

“Y-yeah,” you whisper. “Feels nice.”

“Bet you smell like that perfume I like.” Jake teases. “The coconut one,”

Joel doesn't stop working his fingers in and out of you, brushing the spot that makes your whole body jerk.

“Mmhmm,” you breathe. “Put it on before bed.”

There’s a long pause. Jake groans. “You’re killing me.”

Joel presses a third finger in.

Your mouth falls open, he quickly reaches to your mouth to stifle your gasp.

Then Jake chuckles. “Anyway—some asshole knocked over a display of ravioli back here. I’m drowning in Chef Boyardee.”

His thumb finds your clit again.

You suck in air through your teeth, trying to laugh, trying to survive. Then his hand moves off of you, unhurried, sure. You watch, breath caught in your throat, as he reaches down, he undoes the button on his jeans, and pulls the zipper down slow. The soft rasp of it cuts through the room like the strike of a match. You don’t look away. You can’t.

He shifts under you, hips lifting just enough for him to reach in and free himself. Joel’s watching your face, searching for a reaction, he smirks when your eyes go wide. He’s so much bigger than Jake is. His cock is thick and hard, flushed deep at the tip, already glistening. He wraps his broad hand around the base, strokes once, then again. Lazy, taunting, staring at you with blown pupils, all while Jake talks in your ear like nothing’s wrong.

Your thighs twitch. You shift in his lap, trying to stay still. Trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Then Joel reaches for you.

He pulls your soaked shorts to the side painfully slow, like a man unwrapping a gift he already knows he’s going to ruin.

His cock nudges against the lace between your legs, completely soaked through. He slides the head of it over the fabric, smearing you with your own slick.

You inhale sharply.

Jake exhales. “You sure you’re good? You sound… kinda weird.”

Joel leans in, whispering, “Think you should hang up the phone.”

You press the phone back to your ear. “I’m fine, really. I’ll see you soon, baby.” “Okay, well,” Jake says, “Text me if you pick a movie?”

“I already have one in mind,” you whisper. “Love you.”

You end the call.

Joel leans back slightly, eyes dark and full of heat. He tilts his head.

“Love you,” he repeats, voice flat. “Cute.”

“Now show me what that sounds like when you really mean it.” You look back at him, pupils blown, voice still shaking “You’re fucking insane for that.”

He laughs as he lifts you off the couch, you wrap your arms around his neck. His cock is still heavy and solid, pressing against you as he walks you down the hall. To Jake’s room. He kicks the door open. You should stop him. You don’t.

He sets you on the bed, hands already pushing your shirt up, tugging his own flannel off with a curse, biceps flexing as he tosses it aside. His chest heaves, skin flushed, and you catch the sharp ridge of his collarbone when he leans over you, mouth hot and hungry on your throat. Teeth dragging, beard scratching, breath ragged. “Gonna ruin you for him,” he mutters. “You want that?” You nod, grinning, legs falling open. “Please just shut up and fuck me, Mr. Miller.”

Joel groans, deep and wrecked. Pulling off your clothes, muttering obscenities as he strips you bare. He hovers over you, lining himself up, making eye contact with you as he slides in, burying himself inch by inch. You both gasp as he bottoms out. Your back arches off the bed beneath him, hands scrambling at the sheets. He fucks you soft, slow at first, drawn out, like he wants to feel every second of it, hips rolling deep. The drag of him inside you is maddening, making your walls flutter with every pull. The bed creaks under his weight, your thighs trembling as he stretches you open, again and again.

Your moans are high and helpless, fingers digging into his back, breath caught between words that don’t come out. “You let him fuck you like this?” he growls. You shake your head, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “No. Never.” He leans down, presses his forehead to yours, hips rolling deep. “I can tell, baby. You’re so fuckin’ soaked for me, needy little thing.” Your nails rake down his spine. “Joel—please—”

He brings a hand between you, rubs tight circles on your clit. You cry out, back arching hard. He leans close, breath hot on your ear. “He ever even make you come?” You freeze for a second. Then shake your head. “No.”

Joel huffs a dark laugh, then tips his head back, groaning low. “Or do you gotta do it yourself when he’s asleep?” You grin through a moan. “I do it myself.”

His eyes darken. “While you’re in the next room.”

Joel growls, hips slamming into you harder. “Jesus fuck.” “You ever hear me, Mr. Miller?” you whisper, voice wrecked. “I don’t try to be quiet.”

He flips you over, your shoulders hit the sheets, his hands are rough on your hips, and he’s forcing your knees apart further. The mattress dips and shifts under his weight as he drives into you, knocking the air from your lungs.

“You wanted me to hear,” he snarls. You nod into the pillow. “Wanted you to come in.” “You wanted this?” “I needed it.” 

Joel bends over your back, teeth grazing your shoulder. “So damn perfect—he don’t even know what he’s got. But I do. You’re takin’ me so good baby.” His praise alone is enough to push you to the brink of ecstasy, “Oh, fuck—oh my god, Joel, fuck I’m gonna come” His arm clamps tight around your waist, dragging you upright, your spine pressed flush to his chest. You can feel every slick inch of him slide deeper from this angle, the overwhelming stretch pushing you into the edge of pleasure so sharp it almost hurts. “You’re fuckin’ fallin’ apart for me in his bed. What does that make you, huh?” he drawls, reaching down between your thighs, rubbing harsh circles over your already overstimulated clit. “Yours,” you sob. “Just yours. Only—”

Your body seizes around him, orgasm ripping through you like fire. Joel groans, loud and deep, panting into your ear, drowning out the world around you. You can tell he’s close, thrusts turning sloppy, faster, chasing his own release. His voice is wrecked when it breaks out of him, “Fuck, not gonna last—where you want it, baby?”

But you’re too far gone to answer, too tight around him, still pulsing, and that’s all it takes. He shudders hard, hips slamming deep as he spills inside you, thick and hot, filling you up with a strangled growl. He stays buried there, arms tight around you like he needs to hold you still, like he’ll fall apart if he lets go.

He holds you for minute, hips barely moving, pressing in tight, both of you panting into the silence. His chest is soaked in sweat, skin sticking to yours. You feel the throb of his cock even as he softens inside you, the mess of both of you slick between your thighs . Then he slowly pulls out, hands gentle now, smoothing down your spine.

You shift, dazed. He helps you turn around, brushes sweat-slick hair from your forehead. “You okay?” he murmurs. You nod. “Yeah.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, to your temple, his breath shaky.

The house is quiet again. Too quiet. Until the front door opens and a voice rings out. Jake’s. “Hello?”

Joel’s head snaps toward the hallway. You scramble to sit up, heart hammering. Footsteps. You rush to put your clothes on. Joel stands up, calm, pulls his jeans on, tucking himself in. “Where you at, babe?” Jake yells from the living room.

You stare at Joel. He’s moving too damn slow right now, casually sloping his belt into the loops, standing there like he’s just waiting to be caught.

He reaches down to you, presses another kiss to your cheek, his voice hushed. “Looks like you’re switching rooms if you’re gonna stay here, darlin’.”

Then the bedroom door creaks open. A second passes.

Jake’s face goes slack, then hardens.

 “What the fuck is going on in here?”

[preciosapascal]

Trouble

Summary: You planned to spend the summer at Sarah's, but you show up a day early and she’s not there. Joel doesn't mind.

Word Count: 6k

Pairing: Best Friends Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings/info: 18+ MINORS DNI, pics for mood only, no outbreak au, reader is early-mid 20's and Joel is 47, pet names (darling, baby, ect), SMUT, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill), one or two uses of pussy pronouns, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, Joel is a lil bit of a perv

A/N: i'm honestly blown away by the amount of love my last story got! thank you so much! been on and off writing this one for a couple of weeks. i hope you enjoy, feedback is much appreciated! if you're interested in my other stories, here's my masterlist 💝

Being best friends with Sarah has it's perks, main one being that she's an amazing friend and you've been inseparable since you met a couple years back in college. Another being you got to spend the last two summers at her house. And the other perk being that her dad is hot. Like really hot.

When you first met him, you thought he was a grumpy bastard, and he can be, but he warmed up to you the more time you spent at the house. You'd share beers with him some evenings, Sarah there too - and tell him all about college, your family and anything else that came up during the conversation.

You once mentioned to Sarah that you thought her dad was 'handsome', putting it lightly, and she laughed her ass off - then told him. You could've died on the spot when she brought it up over pizza that night but you stood your ground, fighting the embarrassment.

"Just being honest." you shrugged, nudging Sarah before glancing at Joel and trying to gauge his reaction. He just laughed quietly, shaking his head. He liked it, whether he'd ever admit it or not.

You laugh at the memory as you drive to their house to stay for the summer for the third year running. Music playing, windows down and a duffle bag full of half of your closet in the trunk. When you arrive you decide you'll grab your bag later and lock your car before walking toward the front door and knocking.

Joel answers after a few seconds, a small smile on his lips. "Afternoon, trouble.”

You're very thankful for the sunglasses that sit on your face as you fully check out the gorgeous man in front of you. Plaid shirt, blue jeans, greying hair combed back. How does he look better every time you see him?

"Sarah's out, staying with Tommy and Maria to babysit while they renovate, not due back till tomorrow mornin'. She not tell you?..."

"Ah shit, no no - she did, I completely forgot." you reply, realising you mixed up the days. The original plan was to come today until Sarah texted you last week to make it a day later, which slipped your mind.

Joel leans against the doorframe, arms crossing over his broad chest; a sympathetic smile graces his lips. He eyes you for a moment, taking in your appearance.

You sigh, pushing your sunglasses up to rest on top of your head. Joel stifles a small chuckle, making you laugh and then pout. "Not funny."

He can’t help but laugh softly to himself at your pouty expression, "Poor darlin’.” he muses teasingly then nods his head into the house, “Come on in, anyway.” he steps aside, giving you room to enter.

"You sure? You don't have to invite me in out of pity." you laugh, though you're internally screaming at the thought of being alone with him.

Joel light-heartedly rolls his eyes and tuts. He gestures to the couch that peeks from around the side of the door. “Make yourself at home, m'gonna grab us a beer if y'want one?" he asks, turning to you as he walks towards the kitchen and you nod in response.

Once you get settled on the couch, Joel fully disappears into the kitchen, and reappears a moment later with two beers. He takes a seat in the chair adjacent from the couch, hands you a beer he opened for you already then opens his own.

It’s quiet for a few beats as he flips the cap off, then Joel says, “No boyfriend or anything yet then?."

You thank him for the beer and then scoff a laugh at his question. "Nah, had a few flings here and there but nothing serious, y'know?" you reply before sipping the cold beer. "

Joel takes a swig of his beer, watching you with a curious expression. “That right? Ain’t found the right guy yet? Cause I'm having trouble understanding what would make a guy not want to stick around.”

You shake your head as you swallow your mouthful, feeling a blush threatening to appear at his comment. "I’m not trying to settle down right now. Whatever happens, happens."

Joel chuckles in response then took another swig from his beer. “You're a bit of a free spirit, aintcha?” he teases, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"I guess so." you smile, crossing one leg over the other.

Joel’s gaze slowly travels down to your ripped jeans clad legs. Damn, he thinks to himself, you look good. He averts his gaze, forcing himself to think about literally anything else.

"What about you then, hm? No girlfriend yet?" you throw his question right back at him.

Joel scoffs and shakes his head. “Nah, m’not looking either.”

You huff a laugh at the similarity in your answers, yet for some reason, as if it means well for you - your stomach flutters.

"I hear ya." you say, holding your beer out towards him with a playful grin.

Joel mirrors your action and brings his own bottle up to clink it against yours. “To bein’ single, then. Damn, what a depressing toast.”

You laugh, agreeing with him. “To being single." you repeat before you both sip from your bottles.

Silence falls over the room, but it's not awkward, it's comfortable. Joel couldn’t help but steal another glance at you, shamelessly eyeing your figure for a few moments while you checked your phone.

“Guess I’d better grab my bag out of my car.” you sigh, standing up and stretching. Then you pause. “Sarah did tell you I’m staying for the whole summer again, right?”

Joel nods his head in affirmation, “She did. You're welcome to stay tonight too, sweetheart. I'll keep outta your hair."

You smile and nod, placing your beer down before he continues. "Stayin’ here for the whole summer another year running, huh?” he's immediately hit with memories of how loud you and Sarah can get.

"Mhm. Lucky you." you retort with a cheeky grin before grabbing your car keys.

Joel chuckles and shakes his head, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Real lucky.” he says sarcastically as you disappear to fetch your bag. He has another gulp of his beer, his gaze lingering on the spot on the couch where you were sitting.

Joel looks over at you with raised eyebrows when you re-enter the house, taking in how big your duffle bag is. “Geez, how much stuff you got in there?”

“Enough for the whole summer, hopefully. Gonna take this upstairs to Sarah’s room.” you grab the handles, attempting to lift it yet you struggled earlier and your neighbour kindly offered to help lift it into your car because you couldn't lift it high enough to shove it into the trunk.

Joel watches in amusement for a minute as you struggle then he stands up and walks over to you, putting a hand on your arm to stop you. "Woah, woah, hold on. Lemme help you with that, darlin'."

He gently takes the bag off of your shoulder, his fingers grazing your shoulder. "What're you packin' in here? Rocks?"

"Clothes, shoes, accessories, y'know...girl stuff." you move back, opening and closing your hand a few times to get the feeling back.

Joel slings the bag over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing, and you feel a jolt of arousal shoot though you as wonder if he could lift you just as effortlessly.

What you don't realise is that Joel can practically feel your gaze on him the whole time, making him smirk to himself. When he gets to the top he turns around with a smug smile on his face.

"See? Wasn't so hard was it?" he says teasingly, holding that bag up with one hand to prove his point.

"Yeah, yeah." you reply, waving him off.

He playfully rolls his eyes before he walks into Sarah's room, setting your bag down with a thud. You thank him as he descends the stairs before walking back to your spot on the couch and taking your beer.

Joel settles back into his seat. Another comfortable silence washes over the two of you briefly until Joel brakes it.

“Soo,” he drawls, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his gaze meets yours. “How much trouble you plan on causing during your lil’ visit?”

You lean back into the sofa more and exhale an amused puff of air from your nose. "Oh, tons, obviously."

Joel chuckles at your response, shaking his head slightly. His gaze remained on you longer than necessary. The way you were lounging back against the couch was making it difficult for him to think clearly.

“You wanna watch a movie or somethin' before I bore ya to death?” he nods towards the TV, waiting for your reply.

"Oh stop it, you're not boring but sure, a movie sounds good to me."

Joel stands up, grabbing the remote and takes a seat on the other side of the couch you're on this time, only so he could see the tv better, of course, then scrolls through the movie options. "You got a specific movie in mind, trouble'? Or am I pickin'?"

"I'll watch anything, you pick." you say, making yourself more comfy, shifting on the couch and tucking your legs under you.

He glances over at you, his gaze lingering on the way you nestled into the couch, legs tucked under, comfortable. He swallows, focusing back on the TV. He scrolls through the available movies, and after a few moments, settles on a comedy movie. When the opening credits begin to play he settles back into his seat, taking another swig of his beer. His gaze drifts to you every few minutes, he's hyper aware of your presence only one seat away.

At a particularly funny moment, out of habit, you reach out and grasp Joel's forearm as you laugh. It's something you've always done, something Sarah was used to. He jolts slightly in surprise, the touch sending tingles up his arm. He glances down at your hand on his forearm then back up to you. He can vaguely recall you doing this with Sarah but had never been on the receiving end himself.

You catch yourself, reminding yourself who you're with. "Oh god, sorry. I do it to Sarah all the time." you explain, smiling sheepishly and patting his arm before retracting your hand.

He slowly relaxes his shoulders, the corners of his lips tugged into a smile you apologize. "S'alright, no need to apologize." he says, his voice raspy, his southern drawl more evident than usual. In that moment, Joel realises just how much trouble he really is in.

The movie continues playing, but Joel finds it harder to pay attention. The feeling of your hand on him still lingered on his skin, and he found himself wanting more. Instead, he takes his last gulp of beer, his gaze shifting back to the TV. He clears his throat softly before abruptly standing up.

"Another?" he asks, shaking his empty beer bottle and nodding towards yours. You agree, handing him your empty bottle when he holds his hand out for it.

He heads to the kitchen to grab two more beers, taking a minute to collect himself.

He returns, the necks of the beer bottles between his fingers and hands one to you, sitting back down but just a bit closer this time. You notice his sleeves are rolled up now and you can't help gazing at his arms. You're unsure if it's just because they're attached to him or if he really does have nice arms. God you need to get laid soon.

You untuck your legs that now ache slightly and stretch them out before placing them on Joel's lap, a playful grin on your face.

Joel feels his heart rate quicken as you place your legs on his lap and he has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from letting out a single sound.

"Comfy, huh darlin'?" he asks, his voice a little hoarse.

You laugh a little, looking over at him. "I am. You make a great foot rest, actually."

Joel chuckles at your playful words. "Glad I could be of service." he replies, trying to ignore the way your laugh sends jolts of arousal straight to his dick. He takes another gulp of beer, his gaze flickering down and his hand almost moves on its own accord, lightly resting on your ankle.

Late afternoon turns into evening, evening turns into night as you continue watching movies and drink a couple more beers. He's become accustomed to your legs on his lap, and each time you return from making a trip to the kitchen or to the bathroom, he waits the few seconds it takes you to sit back down and rest your legs on him once more. You've both had a few more beers than intended. Joel is feeling a pleasant buzz, and he can tell that you are too.

As the night wears on, Joel gets more bold and starts slowly tracing his fingers up your calf. He only moves a little each time, testing the waters. He keeps his gaze fixed on the movie, but his mind is going wild, his heart thumping in his chest and his dick twitching in his pants.

You swallow hard as his fingers reach the bare skin between the rips in your jeans, while you're trying your hardest to seem unbothered as your eyes are also fixed on the screen.

It feels like you've got an angel and devil on your shoulders like those old cartoons. The angel is telling you that this is a bad idea, stop this right now, this is your best friends dad. Yet the devil is telling you to go for it, you want it, ride it out and hell, ride Joel too.

Joel’s fingers continue their slow journey upwards, tracing circles on the denim. He’s hyper-aware of every movement you make, every hitch in your breath. He knows he's playing a dangerous game, but right now, he doesn’t care.

Over the next few minutes, the movie long forgotten now, his fingers move further, now tracing lazy patterns on the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. He can feel the tension between you growing. He looks over at you, his gaze hooded and heavy.

You can feel his gaze and look over. When your eyes meet, a moment of pure heat and undeniable desire passes between you. There's a fire there, and it's growing with each passing second. Joel's hand continues its slow, rhythmic movement, his thumb lightly grazing the skin of your thigh. His gaze is intense, unyielding.

You mentally flick the angel off your shoulder and mutter "fuck it." before shifting your position so you're now kneeling beside him and turn his face toward you to press your lips against his.

Joel is momentarily caught off guard by your bold move. His mind is screaming this is a bad idea, but his body is singing a different tune. A low moan escapes him, his eyes fluttering shut on reflex.

His free hand immediately grasps the nape of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. The moment his tongue flicks out to glide against yours, his restraint snaps. He grips your hips with his large hands and tugs you onto his lap.

Suddenly his lips are hot against your neck, trailing a line of kisses as his hands slide from your hips under your shirt, resting on your bare waist.

He pulls back, breathing heavy and looking at you. "C'mon, my room. Not doing this in the family room." he mumbles, pulling you up by your hand. You understand and let him lead you to his room and as soon as you're in there, you resume the position, his back against the headboard and you straddling his lap.

You moan softly as his lips and greying scruff move against your neck again. You've only imagined this hundreds of times before and now it's happening, all reasoning and goodwill and out the window.

With how easy it is for him to slip into this, and you, you're rethinking everything that's ever happened. Everything you've ever convinced yourself was Joel just being friendly, fleeting looks, touches, everything. You know for sure now it was what you thought.

“You know exactly what you’ve been doing. A-always hovering around when I’m here with Sarah…touching my back when you walk past me…” you whisper, slowly rocking your hips against his.

“Fuck, I know.” he rasps, his hands moving up to your hips, holding you in place to match your rhythm. You take your chance to place kisses on his neck. He smells faintly of cologne and a natural manly musk that makes your cunt clench around nothing.

"Always teasing me." you murmur between kisses against his neck.

Joel lets out breathy curse and rolls his head back to give you more access. His hands slide down to your ass, gripping tightly to chase the delicious friction between you. “Teasing you? Darlin’ I was trying to be a fuckin’ saint.”

You place a couple more kisses on his neck before lifting your head from his neck, moving your arms to hang loosely over his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Yeah? Walking around in only a towel after your shower? Leaning over me at the table to grab stuff?” you continue grinding your hips down onto his as you speak.

Joel’s eyes go nearly black as you recount his actions, and it finally occurs to him that he wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought he was, and he loves it.

He pushes you down onto his bed on your back and lifts your tank top, his calloused fingers grazing the skin of your sides.

“What about you? When you’d bend all the way over just to grab somethin' from the refrigerator when you knew I was behind you? Paradin' yourself around my house in your tiny shorts?"

You mindlessly run your nails gently up and down his arms as he hovers over you. "I knew you were watching. Always watching when I'm here, aren't you Joel?" you ask, tilting your head.

Joel yanks the fabric over your head and tosses it to the floor, his eyes roaming over your chest covered by a lacy white bra. He leans down, chest pressed against yours, and responds in a gruff tone

“Like a damn hawk, darlin’.” His large hands trail up your sides, his head dips down to graze his lips across your collar bone. “Always watchin'…listenin' to you, smellin' your sweet perfume all over my fuckin' house.” he murmurs against you.

You think back to the fact you used to spray it everywhere, hoping to god it had this sort of affect and you almost smirk.

He hums against your neck, his hands roaming down to your jeans, finger and thumb making quick work of the button. “Thought I was going crazy.” he mumbles, tugging on the zip. “Could smell you everywhere...was like torture.” he says, moving back and pulling your jeans off, throwing them aside too.

“Fuck…I imagined us like this so many times. your big hands all over me- fuck.” you whimper as his thumbs run over your hard nipples through the flimsy cups of your bra, making your back arch off the bed.

Joel’s mind nearly explodes as you tell him your dirty thoughts. All those hours of him holding back, trying to keep his mind from wandering, and you were doing the same? He almost smirks.

He takes advantage of the fact you're arched so beautifully for him and slips a hand under you, his fingers splayed across your lower back and the other reaching to unclasp your bra. He pulls it down your arms, dropping it onto the pile of other clothes.

He pushes himself up on one hand, the other reaching down between you, fumbling with his belt as he speaks, “That right, darlin'? I’ve tugged my cock countless times thinkin' about having you like this.”

"You've stroked your cock over me?" you ask, eyes on the hand unbuckling his belt.

He looks up at you, eyes almost completely consumed with lust, as he unzips his jeans and pulls them down his thighs a little, just enough for his cock to not feel like it's suffocating in his boxers.

“Mm. Spent so many nights imagining burying my cock inside you…” he continues, and grinds his clothed length against you, as if demonstrating before continuing.

“God, the way you look at me…” he groans. “the way you laugh at my shitty jokes, those little outfits you wear…” he says, hitching one of your legs around his waist and leaning down towards you, his eyes scanning your face.

“You remember when I had that barbecue last summer? you and Sarah danced…and every time you spun…that damn skirt would ride up.”

You remember that very well…after all, you wore it on purpose. You felt kind of guilty after that, kind of parading yourself around for your besties father (even though Sarah had no idea), but knowing now how it affected him, that's the last thing on your mind.

“Yeah, I remember." you reply, wrapping your other leg around his waist and pulling him towards you more, needing more friction.

He practically loses it as you grind against him, thinking about when he sat in his backyard, trying to ignore the way your little skirt bounced, or how he would see your perfect ass cheeks peeping out of the bottom of your shorts. He was about to go mad.

“oh, I know you did. bet you fucking knew I was sitting there, trying to act normal while I’m dyin’, watching your perfect ass appear and disappear under that skirt."

You whimper as he cups one of your bare breasts, the other hand trailing downwards. “Look at these.” Joel whispers as he leans forward and takes a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the bud.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me what you thought about when you were dancin', what you wanted me to do’.” he murmurs between teasing licks, his other hand teasing you through the fabric of your now soaked panties.

You let out a desperate moan, your mind begging him to do something. “I wanted…I wanted you to grab me, make me dance on your cock instead.” you say, voice strained as you try to grind yourself against his fingers.

A breathy curse escapes him at your words. He had to hear you say it. He needed to know you were thinking the same dirty thoughts as him. “You got no idea...wanted to grab you, pull your skirt up and fuck you right there.”

The mental imagine his filthy words conjure up, and his fingers teasing your pussy through your panties have you letting out a desperate noise you don't even recognise. God the noises you made. He needed to hear more of them, so his fingers slip under the side your panties.

“Y'like hearing what I wanna do to ya, huh?” he rasps as his fingers slide through your folds. “Soaked just thinking about it.”

You curse when his fingers finally make contact with your bare pussy and moan out a pathetic "Yeah."

“Fuuck, that’s it baby. Make those pretty noises for me.” Joel groans, easily slipping two fingers in your sopping centre, making you blush at how desperate you are right now. He begins to pump them and at a toe curling rhythm, making you gasp and moan his name.

He shuffles down your body, and pulls your panties aside to get a better look.

"So pretty." he murmurs, practically salivating at the sight before him, continuing his ministrations. He moves even closer, his hot breath ghosting over you, making you exhale and bite your lip.

"Tha’s right, baby. show me how bad you want it.” he says, his thumb now circling your clit. His eyes flit between your perfect pussy that's drenching his fingers and your pretty face as it contorts in pleasure. You reach behind you, grasping the edge of the mattress to ground yourself.

"Gotta taste this pussy. Can I, baby? Will ya let me?" he mumbles against the inside of your thigh before his tongue flicks out to tease the skin. He withdraws his fingers, toying with the slick, running it up and down your slit.

"ohgod...please." you almost whine. His cock is throbbing and almost hurts with every sound you make. He can smell your sweet scent and it's driving him insane. The moment you agree, his face is directly in front of your cunt, inhaling deeply.

Without warning, he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, tongue flat. You sigh, almost in relief at the sensation. Fuck it felt so good. He lets out a low moan, as if he were a starved man having eating for the first time in days.

His tongue dances over your sensitive little bud, his mind reeling. He never thought it'd happen. Yet here you are, legs open in front of his face and he was basking in it.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders, his lips latch onto your clit, sucking hard. You gasp and thread your fingers through his hair.

His hands trail over your thighs and then up to cup your tits, squeezing them gently. He alternates his tongues movements, licking and sucking, your moans and whimpers not helping the fact his cock feels slightly neglected now.

After a little more, he pulls away from your clit with a pop and looks up at you, his lips, chin and even the tip of his nose glistening with your juices. "She's a great kisser." he teases, wiping his face on his sleeve before slipping off the bed, rising to his feet and unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it aside. That line should've made you cringe and with anyone else it probably would've, but it didn't.

"Can I return the favour?" you ask as you prop yourself up on your elbows, wanting nothing more than to have his cock sliding down your throat.

"As good as that sounds darlin', my cocks achin' to get inside ya." he says, pulling his jeans and boxers down and kicking them aside. He gets back onto his bed, resting against the headboard. "c'mere." he beckons you over.

Your eyes trail down his body, shamelessly looking at his cock as you move towards him. He's bigger than you imagined, his balls big and heavy underneath. You don't have that much time to look as Joel pulls you over to him. "Havin' a good look there?" he teases, a smirk plastered on his face as you mount him.

"Well I mean, you just had your face between my legs, s'only fair I get a peek of what I'm about to sit on." you retort your hands on his shoulders as you hover above him, sitting up on your knees.

He lets out a low husky chuckle, the fact that you were comfortable enough to tease him back made his cock twitch and then a deep groan erupts from him as you run your pussy up and down the underside of his cock.

"You enjoy being a little tease, huh? like playi- fuck -playin' little games?" his voice is strained as you move a little further than intended, his cock nudging your entrance, making you both moan. He grips your hips, leaning back and his eyes zero in on where you're almost connected. "Again." he breathes. "fuck, do that again."

You happily comply, whimpering every time the head nudges your clit and moaning in sync with him as it prods your soaking wet hole. "Jesus-" he grunts, his head falling back. It feels so fucking good but it's taking everything in him not to drag you down onto his cock.

He can't take much more, and you're right there with him. Desperate to feel him properly. He wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you and grabs the base of his cock to line himself up. "you ready, baby?" he murmurs against the skin of your shoulder.

"mhm." you hum as his hands grip your hips. "but, slow...at first. been a while." you mumble, cheeks flushing.

His lust filled eyes soften for a moment at your confession. "you just take what you need, however you need to. we got all night, sweetheart."

Your heart flutters a little at that. This man just told you how much he's dreamed of fucking you, that he's been playing with his cock to the thought of you, yet being so understanding on top of that makes him even sexier.

You nod, before lowering yourself down on him. He closes his eyes, jaw ticking as he tries to stay still, the urge to buck up into your tight heat almost to much. "tha's it, baby...just like that."

You can't help the string of noises that escape your lips as you slowly sink onto him. When you reach the bottom, you rest your forehead on his shoulder.

"You okay?" he breathes out, one of his hands moving from your hip to trace his finger tips up your spine.

"m'fine. just needed a second." you say, fighting the embarrassment. It's not like you've never rode a dick, but it's just been while and jesus was this one bigger than the others. You suck it up and lift your head to meet his eyes, giving him a nod to let him know you're good to go. You slowly start to lift, with Joel guidance, before moving back down.

You moan together as you move, his eyes glued to your face. One hand still on your back and the other on your hip to keep you steady. "you feel so fuckin' good...don't stop. keep goin'..like that." His words only encourage you, your pace picking up as you ride him, the lewd sounds of your bodies coming together filling the air.

He starts to move his hips, matching your movements and hitting that spongey spot inside your cunt, making your eyes roll back. He takes advantage of that fact, watching your tits bounce in his face as he tries to catch a nipple with his tongue.

"Oh god...Joel..." you moan, leaning back and grasping his thighs behind you.

"Tha's right, beautiful. Fuck yourself on your friend's old mans cock." he says, watching your body move. His words are disgusting, they should turn you off, yet they make you tighten around him.

"Ah, you like that don't cha? Dirty fuckin' girl."

You nod, the embarrassment shooting straight down to your cunt. "Yeah?" he coos, pressing you, wanting to hear you say it.

"Mmyeah." you whimper pathetically as you continue moving up and down his thick cock.

"Look at me, baby girl. I wanna see that gorgeous face." He says in that deep, gravelly voice, his hand moving to your chin and tilting your head down to look at him. As soon as your eyes lock on his, the intensity makes you moan. "There she is..." he says, looking at how fucking wrecked you look. Pupils blown, cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled.

Your chest flutters and cheeks burn a little darker under his gaze. God, you always imagined you'd be more confident if you ever got to fuck him, thought you'd be calling the shots. But he's got you, and you're lost in it.

He starts to meet your movements, lifting his hips to bury himself to the hilt over and over. His hand moves from your chin to your neck, his fingers wrap around it. Your breath hitches and it makes he smirk again. "This what you want?" he murmurs, giving your throat a light squeeze.

"Mmmm, yes.." you mewl, barely able to talk. Your mind is swimming in lust and desire, our thoughts consumes by the man in front of you. He tightens his grip around your neck, his thumb pressing on your jaw to keep your gaze locked on him.

"What about last fourth July? remember that?" he asks with his signature gruff drawl.

You know exactly what he’s talking about and it makes you moan. "Mmh- yeah…" you manage. "I remember."

He gives a low, amused chuckle as he recalls the memory. "You in that lil’ blue bikini...walkin’ around my place, all tan and wet." Every other word he speaks is met with a harder thrust, making you whine.

Memories of that day flood your mind and heat pools in your belly. That was the first time you noticed Joel stare at you in a way that wasn't how your best friends dad should.

"Joel...I need- please I-" He takes the hint, shifting your position so you're now on your back on his bed, his cock still nestled deep inside you.

"I know, baby, I know." He purrs, his face going between your neck and collarbone, nipping and sucking all the sensitive skin he can get his mouth on. He lifts your left leg and drapes it over his hip, then he quickly buries himself in your tight heat again. "Fuuuck you're so tight.." he moans, head falling back.

His cock constantly hits the right spot over and over, you're sure your vision will go white any second. "So good...mmfuck, Joel..."

Your hands that look small in comparison to his, grasp his biceps and pull him down for a desperate, messy kiss. Joel's body covers yours, his muscular form surrounding you. He kisses you feverishly, every movement of his tongue and lips making that feeling in your gut coil tighter and tighter.

"Joel-” you gasp as the feeling in your stomach gets stronger. He can already feel how tight you're getting around him.

"Gonna come ain'tcha? C'mon baby, lemme feel you." his own breathing is ragged, he's not far behind you. He leans down, pressing kisses to the column of your throat as he fucks you faster.

You're unable to form a coherent sentence anymore, just needy sounds escaping you as he fucks you good, your walls tightening around him and making his hips stutter.

"There ya go...keep squeezin' me like that.." he encourages, hips moving impossibly faster.

"M'so close." you whimper, nails leaving little crescent indents in his back.

"Mmyeah, I know baby...can feel it. Gonna fill this lil' pussy up. That what you want? Wanna be full of me?" he grits, lifting his head up from your neck.

"Shit...yeah, I want it. Give it to me, please." you beg in your lust filled haze. You're right on the edge now, just needing a little something to help you over.

A gravelly moan rumbles in his chest at your words. "Look at you...wrecked and begging for my come." Those words have you clenching him again. He's so fucking close but wants to make sure you get there first.

You only whine in response, unable to come up with words as that tightness in your stomach gets so tight, you feel like you'll snap. It's like he's everywhere at once, the sensations are overwhelming and you can barely take it.

"I got ya, baby. C'mon now. Need t'see you fall apart on my cock." he murmurs.

That's it, that's all it takes. Your thighs are trembling, vision hazy, back arching, toes curling, all the orgasm cliches you'd never experienced with these frat boys who just want to get their dicks wet.

Joel watches you in awe. "Oh fuck...there we go, jus' like that." That was it for Joel too, watching you fall apart sends him over. His head drops down, hips stuttering as he rides through it with you, his movements slowing.

You're both trying to catch your breaths, sweat covers your bodies. Joel's still on top, supporting his weight with a hand on either side of your head. He lifts up slightly so he can look at you, a smirk plastered on his bearded face.

"Looking real happy with yourself there." you say, letting out a small breathy laugh.

He chuckles, the sound deep and satisfied. "Can ya blame me?" he murmurs, his head dipping down to press a kiss to your cheek, his beard scratching your skin.

But the sounds of the front door opening downstairs makes you both freeze and then Sarah's voice rings out, calling for you both. She'd have seen your car outside.

Fuck.

[toxicanonymity]

Best friend's dad Joel Miller x f!reader

You and Sarah are getting ready to go out to a party. In the mirror you adjust your tits. They’re overflowing, and you can't wait to see Mr. Miller's face. It's been a while since you've come over, and you're determined to fuck him again. The crop top and tiny daisy dukes should leave him with a memorable vision. When you emerge into the living room, Mr. Miller is on the sofa. He does a double take and doesn’t blink. He takes a deep breath as his eyes pan your torso. “Dad,” Sarah interrupts him. “Don’t be gross.”

He looks like he might say something to you, but he doesn’t. While Sarah is looking in her purse for her keys, you ask her if she has a midol. She lights up. “Oh, did you finally get your period?”

“No,” you reply, and caress your belly just above the straining button of your shorts. “Just bloated.”

[dilf-docs]

So Is it Your Place Or Mine?

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: summer is over, but your affair with joel isn't (or, you grind on joel's belt buckle while sarah is at soccer practice)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., exhibition kink (sarah is again a victim of this), brat taming (this two are soo into it), degradation kink, praise kink, lwk breeding kink, daddy kink (wow! it's a whole library of alexandria of kinks in here), fingering, dad bod!joel (best joel you mean), angst (oh guys look oh no it's alr starting), dirty talk!!!!! (they're so dirty ew i want it too wait who said that)

word count: 3,701 words

side note: and it became officially a series. hope u all are into this as much as i am because it's my first series ever !!!!! ALSO angst finally makes it way in this mess LET'S GO (i'mcrying i really looked up big texas belt to come up with a mental image in the middle of class, i'm so sorry to whoever sat behind me but idc abt me writing smut while at uni; we die like real men)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

It's been an unspoken rule that, even if you hate sports and the ball stays ten meters away from you, you always come to Sarah's soccer practice, cheering for her from your usual spot at the benches.

Except today, you aren't there. And now Sarah is calling you when she shouldn't, but that she doesn't know.

"I can't. I have stuff to work on stuff"

Bullshit.

Your laptop and the half-written essay sit untouched at the coffee table. The thing being touched in question, is something entirely different.

"Need help?"

His hands grip any free spot of your glistening skin, sucking on the rosy pink until it turns maroon red.

"I'm at my dorm, sorry"

Double bullshit.

Sarah doesn't even know your car is parked next to her dad's truck. She has about four hours to find out.

"I can drop by later then" she suggests.

His hot breath tingles against your neck as his nose caresses the spot. Bad girl, he mouths, like he wasn't the one who told you to pick up, despite his daughter's name on the caller's ID. You try to reach for a kiss, but his digits press on your hair, pulling you back with violence to forbid your lips from touching his. Bad girl, and your arousal drips with more intensity at the remark. Bad girl.

"No!" the answer comes quick, your voice strained, and Sarah jokes that you should take it easy with your classes, instead of suspecting anything else.

"Fine! I won't go if you don't want me to, but if you show up dead by stress, I'll be free of guilt"

He kisses the outline of your jaw with sloppy movements, like he just wants to busy himself while Sarah blabbers about the practice, and you keep trying to make her stop, but she tells you not to worry, that she's on a break right now, and the task to avoid whimpering at his rough kisses across your neck becomes increasingly difficult. A gasp escapes your lips when his teeth sink into your flesh. Mine, not to be said but to be felt. Seen by the rest. A pretty red that tastes like the blood he craves, the hunger akin to violence. Bad girl, and he's biting your lip to stop any other filthy noises from escaping. What if she hears?

"Are you okay?" concern laced on Sarah's tone. Guilt creeps through the cracks of the worn-out paint of his bedroom, one your friend had practically begged him to restore; the joke of it all was that was about his job yet he couldn't fix his own goddamn house. "Y/n, did you hurt yourself?"

I'm treating you well, ain't I, doll? and then he'd grin against the crook of your neck before looking at you, his dark blown-wide pupils gazing at you with a hunger you didn't think it was possible. They'd burn, and the fire didn't scare you: it was the warm your cold body needed. Tell Sarah her daddy ain't hurting her slut of a friend.

"I-I'm fine" you manage to choke out. Good girl.

Joel's lids feel heavy as a crown. But you like 'em rough, don't 'cha, baby?

"Should I worry?"

Joel pulls harder, your scalp burning at the harsh tug. Answer when I ask. You breathe in heavily, and Sarah keeps on asking you if you're okay, threatening to burst through a dorm door she'll find empty.

"N-no" you meekly answer, and he laughs at your demeanor. Under his weight, pinned down on the mattress, there's nowhere to run to.

"Is it okay if I-"

"Sarah I need to hang, okay? My head hurts. Bye" it all comes down in a rush, the words a vomit of excuses. You make sure the call has ended, and so does Joel, that in an act of mercy, has stopped. You both look the screen until the lockscreen is back up again, a picture of you and Sarah. Despite used to having his weight on top of you, your throat feels constricted.

"Do you want to traumatize your daughter, Mr. Miller?"

He's back at his task of kissing, making you moan and writhe at the sensitivity of your kissed and bit skin during the last hour. You hate how he takes his time―edging you; unbearable.

"What I want is you"

The lie comes out effortlessly from his teeth. He wants you, needs you, but does he really want you? His daughter's best friend, the college girl he was going to lecture just last summer―to live life and forget about him, yet couldn't. He lies to himself, saying he didn't because you felt asleep, but feeling a warm body next to him, being your beautiful frame of all people, made it hard.

The way he makes a moaning mess out of you, how he knows every spot of your body no one had been able to please before, how your cunt stretches perfectly around his cock, how you call his name like no one else had done. It belongs to you now, and this is a vice.

It's like he's got a wound, and you're the only balm that can soothe the pain. But the effect is temporary, and after you leave, he always finds himself wanting more.

The doubt on his eyes has your heart beating out of fear.

"Then have me, Mr. Miller" you dare.

When Joel smiles, barely noticeable, something flutters in your stomach.

"Al'ight, impatient one. We have sum hours until Sarah's back. Spread" his hand nudges your thighs apart, and you oblige, making Joel chuckle at your obedience. "Good girl, baby. S'good f'r me"

You let out a gentle moan at the praise, and he smirks at your reaction.

"Feelin' desperate, are we?" he taunts, seeing your pretty lips parted and face flushed, a whine escaping them.

"Shut the fuck up and just kiss me already" you beg, pussy throbbing painfully.

"Damn brat" he hisses, "ain't you such'a needy greedy slut?" his finger hooks on your panties, tugging you closer into him, your body rising to clash against his softer frame that has nothing to do with his rough demeanor. You can feel the bulge that has formed through his pants, making you moan in delight.

"Sorry, daddy. I'll be a good girl" you squirm under his weight, pouting lips and batting eyelashes. "Please, kiss me. Pretty please, daddy"

"Jus' cus you asked well" but he knows it's an excuse to capture your sweet lips until he's tasted all of you. You once heard old men kiss like they want to devour every inch of your mouth, to make space for their tongue like it's going to live in there, and they were right.

He pulls away from the kiss to pull out his shirt, revealing his soft body. Your hands itch, immediatly reaching for it with wandering fingers. He chuckles at the eagerness, but then he catches the subtle adoration in your eyes, and his breath hitches, heart stopping.

"What's wrong?" you look up, and it's gone. Maybe he imagined it.

Joel doesn't know why he feels dissapointed by it.

He tries to push the thoughts back, head diving down between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and messy trails of saliva with his tongue on each one. He gives a special lick to your hardened nipples, making you squirm.

"Gonna bend y'r fuckin' sexy little body on this sheets. Gonna make you cum all'over, until y'r scent is'mpregnated on 'em"

You groan at his words, fingers pulling down the pajama shorts you brought over, revealing your pretty black laced lingerine.

"Fuck, baby. You wore 'em for me?" he's asking, and you'd be crazy if you think the tone reveals devotion. Is Joel even capable of warmth?

He leaves a new trail of kisses, this time, running from your neck to your stomach.

"Gonna make you scream my name 'til that's the only thin' you know how to say" his hot breath tingles over your abdomen. He buries his face in there, the mustache and scruffy graying hair tickling the skin. "Gon' give you such'a load, this flat stomach of yours will be bustin' with my seed"

You whine at his filthy words, mouth agape slightly. He looks at your soaked panties, arousal on clear display now. Joel's cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

He lets out a low growl. "Look at you, such'a slut for me. Drippin' wet like a fuckin' whore and desperate, when I ain't even touch you"

To prove so, Joel teasingly runs his fingers along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your soaking core.

He pulls your underwear down, taking them off.

"M'gonna fuck you real good, baby" his fingers dig on your thighs for support, the burning sensation of his calloused digits on your soft skin delicious. "Gon' take care of what's mine"

Mine.

The words ring loud and clear. The only other noise to be heard is his lips leaving wet sounds against your thighs. Does Joel even realize what he said? Or was it in the heat of the moment?

No, wait. Stop. Why do you care?

He begins to rub circles in your clit, coating his fingers in your dripping arousal, prodding the tense needy hole, making you moan in desperation.

"Please, daddy" your lips cry as you beg for him to do anything to remove the pain in between your legs.

"Please, what?" Joel teases, voice raspy. He keeps prodding your center, his digits in and out in a gentle manner, contrasting his hard hold on your thigh. You squirm and whine at the sensation, but maybe it's the dark on his eyes that's really responsable for making you shrink under his gaze. "Think 'm doin' this for ya'? To please ya'? No, baby" he tuts, "you were a bad girl. Almost got caught"

"If you didn't make me answer" you seethe, a moan almost escaping your lips when his fingers hit that sweet spot of yours. "Maybe if you didn't, she wouldn't-"

Joel removed his fingers from you, and you reduce to a moaning mess, begging for the release you were chasing and now it's lost.

"But you wanted'er to know, didn't ya'?" he unbuckles his belt and fumbles with his worn-out jeans, revealing a barely concealed neediness on his side. "Wanted'er to know where 'er slut of a friend was: at daddy's house, beggin' for his dick like a cockhungry slut"

"I-I want it. Want you dick" you barely choke out, lips parted at the sight of his pulsating dick's silhouette under his brief.

"Then take it, hungry one"

His tip buries deeply into your cunt before you even speak again, sliding inside in one swift motion. You gasp, as he fills you up completely, because despite the way your cunt stretches for him, or the way you have had his dick and need it, his girth never fails to amaze you.

"D-daddy" you moan, walls stretching to accommodate his size. Your sweet arousal drips down your thighs, coating Joel's balls. Fuck, doesn't he love to see you squirming under him. He's never had a woman like you before, wrapped around his finger. You may be a girl, but God, you feel so much better around his dick than anyone else: your cunt tenses around his cock deliciously, his dick twitching when he takes a look at your legs shaking and fucked out state.

"That's it, pretty girl. Beg for'it"

His words go straight to your core as you moan. "Please. Let me take all of you, Joel, please"

You said his name. Fuck. He shouldn't be this aroused, but the way you say it like that's the only thing you know, like it means something more, it makes his dick throb and heart sting. That he, Joel Miller, old bitter man, single dad, could mean more to a young pretty girl like you.

"Fuck" he grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair as he begins to pull out slowly, plunging inside of you with harsh movements. The sound of skin clapping is obscene as he begins to fuck you mercilessly. "Ain't you a noisy lil' thing, huh? You like that, baby? You like it rough?"

Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-yes, daddy. F-fuck, just like that. I like it a l-lot"

"Good girl" he grins satisfied with your respone, his thrusts getting rougher and messier. "Lookin' s'pretty with my dick's inside of you"

Joel changes angles without telling you, brushing your g-spot. A noise so loud and vulgar comes out of your parted lips, and you feel ashamed.

But then he's brushing a strand of hair from your face, with a delicacy you've seen reserved for his daughter only. It feels weird, and you try that it doesn't distract you from your looming orgasm.

"Joel..." you breath out his name.

"Yes?" with everything coming out of his mouth: possesiveness, neediness, pleasure. Like he'd give you the world if you just ask, despite telling himself he wouldn't.

"K-keep going"

Your gaze bores into his eyes with an intensity that almost makes him stop. Because the words are simple, but Joel's been alive enough on this Earth to know it doesn't mean just that.

Keep going. Don't stop. Don't end this. Don't let me go.

"Whatever m'princess asks if she asks 'em nice"

You scream in pleasure as his thrusts become deeper, his balls slapping against your cunt, as your slick begins to run down your thighs. Joel thinks he's going crazy at the way your folds take him, how tight you feel, and the loud noises you make, begging him to fuck you harder, to use you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, writhing under his touch as you begin to see stars.

"You close, aren't ya'?" he laughs, but it's devoid of mockery. A subtle softness hides behind them. Ask nicely, and I shall give. "Gon' cream 'round my dick like a good girl, right?"

His digits dig in the flesh of your hips, guiding himself to fuck you harder, for you to take him better, caging your body under the sheets, pushing you even closer to your orgasm. You mewl loudly, tears in the corner of your eyes at the delicious burn.

If you told yourself a year ago you'd be crying over Joel Miller's dick, of all people, you'd probably laugh. But no college boys had been able to please you, less bring you to tears as you reach your orgasm. This is heaven, and you aren't ready to say goodbye to the paradise you found in summer just yet.

Your core tenses around him, body so close to finishing, hair a mess, eyes brimming with tears, and lips spilling the filthiest sounds ever heard to humankind. It's heaven, and Joel isn't ready to give it up just yet. Your pussy throbs, and as your juices mix as one, you roll your eyes and head back, your high approaching, knot in your stomach tightening faster. Before you can register, your mind goes blank and you're seeing stars.

You come around his cock, coating it in your arousal as Joel admires how you cream his member, tight walls almost pushing him out of you. He groans at your simmering cries, some tears coming out of your eyes.

"What'e fuckin' slut, baby. You sure are somethin' else" he chuckles, his thrusts messier by his own high approaching. "Wait for me, yeah, baby?"

You humm, as he buries deep into you, filling you up completely, as his hips stop their harsh movements when he feels the tension in his abdomen release.

"Fuckin' sweet" he uses a finger to clean some of the slick that's run down your leg. "Good girl"

He licks them off in an obscene display, making sure to never break contact.

"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna become a real bad girl" you taunt.

Then he pulls out of you carefully, doing his best not to spill too much of his load from your cunt. He grabs one of the corners of his sheets, cleaning some of his seed from your thighs. Joel should be careful, but all his foggy mind can muster is you being his in every way he can. Making you his. Mine. Mine. Mine. You plead him not to do that, but he argues laundry day is soon and he likes it better when it smells like you anyway. You confess with a cute light blush in your cheeks that you do the same when he comes over to fuck you in your dorm, sleeping better when the covers smell like him. He shouldn't feel like this: like it could be. But he allows himself to, even for an instant.

"Oh, yeah?" he pants, "what you gon' do?"

Your eyes travel to his jeans and untied buckle he hadn't wasted time taking off, rather just pulling them down.

"I have something in mind..." you wander off, remembering filthy thoughts of your first night together, how you briefly thought about it. "I-" you cut off, blushing furiously.

"Yes?" he holds your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him as his rough fingers press on the skin. "Remember what I told ya', baby? To ask nicely? 'Cause you said you'd be a good girl, so be one and tell daddy what'd ya' want"

You gulp, trying to hold his gaze. You never back down. You never back down. But the intensity of the shinning copper makes that insufferable character of yours to be tamed, boiling against the surface but just scratching, all screams lost. Is like he knows this power over you, acting on it with a benevolence so sick, it has you thinking loving Joel Miller isn't impossible.

You never back down, but being with Joel feels like walking over stones, always thinking about the next step and the ones that were, ghosts of the lingering doubts and afterthoughts behind every step you take. It's like there's a river below them, washing away regret.

But you're still here: water up your knees then and now over your head.

You're barely floating. You'd be willing to drown anyway.

"I want to ride your belt buckle"

There's silence in the other side, until its met with a light chuckle.

"Yeah?" Joel keeps on laughing, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "S'that what that filthy head of yours be thinkin' on?"

"Stop it" you groan, covering your hot face with your palms. You wish you could erase that ugly smirk off his face. "I'm never telling you anything again, ever"

"Now c'mon, baby. I was jus' messin' 'round" his tone adquires a soft edge to it, tender warm hands removing yours from your face. "Don't cover your face, baby. You're too goddam pretty" you blush, and Joel better resist the urge to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. "I didn't mean to make fun of ya'. You know y'can tell me anythin' that's goin' inside that head of yours"

"Then you'll let me?" your pretty eyes look up to him, shinning like the stars of the summer night sky months ago.

He can't deny you anything, and a small crack of fear wounds his impenetrable heart.

"Get'ere you filthy slut"

You eagerly climb onto his lap as he sits against the beds headboard, your thighs pushing against his belly.

"Now" he tries to put in a more comfortable position, his tired joints creaking. He avoids your gaze, coughing over his blush. "You do all the job, baby. I ain't gonna help you, this greedy pussy took all of my energy"

You giggle, moving until your bare pussy clashes against the cold. A shiver runs down your spine, the dried juices moistening again over the metal piece. His hands move to your hips, hands now soft as they hold you, and he seems unsure of it, both of your breaths coming out ragged.

"You said you weren't gonna help" you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. His face feels closer, and you can see lines time has marked across his features. "But thanks, daddy"

His heart takes a dangerous leap.

"'Course, baby" he smiles. "You know I spoil ya' too damn much"

You begin to roll your hips, sliding your pussy over the cold material, your arousal making a wet slick sound that bounces off the walls, a shiver down your back as you feel your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

"Mmm, can't say no to me, can you, baby?" you mock, rocking your hips back and forth. A shaky breath escapes your parted lips, and Joel feels his renovated dick spring hard. You moan, your ass barely touching his now tense member.

"Quit runnin' that mouth of y'rs, baby" his digits dig on your skin, "or I'll bend ya' over again"

"Sorry, daddy" you feel the metal star on the middle digging inside your pussy, the borders of the imprint brushing your leaking cunt in a pleasant way. "I promise to be good"

"Do" he grunts, "you're runnin' out of time, doll"

You close your eyes, movements more quick and erratic, little moans leaving your body as you groan.

"Tell me how this lil' experiment of yours feelin', baby"

"F-feels good, daddy. Fuck" you groan, lifting your hips a bit as you grind yourself down across the material. "So so good, daddy. Thank you, daddy"

"Mmm, that's right. Now be a good girl and come for me. Let me see that pretty face of yours when ya' come over ma' belt"

You let out a shaky breath, juices spilling over his jeans even as you see stars. He chuckles, enamoured at the sight.

"You gonna need help with that?" you point out his boner.

Oh, aren't you a doll? So kind-hearted.

"That's okay" he breathes out, tiredly. He thinks of the next trip to the bathroom, the image of what he'll fuck himself to clear now.

You smile at him, for the first time forgetting this started as a blowing-off-steam-time or transaction.

For a moment, it feels like it could be.

"Jus' seein' you cum all over me so prettily is'nough, baby"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs

[guess-my-next-obsession]

blue. | chapter one

pairing: bfd!joel miller x curvy!fem!reader

chapter warnings: series is 18+ only, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader's age is set at 25, joel is 40), best friend's dad trope, reader works at a bikini bar (race is a blank slate but reader is described as being curvy/plus size and is very much comfortable in her skin), divorced!joel, alcohol consumption, i think that's all for now :)

word count: 4k

next chapter | series masterlist

Blue.

It’s the color of your bikini top, the shade of your painted nails, the flavor of the popsicle you reach for when the Texas heat gets to be too much. It’s your chosen name here at The Boot—the bikini bar you’ve been working at for the last year since graduating college. 

Every girl who works up front is given a code name, something catchy for regulars to remember. It helps build a sense of familiarity without compromising privacy or safety, and given the nature of the job, you can never be too safe. 

One month into the job, you’d seen first-hand just how obsessed some customers can get. A girl who’d been working at The Boot a year or two longer than you slipped up one night when talking to one of the newer bartenders. Instead of calling her by her chosen name, Peaches, she used her real name, Deanna. What should have been a silly mistake turned into something dark and dangerous when a customer that had been a bit too interested in Deanna finally had a name to go off of. A quick internet search led him right to her front door. Thankfully, her husband was the one to open the door that night—with a loaded shotgun in hand—but it was a close enough call to scare Deanna away from The Boot for good. 

Ever since then, everyone keeps their real names to themselves. The minute you step through that door, you’re no longer the person you’ve always been. Here at The Boot, you’re Blue, the unattainable, curvy, slightly sarcastic but always flirty bartender that keeps customers coming back for more even though they’ll never get it. 

And most of the time, you enjoy playing the part. 

It’s almost like being a part of a cast, coming here to work with a bunch of women who you’ll never really know. You might see them outside of work here and there, but it’s always a character you’re running into. The customers are no different. They come here playing a part, and you play one right back. 

There’s no truth in any of it, and that’s usually for the best. 

But there are moments, like this one tonight, that make you wish for a little bit of honesty. 

Because if you’re being honest, the man sitting at the end of the bar—the man with dark brown eyes, soft, messy waves in his hair, and shoulders broad enough to bring a girl to her knees—looks a whole lot like someone you’d like the other version of you to meet. The girl who has more to offer than a fake name and an exaggerated persona. The girl who could bring a man like him home for the night without the nagging thought that he’s only doing it to say he managed to bed one of the illusive girls at The Boot. 

But as it stands, the only girl he’ll get to meet is Blue. And Blue isn’t the kind of girl to bring home a customer, no matter how much she might want to. 

“What can I get you, handsome?” The compliment is genuine, but it’s also something you’d say to any man who sat down at your zone of the bar. 

Judging by the way Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rugged looks at you, his brown eyes sparkling red and blue from the neon signs behind you, tells you that he knows that too. 

“Whiskey neat.” His voice is deep and rough, with just the slightest hint of a Texas twang. It’s as sexy as he is, and that’s just plain cruel. 

You give him a quick smile before turning to the wall of liquor behind you and grabbing a bottle of Jack off the shelf, only for him to stop you.

“The good whiskey,” he says, bringing your eyes back to his for a beat. 

You smile and nod as you turn back to the wall and grab one of the nicer bottles off the top shelf before turning back to the bar to pour his glass. “What’s the occasion?”

He sighs as he turns towards the entrance, seemingly waiting for someone to walk through the door. “No occasion. Just a…date, I guess.”

You slide the crystal tumbler towards top before resting your elbows on the wooden bar top, a tactic you usually use to get bigger tips after giving customers an eyeful of cleavage, but there’s no hidden agenda behind it tonight. “No judgement and all, but is this really the best place to bring a woman on a date?”

He breathes out a humorless chuckle as he lifts the glass up to his lips for a sip. “Believe it or not, this was her idea. I’ve never been here so I just thought this was a normal bar, not...”

“Not one notch from a strip club,” you say with a smirk. “Yeah, I can’t say I’d ever bring a date here. When I go out with someone, I want to be the only thing they’re looking at all night.” Leaning in conspiratorially, you lower your voice to a whisper and give him a wink. “The next morning, too.” 

He eyes you for a moment, a soft, barely there smile tugging at his lips as his eyes bounce across your features before he finally lets out a breathy chuckle. You get the sense that this is the closest thing to a full laugh he gives most people. 

“Yeah, well…can’t imagine that’s all that hard to do,” he says, glancing down at his cup just as the door opens and a long-legged redhead steps inside the building. 

Dressed in skin-tight jeans, a low-cut black tank, and a pair of heels, she looks like a femme fatale straight out of every man’s wet dream. She’s older than you, but not quite as old as the man in front of you—if he’s somewhere in his forties, she’s around her late thirties. Her walk exudes the femininity and sensuality of a woman who’s lived plenty life, the sway of her hips and upward tilt of her chin carrying an air of confidence you haven’t yet mastered. 

And, of course, she’s headed straight towards Mr. Tall, Dark, and Rugged. 

“Joel,” she purrs from behind him, her voice just as graceful as her gait. The man in front of you—Joel, it seems—turns his head towards her, a cold look washing over his face as he takes her in. 

Maybe he’s just as intimidated by her as you are. 

“Shannon,” he says, extending his hand out for her to take. Her perfectly manicured hand fits in his softly as she takes him in, her green eyes bouncing across his handsome features before trailing down to the T-shirt and jeans he’s wearing. She frowns in disapproval. 

“Did you come straight from work?” There’s a disappointed lilt to her voice. As if this obviously blue-collar man showing up to a run down bikini bar on a Friday night in a pair of faded blue jeans and a simple black T-shirt actually irks her. 

Clearly much too invested in their interaction, you force yourself to move down the bar to check in on Jerome—a regular that’s been coming here since long before you were hired. He’s not awful as far as regulars go. Jerome just likes to sit down on his favorite stool every night and drink until he’s blind. Sometimes, he’ll make conversation, but more often than not, he just sits there and quietly sips his drink. 

“Doin’ good over here, Jer?” you ask, propping your hip against the counter as you follow his gaze towards Joel’s date. 

Maybe it’s telling that you managed to remember his name and not hers. 

“S’that your cup of tea?” you ask with a smirk. He’s not usually the ogling kind, despite his favorite bar being so catered to the male gaze. 

“Looks just like my wife,” he says, his slurred words thick with something heavy. “Ex-wife, I s’pose.”

“She must’ve been a real looker back in the day, then.” 

He scoffs, lifting his glass to his lips. “Looked good enough to fuck the whole neighborhood and leave me with nothin’ but a broken heart and a lifetime of alimony payments.”

Unsure of what exactly to say to that, you decide to cut through the tension with a joke. “You should go warn him then. Save him the trouble.”

Jerome eyes you for a moment before turning back to the couple. With a huff, he sets his drink down and stands up, stumbling down the empty bar to where Joel is seated and his date is still standing. 

You hiss at him to sit back down, but he’s got a drunken, one-track mind right now. 

“Pardon me, son,” he slurs, tapping Joel on the shoulder as you look on with abject horror written all over your face. “You ever had your heart broken before?”

Joel’s eyes narrow with confusion as he looks at Jerome before letting his gaze travel to you down the bar. Averting your eyes, you quickly grab a cloth and pretend to wipe the perfectly clean counter rather than continue to watch the scene you accidentally crafted unfold. 

“Yeah, somethin’ like that,” Joel says, his voice colder than it had been with you. His date scoffs from beside him, and his eyes roll in response. 

“Well, women like your friend right here are nothin’ but heart breakers wrapped in a pretty package,” he says, though his words are hardly intelligible. “Best t’stay away from ‘em if y’can.”

“Jerome,” you hiss, and thankfully, he listens this time. “Come sit down. I’ll pour you one on the house.”

Jerome nods before turning back to Joel and patting him on the shoulder. “Y’hear me?” 

Joel’s lips purse but he gives him a quick nod before turning back to the woman beside him. They fall into quiet, but strained conversation as you fix your attention back onto Jerome. 

“I didn’t mean for you to actually go up to him, Jer,” you scold, refilling his jack and coke. “Can’t have you cock-blocking during people’s dates.”

He chuckles and tilts his head towards the pair. “Hardly looks like there’s gonna be any cock to block between them two.”

You let yourself steal a few glances their way as subtly as you can manage, and sure enough, the two of them look like they’re ready to claw each other’s throats out. 

Maybe this isn’t a budding relationship, after all. 

Maybe there’s some sort of history here that’s got Joel on edge and Jolene—you still can’t remember her name for the life of you—on defense mode. 

“What do you think the story is, then?” you ask, unable to stop yourself. 

“Mm, maybe she ran off with his dog to play house with his best friend,” he muses, rubbing two fingers against his gray, wiry beard as the two of you eavesdrop together. 

“Maybe he was the one that hurt her,” you say, although your gut is telling you that’s not the case. Jolene looks too smug, too amused by Joel’s rigid posture to be the wronged. “Or maybe it’s some kind of role play they get up to. Who fucking knows”

“Why don’t you go on and ask?” Jerome says with a drunken smile. “You seem so goddamn interested, after all.”

You feign a gasp, clutching your nonexistent pearls. “You’re the one who stumbled over there with words of advice.”

“Well, you told me to,” he counters. 

Rolling your eyes, you decide to venture over there and check in on the pair, telling yourself it’s just because Joel’s drink is empty and his date has yet to order. 

“Can I get y’all started on another round?” 

Joel sighs and swings his head towards you, an almost pleading look in his dark brown eyes. “Just the tab.”

Jolene scoffs and levels a glare at you. “I’d like a drink. Or are you only serving men tonight?”

Arching an eyebrow at her, you nearly tell her to fuck right off with her attitude, but Joel cuts in before you get the chance. 

“This clearly isn’t workin’, Shannan,” he says, hanging his head for a beat before lifting his defeated gaze to meet hers. “Let’s just sign the papers and be done with it.”

Sensing that this moment is about to get a whole lot more personal than you’d like, you step away—back towards Jerome—and watch as Shannan, not Jolene, pulls a folder out of her giant purse and shoves it towards Joel. 

“Seventeen years down the drain just like that,” she says, tutting her tongue as she watches him slip the papers out and pull a pen from his back pocket. “All because I made a little mistake?”

Joel says nothing in response as he signs his name on each flagged line while you, Jerry, and Shannan all look on with varying levels of interest. 

Leaning over the bar, close enough for you to smell the liquor and cigarettes on his breath, Jerry whispers. “I don’t think it’s role play, darlin’.”

It’s a quarter past midnight by the time you close out and hang up your metaphorical apron. The bar’s nearly empty, save for a few stragglers that like to stick around until Miguel—the closing manager—kicks them out. 

With your purse slung over your shoulder and your tips securely tucked away inside a zip-lock for you to count out in the morning, you make your way out of the bar and into the warm summer night. You traded your bikini top for a tank, but with it being this sweltering out, you almost wish you hadn’t. Sweat trickles down the nape of your neck to the valley between your breasts, drawing a map to a very neglected part of your body, because despite what most customers must think of you considering your line of work, you just haven’t had the time or energy to get much action lately. 

That and the dating pool is more like a cesspit these days. 

Breathing out a sigh, you listen to your feet as they crunch against the gravel parking lot with each step towards your old beater of a truck. It’s a hand-me-down from your father, one of the only good things he’s ever given you, and that’s not saying much considering how often the old Ford ends up at the mechanic’s. 

Just as you open up the cab and set your purse inside, your phone rings and illuminates the darkness around you. You pick up the call with a smile on your face, already anticipating what stories your best friend will have to tell from her Friday night in Dallas. 

Sarah’s four years younger than you, but the friendship came easy anyways. You were late to go to college, having to stick around and save up for school after graduating high school, and Sarah was an early graduate at just seventeen. Getting paired up to share a dorm freshman year was pure coincidence, but everything afterwards felt like destiny. She’d been the little sister you never had, the confidant you always longed for, and in return you helped steer her away from frat boys. 

“Hey,” you say, cradling the phone between your shoulder and ear as you heave yourself into the truck. “How was the date with Chad? Or was it Kyle? I can’t remember which finance-bro you’re talking to right now.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Sarah says. “His name is Marcus, and he’s actually an attorney. Very fancy. Very sexy. Kind of boring.”

“Just your type,” you tease as the engine roars to life. “Does he get a second date?”

“Eh,” she hums, and you can practically see her tilting her head to either side. “We’ll see. He didn’t try to take me home on the first date, so that’s a win. But anyways, I didn’t call to give you a rundown on my shitty love life. Are you doing tomorrow?”

You chuckle dryly. “Besides working? No. You know I’m a hermit unless I’m getting paid to be a social butterfly.” 

“Okay, well I miss you enough to pay you to come see me,” she says. “All the beer and carne asada you can eat if you come with me to my dad’s barbecue tomorrow afternoon.”

You bite your lip, contemplating the offer. It’s not as if you don’t miss your best friend. After living together all throughout college, it’s a special kind of torture having to be this far apart from each other—her busy with her new career in Dallas and you stuck here in Austin. You just haven’t felt like yourself in a while. 

Call it the breakup blues, but ever since your last relationship, you’ve found a certain comfort in staying home and wallowing by yourself. But you’ve been a lonely hermit for far too long, and the thought of seeing Sarah after so many months of distance is just appealing enough to have you considering coming out of your shell. 

“I’ll have to find someone to cover for me, but it’s a yes, if I can get off work,” you say. “Your dad’s here in Austin, right?”

You’d heard plenty about her dad over the years. According to Sarah, he was the best dad in the world. It was her stepmom, the one who came in a few years after her biological mom had passed, that sucked. 

“Yeah, he just moved into a new place a few streets down from your apartment, actually,” she says. “So you definitely can't flake and blame it on the commute.”

Rolling your eyes, you hold up your middle finger to the phone even though she can’t see the gesture. “Fine, I’ll try my best to show up and meet daddy dearest. But it’s time for me to go home and get into bed. Long shift. Weird divorce paper exchange from a pair of customers tonight. The guy was sexy and completely not age appropriate and the wife was a cunt.” 

“Oh, the joys of working at The Boot,” she sighs. “Text me when you’re home.”

“Will do. Love ya.”

“Love ya back.” 

You weren’t able to get your shift covered last minute, but thankfully, one of the morning girls offered to switch shifts with you. Truthfully, she got the better end of the deal considering how slow and cheap the morning patrons are. But you’ve saved up enough to not need the tips for one night, and seeing Sarah is more than worth the sacrifice. 

It’s nearly the end of your shift when a familiar face steps into the bar, his dark eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Feeling nervous for no apparent reason, you shoot Joel a smile and a wave. 

He’s in a hunter green T-shirt today that pulls against his broad chest and shoulders, accentuating the light brown of his skin, and unlike last night, he put on a pair of stainless dark wash jeans that hug his long legs just right. If the whole blue-collar, working man thing did it for you last night, this cleaned up version of him is enough to make you sweat. 

“Blue,” he says, glancing at your name tag that’s pinned to the flimsy fabric of your bralette. “I see they’ve got y’all in even less clothes than last night.”

You laugh without faking it. “Saturday is lingerie night—or day, I guess. If you’re looking to find me a little more covered up, I’d suggest coming on Sunday. We wear tank tops on the Lord’s day.” 

Giving you a devastating smile, he nods and raps his knuckles against the bar top, eyeing the liquor behind you rather than meeting your stare. “I wasn’t complainin’.”

You breathe out a sigh in an attempt to clear your stomach of the butterflies fluttering there. “Can I get you something to drink? My shift’s almost over, but I’ll leave you in the hands of one of the other girls. They’re even easier on the eyes than me.”

His eyes flit back to yours before dropping to your cleavage and back up. “I don’t know about that.” 

Yeah. 

Fuck him and these fucking butterflies. 

“But, no. I didn’t come for a drink. Or—well, I guess I did,” he says, suddenly going shy on you as he shuffles his feet and looks away. “I was wonderin’ if y’all sell drinks to go. I got a little get together I’m throwin’ tonight.”

“Looks like everyone’s throwing a party tonight,” you say, smiling. “Yeah, we sell cocktails by the gallon. But I’m going to warn you, the way I make them is fruity and highly dangerous. I’d sip with caution, unless you plan on giving your guests a striptease tonight.”

Another slight tug of his lips. “Unlike you, I don't think many people would enjoy the sight of me stripping down.” 

“You'd be surprised,” you flirt, and for once, it’s not an act. “Anyways, let me go ahead and get those drinks started for you. It’ll just take a second.”

“No rush,” he says, settling into one of the stools. 

His presence is a warm thing, even with your back turned as you go through the motions of funneling vodka, rum, and tequila into the different cocktail gallons. You can feel his gaze on your body, trailing across the expanse of your exposed curves and dips, right down to the round globes of your ass hardly concealed by a pair of lacy blue boyshorts. They’re just see-through enough to give him a glimpse at the skin beneath, but you feel naked in a way you don’t normally. Being a curvy woman in this industry usually means one of two things—either you’re fetishized or you’re ignored.

But it’s different with Joel. You don’t feel like he’s eyeing you like this because you fit some sort of kink he’s into. It just feels he’s a man who likes what he sees.

Clearing your throat, you start talking just to keep yourself from thinking. “So what’s the party for?”

“Well, as I’m sure you saw last night, I’m gettin’ a divorce,” he says, his deep voice bringing an ache to your core despite the nature of the conversation. There’s nothing sexy about divorce, nor should there be about a man at least fifteen years your senior. But here you are, turned on anyways. “The party was my brother’s idea. Get myself back out there and all that. Socialize.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that.”

He scoffs. “I’m not all that enthusiastic about startin’ over again at my age, that’s all.” 

“How old are you?”

God, please don’t let him be older than your father. 

“Forty,” he says. 

That’s not too bad. Just fifteen years. He was practically still a kid when you were born. Totally acceptable. 

Right?

“You’re still plenty young,” you say, rather than what you want to say. “Don’t hang your hat up just yet.”

“Easy for you to say,” he chuckles. “You don’t have a bad back or achy knees yet.”

“Hey, I work on my feet all day,” you challenge, shooting him a smirk from over your shoulder and inadvertently confirming your suspicions on what his eyes were locked in on. Turning back around, you hide the way your lips part in response. “My back aches plenty.”

Silence falls between the two of you as you finish up his gallons just in time to clock out. You quickly ring him up and slide the jugs his way, but he must be feeling just as flustered over the interaction as you are given the way his eyes refuse to meet yours for long. 

“Remember what I said about those drinks,” you say, catching him as he hurries to leave. Joel shoots a bashful smile your way, tipping his chin at you before pushing through the door. 

And for the first time in your career—if that’s what you’d call this job—you hope to run into a customer outside of work.

[ovulationation]

Big Girl

Pairing: bfd!Joel x reader

Summary: Joel Miller gets called to pick you and his drunken daughter up from a party. With a week left before you leave for college, Joel doesn’t think you’re ready for it.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p-in-v (wrap it up, folks), daddy kink, praise, kitchen, creampie, best friend’s dad, age gap (reader is 19, Joel is around 40)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Sarah had been inseparable since kindergarten. You did everything together. Every all nighter, every time you needed a new dress for a school dance, every new trend you did together. Sarah’s parents worked a lot so she spent almost all her extra time at your house.

When high school came around things started changing. Sarah’s mom left and her dad threw himself into his work. Sarah started going wild and you went right along with her. You started sneaking out, hooking up with boys, and partying every weekend. You both graduated high school (barely) and somehow made it into the same college. With only a week left until you moved into your dorm. Everyone was throwing the last parties of the summer, eager to get last memories with their high school friends.

That’s how you got where you are now, the loud blaring of the speakers as you danced in the random basement of the night. Sarah was beyond tipsy, dancing on the beer pong table while the guys all ogled her body in her short skirt and tight top. You were, unfortunately, the designated driver of the evening. Leaving you with the slightest buzz that had all but faded away.

You pulled out your phone, cursing when you saw the time.

“We gotta go, babe,” you yelled to Sarah over the thumping bass of the speakers.

Sarah look down at you with a pout as you grabbed her arm and helped her onto the dirt floor. Her white sneakers landed in a puddle of something spilled and you winced.

“Don’t wanna,” she whined, throwing her head back for dramatic effect.

You patted her back as you pushed her through the crowd in front of you.

“I know but your dad is gonna be getting home soon and we gotta get back before he realizes we’re gone.”

Sarah groaned as you push her up the stairs of the basement and into the backyard. You led her to the car as you fished around in your handbag.

“Fuck,” you groan and lean your forehead against the window.

Sarah didn’t hear you, too busy flirting with some grimy Super Senior™ to realize you had somehow lost the keys to her shiny new graduation gift.

You pull her away from the walking STD, and pull her back to the car.

“I lost the keys, I need you to keep your hand right here and Don’t. Move.” You spoke slowly, pushing her hand against the hood of the car. She nodded slowly with drooping eyelids then giggled.

“You look soooo funny when you’re serious.” She laughed and stumbled. You shoot her a half serious glare and head back into the basement to search for the keys.

After fifteen minutes of searching the dirty floor with your phone flashlight and trying to shout at people through the loud music, you come back up victoriously holding the keys in your hand. Your victory doesn’t last long when you see Sarah standing next to the car, and her dad next to her.

“Oh shit,” you groan as you walk up to them.

“Oh shit is right,” Joel glares down at you, Sarah draped against his shoulder.

“I called my dad to help,” Sarah giggled.

“I can explain-“

“In. Now.” Joel growls, pointing to his truck.

You just nod and walk over to the car. Joel drags Sarah into the back seat where she promptly passes out. You jump into the front seat and Joel gets into the driver seat, grumpily buckling up and peeling out of the driveway.

The drive back is tense. Only the sounds of Sarah snoring and the low grumble of the road. Joel occasionally glances at you then back at the road, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. You pull down your tight fitting dress. Maybe he’ll go easier on you if you don’t look like you belong on a street corner.

The car pulls into the driveway and Joel pulls Sarah out. You walk behind him as he carries her into her bedroom. Every glare he throws your way makes you duck your head more.

You can’t remember a time when you saw him this mad, but you were usually sneakier than this. You guys had never gotten caught, you always got home on time and made sure any evidence was gone before a parent could find it. Usually you would be back at your house with your sweet, but unfortunately super gullible parents who didn’t think you and Sarah could ever do anything wrong.

You helped Sarah into some pajamas and hoped to sneak out of the front door. You carefully walked through the living room, trying your hardest not to make any noise. The sound of a cupboard slamming shut behind you has you almost jumping out of your skin. You jump around, looking straight at Joel.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Miller.” You immediately start.

“Look, I understand. You’re 19, you think it’s cool to go to parties,” Joel starts, his expression hard. He leans back against the counter, gesturing to the stool across from him. You scurry over and sit, pulling the hem of your dress down. “But this shit is dangerous. Y’all getting drunk and being around all those hormonal boys or God forbid getting behind a wheel.”

“I’m not drunk,” You argue, but one look from Joel has you shrinking back in your seat.

“You’re leaving in a week and you have no idea the shit that college boys think,” he crosses his arms across his chest. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up to his elbows showing off his muscular forearms.

“I’m a big girl I can handle it.” You shoot back with a bite.

His eyebrows raise at your tone and he pushes off the counter to stand at his full height. Looking down at your smaller frame on the stool.

You can feel a wave of rebellion coarse through you as you look up at him. Sarah spent most of her time over the years at your house so you never really got to know Joel. You would see him in passing or at big life events for Sarah, but you rarely had to deal with him one on one. The fact that he could just stand there and scold you like a child when he didn’t even know you made anger bubble up inside you.

“You’re a big girl?” He steps closer to you.

You nod, suddenly feeling like prey being hunted

“Y-yes,” you stumble.

“You don’t sound too sure, Darlin,” he smirks down at you.

His eyes travel down, down to the hem of your too-tight dress that had made its way dangerously close to the top of your thighs. You cross your legs and squeeze your thighs together, hoping to shield yourself from his sight and hoping to stop the dull ache that had started to form.

“These aren’t the boys you’re used to dealing with, these are men. Can you handle a man?”

You bite your lip at his words. Maybe you were drunk. There’s no way q your best friend’s dad was standing less than a foot in front of you, undressing you with those brown eyes. There’s no way he was flirting with you after chastising you not even a minute ago. There’s no way you were enjoying it.

You nod up at him. “I can handle a man.”

He grins down at you, “prove it.”

Those two words set something ablaze in you. In a flash you’re snaking your arms around his neck and bringing his mouth to yours greedily. He returns it hungrily, wrapping his arms around your back.

You stumble off the stool and his hands are immediately on your ass. You let out a little yelp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You gasp into the kiss, breathing him in as he explores every inch of your tongue.

His hands grip your ass, supporting you as you jump back onto the counter, leaving him stand in in between your spread legs. The hard bulge in the front of his pants rubs again you and he lets out a low groan against your lips.

He detaches his lips from yours, dragging them down your neck. He ruts softly against your clothed core, making you whimper and close your eyes. He growls against your neck, continuing his assault. You reach down to the front of his pants, sloppily undoing his belt.

Your hand slithers into his pants, wrapping around his impressive length. Your thumb grazes over his silky tip and he hisses, pulling back. He grabs your wrist

“Not yet, baby,” he mutters, starting to slowly kiss his way down your neck.

“Need it,” You whine, trying to pull him back to you with your legs.

His hands move to your thighs, pushing them apart to stop them from pulling him in. He pulls back and looks down at you, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen. He pushes the hem of your dress up to your waist, revealing the black lacy panties that you wore for the party.

He drops to his knees, staring at the little pretty pink bow sitting on the front. His eyes never leave yours as he takes the bow between his teeth, pulling it back and then letting go. Letting it snap back to your skin. You feel yourself clench around nothing beneath the fabric and bite your swollen bottom lip.

“Look at that bow,” he groans, pushing his face forward again. His nose rubs against the bow as he presses a kiss directly to your clothed clit. “You’re like a present, wrapped up for me.”

“Mr. Miler please,” you gasp, not sure how much more you can take.

“Please what, baby,” He presses another kiss to the same spot.

“Please just do something,” Your lips parting in a needy whine. You try to move your hips forward, desperate for more, but his hold on your thighs tightens, stilling your movements. You groan in frustration.

Joel slips his fingers into the side of your panties, stretching them and pulling them aside. He lets out a groan as he sees you finally. Your swollen pink folds slick with your own arousal. He presses another kiss, this time to your bare clit. You gasp and tug in his hair, he lets out a growl.

“You taste so sweet, darlin,”

His tongue darts out to tease around your bundle of nerves, licking circles around it but never hitting it where you want. You pant above him, letting out little whimpers as he teases you.

His hand moves travels from your thigh to your stomach. His fingers splay out against your skin and pushes you back until your back hits the cold granite.

Your fingers tug hard when his lips latch around your clit, suckling against it as his tongue massages the bud.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, bringing a hand up to your mouth to muffle your noises.

His hand that isn’t pinning you down into the countertop makes its way down. You feel a finger prod at your entrance and you gasp.

His finger slips in easily to your soaked hole. You bite down on your hand, trying to keep yourself from being too loud. You lift your head up, looking down at where he’s connected to you and find him looking directly at you. Your walls clench around him at the sight.

He slips another finger in, slowly thrusting them into you. Those brown pupils are blown wide in desire as he watched you whine, trying to grind down on him. He scissors those thick fingers inside of you and you moan, squeezing them.

He groans against your clit, sending vibrations up through your body like the best vibrator money could buy. You feel that ball starting to tighten deep in your abdomen.

“C-close, Joel, so close,” you gasp, groaning when that hand stops you from grinding against his face.

“Gonna cum on my fingers?” He asks, mouth still attached to your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Yes, yes, please,” you moan.

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that sensitive, spongey spot. That quickly sends you over the edge, your walls clamp down, fluttering around his fingers. You bite your hand, a few moans still coming through.

He continues to massage that spot inside you and suck on your sensitive clit, far past the last aftershock of your orgasm. You let out whimpers about him, your hands that were pulling on his scalp now trying to push him away as he licks up the last of your arousal. You pull him up and away from your sensitive core.

He brings the back of his hand up to his mouth, wiping away the slick left behind. His eyes never leave yours for a second.

You sit back up, your hands flying back to the front of his jeans. You push them down, his thick length popping out. You bite your lip at the sight.

“Like what you see?”

You look back up at Joel, a smirk on his face. You didn’t want to play, you just felt hot need pulsing through your veins.

You look directly into his eyes as you wrap your hand around him, pumping slowly. His smirk wavers at your light touch. You sweep your thumb across the tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum.

His breath hitches as he watches you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking the droplet. He groans deep in his throat at the sight. You grin up at him.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he growls, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and resting it against your puffy folds. The underside of him rubs against your sensitive clit.

“Please fuck me,” you pout up at him. His face goes back to your throat, kissing and suckling the soft flesh.

“You want my cock, baby?” He groans at the base of your throat.

“Yes, please give it to me,” you whine. He slides through your slick folds, lubricating himself with your arousal. His tip hitches against your clit and you moan into his ear, clutching at his shoulders.

“Please, Joel, please,” you beg desperately.

He pulls back and grins at your flushed face, “love hearing you beg for me, sweetheart.”

He hands massage your thighs, pushing them apart. You grab the base of his dick, guiding the fat head towards where you need it most. You’re both panting, watching as he notches himself against your entrance.

He slowly starts to ease himself in, stretching you inch by delicious inch. You can’t remember the last time, if ever, you were stretched like this. He was right, you were dealing with men now. And you loved it.

You bite your lip to stifle your moan as he bottoms out inside you. He stills, panting but never taking his eyes off where you’re connected. His lips swollen in a pant as he throbs inside of you. You place slow kisses along his chest, urging him to move.

He groans as he pulls back, then snaps his hips forward. You whimper at the feeling.

“Taking me like a fucking champ, baby.” He praises and you clench around him, whining pitifully. “Taking it like such a big girl.”

You whine as he uses your earlier words against you. His hand pushes you back onto the countertop as he lazily thrusts into you. His hand wrapping around your dress bunched up at your waist. His other hand wraps around your ankle, bringing it up and over his shoulder, then the other one.

The new angle causes him to push his tip into that sensitive spot inside you. You let out a louder moan at the feeling.

“F-fuck,” you gasp, clenching around him. You feel that ball inside you start to tighten again.

“I’m not gonna last much,” you stop to moan again, as he kisses your calf. “Not gonna last much longer.”

The hand wrapped around your dress pulls you forward, making him reach deeper into you.

“Gonna cum all over my cock?” He groans down at you, using your dress as a handle to pull you back onto him over and over again as his pace picks up.

You nod and whimper.

His free hand snakes down to rub your clit in tight little circles, making you squirm under him and moan.

“Come on, baby, cum all over daddy’s cock.” He groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy and you know that he’s holding back on his own impending release.

His hand comes up to cover your mouth, his other hands still rubbing furiously against your sensitive nub. Something deep inside you snaps and send you tumbling over the edge, your vision going white as you clench around him hard. His thick cock still pistoning deep inside you.

His hand does little to muffle your moans and instead he pushes his thumb into your mouth. Your tongue wraps around him and you suckle greedily on the digit.

He groans at the sight, his hips snapping harder against yours.

“Not gonna last much longer, darlin,” his voice hitches when you graze your teeth along his thumb. “Where d’you want it?”

You let his thumb slip out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ and bite your lip. “Want it inside me, daddy.” You say, giving him a fucked out look.

His hips stumble as he looks at your pouty, swollen lips and wide eyes. “Want me to fill you up?”

You nod, his thumb still resting on your bottom lip, “please.” You beg.

He leans down, capturing your lips in his as he gives a few more sloppy, fast strokes. Then groaning into your mouth as he stills deep inside you, spilling his release into you.

You gasp as you feel the warmth spread through you, reaching deeper and deeper inside you. You swallow his moans, letting him rut inside you lazily as he comes down from his high.

He raises back up, pulling out of you. You’re so sensitive that you let out a quiet whimper at the feeling. He grabs a rag warm rag and starts slowly cleaning you.

Silence hangs in the air around you. You’re suddenly aware of everything that just happened. You just fucked your best friend’s dad. Your best friend’s dad just fucked you. Your best friend’s dad just made you cum twice on their kitchen counter.

And they were the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

He doesn’t say anything, just shoves himself back into his pants and fixes his clothes. You pull your panties back into place and shove your dress back down as far as you can while still seated on the counter.

“I’m on the pill.” You say, finally breaking the silence.

“Oh,” he grunts. “That’s good.”

“So we don’t need to worry about that,” you trail off.

The sound of a door squeaking open down the hall causes you to jump off of the counter. Fully pulling your dress back into place, you practically jump away from each other, standing on opposite sides of the island he just defiled you on.

Sarah stumbles into the kitchen, swaying back and forth. Running into one wall and pushing off of it just to run into another one. She stops when she sees both of you.

“I’m not drunk,” she slurs, pointing a finger at Joel. She pulls the handle of the fridge open far harder than needed, grabbing a bottle of water, and slams it closed again.

She turns around on wobbly legs, then stops and glares at him again.

“You weren’t being mean to her were you?” She points a shaky finger towards you.

He smirks and darts his eyes over to yours, his eyes raking back down your body. “No, I was very nice to her.”

You shudder under his gaze.

“Good,” Sarah stumbles over to you, grabbing you in a too-tight hug and starts to drag you down the hall to her room. Her drunken, tear-filled voice travels back to the kitchen “Cause she’s my best friend and no one is allowed to be mean to her or I’LL FUCK THEM UP.”

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Note: this is literally the first thing I have ever written, if you’ve made it this far thank you so much!! (I’m usually not this freakay I promise)

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Teach Me a Lesson, Mr. Miller✨

Bfd/Brat Tamer! Joel Miller x fem! reader

A/N: This has been in the docs for a while, and it’s all just filth. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me get that one sentence just right! This one is dedicated to all the bratty girls who love to be punished, especially @littlevenicebitch69 😈

Summary: Tonight, you planned for beer, loud music, and sloppy sex with one of your hot college classmates. Instead, you get your best friend’s dad putting you in your place.

Rating: Explicit 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6.7k

Tags: Porn with plot, large age gap (reader is 23, Joel is 46), best friend’s dad! Joel, unprotected piv, brat tamer! Joel, fingering, oral (f/m receiving), no use y/n, pre outbreak! au, switching POVs, dirty talk, edging

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The lights flash like disco balls across the silhouette of the glass windows as Joel enters the front door of his house. His eyes blow wide, eyebrows furrowing when he sees the absolute mess in his large two-story house. 

   The wooden floors are caked in spilled beer, bottles litter the vicinity of his college infested living room. The loud music blares through the speakers, bodies cramming the now made dance floor with the leather couches pushed back out of place. Antique lamps get knocked over, footballs get thrown around by some jocks in the kitchen, chips get crunched and crumpled by careless feet over by the rustic coffee table. 

   He can’t see an end to the madness of this unwelcome house party that was obviously thrown without his knowledge, and he’s fucking pissed.

   He scoffs as a tall blonde football player rams into his shoulder, not even muttering an apology, only yelling “Watch out, old man” as be barrels through with an open beer bottle clutched in his firm hand. That makes Joel burn with hot rage, his jaw ticking as he goes searching for Sarah in a sea of college party goers. 

   He was supposed to be away on a contracting gig all weekend, but he unexpectedly got to come home early after the clients changed the dates yet again. He was going to surprise Sarah by taking her out to dinner, but not anymore. Not after he walked into his house that’s now completely trashed by fucked up college kids. 

   He clamps down on his seething tongue and tastes blood run down the back of his throat, pushing himself through a couple making out by the kitchen entrance, cursing under his breath when almost no one even realizes he’s right there in the midst of it all. A rowdy boy shotguns a beer in the hall, all his friends hollering for him to chug. Joel grabs the aluminum can out of his hand and throws it on the ground, crushing it under his leather work boots while he scowls at the piece of shit.

   “Get out of my fuckin’ way,” he growls, pushing the college kid out of the way and into the wall, stomping down the hall back into the living room when he doesn’t see Sarah anywhere around him. 

   He barrels past a sleazy couple making out by the stairwell, hearing them yell back while he huffs and pushes past them. Fucking college kids.

   Turning and looking up the stairs is where he finds you standing there, nursing an alcoholic beverage from a red solo cup. He clenches his jaw, narrows his eyes as he stares at you, Sarah’s best friend, not even comprehending he’s right there basically at your heels. 

   He growls under his breath, hands balled in tight fists as the loud music booms through his eardrums, cursing when he sees another red solo cup fall to the floor, spilling liquid all over his newly polished floors. 

   Goddamn it.

   He assesses you carefully, flicking his eyes over your too tight little black dress, barely covering the globes of your ass. Your low cut neckline basically reveals it all, cleavage spilling from where your perky breasts tease the boys. He takes in your tanned, toned legs, your slutty outfit making all the guys drool over you. And he knows that’s what you fucking want because you love attention.

   If attention is what you’re seeking, then he’s about to smother it.

   He scoffs under his breath; a jealous anger rises deep in his chest. He equally loves and hates how attractive he finds you. Your long legs could make any grown man weak in the knees, and your pouty red lips are so plump that they drive him absolutely wild. He so badly wants to suck that pretty little bottom lip between his teeth so he can finally hear what your pleasurable cries sound like while they ring melodically through his ears.

   He should be mad, furious that you were a part of putting this party together. He knows you were; Sarah wouldn’t do this by herself. Not his little girl. No. She obviously had some convincing from you. He always knew you were a little troublemaker. 

   And you know what happens to little troublemakers? They get taught a lesson. And that’s exactly what he plans to do.

   “Isn’t this party great? You and Sarah really pulled it off. Didn’t think you could. Bravo,” Kylie congratulates you, tipping her half empty beer bottle to your red solo cup, spilling a little of the mixed alcohol over the side of your cup.

   “Yeah, well this wouldn’t have even happened if we thought her dad would show up. Kinda was hesitant to even help throw it, but guess it worked out,” you sigh with relief, a smile painting over your tinted red lips.

   You relax against the wall, taking a deep breath while the drifting music fills your ears, lulling in the alcohol that calms your racing mind. “Good thing he’s not here, right? That’d be a shit show,” you laugh. 

   After a couple of minutes, Kylie hits your arm and almost screams into your ear. “Wait. Oh no. Isn’t that… is that Sarah’s dad?”

   You stand up straight, pushing yourself off the wall frantically. As you look down the narrow staircase and gaze through the parted crowd, that’s when you see him staring up at you with a clenched jaw and fire lighted in narrowed eyes. 

   Oh shit.

   You swallow a generous gulp of the bitter alcohol, biting the tip of your tongue hard as Kylie disappears and leaves you alone with the hungry panther that’ll surely show his claws to you any moment now. He stalks towards you, climbing the stairs and pushing past party goers, his big lips twitching and glowing eyes glaring your way. 

   Fuck. He’s so angry. You’re in big trouble. 

   He points a thick finger accusingly at you, mouthing your name angrily through his gritted teeth. When he reaches you your eyes blow wide, mouth dropping open, standing speechless in your black high heels. Your red solo cup slips out of your hand, and you gulp when the cup lands on Joel’s tan work boots, spilling alcohol all over the worn leather. Shit. 

   He rakes a hand roughly down his salt-and-pepper trimmed beard, muttering curse words under his breath. “Jesus Christ,” he huffs. 

   “Sorry…” you stutter, almost falling backwards before he places a strong hand around your wrist, holding your gaze with his narrowed eyes.

   “So, you and Sarah decided it was alright to throw a fuckin’ party over the weekend I was supposed to be out of town, huh? Thought it was fine to trash my goddamn house?!” His voice is sharp, stern, filled with a deep gravelly tone that almost scares the daylights out of you. You’ve never seen Joel mad before, not like this. You’re in so much trouble.

   “No… I mean, we didn’t mean to…” you mutter quietly.

   “Didn’t mean to my ass. This was planned. Parties don’t jus’ happen. But let me ask you one thing, where is my daughter?” His amber eyes dig into you, a deep scowl forming over his lips while you try to hold your shaky breath. 

   You wouldn’t rat Sarah out, not to her dad. She was busy hooking up with Ryan by the pool, and you did not want her dad knowing that. He would probably take his meaty hands and physically kill the poor guy.

   “I don’t know. Haven’t seen her in a while,” you shrug, pretending like you don’t know a thing.

   He slides his tongue along his bottom teeth, his cold eyes slitting into narrow slots. Oh god, you’re done for. “Upstairs, now!” he yells. He grabs your wrist and drags you upstairs, down the narrow hall, past the occupied bathroom and down to the last room on the right. 

   His bedroom. 

   He throws you inside the room and flips on the lights, slamming the door shut with a bang and clicking the lock into place. No place to escape now. Your wide eyes scan the room, glancing past the corner with his acoustic guitar, taking in the navy blue walls, the collection of stacked albums in the little glass case, eyes flicking over the king-sized bed with clean white sheets and a dark blue blanket thrown neatly on top. 

   You don’t have time to really take in your surroundings because he’s suddenly screaming at you through clenched teeth. “Where is Sarah?” he growls, pacing in front of you with blown out angry eyes, tanned arms crossed over his broad chest.

   You push all your fears aside and decide to turn on the charm, hoping you can flirt your way out of this one. “I dunno, Joel. Where do you think she is?” you giggle, twirling a lock of hair between your fingers, giving him your best innocent look as you bat your eyelashes up at him, trying your hardest to not turn your best friend in. 

   Something snaps hard in him then. He crowds your space, pinning you against the navy colored wall, his meaty hands grazing against your hips roughly. “It’s Mr. Miller to you. Now look, I ain’t repeatin’ myself again. Now where is she?” He snarls, showing his incisors as his nostrils flare, making his chocolate eyes grow into big black holes. Oh god, he’s furious. 

   “Like I said, I don’t know.” You smile, shrugging your shoulders like you don’t have a clue in the world. He obviously knows you’re lying, and he won’t stand for that.

   “I’m not fuckin’ playin’ around, little girl. Tell me where my daughter is or so help me.” He clenches his jaw, a repressed growl held in the back of his throat. 

   “Little girl, huh? You think a twenty-three-year-old is a little girl?” You scoff, pursing your lips annoyed. 

   “Shut up, will ya? Christ. Jus’ tell me where the fuck my daughter is,” he growls, pinning his broad chest against yours.

   You smirk his way, challenging him with an ounce of liquid courage in your system. “Make me.”

   He digs into the sides of your hips with his thick fingers, making you gasp at the nervous butterflies that flit through your stomach. He gnashes his teeth together, dark eyes blowing wide as he ghosts dangerously close to your lips. “Better be careful there, sweetheart. You’re walkin’ on mighty thin ice,” he warns with the flash of black eyes. 

   “Am I?” you challenge, giggling with a gleam in your eye. He curses under his breath, ready to give you just what you deserve. “I see the way you look at me when Sarah’s not around. The way your eyes peel over me, especially when I was wearing my little pink bikini by the pool. Couldn’t stop staring, could you?” you smirk.

   He clenches his teeth together, groaning curse words as he scowls your way, fighting every ounce of control he has left in him, but he has none. “You’re a fuckin’ brat, you know that?” he spits your way, eyes lit like smoldering flames. 

   “Only a brat for you,” you wink.

   “Jesus Christ,” he huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thick fingers until he’s looking back up at you with danger written all over his handsome face. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

   “Mhm,” you nod, grabbing onto the front of his green flannel, your fingers curling ever so slowly over the soft material. “So, what are you gonna do about it, Mr. Miller?” you ask all flirtatiously, pulling him up against your chest while his big hands hover over the soft fabric of your tight dress.

   He carves his hand over the middle of your cleavage, running a calloused finger dangerously close to your breasts, anger still coursing through those dark eyes of his. “How much have you had to drink tonight? You’re actin’ rather bold, little girl.” His index finger grazes the underside of your breasts, and you hold in a surprised gasp.

   “I’ve had a couple sips, but I’m not drunk,” you promise, watching his eyes flick back and forth from your vision to your spilling breasts that scream to be freed from the suffocating dress.

   He assesses your face, scanning your flustered features while he ticks his jaw, analyzing if you’re really drunk or not. Once he’s satisfied with your answer, he lets out a gruff sound from the back of his throat. “Okay then. You’re not drunk, but you’re jus’ choosin’ not to tell me where Sarah is, and you’re givin’ me a damn headache with the way you’re actin’ like a little brat,” he snarls with gritted teeth. “What’s it gonna take to get you to answer me, brat?” 

   The nickname brat makes a wave of slick form in the gusset of your pretty lace and your insides quiver with need. You know exactly what you have to do now. 

   You take your nails and run them slowly through his greying scruff, watching him clench his jaw and growl through his teeth. He grabs your wrist and peels it off his face, pinning it high above your head while he takes a step forward and leans all his weight into you.

   “Don’t think for one fuckin’ moment you have control, sweetheart. I’m in control here. Now, are you gonna tell me where my daughter is or am I gonna have to fuck it out of you?” His eyes blow wide, black pupils taking over your vision as his hardening cock digs into the middle of your thigh. Oh fuck. He’s big.

   You smirk up at him and raise your eyebrows. “Think I can tell you where she is. After you fuck me first, Mr. Miller.”

   He snarls your way and grabs your wrists, pulling you from the wall and throwing you in the direction of his king-sized bed. Before you can even make a move, he's right behind you, spreading your legs and pushing your chest against the soft mattress, slowly hiking your dress above your hips.

   “If you’re gonna act like a brat then I’m gonna fuck you like a brat, fuckin’ tease,” he growls.

   You feel the cool air against your center before you can even comprehend what’s happening. He rips your lace panties in half, shredding the material and spreading you wider while he spits on his large hand and starts dividing your folds, calloused fingers gliding through the slick of your wet pussy. He pushes on your buzzing clit, already overstimulated by his meaty fingers pressing against you, and you can’t help but pull a low groan from your glossy lips.

   “You like that, huh? Dirty little thing, jus’ wait till I get my mouth on you,” he smirks devilish. 

   “Oh, god,” you groan loudly as he curls one thick finger inside your dripping hole, quickly slipping another in to make a delicious burning sensation light your core on fire.

   The room starts spinning as he languidly fucks his fingers in and out, making sharp, deep movements as they scissor inside you over and over again. It’s like he’s kissing the back of your cervix, reaching impossibly deep inside your soul, and his deft fingers are so fucking experienced that you think you see god himself when he curls at just the right spot and presses into the spongy spot that has you seeing twinkling stars before your wide eyes.

   The heel of his palm presses firmly against your clit, and you can’t help the obscene noises that squeak out of you, just like the wet, squelching noises your pussy is making every single time he fucks into you nice and deep. The way he’s finger fucking you is unforgiving and relentless, and you can tell he’s thoroughly pissed that you kept taunting him. He’s trying to teach you a lesson, but it feels so fucking good that maybe you should tease him more often. Maybe he’ll keep being rough with you because you like this more than you should. 

   You buck your hips up, pressing your clit against his rough palm as you reach for that friction you so desperately crave. You’re right on the verge of coming, and you need to feed that burning sensation that almost snaps like a twig inside your core.

   “Greedy fuckin’ brat, ain’t ya? Who said you could come already, huh?” he growls with bared teeth. He releases his drenched fingers from your core, and you feel complete loss when those damn thick fingers stop you from getting your sweet release.

   You whine as he throws you on the silky sheets flat on your back, his large body climbing over yours while he pins his muscular legs against your thighs, spreading you wide to be on full display for him. You gasp and try to break free of his strong hold, but he’s much larger than you are, and his body is as taut as a brick wall. No way you can knock him off.

   You lick your bottom lip in frustration and pout because your clit burns, and you need to get relief before you combust into uncontrollable flames. “Please, Mr. Miller,” you beg, tears pooling in the backs of your glossy eyes.

   “You gonna tell me where Sarah is?” he asks, his large stature toppling over your body as his smoldering eyes incinerate the flames a thousand degrees hotter. 

   “Maybe after you make me come.” You puff your bottom lip out and smile through the burn of your core. He’s not going to budge, so you might as well push him to the edge. 

   “You think a little brat like you deserves to come?” he snarls, his eyes blowing wide as they trail like fire down your writhing body.

   He spots your wet center and smirks, ghosting his fingers right over your bundle of nerves, exactly where you need him most. Your voice box dies as you watch his thick fingers skate across your middle region, and you grow mute as a blinding pleasure of need crashes through your bloodstream.

   “I asked you a question, little brat. I expect an answer,” he growls with clenched teeth.

   “Please,” is all you seem to be able to whisper out as the heel of his palm brushes against your over sensitive clit. “I… I need it,” you whine, feeling the bottomless pit your stomach seems to plummet into.

   “You need it?” he chuckles darkly, dipping his head down between your legs slowly. “This pretty pink pussy wants to come?” he smirks as his lips brush dangerously close to your throbbing mound.

   “Mhm,” you whine, panting excessively when his hot breath fans over your clit, sending your carnal need spiraling while his large hands push your thighs further into the slick white sheets. 

   He lets a string of saliva pool inside his mouth, and then he slowly lets it drip down like a waterfall onto your already drenched pussy. “Can never be too wet, little brat,” he grins wickedly. “But look at you, already soppin’ for me,” he chuckles darkly.

   The tip of his thumb slides against your slit, covering drool and slick up to your puffy mound as he meticulously circles over that sweet spot that makes you pant his name uncontrollably. You buck your hips up, begging for more, but he just settles nicely between your legs and lets his eyes lust over with black pits that threaten to eat you alive.

   “Mr. Miller,” you beg like a desperate bitch in heat. You need him, want him, and it’s so fucked up that you want your best friend’s dad. But he’s just so enticing that you can’t resist, like a prized possession you just can’t lose.

   “Now, let me taste jus’ how wet you are, little brat. Maybe you’ll stop runnin’ that smart alec mouth of yours for a minute,” he smirks cruelly. 

   You take a breath, about to spout off a flirty response to mock him, but then his mouth fuses to your pussy, and there’s suddenly no air left in your lungs. He languidly licks a long stripe up your glistening folds, making a shocked gasp escape your mouth while he peels his carnal eyes up at you and fucking smirks while his tongue slowly envelops your buzzing mound.

   Fuck. He’s even better with his tongue than you imagined. 

   “Ohhh,” you moan breathily, mouth agape with drool nearly sliding down your chin. His tongue makes your pussy clench up over nothing, but then he slips two experienced fingers inside your dripping hole and curls up up up until he hits that spot that makes you lose your fucking mind. 

   Another flick of his long tongue and you’re nearly choking on dry air. You try to speak, but his skillful fingers and lapping tongue make you forget every single thought that’s ever plagued your mind.

   “Look at you, all choked up like you don’t know any words. What’s the matter, little brat? Cat got your tongue?” His menacing words cut through the thick air, and his piercing black eyes flash with mischief when his tongue slides along your puffy clit.

   “Y—yes,” you choke, words getting jumbled on the tip of your tongue the minute he plunges his thick fingers deeper inside you. “Oh my god,” you moan, feeling his thick beard brush against your inner thigh, his tongue dancing impossibly fast around your bundle of nerves. “More,” you beg, “please.”

   Joel’s tongue snaps back in his mouth, and one of his large hands tugs you closer, possessively pressing into your thigh like he fucking owns you. “Beggin’ for me now, s’that right?”

   All you can do is nod in response. “Mhm.”

   He chuckles and shakes his head, still skillfully curling his magical fingers up inside you, almost making your vision turn to black. “You gonna behave if I make you come, pretty little slut?” he asks with a snide smirk, fanning his hot breath along your sticky center, right where he’s ruined you most. 

   “Mhm. I’ll be good, promise,” you squeak out, bucking your hips to try to get his warm mouth back on you, but he only digs deeper into your thigh, right to the point of both pleasure and pain mixed together. 

   “Attagirl,” he smiles wickedly, his dark eyes turning back into big black pits.

   In the next second his mouth is back on you, biting and sucking and teasing his tongue along your wet folds, his curved nose inhaling deeply in your curls above your mound, and then his mouth takes your needy clit and sucks. Hard. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, reveling in the feel of his smooth tongue, moaning with every curl of his thick digits that he gives you, relishing the sick, pleasurable feeling of knowing that you finally teased him enough that he gave in. And it’s honestly better than any fake fantasy that you conjured up in your twisted brain. This right here is something you’d be on your knees for every second you could get Joel fucking Miller alone with you.

   Another lick to your center and your fingers fall and twist around his dark greying tousled locks. That elicits a groan deep from within his throat, and he has you panting even heavier the more he ravishes your sticky center. 

   The coil sharply snaps in your belly, and you feel molten lava run down your spine, slipping down your center, your walls clenching tightly around his calloused fingers. “Fuck,” he groans, his tongue lapping up the spilling slick that runs down your thighs messily. 

   Even coming down from your orgasm, the man still sets your core on fire. “You taste so fuckin’ good, little brat. Like fuckin’ cake on my lips,” he hums, licking off your glistening slick that sticks to his plush lips.

   Once you’re coherent enough to form a full sentence, you breathe out raggedly. “Need you, Joel,” you whine, reaching for his flannel collar until he pushes your hand away.

   “Mr. Miller,” he snaps. “So fuckin’ needy,” he mocks, his tongue darting across his bottom lip while he takes his time pulling the top of your dress down. “You want this cock?” he asks smirking, his big hands toying with your now revealed breasts, pinching the pebbled nipples between his fingers, humming happily when a moan slips off your tongue. 

   “Yes, please,” you beg, hoping he’ll give in to your sweet voice that nearly sings each time his warm body brushes against yours. You’re desperate because now you really want him. You want to know what it’s like to be fucked by Joel Miller in the flesh.

   “You gonna tell me where Sarah is?” He leans in and brushes his soft lips against the shell of your ear, gently biting until pain turns into raw pleasure.

   “Yes,” you say shakily. “After you fuck me.”

   His chocolate brown eyes turn carnal, black pits taking over once again as a deep smirk flicks across that warm mouth of his. “If you wanna be fucked like a slut then so fuckin’ be it,” he growls viciously. “Needy fuckin’ girl.”

   He yanks the leather belt from the loops of his denim jeans, throwing it quickly over the side of the bed as it falls with a clatter onto the floor. He wastes no time and unzips his metal zipper, ripping his jeans down his legs, his black boxer briefs following quickly after. Your eyes widen when you see just how massive he is, his thick cock hard and pressing firmly against his soft tummy, precum spilling messily over his red, swollen tip that’s begging to be stuffed inside you.

   Your jaw drops, and searing pleasure tears through your core the way his cock twitches when he looks down at just how soaked you are again. You’re like a fucking water fountain with no end of flow in sight. You’ve got it so bad for him, but now all you want is to be fucked by this beast of a man.

   “Jesus Christ. Already wet for me again? Little slut wants to be stuffed full of my cock, s’that right? Well, congratulations because I’m about to fuck you until you can’t think about anything else but me splitting you in two,” he growls cunningly.

   His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, and then he’s driving his cock straight through your damp folds. The breath gets knocked from your body the moment he plunges inside you, his large width literally splitting you in two until all you can feel is him penetrating your tight walls. 

   “Fuck,” you moan as his arms come down around your shoulders, caging you in as he drives in harder, bottoming out each time his hips snap up against yours, making you feel so satiated but also starving for more. You love his cock, and you don’t think you’ll ever have anyone else that can measure up to the god of a man he truly is.

   “Yeah, takin’ my cock like such a good girl,” he purrs, slapping his hips over and over as your mind starts to become numb from the thrusts of his massive cock. 

   “M–Mr. M… Miller,” you garble out, eyes rolling into the backs of your lids, reveling in the pleasure of the way he slides in and out of you, hitting that spongy spot that makes your fingers curl into the now dampened sheets. 

   “‘S’right, sweetheart. Say my name. Look at you all cock drunk. Givin’ you jus’ what you deserve, like the little slut you are,” he chuckles darkly as his tongue darts out and licks ravenously at the nape of your neck. “Lettin’ your best friend’s daddy fuck this tight pussy? You’re such a fuckin’ slut,” he chuckles.

   You don’t know why, but the nickname slut makes your insides tremble and has more slick running down his cock with each brush he gives your center. You’re such a bad friend, but you don’t care. You’ve wanted him for so long, and now you have him. You don’t intend to stop now.

   He bends your knees toward you, folding them until you’re in the shape of a pancake, his cock spearing into you at just the right angle that makes your moans louder and desperate as he drives you to your quickening second orgasm of the night. 

   The head of his cock kisses your cervix, drawing shallow breaths from your lungs until the room is enveloped in amber flames. You’re burning for him, and he fucking knows it, too. “Come on, pretty girl. You know you wanna come on my cock,” he taunts, eyes lit with pure mischief that threatens to swallow your cries whole.

   “Yes, fuck. I’m right there… I’m right–” Your voice is cut off by the deep growl that comes from his throat the moment your walls clench tightly around his cock, and you feel those walls inside you starting to crumble like every single thing around you does. 

   “That’s it, little brat. Take it. Spill for me,” he commands with a deep, intoxicating tone that has you coming just seconds after he speaks. You arch your back and moan his name, your ragged breaths scratchy and dry as you come hard on his cock.

   “Oh, yeah. Fuckin’ messy girl, goddamn,” he growls as he fucks you relentlessly through the high. 

   Just when you think he might come too, he pulls out and leaves you crying from the emptiness that makes you hollow from the inside out. You lay there panting, your center ruined from your dripping cum. He doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe; he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you off the bed, pushing you down until you’re settled between his thighs.

   When you look up from under your long lashes, you see his hard cock shiny with your slick, and his eyes are lustful black pits. “Why don’t you be a good girl and open that pretty mouth, sweetheart. Wanna fuck it. Knock some sense into ya,” he growls.

   Your eyes widen and you try to turn, but he grabs the crown of your head and forces your mouth open with the tip of his thumb. “Open. Your. Fucking. Mouth.” It’s not a question but a demand. And god, you willingly do as he says without a fuss.

   Your hands wrap around the base of him obediently, and then your tongue laps at the underside of his cock, tracing the bulging veins that spread like vines down his shaft. Licking across the swollen tip of him, your tongue whisps against his slit, feeling the hot, salty precum envelop your throat as you hum around him. 

   “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, your tongue is so… fuck,” he moans once your lips are fully wrapped around him, taking him deep inside your throat until he’s bottoming out, making you gag. 

   You pull your lips from his cock, catching your breath as a bead of drool connects from your bottom lip to the tip of him, like a spider web spinning its web slowly and maliciously. He looks down at you with a glint in his mischievous eyes, and it’s so smoldering that it catches you on fire. 

   The pad of his thumb traces gently on your bottom lip, and for a moment you see a glimmer of softness in those dark irises. It’s quickly masked the second he grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs hard, pulling you to the edge of his messy cock. “You wanted to be fucked so badly, so let me teach you another lesson, little brat. Wanna shut you up with something else other than my hand.”

   He tugs you forward, and his cock plunges deep into your throat, languidly sliding it in and out, harder and faster with each stroke of his cock. Your eyes water as tears stream down your face, mascara trailing down your lash line with every thrust of his cock. Your cheeks hollow out, but nothing could’ve prepared you for how he humiliates you and ruins you by fucking your mouth repeatedly.

   The chilly air hits the back of your bare ass, and the room fills with obscene gagging and choking noises the more your mouth drowns in him. Drool coats your chin and runs down his thick length, but he doesn’t stop, he just keeps plunging deep into the back of your throat like it’s life or death. 

   “Finally learned how to shut you up,” he teases, ragged breaths growling from his throat the closer he gets to his climax. 

   You can’t talk, only the washed out sounds of drowning on his all-consuming length fill the void. He practically rips your hair out of the base of your skull, tugging forcefully, snapping his hips aggressively until you feel his tip swell and almost combust. A guttural groan leaves his mouth, and with one more snap of his hips he’s finished.

   “Swallow,” he commands. And then he’s spilling his hot seed down your throat. The salty taste makes you moan around him, and a unique taste that can only trademark as his own serenades you, claiming you as his own prized possession.

   He ruts once more inside you and then slowly slides out, collapsing on his back while you fall to the floor with a thud, gasping for breath as you choke on thick air. Your nails dig into the soft carpet, piercing through the thick material as you get a hold of yourself. Carefully tugging your dress up and down over your ass, you push yourself up after a few minutes of trying to decipher all that just went down.

   Joel lays with a large hand shielding his eyes, groaning to himself and mumbling nonsense under his breath. He’s probably regretting this entire night now, but you know you’re not. And you’d do it again in a heartbeat. 

   After a moment of standing there staring, Joel lifts himself up and leans his elbows against his knees, his eyes flicking over your panting form carefully. His stare isn’t kind but condescending, until it melts into something a little softer that you just can’t place your finger on.

   Is he… growing soft on you?

   His eyes flick to yours, his jaw slack and irises golden brown, no more lusting black pits. Something snaps in you, tugging at the pit of your gut that feels a lot like longing, yearning. And you shouldn’t feel this way about your best friend’s forty-six-year-old father, but you do. And nothing could convince you to stay away from him anymore. One taste and you were hooked. 

   You rock on the back of your heels, almost speechless by the aching feeling in your gut that screams from the loss of his hands on your body, his cock twitching inside you, and for a moment you feel sadness that completely shatters your fragile heart. Finding an ounce of courage buried deep in your throat, you fight to find your now meek voice again. “Are we going to make this a habit, Mr. Miller?”

   “Don’t count on it,” he mutters under his breath. “‘S’not a good idea,” he sighs.

   A wave of disappointment comes out of nowhere and just about knocks you on your ass, but you stand tall, your chin high in the air. “Fine. I learned my lesson, Mr. Miller. Guess I’ll go find another man to teach me another,” you mewl, letting the cold chill in your spine settle your agitation long enough to turn away from his clenched jaw and deep eyes that try to glue you to the dark carpet of his room.

   You give him a mocking smile and flip your hair across your shoulder while you sway your hips toward the closed door. Fine, if he doesn’t want you then you’ll just have to find someone else who can fill you as good as Joel did.

   A deep groan falls from his lips, and then you hear him pushing himself off the bed like his life depends on catching you. Joel snatches your waist and spins you around, pinning your back to the wall, just like the position you were in when you first got dragged to this room tonight.

   “I don’t fuckin’ think so,” he spits out, onyx eyes flaring with a hint of jealousy and possession, and then his lips fuse to yours, consuming every fiber of your body as his own.

   His plush mouth molds to yours like clay, his warm breath fanning across your swollen lips, and you swear you’ve never craved a man like this, not when his mouth is feasting on you. Parting your lips pliantly, you allow him access inside, his tongue slotting between your teeth and then dancing against your tongue. He tastes like whiskey and smells like sandpaper. He’s intoxicating.  

   Heat bursts through the room as his tongue invades your mouth, making you dizzy and incredibly needy the moment his hands cup the sides of your face, your fingers scraping gently against the back of his neck. He groans in response, deeping the kiss as he swallows you whole. You don’t hear the blaring music down the hall, you only hear his breath mixing with your own, your moans colliding in sync as a symphony fills the room. 

   The kiss ends moments later, and you’re standing there panting raggedly, trying to cool off from that heated moment. Joel steps back and rakes a hand heavily down his greying beard, his eyes in a far off place as he thinks and thinks about the actions he made in this musky, dark bedroom of his. Licking his bottom lip slowly, his chocolate eyes finally flick up to meet yours again. “Think you should go on now, sweetheart. We had our fun.” His eyes are heavy, his lids closing momentarily as another long sigh fills the void.

   “Can I… can I see you again?” you ask nervously, your heels digging deep into the carpet while you wait with bated breath.

   “‘S’not a good idea,” he warns, his nostrils flaring just the tiniest bit until he relaxes his tight shoulders. 

   “I don’t care,” you whisper.

   He looks at you a beat, his gaze trailing over your body, slowly nodding to the door, your cue to leave. You give him a small smile and make your way out, only stopping in the doorway when the door is inched open and loud music fills the room. You turn and give him some words for him to mewl over. “Ummm… thank you, Mr. Miller. For making me feel alive,” you blush. 

   “Jus’ Joel, sweetheart. Jus’ Joel.”

   “Right…” you smile, knowing you won him over. “Oh, and Sarah’s out back by the pool. See you around, I guess. Joel…” Without giving him a chance to say anything else, you turn down the hall, your chin held high knowing you just charmed Joel fucking Miller.

   He’s everything you ever wanted and everything you couldn’t have. But this wouldn’t be the only time you saw Joel Miller. No, you’d see him again.

   Joel topples onto the bed, letting the scent of your vanilla perfume permeate his ruined sheets. He fucking smells you everywhere, and now he can’t get the sight of your pretty, glistening eyes out of his smothered head. He groans, letting the heel of his palms dig deep into the sockets of his eyes. Maybe if he couldn’t see your shredded panties on the floor he wouldn’t be so wound up about you, but he still is, even with his eyes locked shut

   This is so fucked. You’re his daughter’s best friend, and he’s way too fucking old to be playing games with a twenty-three-year-old. But yet he wants to play, wants to teether you to his body until you can’t move, can’t escape from his strong hold on you. He’s got it so bad that he can’t even think straight. All he sees is you. And he doesn’t think he can stay away for long, so he won't. No. He’ll have you again and when he does, he won’t let you leave so quickly.

   He clenches the sheets in his fists and sighs, letting his eyes close as his body relaxes, tuning out the booming music that floats through his door. He lets your sweet scent carry him off into a light sleep, and the last thing he hears is your beautiful voice float through his ears as you call him Mr. Miller before sleep takes him down.

   And when he dreams, all he sees is how fucking wrecked you looked in between his ruined sheets.

   He’s not done with you. No. Not even close.

[milla-frenchy]

Sunday lunch

889 words | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: You have lunch with guests at Joel’s house. Neither you nor Joel are able to behave

Warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap (reader in her early 20s, Joel in his late 40s), infidelity, twisted relationship, daddy kink, possessiveness, spanking, oral and cum eating (m), piv, creampie

a/n: same “couple”: Owned collection. Can be read alone, but I recommend to read the “Owned” ficlet first Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

masterlist | ao3

You were sitting between your boyfriend and Joel, squeezed, so that you could all fit around a small table. Brushing Joel’s leg with yours regularly, until you couldn't help but slide your hand down to his crotch. Just to be sure he was already hard. Thinking about how good he always fucked you. You thought he might be embarrassed to feel your hand on him, especially with another couple- Joel’s neighbors, facing the three of you. But he grabbed your hand firmly, holding you against his hard cock. No one noticed, and the forbiddenness of this situation soaked your panties a little more. 

Determined to test his limits, you went to the bathroom and removed your panties, keeping them tight in your fist when you came back to the table. His hand grabbed your thigh under the table as soon as you sat down, as if these few minutes away from him and his sight had already been too much. You slipped your wet garment into his hand, forcing him to take a long, slow breath.

When you got up to bring the plates in the kitchen and get the cake, your boyfriend and the neighbors stayed at the table, while Joel stood up. As you opened the fridge, you felt Joel's chest press against your back, making you moan.

“You like teasing me in front of him, huh?” he asked in a low voice, desire mixed with abruptness, his hand grabbing your mound from behind while the other was keeping you pressed against him.

“Is that why your pussy’s so wet? You like being naughty?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered.

“You know how much I wanna fuck you, right now? Right here? Just to remember who you belong to? Who owns you?”

His hard cock was pressed against your ass, his hand now on your waist, and you couldn’t help but moan, watching the door out of the corner of your eye, even though you could still hear the conversation between the neighbors and your boyfriend.

“Come here,” he growled, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the pantry, closing the door behind you both.

He unzipped his jeans, taking out his hard cock, glistening with precum.

“Turn around,” he growled, and without waiting for you to do so, he spun you around, face against the wall. He lifted your skirt and thrust into your cunt in one go, grunting against your ear.

“Joel!” you whined, your walls spread wide abruptly by his thick cock.

“My baby girl is such a tease. Grabbing my cock during lunch, giving me those panties, when my son’s sitting right next to you? Fuckin’ naughty girl.”

He fucked you hard, his forearm pressed against your upper back, chasing his orgasm without seeming to care about yours.

“Did he fuck you this morning?” he asked in the hollow of your ear.

“No… no, he fucked me during the night.”

You didn't know how to interpret the heavy growl that came from his chest. Hornyness? Jealousy? You hoped it was both, and felt a new flow drip from your pussy, soaking his cock.

“Damn, baby girl… You like to make me jealous, huh? Drippin’ like a fucking faucet. You get so wet for him?”

“Just when I think about you, daddy.”

“Christ…”

He spanked your ass twice, making you clench on his shaft.

“That's fuckin’ twisted, baby,” he replied, still thrusting into you, spreading your walls that couldn’t get used to his fat cock, no matter how many times he had fucked you already.

“You think about me when he fucks you? Do you need to think about me to come?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered.

His hot cum spurted out, coating your walls. He was breathing loudly, catching his breath, and pulled away suddenly, spreading your ass cheeks and knelt to lap at your wet hole. Drinking your slick and his own desire, his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose pressed against your tight ring.

“Come on, baby. Come for me.”

You brushed your clit with your finger, twirling it under your skin, and only a few seconds were enough before you came on his tongue. Dizzy with desire. 

He stood up and turned you around, grabbing the back of your neck with his large hand, pressing his tongue against yours. When he pulled away slightly, his dark stare locked with yours. Filled with possessiveness.

“I wanna know, each time he fucks you in my house. I wanna know, cause I wanna fuck you right after, and fill you with my cum. Ya hear me?”

You nodded, your eyes moving from his, to his nose, to his lips still shiny with your arousal.

“Now you're gonna be a good girl, and go sit back at the table. I'm gonna keep these panties. And when I’ll jerk off tonight, your smell in my nose, I’ll think of how I fucked you, here, with him in the next room.”

“Yes, daddy.”

He stepped closer to you, his body pressing against  yours, your back flush with the pantry wall, and slid his hand against your puffy cunt. You flinched when he brushed your clit, before bringing his finger to your mouth. You sucked on it, not taking your eyes off him.

“Good girl,” he said, brushing your cheek. “No cake could ever taste as good as this pussy.”

Same "couple": Owned collection

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[pedgito]

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.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

delicate

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend's father was not what you imagined when you met Joel Miller at a country music festival a year before you even met his daughter in college and became best friends with her. And it should have ended once you found out, but both of you just couldn't keep your hands from each other. Not even when his daughter was sleeping on the couch in the same room.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.7k

Rating: E

Warnings: bfd!Joel, no-outbreak, age gap (twenty-ish year; I imagine reader in her mid to late twenties), fluff, smut (a handjob and some cumplay), secret relationship, lies, fucking while someone else is sleeping in the same room, more implied smut

A/N: i am still not sure what to think about this, so let me know yeah?

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

It was dark outside when your eyes blinked open, the TV still running, the only light source in the room. 

„Didn’t wanna wake you,“ you jumped when you heard his voice from your left, your head almost knocking against his as you looked up at Joel. 

You were spending the holiday weekend with The Millers.

Joel had joined you and Sarah after he got home from work as you were in the middle of a Star Wars marathon. 

Sarah had just broken up with her boyfriend and needed some quality girl time. Something you were never saying no to, much less since you moved into her home town after finishing college. 

You were a couple years older than Sarah, both of you meeting at College when she started and you were in your last year. You had clicked immediately and been inseparable ever since. 

Even once you moved away after finishing college you stayed close, Sarah being excited over you moving closer to her childhood home. 

The last person you ever wanted was to hurt your best friend. 

Which was hypocritical considering you were fucking her father. 

Not that you knew that Joel was her father when you met him on a country music festival in Austin some years back. 

No, you had only found that out when Sarah had invited you to one of her birthdays, almost two years after you met in college. You weren’t sure if you would ever get over the shock you felt when  she introduced Joel as her father. 

You had known that he was a single dad. You just never thought he had a grown up daughter that was studying at the same college that you were.

And that enough should have been reason to stop having sex with him. 

That you had continued seeing each other after the first time had been a miracle to you in the first place, but now? It was like the universe was telling you to stop this nonsense. Both of you had called it quits many many times. First there was the age gap, Joel feeling like he was holding you back from living your life, being almost twenty years older than you.

Then there was the distance. You were studying a four hour flight away and wouldn’t be able to just fly over for a quick(y).

That he was your best friends Dad should have been the biggest hint to stop seeing him. 

But both of you were weak people when it came to each other. So you kept having sex. It had been almost three years now. 

You hummed, stretching your arms as you looked over to the love seat where Sarah was sleeping like the dead, back towards you. You grinned to yourself, seeing the empty glass of wine on the table next to her. 

„She’s out,“ Joel smiled next to you and you nodded before you let your head fall against his shoulder. Closing your eyes you took a deep breath, his scent in your nose. One of his arms came behind your back, pulling you even closer. 

„Missed you lately,“ he said, kissing your head and you hummed. 

„New job has been kicking my ass,“ you sighed. 

„And here I thought you moving to Austin would mean we could spend more time together,“ he said and you smiled. 

When the job offer came and you read that you would have to relocate to Austin you were happy and sad at the same time. Happy because it meant being able to spend more time with Joel, and sad that you wouldn’t see Sarah every day anymore. 

She still had at least two years to go, before she would start her residency to work towards her PhD. Both of which she planned to to in Austin.

„You and me both babe,“ you said and looked up at him. He kissed you softly then, one of his hands tilting your chin up so he could deepen the kiss. 

You had missed him more than you’d like to admit. 

Being in love with your best friends Dad was not something you signed up for, yet here you were. Making out with him while your best friend was sleeping a few feet away from you. 

You really needed to come up with a plan to either tell her or break up with him for good. 

„Should have moved in here,“ he mumbled against your lips and you sighed, sitting yourself up to get closer to him. 

„That would be hard to explain when Sarah comes to visit,“ you whispered as he kissed down your throat. 

„I’d find a way,“ you felt him grin against your skin and you rolled your eyes, before you put one hand on his cheek. He stopped and looked at you. 

„Do we tell her?“ You whispered and he closed his eyes. You were almost sure you ruined the mood when his eyes opened again. 

„Yeah. Yeah we will,“ he said and you heart fluttered in your chest. 

„Yeah?“ You asked. He nodded. 

With a grin you pressed your lips against his, your hand wandering down his chest. 

„When?“ You asked against his lips. His hand was now under your shirt, sliding upwards to your tits. 

„Soon. Don’t wanna sneak around anymore,“ he said, groaning when your hand came down to squeeze his cock through his pants. 

You looked over your shoulder towards Sarah who was still lying with her back towards you, quietly snoring. 

When you looked back at Joel you saw him checking her too, before he looked at you. 

He kissed you again, while you kept rubbing his cock, but soon that wasn’t enough anymore. 

You slowly worked your hand into his pants, Joel hissing when he felt your fingers slipping over his length.

„Baby we can’t….“ He groaned a low fuck as you pulled his cock out of his jeans, already hard as if waiting for you to finally give it some attention.

„We can. If you keep quiet,“ you winked at him before you spit in your hand. Slowly you wrapped your hand around his cock again, slowly pumping the length. 

Joel’s eyes were flying between your face and the love seat where Sarah was still sleeping, none of the wiser to what you were doing with her dad. 

Sometimes you felt guilty for what you were doing with her father. 

Because ever since you met in college you never hid anything from each other. You were lying to your best friend and for what?

Well for one, the best sex you ever had in your life. 

But it was more than that. And a twenty…. No it was seventeen year age gap wasn’t that bad, wasn't it?

Fuck, why were you thinking about that now?

„Gonna put me in your mouth?“ He asked as you slowly kept your hand moving, jerking him off.

You smiled cheekily. 

„I though we couldn’t do that?“ You asked, all innocently. He rolled his eyes. 

„Might as well finish what you started now, Darlin’,“ he hummed and you grinned softly. 

„But maybe I suddenly feel very tired and wanna go to bed?“ You leaned closer to him, lips on his jaw.

„Only if you come to my bed,“ he murmured followed by a low groan as you tightened your fingers around him. 

„We both know if I come into your bed, we both can’t keep quiet,“ you teased and he smirked. 

„I could find way to keep you quiet,“ he rasped, mouth now against your ear as one of his hands squeezed one of your tits and a shiver ran over your body. 

„Could fuck your little mouth with you on your knees in front of me,“ his other hand came to rest over your hand that was jerking him off, guiding your hand a little faster. 

„Could have you sit on my face, eating that wet little pussy while you suck my cock,“ he twitched in your hand and you sighed softly. 

„Or I’ll take you outside in my workshop to fuck you. No ones gonna hear us there,“ he said before he finally kissed you. He moaned against your lips, pumping his length faster. 

„Gonna cum, fuck,“ he groaned and you quickly parted from his lips to lean down, closing your mouth around his tip, his cum filling your mouth seconds later, his hand on the back of your head as you quietly hummed around him. 

„Fuck baby,“ he whispered as you looked up at him, his other hand in his hair, his lips parted as he looked down at you.

„Show me,“ he mouthed and you grinned before you parted your lips, sticking your tongue out that was covered in his cum. 

„Fuck you dirty little girl,“ he shook his head, before he pulled you up and kissed you, his tongue diving into your mouth, tasting his own cum. 

The moment was interrupted as the love seat where Sarah was still sleeping on made a noise as she moved. With wide eyes you jumped from another, Joel pulling the blanket over his lap to hide his cock. 

You both looked towards Sarah, barely breathing before you both realised that she was still sound asleep. 

Looking at each other you both released a long breath before you chuckled. 

He reached under the blanket, tucking himself back into his pants while you got up, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

„How about I meet you in your workshop outside in ten minutes?“ You asked, already walking towards the garden where he had transformed a shed into his workshop. 

He raised one eyebrow. 

„Gonna need more than ten minutes after that,“ he said and you smirked. 

„That’s okay. I have some ideas,“ you winked. He smirked, shaking his head. 

„Tell Sarah I already went to bed,“ you whispered, knowing he would wake her so she could go to bed and he nodded. 

Thankfully Joel had a guest room that you used when you stayed over. At least Sarah thought so.

„See you in ten,“ he whispered back and you turned away from him, walking out of the house. 

[evolnoomym]

I’ll Make You Love Me💋

Bfd!Joel Miller x F!OC Lucky

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: In Joel’s eyes you are an unpleasant person. Yet he has to pretend as if he would not want to get rid of you for Sarah’s sake, she loves you so much you are her best friend. Well Joel also feels terrible for the rather unethical thoughts he has of you.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni !!!!!

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: no y/n, introducing “Lucky”, female oc character, Sarah is 18, Lucky is 21, Joel’s age is not mentioned but he’s at least double Lucky’s age, degradation, humiliation, Dark, Joel is mean, he calls you Bitch/Slut/Junkie, spanking, dub-con, Daddy Kink, Manspreading hehe 😉, pervy!Joel, tears, Joel enjoys her tears, manhandling, hair pulling, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, a tiny fluffy moment, alludes to BJ, Joel can also be nice,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: this is for @toxicanonymity ‘s manspreading olympics. ❤️‍🔥

Shoutout to @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics for the dividers ❤️

Big thank you to @jennaispunk and @joelmillerisapunk for beta reading ❤️‍🔥🌙

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 💋

Songs I listened to while writing:

What You Do by James Gillespie

Bad Girls by M.I.A

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

Salvatore by Lana Del Rey

Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey

Waiting Game by BANKS

Into It by Chase Atlantic

You should feel bad for thinking of him in such a peculiar way. You should be ashamed for even considering him an option. He is totally off limits considering he’s much older, a busy mature man and most importantly Sarah’s Dad. Sarah the sweet girl that has been your Bestfriend for over 2 years.

It excited you in the beginning how much Joel hated your presence in his daughter’s life. He didn’t approve of this friendship ever since Sarah at 16 years old first brought you, her 19 year old friend, over for the first time.

In front of Sarah he tried his hardest to appear polite but you could see right through his facade from the beginning. And one evening when Sarah was already fast asleep you gave Joel a piece of your mind in the kitchen.

“Mister Miller let’s stop these silly games we both know what’s going on…you don’t like me and I couldn’t fucking care less.” You scoff and get off the counter, slowly drawing closer to Joel “You hate me so much but Sarah loves me soooooo much and imagine how upset she’d be to know that her Daddy doesn’t want her to be happy. Wouldn’t that be a shame,huh?” You question with an enticing head tilt.

Now you’re right in front of him, toe to toe with big bad imposing Joel Miller. You can feel the pulling in your lower belly from being so close and most importantly smelling his manly musky scent. You remind yourself that you gotta stay focused if you want to win this game.

You get even closer until your able to place your hands on his warm broad chest sliding them slightly upwards his shoulders. “What the hell r ya doin?” Joel hisses.

You lean up to whisper in his ear “Nothing, just letting you know that I eat guys like you for breakfast, I chew you up and spit you out. You’re not a threat to me, old man.” You pull back and give him a sinister sickly smile.

The wickedness in your tone causes goosebumps to prickle on his flesh.

You feed off of seeing him scared. You enjoy knowing what kinda effect you have on this usually so collected man.

“Goodnight Mister Miller, better start sleeping with one eye open from now on.” You giggle while skipping up the stairs.

That was the start of it all.

Now 2 years later with Sarah just having turned 18, Joel realizes that you two are gonna keep him on his toes even more than already.

The 18th birthday celebration was already a disaster, what Joel assumed would be a relaxed family gathering turned into you crashing the party and taking Sarah out, of course Sarah was excited so how could Joel say no.

Well when you two didn’t return at 12 pm like promised he admittedly got worried, but he wanted to trust Sarah so he tried to stay calm.

At 3 am he hears the screeching tires from some show off guys car and loud drunkish giggling. The princesses have officially arrived back home from their trip, almost 4 hours too late.

When Joel opens the front door he sees you and Sarah practically half draped over your shoulder stubbling up the starirs in sloppy drunk steps. You two are giggling and mumbling at each other in a language Joel does not understand, it certainly can’t be English.

You immediately glock his disgruntled face, the alcohol cursing through your system emboldens you so you haphazardly shove him out of the way. You sigh loudly and obviously annoyed at his antics all while herding Sarah up the stairs.

Joel cannot believe that after dragging Sarah off, taking her to god knows where, letting her drink and god forbid smoke… you still have the audacity to behave so entitled.

You put Sarah in danger and don’t feel an ounce of remorse. Joel hates your guts, in his eyes you are an entitled little brat that desperately needs to be put in her place.

Even though Joel hates you, he at the same time cannot keep his head clear of dirty images of your young and tight body. He thinks about the pool day where you showed up in the tiniest bikini he could think of.

Prancing around all while he had to resist the urge to just tear it off. You knew he was looking and he knew that you enjoyed his eyes flitting all over your enticing figure.

The both of you were tethering on a dangerous line, that could cause big trouble. How would Sarah feel knowing this is happening behind her back.

You constantly antagonize him like that wearing short skirts and tight shirts with no bra because apparently it’s too warm for that. Running into him, pressing your perky tits against his bicep in passing, coincidentally bending over in front of him. Joel was quickly approaching a breaking point, his resolve crumbling more and more with each time that he had to tug at his throbbing length all while thinking about you.

Joel clearly underestimated how much you’d play him and how much better at it you are. At this rate you’ll win this game. He however has a plan, that might even after everything still save him the success.

Joel only has to wait for the right time to attack, catch you off guard and use that to his advantage.

He gets pulled from his thoughts when he hears something that confuses him, you are singing and it sounds beautiful.

Joel creeps up the stairs as quietly as possible to not alert either of you.

The closer he gets to Sarah's door the clearer it becomes. Joel pushes the bedroom door open by only a few inches to get a look at the situation and it makes his heart roar. You sit on the side of the bed we’re Sarah is nicely tucked in, your body facing Joel but your eyes locked on Sarah’s face. Softly singing a lullaby in a language foreign to him while gently stroking over her cheeks, smoothing the hair out of her face, almost like a mother would with her baby. Something Sarah never got to experience in childhood since her mother left so early on.

Joel realizes that despite the rough exterior you put up there’s more to you than just a cold hearted homewrecker, you care for Sarah, you take care of her and watch over her wherever you two run off to. Joel feels gratitude for someone he admittedly doesn’t know a whole lot about.

Joel has seen enough and retreats back downstairs.

When you stumble into the living room to bid your goodbyes Joel looks like he’s deep in thoughts.

So you announce “Sarah is sleeping, make sure she drinks lotssssssss of water when she wakes up and takes more aspirin if needed. I’m out.”

You turn to walk off when Joel gets up “Hey ya sure bout walkin home now? I can drive ya.” He offers but you decline “Nah it’s alright Mr. Miller I can protect myself, I’ve always done it. Besides, why do you suddenly care,huh?“ you sarcastically laugh while slipping out of the house.

When you’ve turned away from him the snarky smile falls right off your face.

Joel actually felt somewhat sorry that night for the way he treated you all those times before.

That lasted until you decided to smoke weed with Sarah in his lil work shed that was situated in the back of his garden.

Joel would’ve realized either way if not by the smells wafting up his nostrils the moment he entered the shed later in the evening, then surely by Sarah’s unstoppable giggling, her slow mumbled speech or by the food flash she got.

When the two of you begged him to let you sleep over he eagerly agreed. Chalk it up to the weed that numbs your brain that this quick reaction didn’t seem suspicious.

Joel knows you will find him, you’ll see the open back door and walk right into his trap. You never sleep the night through when you spend it over at the Millers, he can hear you getting up and wandering around the house. Sarah on the other hand has got to be blessed with an extremely deep sleep.

The thought of overpowering you makes him smile giddily into the darkness of the shed.

As usual you wake up in the middle of the night, ever since being a little child the sleeping became a struggle and nothing works except tiring yourself out.

You get up out of Sarah’s huge plush bed, slip out into the hallway and down the stairs. There you immediately catch the wide open back door leading to the garden. Odd, Mister Miller would never in a million years leave that open.

You walk up to the sliding doors and when you stand in the threshold staring into the dark backyard you see that the shed is left open too.

Out of stupid curiosity you decide to investigate, not the smartest to perhaps walk right into a burglar who has a weapon but you don’t really care.

So you pat the way across the cold grass, it tickles the sole of your bare feet and the fresh midnight breeze actually feels awfully pleasant on your heated skin. Halfway you stop and glance upward at the beautiful full moon shining down on you.

After taking a deep breath you continue onward towards the shed.

When you reach the opening of the shed there’s really nothing you can see or hear. So you step further into it, carefully putting one foot in front of the other.

You feel like someone is watching you but you are unable to pinpoint where it’s coming from. It’s unsettling so you do something considerably stupid “Hello, hello is there anyone? Mister Miller are you in here?” You call out with a shaking voice.

No response.

A light flickering in the center of the room catches you off guard and now you can see him, the one that watched you.

Mr.Miller is sitting on a bar chair behind him is his working table, he leans his back against the edge of the table.

Your eyes immediately go to his slightly sweaty face -the Texas heat is unrelenting even in the middle of the night- he looks gorgeous illuminated by the tiny lamp glowing behind his shoulder on the cupboard. He’s smirking sinisterly at you.

You let your eyes wander over his broad shoulders that are clad in a green flannel. Inevitably your eyes slip down to his wide spread jeans covered thighs, they look so big and muscular.

He catches your staring and drops a hand on his thigh that slowly starts stroking up and down. Making you gulp audibly.

“M..M-..Mister M..Miller what are you doing here?” You stammer out.

“I was waitin for ya to come find me.” He huffs gruffly.

He continues “Close the door behind ya Lucky.”

You feel somewhat hypnotized by his slow calculated words as you, out of pure reflex, reach for the handle behind you.

As you shut the door, effectively trapping yourself with him he murmurs “That’s a good girl. Ya do know how to listen Lucky Girl.”

Hearing Joel call you a good girl in his signature dark molasses like voice had you squeezing your thighs together.

“Hmm ya like that baby, huh?” He inquires

“N..no, that would be fuckin weird.” You try sounding sincere but to no avail Joel has seen through you a long time ago.

“Lucky you are liar, a slut, a junkie..-“

You hiss “What did you just say?” While stepping closer to where he sits.

“Ya heard me right Lucky, you are a fuckin junkie, smoking weed in my shed with Sarah. Are ya outta your mind?” He throws back

“You gotta be kidding me, right? Big Bad Mr Miller is shitting his pants cuz of a bit of weed.” You wheeze.

“That’s enough.” He decides, getting up in one swift imposing movement. Suddenly he’s the one towering over you and he looks pissed.

He’s on you in the blink of an eye threading his hand through your hair grabbing a decent amount by which he pulls you with him.

“Ouch…ouch what the fuck let me go.” You huff while trying to get his hands out of your hair. But he doesn’t appreciate the disobedience and starts pulling even harder, which brings you to tears from the pain.

“Ohhh poor baby Lucky, look at those tears, ya not havin’ fun huh? That’s too bad darlin’ but I don’t care.”

He sits back down on the chair and in one swift motion pulls you over his thighs. Your belly rests on his crotch and your whole world is turned upside down.

“Clearly no one has ever taught ya a lesson, that’s why ya always behave like a bratty bitch.”

His free hand flits to your sleeping shorts and practically tears them off of you. At the ripping sound you yelp.

“Hmm look at that plump ass and those sweet lacy panties…ya always wear this slutty underwear when ya have a sleepover?” All while he’s groping you.

“What the hell are you doing Joel?”

“Aw is it not Mr.Miller anymore? Have we lost our manners lil girl? Or is there a better name for me, hmm?” He inquires.

For some reason you know exactly what he wants to hear but you're not inclined to give in. Yet.

“It’s fine baby ya don’t need to say it now, I’ll make you scream that goddamn name you fucking slut.” He pulls on your hair “Ya hear me bitch.?”

All you manage is a meak nod before he lets go off your face.

You can feel his warm and calloused hand on your cheek squeezing, stroking and poking. Then his hand is gone but not for long. You can’t even react. He's that fast in delivering the first smack to your behind.

“Ya gonna take what i give ya and behave cuz you wanna be a good girl, right? Ya wanna be my good girl,hmm?”

“Y..y-yes I do Mr.Miller.” You say defeated.

“Atta Girl. I think 10 should do it, for now, until ya feel like acting up again..”

He is unrelenting when it comes to punishing you, each time the impact is harder and more unexpected than the previous. You have to bite your lip in order to suppress a moan, even though it hurts it’s incredible. You can feel yourself becoming wet, with each time that his hand collides with your behind more slick gushes out of your pussy. At this point there must be a wet patch visible.

His bulge pressing against your stomach tells you how much this is affecting him too.

“Lucky I know ya try to hide it but I can smell how she’s leaking and if I check I’m sure I’ll find that cunt all sloppy for me, right?”

“Y..y-yes.”

“That’s what i thought.” And with that he continues the assault on your cheeks.

And it may be only ten but he makes them count, the blows are measured and hard. You guess your cheeks must be glowing at this point.

When he finally reaches 10 it feels like hours have passed since you decided to go wander around. He’s massaging your bruised ass. You finally feel like you’re getting a moment of peace but that couldn’t be further from the truth, because Joel threads his hand back into your hair and yanks you to face him.

He’s just staring at you, accessing you and then he kisses you.

It’s rough, teeth clashing, tongues swirling around, his hands urgently grabbing your face, your fingers tangled in his graying curls.

Though the kissing is over before it can escalate too far, Joel is once again pulling you by your hair, this time he’s more gentle, he pulls you off of his knees and pushes you down on them in the space between his spread thighs. You’re at eye level with his crotch now that looks painfully hard.

As you peek up at him through your lashes you muse “Looks like you got a problem, a big problem…Daddy. You want me to help you?” All while innocently tilting your head at him.

He grabs your face roughly “Shut up Lucky and put ya smart mouth to better use.”

“Don’t underestimate me Daddy. I’ll make you love me.” You say while giving him a cheeky wink.

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

Npt: @toxicanonymity @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @joelsdagger @tonysopranosrobe @luxurychristmaspudding @mountainsandmayhem @moonlitbirdie @joelalorian @sawymredfox @thundermartini @ace-turned-confused @almostfoxglove @pedropeach @joelsgreys @joelstummy @ovaryacted @iamasaddie @wintrwinchestr @littlemisspascal

[slowdrawl]

Whiskey and Want |dbf!Joel x f!reader| | 18+ MINORS DNI | {series masterlist}

Chapter 2: Purple Rain | wordcount | 3.2k {TLOU AU, modern-ish, no outbreak, Sarah lives!}

You twist the moth pendant between your fingers, thinking about the gruff ‘Seek the light I think’ from that birthday replaying. He’d texted you after, ‘Moth girl, huh?’ flirty. Now? He’s a brick wall, and you’re clawing at it, desperate for that Joel again. Dad would kill him. Sarah’d hate you. Still, you want it.” | note | This is for the yearners, I promise we will make this old man want us. there WILL be smut and it WILL be filthy. what you think so far???? tell me

Warnings/tags: 18+ only, minors DNI, slow burn, forbidden romance, angst, yearning, sexual tension, mild alcohol use, explicit language ,emotional manipulation (implied), family dynamics, unresolved feelings, no smut (yet) series warnings after the fic. reader uses she/her pronouns and has hair. no major physical descriptions of the reader. no use of y/n but has the nickname Bird, Birdie, etc. reader has a backstory.

Purple Rain. You’ve spent the last hour under interrogation by your dad about your social life—or lack thereof back at school. His way of making small talk, you guess. You’ve been home less than a day and he’s managed to ask about you dating life atleast four times. “What about that guy from your brain class? Didn’t he take you out?” he asks. “Neuroscience, and yes he did. He was nice, but It didn’t go anywhere,” You force a laugh, he catches it. “Why’s that Bird, he too brainy for you, he got shit-for-brains?” He pokes your side as he says it, like hes proud of his awful dad ‘joke’. You want to say, “Dunno Dad, maybe It didnt work out because he wasn’t the 46 year old construction worker I was smiling and kicking my feet about for months… till he fucking left me on read permanently for no damn reason.” Instead, you settle on, “We just didn’t really have much in common outside of school.” You twist the moth pendant between your fingers, thinking about the gruff ‘Seek the light I think’ from that birthday replaying. He’d texted you after, ‘Moth girl, huh?’ flirty. Now? He’s a brick wall, and you’re clawing at it, desperate for that Joel again. Dad would kill him. Sarah’d hate you. Still, you want it. The slam of a car door outside breaks through the conversation, pulling your attention away. You glance toward the window just as Joel steps out of his truck, making his way toward the house, brooding, but sexy as hell.

Oh shit.

Even though you see him coming, the sudden knock at the door still makes you jump. You shoot your dad a questioning look, but he just shrugs.

“Forgot to tell you Joel’s coming over to watch the game. That okay, Birdie?”

You cringe at the nickname. Sure, maybe it was kind of cute, but it still feels juvenile. From what you remember, your mom was the one who started calling you Bird or Birdie—not because your name was Bernadette or Beatrice, but because you were always singing when you were little.

Guess some things never die.

You sigh dramatically, smirking as you push off the couch.

“Do I even have a say in it? Or am I supposed to just close the fuckin’ door in his face?”

Your dad chuckles, but you barely hear it, your heart too loud in your ears.

You take a quick, deep breath, and prepare to put on the unphased act. Then open the door.

Oh fuck.

How is it possible that Joel Miller only gets hotter every time you see him? Like some kind of benjamin button bullshit.

The evening sun is casting a golden glow around him, backlighting him like a damn angel. A tall, dark-haired, scruffy, middle-aged angel. He’s still in the same black shirt and green flannel from earlier, but now it’s unbuttoned, framing his broad chest. His dark jeans fit way too well, and his hair, pushed back slightly to the side—looks just messy enough to make you wonder if he ran his fingers through it before walking up.

And the smell.

Cologne? Aftershave? Whatever it is, it’s woody, warm, and laced with something soft, vetiver, lavender maybe. It’s familiar. Comforting. Intoxicating.

Joel smiles at you, rough edges turned all soft and easy, you hate it.

“Hey, kid. How you been?”

You roll your eyes.

“Not a kid anymore, Joel. I’m twenty-five, remember?”

He huffs a laugh, reaching out to pull you in for a hug, the case of beer in his hand swinging around your back. His arm’s solid around you, but it’s stiff, like he’s scared Dad’s watching. He pulls back too fast, eyes dropping. ‘Hey, kid,’ like you’re still Sarah’s shadow, not... Whatever you are. 

You hear something crinkle, and he’s pulling something out from behind his back.

A bouquet.

Sunflowers.

Your favorite.

Wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, a small piece of cardstock tucked inside reads ‘Welcome home’ in delicate gold script.

This feels like a joke.

The warmth rising in your chest spreads up to your ears, but somehow, your voice comes out smooth instead of shaky.

“Thanks, cowboy. You really shouldn’t have.”

Joel’s gaze tracks over you, something hiding behind his eyes, but before he can say anything, your dad chimes in from the couch.

“I think there’s still room in the fridge,” he says, nodding toward the beers. “Don’t let ‘em get warm.”

Joel chuckles. “Ten-four.” He salutes your dad before glancing back at you.

“You gonna let me in, Tweety? Or just stand there gawking?”

You wince.

Both at the nickname and the realization that you’re still standing in the doorway, gripping the flowers like an idiot. With a glare, you step aside, muttering, “Don’t call me that.”

Joel steps past you, smirking. Then, just loud enough for you to hear—

“Don’t call me cowboy.”

And with a wink, he’s gone, disappearing into the house like he didn’t just turn your insides to liquid. //

The afternoon stretches on while the three of you lounge in the living room, half-watching the game, half-draining beers. By golden hour, your dad and Joel are both half-cut, and you’re not too far behind them.

You haven’t been drinking much lately. It makes you too brave. And maybe a little too emotional.

A few weeks ago, your roommate convinced you to go to some country bar in the city. After two beers and way too many tequila shots, you ended up on the mechanical bull in the center of the place. Because, apparently, defending the great state of Texas’s honor was your problem.

Your dad would have been so disappointed. Not that you got on the bull to begin with, but because you lasted a grand total of five seconds before being violently launched onto the sticky floor below.

The rest of the night? A blur. All you remember is every single person calling you cowgirl in the worst Southern accents until you finally left.

You shake the memory off as the game drags on, Joel and your dad yelling at the TV like they’re personally coaching the team. You sigh, stretching out your legs.

“Do you want me to start on dinner while you guys have some alone time?”

Your dad barely glances over.

“Sure. I cooked some noodles earlier, threw ‘em in the fridge. If you wanna chop up some veggies, make a pasta salad, that’d be great.”

You nod and push yourself off the couch, heading into the kitchen. //

The sun is just beginning to set, streaking the sky in bold sweeps of orange and pink. Sunsets in Vancouver were breathtaking—like mixed-media paintings of industrial buildings and mountain ranges; beaches and city lights. Austin’s sunsets aren’t exactly unlike them, but the sky here feels bigger. Like it stretches forever.

You slip your headphones in and scroll through your iPod, settling on an oldies mix your dad helped you make when you first got it.

Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Pink Floyd, Queen— classics.

As you start chopping, you realize just how good it feels to be in a real kitchen again. Even having a proper sink is a luxury after years of making do with a microwave and a single hot plate. The music and comfort of cooking settle into your bones, and soon you’re half-dancing between washing and peeling vegetables, swaying in time with the rhythm.

When Purple Rain comes on, you close your eyes and start twirling, lost in the sound, convinced you probably look just as good as the dancers on Dancing with the Stars.

Until you slam into something solid.

“Hey— what the fuck?”

Your eyes snap open.

Joel.

His hands are on your waist, steadying you before you can completely wipe out over his feet. You silently gasp as you register how close he is, his face just inches from yours; warm brown eyes lock on you, and they flicker dark for a beat. His breath is hot on your neck. You see him hesitate, he lets go like you’re a livewire, and you’re sent stumbling back until your spine presses into the counter. Heart hammering.

Joel raises his hands, palms out in mock surrender.

“Sorry, kid. Just came in for another beer.”

You exhale, trying to steady yourself, and nod toward the fridge behind you.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you mutter, clutching your chest. “I was having a moment.”

Joel smirks.

“Dancin’ queen, huh? Who knew.”

His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something in his expression—something lingering just beneath the humor. He leans against the counter beside you, eyes still flicking over your face.

“What are you listening to, anyway?” he asks. “Justin Bieber?”

You scoff.

“So close. Actually, it was Prince. You’ve probably heard of him… because you’re old.”

Joel huffs a laugh.

“The hell you listenin’ to Prince for? Sounds like a bullshit lie to me.”

You pull your iPod from your pocket and hold it up, showing him the screen.

Purple Rain.

His eyebrows lift in surprise.

Before you can react, he reaches out and snatches one of your earbuds, popping it into his ear as he shifts even closer, leaning one arm on the counter beside you. You try to ignore the closeness and press the back button on the iPod, restarting the song.

The opening chords drift between you, both of you silently nodding along.

I never wanted to be your weekend lover

I only wanted to be some kind of friend, hey

Baby, I could never steal you from another It’s such a shame our friendship had to end…

Joel hums under his breath, eyes fixed somewhere on the counter.

When the song ends, he pulls the earbud out and hands it back to you with an approving nod.

“Man knew how to write,” he says simply.

You tuck your iPod back into your pocket, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Dad always played that album,” you say, glancing toward the living room. “I think the CD got stuck in the car or something. We listened to it every morning on the way to school for years.”

Joel chuckles.

“That checks out. Your dad’s got taste.”

You nod, smiling to yourself, and for a brief moment, the kitchen is quiet.

Just you.

And Joel.

And something unspoken between you.

A booming voice breaks the quiet moment.

“Don’t burn the place down, Birdie—I’m countin’ on that pasta salad!” His chuckle drifts from the living room, warm but frayed, the kind that used to bounce off Mom’s harmony before it all went quiet.

You glance back, catching him sprawled with a beer, grin fading as he stares at the TV, lost somewhere else.

“No promises, old man,” you mutter, shaking off the pang of those silenced rides, thinking about easier times. The sun’s dipping lower now, streaking the kitchen with hues of pink and orange, casting even more shadows in the house.

Joel’s voice pulls you back in.

“Bet you miss it, huh?”

You tilt your head. “Miss what?”

His gaze flicks toward the window, where the last streaks of sunset paint the sky.

“Mornings like that. Home.”

You exhale, leaning back against the counter.

“Yeah. I do.”

Austin always felt big to you, bigger than you knew what to do with. But back then, in those fifteen-minute car rides, your world was small. Just you, your dad, and the same Prince album playing on repeat.

You were grateful for that. For him. For now, though, you’re just grateful for this. Standing in the kitchen, a little buzzed, stomach full of butterflies for reasons you really shouldn’t be thinking about.

And for Joel.

Standing too close. Smelling too good.

Making home feel like something else entirely.

Joel grabs a bottle opener from the utensil drawer and pops the cap off his beer. Instead of heading back to the living room, he lingers more, settling into a stool at the kitchen island.

You keep your attention on the task at hand, but if you arch your back just a little extra when reaching into the crisper drawer for the dill, well—who could blame you?You can feel his gaze, heavy, tracking your movements as you move around the kitchen.

You focus on dicing vegetables, making small talk until Joel, much like your father earlier, decides it’s his turn to interrogate you.

“So,” he drawls, “you been seein’ any hosers over in Canada?”

You snort at the slang.

“Nope. No hosers for me, cowboy.”

“Good.”

Your knife pauses against the cutting board. You glance up.

Good?

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” you challenge, brows raised. “Good?”

Joel shrugs, like it’s nothing.

“Mind your language, kid.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“Again—grown woman. And you don’t get to chastise me for swearing in my own house, Mr. Miller.”

He exhales sharply, a half-laugh through his nose.

“Touché.” Then, with a teasing smirk, he adds, “You gotta learn French over there too, right?”

You shake your head, biting back a laugh.

Joel takes a slow sip of his beer, watching you.

“Still. Means you ain’t distracted, can keep focused on your psychology.”

You pause for a moment, pretending to consider.

“Mmm, maybe. But on the other hand—” You tap your temple with the tip of your knife, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t seeing people technically count as studying psych?”

Smooth, for real this time!!!.You convince yourself you can see the warmth creeping up his neck, flushing his skin.

“You got me there, little bird,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

Your lips twitch as you glance up at him through your lashes.

“Studying,” he echos, voice light with amusement, but there's something else there too.

Joel pushes back from the island, the stool squeaking against the tile as he stands. Before he heads back to the living room, he pauses—just long enough for you to catch the way his gaze lingers.

Then, casually, almost too casually—

“Glad you’re back home for a while.” He lifts his beer, a subtle toast. “Missed seein’ your pretty face.”

Your breath falters.

Am I hearing shit? Or did he really just say that? You must have some kinda look on your face because he steps back, muttering, “Shouldn’t’ve said that,” like he’s punishing himself.

You shake it off as best you can, grabbing a beer for yourself before heading back into the living room. You flop down beside your dad with a sigh.

“Dinner’s ready. Hurry up. They’re gonna lose whether you’re watching or not.” You jab him lightly with your elbow. “Steak ain’t gonna cook itself, big guy.”

Your dad gives you a flat stare before groaning as he hauls himself off the couch, his old man knees creaking audibly.

“You know, maybe I didn’t miss you that much. It’s barely been half a damn day and I’m already sick of your attitude, darlin’.”

“You love me,” you shoot back with a cheeky grin. //

Dinner is easy. Comfortable.

You sit outside as the sun hides below the horizon, warm hues fading into a deep navy. Your dad mans the grill, you’re chatting with Joel about school, asking him about work. You ask about Sarah even though you already know—probably better than he does. You call her every week, staying up to date on her life, but you still like hearing him talk about her.

And he does.

Joel trips over his words when he talks about how proud he is, and even in the silence between sentences, you can hear it. Feel it. He misses her. It’s sweet, seeing him like this; so unguarded. He worked tirelessly to give her a good life, and it shows. Sarah is a light, and so much of that glow was his doing.

By the time you’re all painfully full, the night settles deep and dark around you. You clear the table, bringing the dishes inside before grabbing yourself another beer. You slip your headphones back in, letting the music hum through you as you turn on the tap.

You don’t hear the back door swing open over the water, but you feel the presence behind you before you see him.

Joel moves into the kitchen, heading for the fridge to grab another drink himself, but instead of leaving, he steps up beside you. Without a word, he reaches past, plucks the dish towel off your shoulder, and starts drying the plates.

It’s nothing.

It’s everything.

Your chest tightens.

The easy silence between you is only cut by the quiet clink of dishes and the occasional rush of water. Until suddenly—

Bzz. Bzz.

Your whole body jumps at the sound. Your phone. No—it’s Joel’s.

The ringtone is sharp, jarring. You recognize it immediately.

Same as your damn alarm clock.

Joel exhales, long and slow, before tugging the phone from his pocket. He answers hesitantly, his voice tight.

“Yeah?”

You watch the change in real time.

The frustration. The slow shift into anger.

He nods, lets out a clipped, “Mhm.” Then a gritted, “Yup.”

Finally, he sighs. Pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll head out now. Thanks for callin’.” He pulls the phone away, muttering, “Not even fuckin’ Friday yet.”

“Tommy?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Tommy’s been a fuckup since he totaled Joel’s truck chasing some girl. Joel bailed him out, then stole her anyway. The grudge never died.

Joel nods, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“Sheriff’s office this time.” He huffs a humorless laugh. “Asked me to pick him up from the bar before they do. How kind of ‘em—fuckin pigs”

You shrug, forcing a fake smile for him.

“On the bright side, at least you don’t have to pay his bail.”

Joel just shakes his head, already heading for the back door. You rinse off the last dish and follow after him. By the time you make it outside, he’s tossing his empties into a grocery bag, apologizing to your dad for cutting the night short.

“Next time, I swear I’m gonna let him figure it out the hard way,” Joel mutters. “I swear to god, Kev.”

Your dad laughs, unimpressed. “You and I both know that’s a fuckin’ lie. You’ll be cleanin’ up his messes ‘til the day you die.” Then, softer, “You’re a good brother, Joel.”

Joel huffs. “Yeah. Probably too good.” He shakes his head, and looks down at the ground. “Anyway—I’m sorry to run out on ya so soon.”

“It’s no big deal, man. Go get your shithead little brother before he causes a bigger problem for you.” Your dad gestures vaguely toward the gate, beer in hand.

You follow Joel to the fence, pushing it open for him. He steps through, then turns back to you —hesitating just for a second.

He pulls you in for a hug, reaching around your waist with a touch that feels impossibly soft for such a rough guy, it feels different than the welcome he gave you earlier. He gives a tight squeeze and kisses you on the head, your knees nearly buckle. “See you soon, Bird,”

Joel pulls away, nods once, and disappears into the night. You stand there, syrup-brained, and swear he won’t stay a stranger. You’ll drag that old Joel out, make him feel it too. series warnings!!! fluff, smut, angst,unprotected p-in-v (please wrap it up), f/m masturbation, fingering, large but legal age-gap (joel is in 40's reader is in mid 20's), size kink?, choking, pervy!obsessive!joel, pervy!mean!Tommy, possessive/rough sex, praise, sex on the phone, drinking/smoking, strong language, sneakin around, lowkey obsessive and reckless Joel, blackmail, competency kink, risky sex, overstimulation, a tiny bit of coercion, dirty talk, oops its a creampie, brief mentions of grief and implied suicide, Tommy is a jerk in this one, guilt and betrayal, bar-fights. chapters will have specific warnings. @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @brittmb115

[toxicanonymity]

Best friends dad Joel x innocent reader

Reader is sleeping over at her best friends house. Best friend ditches her for a party/bf which leaves her alone with Joel. Joel makes fun of her innocence and pressures her into drinking/having sex with him

Night Talks

2.8k words / best friend's dad!Joel x innocent!f!reader

NSFW 18+ / joel master list

gif from @serenaxpedroo , ask from @subby-bottom

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ big girthy legal age gap, it's 2008 so 41-19 lmao, first time marijuana use, light drinking, pressure, dubious consent, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, loss of virginity, depraved praise. reader can sit in joel's lap. haphazard editing.

-

"I know your parents are strict as hell, but you’re an adult." 

You feel uncool enough without Mr. Miller acting like you're such a square.  He takes “Cool Dad”  to the extreme.  Yeah, you're an adult, but you don't really party and you didn't feel like going. Yeah, your parents are strict. That's why you regret going to a commuter college. It's also why you didn't go home when Sarah left.  You didn't realize her hot dad was awake when you came down in your skimpy pajamas to get a drink of water.  Now your eyes are drifting to his biceps as you have this weird talk in the kitchen. But if you're looking at his biceps, at least you're not looking at his PJ pants. 

You feel defensive even though everything he's saying is true.  "I just don't like to party," you say. "Plus, they smoke weed."

He squints at you judgmentally.  "So? . . . What, you’ve never tried it?" 

You're not sure how to respond to that.  Mr. Miller is older and hot.  His judgment carries a lot of weight because of it.  You've seen him after a construction job before, sweating, arms bulging.  

"Damn, you're brainwashed as hell. . . ." He looks like he feels sorry for you.  "C'mon, let's have a beer. I've at least seen you with one of those before." It's flattering that he would notice, even though you probably didn’t finish it.

"I should probably go home"

He rolls his eyes and tilts his head as though to say "really?” Then he gets two beers out of the fridge and starts to open them.  “Let’s skip to the part where you take a sip and relax."

"Mr. Mill-"

"Oh. . ." he waves his hand dismissively. "Mr. Miller sounds creepy.  You can just call me daddy."  Your heart jumps to your throat.  Mr. Miller is creepy. 

Then he laughs. "Damn, the look on your face.  Nah, call me Joel.  Look," he hands you a Coors Light.  “Practically water."

You accept the beer. He takes a sip of his IPA, then teases, "We can watch somethin’ pg-13 if ya want.”

-

You watch Saturday Night Fever on DVD.  You think it's just gonna be dancing, but it's far saucier. He glances at you, watching your reaction to the most intense scenes.  You're embarrassed but try to ignore him.  After Joel goes to get a second beer, you’re startled when he sits down next to you on the sofa instead of back in the recliner where he was.  Your skittishness must show.  

“Relax,” he says and squeezes your knee.  His demeanor has changed. He has a whole different voice.    “I don’t bite. . .‘less you’re into it.  Can’t imagine a good girl like you though . . . Fuckin’ Miss America over here.”

Your cheeks burn.  “I’m not that good,” you protest. You're not sure why. 

“Yeah? Prove it,” he says and begins lightly stroking circles around your knee.  The challenge quickens your heart rate and sends a rush of blood to your loins before he continues, “let’s get high.” 

You're unsure if you're relieved or disappointed that's what he meant.  You resist, but he offers, “you don’t even have to smoke it.”

“What, brownies?”

“No, baby.”  The pet name makes you tingle. He reaches into the end table drawer and retrieves a small glass pipe and a lighter.  

“C’mere, I'll show ya.”  His free hand grabs yours and he leads you to the tiny bathroom.  You can't help but notice the way his soft pants hug his ass.  

-

He shuts the door behind you, then closes the toilet lid and sits down while you awkwardly stand there with your arms crossed.  You lean against the 6” of available wall space.  It’s a very, very small bathroom.   

His biceps stretch his t-shirt as he holds the pipe to his mouth and flicks the lighter on.  He moves the lighter around the weed in small circles and the glow spreads as he sucks the air through the pipe.  He closes his eyes and a sensual expression loads on his face as he inhales.  It’s a face of pleasure. His brow furrows and his eyes open.  He slowly exhales, politely pouting and pointing his lips away from you, but keeping his eyes in your direction,  shamelessly scanning your body. 

As the stench of the weed creeps into your nostrils, you reflexively reach for the exhaust fan switch on the wall and he says, “Nope. Can’t hotbox with the fan on.  That’s the whole point."

-

When the second-hand smoke starts to hit you, you feel a little woozy.  Good, but woozy.  You start to sit on the counter and he stops you.  “Sink’s not braced yet.”  

He pats his lap.  There’s nowhere else to sit unless you leave the bathroom, and you don’t want to.  So you sit on Mr. Miller's lap.  His pants are soft and his legs are warm.  You’re hesitant to put all your weight on him until he says, “Relax, I can handle it,” and he does have meaty thighs.  He strokes your bare thigh, making you wet and self conscious that you hadn’t shaved in a week.  

He looks around at the smoke in the bathroom.  “How’s it feel?” 

“Um, good,” you say.  He looks back and forth between your eyes and smiles.  

"Good, good. . ." 

You look at each other for what feels like a few minutes, playing chicken about who will finally talk next.  Then he asks, "ready for the next step?”

“Nah. . . I don't wanna smoke.”

“Don’t have to.  Just breathe out when I squeeze once."  He squeezes your thigh once to demonstrate.  "And breathe in when I squeeze twice."  He demonstrates again.  "And keep your mouth open."

You don't say anything, trying to envision what he's going to do. 

"You’re gonna love it.”

“Okay,” you say.  Why not? You’re feeling pretty relaxed. 

“Gotta face me though,” he says.  He nudges you to stand up, then he urges you back into his lap, but straddling him.  

You hesitate and resist a little. 

“Only live once baby”

-

You go ahead and straddle him, but you're very aware of how short, loose, and flowy your shorts are. You can feel the air between your legs. He takes a deep, horny breath as you settle in and his eyes darken.  

"God, you're hot," he mutters.  That's the moment you're certain he wants to fuck you.  You shyly look down and away.  

"I'm serious," he says.  

Then he spares you the need to respond, leaning back to make room between you for his muscular arms before he brings the pipe to his mouth.  He sucks in and holds the air in his mouth then turns and puts the pipe on the back of the toilet behind him.  When he faces you again, his large hands slide up both your thighs.  His chest expands as he inhales the smoke in his mouth, then he holds it in and squeezes your thighs once.  

You breathe out. He leans in, cradles your head  with one hand and opens his mouth, not exhaling yet, smoke curling between his lips, then squeezes your thigh twice.  As you begin to inhale, he blows the smoke right into your mouth. And he keeps his face close to yours as he watches you turn your head and exhale. 

“Attagirl,” he says and your heart flutters. 

Every part of you wants to kiss him right now, and it looks like he wants that, too.  He leans in a little.  

But the smoke burns, and you turn your head and cough. Joel pats then rubs your back.  "Damn, I shoulda gone slower."   When you stop coughing, your watery eyes meet his, and he cracks a smirk.  You're super high and very wet. He looks entranced by you. 

"Guess you're right," he murmurs.

"Hmm?"

"You're not that good a girl. . ." You feel conflicted hearing these words, until his hands return to your legs and he says, "Only one thing I like more than a bad girl." His hands slide all the way up your thighs and his eyes follow his hand.   His thumb easily nudges its way inside the inseam of your shorts - it happens so fast - and before you know it he lightly strokes the apex of your folds.  Your hips tilt into his touch and he strokes lower, feeling how wet you are.  With his other thumb he pulls the shorts to the side to see your pussy.  He inhales deeply through the nose, looking you in the eyes.  "Only thing better than a bad girl?  A good girl gone bad." 

His hands find your ass and pull you into his crotch where the stiffness of his warm length takes your breath away, and you softly gasp. 

“Yeahhh,” he says.  “You like that?”  

Yeah, you do, and he clearly knows you do.  But you’re super high and too embarrassed to say it.  

“Bet you're a virgin, too.”  

“I-"

“You don’t have to say it,” he whispers, to your relief.  Then he leans forward and his facial hair brushes your cheek as he brings his mouth to your ear and says, "Cause I know you don't wanna be." 

He leans back, pulling you into him harder and his arousal swells into you, making your walls twitch and your clit throb.

He wets his lips then wraps one arm around you and cradles your head with the other hand.  His lips press into yours and a wave of arousal ripples through your body.  Your nipples harden.  His tongue brushes yours and he grinds into you with a soft grunt into your mouth. You've never been more turned on. 

Your lips tear away from his as you literally swoon. He easily catches you as you slump to the side. 

"Whooaa, okay."  He holds you in one arm and reaches to open the door.  "Let's get you some fresh air."

-

He puts a hoodie of his on you and you go outside for a few minutes.  You're embarrassed.

"Sorry," you say, unsure what you're sorry for. 

"No, no, don't be sorry baby.  That was all me." He puts his arms loosely around you and you rest your head on him.  "Couldn't think straight cause you're so goddamn hot." 

You smile shyly into his shirt.  "I think I'm okay now."

"Good." He strokes the crown of your head with his whole palm. 

You ask, "Think Sarah will be back soon?"

"Doubt it.  Usually sneaks back in around dawn. Wanna watch another movie?"

"Um, sure."

"We can do whatever we want." 

-

It’s not long into the movie before things heat up again.  You’re at the end of the sofa and he has his arm around you.  He caresses you with that hand, starting with your arm, then your shoulder, then your collar bone.  Out of the corner of your eye, he adjusts himself.  “Lord almighty,” he says under his breath.  

“Why dontcha bring those pretty legs up here?”

“I haven’t shaved in-”

“Think I care?"  he urges your legs into his lap, pulls them all the way into his crotch, and presses them down on his solid wood with a soft grunt.  Your eyes go wide and you take a deep breath.  He stops pretending to watch the movie and eases your legs down flat on the sofa, scooting himself out from under them, getting on his side. 

"C'mere," he growls. He watches his fingers trail up your leg all the way to your breast as he lays down facing you, slightly on top of you.  His gaze remains fixed there as he slides his hand up your thin pajama shirt and palms a breast.  Your mouth falls open and he grinds his hard package against your hip.  Then he lifts your top up to see both your tits. "God damn," he says.  

He slides his hand into your shorts, brings his face to yours, and starts kissing you again, hard and slow, his tongue claiming your mouth, your lips softly accepting every movement of his while he gropes your dripping seam desperately and moans into your mouth.  His movements intensify, becoming more urgent as he gets between your legs.  Sweat is blotching his shirt.  He slides an arm under yours and a whiff of his armpit opens your legs. 

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes as your hips tilt for him.  He urgently tugs down your shorts, breathing heavily.  He expertly fingers you, making your toes curl.  He inserts one, then two thick digits.  Three is a stretch but not too bad.  “perfect,” he murmurs.  He fingers you for a minute, both of you getting hornier. 

-

Then he frees himself from his waistband and his thick arousal falls heavily against your slickened clit, sending a bolt of need to your chest. He drags it down and nestles his tip at your entrance, then his large hand lifts your thigh and you wrap your leg around him. He looks up at your face, reads your eyes and says in a low rumble, "yeah, you're ready for it. . . couldn't be more ready, could ya?" Maybe he’s right.  Maybe. 

He grunts as he begins to push into your tight, wet hole and you gasp at the stretch of his tip.  "C'mon now, you can do it baby."  He inhales deeply, then pushes further.  "Yeahh." It hurts, but the pain is nothing compared to the incredible feeling of being filled. He's pretty slow and gentle, but never asks if you're okay.  He pushes harder until about half his shaft is sheathed by your warmth.  "Perfect fuckin' pussy" he breathes. "Tight as hell. Wet 'n ready for this cock."

"C'mon, baby."  He retreats halfway before plunging to the hilt, parting your insides and bottoming out with a shudder.  There's an unfamiliar, primal look on his face that stirs something deep inside you.  He stays there, all the way inside for a moment as though trying not to come instantly at the feeling of you wrapped around him.  He pulls back again, all but the tip, then pushes forward, a little smoother but still a squeeze.  He does it again and groans "Yeeahh," he bottoms out.  His face makes him look like he's in pain.  

-

He lowers his chest over yours and the way he looks at you makes you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.  He slowly backs out and fills you up again, saying "Good, that's it baby" as you tilt your hips.  He kisses you and his cock slowly recedes then pushes in again.  Your ample slick allows him to slowly pump in and out of you even with you being so tight.  

He kisses you aggressively, then plants his lips on your neck as he buries his length in you again and again.

Slower, then at a moderate pace. He kisses you.  He looks at you. "Hot as hell, baby." He gropes a breast.  Then his lips graze your throat as he fucks you. 

You’re looking over his shoulder with his face in your neck.  Never imagined this would happen tonight.  Or here, or with him, but he feels incredible.     He fills you up harder, then a little faster.  The way his back stretches his tight t-shirt is a vision.

“God damn." Your whole body is rocking with this power of his cock slamming into you.  "You’re a natural, baby." He thrusts hard with a grunt.  "Already takin’ my cock this good?” He brings his filthy mouth back to yours and keeps filling you with his thick cock. "Ohh yeah. . . " His breathing changes.  "wanna come in this tight pussy so fuckin bad" 

"You can't, I don't-"

It looks like it kills him. He mutters, "fuck," holds his breath,  then pulls out, "Ahhh," he releases the breath with a loud sigh and spills his cum on your bare stomach.  His anguished face, his cock in his hand, his cum shooting out onto your stomach, it’s the hottest scene.  You feel it searing into your mind.  

-

He tucks himself away, lies down at your side again, and starts fingering you, circling your clit.  “Look even hotter with my cum all over ya.” He’s making you feel things you thought only a toy could do, not even your own hand.   “C’mon, baby, come for me.”  It doesn’t take long before your back arches and you’re seeing stars, jolting into his big, veiny hand, his dark eyes watching you in a trance.  

As your orgasm fades, a smirk spreads across his face.  “Damn, didn’t think it’d be that easy.” 

The blood drains from your face. 

“No, no, makin’ you come, baby.  Makin’ you come.”

He cups your face reassuringly.  “You’re real damn hot, you know that? Fuck.”

-

Thank you so much for reading and interacting 🖤

This Joel evolves into the menace that is night walks!Joel.

I have a NEW dads' best friend!Joel x virgin!Reader series Left in Lincoln.

Night Walks : @tehweeana @blackvelveteen1339 @cutesyscreenname @ele-meno-p

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda

please lmk if i missed you!

[dilf-docs]

Hand To Heart (I'm Gonna Stay Faithful)

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: a pregnancy scare makes you realize just how deep you are in this.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., pregnancy scare, fingering (WE GET IT U LIKE IT), bit of praise kink, humilliation kink, breeding kink (they're stupid and insane acc), dacryphilia, sex thru the looking glass (there's a mirror in reader's dorm), ANGST in capital, they're starting to catch the feels™ ur honor, hurt/comfort, plot thiccens, this people are clearly NOT in a good headspace btw idk we listen read and don't judge.

word count: 4,757 words

side note: everyone calling this joel nasty but thirsting after him too? was going to hold a trial over my citizens but yk... what the hell, sure! i too want nasty bfd!joel to ruin me: he can be my baby daddy who doesn't pay for child support of our 4 kids and we'd make way to bed for our 5th LET'S GO also spam time! but i also happen to write in wattpad, and got a pedro pascal social media fic going on :) it's on spanish tho, but if u speak the language and would like to tune in, u can read it here

part: prev | masterlist | next

It's a regular Tuesday when his phone rings at ten in the morning.

"Dad"

Joel gets up from his desk in a brash move, immediately picking up his daughter's worried tone. Tommy bursts inside, telling him to calm down, but all Joel can hear is the anxious beat in his chest.

"What's it, babygirl? You okay?" his throat tightens. "Talk to me"

There's silence before she answers, as if she's unsure to continue.

"It's not me" he feels his muscles relaxing, but then Sarah drops the bomb. "It's y/n"

Joel's heart beats with a different type of worry.

"What's wrong with her?" voice firm but emotionless.

It's almost summer again, and he's still seeing you. In a way, you had carved a space for yourself in his cold heart, so naturally, fear settles in. He'd never admit this things out loud, though.

"I don't know, dad" his daughter starts to rush the words out, panic evident on her voice. "She has locked herself in the bathroom and won't stop crying. I-I didn't know who else to call"

"Don't worry" but it sounds like he's trying to convince himself. "M' comin'. S'anyone else in there?"

There's a pause on the line before she answers.

"No"

He thinks of you. He'd seen you cry before, of course, but it'd been over silly childish stuff, like getting sent to bed early or not getting what you wanted for Christmas.

He thinks of you. Images of your pretty face, etched in pain, make his stomach drop. It isn't fair: your face was one destined to be happy for eternity, your smile so contagious Joel would sometimes find himself surrendering to your juvenile joy, his crow feet a little more notorious since you entered his life and carved your space on it by force; a light in the dark.

He just couldn't bear to see a mirror of his dullness on your face. It wasn't right.

"Stay put. I'll be there"

He tries not to think about your eyes drained of life. He tries not to think he's the cause. And then, he hangs.

As soon as Joel enters your dorm, your perfume is up his nostrils, providing him with a sense of relief he didn't know he needed. It was comforting and familiar, words that used to be hollow now carrying a knowing feeling that stung right on his chest.

"Dad" Sarah calls out, going for a hug. Joel embraces his daughter tightly while caressing her hair. "I'm so glad that you're here. I didn't know what to do"

"Breath in, babygirl. S'alright" he looks at your door, closed. Broken sobs can be heard, and his wounded heart feels like a heavy burden on his chest.

"My class starts in ten" Sarah speaks against the fabric of his flannel, "but I just couldn't leave her like this"

His daughter has a good heart. At least one of them did, anyway.

"Go to your class" he's commanding before he can fully process what he said.

Sarah breaks the hug, looking at him with a look he can't quite place.

"What? But, dad-" she tries to protest, concerned for your wellbeing.

"I'll take care of it. Always do, haven't I?" he sees her hesitation, and afraid of where her doubts would take her, Joel adds a small joke in there. "Y'know those classes ain't free, kid. Go ahead"

"Okay" she gives up. "Just... tell me if anything happens, yes?"

"F'course. Trust me"

"I trust you"

He still remembers when Sarah's kindergarten teacher handed him that drawing: Joel was wearing a cape, and she said his little girl had told everyone in class his dad was a superhero because there was nothing he couldn't do. That same admiration and faith is there in her eyes, even as the small naive kid slips from his fingers and turns into the woman that stands before him. He's not the devil, but the worst father in the world, and that is pretty much the same to him.

When Sarah is out of your dorm, he's trapped inside the small room with your heavy crying on the other side of the door. He looks at the small place, thinking about all the times he's sneaked inside during the night, hiding like a criminal as you wait for him behind the door full of scrapped stickers, ready to capture his lips with an eagerness that gnaws his chest.

Now it's just him and your sobs, his terrified reflection displayed in the mirror in front of your bed, mockingly staring back.

What are you doing? it questions, and Joel, always ready to answer, has suddenly lost the ability to speak.

Forcing himself out of such a pitiful state, he approaches the door, knocking softly.

"Sarah" your hoarse voice speaks up, and just then, he realizes how much he loves hearing your voice, no matter how it sounds. "Don't you have classes to go to? Leave me, please. I promise I'm good, I-"

Joel hears your distress, so he interrupts what looks like the start of a nervous rambling wreck. Huh, doesn't he know you so well?

"Sarah's gone" a beat, "It's me, Joel"

As if you wouldn't recognize that deep voice even if you were deaf.

There's silence before the door flings open, surprising Joel, who takes a step back, barely noticeable to the rest, but obvious to you, who has spent hours admiring him and all his small movements, he who you could draw by memory and built in your head as real as he who was standing before you, his eyes circling with a whirlwind of emotions you can't quite place, yet make your heart race.

Joel takes in the sight of you, deciding it's unfair how good you look, despite your disheveled hair, run mascara and red-rimmed eyes: you are still the prettiest sight he's ever seen, and now he doesn't know what scares him the most.

"You're wearing my shirt" he says out loud his latest discovery. It's all he manages to say: not an are you okay? nor an what's wrong?

No, Joel just happens to be very stupid(ly in love).

"Sarah didn't see me" you hug the fabric that makes your frame look smaller, or maybe it's your tired composture that makes it seem that way, avoiding Joel from enjoying the way his shirt looks on you. "If that's what you wanted to know. Been inside there for hours, already was when she came by"

The fact that you rather explain and assure him of his supposed possible worries instead of sharing your own, makes his stomach tie on a knot. Were you too kind or perhaps selfless? Maybe just stupid(ly in love).

Joel grunts, and you're not sure if it's his way of dissmissing your comment (maybe he thinks you're lying), chastising you in a shallow manner or the fact that you're poorly trying to avoid the elephant in the room. Maybe he thinks you're still a foolish careless child who can't comprehend the weight of whatever it is you're doing by being with your bestfriend's dad behind everyone's back.

"Tell me" he gets closer to you, fingers on your cheeks, but they don't dig the skin, instead, his roughness hiding a surprising tenderness to them. "What happened, y/n?"

The rawness in his voice takes you by surprise. Joel Miller, who seemed a man impossible to waver, now stood before you, wrapped in a gloom that left you at loss for words, something akin to hope planting it's seed on your heart.

"Tell me" he demands, yet his pupils move as unsteady as your heart. There's no power for command in his voice, only what you could allude to helplessness.

Was it because you were putting up walls like he did?

Was it because the consequences of being with you are starting to dawn upon him?

Whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What's wrong?" he's pushing for an answer softly, such a contrasting image to that of him in bed. "Please, talk to me"

Please.

The words slip past his trembling lips, defenses crumbling.

Joel Miller hasn't pleaded since Sarah's mother packed her bags and walked out of their shared home. He promised himself he would never be vulnerable again, never at the feet of a loved one, beggin to be seen.

To be heard. To not be hurt. To be loved.

But here you were, red eyes blown wide at a confession spoken through other words.

Please.

Your chest feels heavy, breath constricted.

"Joel..." you utter his name like a prayer. As something to believe in; something to hold.

He rushes to your side, strong arms caging around you as your labored cries fill the tiny room.

"S'alright" he whispers against your ear, burying his face on your shaking shoulder. "M' right'ere, doll"

Your hold turns more desperate, practically clinging as if your life depended on it.

"Take your time, y/n" your name so soft, you feel like crying more. "I ain't goin' anywhere"

"Promise me" you whimper, holding tightly.

"I won't go" he assures. There it is, the same unwavering strength you know. It's for you, he thinks.

"Joel" you call out again, tone terrified. "I think I'm pregnant"

It takes him at least a minute to speak. Even to breathe.

"...What?"

He feels your erratic pulse against his chest.

"Joel. Look at me"

He doesn't feel your heartbeat anymore. Just then he realizes he's backed down, embrace letting go of yours. Joel takes in your eyes, shimmering with new tears and fears.

"Joel?"

"I'm here" his voice sounds like it belongs to someone else, and the reminder like it's for himself.

"I know" your small voice speaks up, "but, just- please, look at me"

Joel holds your gaze, and it's like your air supply as been cut.

We don't want this.

"Are you sure?" Joel asks cautiously, as if you were a small animal he's afraid to scare.

"No" you breath in. "I bought the test, but I couldn't take it... I was, for the very first time in my life, scared. But there's always a first, isn't it? That's when Sarah found me"

There's always a first. You weren't afraid when he pounced you next to his sleeping daughter, neither when you didn't stop coming and he let you in everytime, and absolutely not when he obscenely ate you out while Sarah was on the phone. No, you were brave―brave enough to stand defiant when his conflicting gaze pierced through you, daring you to be the first to leave this mess and forget about him. But you were brave because you stayed, despite it all.

That had to mean something, right?

"You said you wouldn't leave me" it comes out in a shaky breath; a threat. Your voice seethes with a quiet rage. "You promised, Joel"

Like the word promise was a dagger twisting on his insides, not a sacred oath.

So he forces himself to be that hero Sarah still thinks he is. After all, he promised her he's going to solve this, didn't he?

"I did" he runs a hand through his hair. "Got the test with you?" You slowly nod. "Take it, then. I'll wait here"

You don't move from your spot, chest still moving uneven under your labored breaths.

"When you come out, I'll promise I'll still be here"

He can't promise you more. The world? It's what you deserve but not what he can give; Joel can only give so much.

"Okay" your tone is clipped, and that's all you say before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

The room feels smaller than it is, the small plastic stick feeling heavier in your fingers than it actually is. You hear the clock's tick, Joel's frantic pace and your own irrational beat. It feels like a bomb: ready to explode and destroy everything within it's range.

Time drags like a cigarette, walls closing over your shaking pale frame. Your phone has a timer going on, yet for some reason, it feels an end to your beginning. You hug your body, wishing it was Joel's arms doing so.

But you saw it: fear, hesitation. It was on his eyes, auburn cracking like wood under fire. He was weak, and so were you. All of this... it starts to loose it's meaning. What started as a summer fling now falls upon you like a second skin you can't quite wash off, and it's suffocating as much as the enclosed space where a stupid line could change the rest of your life forever.

Joel outside isn't doing much better. He's aware his walking probably set you on edge, so now he's sat at the small bed that dips under his weight. He takes one deep breath, two―then looses count.

How could he be so careless? For a brief moment, why did he let himself believe it could be?

For God's sake: you were his daughter's friend. He had seen you and Sarah play on his house, laughing on his porch, gossiping on her bedroom. Growing up.

He wanted you, a desire so consuming it sometimes kept him up at night, thoughts confusing with something else. Probably fear, probably acceptance.

Joel is aware you changed his life. You, with your wild spirit and obnoxious laugh. You whom he couldn't tear his gaze away when standing in the same room, a magnetic force making the world around you drawn to you and that dangerous allure you had that made it impossible to resist you. To forget you. To live without you.

He feels dirty. A monster. A wolf with an insatiable hunger, sinking his canine teeth on your soft flesh. He'd drink your blood, to always keep a part of you with him; to be one. Like a lamb sent to the slaughter: but you wanted it. You had placed your head inside his jaw; trusting. As if knowing he could devour you, yet he'd never hurt you. Daring, almost.

Show me you can love me. Take a bite. Take me as yours. Mark me. Ruin me for anyone else. My blood, it belongs to you. This isn't a sacrifice―this is love.

When you exit the bathroom, hand holding the pregnancy test, it's all clear to him.

For a moment even, Joel forgets there's a world outside and sees a small baby: they have your smile, your eyes―and nothing of him, because you're the sun of his moon, the light of his darkness, and that baby is a mirror of you and your beauty. You and your warmth, devoid of his cold and far from where his filth can taint it. They have to look like you, because you are the most beautiful person in the world, and suddenly, the idea one more of you is possible, makes it feel like just you isn't enough.

"It's negative"

For the second time in the day, Joel is rendered speechless. His gaze is trained on the floor, lost in thought. Besides his lack of an answer, whatever he's thinking makes you nervous.

"Joel, are you okay?" you call out.

He swallows the lump on his throat, pose awkward before he moves next to your bed.

"M' fine, baby. C'mere" he sits over it again, motioning with his hand the empty spot next to him. Joel's embrace is warm, like it shields you from the cold harsh truth.

"Are you upset?" you ask over the comfortable silence, the underlying tension stretching like a rubber band.

"No" his answer comes quick, "but I won't lie to ya', doll. Thought for a sec and ol' man like me could give a pretty girl like yourself a baby as beautiful as their mamma"

A treacherous pink dusts your cheeks. Had you lost all your common sense? Seconds ago, your life hung by a fragile thread, and now all your body can think is to go for the same risk again. Fuck it.

"Did you? I thought you were too busy freaking out"

Joel lets out a nervous laugh. "M' a busy man, doll. Learned how to do two things at once"

A fire settles in your stomach when his touch lingers over your soft flat belly, longing.

"Hmm, I see" your fingers move from his hold to his collarbone, as they play with the buttons he hasn't wore.

"Y/n" he warns. You stop for a moment, not because you're unsure, but because when you look up, his eyes don't shine with that glint of danger and hunger that gives you the thrills. Instead, they look at you with a fondness he doesn't seem to even realize―the one that gives you the hope of it all.

"I want this" you speak up, voice confident.

"I don't think that's a good idea, doll. What'ya need is-"

"You" your face gets close to his, cutting his words and breath. Joel's adam's apple bobs, your throbbing pussy going through a Pavlovian response, such action an indicator he's surrendered to you, mouth watering at just the thought. "You said you could do two things at the same time, right? The comfort me in the only way you know"

There's hesitation on his eyes, and while you think it's because he's still hung up on the idea this isn't what you need, Joel's mind is stuck in the fact you think he can only warm your bed but not your heart. It's stupid, indeed. It can't affect him that much. Ashamed, he cuts the space hanging between your lips and traps them in a heated kiss.

"Hmh, Joel" your voice barely audible as Joel's fingers grip on your hair, his sleazy tongue sliding it's way into your mouth until you can feel it in your teeth. "Please..."

He chuckles at your neediness. "Please, what?"

"Please" you whimper, feeling your back heat with droplets of sweat under Joel's shirt, the sticky feeling akin to that starting to pool in between your thighs. "Please, make me feel good"

Joel smiles adoringly, moving your body until your legs are up his shoulders. Sure, his knees covered by his dirty worn-out jeans are ruining your fresh laundry, and his joints may crack here and there, but you don't pay mind to this little things: all you care is how he's kissing your bare thighs, his salt and pepper stubble tickling skin that feels more sensitive than ever; burning almost.

"Gon' touch 'tis pretty pussy 'til you forget y'r name, doll" he breathes out. "Will ya' let me?"

You nod eagerly as he helps you get out of your panties, throwing them somewhere around the room. You smack his arm playfully at his rough manners, but then he's pressing his lips with wet ticklish kisses on your legs and laughter bubbles at the tingles it's causing.

"S-stop, Joel!" you beg, legs shaking. Your giggles are contagious, and soon the foreign feeling lifts the corners of his scowl into a smile, a concept becoming more familiar with time.

"I ain't stopping" his fingers then graze your clit, tauntingly. You whine, as Joel doesn't let up on your clit, his calloused digits coated in your arousal. "'Tis what you asked for, baby. So 'm gonna make you feel good. So good until you can't speak nothin' that ain't my name"

The threat feels like a delicious promise, so you tell him you'll behave.

"I wanna try somethin', doll. Wait" you whine at the loss of his fingers inside of you, and then he's moving your body until he's against the wall and you're on the border of the bed. With your eyes, you follow his line of view. "So needy, ain't ya'? Cockhungry slut. Jus' scared the shit out of me and now you want me inside?" he tsks. "Sick fella"

"Joel..." you breath out, desire pooling into your orbs.

"Wanna see you, doll" you see your reflection in the mirror as Joel lowers his head to whisper on your ear, eliciting goosebumps on your skin. "Want you to see yourself, too. How you'll be beggin' for me"

His middle and ring finger dip between your folds as he continues the minstrations, fingers pumping in and out as they graze your moist cunt. They start to go in circles, and even if it's not exactly next to your bed, you can see the mirror begin to fog, whines condensed in the heavy air.

His shirt clings uncomfortably to your body, but you don't care. In a way, he feels even closer to you, as if he was an extension of yourself.

Joel's body radiates heat on it's own, making the room's temperature skyrocket.

You lean your head back onto the mattress, moaning.

"Need ya' to use that pretty mouth of y'rs, doll. Say it" his fingers linger on the dip of your hips, waiting for an answer with a smirk and daring manner. "Say what ya' want; that's if you can"

It takes you a while to speak up, the slippery sound of Joel's coated fingers the only sound to be heard on your dorm.

"I... I need" you whine through labored pants, "I need you, Joel"

I need you, Joel. It's in the heat of the moment, really, yet on that very instant, he makes a silent vow that hangs unspoken in the air.

"Good girl" he bites your earlobe, making a chill run down your spine.

His fingers fuck into you just how you like it: swirling to explore your inner tight walls.

"Fuck. Love how your pussy takes me, doll. 'S mine, isn't it? Say it, say who this pussy belongs to. Who's the only man allowed to have it"

You close your eyes, but the answer comes clear. "You, Joel. Just you"

You whine, feeling him go harder in a new-found confidence. Your nails dig on his biceps, but he doesn't flich, still busy burying his fingers inside your clit as his mouth continues spilling filthy shit you barely can comprehend, mind starting to go numb.

Normally, Joel would make you cum on his fingers, always making sure to lick it after, claiming it was bad manners to leave to waste. But today, the clock ticking in your wall, he knows he must hurry.

"Eager, eh?" you taunt back, seeing how quickly he's pulling down his underwear, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance.

Your dripping cunt welcomes his cock, tip teasing your entrance.

"Don't" he seethes.

"Don't?" you laugh. "Don't what, laugh?"

His fingers grab your jaw tightly, forcing you to look behind you.

"Don't stop lookin', doll"

Joel slips the tip of his cock into you, his hands grabbing your waist to steady you. He looks at you through the mirror, seeing your dazed eyes, waiting as you bite your lip.

"That's it, good girl" he praises, purring against your ear. You see his face go down and lick the side of your neck before sinking his teeth in it. "Gonna reward you for'at"

Your mouth falls agape when he fully pushes his cock inside of you, burying himself to the limit in the first thrust. You moan, stretch wet pussy trying to adjust to his girth. He groans, his hips moving back and forth with yours, to meet his thrusts.

"R-right there" you whimper, feeling eyes starting to water. It had been a long day, and with his cock buried deep inside you, you can't think of anything else: just him―like this, for the rest of your life; you don't need more. "Fuck, don't stop"

His thumb rubs across your cheekbone, capturing a tear that had slipped past your foggy mind in a brittle moment of vulnerability, brown eyes flickering with something else. It could be.

We could be.

"Fuck, you cryin' over this cock, doll? What'a fuckin' slut" he laughs incredulously, but there's a hidden fondness to it. "S' that how good 'm makin' you feel?"

You can only moan, his dick harder now, his infatuation with your fucked-out state evident in the way his movements become more hectic.

"Can't even speak? What'a dirty minx inside 'tis sexy little body"

"Mhm" you blabber, tears running hot down your cheeks, landing on the mattress in fat droplets, noticeable through the reflection even. Joel stares back at your puffy eyes, devotion pouring at your glossy gaze, coated in a faint red tint, more pronounced from your earlier cries. Fuck. Never did he think your lambent eyes and sniffle sounds could turn him on this much. Something about him being the cause of it has his head spinning.

"New rule" he growls, "you keep those pretty red eyes lookin' at me when you cum"

You whimper at his words, the powerful aura they carry pushing your orgasm closer to the edge. You feel your tight folds clenching around his cock, hands holding to his back while your nails dig in it. You feel yourself approaching your release, multiple tears escaping down your cheekbone. In an obscene gesture, it isn't his thumb but his tongue what removes the wet stream from your body, feeling the salty drops on his tastebuds.

You were already so worked up, it was a matter of seconds before you could cum at any moment. Your walls clench around his length, and before you can process, Joel pulls your body up, caging your tits until they're pressed against his soft chest. You face the white paint of your wall, and Joel can see your back in the mirror as he's still buried inside of you. You gasp at the change in position, all of the sudden, a painfull delicious sensation flooding your senses.

"You're gonna cum, aren't ya', doll?" Joel's asking, hot breath nestled in your neck.

"Hmh" you barely manage to blurt as he fucks into you harder, your arms clutching onto him. You were being so loud now that you were sure you'd get at least one noise complain, hoping it stays there; if they found out not only had you been fucking, but with a fourty year old man who happpened to be the father of your bestfriend, you'd probably get expelled. "So close..."

"You know?" he whispers, voice fragile over the sound of your pants and worked up breaths. "I was scared, ealier. M' sorry you had to see that" your body trembles, making you close your eyes. "But I need ya' to know, for'a moment, I did think about having a kid with you"

Your forehead drips with sweat, mixing with the sodium of your tears.

"Maybe in 'nother life, huh?"

Your heart feels like it's about to burst when he sloppily kisses you, as to prevent any words come out of your mouth―humilliating or full of regret, avoiding the heart ache of a rejection. Joel, for a moment, lets his heart wander off to territories he shouldn't, thinking of things he should leave to be. Joel digs his hole deeper, but he doesn't care: he just wants to be the best grave in your cementery.

"Maybe" you answer, but it sounds like a possibility, the promise of a foolish mind betraying the guarded hidden hope.

"Fuck, Joel" you bury your face against his soft pecs, your orgasm crashing over you. Your whine comes our rather loud, trying to drown the sound against his body. He doesn't stop holding you on his arms, firm; you'd probably fallen if he didn't.

"Wait for me, doll. 'M close"

"Please" you plead, kissing his jaw. "Need you. Want to feel you, Joel"

Not daddy, but his name. I want you. I need you. Want to feel you; for you to fill me. He groans, rhythm sloppy as he crashes his lips into yours. he should stop, especially after today's events, but God, his traitorous head is filled with images of you, belly round with his child, one carved to be the spitting image of you.

Do it.

You moan inside his mouth when you feel him finish inside of you, thick, your fingers running through his dark greying hair damp with sweat.

"M' right here" he says his words from earlier, and you feel yourself hugging him to keep his body next to yours even as he pulls out.

"I know" you hum, arms around his neck. "Thank you for coming"

"What of both?"

You let out a laugh.

"Jesus, Joel" but your tone is devoid of malice, adquiring that layer to it, just like his own. There's a shift in the air, and if you felt it before, now you know there's no point of return. "You sure are something else"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs / dts: @ann-gell; ángel de mi corazón, tkm mucho, gracias por llegar a mi vida ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐