tags: 18+ (sexual content), dbf joel!miller x afab!reader, road trip, age gap (46/22) I came up with this idea while listening to hundred dollar bill by Lana del Rey, Sarah is 19 in this, readers fathers name is mark (idk i was just trying to think of a basic name lmao), one use of y/n, lake house vacation, Joel is guilt ridden, “we can’t do this” vibes, readers mother is not mentioned, reader is mentioned wearing denim shorts and a gingham shirt but her looks is not physically described, situationship, groping, blowjob, spit, handjob, clit stimululation and cum eating.
summary: you and your dad’s bestfriend have been fooling around for months now and after weeks of joel pushing you away, trying to be the responsible one, a road trip and shared car makes things hard to resist.
3.5k
Joel doesn’t know how he had gotten himself into this particular situation with you.
He’d watched you grow up, had you and your family over for cookouts, spent Christmas’s with you, hosted sleepovers for you and Sarah. You and your father were like a found family for him.
And he could relate to your father, y’know? Being a single parent with a daughter. That was why they’d clicked so well when Joel moved into your neighbourhood with a baby Sarah — twenty seven years old and completely unprepared for raising a baby by himself.
But now? Now you were an adult — twenty-two years old at that. And he’d never thought about you in a sexual way before. Never perved on you or even viewed you in any other way than being Sarah’s childhood best friend and his buddies daughter. The girl he’d offer a ride to here and there when her dad wasn’t home, who he’d walk back the few doors down to her own home in the neighbourhood after one too many with Sarah — despite being furious with Sarah for even thinking about drinking underage.
But that changed the night you’d made a move on him while tipsy.
Your father had asked him to pick you up from a bar after getting delayed in traffic coming home from visiting your grandparents. One thing led to another when you stumbled into the car, giggly and glassy eyed, and you kissed him.
And there was just something about that kiss.
Maybe it was just him being completely touch starved for the past six months — going through quite the dry spell in the bedroom department — but he’d kissed you back. Your hand eventually found his cock, palming him through his jeans and it was then in that moment that any responsibility eddied from his brain.
He’d taken you right then and there. In his lap, in his car, in the parking lot of that fucking bar.
And that one time thing? It became sneaking into his house at night, quickies in the bathroom of whatever neighbourhood event you were at, copping a feel in the new hot tub your Dad installed in your backyard.
And he felt fucking awful for it. Disgusting. Perverted and filthy. So he’d kept his distance from you. He’d linger around your father or Tommy at events, he’d make excuses about how you couldn’t come over during the night.
He did everything he could to avoid seeing you. Not because he didn’t like you, not because he didn’t want you, but because he knew that if he was around you, he wouldn’t be able to deny what you needed from him.
And that terrified him.
The sweltering heat of the Texan sun burned down onto your skin, the denim shorts and gingham shirt you were wearing showing off enough skin that the temperature was just about bearable.
You assisted Sarah in dragging her insanely heavy suitcase out into the front yard of Joel’s home. Your dad had brought the car around to Joel’s place to make things easier when it came to lugging bags into the cars.
Your aunt Kelly was tagging along this year to the anual lake house trip with Joel and Sarah. Normally, it was just you and your dad from your family, but this year, after your aunts divorce, she insisted on needing to get the hell away from that damn house, considering her Ex Husband still hadn’t gathered enough money to move out and the sound of his snoring — even from the guest bedroom — was as insufferable as it had been when they were married.
Which then meant that Tommy — Joel’s younger brother — suspiciously opted to come along too after consistently refusing to for the past month. Tommy had actually known your aunt previous to Joel meeting your father, from highschool. And ever since Joel became friends with your dad, Tommy used that as his excuse to try and sway your aunt in his direction. Shameless flirt.
So it was made clear last night that Tommy would be riding in your car with your Dad and Kelly, therefore meaning you would have to suffer through a whole two hours of listening to Tommy sweet talk and Kelly pretending not to notice or care.
“Jesus, what did you pack in this thing? We’re going for a week, Sarah. Not a year.” You huff, dragging the handle of the case while she pushed it along with her foot. Of course, she’d had to choose to pack her shit in a suitcase without wheels on the bottom.
Sarah laughs breathlessly, kicking the luggage rather harshly for emphasis, nearly sending you toppling over. “Girl, this is only the second case. Wait until you feel the weight of the third.” She grins.
You groan, dropping the handle and laying your hands on your knees. Jesus, you needed to build up your strength. But you couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of you from the complete ridiculousness of the situation.
Just as you and Sarah start pull yourselves together, a strong hand comes down on your waist, gently straightening you and moving you out of the way. “Give me that, baby girl,” Joel says to Sarah, the sound of his voice making your toes curl beneath your sneakers. You’d heard him call you that nickname multiple times by now.
You step out of the older man’s way, allowing yourself to subtly take in the sight of him in front of you. He was wearing a pair of dark navy jeans, the ones he was clad in quite frequently, and a simple denim shirt, rolled up to his forearms to accommodate the warm weather.
Really and truly, with the things you and Joel had been getting up to recently, going on the lake house trip for a week, sleeping in the same house, your room just a door down from his, was not convenient in the slightest.
Joel had been keeping his distance from you, and as much as he tried to act as if it was down to being busy, or responsible, you knew he was just guilt ridden about the whole situation.
You knew he felt bad. Shit, so did you. But it wasn’t like what you were doing was necessarily wrong. Yeah, maybe it was a little unconventional, but you were both two adults who could make their own decisions.
You watched as Sarah gave her dad a grateful smile as he bent over and hauled the suitcase off the ground with a grunt, walking over toward his car to load it into the trunk.
But Sarah’s voice cut him off.
“Can you actually put it in Mark’s car? Tommy’s going with him and Kelly and I really wanna watch the show. Plus, I’d be doing y/n a favour.” Sarah turned to you, a playful smile on her face, completely oblivious to the shit going on between her childhood bestfriend and her father. “You don’t mind going with Dad, do you?”
You saw Joel’s back stiffen as he paused at the trunk of his own car, before quickly pulling himself together and picking up the case to take it to your father’s open trunk. You felt yourself freeze for a moment before clearing your throat with a playful grin of your own, turning towards Joel. “Of course I don’t.
“Put your seatbelt on, m’not gonna tell you again.” Joel orders, one hand on the wheel while the other reaches over to grab your belt, waiting for you to take it off him. His eyes remained fixed on the road, but you could feel how tense he was with having to make contact with your body.
You were only ten minutes into the drive to the lake house and you’d already succeeded on getting on Joel’s last nerve. First, it was you insisting on playing One Direction full blast on the radio, then it was the continuous bubbles you were blowing, forcing him to roll down the window and practically beg you to throw out your gum, and now it was this.
You knew that the constant reprimands were just his own way of keeping from any awkward silences, not that you would let there be any. You were quite content to yap his little ear off the entire ride, push his buttons until he finally decided to give in.
You huff, straightening in your seat and shoving the belt into the buckle. “I was just taking it off to tie my shoe. Relax, Dad.” You say with a grin, knowing just how wrong that nickname would sound considering what the two of you had done together.
“Please, don’t call me that. Just.. fuck. Just sit still, would ya? All this goddamn fidgeting is gettin’ on my nerves, kid.” He grits, his gaze still unfaltering from the road ahead.
“Hmm, sure it does,” you croon, picking up the can of Cherry Coke to your lips and taking a long sip, exhaling dramatically at the taste. You cross your leg casually over the other, keeping your eyes ahead. “Y’know, with the way you’ve been acting toward me recently, some would call that avoiding.” You say condescendingly.
Joel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as if a headache had formed there. Yet, not that he’d show it, he felt a pang of guilt hit him in the chest for how he’d been acting. You didn’t sound particularly upset, if anything, your voice was light, teasing.
“Things have just been.. busy.” The lie was smooth, he thought. But the tone in which he said it in was slightly warning. Don’t push it.
You seemed to get the message and hummed thoughtfully. But then, a dramatic gasp left your lips, one that if he didn’t know better, sounded rehearsed.
You may or may not have purposely spilled a bit of the Pepsi down your shirt. You were sly like that. You’d spotted a dark grey t-shirt tossed on the back seat behind you, and a dirty, slightly cheesy, little plan had formed in your head. One that would hopefully make Joel crack.
“Fuck!” You exclaim, setting your drink into the cup holder and beginning to rub at the wet, dark patch of your red, gingham shirt. Joel turned his head, temporarily removing his eyes from the road at the sudden outburst and recognised the issue. You moan in irritation, peeling the fabric forward so the spillage didn’t seep through onto your skin. “This is gonna stain.”
“Jesus,” Joel mutters under his breath, focusing his attention back onto driving.
You glare sidelong at him. “Shut up, Joel. I really like this shirt.” You frown, looking down at the brown stain already appearing. “Do you have a spare shirt I can change into? I don’t really wanna have to get out.” You ask conveniently.
Joel freezes for a second, the thought of you in his shirt.. fuck. He’d seen you in them countless times now. He almost always allowed you to wear them after one of your little sessions together. But slowly he turns back to you, clearing his throat to attempt to act natural. “Should be one in the backseat.” He nods behind the two of you.
Bingo.
You immediately twist in your seat and remove your seatbelt again, leaning into the back to grab the shirt and reaching down to slowly lift your top up. Joel stops you with a hand on top of yours.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he blurts as you turn to him in confusion. “Shouldn’t you wait until I find somewhere to pull over? Or.. I don’t know, do it in the back?” He suggests awkwardly, glancing between you and the road.
You tilt your head to the side, a “are you kidding me?” expression on your face. You pick up his large hand and set it back onto his lap, resuming your movements and beginning to tug the top up, until it exposed your stomach. “Oh, come on. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before. And I’m literally just taking off my shirt.”
True. He couldn’t argue with that. So he didn’t. He just swallows thickly and tried to keep his eyes on the road. Tried to think of anything other than you removing your shirt, exposing your white.. fuck… your white, lacy bra. He could see it from the corner of his eye, he wondered if that white lace matched whatever your were wearing downst —
No. He couldn’t think like that. And fuck, now he was getting hard.
Not right now, he begged his cock internally. It would be a matter of seconds until you had that t-shirt on. Until you would turn to him and see a tent beginning to grow in his pants. Jesus, he felt pathetic. Like a fucking teenager unable to control himself.
He was so ashamed. Of how far he’d let this go between the two of you. He should’ve been the bigger person, should’ve told you that he —
“Are you hard?”
Your voice cuts through his thoughts, making him snap his head toward you, his cheeks already reddening. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, unable to reach down and adjust himself in his pants without seeming too obvious. You were now dressed in his shirt, the fabric loose around your arms.
Your mouth was twisted in a shit-eating grin and he already knew that he was done for.
“Just.. stop.” He mutters, clenching his jaw enough to hurt. He forces his eyes away from you, praying that the ground would just come and swallow him up. How was he even supposed to respond to this? Get himself out of it?
“Oh my god, you are,” you giggle, twisting in your seat to face him and propping your feet up onto your seat. “Fuck, Joel.” You say, your voice dropping an octave.
The sound of your tone getting quieter, a little more intimate, had him throbbing in his pants. He’s heard this tone of voice more than once by now. The sound of your moans and soft, sweet whimpers and pleas when he fucked you started to float around his head. The way you’d babble, trying to keep that menacing, teasing demeanour but failing miserably every single time.
“Was a nice little trick ya did there.” he gritted, and you could have swore the car picked up the speed. Not enough to be dangerous, but to show just how you were affecting him.
You turned your head to the side, your smile only growing. “Mhm? It worked, didn’t it?”
He didn’t respond to that particular question, just took a deep breath and adjusted in his seat once again, bringing a hand that wasn’t on the wheel to run through his slightly greying hair. “We cant do this.” He said firmly, but it seemed like it took everything within him to.
You bit down on your lip, slowly, ever so slowly, bringing your hand down onto his lap. Your trail your finger tips in a circle on his inner thigh. Testing. Teasing. “Can’t do what?” You ask innocently, as your hand finally lands on the spot between his legs. Palming his cock through his jeans. That thick, heavy, beautiful cock.
You manoeuvred yourself on the seat until you were sitting on your knees, and then, you leaned across the centre panel, until you were eye level with his lap, resting your cheek there as you slowly began to undo his belt.
Joel moans softly, uncontrollably. He couldn’t stop the sound from coming out when you worked on his belt with record time, tossing it aside and starting on his buttons. “This. It’s not — fuck.”
And then his cock was out of jeans and in your hand. His tip was flushed a shade darker than usual, beading with a pearl of pre-cum. “It’s wrong.” He finished with a sigh, both hands now gripping the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
You held back the urge to smile when you dipped your tongue out and lapped up the pre-jack there, humming at the salty flavour. “Why is it wrong?” You question him again, your voice oozing with false innocence. You ran your thumb along his shaft, looking up at him and waiting for an answer.
“You know why. Stop playing games.” He grits, his face pleading.
“That didn’t stop you before,” you muse thoughtfully, starting to consistently kitten lick the underside of his head. “Didn’t stop you from fucking me that night. Right here, in this car.”
Joel felt his reason snap. Fuck it then. Fuck it. You wanted to play this game? Then fine. He’d give you what you wanted. But then it was over.
Famous last words.
His hand drops down to tangle in your hair, forcing your parted mouth to take in his cock. He couldn’t take it anymore. The teasing. It was rich coming from him considering he’d given you the same shit numerous times. Waiting until you’d beg. Plead. You make a surprised sound at the action but welcome his tip into your mouth, sucking hard enough to make Joel hiss, his grip tightening.
“Fuck, Angel. Is this what you wanted? Wanted to rile me up? Test my fuckin’ patience?” He demands, scratching softly at your scalp. He hears you hum a sound of confirmation around him and the vibrations send him dangerously close to closing his eyes and taking his focus off the road completely.
At least he’d die a happy man.
You hollow your cheeks, the suction of your hot, wet mouth making a soft moan fall from Joel’s lips. You feel yourself grow needy between your legs, the spot at the apex of your thighs swelling and pulsing in time with your thundering heartbeat. You clench your thighs together in an attempt to diffuse some of the tension there.
You feel your pulse thrum in your head, the adrenaline and wrongness of the situation only heightening your arousal and, seemingly, Joel’s. The thought of someone passing in their car, seeing you here with your head between your fathers best friends thighs sent a thrill down your spine.
You pull off his cock and gasp for a breath, a string of spit connecting you to Joel. Joel peeks down at you for longer than was probably considered safe, the sight of you drooling and messy for him, fucking your mouth on his dick.. fuck it made his balls tighten.
Joel’s hand comes down to cup your chin, tilting your face up for your eyes to meet his. “Gonna get me in trouble, you know that?” He asks a little rhetorically. His voice is husky, a little guttural.
You give him a wrecked look in return, rutting your hips downward to emphasise what you wanted from him. “Please.” You say softly, your eyes doing the talking.
Immediately, Joel understands what it is that you want and makes quick work on using his free hand to unbutton your denim shorts, shoving his hand down your underwear and finding you slick and warm. The thought of what he could have his cock inside rather than your mouth, made him groan. Not that he didn’t love your mouth, but fuck, that pussy..
You gasp involuntarily as his thumb connects with your clit. Honestly, you weren’t really looking for any penetration, just some rubbing to ease the tension you were feeling. And it was as if Joel understood just that. He always did.
You moan softly and part your mouth once again, grinding your hips into his hand as you bob your mouth up and down on his cock. You bring a hand up to his shaft, wrapping around the part of him you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Your other hand rests on his inner thigh, the solid muscles beneath your hand making you even more aroused.
You can hear Joel struggling above you, his head thumps back against the headrest, his fingers getting sloppy on your clit as pleasure started to cloud his mind. You smile as best you could with his girth stretching your mouth when you feel him start to tremble. “Good?” Your garble around him, your voice muffled and ridiculous.
And you could’ve sworn you heard him growl at the sound of your voice. He nods, grinding his teeth hard enough to hurt. “Gonna cum — fuck,” he swears. “That’s good, sweetheart. Real good, use your tongue under my head, just like that.” He blurts, his hips bucking up slightly, as if he couldn’t control it.
Which, he probably couldn’t.
And then he was cumming.
His tip begins to spurt rope after rope of his hot, creamy cum into your mouth, the quantity of his seed telling you just how long it’s been since he’s found release in the time you’ve both been apart.
You whimper at the sensation of him filling your mouth, the scent and taste of him on your tongue. Without thinking twice, you swallow him down in one, a feeling of relief settling deep in your stomach despite not having a release yourself.
Joel pants above you, his hand that was in your pants now shoved into his mouth. You hadn’t even realised he’d been sucking the taste of you off his fingers until now when you looked up.
And the expression on his face? It was pure bliss.
Okay I know this is really short and I actually kinda hate it because I got super lazy toward the end but…. I love this dynamic!! Pls consider dropping a comment or reblog if you enjoyed, it’s very much appreciated!!
c/w .ᐟ.ᐟ language, pet names, reader was in a situationship with jj, toxic frat!jj, rafe’s a d1 yearner, choking, shower oral (m. receiving), first-time protected p in v, jealousy, possessiveness, praise + exhibitionism
5,039 words
You catch yourself smiling at your phone and immediately roll over, pressing your face into your pillow like that is going to erase it. Your cheeks are warm, and you hate it.
You did not want to do this. You wanted a minute to be by yourself and reset, not get pulled into something else the second things ended.
The worst part is that it’s working. He’s charming you without even trying, and you can feel it happening in real time, which only makes you more annoyed with yourself.
You pause for a second, reading his message again, because he is not even trying to hide it. He’s being direct about what he wants, and somehow that feels more comforting than anything else.
You’ve always had a thing for Rafe Cameron, even when you tried to ignore it. JJ never treated this like it was something real, and now you know why. He was hooking up with one of your sorority sisters the entire time and still acting like you were supposed to be okay with it.
It is nice to finally feel wanted, especially by Rafe.
The knock barely lands before you’re flinging the door open, breathless and excited. Your pulse jumps the second you see him—the man flushed and grinning, his hand still lifted mid-knock.
You don’t even say hello. Grabbing the front of his shirt instead, you drag him to your lips. Rafe’s big arms wrap around you in one smooth motion as he lifts you clean off your feet. Your legs hook around his waist as his mouth crashes into yours, stealing your breath as you kiss him for the very first time—riding high off the feeling that you’ve been waiting for this exact moment longer than you ever let yourself admit.
The kiss is messy and deep, all tongue and heat, breathless laughter whispering in the spaces between as he carries you inside, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel.
“Fuck,” he murmurs as he breaks the kiss, reaching for breath, his voice low and thick.
He turns and presses your back against the wall, his body settling against yours with a heavy weight that makes your breath catch as your spine meets it. His mouth drags along your jaw before finding your lips again, teasing you with a kiss before drawing back ever so slightly, leaving you chasing his lips.
“You sure?” He whispers.
“I need it,” you breathe back, the words coming out soft and breathless against his mouth. “I need you.”
He takes his turn smiling into the kiss, sending chills down your spine, cocky and stunned all at once. He dips in again, kissing you slower this time, deep enough to make your head spin and everything else fall away.
“Need it, huh?” He mumbles. “Need what?”
“You,” you breathe. He lets out a low laugh against your skin before he sets you to your feet, your body still pinned against the wall, his rough hand cupping your cheek as the other holds you close, kissing you again.
“Still need that shower?” He murmurs into the kiss.
“Mhmm,” you answer softly. “Do you?”
“You kiddin’ me?” He says as his hand wraps around your waist, the other gripping your ass, pulling you off the floor, into his arms again.
Your head swims as you kiss your way to the bathroom; your body melting into him, legs wrapping around his waist. Light spills in from the bedroom, leaving the bathroom half-lit.
He sets you down on the edge of the countertop, the cool top sending shivers up your spine as your upper thighs press on top of it. Rafe presses in closer, widening your thighs, looking down at the slight space between you—the soft fabric of your shorts shifting just enough to give him a teasing glimpse underneath.
He shakes off his jacket, his clothes falling with a thud to the floor. Your hands skate around his waist while your tongue sweeps along his, your fingers curling into the hem of his shirt as you pull him closer.
He tugs the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, already leaning back toward you, chain swinging between you. You hum a satisfied sound against your kiss; your fingers tracing down every dip and line of his cut abs, sliding lower, teasing the skin just under his waistband, leaving him yanking at his belt for more.
His pants drop to the floor, the belt clattering as your hands reach for him. Your fingers rake up into his hair, pulling him back into another kiss, deeper this time, and the two of you move toward the shower.
Rafe pushes open the glass shower door, twisting the knob, sending water hissing out of the head, pattering onto the floor. His cock presses heavy against his briefs, long and thick, his tip weeping against the thin fabric.
His hands move over your body, dragging up your thighs, bunching the material in his fists, before drifting up your back. He smiles as he brushes the satin straps off your shoulders.
He exhales as your set falls off your body, leaving you in next to nothing—lace hugging the swells of your breasts, his thumbs quickly hooking and snapping your panties teasingly against your hips.
“Look at you, huh?” He murmurs, smiling when your arms wrap around his neck. He tilts down, kissing you as the steam starts to rise around you, the heavy heat and moisture clinging to your skin and his.
He tugs at your panties—caught on the discarded clothes on the floor, his greedy hands pinching the clasp of your bra, undoing that as well.
There’s a split second where he just looks at you like he can’t believe you’re actually standing there letting him this close. “You fuckin’ kidding me?” He mutters hungrily under his breath, helping you hastily as you reach for the band of his boxers, pulling them down his strong thighs.
You look down, the two of you watching as your fingers curl around his long, thick dick. The ridges of his abs cut more as you stroke, letting his messy tip brush against your warm skin, dangerously close to your clit—close enough that he could scoop you up and take what he wants, but you can tell he’s holding back.
“Stop teasin’ me,” he mumbles, through the thick air between you, the corners of his lips curving into a smile, contrasting his dark words.
His hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you toward the shower and into his lips as you stumble past the glass. You gasp when the water hits your skin, whimper into his mouth when he backs you into the tile.
“You gotta stop me,” he mutters, his voice rough and deep.
His breath catches the moment your hand moves between you again; fingers closing around him as you smile.
“Goddamn,” he moans, the sound echoing around you before his forehead drops, resting against yours.
“Let me make you feel good, Rafe,” you whisper, unable to see his lips for how close you are but you can hear how his breathing quickens, the hold on your body tightening.
“Anything—Do anything you want to me,” he breathes as your lips kiss down his neck, brushing over his collarbone, his chain cool against your lips as your hands follow the water down his body.
It hits you all at once, somewhere between your hands on him and the heat of the water—how easy this feels, how right, like you skipped all the parts that were supposed to be complicated and landed exactly where you wanted to be.
You follow the line of his stomach, your tongue tracing lightly over his skin as you sink to your knees in front of him. Water wicks off your lashes when you look up at him.
“Fuck…” He murmurs; head tipping back against the tile as the water runs through his hair and down over his broad shoulders.
You look up at him through the rising steam, watching as his jaw tightens the moment your hands settle on his thighs, nails tracing over his skin, his body going tense when your mouth hovers close enough for him to feel your breath.
You press a slow kiss to one hip and then the other, his hands flexing uselessly at his sides while he watches you. And you just know if you were his, he’d be putting you right where he needs you—just a fantasy for another night.
“You’re really gonna do this?” He asks needily, words trailing off when you press a kiss on his tip, swirling your tongue around the fat head of his cock. His hips twitch forward before he can stop them, one of his hands coming to rest at the back of your head, holding you there, urging you forward as his eyes roll back.
You hum softly around him as your hand moves over him, the sounds of his pleasure running straight through you, and you haven't even taken more than the tip. His head lolls back against the bathroom wall while his hips push forward at a steady pace, getting deeper and deeper as your tongue toys with him.
“Oh my God,” he breathes, dragging a hand over his face like he’s trying to pull himself together. “Fuck, baby, I…”
You let out a quiet laugh against him as the words die on his tongue the moment you start to suck, the warmth of your mouth making him shudder as your hand keeps stroking.
“You feel unreal,” he says quietly, his voice rough around the edges. “So good—so fucking good.”
The muscles in his thick thighs tremble as you gag on him, water sliding down your back, the tears that had started to pool on your waterline and roll down your cheeks, catching the off warm water as it bounces off his tan skin.
“Shit,” he rasps as his mouth falls open in pleasure, water dripping off his bottom lip, one hand holding your head, the other gripping the shower bar for support. “What are you doing to me, baby…”
“Tell me to stop,” you tease softly. “I will.”
“Stop?” He breathes as your lips wrap around him again, sucking and sliding along his thick dick. “Fuck, don’t—don’t fucking stop.” His jaw tightens; eyes hooded as he looks down at you, a slow, dangerous smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
He starts to move his hips, slow and shallow at first, his rhythm growing steadier with each stroke, watching your mouth take him in. You moan around him, and the sound all but tipping him over the edge.
“Ohhh fuck, there it is,” he groans, letting his hips shift again, this time with a little more force as your hands drift back. Your fingers claw into his thighs, urging him to use you. “You like that?” He asks, his voice dropping low. “You like when I use you like this, huh?”
His movements stay fluid as the steam thickens around you, his chain swaying with each measured rock of his hips.
“Look at me,” he mutters.
Your nails dig into the back of his legs as they tremble, his cock swelling on your tongue.
“Jesus, baby…” He moans as his head thumps back against the tile and his jaw tightens. “I—I’m gonna cum.” His voice breaks, bouncing off the shower walls. “Wh-What… Fuck. What do you want me to do with it?”
Your eyes never leave him as you take him deep, your tongue tracing the underside of his cock, and that is all it takes. A strangled moan tears out of him as his hands fly to your head, holding you in place.
His muscles pull tight as he spills into your mouth, his abs contracting; thighs shaking, head dropping forward.
He looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, watching you take everything he gives you, lip tucking between his teeth when you suck just a little longer, overstimulation leaving his fingers curling in your wet hair.
The breathless laugh that leaves his throat is everything; satisfied, smug, and thankful all in the same breath, like he’s just waiting to wake up.
His hold loosens, cock sliding out of your spit-slicked lips. You shiver as his hands slide over your ribs, drawing you closer. Hot water pours down your body and his—his breathing still heavy as his eyes search yours.
“Thank you,” he mumbles against your mouth as his muscles tremble around you, that same hung-smile painted on his lips.
“Of course,” you whisper, kissing him tenderly. You can feel his lips twitch against yours, like he wants to ask you something, he just doesn't know how far he can take this. “Rafe…”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he hums, his words buzzing against your lips as his hand comes up to cradle your cheek.
“How far?”
“How far what, sweetheart?” He asks, and you laugh like he wasn’t hoping to guide you right where you ended as your fingers trace down his spine.
“How far did you want to take this?” You ask.
“As far as you let me,” he answers easily. “Told you, you were gonna have to stop me—”
“I don't wanna stop,” you breathe into your kiss.
“That’s not really an answer, pretty,” he mumbles, grabbing a fistful of hair, using his hold to guide you to his lips. “You won’t hurt my feelings. Hell, I got good hands.” His rough fingers slide between your thighs, pressing against your pussy, making you gasp against his lips. “M’really good at eating pussy,” he mumbles, swallowing the little sounds that slip your lips as he starts to circle his fingers on top, the words low and shameless. “Swear to God.”
“Rafe…” You breathe as you pull away, just enough. “Fuck me.”
“Holy shit,” he mutters against your mouth, the words thick with satisfaction and a smugness he does not bother hiding. “That’s what you want, huh?”
“You gonna make me wait?” You whisper against his lips.
“Fuck me… No. No—hell no.” He stumbles over his words as you question him, ragged and eager. “You’re not waiting for shit from me—you sure?” The rush of water stops in an instant, Rafe quickly taking you back in his arms before he can get another word out.
Your arms wrap around his neck, and your legs around his waist as he steps out with you; your fingers scratching up into his damp hair as he licks his lips, his eyes locked on yours through the sliver of space in between.
“Condom?” He asks.
“By the sink,” you whisper.
You kiss all the way to the sink, messy and impatient, his feet slapping wet against the floor as he walks. One hand braces under your thighs while the other taps blindly across the counter for a condom, fingers finally finding the foil packet; letting out a quiet groan of relief against your mouth.
You giggle against his lips and he smiles against yours, slowing his pace just enough to walk into the bedroom, the two of you still soaking wet. Too desperate to think about drying off, just desperate for what comes next. “Fuck,” he groans softly. “I cannot wait to fuck you—” Knock. Knock.
Your head snaps toward the door, stomach sinking as everything suddenly goes quiet.
“Probably just one of the girls,” you whisper, even though your better judgment tells you it’s not true.
Knock. Knock. Knock. A fist pounds against the wood on the other side of the door as Rafe’s lips meet your neck, licking and sucking down on your pulse point like your word was good as gold.
“Rafe—”
“S’fine,” he stops you, kissing up to your ear. “Just one of the girls—”
“Open… the goddamn door,” you hear JJ’s voice on the other side making chills fall down your spine, the water on your hot skin suddenly feeling cold.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Rafe mutters as your heart starts to race again for a completely different reason entirely.
“Shh,” you plead, searching for his eyes, making a silent plea for his temper not to get the better of him—for him to tell Maybank to ‘fuck off’ and stir the pot like you know he loves to do. The utterance leaves your lips as you slide down from his arms, moving toward the door on unsteady legs, water dripping off your naked body onto the floor.
Rafe follows close behind you without thinking about it, his palm resting on your hip possessively. You hold your breath nervously as you near the door, a wave of nerves crashing over you the second you hear him mumbling.
“Rafe…” You whisper, looking back over your shoulder, finding him with not one care in the world—his entire focus lost in you. He knows it’s JJ. He knew it the second the first knock landed but he also knows there's nothing his frat brother can do about it.
The backs of your legs brush his as he steps in close behind you, his stiff cock brushing snug between your thighs; the condom bit between his teeth, as his eyes trace from your ass, following the sway of your back, up to your lips.
He lets out this quiet, almost disbelieving breath, like this has been playing out in his head for so long he’s still catching up to the fact that it’s actually happening.
His fingers tighten as he guides you back, arching your spine, pressing your ass into him more. Knock. Knock. JJ’s fist lands against the threshold again, making you gasp. “—Hey, baby?” JJ calls from the other side and your eyes widen on Rafe’s.
“Baby? Who the fuck’s callin’ you baby, huh?” Rafe asks through the corner of his mouth, warm and casual, reaching up to pinch the edge of the condom wrapper before he tears it nice and slow.
“Open the fucking door,” JJ mutters as Rafe spits the wrapper to the floor, shaking his head.
“You want me to stop?” Rafe asks as he draws back his hips and lowers the condom. “Tell me to stop and I will—”
“I’m not gonna ask again, alright? Open the fucking door,” JJ snarls but you're already turning around, your back pressed against it, taking the condom off Rafe’s hands.
“Don’t stop,” you whisper, making Rafe suck in a sharp breath as you press it against the tip of his cock, rolling it on with your eyes locked on his. He grabs your hips, turning you fast, your hands landing against the door with a thud.
“Sweetheart?” JJ voice breaks at the sound.
“Go—” That’s all you manage before Rafe pushes into you in one slow, steady stroke. A strangled sound catches in your throat and your hand flies back, grabbing his wrist where it locks tight around your hip while your other hand clamps over your mouth.
“Go?” He snaps from the hallway. “One fucking word. That’s all I get?”
“—Yeah, that's all he fuckin’ gets,” Rafe murmurs softly against your skin as he steps in, his lips finding your ear, cock buried inside you, his voice low and satisfied. “Pussy’s so damn good. Fuck me.”
Your head falls back against him at the way he stretches you wide, his big hand locks around your neck, drifting higher, making your hands fall away, turning your face so your lips find his.
“Just—Just leave,” your words breathe out against Rafe’s lips. He rocks back, making you whimper, his lips pressing against yours to swallow your sounds as he pushes back in again.
“I know he’s in there,” JJ seethes. “Cleo saw him walkin’ inside. He thinks he’s slick.” His fist bangs against the door again, making it rattle on the frame. “Open the fucking door, Cameron.”
“Want me to say somethin’ or do you want to keep going?” Rafe asks again, smiling against your lips as you breathe out, “keep going,” hearing just how wet he has you, the sounds of your pleasure filling your room.
“I’m not leaving until he comes out.”
You gasp when Rafe pulls away without warning, your whole body tightening at the sudden loss, until he turns you around in one easy motion and lifts you. He steps twice, pressing your back against the wood door. His tongue runs along his bottom lip with his eyes locked on yours.
“You know how good it would feel to pound you into this door right now?” He whispers as he adjusts, lifting you just enough to find your entrance, your eyes softening on him when he lets gravity do the work, your body sinking down on his cock with you held in his arms taking all of it. “So pretty taking my dick,” he whispers, burying himself in your neck, being careful as he thrusts up into you but you know it has to be making some sound on the other side.
“You’re being irrational—” Bang.
You cut off JJ’s words, letting your fist slam against the door this time, making both men stop for a moment. “You can leave or listen, JJ. Honestly I don’t give a shit—”
“Listen? Listen are you fucking kidding me?” JJ spits as Rafe chuckles just under his breath at your words and JJ’s reaction, unable to keep it in any longer. “You do anything with Cameron and we’re done!”
“Well shit… Who’s gonna tell him?” Rafe mutters, just loud enough for you to hear—just loud enough that it might carry through the wood like he hopes it does. And it does.
“Leave, Maybank,” Rafe hums, like it’s an afterthought—like he’s knee deep in better things to do. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Talkin’ shit behind a locked door like a fucking pussy… very Rafe of you, Rafe.”
“Maybe it would be good for him to hear, hmm?” Rafe asks, throwing his hips up hard and final, leaving your fingers clawing into his skin and his name whimpering past your lips. “Shh…” Rafe teases you as he dives in for a kiss, harder this time, drawing you off the wall and toward the bed.
He lays you back on the mattress, his broad hands spreading your thighs as his mouth drags over your chest. Rafe only laughs, low and rough, not the least bit concerned as JJ continues his tantrum and threats outside.
Rafe leans over you, fists curling around the backs of your thighs as he presses them up toward your chest. “Be good and hold ‘em,” he breathes before his cock slides through your folds, slick and warm, teasing you as his eyes drink you in.
“Rafe,” you whine, pleading sweetly for more.
He shakes his head and smiles, lost somewhere on cloud nine. “Sure this is okay?” He asks like you weren't just begging for him, smacking his tip against your clit making your hips lift off the mattress.
“Yes, fuck.” Your breath catches, lips parting as he traces your slit, falling open completely as a soft sound slips past your lips as he pushes in, stretching you wide and full, your shaky hands resting gently on his hips when you take him all.
He lowers your legs gently and tilts in to kiss you, deep and unhurried, his rough hands sliding around your hips to draw you closer before he draws back, thrusting into you again.
Your hands lift to cradle his face mewling into his mouth when he thrust deeper, finding that place inside you that makes your mind shut off.
He groans into your kiss as your pussy tightens around him, his forehead comes to rest against yours—his breath warm and uneven against your lips.
And then, it's just you. The heat between your bodies, the pressure between your thighs, the pleasure climbing with your heartbeat, higher by the second.
Rafe’s hand slides down your thighs as he shifts his weight, and before you can quite catch your breath he rolls, turning the two of you in one smooth motion, guiding you over until you are straddling him.
You let out a soft laugh of surprise as you settle on top, your hands landing instinctively against the solid plane of his chest. His hair’s damp and pushed back from his forehead, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady pulls of air as his chain glitters around his throat.
“Jesus,” he murmurs, his voice rough with awe. “Look so good on top of me, you know that?”
You shift your weight and he groans low in his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as you circle them.
“That’s it,” he breathes, his hands guiding you gently. “Easy, baby. Just like that.”
Your nails dig into his chest as you begin to move, slow and steady at first, your body finding its rhythm while his muscles tense beneath your palms, his mouth falling open.
“Fuck,” he exhales. “You move like you were made for me.”
Your hands drift a little higher, thumb resting the hollow of his throat with your hands wrapping and squeezing just enough to make his eyes roll back in his skull.
“Holy—Holy shit. Tight… Tighter,” he moans as you ride him, your hips finding a deeper rhythm, and his eyes fluttering open just enough to find yours, fighting to stay open like he doesn’t want to miss a second of it.
“Rafe, I—” You start but he can already feel the way your body squeezes around him and your thighs tremble, grabbing for you, switching positions before sinking into you again.
Your fingers twist into the sheets as he grips you by your hips, drilling into you again and again until your back arches, and your pussy gushes, cumming around his while he does everything he can do to keep his pace, but it feels too fucking good.
Your body softens slightly as his dick throbs inside you, filling the condom with his head thrown back and his muscles cut tight to keep himself as deep as he can go.
“Holy shit,” he says softly, a quiet kind of disbelief in his voice breaking with pleasure. “You got no idea how—” His words drift away as he draws in a deep, needed breath, blowing it out with a satisfied smile. “You got no idea how long I wanted that.”
“Yeah?” You giggle, feeling your entire body warm when he looks at you like he means every word—like he’d say more if he could get it out.
He leans down and presses a slow kiss to your mouth, tender and deep as his rough thumb traces your cheek. “How was that?” He asks, quiet now, a smile pulling against your lips.
“Amazing.” Your voice is small but honest when your lips brush against his. “I’ve never cum like that before.”
He pulls away just enough to make sure he heard what he thought he heard, exhaling a short, breathy laugh and drops his head to your neck.
“Baby,” he murmurs. “Why the fuck would you tell me that?” His head turns, lips finding your neck, pressing his mouth to your skin as your fingers drift into his hair. “It’s gonna kill me not to bring that shit up.”
“Don’t.”
He groans again, pained and dramatic as ever. “How the fuck am I supposed to keep that to myself?”
“Please tell me you didn’t actually plan to bring that up.”
“I mean…” He mumbles, already picturing it. You pull him out of the fantasy, tugging playfully at his hair. “Please tell me you faked it with him.”
You hesitate for half a second before glancing away, lips twitching. “Rafe, c’mon,” you sigh, unable to answer—too bitter to lie.
“You’re shittin’ me?”
He pulls back to look at you and your features sharpen, threatening him with a look. “That stays between us.”
“Us?” He asks as he closes the space between your lips, kissing you softly.
“Us,” you whisper. “I’m not rushing into anything, Rafe.”
“Nah. No,” he breathes into your kiss as it gets a little deeper, his hand coming up to cradle your head. “I’m not—I mean… I wouldn’t want to pressure you into being mine or anything—”
“You’re so convincing,” you giggle against his lips and he sighs. “Haven’t even taken me on our date yet—”
“Shit’s planned though. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night, you and me?”
“I swore off frat guys though,” you mumble.
“Mmm,” he hums. “How’s that workin’ out for you, sweetheart?”
“Fuck you,” you giggle, smacking him playfully before he squeezes you tight.
“Fuck me, huh?” He teases, the warmth of his words ghosting against your jaw. “At least let me pull out first, yeah?”
“You’re so annoying,” you laugh.
“Yeah?” He grins. “You told me to come over… good luck getting rid of me now.”
“I did,” you whisper. “But, yeah… tomorrow.”
The corner of his lips curl into a smile as he hears exactly what he wanted to hear. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”
Everything in the room starts to settle, the party at the frat house next door still raging, the steady bass of the music thumping. But, Rafe’s still here, he hasn’t left, completely content with you in his arms.
He pulls out slowly, stepping out of the room, coming back in with a warm, wet towel and no plans to leave, and you can’t help but smile. He looks down at you, waiting for an invitation to step back in, breathing out a sigh of relief when you draw back the covers.
The towel moves between your legs, running up the inside of your thighs. His lips twitch at the corner again, like it’s killing him not to say everything he’s ever wanted to say to you.
“Rafe?” You giggle under your breath, watching a rosy blush bloom on his cheeks.
“Yeah, pretty,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Just say it,” you sigh.
“I, uh—I probably shouldn’t walk out there right now.”
You roll your eyes and snort out a laugh, snuggling into your bed a little more as he lays his head down on the pillow next to you, his big hand resting on your thigh. “Why not?”
“Well,” he says, like he is thinking it through moving a little closer, “JJ’s out there somewhere, isn’t he?”
Your eyebrow arches as another laugh bubbles past your lips, Rafe no stranger to a fight or two, or five. “Rafe—“
“Guy sounded pretty pissed.”
“Thought you didn’t give a shit,” you remind him.
He looks back at you, eyes warm and amused before his big arm tightens around you just a little, drawing you closer against his chest.
“But staying,” he adds quietly, his mouth brushing your forehead, “seems like the safer option.”
“Mhmm,” you murmur.
“Don’t make me leave,” he pleads softly, joking but not entirely. His finger draws under your chin, tilting your lips toward his, waiting for an answer he can feel before it even leaves your lips.
Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: On a warm summer night something changes between you and Joel, and you have to keep your voice down so your father wouldn't find out.
Warnings: MDNI (+18), swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, dirty talk, age gap, protected p in v sex, one pussy slap, soft aftercare, quiet bantering
Word count: ~ 3.6k
You knew it was wrong for a number of reasons. He was a lot older than you, grumpy and he almost never looked at you when you passed by. But most of all, he was your father’s best friend since they were in elementary school. They were always hanging around each other, sometimes they were like brothers. When something happened, they were there and you always saw them in a different light. Your father, who raised you up to the woman you are today, and his friend, who saw this whole journey.
He saw when you were learning how to ride a bike for the very first time. He was looking after you when your father had to go on a work-trip, helping you with your geography homework and he was always like a second father to you. Until this small connection between you took a whole turn.
You started going to college and started to change. Your appearance became similar to the other girls, your curves developing every year. The girly clothes in your wardrobe were changed to more elegant and minimalist ones, and you were a lot more confident in some situations, and shyer in others.
But every summer when you went home you could see Joel’s gaze shift. His eyes raked over your body like he was seeing you for the first time, but you could feel them burning your skin where they tracked a path. He saw that you weren’t that little girl anymore, and that fact made you feel something deep down in your heart.
But everything changed forever between you on a warm summer night.
It was your father’s idea. Watching a basketball match like in the good old days. And you agreed. Of course you agreed. But he didn’t tell you that he also invited Joel.
“I thought it would be amazing if we could spend some time together. And he said he didn’t have anything to do tonight,” your father’s words still echoed in your ears as you were getting ready. You pulled out your favourite summer dress with small flowers on it, and let your hair down, its waves cascading down your shoulders.
You were sitting on the couch when you heard three firm knocks on the door. You looked to your left, gaze falling on the clock hanging from the wall. 6:47 pm.
“Can you get it?” your father yelled from the kitchen while he was preparing the snacks and the beers. You slowly stood up, adjusted the hem of your dress, and walked slowly to the door. When you opened it, Joel was standing there, his hand raised to knock again, when his eyes locked with yours. He had a checked shirt on with old jeans on, a six pack of beers in his left hand. His hair was longer than you’d remembered, and gray hairs could be seen scattered around. His expression was unreadable, but you saw his eyes flicker down to your body for just a mere second.
“Hey,” he said with a low voice and a shiver ran down your body. His voice seemed lower than the last time you’ve seen him.
“Hey, come in,” you stepped to the side so he could come in, and as he took a step inside he brushed against you, the smell of him hitting your nose. It was something like wood, leather and something else that you couldn’t really name but your brain has strongly associated it with him.
“I brought some beer. Didn’t know if there would be enough,” he held up the pack in his hands and you nodded. You looked back up and your gaze met his, eyes so dark that it made a blush creep to your cheeks. As you opened your mouth to answer him, you heard footsteps behind you from the hallway, and you both broke eye contact, glancing in the direction of your father as he emerged.
“Joel, finally,” your father took his hand and gave it a hard and firm shake. You watched the interaction from the side, catching the faint smile in the corner of Joel’s lips. “You bought extra beer?”
“Didn’t know if we needed more. Thought I think ahead,” he held out the six pack to him, and your father took it. You crossed your arms in front of you and when you saw Joel look down for just a moment, you smirked and gave him a subtle wink—one that your father didn’t notice. He quickly averted his gaze, his posture going rigid as he followed your dad inside the living room.
You were still standing there in front of the door, thinking about the gaze he just gave you, and how he just basically checked you out in front of your father. Subtle. Very subtle. Yeah, things definitely changed between you with the years. And you couldn’t help but anticipate what this night will hold for both of you.
The match was blasting on the TV, the light from it illuminating the otherwise dark room, coffee table full of snacks and beer. You were sitting on the single armchair, legs under you, hand propping your face up, the other wrapped around a cold beer in your lap. Your father was sitting on the couch; eyes fully focused on the screen and the player who just threw a basket. And Joel. Joel was sitting to his right, closer to you, slightly slouched down the soft material of the furniture. His left hand was wrapped around the head of his beer, his right behind his head.
Your eyes averted from the TV to his form and you couldn’t help but basically drool at the sight of him. Here in the light the gray hairs were more prominent in his hair and beard, the shirt now unbuttoned at the top—showing the white t-shirt underneath. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a big gulp, your eyes travelling down to his neck—the bob of his Adam’s apple.
He was completely engrossed in the match but when he felt something like a burning sensation he looked to his right. He caught the way you looked at him and smirked at you. When you pulled back your gaze to his face, you noticed that he was already staring at you. But now, instead of turning away embarrassed, you held eye contact, holding your head up high. His smirk turned even smugger. The sudden movements of your father broke the little trance, and you finally turned your head back to the TV.
When the match came to half-time you stood up and placed your empty bottle of beer on the coffee table. Your father and Joel looked at you with a questioning gaze but you just shrugged.
“I’m feeling a little sleepy so, I think I’ll go and get some sleep,” you lied, stretching towards the ceiling, dress riding up your thigh, exposing even more skin. You saw Joel’s jaw flex, eyes trying to stay on your face.
“Are you alright?” your father asked, completely oblivious to the little connection between you and Joel.
“Yes, just a bit tired,” your father nodded at your response, and reached for his phone, settling further into the couch. You winked at Joel and went to the kitchen to fill a cup with water. Halfway through you heard heavy footsteps behind you, but didn’t look back. But then a heavy presence loomed behind you, and you stopped in your tracks. You felt his hot breath against the back of your neck, his arms caging you between his body and the counter.
“If you woulda kept lookin’ at me like that, darlin’, I don’t think I would have lasted through the whole night,” he growled in your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You placed the water on the counter and slowly turned around to face him. First his broad chest came into the level of your eyes, but when his hand came up and cupped your jaw gently, forcing you to look up, you were met with a dark pair of eyes burning low with desire.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you whispered innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.
“Oh, darlin’. Don’t play the innocent to me. You know exactly what I’m talking ‘bout,” he leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours. “And doin’ it while your daddy’s sittin’ next to me?” he chuckled, and you grew redder and redder with every word that was leaving his lips. His hand came to your waist, squeezing down softly.
“And what will you do about it?” you smirked up at him, your hands coming to rest on his chest. His eyes flicked down for a second, and you could see the shift in them.
“Oh, trust me, darlin’, you don’t wanna know.”
“And what if I do?” As soon as you finished your sentence his mouth found yours with a slow tenderness that you didn’t expect from him. His body moved even closer to you, lips fighting each other for dominance. He leaned forward, and with a simple move he picked you up and placed you on the counter. Your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, while his found your cheek. You could feel his hardening length pressing against your thigh, and you smiled into the kiss. At this moment you completely forgot about your father in the next room, but when you heard footsteps you quickly moved away and jumped off the counter trying to fix your appearance.
“Oh, I thought you said you were going to sleep,” your father appeared in the doorway, his look moving back and forth between you and Joel.
“Uhm, yes, I just needed some water.”
“Right. And you?” your father now dedicated his question to Joel, moving to one of the cupboards.
“Just came for another beer,” his voice was a bit gravelly, but his stance went back to his normal state.
“I might take another one too,” he smiled at both of you, and you picked up your water from the counter and looked at your father.
“Then I just go. Enjoy the rest of the match, guys,” you walked past your dad, sparing a final glance at Joel, who looked after you with hunger in his eyes. Your father was too busy with whatever he was searching in the cupboard, so you took the chance and winked at Joel.
“Later. My room,” you mouthed to him, and smiled as he subtly lowered his hand and adjusted himself in his pants.
It took him a whole hour.
You were laying in bed when you heard the unmistakable sound of his boots on the hardwood, and you smirked at the ceiling. Next three firm but quiet knocks came down on your door. You got up, walked to it, and opened it. Joel was standing there, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the stairs. When he heard the soft creak of the door he looked up, and his breath caught in his throat.
You already took off your sundress and dressed into soft black shorts and a white tank top. You didn’t bother to put on any bra, you knew it would have been unnecessary. Especially with him. When you saw the expression on his face, clear satisfaction creeped into your mind.
“Like something you see?” you asked with a cheeky tone, and he looked at you in disbelief.
“Fuck, darlin’,” he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him without a noise, and the next thing you knew, you were caged between his arms. “You don’t even know how much. That little sundress of yours tonight? Drove me fuckin’ crazy,” he captured your lips with his, and you let out a quiet gasp at the sudden contact. You melted into his arms, and you let him carry you to the bed.
One of your hands found the back of his neck while the other grasped the shirt on his chest. His was roaming all across your body, caressing your hair, cheeks, waist, hands tightening when he reached your hips. You moaned into his mouth, and he used this little moment to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He let out a growl, and unconsciously moved his hips forward, making you throw your head back. His lips left yours and traced gentle kisses along your jaw and the curve of your neck. You were holding on tightly to his shoulder. When his hand reached for the hem of your shirt he pulled back and looked at you, asking for permission. And that’s when it all hit you. Your father was just downstairs, watching the TV. You didn’t think this through.
“Joel. My father—”
“Don’t worry ‘bout him, darlin’,” he continued to pepper your throat with kisses, occasionally nipping at the skin.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s so drunk that he decided to bake cookies,” he looked into your eyes, caressing your hair.
“Cookies? At—” you looked at the clock on your bedside table. “At 9:24 pm?”
“As I said, darlin’, he’s really drunk. I’m pretty sure he'll fall asleep in the first five minutes, although…” he searched your eyes again, and when you nodded, he pulled off the tank top. “Although that doesn’t mean you won’t have to stay quiet,” he threw away the top, not bothering to look where it lands. “Fuck, look at you, darlin’,” his gaze dropped to your breasts and lingered there.
His mouth connected with your throat again, moving lover and lover with every kiss. He traced a path between your breasts, and when he took one nipple in his mouth you threw your head back against your pillow, stifling a moan. His tongue was dancing around the hardened peak, his hand coming up and playing with your other one. You arched your back when he started sucking. When he felt satisfied, he moved to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment.
He moved lower on your body, but you pulled him back up by his shoulder. He looked at you confused, parted his lips to say something but you drowned the words into him by reaching for his belt buckle.
“We don’t have time, Joel,” as soon as the words left your lips he reached for your shorts and pulled them down with a rough tug, leaving you only in your panties laying under him. Your hands moved with a quiet determination, shaking softly by the weight of the moment. He took them and squeezed down softly.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’,” he reached down to unbuckle his belt himself, and you leaned up on your elbows to watch him. You could see the prominent bulge through the fabric of his jeans. He tucked his hand in his back pocket and took out a condom. You looked at him in disbelief and surprise.
“You kept a condom in your back pocket while my father was sitting next to you?”
“Gotta be prepared, darlin’,” he tugged down his briefs, and his cock sprang free. You looked at it with a quiet awe and a bit intimidated by the size of him. As he opened the small packet, and rolled the condom on, he noticed your expression.
“Don’t worry. We’ll gotta make it fit,” you nodded at him. He let out a quiet chuckle, and tugged your panties to the side, his fingers tracing the completely soaked fabric. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re so wet already,” he ran his fingers up and down, his fingers drawing slow circles over your clit. You couldn’t hold back anymore and let out a moan.
“Joel—” he stopped in his tracks, his hand coming down on your thigh with a soft strike. You gasped, and looked at him, whimpering.
“What did I say ‘bout keepin’ quiet, baby?” he soothed over the slightly reddened skin while you reached for his cock. He took your hand and brought it up over your head, pinning it to the mattress. His other reached for his length, tip leaking with precum and almost purple under the low light. He lined himself up with your entrance and looked at you for a final confirmation. When you nodded, he smiled at you and gave you a quick kiss. “Stay quiet, darlin’.”
He slowly eased himself inside you. The stretch at first was making you wince, and you dug your nails into his clothed back. He leaned next to your ear, and he groaned by the sudden warmness and tightness. When he fully bottomed out, the stretch turned into pleasure, and he looked at your face.
“You alright, darlin’?”
“Yes, just… Please move, Joel,” to emphasize your words, you slowly circled your hips. He pulled out and with one quick move he thrusted into you again. He set the pace and moved in and out of you like his life depended on it. You were trying to stay quiet, but it was almost impossible. And that’s how it happened that you let out a strangled cry of his name. And Joel? Joel suddenly stopped, pulled out of you. You whined at the sudden loss of contact, but when the tip of his cock came down on your clit, you arched your back off the bed.
“What did I say, darlin’? Do you want your daddy to hear us?” you shook your head, and he nodded in content. Then he lined himself up again and buried himself in you in one thrust. Now he didn’t stop his pace, didn’t pull away, but his hand came over your mouth to stifle your moans and cries.
“Fuck, darlin’. You’re so fuckin’ tight. Your lil’ pussy’s squeezin’ me so deliciously,” you were a writhing mess under him, and he was relentless. You felt the muscles in his shoulder and back tense with every move, his voice in your ear intensified by the moment. When he saw you were close to the edge, he moved his hand down between your bodies and found your clit. His thumb circled the little bundle of nerves, his pace quickening if that was possible.
“Come for me, darlin’. Let me feel you clench around my cock,” as soon as his words reached your brain, you were gone. Your orgasm shattered like an old vase on the ground, and with a last cry you clenched down around him. He talked you through it, whispering and groaning into your ear. Just a few seconds after you his rhythm faltered, thrusts getting messy and sloppy, and with a final move he buried himself to the hilt and came with a quiet growl. His body was tensed up, and he collapsed on you, careful not to put too much pressure. Your hand came up to comb through his salt and pepper hair, and you let out a content little sigh.
“Jesus, girl,” he murmured into your bare chest. “I think I just threw my back out,” you laughed at his comment, and he squeezed your waist.
“Old man,” you murmured under your breath.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you breathed too quickly, and he looked at you suspiciously but let it go.
When you both felt like you could move again, he climbed off of you, his now limp cock sliding out of you, and a whimper leaving your lips at the emptiness you felt in that moment. You leaned up on your elbow, watching as he pulled off the condom and tied it with a firm knot. He threw it into the bin next to your bed and pulled back up his briefs and jeans.
“I should go down and check on your father. Hopefully he didn’t burn down the kitchen,” you chuckled and looked at his disheveled form.
“Wait,” he looked at you confused when you reached for the little mirror in your bedside drawer. You held it out for him.
“For your hair,” he nodded and took it, looking at himself and the soft curls that were now completely messy. “I have to say I wasn’t very careful with my hands.”
“It’s alright, darlin’,” he combed through his hair, flattening down the waves at the back of his neck and the top of his head. You were looking at him still sprawled out on your bed, still completely naked. He handed back the mirror and gave you a small smile. With a final kiss, he went out your door, and minutes later you could hear him helping your father into his own bedroom. You laid back, and looked at the ceiling, replaying everything that just happened.
Yeah, it was definitely not a one-time thing.
—-—
Later that night, close to midnight you heard your phone hum with a new text, and you immediately picked it up. When you saw it was Joel your stomach did a little flip, and you blushed at his message.
For a few moments the three little points were popping up on your screen then disappearing. You thought that maybe he won’t text back, but the phone lit up in your hand again.
Joel: Thank you for tonight, darling!
You: Are you really thanking me?
Joel: Why? Is that a bad thing?
You: No, just unusual.
Safe to say, you fell asleep that night quite easily. The happenings of the day and the exhaustion was catching up to you, but surely the last thing you saw before the darkness consumed you was Joel’s face and those beautiful dark brown orbs.
Joel: Are you free on Friday? Maybe like 7:00 pm?
You: It depends. What are you planning to do?
Joel: It’s a secret. But you can trust me, darling!
You: Then I’m free. Oh, and my father won’t be home, he is going on a work trip again.
Joel: Amazing! Then I’ll pick you up! Good night, darling!
You: Good night, Joel!
Tags (let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore or if you want to be added): @cozymochaa, @picketniffler, @bergamote-catsandbooks
I legit have been rereading all your works all week. I love them… my request is stuff adjacent of your sweet stuffed mess fic and I’m so happy my breeding kink is wild and free here. I want more pregnancy fics like that please thank you so much 🤲
Fourth Time’s the Charm
Pairing: Joel miller x f!reader
Summary: you and Joel are divorced. Three kids, all yours most days. The tension never left—every visit turns into a fight, or another pregnancy. He comes by to play dad, but ends up behind you, hips deep while you’re dripping and breathless. Then he’s acts like nothing happened. Only, he’s already planning round two. Just to make sure it takes.
Warnings: 18+, BREEDING KINK, BREEDING KINK, BREEDING KINK lmao, smut, toxic!joel, toxic relationship, possessive!joel, slight mean!joel, slight bratty reader, pinv, belly bulge, belly pressing, praise kink, pet names, unprotected sex (obviously lol), power imbalance (?), dub-conish, no outbreak, age gap (only if you like),
A/N: absolutely filthy and disgusting—WE LOVE IT. I’m so glad I’ve created a safe space for our breeding kink chaos, and trust me… I’ve got plenty more ideas to explore 😏 Thank you so much for the message anon and also thank you for sparking this Idea in me hehe ENJOY!
Two children. One Divorce. And one accidental pregnancy after Tommy’s birthday.
Your relationship with Joel was nothing like the ones your friends had. While their husbands built cribs, carried groceries in after work and listened patiently to their wives feelings—Joel was the complete opposite.
One mouth that only spoke when he felt like it. Two ears that never listened when you tried to explain how you felt. Hands that sat stubbornly on his hips, showing his annoyance without a word. And legs that always seemed to carry him to bars instead of his home—to his sweet wife and two kids who still called him “daddy” when he finally stumbled through the door.
You should’ve listened when they warned you. Joel Miller was a dangerous man—no sense of responsibility, no respect, and no idea how to make things right. He liked to fuck, liked to play, loved to tease. But more than anything, he craved control. That was all he ever wanted. Nothing more.
“You could give your kids the same attention as playin’ the handyman around the house.” You huffed, eyes rolling at the way Joel knelt down, tool in his hand like he knows what he is doing.
The third child came just after the divorce. After the long, agonizing custody battle that left you hollow . It happened on Tommy’s birthday—the kids had begged to see their uncle, and you hadn’t had the heart to say no.
What you hadn’t expected was to run into Joel in the bathroom. Hadn’t expected him to look just as devastatingly handsome as the first time you saw him. Hadn’t expected his hands to find their way between your legs, or for his cock to end up buried deep inside you—fucking you with the same reckless intent he had when he put the other two kids into you.
Now, he just shows up to fix things around your house and to say hello to the kids, even though you expect him to spent more time with them.
“You were the one moaning about the fuckin’ sink, woman,” he growls back at you, hands already tightening something with a wrench.
You stand behind him, leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes focused on the way his muscles touch his shirt, the way his body is bigger than yours.
“Just sayin’,” you shrug, trying to look away. “They ain’t got no father figure in their life.”
“Thought you were good enough for ‘em,” Joel murmurs, hands working steadily, while his mind tries to not think about the shorts you greeted him with today.
The only thing he ever truly felt was for you.
He could sleep with countless women, kiss them, fuck them—hell, even marry them. But his mind always drifted back to you. To your soft hands. Your quiet voice. And that sweet, aching cunt he loved filling like it was the only place he ever belonged.
Showing up as a handyman around your house was never about the broken faucet. It was an excuse. A way to see if any man had gotten close to you. To check if you still thought about him. If you still ran your mouth like a brat and refused to listen—just like you used to.
“Guess I had to be. You sure weren’t around,” you mutter, shrugging like it doesn’t sting.
But Joel knows better. Knows you’re just being a brat because you need him.
He saw it the second he stepped through the door. The way your thighs pressed together. The way your eyes lingered on his chest a little too long. He knows every tell, every twitch, every little game you play.
He knows you like the back of his hand.
Joel stands up, wiping his hand on a rug. “Y’done?”
“Not even close. You think fixin’ a sink makes you useful again? You think showin’ up once a week makes you a dad?” You tilt your head, smug, knowing what his darkened eyes mean.
“You really wanna push me right now?”
And you laugh. “Push you? I barely have to try. You’re already halfway to snapping.”
“You always were good at runnin’ that mouth,” he nods his head, now facing you, his body impossibly close to yours.
But you don’t flinch.
“Maybe if you’d kept up, I wouldn’t’ve had to.” Another shrug.
Joel mutters under his breath, something close to “jesus christ,” before putting the dirty rug besides you, on the counter.
“What was that? You prayin’ now? That new? Or is that just what you do when you realize you’re a shit dad and an even worse ex?”
“Shut up, woman,” this time, he growls. Loud. Clear and final.
But you’re not done.
You lean in. “Or what? You’re gonna fix me next?”
Joel doesn’t say anything.
Instead, Joel’s grip finds your hip, firm, rough. Before you can react, he turns you around with practiced force, the edge of the kitchen counter pressing onto your thighs. His hand slides up your back, settling between your shoulder blades, and pushes you down until your upper body meets the cold surface.
Your breath catches at his sudden movements, the adrenaline running through your veins.
He leans in close, voice low and rough against your ear.
“If you wanted another baby,” he mutters, “why didn’t you just say so, hon?”
That’s exactly what he said when he put the third baby into you at Tommy’s birthday. It was clear—It wasn’t about the baby. It was about the claim. About putting something in you that no one else could touch. A reminder. A tether. A quiet, living defiance of the papers that said you two were done.
His length was already free, without you even realising. No warning, no hesitation. One hand hooked into the waistband of your shorts—your panties too—and yanked them down in a single swift motion. Joel Miller didn’t waste time. He moved like a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
“Gonna give you what ya want. So you can stop runnin’ that god damn mouth.” he growls.
It doesn’t take long for you to feel his tip nudging against your entrance, with no preparation, no lube, not even his spit. It stung, just a little. But maybe you wanted it like that. Maybe you wanted that ache, the stretch, the way it made you feel claimed.
“Joel—the hell are you doin’?” Asking as if you don’t know.
Then you feel him—deep, stretching you to your limit, the blunt pressure of him pressing against your cervix. You gasp as he bottoms out, the sensation sharp and overwhelming. He holds you there, unmoving, making you feel every inch of him, while your mouth hangs open and your cunt flutters, trying to adjust to the sudden, aching stretch.
With one hand on your waist and the other one on your throat, he starts snapping his hips, punching into your hole over and over again.
“Oh, you missed me painting your insides white, didn’t you, sweetheart?” He growls into your ear.
You hated how much you missed it and needed it. How the heat pooled in your tummy, how you clenched down on his cock.
“That’s right, baby,” he says, feeling your cunt grip him real tight. His thrusts pick up, deeper, more deliberate. “Y’feel me real deep, don’t you, hon?”
“Joel, please—fuck,”
“I know,” he hushes you. “You always take me so damn good. Like you were made for this.”
The quiet kitchen fills with the sounds of your whimpers, his groans, and the wet squelch of your pussy every time he thrusts in. You were just glad all the kids were at school—Maria catching you both on Tommy’s birthday was traumatizing enough.
“So fuckin’—” he pulls out, only to push harder into you. “—tight.”
You whimper out, hands flat on the surface, holding yourself so your knees won’t buckle.
“You’re gonna take every damn drop. Gonna let me make you a mama again,” he groans out.
You don’t crave motherhood. You crave him. The way he looks at you when you are swollen with his child. The way his hands linger longer, more gentler. The way he whispers ‘mine’ like it means something eternal. This wasn’t about the baby—it was about being filled, claimed, marked in a way no divorce could erase.
You loved your kids. And you loved this messy, possessive thing you had with Joel.
“Missed this cunt. Missed your tits—swollen, heavy, filled with milk,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked against your ear. “This pretty body, big and aching, all because of me.”
You whine out, clenching around his length, already feeling your orgasm building.
“You ovulating?” He asks.
You nod your head the best you can, feeling his grip getting tighter against your body, his thrusts harder.
“Good.”
And with that, he snaps his hips into you—hard, relentless. Your body jolts against the counter, rising and falling with each thrust as the pressure builds. You bite down on your tongue, but a whine escapes anyway. Then the coil in your belly snaps. Heat floods through you, your muscles clench around him as your orgasm tears through you—raw and unstoppable.
“That’s it,” he growls, driving into you one last time—deep as he can get. He holds you there, buried to the hilt, as he erupts inside you—hot and unrelenting.
You can feel him filling you, one spurt after another.
He doesn’t move at first. Just holding you there, letting you pulse around him while you come down. Then he pulls out, slow and deep, like he wants you to feel every inch leaving you. You stay slumped on the counter, legs part, body marked and claimed.
And Joel? He zips baxk up, kneels by the sink, and starts picking through tools—like nothing had happened. Like you aren’t still trembling behind him.
But then—he pauses, hands still smeared with grease. And it hits him—you are ovulating.
The thought lands like a punch to the gut. His jaw clenches. His body responds before his mind can catch up. He stands up. Fast, silent, and scoops you up from behind, while you were still catching your breath. Your limbs limp and trembling against his chest
You gasp, startled, but he doesn’t speak. Just carries you to the couch like you weigh absolutely nothing, like you are already his again.
He lays you down gently, puts a pillow under your head and spreads your legs before sitting down between them.
“Not done,” he mutters, voice low and wrecked. A hand lands on your swollen pussy, two fingers collecting the cum that’s oozing out of you as he starts to spread them across your clit. “Need to make sure it sticks.”
Whimpers start to fall from your lips, feeling the sensitivity of your clit being too much.
“Joel,” you start, voice small and whiny. “S’too much. You’re acting like an animal.”
“I know ya want this. Your body is begging for me,” he locks eyes with you, softening. “Say the word, or i’ll leave.”
Joel still circles your clit lazily, teasing, relentless, while you fight the war inside yourself—wanting him, needing him deep.
And then, barely above a whisper: “Please.”
That’s all it takes for him to smile, then murmur, “That’s my girl,” as he pulls himself out of his jeans again—still hard, still slick from the first time he fucked you.
You wince as he drags his cock slowly across your entrance, teasing you with every pass. You can feel it: his cum already leaking down the couch, warm and messy between your thighs. Your clit throbs, desperate, and when he finally presses the head inside, you moan out. Joel gives you a few gentle thrusts, careful and slow, knowing just how sensitive you are.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, not stopping with rubbing your clit. “So stuffed already. So full.”
With that Joel, fills you to the brim, getting as deep as he can get one more time.
You bite down your lip, holding onto his belly and gripping his shirt until your knuckles turn white.
“Feels good, Joel.” you whine out, hips bucking in need.
“Yea? bet it does,” he gives you a harder thrust. “Bet it feels real good in your pussy.”
He starts with deep, harder thrusts into you, while there’s heat behind them. He is controlled, possessive. His eyes stay locked on yours, watching every twitch, every gasp.
That same high builds again, slow and wicked. You’re stretched around him, so full and aching and every roll of his hips sends sparks up your spine. He leans in, voice low against your ear. “Gonna make you cum again, baby. Gonna fill you while you’re shaking.”
Tears start to prickle in your eyes from the overstimulation.
Then, Joel pauses, he stays buried deep, one hand gripping your thigh, the other sliding up your belly. He presses down, firm but gentle, right where he knows he is. “Feel me?” he murmurs, voice low. “Right there, baby. So deep it hurts.”
You gasp, body twitching, and he just smiles—dark, proud, like he’s carved his name inside you.
You clench down his cock, feeling him pulse inside of you. While your hips start to buck and chase that high again. So Joel doesn’t wait long—he starts moving again, snapping his hips into you with a precise rhythm.
“My good girl. So needy, so full. You feel it, don’t you? That ache deep inside?” He whispers, “Every god damn time I fuck you like this, I swear I feel you pulling me in. Like your body wants it. Like it knows.”
“You’re shaking, babygirl,” and you are. Shaking, feeling that release coming closer and closer. So much so, that you were unable to answer him. “Come on, baby. Milk me. Take every drop.”
Joels hip starts to move faster, his thumb rubbing furiously over your poor nub. The pressure builds low in your belly—tight, aching, relentless. Your floating, half-lost in the rhythm, in the heat, in him.
Your thighs begim to twitch, your chest rising in shallow bursts, and your mind goes blank except for the way he fills you, the way he doesn’t stop.
“I know, baby. I know. You’re doing so good,” he coos. “Let it happen. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Your body arches, trembles, mouth falling open in a silent cry. The high crashes over you like a wave. You clench around him, pulsing, shaking, almost feeling floaty.
Joel groans, deep, holding you through it. His hips slow, but he doesn’t stop—he rides out your orgasm, watching you fall apart beneath him like it’s the most sacred thing he’s ever seen.
And he doesn’t stop.
Your eyes flutter open, dazed, eyes glassy and you gasp as the overstimulation sparks through you again.
“Joel—” you breathe, voice wrecked.
He leans in, kisses the corner of your mouth, his voice coaxing and tender. “S’okay, baby,” he murmurs, “Just a little more. You’re doin’ so good for me.”
He strokes your cheek, presses a kiss to your temple, hips continuing to roll slow and deep.
“Stay with me,” he whispers. “Let me finish inside you. Let me give it to you.”
Then, Joel’s rhythm falters, hips stuttering as the tension finally breaks. He groans, guttural, like it’s been torn from somewhere deep and buries himself to the hilt, holding you tight as he comes.
His grip on your hips tightens, while his other hand presses against your belly like he’s feeling himself claim you from the inside. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged and warm against your skin. You feel it—every pulse, every wave—his body trembling.
“Take it, take every drop” he breathes. “Take all of me.”
Joel stays buried deep, chest pressed to yours, breath ragged against your skin. His body trembling with the aftershocks, muscles tight. He doesn’t move—just holds you there, like letting go would undo him completely.
Then he leans in and kisses your forehead. Soft. Like you’re something holy.
You’re still catching your breath, legs limp, heart thudding against his. And even though your body’s wrecked, your voice comes out low and dry:
“You better pay for all the college fees.”
Holy okey so, in reality this would be very irresponsible and not great. But it’s fiction so😝😜🤪
I hope you guys enjoyed this! Always love to read your comments and reblogs😘😘
titsay
andulkaphoto
annaxmalina
prguitarman
turnnoffyourmind
janainaart
izzy806
