bad idea, right? ⋅☆⋅
masterlist | ao3
pairing:Joel Miller x reader rating: 18+ tags: dubcon, roommates dad!joel, cheerleader!reader, college!reader, Joel is kinda pervy so semi dark!joel, reader has boyfriend (not joel), daddy issues, manipulation, dumbification, teasing, mind-break, ddlg themes, fingering, possessive sex, rough sex word count: 4,397 summary: your avoid your roommates dad
“When I look at you, my brain goes ahhhhhh. Can't hear my thoughts like blah-blah-blah. I should probably, probably not. Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?”
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“Joel.” He corrects, a little harshly, as his eyes snap to meet yours, seemingly annoyed as his annoyance melts into a soft smile, features relaxing on something undetectable. “Or you can call me dad, don’t mind it.”
Before your mind can turn on any clarity, he continues, “Y’ain’t got one of those I heard, don’t mind bein that for you. Could be a lot for you.”
Homecoming weekend, one of the biggest weekends at your college. Also hosted during the same week of parents’ week, allowing parents to experience their child's college lifestyle and end it together at the big game.
This also meant the week where you avoided being anywhere but in your shared apartment with your college roommate.
She’s great, she’s smart, kind, giving; it’s her dad that worries you.
You first met him on moving day when Sarah had run up to embrace you in a hug so tight you felt you might explode, introducing you to her dad, Joel. Joel Miller.
It shocked you a bit; you expected him to be much older, but Sarah informed you he had her at a young age.
The issue as well was that he was handsome. Wore some flannel with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows to reveal his burly forearms, some white top that showed the top of his chest hair, jeans, boots. Greying hair pushed out of his tanned, freckled face, where his eyes hard set on you, seeking something you still can’t decipher.
“H-hi, mister um, mister miller,” You fumbled over your words, your tongue too fat in your mouth as your face reddened with embarrassment, grateful that Sarah didn’t notice, already headed to the truck reading ‘Miller Brother Construction’
He didn’t say much, only raised a brow, then with a small twitch of a smile as you could feel his gaze set in on your blushing cheeks, “Call me Joel, darlin’.”
Deep southern twang in his throat only weakened your knees a little more as you clutched the moving box in your hand, grateful for your perky mother who appeared behind you immediately introducing herself and jumping into conversation with Joel, allowing you to flee the scene.
Unfortunately, you weren’t aware of how the moving process worked, and neither was your mother, as Joel rolled in with a hand truck, finishing dropping off Sarah’s things upstairs as you barely made a dent in carrying your own boxes up, one by one.
“Need s’me help?” Is offered by a gravely Texan voice in passing as you stack another box onto the living room floor, completely exhausted, sweat gathering at your forehead as you shake your head, ready to decline his services, refusing to embarrass yourself more.
“That would be sooo great, Joel! Thank you.” Your mother speaks instead, in pristine condition, having opted not to help you carry anything, insisting she’d be more useful watching over the items so they don’t get stolen.
“We just don’t have anyone to help us- her dad left us when she was five…” She follows him out, her voice disappearing down the hallway. Mortified that she’s giving your life story to some man met about an hour ago.
“Think your mom likes my dad,” Sarah jokes, beginning to unpack a box.
“She likes any man that moves,” You shrug, used to her maneater antics, causing Sarah to laugh a bit.
“How funny would it be if our parents dated?” Sarah continues, picking up a box to take it down the hall to your shared bedroom.
“Be hilarious.”
Once unpacked, your mother insisted that you all get a drink to celebrate being roommates. Thankfully, Joel declined, saying he’d take a nap before the drive home, which left just the three girls.
“Fuck, forgot my ID,” You mumbled as soon as you got to the lobby.
“Go on, we’ll wait for ya,” Sarah mentioned, before jumping back into conversation with your mother about something.
It was then, after heading up in the elevator, that you opened the door, expecting to see Joel sleeping on your couch, sprawled and sleeping. Instead, once you made your way down the hall, you saw him standing there, back turned, hands in your dresser drawer.
“Joel?” You questioned, a sliver of anxiety up your spine. He could've thought it was Sarah's stuff, an honest mistake.
“Hm?” Is all he offers in return, slipping something out of your drawer, into his front jean pocket before turning over to you.
That similar expression worn when he first saw you is enhanced in a more sinister way, your eyes looking down where a piece of the stolen item hangs out of his pocket. Lace.
Your eyes snap back up as a gulp forms in your throat, avoiding eye contact as you spot your wallet there on your desk, reaching and grabbing for it, murmuring about how you forgot it before turning around and leaving as quickly as you arrived, opting to take the stairs down instead of the elevator, needing to be away from him and fast.
Luckily, the two women don’t notice your facial expression and easily continue their own conversation.
The door was loud when it slammed behind you when you entered. You wondered why he didn’t scatter, hold any shame for what he was doing. Or did he even feel shame? Maybe he wanted to get caught.
You pushed those thoughts, insisting you didn’t want to know, refusing to ever know.
.
.
.
Gratefully, Sarah is organized, noting the days her dad would be here during parents' week on your shared calendar in the kitchen. It also helped to stalk her location to make sure there would be limited interaction between the two of you.
The thought of seeing Joel again makes your stomach swirl with nausea and a hint of desire. Throughout the past month, you’ve found yourself struggling with the basic thought of him.
His voice, his scent, his mighty presence… his hands in your underwear drawer.
You shove him into the creep category; it’s only logical. Despite how your heart beats like a rabbit's in your chest when you think of him, it’s easier to reduce him down to that.
You stayed out of Sarah’s way Thursday & Friday, knowing Joel would be here, busying yourself at the library or bar, happy that you’d be cheering at the Saturday game, the day he’d be leaving.
Luckily, you made it through Thursday & Friday without interaction, despite Sarah insisting that Joel wanted to take you both out since your mom couldn’t make it. You declined, politely, mentioning that you had studies to attend to, which seemed to do the trick.
Saturday consisted of you getting ready at a fellow cheerleader's apartment, nerves wracking around excitement to perform, that’s soon met with disappointment, a deja-vu-like manner, realizing you don’t have your student ID. What can get you into the building.
You check Sarah's location, grateful to see she’s already at the stadium, rushing home to grab it.
You push the door open hurriedly, shutting it behind you to see the man you’ve almost successfully avoided this whole trip.
Jean covered legs spread, glass beer bottle perched on his lap in some dark T-shirt with his hair styled in the same manner from when you first spotted him.
Joel.
You can feel the air punched from your lungs as his eyes catch on you in confusion before a soft smile appears on half his lips, “Long time no see.”
His voice drips with honey, like he’s tempting you. Beckoning you in with a siren song in the form of a southern accent, “Nice get up y’got on.”
You forgot you were even in uniform, a faltering smile worn on your face as you awkwardly grab at your arm, self-soothingly rubbing there as his eyes brazenly observe you, moving over your chest, stomach, legs, checking you out.
“Thought… thought you’d be at the game with Sarah…” you laugh, nervously, avoiding his gaze as your knees knock a bit.
“Headin’in later, she wanted to meet up with some friends,” He takes a swig from his beer, still openly checking you out, his head tilting to the side as he does.
You take that as your sign to leave, get what you came from as you turn on your heel towards the bedroom, “Just um, just forgot my student ID.”
You hear him then, hear him stand once raised off the couch, your pulse quickening as you try to search for your ID, remembering you had it in one of your jacket pockets as you pull it out, only to turn and see Joel in the doorway, blocking your exit.
“Look mighty pretty in that,” He gestures to your outfit, his eyes having darkened from where they were light earlier, his lip slipping between his teeth as he folds his arms over his chest, torn between something.
“Mister Miller-” You start, wanting to know what this is, what’s going on. It can’t be what you think it is. Sarah is the purest person you’ve ever met… He….He is not.
“Joel.” He corrects, a little harshly, as his eyes snap to meet yours, seemingly annoyed as his annoyance melts into a soft smile, features relaxing on something undetectable. “Or you can call me dad, don’t mind it.”
Before your mind can turn on any clarity, he continues, “Y’ain’t got one of those I heard, don’t mind bein that for you. Could be a lot for you.”
You open your mouth to speak once more, desperate to know if this is just a sick dad joke, desiring to question his intentions before he starts again.
“Go on… show me somethin’.” His hand scratches at his beard, casually, as if he hasn’t just said some of the most abhorrent things you’ve ever heard.
“W-what?” You blink back your confusion, feeling slightly dumb throughout this conversation, finding it difficult to keep up with the man before you.
“Show me a move. Didn’t get the college experience, wanna see what the fuss with cheerleadin’s all about.” His shoulders rise and drop, still blocking any form of exit you have.
“Joel. What are you doing…” You finally get the nerve to clarify, despite your voice coming out cracked and hoarse, confusion wracking your brain as he looks to you as if you should know.
He laughs, sweetly. You don’t quite understand how something that sounds so lovely comes from someone so barbarous.
“You that innocent, darlin’? Ain’t a virgin is you?” It's manipulative; you can sense it. You’re a big girl, you know when someone's doing it, but you can’t help but lean into it.
“No…” You cross your arms over your chest, like a frustrated child, irritated that you even granted an answer to that crude question, not knowing why you feel you have something to prove to him.
“Well, to answer yer question, kinda always had a dream to fuck a cheerleader… had Sarah pretty young n’ didn’t get the college experience.” His eyes finally find yours and set deep, looking, reading your reaction that you don’t know how to return.
You don’t know how to say or what to say, if you should reject him, call him disgusting, it’s above you. A piece of you even empathizes with him, knowing he gave a part of his life up to give to Sarah.
“Whatdya say? Make an old man's dreams come true?” His deep voice cuts in through your internal battle as he’s stepping in, past the threshold, closing the door behind him, as if your silence is answer enough, inching closer to you as you take steps back until your body meets your bed.
Your eyes dart around the room, wondering if you should grab a weapon. Would he hurt you? He’s just a dad… a dad approaching you as if you’re a startled horse, taking soft, calculated, measured steps.
“This isn’t right…I- I have a boyfriend,” Your head shakes to the side, finally being able to form a rational thought in his presence.
You’re aware you’re both adults, but something about it isn’t okay. It’s not good. Your own mother has a crush on him, and his daughter- you’re the same age as Sarah. Plus, you’d been seeing a boy for about three weeks now, and finally made it official - wouldn’t be fair to him.
“Don’t go talkin’ yourself out of this- saw that look on your face day I met ya, you want this.” He shakes his head, mimicking your nods in a teasing manner before a smile breaks out over his face once he’s over you, trapping you between his body and the bed.
His hands cup around your face, warm & dry, tugging you up to look at him, where one tear slides out of your eye and down your face, his features soften despite his intentions, “I got you, baby girl, just gotta trust me.”
Your mouth parts open as he leans down, expecting to feel his lips, but instead, his lips find the tear, kissing gently before his tongue comes out to swipe at it, tasting you there.
“Gon’ have some fun, baby,” He murmurs against your cheek, beard brushing the soft skin there before his lips find yours in a hungry, aggressive kiss that has your faces crushing against one another.
You whimper at the force of it, his hands holding your face tightly to him as you taste the beer in his mouth, legs locking as you allow yourself this, hands going up to grasp at his forearms for support.
You feel him inhale, take in your breath as your mouth gasps open, not having expected this. You should say no, you think. Stop, tell him to stop, but his beer-stained lips have yours as his tongue slips into your mouth, opening you wide to receive him as he tastes the remnants of the gum you’d been chewing earlier.
You feel his hands release your jaw, moving down to explore your body as they grip at your neck, urging a soft, whiny whimper before they land at your waist, your stomach, sliding down your body to your thighs.
You’re aware you could break away now, push him off now that he doesn’t have you in a mighty hold, but you decide against it.
His hand moves from the outer part of your thigh, drifting inward as his thick fingers force their way between your legs, feeling up and up until they connect with your covered pussy, urging a unique sound to fly out of your mouth.
“Joel!” you scream in return, attempting to cover it up, feeling a mortified shame knowing your current lover couldn’t make you feel the way Joel is as he maps your cunt, running his fingers over the folds and swirling at your nub that has you grasping onto his shoulders for support.
It’s unexpected, his attention there. Boys your age often opted for their own pleasure and focused on that… the last thing you’d expected was to be touched by someone other than yourself.
“Can feel it, darlin’, feel you soakin’ up my fingers through these shorts,” He chuckles, a deep rumble above you that dives you deeper into your own shame & humiliation, knowing he’s probably done this with Sarah’s friends before, this isn’t new, and you should stop it.
You shouldn’t be one of his playthings…but the way his fingers feel rubbing deep circles on your clit only causes moans to leave your throat as your eyes flutter in ecstasy.
You can hardly form a thought in this state, not realizing that your shorts are tugged, effortlessly as they slide down your legs and pool around your ankles, the air catching on your dripping cunt as Joel hums above you in realization, the only thing grounding you being the press of Joel and the cool air below you.
“No panties, baby? Thought you’d wear those lacey ones…” He teases as you want to react, want to tell him how perverted he is for stealing those, for making a mess of you, but his fingers find your folds, earning a deep groan from you as your head tips back at the contrast of his rough fingers against your petal-like pussy.
Without warning, his fingers move from your nub down and push into your entrance, two thick, hefty fingers forcing their way into your tightness as you clench down on them in mortification, earning a loud cry as you grip him tighter.
“Oh my god,” you whine as he pumps them there, spreading them a bit to spread you below as you blink back tears, your head loling to the side.
“So damn tight. This all for me, baby?” He continues, panting above you, your toes curling as his fingers find a different angle. “Yeah, yeah, it is.”
His fingers pop out of you and up in one motion before pressing to your lips, pushing past them as you gag, confused, still stuck in that high of being finger fucked.
“C’mon, be a good girl for daddy, suck.” He coos softly, his deep voice now delicate.
You aren’t sure what switches in you, what light is flicked on that makes you want to be a good girl for him, his good girl. But it’s turned on as your tongue wraps around his fingers, sucking eagerly, tasting yourself there, hungry and turned on by your pleasure.
You have never tasted yourself, but you can’t help but do it now, licking his fingers clean as he pops them out of your mouth and into his, your brows scrunching on something you can’t decipher as he gets some of your spit on his beard as he does.
“Turn ‘round, face down, ass up,” He instructs, unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans.
You can’t help but remain still, not knowing if this is actually going to happen, if you’re actually about to fuck your roommate's father, makes you let out a strange, silly laugh, feeling properly out of your mind.
“Hey-” He grabs your face with one hand, fingers gripping into your cheeks, peering down into your soul as his eyes search yours, brows going up irritably, not wanting a challenge, “Do it.”
You do. You turn and crawl onto the bed, revealing yourself totally as you bend over, your skirt displaying your full backside without your shorts underneath, as you rest your head on your forearms, arching your back to give him the best angle of you.
“That’s it, that’s daddy’s baby girl,” He coos from behind you as you hear his jeans drop to the floor, knowing that if anyone were to speak about themselves like this, you’d be disgusted, but something about him, about Joel, makes you want to please him. Makes you want to hear his praises.
You hear him, hear the tug of his cock and the sound of the watch on his wrist every time he pumps himself, “Hell of a pussy you got, baby doll, fuckin’ purdy.”
It’s vulgar, it’s gross, but you can’t help but roll your hips, your feet flexing behind you as you know he’s looking right at your presented holes, all his, all for him.
You feel him then, that poke, that poke that jolts and sends you forward a bit, rethinking this whole interaction as his hand meets your hips, pulling you back to him as his tip nudges your entrance.
“C-condom?” You whisper, realizing you would never fuck a college boy without one. You don’t know about Joel, though.
“Don’t need that princess, need to feel my girl.” He hums as his tip catches on your silk wet entrance, pushing in there as your teeth sink into your hand, feeling your hole expand with the press of his hearty cock.
It’s a miserable type of pleasure, being expanded slowly but surely by Joel, feeling his mass bully and create space against your gummy soft walls that hug and squeeze around him, clenching as he pushes and pushes until you both meet your limit, feeling his thighs on you and the curl of hair at the base of his cock.
His pace is ruthless once he’s started, hips rocking back and forth on precise thrusts, his hands digging into the meat of your hips as he pulls you back to meet the slam of his thrusts, baffled screams sounding out into the mattress as you cry.
Truthfully, you’d never been fucked in such a manner. To fuck boys your age meant to mostly be in control and finish after a minute, but Joel, Joel is a wild man as he finds his fill in your burrowed heat, coated in your slickness made just for him.
“Wha’s wrong, baby?” He starts teasing after you begin wailing uncontrollably, hoping neighbors don’t hear and complain, his cock staying pressed deep in you as he offers two more deep thrusts.
“College boys ain’t fuckin you like this? Boyfriend ain’t fuckin you like this?” He mentions softly above you, still taunting you as if he genuinely means it, like he’s asking a real question.
The lewd sounds of your ass slapping against him make you feel shy as you bury your face where he can’t see, not ever experiencing yourself in this state, unaware of how you look.
A harsh slap of your ass alerts you then, your head shooting up as you gasp, feeling his palm print buried into the skin, “Asked you a question, now.”
“No-I-oh god-,” He picks up the pace a bit, almost nuzzling that sweet spot no mans ever made it to as you try to find your words, “Joel, no, no, no one has.”
“Poor baby,” He continues, a deep groan settling into his chest, as his arms reach under you in between your thighs, feeling at your swollen nub there as your legs begin to shake, “Let daddy do it.
It’s unbearable, the press and fill of his magnificent manhood that spreads and fills you like no other, the way pressure is released with the soft maneuvering of his fingers below you, you feel yourself begin to drift out of your mind, wanting to be his, wanting you to make him yours, drooling a bit onto your bed.
It’s not you, it’s whatever's happening to you that has you pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts, moaning into the pillow as your eyes roll back in your skull, needing him to know you want him, you want this, that you’re all his and he can do whatever he wants.
“Just a lil doll for me, ain't you? Lil fuck doll? This what you always wanted, huh?” You can hear him smile from above you as your pushes and his thrusts meet each other on a beautiful rhythm that has him matching the flow with his fingers below you, a symphony in the bedroom.
“Just needed a daddy to make it all better for you, ain’t that right, sweetheart?” He continues as his hips jolt a bit, his precision getting looser with each thrust, as you can feel something building within you, your thighs clattering as you lick at your hand.
“Need daddy to handle it? Make it better?” His pace is relentless as his grip tightens on your hips so tight you think it might bruise, his balls plapping against your skin as they swell with desire.
“Uh-huhhh….” You garble in slow blinks, ready to finish it off.
“Use your words.” He demands, spitting it from above you, not taking your response as valid as you blink back your desire blindness.
“Need daddy to handle it.” You whimper, feeling it then, feeling truly what he is to you and how he makes you feel, like no other, as you clench around him unforgivingly, a cry sounding out between your lips as you grasp blindly for something, feeling Joel's hands come out from behind you as he takes both of yours in his, palm pressed to the back of your hands, interlocking the fingers as he keeps his momentum.
He presses his full body to your backside, feeling him get in as deep as possible, hitting that sweet gooey spot that has you unraveling as his strong, warm hands ground you, your pumping orgasm feeding through every nerve of your body as the sounds escape from you, your body shaking with desire.
He doesn’t speak, going into his stoic disposition as you feel him then coat your cunt with his orgasm, flushing your core with his seed as he groans from above you, pressed as deep as possible, hands gripping yours with strength that has you faltering below him as he collapses over you.
His warm body weight is placed somewhat over you as you find the last of your shared orgasms, crying softly into the bed as he finishes his own in deep, bellowed moans.
You think the world stops, maybe time stands still in some corny way you’ve seen in romcoms. If someone were to ask you your name, you wouldn’t know the answer. All you know is Joel, his deep breaths behind you, the press of his warm skin… just Joel.
Soon, you think, time has escaped you, he’s off of you, murmuring some mentions of praise as your shorts are slid up around your ankles and over your ass, straightening out your skirt to the best of his ability, maybe attempting to make you like new.
You feel him press two kisses to your temple, then, a softness contrasting the brutal fuck from before, humming there how good you’ve been to him… it only makes you want him to use you again.
“Thank you for taking care of this old man- made all my dreams come true.” He murmurs from behind you, his beard scratching on your face as you want to tell him he did the same for you, that he could do it again.
Words fail you when he says he’s late to meet Sarah, asking if you’ll be alright, which you return with a soft nod, your heart breaking on the disconnection between each other.
You can’t say much, finding it hard to speak. You only find the strength to murmur, “Bye-bye, dad.”
Luckily, you have just enough time to fix your makeup and get to the stadium, your mind eventually coming back to you about fifteen minutes after having the daylight fucked out of you.
You ignore the questioning of your fellow cheerers once you arrive, still not totally in your true self. With every cheer on the field, you can feel yourself leak more of Joel from you, unsure if it’s disgusting or rewarding.
Eventually, the team wins, allowing you to make your way to the locker room to see a text from Sarah.
celebration dinner @ Gino’s Dining!
on my dad lol #brokecollegegirls
hurry up were waiting!
tag list: @taniamiller @alitaar @meowmah @shrewdreader @he-is-the-destined @biagaloree
