Just read the sequel to Nasty and I NEED to know what pervy!joel would be like if reader *did* get pregnant by him!!
Full
Summary: The morning-after pill that Joel, your neighbor from your trailer park days, gave you the day you moved out didn't work. Joel, perverted as he is, has chosen to make the most of it.
Pairing: Pervy!DILF!Joel Miller x Pregnant!Reader
Content warnings: MDNI, Joel's got a pregnancy & lactation kink, unspecified age gap, pregnancy, description of pregnant body, pregnancy symptoms, Perv!Joel is capable of vulnerability?, dirty talk, smut, Joel has an exhibitionist thought, fingering, tit/nipple play, eating during sex, orgasm denial, food play, short labor scene, nondescript and brief birth
Word count: 6,864
Read on ao3 | Pervy!Joel Masterlist
Author's note: as much as I loved writing this, this is not canon in the Pervy!Trailer Park!Joel universe. This is just gonna be a fun little "what if?" b/c I don't have any plans for a pregnancy plot in this universe (at least atm), but I feel like it is lowk known on this blog that I am a slut for making a man into a DILF, so this was fun to write! (I went ahead and tagged everyone who wanted to be tagged for Slimy and future pervy!Joel works, but I know pregnancy can spook some people, so if you want to make a caveat to your being on the taglist, lmk) okay I hope everyone enjoys! <3
edit: this is canon in a different universe now. check the Pervy!Joel masterlist
The “U up?” texts from Joel slowly evolve into texts that say “I’m 5 mins away. U better not be wearing panties when I get to ur place” as time goes on with you living in your new house.
It’s around two months after you move into your house that you start getting fatigued, throwing up in the morning, not to mention how swollen and tender your breasts are.
Joel catches on and shows up at your house one night with a pregnancy test.
“Seriously? Joel, it’s just a bug,” you insist as you shove the box back in his hand.
Joel shoves it back in your hand so hard you stumble a little.
“Of course, I’m serious. Now quit bein’ a brat and drop your fuckin’ panties and piss on this thing.”
You roll your eyes and snatch the box, then turn toward your bathroom.
Joel’s on your heels.
You turn around and glare up at him. “What, you got a piss kink all of a sudden?”
He rolls his eyes and pushes you into the bathroom with a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“If I really knocked ya up, I wanna be there when we find out they’re real,” he says, and it’s so surprisingly sweet, you almost drop your frown.
With a mumbled “whatever”, you get on the toilet and go about your business with Joel leaning against the counter across from you, watching intently as you aim your stream on the plastic stick.
As you wash your hands and wait the instructed five minutes, you lean against the counter next to Joel, side by side.
After a moment, he says, “Of course, whatever we do here is your decision. I don’t know if just now I came across as ‘Oh, of course we’re keepin’ the baby.’ I ain’t the one doin’ the damn thing, but I’ll tell ya right now: if you are pregnant, I’ll take good care o’ you and the kid if you decide to keep it. You have my word.”
You don’t respond. You’re too emotional. You just keep staring at the window inside your shower and calmly cover Joel’s hand, which he has braced on the counter with yours.
You hadn’t given much thought to kids before, but maybe it’d be a good thing. You’ve never been opposed, so if the test is positive, why not take a chance?
Joel may be the most perverted man you’ve ever been with, but you know for a fact he’s capable of more.
When the timer on your phone rings, Joel takes a step back from the counter. It’s like he’s giving you the space to do this alone, but also near enough that you know he’ll come closer if you ask.
Joel doesn’t have to look at the test to know. The hitch in your breath and the hand over your mouth give you away.
He shifts his weight uncomfortably, then clears his throat.
“Whatever you wanna do, we’ll do,” he murmurs, his voice gruff. “Don’t let what I want fuck things up for you.”
You look up at him with bleary eyes and shake your head.
“I wanna keep it,” you croak.
Joel’s brows shoot up to his forehead. You’ve only been living in this house for about two months. He thought maybe that was enough big life changes for you in one year.
“Baby, are you sure?”
You nod, placing a hand on your stomach, then glancing down at the test on the counter.
“I had more than enough for this place and the furniture, so I’m…good. And I don’t know, it just feels right,” you explain, your voice wet with emotion.
That’s enough for Joel.
He grabs you by the hips and pulls you in for a hug.
A fucking hug.
You don’t think you’ve ever gotten hugged by this man.
Surprisingly, he’s a good hugger. His arms are secure around your body; his chin is resting on top of your head. You feel safe.
As he loosens his hold on you, he gets down to his knees and kisses your stomach, right below your belly button.
“Your tits are gonna get so huge,” he moans against your skin.
The first trimester is awful, but according to all the research Joel’s been secretly doing, that is to be expected. As you get over the morning sickness and head into the second trimester, Joel realizes he hasn’t even driven by the trailer park in almost two weeks.
You’ve needed him so much just in these first three months. He can’t imagine how much you’ll need him by the end.
His trailer isn’t the place he wants to raise his baby. Yours would’ve worked; you just have this ability to make anywhere feel like home.
Joel’s is worse than a typical bachelor pad. He never married and managed to avoid accidental pregnancies until this point. He’s got a couch, a table with two chairs, and his bed. That’s pretty much it.
In all honesty, you’re the first woman he’s seen consistently for more than a month in maybe twenty years. The last woman was a girlfriend who left him for the president of a fucking biker gang.
In between her and you, it’s exclusively been hook-ups and flings.
Technically, you’re still a hook-up.
At least officially.
He’s 47 years old, and he’s been practically living with the younger woman he got pregnant.
Maybe you already consider you and him as more. Maybe he doesn’t need to bring it up.
Although you’re growing his baby and letting him practically live here. He probably owes it to you to be the one to bring it up.
He’s getting back to your house late one night after a job ran late.
He’d never had to text someone to tell them about having to work overtime. No one’s ever been waiting for him for that to be necessary.
You texted back, telling him not to worry, but to bring you home French fries for your troubles.
So, Joel walks into your bedroom, sawdust clinging to his clothes, with a paper bag full of French fries from your favorite fast food restaurant in one hand and a milkshake in the other hand, figuring you’ll want something sweet to go with the fries.
He hears you finishing up in the bathroom, so he calls out that he’s here.
You open the door and walk out to the bedroom, ravenous for your snack, wearing only panties that have begun to dig into the meat of your hips and a tank top that emphasizes the slight swelling that’s happening in your middle.
“Hi,” you practically chirp as you take the bag of food from him.
“Hey, darlin’. How’s the kid?”
You crawl into bed and pull the covers over your lap.
“Probably fine. Y’know, I’ve still got a month or two before I can feel them,” you remind him as you pop a French fry into your mouth.
You nod at the milkshake in his hand.
“For me or you?”
Joel shakes his head and hands it to you. “Figured you’d want somethin’ sweet, too.”
You smile and gladly take the cup.
He’s a little tense as he stands near the foot of your bed.
“What, are you working up the nerve to tell me you want a night to yourself?” you ask softly.
It’s probably just the hormones, but recently, the thought of sleeping in an empty bed makes you upset. You’ve gotten used to waking up with morning wood pressing against your lower back. You’d miss it if it were gone.
Joel breathes in sharply and shakes his head.
“The opposite,” he mumbles.
You furrow your brow.
He sighs and takes a seat on the edge of the bed.
“My place ain’t the one we wanna raise this kid,” he begins.
You nod.
“Yeah, it’s pretty unsalvageable in the way of child safety,” you murmur, smiling so he knows you’re not judging him.
Joel smiles right back, making the crinkles near his eyes all the more noticeable, which you only find more and more attractive as your pregnancy progresses.
“Anyway,” he continues. “I haven’t been by my place in about a week, I realized today. And we are havin’ this baby together. I don’t know, darlin’. I…I want us to be a family. I didn’t have the best childhood, and I want us to give this kid a real shot. Maybe tryin’ to be a nuclear family is the way to go, maybe it isn’t, but… I think, if you’re up for it, I would like to try.”
You smile and lean back against the pillows.
“I’ll do the math tomorrow and let you know what your half is,” you say.
Joel furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side.
“For the mortgage. And utilities and shit.”
You helped Joel with his taxes last year; you know he’s living below his means in the trailer park and that he has a fat retirement fund as well as some nice savings. He can afford to live in a house; he’s just chosen to stay at the trailer park.
There wasn’t anything pulling him out before. Now there is.
“Honey…”
Joel stops. He doesn’t really know what he could possibly say here. He meant to ask if he could stay with you while he looks for a house nearby, but if you’re offering…
Instead, he leans over your body and kisses you, tasting the salt from the fries on your lips. Then he leans down and kisses your belly.
He moves the two whole boxes of stuff he cares about into your house that weekend.
Once Joel’s moved in and he’s introduced you to his brother, Tommy (who you didn’t even know existed until you were sixteen weeks pregnant), as his girl, the pregnancy goes pretty smoothly.
Granted, Joel’s going through more viagra than he’d like to in order to keep up with your heightened libido. Other than that, he’s never been happier.
Sometimes, your hormones are a lot, and your insecurity about the changes to your body makes its way out, but Joel has honestly never been more attracted to you.
Your breasts, which he loved more than life itself before the pregnancy, have gone up a cup size. The fucking rack on you now is so fucking impressive that he has a hard time not grabbing them even when the two of you go out in public.
Every time the two of you fuck now, he has to see them. As long as he’s gentle with your sore breasts and lowers them carefully when he removes your bra, you don’t mind.
He’s determined to make you lactate before you give birth. He read up on it; apparently, it’s possible if all the stars are aligned. Plus, it’ll get you ahead on milk storage if you decide to pump in addition to letting Joel suck on your nipples. He suckles on your nipples when he’s balls deep in you while you clench and gush on his cock, hoping that the consistent stimulation will produce lactation by the third trimester.
And don’t get him started on your belly.
Seriously. Just watching you grow rounder and rounder while you grow his baby has been a fucking spectacle. He fucking loves your bump.
He’s insisted on taking as many pictures, naked or otherwise, of you as he possibly can. Sometimes, he’ll even set a timer on the camera so he can join. He’s just fucking obsessed with your body.
He was obsessed before; the photos he has saved on his phone from your previous text messages are a good indicator, but now he’s got his baby growing inside of you, and apparently, that’s a big turn-on.
And at this stage of your pregnancy, it truly does match his beer belly in size, just as he predicted on that last night in the trailer park.
At the 20-week ultrasound, he cries.
He’d been nervous all week. The 20-week scan is where you learn the sex, sure. And that’s really exciting, but it’s also where you find out if there are any abnormalities.
You haven’t been too nervous beyond what you’d expect from a woman who’s had a smooth pregnancy so far, but Joel is a wreck.
So when the doctor says the baby is perfectly healthy and right on track, a few tears fall.
You don’t look at him when you feel a warm tear fall on the skin of your chest. You just squeeze his hand tighter and keep your eyes glued to the screen.
“Alright,” the doctor says. “Do the two of you want to know the sex?”
You open your mouth to answer, but Joel, in his excitement, beats you to the punch.
“Yes,” he says emphatically.
The doctor smiles and looks at you to double-check.
“Yes, we would like to know,” you say softly.
The doctor moves the probe on your belly to the side a few more times, then says, “Congratulations. It’s a girl.”
Upon hearing the news, you smile so wide your cheeks hurt, but Joel drops his head on your chest, still holding your hand with both of his.
His shoulders start to shake, and your eyes go wide.
The doctor quickly prints off the ultrasound photos and leaves the room.
You reach for a tissue and wipe the gel off your stomach. The movement jostles Joel, and he looks up at you with red-rimmed eyes.
“What? Don’t tell me you wanted a boy,” you murmur softly as you reach up to wipe his eyes.
He shakes his head.
“I ain’t worthy of a girl,” he mumbles.
Your gaze softens, and you sigh.
“Yeah, you are.”
“No, girls are sweet and dainty, and they need their daddies to be the kinda man who didn’t use to sit on his porch in his boxers, drinkin’ and smokin’.”
He sniffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.
“If you’re worried about deserving her, I think it means you already deserve her,” you whisper.
Joel sniffs, and you reach a hand out again to stroke his cheek. He leans into your touch and sighs.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
As soon as the two of you finish up at the doctor’s office, Joel drags you to the store to pick out pink swatches for the nursery. He picks ten and takes them all home.
You pick your favorite, and he heads back to the store for the appropriate amount of paint and gets to work. He builds the crib himself over the course of three weeks and carves in the words “You are so precious to me, baby mine” on the back rail.
It makes you cry when you see the finished product in the nursery, but Joel kisses you until you’re whimpering from desperation rather than being overwhelmed with awe.
“Yeah? Like seein’ me be a daddy?” he teases in your ear, his hands roaming your belly and your ass. “You know I’m gonna be the best daddy, don’t ya? Yeah, you do. You’re so fuckin’ happy to make me a daddy.”
He fucks you on the floor in the middle of the nursery, which you have some feelings about, but Joel insists it’s some sort of full-circle moment.
As your pregnancy progresses into the third trimester, there are only four things on your mind: eating, sleeping, dreaming about the day this baby is out and you can comfortably take a deep breath, and Joel’s cock.
You go through the motions at work, but your days off and the evenings are spent as hedonistically as possible.
Today, you had a half-day at work. Joel said he’ll be stuck in the office doing paperwork most of the day.
Perfect.
You show up at lunch time with burgers and milkshakes in a dress that barely covers your ass.
“What is your pretty little ass doin’ here?” Joel asks with a smirk plastered on his face as he looks up.
“Half day at work,” you say softly as you set the food down.
The “office” isn’t private. It’s a trailer with a few desks inside. Anyone could walk in. They probably won’t, but they could.
For some reason, the idea of one of the guys on the crew walking in and seeing Joel fuck his heavily pregnant girlfriend is incredibly appealing to him.
“Does my baby mama need some company?” Joel croons as he stands to grab a chair for you.
You bite back a smile and don’t say anything. You just let him help you sit and go about eating your burger.
Under the desk, you let your flip flops slide off your feet. You start caressing his shin with your foot.
Joel looks at you through his lashes but doesn’t say anything.
He undoes his belt, holding eye contact with you while you chew, then shucks his jeans down mid-way down his thighs.
He pats his lap, and you wordlessly round the desk and straddle him, your burger still in hand.
Joel rubs his hands over the expanse of your belly, the fabric of your dress soft on his palms. One hand travels lower to palm your cunt, and when he’s met with your damp pubic hair, he cocks a brow. The other hand moves up to circle his thumb around your nipple through the fabric of your dress.
“You’re pretty slutty for a pregnant woman,” Joel whispers, the smirk from when you walked in still present on his face. “No panties, dress barely covers your ass, can see your nipples through your dress… What kinda mother-to-be are you?”
You lean down and kiss his cheek.
“The horny kind,” you mumble against his skin.
Joel pushes a finger into your entrance with ease, given how wet you are. You moan softly, increasing in pitch when he abruptly adds a second.
He moves his fingers in and out until he can feel you’re close. That’s when he takes them out and sucks them clean.
Carefully, he lowers your dress, exposing your swollen, engorged tits. You whimper softly, and he immediately dives in, peppering them with kisses.
“I don’t know how you expect me to share these with the baby,” he mumbles around your nipple as he begins to suckle on it.
You scoff and pull him off by yanking his hair.
“Don’t be a dick.”
Joel huffs and pinches your ass in retaliation for the hair pulling.
You huff right back and lean forward for a kiss, though it’s more bite and growl than kiss.
He pulls back with a low grunt and sighs.
“Eat your food and lemme fuck you,” he says, and he’s not asking.
Joel positions his cock at your entrance and pushes you down on it by your hips.
You cry out, and Joel immediately starts thrusting up into you.
“These baby hormones must have you fucked up, huh, mama?” he rasps, keeping a firm grip on your ass as he ruthlessly fucks up into you. “They got you puttin’ on your skimpiest clothes, comin’ to my office to fuck in the middle of my goddamn work day. You need your baby daddy bad, huh?”
You whimper and moan, “Mm, the dress wasn’t skimpy before you knocked me up.”
He laughs softly and leans forward to take a bite out of the burger.
“Point still stands,” he mumbles around the food in his mouth.
Joel takes the burger from your hand and tosses it on the desk behind you.
“Need you focused,” he says.
“Focused?” you gasp, your hands scrambling for purchase on the collar of his plaid button-up.
He doesn’t respond; he just dives back in on your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple, which has you throwing your head back in pleasure.
“Joel, you’re gonna…”
“Gonna what?” he mumbles around your nipple.
Your breasts suddenly feel heavier, and you swear they’re tingling.
“Joel.”
A warning, but to what, you don’t know.
You say his name so quietly that he doesn’t hear you; he’s too enraptured by your tit in his mouth, and he swears your skin is flushing.
Joel scoops you up, his hands firm under your thighs, and sits you on the edge of his desk so he can get a better angle to fuck you.
In the midst of all the movement, Joel doesn’t realize what’s just happened, but you do.
You pull him off you by his hair, and it’s all over his face, dripping down your breast.
You’re not sure what to say. You’re already extremely aware that Joel was waiting for this to happen, and if the half-lidded look in his eyes is any further indication, it’s safe to say he’s pleased.
“You’ve got a milk mustache,” you mutter softly.
Joel lets out a laugh so loud, you’re almost tempted to cover his mouth.
He looks down at the white liquid dripping down your body, and the smile is almost fond, like he’s laying eyes on an old friend.
“You’re amazin’, y’know that?” he says softly.
You give him a sweet smile.
“Can I keep fuckin’ you?”
You nod, and Joel’s thrusts pick up again while his hands fondle your breasts, teetering on the edge of practically expressing your milk with his hands.
“D’ya want a taste?”
Your eyes practically bug out of your head, and Joel laughs again.
“I guess we’ll work ya up to that.”
He doesn’t harp on it; he just starts fucking into you so hard, you swear your cervix will be bruised by the time you walk out of here. He hikes the skirt of your dress up so now the fabric is bunched up at the top of your belly. Joel keeps groping your breasts and rubbing your belly and thrusting in and out of you.
Joel is determined to make this a good experience for you, especially after you just lactated for the first time.
“You’re a fuckin’ dream, y’know that?” he croons. “This rack, and now it’s makin’ milk. This belly… God, I swear there ain’t a hotter pregnant woman in the whole state of Texas, darlin’. Hell, probably the fuckin’ country, if not the world.”
“Oh, the world?” you scoff, smiling.
He nods like it’s very important business that the two of you are discussing.
“Oh, yeah. Baby, the way you look all full o’ me,” he hums, his hands gliding over your gravid stomach. “Jesus H. Christ… Knowin’ ya look like this because I blew my load in this sweet pussy… I swear, if I were 20 years younger, I’d be rock hard all the time just thinkin’ about it.”
You can only whimper in response, and that’s when Joel finally brings his finger to your clit.
“Joel, I’m gonna… Jesus, fuck,” you whimper.
“Yeah, I know. That’s kinda the point here, mama,” Joel grits through his teeth. “I’ll go with ya.”
You come with a shaky gasp, and Joel’s right behind you, filling you up to the brim.
Once Joel starts softening inside of you, he pulls out and cleans you up with the takeout napkins you brought. He kisses your breasts and your belly before he readjusts your dress.
He sits down and leans back in his chair, admiring the view of you perched up on his desk.
“I’ll just keep ya like this,” he declares with a contented sigh as he tucks his now soft dick away. “All swollen and full. It’s a good look on you, sunshine.”
You let out a breathy laugh. “That sounds sadistic. I mean, you saw me waddle in here.”
Joel smirks and shakes his head.
“You love bein’ all full o’ me. Don’t sit there and say the cons outweigh the pros,” he says, reaching his hands out to caress the tops of your thighs.
He leans forward and kisses your belly, then his chair scrapes against the floor as he gets even closer to the desk, now wrapping his arms around your hips and rubbing his face against your bump.
“Say you love it. Admit it,” he mumbles.
You sigh and run your hands through his soft hair.
“Say. It,” Joel says again, his voice muffled by your stomach.
“I guess there are worse things,” you mumble softly.
“Worse than what?”
He won’t give up.
“There are worse things than…carrying your baby,” you mutter through half-closed lips.
“Mm, you’ve almost got me pleased,” he hums, raising his head to look at you more closely. “Be more specific, honey.”
“I…love being full of you. I love carrying your fucking seed inside me, and I love that everyone knows it’s you who made me this way,” you say, speaking softly and breathily.
Joel smiles, a real toothy grin, and squeezes your hips.
“Good girl. I could really feel that one,” he says, bringing a hand to his heart.
You huff out a breathy laugh and shake your head.
“I gotta go home. Baby wants a nap,” you say, sliding off Joel’s desk.
Joel scoots back, getting out of your way, and grabs your purse for you. He helps you down the steps and keeps his hand at the small of your back as he walks you to your car.
Once you’re in the driver’s seat, Joel leans his head down and kisses your bump.
“You be good to your mama, baby girl. Take it easy on her. Love you.”
Another kiss, then he straightens up and kisses your cheek.
“Drive safe.”
The rest of your third trimester is relatively the same: filled with naps, food, sporadic deep breaths, and Joel fucking you at your whim.
At the final checkup, which falls on your due date, your doctor informs you that it’ll probably be another week before the baby decides to make her appearance.
“More than half of first-time moms go past their due date,” your doctor tells you. “In this pamphlet, there is a list of a few methods used to induce labor, sex being the most effective.”
The doctor hands you the pamphlet, and you don’t even have to look over your shoulder; you can feel how big Joel is smiling at that news.
As Joel drives you home, you go through the list.
Membrane sweep. You literally got that done today.
Eating dates. Joel got some yesterday after reading about them inducing labor. You ate five this morning.
Nipple stimulation. Joel literally hasn’t stopped groping your tits since the day you started lactating.
Sexual intercourse. You haven’t let Joel get in your pants in a week. You’ve been too uncomfortable.
But right now, with your unborn daughter getting way too comfortable and way too big for your womb to contain her much longer, 15 minutes of slight discomfort paired with an orgasm sounds pretty damn good.
Joel pulls into the driveway and parks next to your car. He kills the engine and hops out, rounding the hood to open your door and help you out.
Once the two of you are inside the house and Joel’s got his back turned while he locks the door, you blurt out, “You have to fuck me.”
He turns around, his brows pinched, and you can tell he’s fighting back a smirk.
“Oh, do I?”
You nod, already pulling your sweatpants down.
“Joel, we’ve tried everything else. I’m not going overdue. If this kid isn’t out of me by tonight, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He was ready to tease you and make you beg for it, but the look in your eyes right now and the echo of how hard it is for you to even get off the couch these days make him change his mind.
Joel takes a few steps forward, then gently reaches out to grab your chin and put your gaze right on him.
“Get naked and on the bed. I’m in charge of gettin’ this baby outta you. Got it?”
You can’t tell if you’re nodding of your own volition or if Joel is moving your head for you. Either way, when he lets go of your chin, you head to your bedroom, and Joel stays behind for a moment. Either to build anticipation or actually do something productive.
When Joel joins you in the bedroom, he’s got the bottle of chocolate syrup from the fridge in his hand.
Your eyes widen, and Joel just smirks as he steps further into the bedroom.
“I’ve been havin’ this milk straight up for weeks now, darlin’,” he begins, kneeling on the edge of the bed now. “And don’t get me wrong, mama, it’s good. But a man can want a little variety, can’t he?”
You’re stunned.
You’re actually fucking stunned.
Here you are, asking for what is essentially a mercy fuck with the sole purpose of inducing labor, and your baby daddy wants to, what, pour chocolate syrup on your nipples so it mixes with your breastmilk?
He’s crawling up the bed, hovering over you, and popping the cap off the bottle.
“We should have some fun before we become responsible parents. One last kinky hurrah before we’ve got a screamin’ baby interruptin’ us every five minutes,” Joel murmurs softly.
Surprisingly, you’re on board with what he’s saying.
“Okay,” you whisper.
“Yeah?” he coos.
You nod your head, and Joel leans the bottle against your hip while he gets out of his clothes. When he picks the bottle back up and angles it over your left nipple, he looks at you one more time. When you nod again, he gently squeezes the bottle, and the two of you watch as the chocolate syrup lands on your areola.
Joel clears his throat and furrows his brow just a little, obviously fighting the urge to forget about everything and start licking you. His cock, hanging heavy between his legs, is twitching.
You let out a soft whimper and feel the telltale signs that you’re about to start leaking, even though it’s obvious that’s exactly what Joel wanted here.
He pours syrup over your other nipple, then shuts the cap and puts it on the nightstand.
His cock is throbbing and aching, and he can’t take his eyes off of you.
“Baby, this is… Wow,” he husks.
You’re breathing heavily and staring at Joel’s erection, and then you feel the milk start to leak from you, and Joel lets out an impossibly pathetic whine.
“Can I…? Baby, please?” he whimpers.
You nod, and he doesn’t waste any time diving in.
Joel wraps his lips around your nipple and groans against you. The chocolate syrup mixed with your breastmilk is everything he imagined and more. It’s sweet, it’s rich, it’s a little tangy, somehow.
He can feel your chest heaving beneath his mouth, and he’s so fucking grateful he’s making you feel good.
He sucks your nipple clean, then moves onto the next one, and the process is the same.
Once Joel has licked your chest clean, he kisses down your belly, worshipping it, as if he’s saying goodbye, and you hope to whatever God there is that he is.
You hope he fucks you so good that your water breaks on his cock.
“Baby, your milk mixed with chocolate… Holy shit,” he mumbles against your belly. “Best fuckin’ thing I ever tasted. The fact that you… Mm, shit, sunshine. You’re incredible. Gonna miss this when it goes.”
“Miss what?” you ask, your hands now playing in his hair.
Joel sighs against your skin and presses a kiss to you before peeking his head over your belly.
“You, all pregnant and full and swollen and leaking… In all honesty, I once watched a porno where the lady was expectin’. I don’t know why, but at the video store, that’s what looked most enticin’ that night. It was, like, ten years ago. I don’t know, the way this woman carried… I had never really given pregnancy much thought before. The way her, I guess, scene partner fucked her and talked to her really got to me. I never… I don’t know, honey, I never thought I’d have this. Never thought I’d get to bear witness to this, a beautiful woman, my beautiful woman, growin’ life. It’s amazin’.”
That last part chokes him up a little, though his erection is still maintained.
This fucking guy.
“Joel, how do you manage to say the grossest stuff and follow it up with the sweetest shit?” you murmur, wiping your eyes so tears don’t fall.
He smiles softly and braces his hands on either side of your head, then leans down to kiss your lips.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. A real goddamn smokeshow. You’re carryin’ our baby so pretty. But I know ya ain’t taken a deep breath in about a month, so I’m gonna fuck this little girl outta ya now. Okay?”
You nod, and he kisses your cheek, then starts rubbing your clit.
When he inserts two of his thick fingers, it doesn’t take long for you to climax.
Joel then lubricates his cock with your arousal, then swipes up some of the breastmilk that’s leaking down your chest to add to his shaft.
He slides in with ease, then reaches for one of the pillows and shoves it under your hips.
“Comfy, mama?” he asks, his voice raspy.
You can tell he’s holding back, his desire to keep you comfortable battling with his instinct to pound into you as hard as he can.
“I’m good, daddy,” you reply, smirking when his gaze darkens at the sound of the moniker on your lips.
“Can I move?”
When you nod, Joel begins to slowly rock his hips back and forth. His hands caress your thighs and squeeze your hips.
Your hands palm your breasts and tweak your nipples.
“Joel, you feel so good,” you whine. “Fuck, I can’t believe this cock put a baby in me.”
Joel lets out the most pathetic whine. He seriously sounds like someone just reached through his ribs and grabbed his heart.
His breathing speeds up, and the grip he has on your hips tightens.
“Don’t say that,” he pants, bringing a finger to your clit.
“Why?” you moan breathily.
“Because I’ll finish before this is over, and I’d rather die than do that right now,” he grits out.
You sigh and don’t respond. You’re just here for the ride.
“God, woman… Can’t wait to put another in you.”
That’s the last straw, what snaps the coil inside of you. You gush around Joel’s cock and feel your breasts leak more milk as Joel fucks you through your climax. The thought of doing this again, for him, despite your current discomfort, is fucking thrilling.
He follows shortly, coming with a rough grunt, spilling his seed deep inside of you.
He leans down and kisses your belly, and his lips are met with the poke of a hand or a foot.
After Joel pulls out, he heads into the bathroom for a washcloth to clean you up, which he does as gently as possible. Once he’s finished, he sits on the edge of the bed beside you, his hand roaming your stomach.
“I bet that’s what’s gonna do it,” he says softly.
You smile and cover his hand with yours.
“I hope so. Will you help me up? I wanna shower.”
Joel obliges and even gets in with you, doing all your washing for you.
Once the two of you get out, he rubs lotion and oil on your body while you handle your skincare.
It’s not even noon yet, and it’s a Saturday. Joel drags you downstairs and parks you on the couch while he gets started on lunch.
All he can think about is getting some good food in you, in hopes that you’ll go into labor soon, and his food will be enough to sustain you.
He doesn’t like feeling useless, and the more he thinks about your imminent labor, the more useless he feels. All he’ll be able to do is hold your hand and tell you how good you’re doing and how proud he is of you.
You say that’s enough, but Joel disagrees. He thinks he should snap his fingers and make the baby just magically appear in your arms, automatically shrink your stomach back down (though the latter is more for you than him), and save you the trouble. That would be enough.
He sits and eats with you on the couch, watching you balance your plate on top of your bump. It’s the cutest fucking thing Joel’s ever seen, and he’s beside himself that he won’t get to see it after today (hopefully but not hopefully).
Joel takes the dishes to the sink when you’re both done, and as he helps you stand from the couch, it happens.
It’s not a big splash; there’s just a wet spot in the crotch of your sweatpants, and it’s getting bigger.
“It’s not piss,” you murmur softly.
Joel’s first instinct is anxiety. His second is to say, “Well, ain’t my cock a miracle worker?”
You look up at him and glare, scoffing as you shake your head.
“Asshole. Go get me some clean pants.”
Joel rolls his eyes and heads to the bedroom to retrieve some clean pants, as well as a towel.
When he gets back to the living room, he kneels in front of you.
He’s eye level with your crotch, and as he helps you get your feet through the pants and pulls the elastic up, he gets the impulse to kiss your mound, like he’s sorry he came inside you and that the morning-after pill didn’t work, and now it has to spread wide enough to deliver his baby.
You laugh softly when he kisses your crotch, but you don’t say anything.
In the car on the way to the hospital, Joel keeps both hands on the wheel. Normally, he keeps one on your thigh, but right now he’s so nervous about crashing or swerving, so he’s got both hands on the wheel at ten and two.
As soon as you get settled in the room, the contractions start. Your breathy moans of pain make Joel’s stomach churn.
He holds your hand and whispers in your ear how strong you are, how good you’re doing.
The nurse suggests that you go for a walk around the maternity ward. Joel keeps his arm steady as you hold onto it, sometimes burying your face in the sleeve of his plaid flannel when the contractions peak.
After the second lap, you steer the two of you toward the nurse’s station and request an epidural. The charge nurse informs you that the anesthesiologist just has two patients ahead of you, so it’ll be a 20-30 minute wait.
You nod and start to walk another lap, Joel’s bicep still clenched in your hand. It’s not that long. Your contractions are five minutes apart, so a 20-30 minute wait will only be around 4-6 contractions, but that’s 4-6 times where Joel gets a lump in his throat and feels utterly useless as you breathe through the pain.
After about ten minutes, you head back to the room. You bend over and brace your hands on the edge of the bed. You let out a soft groan, and Joel puts his hands on your hips, rubbing his thumbs into your lower back.
It’s only for a moment, and he can’t help it, but he almost thrusts his hips against your ass. Thankfully, he catches himself in time, but he can’t help the smirk on his face at the thought, even though you’d probably kick him out of the room if he hadn’t stopped himself.
Once you straighten up and sigh, Joel leans down and kisses your temple.
“Doin’ so good. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll be all loopy and happy.”
Joel ends up being more scared of the epidural needle than you are. He kneels in front of you while you sit on the edge of the bed. He keeps your hands in his and keeps his gaze on your eyes.
Once the epidural is administered, you lie back and finally begin to feel better.
Joel settles in the chair beside your bed and holds your hands for hours.
At 11:00 PM, the doctor tells you it’s finally time to push. You’ve heard that pushing can take hours, so you’re convinced the baby will come after midnight, technically being a day late, but to your surprise, she’s born at 11:48 PM.
You finally loosen your grip on Joel’s hand and let out a sob when the doctors place her on your chest.
Joel lets silent tears roll down his face as he leans down to kiss your sweaty temple and place a hand over yours on your daughter’s back.
“She’s perfect,” he whispers in your ear.
Your baby is still wailing, but she’s beginning to calm down on her mother’s chest with her father nearby, willing to do anything to protect his girls.
“I got you. I promise.”
You look up at Joel through bleary eyes and smile.
“I know,” you whisper, nodding your head.
When Joel leans down to kiss his daughter’s head, her cries finally die down to soft whimpers, like she already knows there aren’t any other people in the world she’d be safer with.
taglist: @person-005 @marty-mccunt @saralovesjoelmiller @svrgs-blog @upintheclouds95 @pleurspetal @wildthyng @hystericalanduseless9 @exstazeey @bisexualmiserybaby @chewie-bars @mabelmiller @hoziersguitarr (if you would like to be removed from or added to the pervy!Joel taglist lmk)
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