Valentine’s Week Marathon
Day I - Midwestern Hospitality
Summary: When a melting college dad knocks on your door looking to get buzzed into the apartment, you use the time before his daughter gets in to show him some Midwestern Hospitality.
Pairing: Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader
Word Count: 4,769
Warnings: Minors please do not interact, 18+ content below | Stranger sex, Unprotected P in V, Implied Age-gap, choking, breath-play, Doggy, Vulgar language
Author: Barnes
Author Notes: Hey y'all I think I cooked with this one. I wrote half of it months ago and when i reread it I made myself blush, so if that speaks for how filthy it is, you're welcome. So willing to make a part II where he comes back. LMK what you like, dislike, always open to some good ol crit. Need this old man bad. ~ Barnes 🚬🗿
You sink into the couch in your apartment’s living room, clad in a thin tank top and loose cotton shorts. Skin sticking slightly to the cushions despite the temperate cool of the room. The air conditioning purrs steadily in the background, a low comforting hum that's done its best to stave off the sweltering heat outside. It's nearly twenty degrees cooler here than it is on the scorching asphalt outside your walls, but with the sun pouring in through the wide glass window and front door, it still hovers around a stubborn eighty-four degrees.
Just as you're beginning to melt further into the couch, a bead of sweat caresses the back of your neck, eyes falling closed, the doorbell rings suddenly, jarring the silence in the room. You sigh dragging yourself upright, peeling your slightly damp and warm skin from the cushions with a soft unpleasant unsticking sound. The air feels thick, clinging to you as you shuffle towards the door.
Through the glare of the sunlight on the glass you spot a man standing outside, tall, broad, unmoving. His brow knit tightly, crow’s feet creasing as he squints in the sun. Worn jeans, and a faded shirt stretched across the broad expanse of his solid frame. His hair was messy, salt and pepper, slick and stuck to his forehead with sweat. He doesn't ring the bell again, just waits for you to answer, a phone in his hand.
You open the door halfway peeking your head out, shielding the sun from your eyes with the back of your hand, giving him a quick. “Hi, how can I help you?”
“Hey, uh hi, I’m Joel. Sorry to bother you.” He says voice low and rough, thick with a Texan drawl and a thread of irritation he's trying to keep in check.
He holds up the phone tapping the screen.
“My daughter lives in the building, apartment six, Miller, Sarah Miller. Been tryin to get her on this damn phone for twenty minutes. Would you be so kind and just buzz me I-”
His sentence cuts off as a girl’s voice crackles through his phone speaker. “Hey dad, sorry I'm not home right now, I’ll be back in an hour or so, already on the road.”
Joel sighs, slow and exasperated, thumb already moving to hang up the call “Course she picks up now.” He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks back at you hanging up his phone, his expression apologetic. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to trouble you. I'll just go wait in my truck. Have a good one.”
He turns with a curt nod, but you glance past him, the shimmer of the heat reflecting off the hood of his pickup, practically vibrating. One hundred and four. No breeze. You could cook an egg on the asphalt.
You stop him.
“You're not sitting in your truck in this heat. No offense but I doubt your AC works.” You say flatly, already holding the door open wider. “Come on in. AC’s not the best but it's something.”
Joel turns, hesitating for a second, “Nah,” he says, voice rough edged. “Anybody teach you stranger danger, kid? You don't need to be lettin folks in your place. I’d give my daughter the same advice.”
He gives you a pointed look. “Kindness ‘ll get you hurt if you're not careful.”
You cross your arms, unmoved. “So will heatstroke, and I don't think that’s something someone at your age could power through.”
You notice the greys in his hair and beard, the slight limp in his gait, the thick pads of his hands, and scarred knuckles from a lifetime of physical labor.
He huffs a short laugh through his nose. Scratching the back of his neck again, he glances toward your door then back to his truck, as if seriously considering walking back to the brand-hot seat buckles and roasting leather.
“Look,” you say, tilting your head, “you're not some creep lurking in the bushes. I heard your daughter over the phone. You're just waiting, and I'm not gonna be the reason you end up roasting in the cab of that bucket of bolts.”
Joel sighs, letting his shoulder slump forward for a second, the burning heat of the sun singeing his skin, “Alright,” he mutters. “But only for a little, ain't fixin’ to intrude.”
Joel steps cautiously into the apartment, his boots heavy on the living room floor. He glances down at the carpet, then back up at you, brows raised.
“You want me to take these off?’ He asks, nodding towards his boots.
“Yeah, please.” You say, already heading towards the connected kitchen. “Carpet’s a pain to get cleaned.”
He grunts an understanding sound, kneeling stiffly to unlace them, setting them neatly next to your shoe rack.
“You want something to drink?” You call over your shoulder. “Water, Lemonade?”
You hear the faint thud of boots hitting the floor as he straightens up. “Water’s fine, don't wanna take advant-”
“Too late,” you interrupt with a smirk. “You're already inside.”
When you return with the glass, he's standing just a step from the couch, looking more reluctant than welcomed.
“You know, you've got a weird way of showing hospitality, little lady.” He says as you hand him the drink. He gives you a dry look. “You always this trusting (and abrasive), or am I just lucky?”
You shrug, a slight smile playing on your lips. “It’s midwestern hospitality, I guess. My mom would feed any stray as long as it knocked first and asked nicely.“ You shoot him a quick wink.
That earns you a small chuckle as he finally eases down on the couch carefully. Looking as if he was afraid to break it. You sit next to him, two cushion lengths away, one leg tucked under the other, the fabric of your shorts riding slightly higher than intended. The small talk begins. Easy stuff. Your name. Where he's from, how long his daughter's lived here, what she majors in at the local university, and most of all what the hell this heatwave thinks it's doing.
As the conversation continues to flow, you catch yourself watching him, like really watching him. The way his forearm flexes when he sets his glass down onto your coffee table. His tanned skin, worn muscle dancing under faded scars. Once again you note the scruff lining his jaw, streaked with grey, framing a mouth far too nice for someone who frowns so much. His voice, slow and deep, hums low in your ears even when you aren't focusing on the words.
As he spoke, you could have sworn he was checking you out too. He glances at you mid sentence, hesitating for a second. You notice his gaze drops just briefly as you stretch your legs out across the cushion. His eyes linger a bit too long on the curve of your thigh, and the soft sheen of your skin in the warm light.
He blinks, then shifts in his seat, clearing his throat softly. You don't say anything, neither does he.
You stretch your legs a little farther across the couch, the fabric of your shorts inching up with the movement. As the AC hums lazily, not doing much against the slow crawl of the afternoon heat, but it’s enough to keep things tolerable.
Joel sits just off to the side, leaned forward with his forearms on his knees, water glass resting between his hands. His shoulders are still a little damp from the walk in, and his shirt clings in spots to the shape of him, solid, and worn in.
You catch the faint strip of pale skin on his ring finger when he lifts the glass.
“You married?” You ask, voice casual, like you’re tossing the question out just to pass the time.
Joel glances at his hand, then back at you. “Was.”
A pause. Then softer, “She passed.”
You nod slowly, eyes dropping to your glass. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs, an air of acceptance about him. “Been a long time, took me a while to finally take it off.”
The room settles into a quiet beat, not awkward, just the two of you. You glance at his hand again, at the faint ring of skin that’s still clinging to memory.
“That tanline’s stubborn,” you murmur.
Joel gives a short, wry laugh. “Yeah. Guess it stuck around longer than she did.”
You look at him. There’s humour in the way he says it. The kind of jokes only allowed after the test of time.
“You don’t really seem like someone who stays alone for long.” You say, lips curling slightly.
He raises a brow. “No?”
You shrug again, slower this time. “You’ve got that quiet, capable thing going on. That usually comes with someone waiting at home.”
Joel leans back a little, arm stretching out along the back of the couch. His fingers brush the cushion behind your shoulders, not close enough to touch but not far either. His gaze lingers on your face, then drifts lower, slowly, deliberately.
“And here I thought I was just drippin’ sweat and takin’ up space.” He says, voice lower now, quiet and dry.
Your eyes flick up to meet his, and the air between you tightens slightly. The fan clicks softly overhead, the only thing moving in the room.
“You clean up alright.” You say, smirking at him. “Not bad for someone who almost melted in the parking lot.”
He watches you for a moment longer, then his eyes slide downward, taking in the curve of your thigh where your skin catches the sun, the slow shift of your chest as you breathe. His tongue darts out, catching on his bottom lip.
“I try, although the heat's got me off my A game.” He murmurs, but his voice has a rougher edge now, clearly a bit flustered from the rare event of a compliment.
You tilt your head slightly, a smile tugging at your mouth. “You still hot?”
His eyes meet yours again, holding. Steady. Heavy. He pauses, gaze flicking to your lips, then lower again, this time bolder, lingering on the bare skin of your chest, the curve of your waist beneath your tank.
“Yeah,” he says, voice raspier now. “A little.”
The silence that follows stretches out like a pulled thread. Neither of you move, but everything feels closer. Tighter.
You can hear the shift of his breath, the weight of his eyes sunk into your skin like memory foam, your own pulse starting to drum beneath your hot flesh.
Joel doesn’t dare to take his eyes off of you. Both your hearts are beginning to race now. You feel yours hammering steadily and growing faster.
Joel’s jaw tenses slightly, a subtle shift in his throat as he swallows. His grip tightens slightly around the water glass, though it hasn’t moved in minutes.
You’re aware of every inch between you.
And then you move.
Without even thinking, you shift forward and slip right into his lap, knees bracketing his thighs. It’s smooth, easy, like you’ve done it before, like this was always the way. Your hands find his shoulders, loosely resting there, they were taught like a piano wire.
Joel’s breath catches, a sharp inhale through his nose. His hand practically tosses the glass on the table then goes instinctively to your hips, not pulling you in but not pushing you away either. Just holding you, grounding himself.
He blinks once, slowly. “You sure?” he asks, voice low and rough, edged with restraint that’s barely holding. The growing bulge in his jeans presses against you impatiently.
You nod, your fingertips grazing the back of his neck, your chest brushing his. “Yeah.” You say softly, eyes fixed on him. “You?”
His hands tighten, finally drawing you in that extra inch. He groans inwardly, his voice coming through in a murmur, heavy and thick.
“I was tryin’ real hard to be a gentleman.” He says, breath warm against your cheek, “but you’re not makin’ it easy.”
You feel his restrained, hardening cock jump, throbbing almost painfully. The sensation sent a wave of excitement through your body, hips stuttering slightly in response to his words.
You smile, lips just shy of his. “I’m not trying to.”
He can't resist. Now that you were closer he could smell the way your perfume mixes with your natural scent. He could just devour you.
His body shifts into gear. Catching your lips, his facial hair rough against your skin.
You kiss him back hungrily, his lips feel soft, becoming damp as you run your tongue along them briefly, his coming to meet yours. They move in tandem, trading positions as you melted into him. You couldn't help but groan as he nipped at your bottom lip.
His hands find the hills of your ass, giving it a rough squeeze. He pulls your hips down against him, rocking you back and forth.
The seam of his jeans grind into your wanting cunt, the thin fabric of your shorts failing to contain how deliciously wet you are. Your breath catches as your moan reverberates in his mouth.
His large hands rub up and down your thighs, as you move together. He lets out a groan, his throat vibrating as his fingers dance around the dampened edge of your bottoms.
Your hands find his hair, nails dragging against his scalp, as you revel in the feeling of his hard cock beneath you. You wish you could see it, it felt big, nice and solid.
As if he read your mind, he halts your movements, sliding you up his knees a bit, undoing his belt, the buckle making a frantic metallic clinking as he throws it to the side, letting it hang against his hip.
You pant slightly, as you break apart, missing the feeling of his lips. You angle your head down, biting your lip as your eyes land on his bulge.
You help, your hands gently cupping the denim wrapped print, before taking down the zipper.
He sighs, his cock jumping, it strains against his boxers, a dark spot forming at the tip where pre-cum begins to leak through the fabric.
You bend forward, catching his lips once more. His hand cupping your face, as he guides yours across his lap.
Your hand wraps around his clothed cock, your fingers unable to meet around the circumference. A slow and methodical swipe of your thumb over the wet fabric elicits a low rumbling moan from Joel.
You stroke slowly, your lips moving against him at the same pace. You could feel the thrum of your own heartbeat between your legs, pussy aching from hearing the sounds he makes.
His shirt rode up exposing a salt and pepper happy trail leading to exactly where his body yearned for you.
Your fingers breach the fly of his boxers, the hard flesh of his cock smooth, save for the hair that enveloped the top of his cock and a few stray veins. You pull it through the fabric, springing it free.
Breaking the kiss you insert a few fingers into his mouth, before dropping a string of spit on your wet fingers.
“Dirty girl.” Joel growls.
Although, you want desperately to keep your eyes trained on how it jumped and throbbed against your palm. Without hesitation you lock eyes with the man underneath you, drinking in the vulnerability in his eyes just before they rolled to the back of his skull. He bucked into your hand, his cock leaking as you tease it.
His hand fisted into your hair, pulling forward slightly. You moan as he reconnects the kiss, his teeth tugging your bottom.
“Shit, Honey.” He hissed as you drag your thumb over the tip continuously, smearing around the pre-cum.
He reaches his hand into the back of your shorts gripping your asscheek. The force spreads your pussy slightly. Goosebumps erupting over your flesh, you whimper into his mouth.
He lets out a growl, swiftly laying your back. Your hand still pumped his cock as he hovered above you. He grabbed your wrist, pining one then the other above your head with one hand. The weight of his body pressed your body into the couch beneath you, your own body heat reflecting back through the worn leather.
His knees knocked your legs wider as he settled his hips against yours. His hard cock breaching the soaked fabric of your shorts. No underwear, it's almost like you were ready for a handsome stranger to stuff you full of cock. His slick tip smears around your juices. You could feel the heartbeat in his cock, each throb reminds you of the hot blood coursing through his veins.
It took all of his willpower not to sink into you immediately. Slowly, he dragged it back and forth through your folds eliciting a whimper over the sound of soaked pussy. He desperately needed to hear more.
A rough growl leaves his mouth as he drags down the top of your tanktop with his teeth, springing your breasts free. Burying his face in your chest he just barely slips in the tip. You gasp, feeling how he begins to stretch you open.
“C'mon Darlin’. Wanna hear ya.” He encourages, voice muffled against your skin as he teases the entrance.
His mouth is wet and warm when it captures a nipple and tugs it as gently as he could manage. You let out another whimper bucking your hips, forcing his cock just a little bit further inside. He lets out a strangled moan, releasing your arms as he sits up. An audible wet popping noise when he detaches from your breast, having left a few deep purple bruises.
When bending at the knee his thighs are thick and sturdy. He fully lifts your lower half, dragging your body down the couch a bit, your legs settling, spread, around the worn but rippling muscle of his thighs.
Caressing your face, he thumbs your lip. Opening up, you welcome the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his calloused finger tip.
For just a moment he takes a pause to admire how wet you are. Taking his newly moistened thumb, slowly circling your clit at a steady pace. He watches how the shitty can-lights seated into your ceiling make your aching cunt glisten.
“Joel~” You whine, rocking your hips against his hand.
He halts all movement, dropping his head closer to you. His voice comes through low and gruff. “I can't hear you.”
You bit your lip, suppressing a mischievous giggle. Matching his tone you respond. “Then give me something to scream about.”
He chuckles darkly, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
He grabs the centermost part of your shorts, ripping the fabric in twain. The barrier was no longer in the way. He spits on your pussy, smacking your folds with his cock. Eliciting a string of gasps and groans from you. Looking down, his cock long and thick. Nearly worrying in size. By God were you ready to take every inch. Your pelvic floor flutters in anticipation.
Lining himself up, he pushes one of your knees as far as it could tuck into your chest. Your other leg sandwiched between his. Fingers gripping the back of your thigh with bruising force. He plunges his cock in so deep it kisses your cervix, leaving you seeing stars.
When a loud moan begins to rip through your vocal cords he roughly grabs your throat, squeezing away the sound. Dropping his head to feel the warmth of your stolen breath fan his face. You were stretched more than ever before, a wet squelch filling your ears as he bottoms out. He feels how your pulse hammers under his fingers, how you strangle his cock, walls fluttering around him. He lets you go the second after your eyes begin to lull, leaving you to suck in a breath of air before slamming into you again.
This time you cry out, your voice reverberating off of your apartment's walls. The sound made his cock throb inside of you briefly pushing on the spot that hit just right. Your mouth falls agape as your head falls back exposing your neck. He takes that opportunity to latch his mouth over the damp perfumed skin of your throat.
“Just like that, darlin’. Let me hear how much you want this cock.” He growls into your ear.
His teeth greet your tender flesh, nipping over areas that make you whimper. The wet suction of your decadent cunt audible as he drives into you at a pace that makes the legs of the couch squeak.
You brace your hand against his strong chest, feeling the thin padding of chest hair beneath his t-shirt. The other hand tangling into his hair, your nails raking down his scalp to his back.
You can't help the long whine that erupts from your chest as he slows. His cock dragging slowly. You focus on how you mold around him, how he fills the empty space so perfectly. Your pussy twitching as your hips writhe beneath him.
“Joellll.” You groan, your hips stuttering when he sinks to full hilt.
You can hear a rumble deep in his throat that echoes in his chest before he speaks. He locks his eyes onto your, his gaze wavering as his eyes threaten to roll in tandem with his hips.
“Show me what you want. Show me some of that hospitality you mentioned.” His voice was low and strangled.
Joel had forgotten an important rule.
“Ask nicely.” You sigh, a shallow thrust taking your breath away.
He halts, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Please.” He slips out his cock, the tip resting against the entrance. “Show me”
You shift and sit up, maintaining eye contact with Joel. He lets out a small sound in the absence of your weight against his skin. His discontent quickly resolves as you give him a chaste kiss and turn around crawling to the arm of the couch. Ass up. Waiting, glistening pussy exposed before his eyes.
He can see the slight gape he left close as you flex around nothing, inviting him in. Without hesitation he moves behind you, giving your ass a quick gentle nip dragging his tongue and teeth half way up your exposed back. He straightens up, giving it a little smack, watching it ripple. His thumbs spread your pussy lips, his fingers resting on your cheeks. You back up against him, pussy catching the tip as it jumps.
He shivers, his hands gripping your hips. His fingers dig into your soft flesh as he lets a string of saliva land where you two join. He slides his slick cock back in reveling in the warm and welcome feeling of your body.
You gasp, melting into the arm of the couch, your back arching allowing him in deeper. The way you sucked him in made him curse under his breath. He knew what you wanted. How you wanted to be fucked. He thrusts forward, hard and firm slamming his cock into you at a steady pace. Each movement following the last, the sound of skin slapping filling the room accompanied by the string of curses leaving both of your mouths.
He leans forward, hooking a finger into your mouth. Instinctively you twirl your tongue around the digit. With haste his hand travels between your legs, his newly dampened finger making measured circles on your clit. You moan loudly, the mixing of sensations intoxicating. The feeling of his cock ploughing deep inside mixing with the pleasurable feeling of his hand makes your pussy spasm and quiver around him.
He lets out a rough curse. “Fuck, honey I can feel you dripping down my thighs.”
He doesn't slow or stop this time, allowing you to use him to his full extent. You begin to follow his movements, helping him slam into you, loving all the grunts and groans that fell from his mouth.
Your pussy begins to seize and strangle him as you inch closer to orgasm. He hesitates for a second, his breathing ragged, continuing to pound into you determined to make you cum on his cock.
Over and over he rakes over your g-spot, finger focusing on your bundle of nerves. It feels like ecstasy, like your mind was free floating. You are being fucked senseless. You feel a building pressure low in your stomach, each stroke building more and more. Until-
“Oh, fuck.” You cry out.
An intense orgasm absolutely wrecks your body. Your holes pulsating, pussy clenching around his cock so hard he has to slow down. A milky ring collecting at the base of his cock, his eyes screwing shut as he enjoys how you spasm around him. His thrusts become sloppy, you can feel how his cock twitches inside, balls straining to be drained.
“C'mere.” He slides his soaked cock out after giving one last hard thrust.
With a firm hand on the back of your neck he pulls you to face him, forcing you to your knees. Your body nudging the coffee table across the carpet. You look up at him with pleading eyes, ready to receive whatever he has to give you.
He tangles his fist into your hair, forcing your head back and mouth open. “Shit.” He curses as you stick your tongue out.
With a few rough pumps of his hand he cums all over your face. His seed, warm and thick as he slaps the tip in your tongue, shooting ropes into the back of your throat. You swallow, suckling the tip, popping it out of your mouth with a smile.
He pulls you up onto the couch in one swift motion. “Sorry Darlin’ let me get you cleaned up.”
He steps into your kitchen the sound of his buckle rattling as he walks. Washing his hands he grabs a few damp paper towels and makes his way back to you. Having tucked himself away, he returns to your side. With a gentle hand he wipes away the mess he made. You let him, sitting back against the leather, your skin sticking to it but you didn't care, you felt so satisfied. So relieved, like months of tension had left your body. Heart hammering steadily against your ribs.
“Thanks.” You blush sheepishly, his touch so tender.
You share a look with Joel, a look that told you he might be in town more than usual if he could help it.
Before you could offer to make him dinner or something as a thank you for fucking you so masterfully, the sound of his phone ringing rips through the comfortable silence. It vibrated against the wood, the screen lighting up with his daughter's name.
“Shoot, she uh, she must be here.” As he says that headlights shine in through blinds.
Quickly you scramble to the bathroom to throw on an old pair of pjs and fix your rumpled appearance. Joel buckles his pants, his boxers and thighs beneath still soaked.
He picks up the line. You can hear him talking into the phone.
“Yeah yeah, I'm here. Your neighbor saved me from the heat. You're lucky, I would've been baked alive out there with how long you took.” He teases with a half laugh.
You emerge, leaning against the wall near the kitchen with a smile on your face. He hangs up and turns to you.
He runs his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair as he bends over to tie the boots he had been cramming onto his feet.
“I left my business card on your fridge. Use it. You know, for handyman purposes.” He throws you a quick wink from the floor.
You make your way over to him. Knowing he was about to practically run out the door. You give him a quick peck on the cheek.
Your voice drops. “Good thing there’s a flood in my basement.”
You watch the confusion furrow on his brow before the light behind his eyes perks up. “Oh,” he chuckles inwardly a bit. “Guess I'll have to come back and inspect the pipes.”
A knock interrupts the moment, Sarah’s shadow visible through the blinds. You quickly separate yourself from Joel unlocking the deadbolt. Holding the door open you wave Joel out of your apartment.
Sarah turns to face you, giving you a smile. “Thanks for takin’ care of the old man. He might've melted out here.” She walks away wiping the sweat that was collecting on her brow. Joel gives you a nod, a slight smile on his face as they climb the stairs to the first floor.
Masterlist | Valentine’s Week Marathon