Another one couldn’t hurt… right? - The Big Reveal
Pt. 9: you and daddy Joel but not in that way… share the news of the addition to your little family.
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NSFW! mdni 18+ only
warnings/content:
WC 7.4k - no outbreak!au, domestic fluff/smut, established relationship, husband!joel x wife!reader, some physical descriptions, mentions of pregnancy, age gap relationship, reader is early 30s & Joel is late 40s, they have 3 kids and are expecting a 4th. // unprotected p-in-v (don’t even think about it!), breeding kink/ pregnancy kink/ impregnation kink (even if your eyes are wide open, you don’t need to squint), soft dom!joel, size kink, fingers in mouth fingers in mouth fingers in mo—, fingering, degradation kink, praise kink, marking, dirty talk, multiple orgasms. No use of y/n.
a/n: more more more I’m greedy for them please stop making me exist elsewhere
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧ ୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
your parents’ house, Christmas Day
“You’re pregnant?”
Your sister’s voice cuts through the moment you step into the foyer. Her head is poking out from around the kitchen doorway, hair pulled up in a messy bun, hands still flour-dusted from rolling dough, and her eyes lock right onto your stomach.
You glance down at your bump, snug and unmistakably visible beneath your soft, form-fitting sweater.
Your small frame was always quick to betray the blooming life within your womb. You’d started showing at just two months pregnant, a form-fitting sweater leaves little doubt.
You blink at her past your parents, who are busy wrangling your kids into hugs… Sarah already halfway out of her coat and Artie’s stomping water off his boots, and letting himself be lifted into your dad’s arms.
“Well,” you deadpan, tossing a look back at Joel and that permanent smirk fixed on his face, “hello to you, too.”
Your sister disappears, but before you can get your coat off she’s right in front of you, wide-eyed and eyes locked on your bump.
“Oh my god, oh my god, you are. That’s a baby bump.” Her eyes find yours and you swear you see a tear in the corner of them, “You didn’t tell me!”
“I was going to,” you laugh nervously, surrendering your coat to Joel’s waiting hand. “I mean… I am telling you.”
Your mom turns at the noise, gaze dropping to your sweater the same moment she registers the conversation. Her brows lift, lips part, and then her hand covers her chest like the gesture might steady her heart.
“Is it true?” she asks, softly. “Honey, are you really…?”
Joel steps up beside you, tucking a hand around your waist, grounding the moment with that subtle, quiet strength of his. He’s still carrying Ellie, who’s buried her face in his neck with her thumb in her mouth, clinging to him despite her puffy pink jacket. Her little legs dangle against him.
“A little over 4 months along,” he says. “We wanted to wait a little while before tellin’ everyone.”
Your dad glances up from where Artie’s got him in a bear hug. “Wait… four months? You’re four months pregnant?” He stares at you, then Joel, then you again. “When were y’all gonna mention that, sometime after the baby graduates?”
“We wanted to do it in person,” you raise your hands in mock surrender.
The room stills, the chaos of coats and kids fading into a shared, stunned silence, and then your mom’s face breaks open like the sun coming out from behind clouds. She steps forward, hugging you with both arms.
“Oh, sweetheart… another baby,” she murmurs. “You’re growing another little person.”
Joel smiles softly beside you, and when your mom pulls back, she hugs him too. He stiffens for only half a second before sinking into it. Just the effects of your mom’s hugs, he stopped denying that fact.
“Four kids,” your dad mutters, still shaking his head. “You must really like bein’ exhausted.”
“Well, she’s hard to say no to.” A sharp nudge of your elbow has him looking at you with that devious smirk of his, knowing damn well he was the one you couldn’t say no to.
“Happy wife happy life, right?” your sister jokes, nudging Joel from the other side and causing a grunt from the man as he’s attacked from both sides with what he swears are the pointiest damn elbows.
So distinctly sisters, but he loves the bond the two of you share.
Your sister grins as she steps in front of you and reaches over to rub your bump. You roll your eyes, though you secretly love when your sister dotes on your babies. You were practically her baby growing up, after all.
“This little one’s already stealing the show.”
Everyone’s laughing gleefully and so emotionally now, your sister hugging Joel from the side with a playful, ‘you dog, you’.
Joel finally lowers Ellie, who’s now more awake and mumbling something as she toddles straight toward your dad, arms out like a sleepy penguin. It’s her turn to be scooped up by him and he presses a kiss to her forehead.
Joel peels off his coat last with a deep sigh and a pleased smirk on his face.
He glances at you with that look he saves just for these moments, half overwhelmed and half overflowing.
“You okay?” you ask quietly as the room moves around you in a swirl of hugs, laughter, and boots being peeled off of tiny feet.
He nods once, eyes locked on yours, the softest brown to ever be seen. Warm like creamy hot chocolate which has become a staple in your cravings lately, “Never better, darlin’.”
Sarah tugs at his hand then, pulling his attention away from you. Always feels like a much crueler interruption than it is. But what can you do when just a look from the man can have you feeling your heart beat out of your chest.
“Can I show Poppy the drawings we made?” Sarah asks, the brightest smile on her little face causing those distinctly Joel dimples to make their appearances.
Joel’s mouth twitches into a soft grin, “Sure thing, bug.”
She grabs your dad’s hand and drags him into the living room while Artie runs ahead. Your mom leads you toward the kitchen with her arm around your waist, as if you’re viable to break like precious china if handled wrong. She was always like this with your pregnancies, with your only sibling being your sister who was quite content remaining single and childfree, you and your kids were the main attraction at any family gathering.
Joel only had one brother, Tommy, who had also miraculously remained childfree despite his dalliances before he hit his mid-thirties where life turned serious.
Joel had told you all about that moment in his life that he’d realized how much he’d forgone a personal life to take care of his mom when she’d gotten sick. Then, she got better, and he was still stuck in that eldest role of taking care of his younger brother and being the pinnacle of support for the entire family.
When his work started flourishing and he had his own house to maintain, he lost himself in the work. The effort of a relationship is easily dissuaded by the endless hours of paperwork and phone calls that drained his brain of any further effort. By the time he’d get home, he’d be exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally; he knew trying to establish anything external would only be a distraction. Plus, if he were to get into a relationship he’d want to be able to focus more of his energy on that than he was capable of at that point.
By the time you’d met him, he’d finally opened himself to the idea of dating. But he didn’t want the flings or the one-night stands. He’d taken care of himself for long enough that he had no interest in wasting time as that was his most valuable asset. Then, you. Intense, focused, brilliant, determined… young as hell, but you were… well, you. As much as he tried to deny it initially, you had woven yourself into his very being. The idea of waking up to a cup of coffee and his dose of you every day became his lifeline.
When you’d finally decided to try for a baby together, it wasn’t a decision made lightly.
You’d enjoyed almost an entire decade together childfree. You’d filled your time with traveling and enjoying each other to the fullest, but there was so much love left to give.
Joel had respected your wishes after things between the two of you had gotten to an undeniably serious point after you’d settled into the married life. The discussion of kids came up, and you’d both agreed that you wanted to focus on your career and your marriage and not prioritize the life path of having children.
Joel was respectful of your wishes, as he always has been, but you could tell he was a man meant to be a dad. He was nurturing and patient, slow to anger, protective, kind, strong and soft all at once.
He’d never once brought it up unless you did, the exciting idea of having kids. Then, you slowly started talking about it more. How you were having baby fever, or when his cousin’s kids always gravitated towards him and he was just so natural and gentle that you couldn’t help but feel your womb ache to have his babies. Or when you were just so deeply and irrevocably in love you’d beg him to give you his babies.
He always tried to differentiate the feral requests with the logical ones, the conversations brought up when talking about bills or vacations or friends who were having kids. The logistics of it all, the time allocated, the mental and physical impacts that may occur, the lifestyle changes, the entire shift of dynamics once again to accommodate the new roles of being mom and dad, best friends, and husband and wife.
Then, you were buying baby books for new parents, eyeing that empty room for the layout of a nursery, and adjusting yours and his diet for the healthiest baby-making… That's when he finally embraced the excitement he’d been harboring for years.
Of course, he’d always stated his openness to the idea. In a “if you ever want kids, darlin’…” kind of way. Well, he can’t pretend he’s entirely innocent… especially when he’d be balls deep inside of you and he hears those sweet whimpers and tells you to ‘take it… let me fill y’up, make it stick, make a momma outta you’.
It's easy for him as a man to embrace the concept of children. But he knew it would have to be your choice, all he could do was be supportive of your decision. He wanted you, all of you, to himself. He wasn’t ashamed to finally admit his desire for physical, undeniable proof of his possession of your love and your devotion. Turns out, you wanted everyone to know who you belonged to, too.
As if that was much of a surprise for the way you unashamedly would display your affections in public. Or rather lay your claim. He loved every damn minute of it.
You’d learned early on that you shared particular turn-ons regarding the idea of Joel’s seed taking root deep inside you, creating life out of primal instinct. Which were very unproductive for the logical side of things when in reality you both had agreed to prioritizing a childfree life… but it had always been a turn-on. In addition to many others you’d explored over the years, at some point you realized there may be some real-life application with which you were both genuinely excited for. Not just the primal instinct to breed, claim, and belong to each other, though that fire within you both certainly continues to burn brighter with each day.
Now, with your little family, anyone you’d ever encountered had no doubt in their minds about the passion shared between the two of you. Overflowing with love and admiration for each other and bleeding into the physical and living proof of your love in the form of three little munchkins and another on the way.
Damn, he was proud to be the daddy to these kiddos. Quite literally made with love. Growing to become little people he adores, so distinctive and brilliant in their own ways, yet so undeniably you in other ways. And yes, more often than not he can’t help but confront the parts of himself that shine through these mini-versions of he and you.
“Daddy…” Ellie’s tugging on the pant leg of his jeans, her brows furrowed just like her daddy’s, so intently focused on getting his attention.
“Yeah, baby girl? What’d’ya need?” Her eyes light up once she’s won his attention, immediately outstretching her arms.
With a deep sigh, he leans down and picks her up, a soothing hand rubbing her back as he straightens again.
His girls are spoiled, and his son certainly is too. The blossoming life growing inside of you will be just as spoiled… he looks at you at that thought, his gaze softening at the sight of your hand absently resting on the bump beneath your sweater.
He’s obsessed with that sight, but is once again rudely interrupted by Sarah and Artie nearly knocking over your mother as she was carrying dishes to the dining room table.
He groans, letting his eyes rove over you once more before gently sets Ellie back down, much to her disapproval, “alright, you two… c’mere.” Artie and Sarah’s eyes quickly look as his usual soft, gentle voice turned stern. A rarity, but they knew enough to know that they had done something to earn that tone. He points his finger to the floor in front of him, and kneels down so he’s closer to eye-level of your two oldest.
“Artie…” your son refuses to still, trying to grab onto Joel’s broad shoulders and climb onto his back. But Joel quickly catches him, lifting him and setting him down in front of where Joel was kneeling. Joel’s large hands gently grip your son’s upper arms, keeping him still which is a nearly impossible endeavor when he’s hyper.
“Y’listenin’, bud?” Joel’s stern dad voice is so unbearably sexy to you, and as much as you loved it you also liked that he didn’t have to use it that often… yet. Who knew what trouble your kids would get into as they get older and likely more rambunctious.
Artie’s mischievous eyes, the same dark, scheming eyes his daddy gets whenever he’s up to no good, dart everywhere except his father’s face.
Meanwhile, Sarah has already begun retreating behind you.
Your now seven-year-old carefully wedges herself against the back of your legs like maybe if she becomes part of your silhouette Joel won’t notice she’d very clearly been involved in whatever catastrophe had nearly taken out your mother and the dinner dishes.
“Oh no,” he drawls, pointing toward her without looking away from Artie. “Don’t you start hidin’ behind your mama like she’s gonna save ya.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting a smile as Sarah’s little hands clutch the back of your sweater tighter.
“Mommy likes me,” she mutters into your side.
Joel huffs out a laugh at that, deep and warm and exhausted all at once. “Mommy likes me too, bug. Means she’s my accomplice, not yours.”
You finally glance down at her, raising a brow, “Were you helping your brother cause problems?”
Sarah’s eyes widen with immediate betrayal. Like you, of all people, should understand loyalty.
Joel catches the look and points between the two of you, “See? Team effort. Mommy and Daddy are united against tiny menaces.”
Joel sighs through a smile before finally straightening back up to his full height. Sarah stays tucked against you, peeking around your arm with cautious little eyes now that she realizes this is shifting from teasing into an actual lesson.
The softness settles back into his face almost immediately.
He reaches down, patting Artie lightly on the shoulder. “Hey,” he says more gently, waiting until both kids are looking at him. “Y’all know Grandma could’ve gotten hurt, right?”
Sarah’s mouth pulls downward just slightly while Artie’s grip loosens on Joel’s jeans, “We didn’t mean to,” Sarah says quietly.
“I know y’didn’t.” Joel’s voice stays calm and steady, never sharp. “But that’s why we gotta be careful in houses full’a people, ‘specially when folks are carryin’ hot food or dishes, alright?”
Artie nods first, quick and earnest now that he understands that they could’ve hurt someone because of running inside. He was a kid with good intentions, and so was Sarah. You and Joel both know they’d never intentionally hurt anyone, especially Grandma, who makes the best cookies and lets them lick the bowl.
“Can y’go apologize to Grandma for almost knockin’ her over?”
Sarah immediately slips away from your side while Artie barrels after her, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to make it right.
Joel catches the back of his sweater again automatically before he can faceplant, “Walk,” he warns.
Artie slows to an aggressively fast walk.
You laugh quietly beside him while Joel shakes his head under his breath, though you can see the fondness written all over his face.
Then he glances over at you, “Think they just need to burn some energy,” he murmurs.
“Y’think?”
He ignores the sarcasm entirely, “I’ll take ‘em outside for a bit before dinner. Let ‘em run ‘round the yard or somethin’.” His gaze drifts toward the darkening yard outside. “Better than lettin’ your father get tackled by a four-year-old hopped up on peppermint bark.”
You hum and melt into his side, pressing your face to his chest as his hand finds your lower back, his fingers massaging right where you always need it.
Your eyes drift toward the kitchen again just in time to see Ellie ignoring the chaos entirely in favor of your sister, who’s finally escaped dish duty and flour-covered countertops long enough to breathe.
Ellie toddles directly toward her with complete certainty, as she always has with your sister.
Your sister barely has enough time to crouch before Ellie climbs straight into her lap, little arms looping around her neck like she belongs there.
You watch as Ellie curls so naturally into your sister’s lap while the rest of the house buzzes around them. She’d always been different from the older two in that regard. Ellie preferred to observe first. To linger quietly at the edges until she decided where she wanted to be.
And somehow, more often than not, she chose your sister.
Maybe because your sister never pushes for attention from her. Never forces interaction or tries to coax her out of her shell. She simply exists beside her. And Ellie responds to that with the kind of trust only little kids are capable of giving.
Sarah reappears from the kitchen with your mother behind her, and your mom’s already waving the whole thing off with affectionate exasperation.
Artie’s at her heels in apology while Sarah explains something very seriously with animated little hand gestures.
Joel watches the scene unfold and something in him visibly eases again.
You tilt your head up to look at him properly, and there it is again, that unbearable feeling that still catches you off guard even after years together.
The sight of him.
Not just handsome, though god he is. Broad shoulders filling out that dark sweater, hair slightly mussed from tiny hands, wedding ring catching warm kitchen light every time he moves.
It’s the intimacy of knowing every version of this man.
Knowing how gentle those hands are when they hold your babies. Knowing the same man that disciplines your children, kissed every inch of your body this morning like devotion itself. Knowing the quiet steadiness of him is real because you’ve seen every version of this man there is to see.
The younger Joel who kissed you like he was starving for it never disappeared. If anything, age only made him worse. Who kisses you now like it’s the nectar of life itself and the only way he can possibly get through the day.
The man who keeps fruit snacks in his coat pocket because Ellie gets cranky in grocery stores. The man who learned how to braid Sarah’s hair from YouTube videos because she once cried when he couldn’t make it look like yours. The man who lets Artie “help” him with yard work even though it usually creates three times more work in the end.
Now, the amazing father who is currently calculating exactly how long he can let the kids sprint around outside before someone inevitably cries about wet socks.
Joel notices you staring almost instantly and his eyes lower to yours, softening at the edges, “What?”
“Nothin’.”
That earns you a skeptical little huff.
Your fingers curl into the front of his sweater instead, smoothing over the fabric there while your body instinctively drifts closer.
You swear sometimes loving him feels less like an emotion and more like gravity.
Your Joel.
The man who somehow still looks at you like he’s a little stunned you chose him.
Even now, standing in your parents’ foyer surrounded by children and Christmas dishes and overlapping conversations, you can feel it lingering beneath the surface in the way his eyes drift over you.
“What’s on your mind, darlin’?”
You smile against his chest, “You always know when I’m in my head, huh.”
“Married to ya long enough.” His nose brushes briefly against your temple, “Got tells.”
You raise an eyebrow and look up at him again, “Oh, I’ve got tells?”
He nods lazily, his eyes slowly absorbing everything your expression has to reveal, “Mhmm.”
“What are they?”
His eyes flick down to your mouth before lifting again, warm amusement settling there, “Get real quiet. Start lookin’ at me like you’re about five seconds away from either kissin’ me or cryin’.”
His hand slides firmly around your waist and pulls you against him until there’s barely space left between your bodies. Warmth radiates off him in waves, familiar and grounding and dangerously distracting all at once.
Then he kisses you, his mouth moves against yours with the ease of long practice. His thumb strokes slow against the curve of your waist beneath your sweater while your fingers drift upward into the slightly mussed hair at the nape of his neck.
God, you love kissing your husband.
Love the way he always sighs into it immediately.
Love the way his hand tightens subtly at your hips every single time, grounding himself to you.
The room dissipates from around you. Everything else fades away until…
“Again?”
Joel pulls back first, though only barely, forehead still resting against yours as he closes his eyes with exhausted resignation.
Sarah stands in the middle of the foyer holding a candy cane like she’s personally witnessed a war crime.
Artie appears beside her two seconds later, immediately far less interested.
Sarah keeps squinting suspiciously at the two of you, “You kiss a lot.”
Joel snaps his fingers playfully and points toward her without missing a beat, “Well, I like mommy a lot. That’s generally how bein’ married works, bug.”
Artie nods thoughtfully at this revelation while Ellie, still planted in your sister’s lap, watches the entire exchange.
Your mother waves a hand from the dining room, “Joel, if you still plan on taking those children outside before dinner, now would be an excellent time.”
“Yes ma’am, I’m goin’.”
The kids erupt instantly.
You bite back another smile as Joel starts gathering tiny jackets, hats, gloves, and boots with the efficiency of a man who’s done this exact routine a thousand times before. He crouches to zip Sarah’s coat while simultaneously stopping Artie from pelting Ellie with a mitten.
Then he looks up at you with that stupid, devastating tenderness that never fails to wreck you.
Joel sighs heavily through a smile before opening the back door, immediately getting blasted with cold air and shrieking children.
Within seconds the backyard is chaos.
Sarah starts organizing some elaborate puddle game that only she understands while Artie sprints through the yard like a feral woodland creature. Joel trails after them with Ellie right behind him, her hat slipping crooked over one eye while she watches her siblings with fascination.
You stand near the kitchen window with your mother and sister, pretending to help arrange dinner while mostly just watching your husband through the glass.
The porch light catches on the broad shape of him moving through the yard, bending to help Artie gather sticks that look the most sword shaped while Sarah tugs insistently at his sleeve trying to explain rules to whatever game she’s invented.
And even from across the yard you can see the grin that spreads across his face when he catches you staring again.
—
Dinner passes in the warm, chaotic blur family holidays always seem to become.
By the time the gifts are all exchanged and opened, and the kids are finally bundled into pajamas and makeshift sleeping arrangements, both you and Joel are running on exhaustion, affection, and several hours of quietly pretending you weren’t thinking about each other in entirely inappropriate ways all evening. Joel stands in the hallway doorway watching you adjust Sarah’s blanket later that night, your sweater riding up slightly over the curve of your stomach as you bend.
The look on his face when you straighten again is enough to make warmth coil low in your belly instantly.
His wedding ring glints softly as he hooks a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and pulls you into him.
There’s a pattern to the two of you now. One built over years of marriage and children and knowing each other too well. Lingering touches throughout the day. Stolen glances across crowded rooms. The gradual build of tension until eventually one of you finally caves.
Usually him, though not always.
You glance down the hallway toward the room where the kids are sleeping before looking back up at him.
Joel follows your gaze and immediately groans under his breath.
“Darlin’,” he mutters, forehead dropping briefly against yours. “We are absolutely not sneakin’ around your parents’ house like teenagers,” Joel mutters against your mouth. Even as he says it, his hands are already sliding beneath your sweater, warm palms spreading over your waist like he physically cannot help himself.
“Mm,” you hum against his mouth. “Married teenagers with a mortgage and four children.”
That rough laugh leaves him before he kisses you again, helpless against it despite himself.
Maybe it was the nostalgia of being back in your childhood home. Maybe it was watching Joel all night, warm and broad and endlessly patient with your children. Maybe it was pregnancy hormones or the rare opportunity to exist without tiny hands climbing all over both of you for five consecutive minutes.
Whatever it was, the second the bedroom door shut behind you, restraint stopped feeling particularly important.
The guest room, which was once your childhood bedroom, is dark except for the colored glow of Christmas lights filtering faintly through the curtains from outside. Soft reds and greens drift across the walls in muted washes, catching along Joel’s shoulders as he locks the door as quietly as possible before turning back toward you.
And then he just… looks at you.
His gaze drifts slowly down your body, lingering at the swell of your stomach beneath your sweater before climbing back upward again. Something about pregnancy completely rewires this man. Not that Joel had ever really tried to keep his hands off of you, but carrying his babies seemed to reduce whatever self-control he once possessed into ash.
He’s stepping toward you again and you bite your lip in anticipation, the heat already climbing your neck.
His mouth brushes yours, “Thought your mother was gonna catch you eye-fuckin’ me across the dinner table.”
A startled laugh escapes you before he kisses you again, swallowing the sound immediately.
The kiss deepens almost without warning.
Years together had made the two of you dangerously attuned to each other. Every inhale. Every shift of breath. Every tiny sound. Joel kisses you like a man who already knows exactly what makes you melt and still enjoys discovering it all over again anyway.
His hands slide beneath your sweater fully now, rough palms smoothing up the curve of your spine before settling at your ribs. You shiver when his thumbs brush the underside of your breasts.
“Joel,” you whisper.
The sound of his name alone seems to do something to him.
His forehead drops briefly against yours again, eyes closing as he exhales slowly through his nose like he’s actively trying to collect himself, “This is a terrible idea.”
Your fingers slide into his hair, “Y’wanna stop?”
Joel lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh against your mouth.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, palms smoothing slowly down your sides, “if I ever stop touchin’ ya, it’s because I’m six feet under.”
Joel backs you toward the bed slowly, one hand spread protectively over the curve of your stomach. The backs of your legs hit the mattress and he follows you down with a quiet groan the second you pull him with you.
His beard scrapes lightly along your jaw before his mouth finds the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
“Y’have any idea,” he murmurs quietly against your skin, “what watchin’ you tonight did t’me?”
Your hands smooth beneath his sweater, palms dragging over warm skin and the firm planes of his back. “Probably the same thing watchin’ you with the kids does to me.”
That earns you a rough exhale against your throat.
“Yeah?” His mouth curves faintly there. “Me wranglin’ sugar-crazed children got you worked up?”
“So stern yet so gentle with your minis…” You glance up at him innocently, “yeah, very much so.”
His mouth drags down your throat and he immediately catches the tiny sound that escapes you, one large hand sliding up to cover your mouth before instinct can betray either of you.
Those dark chocolate eyes lift back to yours instantly, equal parts amusement and warning.
“Mind yourself, darlin’, got sleepin’ kids and a house full’a people who already know too much about what we get up to when we’re alone.”
Your fingers smooth through the hair at the nape of his neck, softening at the rough edge in his voice. It’s almost unfair how quickly this man unravels for you after all these years. One kiss and suddenly the steady, capable father downstairs wrangling over-tired children disappears, replaced by the version of Joel who still looks at you like he’s starving for every inch of affection you offer him.
His other rough palm skims over your ribs, your waist, the gentle swell of your stomach again, “Y’gonna be quiet f’me, baby?”
You nod your head pathetically, and he can feel your grin against his hand.
“Y’promise?”
You nod your head again, taking staggered breaths through your nose as he looks down at you with such fire that you swear you melt beneath him.
“Alright… but I won’t hesitate in gaggin’ ya if I have to, y’understand?” He takes his hand slowly off of your mouth, assessing your understanding and obedience, “use your words, hun. Be a good girl.”
“Yes sir, I… I’ll be good.”
He hums in contemplation, knowing you have good intentions, but also knowing how hard you try to be quiet and how rare it is for you to succeed in that endeavor. His hands finally grab the hem of your shirt and peel it off of you, quickly disposing of your bra as you arch your back for him.
“Y’are a good girl f’me, ain’t ya…” His lips trail lower, lingering and reverent one second before turning hungry the next. Leaving dark red marks in his path.
The colored glow of the Christmas lights from the house beside your parents’ catches across his shoulders as he settles between your thighs again, broad hands smoothing up the outsides of them before spreading them gently apart.
You bite your lip hard enough to stop the sound threatening to leave you and his eyes darken instantly at the effort.
His thumb drags slowly along your bottom lip before pressing gently against it. Your mouth opens for him without hesitation, your tongue instantly working around it in a way that threatens his own unraveling.
“Y’know what y’do to me carryin’ my babies?” he murmurs, eyes dragging slowly over you. “Walkin’ around lookin’ so damn sexy all day while I’m tryin’ to behave in front’a your parents.”
His mouth presses briefly against your stomach then, softer than before, lingering there for a second longer before he looks back up at you again. His mouth presses briefly against your stomach then, softer than before, lingering there for a second longer before he looks back up at you again.
He withdraws his thumb from your mouth much to your dismay, but quickly unbuttons your jeans and hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants and panties and pulls them down with less self-control than he’d been showcasing thus far.
You lift your hips as he slides them off, his hands lightly trace back up your legs, his eyes following aptly.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous, and look at that…” his obsession with your baby bump is no surprise, and might also be one of the reasons you’d agreed to having one last baby in the first place.
“You get prettier every damn day, don’t’cha?” His eyes flick back up to yours with that devilish grin of his before he’s gripping your thighs apart and settling himself between them.
He crosses his arms and peels his sweater and undershirt off in a grand show of revealing his deliciously tanned skin to your hungry hands and eyes.
It doesn’t take long for your hands to unbutton and unzip his pants and start to shuck them down his thick thighs. He steps off of the bed to peel the final layers all the way off.
His cock springs free, leaking profusely at the tip as if he’d been neglected all day. And maybe he had been, unintentionally, due to the demands of wrangling three trouble-makers on Christmas. And so had you, you realize, as your legs spread wider as settles between them again. Then, his attempt to inch down the bed is thwarted by your heels anchoring behind his thighs.
You’re not one to deny his hungry mouth from getting its fill of you, but the entire evening all you’d been able to think about is how you’re carrying his baby and how you need him to melt into you. For his broad body to cage you in like a damn animal and fuck the ache out of you.
“Need you, Joel… need to feel you,” your arms wrap around him as he presses his exposed skin against yours.
“Awfully bold of ya to assume you’re ready to take me, darlin’,” he drags two of his thick fingers down the expanse of your stomach, watching the shivers erupting on your skin with a quiet reverence.
“Gonna need t’use my fingers first, baby… need to feel y’cum before I lose my damn mind inside this tight pussy,” His fingers cup your mound now, his middle finger pressing against your entrance and quickly sinking inside without much resistance at all because of how long you’d been worked up, “fuck…” Joel groans at how wet you are already, then slowly adds another finger before starting to thrust in and out.
The squelch of his fingers is obscene, betraying how needy you are for him, as if there’s ever really any doubt.
“Needy cunt, I know… I know,” he soothes, his thrusts quicken with the addition of his thumb nudging against your swollen clit.
A whimper immediately escapes you, followed quickly by a moan of relief as he finds that spot inside of you, curling his fingers into the spongy ridge that has you seeing stars.
Joel can tell that you are already oblivious to the sounds you’re making. Before you can even register what’s happening, Joel’s thick fingers are stuffed into your open mouth, stifling the sounds pouring out of you, “since y’can’t shut y’self up…” he doesn’t need to finish that thought, the purpose is clear.
You hum around his fingers in surprise, but your eyes tell him everything he needs to know… well, the clenching of your tight walls around his thick digits buried deep in your pussy tends to also be a tell-tale sign that you are getting closer to cresting over that wave of pleasure.
Your hands anchor themselves to some part of him. Your nails biting into the tanned skin of his biceps and forearms, desperately trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of stimulation.
You're enraptured by the sight of him expertly working your body. He’s added a third finger into the gummy walls of your pussy, scissoring you open for his cock, and his thumb continues its circles on your clit.
You’re a blubbery mess around his fingers as you suckle them and incoherently plead for him, he doesn’t need to hear your words to know what you’re saying, “cum f’me, baby, then I can fuck the ache away. Be my good girl…”
Not like you had much choice in the matter as your body keens, your back arching into his touch as he brings you over that edge. Your vision goes blurry, the pleasure is blinding, and all you can feel is him. All you can hear are his stifled groans of approval and his words of encouragement through clenched teeth as he works you through your intense orgasm, “fuck yeah…such a good fuckin’ girl f’me… that’s it…”
You can feel the throb of his cock against your thigh, the tip leaking profusely and swollen red with need.
You still can’t talk coherently through his fingers still stuffed in your mouth, but he can feel your tongue moving along his fingers and his eyes finally meet yours again after he brings you down from your much needed release and withdraws his fingers from your pussy.
He keeps his fingers in your mouth, his eyes dark and hungry as he brings the fingers that had just been buried inside of you to his lips, sucking and licking them clean with a low hum of approval and murmuring praises as he indulges his favorite taste in the damn world, “so sweet, all fuckin’ mine.”
He keeps his fingers in your mouth as he grips his cock in his other hand, his head tilting back briefly in relief as he strokes it once before nudging your legs wider with his.
Your eyes say enough for him to understand what you want, and your body says what your eyes can’t. Your legs spread wider, inviting... begging. Your hands pulling him closer, the heels of your feet digging into the back of his legs and practically forcing his cock closer to where you need him.
“Alright, alright… I hear ya, needy thing, let me make y’feel better, yeah?”
You nod frantically, only now noticing the tears welling up in your eyes in sheer need to be filled by him.
Joel tuts mockingly at your desperation which only causes the tears to spill down your cheeks, “Y’need my cock to claim this sweet pussy like it ain’t what fucked ya deep and raw til it knocked y’up… again?”
His thumb traces your chin and cheek as your tongue works around his fingers as if they were his cock shoved deep into your throat. You do your best to swallow around them, the saliva starting to spill out and down your chin and he just watches, completely enraptured by the sight.
Much to your dismay…. surprise…. delight? you’re not really sure, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. He then grips your face, with your mouth still agape, between his thumb and his soaked fingers, ensuring your full attention on him.
The next thing you know, his mouth is on yours, and the thick head of his cock is pushing into you.
You swallow each other’s moans, inhaling and absorbing every non-verbal confession of how badly you both needed this.
His tongue licks hungrily into your mouth and you greedily accept it, your hands finding purchase in his greying curls once more as he gives in to his own need.
The stretch is accompanied by a subtle burn as he works the girth of his cock into you. One of his hands grips the underside of your thigh, holding you open for him, while the other braces himself.
“Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth once he bottoms out. “Needed y’too, woulda kept teasin’ ya, but who the fuck am I kiddin’.”
He widens the stance of his thick thighs between yours, causing your legs to spread even more as he loses all abandon and begins fucking you into the mattress.
“Thank you, thank you… thank y…” you blabber against his lips, and you feel him grin against yours in response.
His pace picks up and his heavy balls slap against you with every thrust as he murmurs filth right into your soul, “take it, baby… this cock was made to fill this tight pussy, to fuck ya so hard and deep that y’can’t form a word in that pretty little head a’yours.” He keeps going, nestling his face into the crook of your neck and replacing his hand over your mouth to prevent your whimpers and moans from filling the entire house.
His lips are right up to your ear now, and you know he has no intention of stopping this spew of filth as he fucks you without reprieve, “this tiny body was made f’my thick cock to fuck my seed right into your womb… ‘n make it stick… over and over…” the sound of your bodies slapping together should’ve been more of a concern than whatever other sounds you could possibly be making, but Joel couldn’t care less at the moment.
The sound of Christmas movies carried throughout the house, so at this point it was more about making you compliant to the impact of his words, which he knows will have you milking his cock in no time, “fuckin’ ya in your childhood bed with our kids sleepin’ down the hall… what would your younger self say, huh? Before she knew what a greedy, desperate girl she’d become because a real man showed her how to fuck.”
You think about your eighteen year old self, finally eighteen, having indulged in endless fantasies of someday meeting an older man to show her exactly what Joel has shown you, but those fantasies could never compare to your reality now.
Joel’s words certainly have the desired effect, you can feel that coil tightening once more. That perfect mushroom head of his cock digging perfectly into that spot so so deep inside of you. His teeth and tongue are laying claim to the hollow of your throat. His grip tightens around your thigh, and you know it’ll bruise.
You fucking love when his hands leave a mark in the shape of his fingers. “Please…” you mouth the word against the hand still covering your mouth. Your nails rake down the muscles of his back, each thrust has you crying against his palm. You feel every detail of his impossibly hard cock as it repeatedly stretches you open around it and fucks deeper than you think is even possible, every time.
You can imagine every throb of every vein you’ve memorized with your tongue, your hands, your pulsating walls… his chest heaves against yours, the coarse, yet soft hair spattered across his broad chest rubs deliciously against your nipples and causes more whimpers to spill between his fingers. His skin melts against yours, the sweat of passionate bodies mixing together in a concoction of devotion and primal need.
He lifts himself up so he can see the way his cock splits you open and the foamy ring of your arousal forming at the base of his cock.
His brows furrow in concentration as he feels how fucking close you are again, “there it is, baby… give it t’me, my good fuckin’ girl,” he finally moves his hand from over your mouth in favor of strengthening your impending release. His hand moves between your thighs and his thumb finds that oversensitive bundle of nerves that instantly has you biting down on your own hand to stifle the noises from flooding out.
“That’s it,” his hips stutter as you begin to pulsate around him, he pushes his hips forward, tilting yours up slightly and then everything implodes, “fuck… fuck yes, milkin’ the fuck outta me, baby…”
Now, both of his hands grip the back of your thighs and folds you in half, his entire body pressing you into the mattress as he pounds mercilessly into you.
You’re free-falling off of the edge and Joel’s right there with you. Lips colliding in kisses meant to devour, hands grasping to pull him closer, but there’s no space between you left to fill, yet you ache to absorb.
A few more thrusts and he can’t hold back any longer. With a deep, guttural groan that vibrates so deep you can feel it in your own bones, he’s spilling his seed deep inside of you, “take it,” his forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath hot on your skin in soft grunts, emptying himself with thick spurts of cum painting your walls, “take it all.” His mouth claims every inch of skin he can reach, leaving little red marks and sloppy kisses in its wake. He slowly and messily trails back to your mouth, which he promptly pries open with his.
Your legs shake in the aftershock, your hands alternating between smoothing down the muscles of his back and tangling in his sweat-slicked hair.
You feel every pulse of his cock throbbing deep inside of you. With a few final and deep thrusts, he fucks his cum even deeper, and you can feel the mix of yours and his juices spilling out around his softening cock.
Right as you start to contemplate the consequences of making a mess on the guest room’s sheets, Joel understands exactly where your mind wanders to, “your parents ain’t dumb, they know we fuck like animals.”
Which does little to soothe your nerves. To know that your parents know how sexually active you are… as if a gaggle of kids and another on the way wasn’t proof enough… it went against your upbringing to really talk about that stuff with them. You and your sister are fairly certain they believe that she’s still a virgin, when you’d grown into your womanhood hearing about all of her sexual escapades. Her experience indirectly solidified your own preference for older men.
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” he presses gentle kisses to your forehead, your temple, your cheekbone…. the corner of your mouth, “I’ll rinse the sheets off in the mornin’ and leave ‘em to dry so there’s some benefit of the doubt… That work?”
You nod your head, but roll your eyes at the brown-eyed man staring so intently down at you, “thank you.”
He winks cheekily and you pull him into another sultry and sloppy make out.
“Anytime,” he replies.
You kiss his smug grin with a pleased hum.
A wandering hand finds your sore breasts with a soft sigh of relief against your lips, and he finally pulls out of you with a quiet groan, collapsing beside you. Joel presses gentle kisses to your shoulder and neck before settling into the soft mattress, allowing the exhaustion from the day to finally overtake you both.
୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧ ୨୧ ⏔⏔⏔⏔♡⏔⏔⏔⏔ ୨୧
a/n: and yes, we are going to ignore the fact that this initially was going to be more of a Christmas chapter. fighting for my life a little bit (just being dramatic). my drive to do quite literally anything is minuscule to non-existent, but there is no better feeling than a blissful realization where I’m like oh let me do something I want to do and I actually do it. Throughout the past few months I have made like 20 drafts of general ideas for this fic and filled in plot holes/ did research for accuracy. that process is exhilarating for me as I scour pinterest, but that’s as far as I’d gotten til now. writing smut just wasn’t happening for me lol. soooo, here’s whatever this became! hope you enjoyed!
Taglist as requested (please let me know if you want to be added/removed!): @white-wolf-buckaroo @streamermattsgf @somedayheaven @simpingforjoel