Dieter Fucking Bravo.

Dieter fucking Bravo.

Give me that chaotic trash panda so I can FIX HIM!

do you ever become obsessed with a character and you just go "of fucking course its that one" at yourself because you are so incredibly predictable

This legit made my morning 😍🤣 He is definitely a little insane 😂

I’m glad you enjoyed it! ❤️❤️❤️

Lies, Excuses and Bullshit

Pairing: Exboyfriend!Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: A man with a double life willing to do anything to keep his obsession around, and a woman who doesn't know what she's gotten herself into.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! Breaking up, creepy!Dave, infidelity, stalker behavior from Dave, oral(f receiving), spanking, unprotected PIV(make smarter choices), manipulation, and if there is anything I missed please let me know!

A/N: Phew, not sure what happened here. This is a first, I don't usually write darker stuff but something about Dave made it just fly out of my finger tips. This was written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge! Thank you Shortie for letting me be part of the challenge 😊 I need to shout out @beefrobeefcal @strang3lov3 @ozarkthedog and @mothandpidgeon thank you all for the encouragement and lending your eyeballs for this story! ❤️

@jay-zzle, my love, my bestie. This one is for you! 🥰❤️🥰❤️

Masterlist||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

You thought things were fine. Dave is the perfect gentleman. It is a complete shock to see this text from your friend. It was a picture of Dave with another woman and two little girls at a soccer game. Maybe it’s his niece's soccer game and he’s just there being a good uncle? Until the next text comes in.

Isn’t that your boyfriend?

Another picture is attached featuring Dave, his arm around the woman. Then another and another and another. More evidence to suggest he is obviously in a relationship with the woman and you are the one left in the dark on this whole situation.

You stopped responding to your friend a while ago, staring at the pictures they sent. Back and forth, memorizing every detail. The way he’s looking at her. The way his arm is around her. The way he’s touching her. The way he kissed her -  that was the one that sealed your fate of knowing you had in fact not been seeing a recently divorced man but a married one. Your phone buzzes with another text notification.

D. York: Hey baby, still picking you up at 9 right?

You glare at your phone unsure of what the next step is. Obviously he is cheating on his wife unbeknownst to you. How does somebody even handle something like this? You really liked Dave, you saw a future with him. Your relationship has been going on for months now.

After neglecting to respond your phone buzzes again with another text from the man himself.

D. York: Been thinking about you 

You roll your eyes and text him back.

You: Not tonight. Don’t feel good.

D. York: Aw you poor thing. Do you need anything?

You didn’t even have the energy to respond with this new found information rattling around your brain, pressing the button to make your phone sleep and making your way to your bedroom. You plugged your phone in and crawled into bed, ignoring the constant buzz against your nightstand as you tried to drift off. The sun was still out but you couldn’t be awake right now. You needed to shut your brain off and this was the only way you knew how.

There was a pounding on your door when you woke with a startle. The moon casting shadows through the curtains into your room. You checked your phone, seeing the multiple notifications, some from your friends and some from Dave. He’d also tried calling several different times.

D. York: Are you okay?

Did you talk to him yet?

D. York: Do you want some company?

Want me to kick his ass?

D. York: How are you feeling?

What do you plan to say?

D. York: Baby, please answer me. Getting a little worried here.

The pounding on your door continued as you checked your phone. The doorbell camera he insisted on getting for you and installed showed Dave at your doorstep holding a plastic bag, grumbling, you got out of bed and walked towards the door.

“I’m coming. Give it a rest,” you shout, hoping Dave can hear you over his loud knocks.

Sliding the chain lock you open the door.

“Baby,” Dave sighs with relief, “What have you been doing? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours now!”

“I told you, I don’t feel good,” you shrug, “I’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, I started to get worried,” Dave says, looking around your living room, “I got you some stuff to hopefully help with whatever bug you’ve seemed to catch.”

You watch as he carefully steps into your space, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of your couch.

“Dave,” you sigh, “I know.”

“Know what?” Dave asks, hands on his hips and shaking his head with a smirk.

“I know you’re still married.”

You see his adam's apple bob as he swallows, flopping back onto the couch, and clasping his hands together. He stays silent for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

“How’d you find out?”

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to fold so easily. 

“A friend sent me some photos from today at the soccer field,” you murmur, trying to keep the wavering in your voice to a minimum.

“I see,” Dave says with a nod.

“You also have kids?”

Dave nods again, facing you this time.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Dave scoffs, “Sleep with you?”

“I wouldn’t just call what we’ve been doing as ‘sleeping together,’ Dave,” you say, using your fingers as air quotes when the words sleeping together leave your mouth.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Dave chuckles, “I get bored from time to time and like to play with someone new.”

“Your wife know that?” you ask, glaring at him. This man who you thought you knew is showing an entirely different side of himself, and you don’t like it.

“She doesn’t need to know because it’s not a big deal.” Dave sighs exasperated.

“I think it’s best if you left.”

“Alright,” Dave says standing, “If that’s what you want.”

“Yep,” you say with a sharp nod.

“Listen,” Dave says, reaching a hand towards your arm, and you slid your arm back letting him know not to touch you, and he put his hand down beside him, “Okay, well, it’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. I like you, I like what we’ve been–”

“Dave, you’re cheating on your wife,” you grit through your teeth interrupting the spiel he was going on, and swung the door open for him, “Leave.”

—

“Fucking take it.” Dave growls in your ear, thrusting his hips harshly into you, “Just like that baby.”

Your moans fill his ears, he can tell you’re close. The way your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tighter. He can practically taste your climax in the air around him, gripping your hips tighter and angling them so he can get deeper.

“Dave,” you sob, after a particularly harsh thrust. Fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, back arching as you continue to cry out his name.

Dave. Dave. Dave.

“David!”

Dave jumps to the sound of Carol’s voice. Looking around to see he’s in his own bed in his home, not yours.

“Honey, your alarm has been going off for 10 minutes now.”

He lets out a sigh facing his reality, adjusting the hardness in his pajama bottoms. It was just a dream. It’s been months since he’s seen you. You’ve seemed to make your way into his brain at all times of the day, conscious or not.

“I’m gonna get the girls ready but you don’t need to be late for work again,” Carol says, giving him a smile and wink. After last night, he’s not sure how much longer he can do this. He’s been trying to have sex with Carol more. Sure, she’s his wife but she doesn’t scratch the same itch you did.

He’s tried. He’s tried to be a good husband, he’s tried to be a good dad and he’s exhausted. Dave feels himself becoming more of a shell since you told him to leave.

You’ve made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with him. He tried to reach out to you, only to have his number blocked. You disabled your doorbell camera after he left that night. You must have known he’d try and look at it on his phone, you knew he had the information for your account. Why wouldn’t he try to look?

What you don’t know is that once Carol takes the girls to school, he gets the second phone hidden in the false bottom of a shoe box in his closet that is an exact copy of your own. He can see who you’re texting, where you’re at, how things at work are going, who you’re hanging out with. It’s become an obsession to check it daily.

—

As he steps out of the shower, Carol shouts up the stairs that she’s leaving with the girls, and the front door closes shortly after. Time to start his day.

Getting dressed in his running gear and snatching his headphones from the dresser. He makes his way to the closet. Finding the shoe box with your duplicated phone.

Texts from your friends, a text from your boss and a missed call from your mom. What catches his eye the most is the notification from some jackass on Tinder. James. Scanning James’ profile he’s definitely not your type: blonde hair, green eyes, gelled back hair, and a full beard.

James, 29

Looking for a girl who just wants to have some fun, if it leads to more that’s cool too. I like hiking, graduated from Harvard, hanging with my bros, anything else hmu

Dave shakes his head as he reads the messages shared between the two of you. He scans reading hellos, good nights, sharing random facts about each other, until he stumbles upon the most recent messages

James: Hello gorgeous 😉

Hello 😊

James: So I’ve been thinking would you wanna meet up? Go get a drink or something?

Sure! 7 good?

James: Awesome! Yeah. Do you know where Sal’s is?

I do! It’s not far from my job

James: Perfect! I’ll see ya then beautiful

No. No way in hell is this James guy meeting up with you. Dave calls the office letting them know he’s taking a personal day, he has some business to take care of.

—

Sal’s is exactly what you expected it to be. Dark, dingey, and small. Not too crowded thankfully, it’s definitely got character though. The random decor on the wall is confusing. You can’t tell if this is supposed to be a sports or a punk bar with the random band posters on the wall along with sports jerseys next to them.

Making your way to the bar you sit down on a stool, flagging down the bartender.

“What’s your poison for the night?” He asks, wiping his hands on the towel he was carrying.

“Jack and Coke,” you say, slipping your hand into your bag to get your wallet out. He makes quick work of mixing the drink and placing it in front of you, handing over your card while you hear the jingle of the door.

“Starting a tab?” The bartender asks, swiping your card.

“No, thank you,” you smile as he hands your card back to you, putting it back in your wallet.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see someone standing a couple stools away. Looking down at your drink, moving the straw around before taking a drink. You take a peek at your watch to see it’s 10 minutes before you’re supposed to meet James. 

Maybe this was a bad idea, you haven’t had to do this in months. It was easier when Dave just kind of fell into your life.

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you heard the familiar timber of his voice, head snapping to look at him. Dave. His smirk as he waits on his drink says it all, he knew you would be here. Was he James?

“Are you fucking serious?” You hiss through your teeth.

Dave thanks the bartender, moving closer to you.

“I come in peace,” Dave says, sitting in the stool one away from you, “All I want to do is talk.”

“Are you James?” You ask through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

“Oh baby,” Dave tuts, “I’m not James, he’s very real.”

You continue to glare at him. Unable to force your brain to work with your limbs on moving, leaving, throwing your drink on him. Anything other than sitting here being in his presence.

“He wasn’t hard to convince to leave you alone though,” Dave looks at you with a smirk, one eyebrow raised and begins to chuckle, “One mention of snapping any finger that touches you sent him running.”

You try to swallow but your throat feels like a desert, gripping the tumbler in front of you and taking a swig. Did he… did he do something to James? Surely not, Dave wouldn’t even kill the spider that appeared in your apartment one day, scooped it up and took it outside. How could he cause harm to anything?

“Dave did you…” pausing pondering how to even ask the question.

“Did I hurt him?” Dave asks, scooting to the stool next to you and leaning in closer, invading your space and you nod your head, “No, just made it known what’s mine.”

You let out a sharp gasp at his words, arousal seeping into the gusset of your underwear, thighs clenching together at his closeness, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin. This shouldn’t be happening but your body thinks otherwise.

“I’ve missed you baby,” Dave hums into your ear, “Don’t like how we ended things.”

The way he says it has the ice around your heart melting. You hate him but can’t help the way your heart betrays your brain at his words. Dave lets out a small growl, gripping your bare thigh beneath the bar top possessively.

“I’m staying in a hotel room tonight,” he says, the grip on your thigh becoming less and smoothing his hand against your inner thigh. Gliding his hand up, up, up. Pinky finger playing with the edge of your underwear under your skirt.

You grab his hand and pull it away from your core, bringing it to rest on your lap. Lacing your fingers with his, while his thumb rubs along your palm. You sigh, contemplating what to do. Go with him or send him packing like last time. The devil on your shoulder telling you to go with him, it’s just stress relief, it won’t- it can’t mean anything, he knows your body better than anyone else. The angel on the other side just repeating the same words, he’s still married.

In the words of your mother, if he doesn’t cheat with you then he’ll just find someone else. Might as well have fun.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confess with a soft whimper in his ear. Finally seeing him again after months of nothing has your practical sense crumbling. 

“Let’s go then,” Dave smirks, standing pulling your hand slightly to stand with him and leave.

—

Dave drove like a bat out of hell to the hotel, dragged you to the elevator and his room as if this was his last chance to have you. Clothes flying off the moment you crossed the threshold of the room.

“Dave,” you moan, his lips ghosting down your neck to your collarbone. His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against his front, feeling his erection against your stomach.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he groans, his mouth sucking the flesh of your breast, capturing your nipple in his mouth and giving it a nip. A whine escapes past your lips at the sudden pressure of his teeth, moving your body with him until you feel the back of your knees hit the bed.

Dave releases your nipple, pushing himself against you to lay back on the bed, making room for himself between your thighs. His dark eyes swimming with lust study your face. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Why’d you let me leave like that?” His voice barely a whisper, lying his forehead against your own.

“You’re married,” you wince hearing the words leave your throat. You shouldn’t be doing this.

“I can change that,” he smirks with a chuckle, kissing the corner of your mouth, “I’d leave if it meant you’d stay,” kissing your jaw, “I’d spend every single day of my life making you happy,” he coos, trailing his lips down to your neck, laving his tongue against your pulse point.

“Dave,” you plead, hoping to stop his words. You don’t want to hear this, it’s all lies to get you to stay. The ache between your thighs begging for more.

“Mean it baby,” Dave says with a hum, mouth traveling down the expanse of your body, “Only want you,” he breathes when his face inches away from your sex, “Looks like you want me too,” he teases.

You feel the warmth spreading through your body as he sighs using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, staring at your glistening slit.

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely missed me,” he hums, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Dave,” you gasp, gripping the sheets between your fingers. He works his tongue along your bundle of nerves swirling and sucking.

“God I’ve missed this pussy,” Dave growls, gripping your hips tightly before fucking you with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you moan, back arching off the bed. The fire in your abdomen grows more intense. You reach for one of his hands, linking your fingers with his. His other hand moving, fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please,” you beg, “Dave, pl- please. More, I- I need m-“, you cry out when his fingers plunge into your cunt. Swiftly curling them inside you as he moves the pads of his fingers back and forth putting delicious pressure against your g-spot.

“That’s it baby,” Dave groans, nipping your inner thigh, “Let me have it.”

Your toes curl feeling the coil in your lower belly tightening, leaning your head up to watch him. He looks as wrecked as you feel as he rapidly flits his tongue against your clit. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked his mouth and fingers in sync for you to reach your climax, his lips shiny from your arousal. He opens his eyes to see your mouth hung open in a silent scream, brows pinched together as you pant looking into his eyes.

“Dave,” you pant, “Baby, I’m gonna come.”

Your walls clamp down on his fingers as you stare into his dark orbs. White hot heat spreads throughout your body, letting out a soft shriek.

“Flip over,” Dave instructs, moving your pliable limbs so you’re on your stomach. You cry out as he pushes his cock into you sharply.

“Fuck.”

“Shhh,” Dave tuts, “It’s okay baby, you can take it.”

You whine, it feels like he’s splitting you in two, walls gripping his length. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before he’s roughly snapping his hips into you.

“Make you mine again,” Dave grunts, “No one else deserves you.”

The pain quickly turns into pleasure as he works his cock in and out. The sound of your squelching pussy filling your ears as strangled noises crawl up your throat.

“God damn baby,” Dave hisses, tilting your hips up as he grinds his hips into you, hitting that spot deep inside only he’s been able to reach.

“Missed this so,” he grunts, slapping your ass, “Fucking,” another slap against your skin, “Much,” another harsh slap before soothing the marks he’s left with his palm.

“Dave,” you let out a choked sob, feeling the pleasure building, thrusting your hips back into him, “Faster.”

“Dirty girl,” Dave hums, gripping your hips again, pounding into your pussy at a frantic pace, “You gonna- oh fuck- come again?”

You can only nod your head weakly, feeling the sizzling pressure in your abdomen start to boil over. Your walls spasming and contracting around his cock. The muscles in your legs tensing before screaming out.

“Oh fuck,” Dave moans, “That’s it baby. Come on my cock. Just like that.”

Dave leans over caging you between his arms, thrusting into your wet heat a half a dozen times before his hips start to lose rhythm and going still, your name tumbling from his lips, letting your walls milk his cock feeling the warmth of his seed paint your walls.

“I really have missed you,” Dave admits slumping against you with a sigh, “So fucking much.”

He kisses your shoulder before pulling out with a hiss. You groan feeling the emptiness before he helps you up, guiding you to the bathroom.

You shower together, taking time to wash each other with delicate touches, and sharing intimate kisses before crawling back into bed with his arms wrapped around you.

You wake sometime in the middle of the night. Dave’s snoring beside you, finding your phone amongst your belongings scattered around the room, you make your way to the bathroom. Looking at Dave sleeping so peacefully from the doorway of the bathroom you can’t help feeling torn. You loved him, still do if you’re being honest with yourself, but this isn’t what you two should be doing.

You find an uber available and schedule to be picked up. Quietly making your way out of the bathroom and grabbing your things when you hear two identical dings. One from your hand and one from Dave’s bag. Slipping your clothes back on you slowly wander over to his things. Rummaging around until you find a phone, similar to yours. Pushing the button on the side you see a notification for an Uber 5 minutes away, looking at your own phone to see it displaying the same.

“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself, head snapping to look at Dave hoping you didn’t wake him. You look around to find a pen and piece of paper.

—

Dave wakes the next morning with a smile, remembering what happened last night. Sliding his hand to where you should be, feeling the cool sheets under his palm, peeking an eye open to see the empty spot next to him.

He listens closely to his surroundings, hoping to hear the shower but is met only with silence. Frowning as he sits up, scrubbing his hands against his face trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Looking around the room for any sign of you, taking note of your things being gone.

He sees a folded piece of paper lying on top of something on the dresser. Dave gets up to inspect what it is. His name is on the paper, sitting on top of two phones. Immediately recognizing one as yours and the other the duplicate he had made. His eyes scan the note you left, unable to believe what he was reading.

You’ll never be anything but a lying, cheating, manipulative douchebag. Figure your shit out. Don’t ever reach out to me again.

Dave’s hand curls into a fist as he reads the note over and over again. You left. You really left and this time it’s going to be even harder to find you.

He smirks, shaking his head as he collapses on the edge of the bed. You must not realize how much he loves a challenge.

🫠🫠🫠

This… 😮‍💨

🥵🥵

take a guess (your father should know)

warning(s): explicit 18+, smut, daddy kink, plot with porn, marijuana, alcohol mention, wet & messy, dbf!joel, age difference, daddy issues, etc.

combining two requests cause why not! and doing a lil bit more plot than usual cause also why not. enjoy enjoy the filth! this one’s riddled with daddy issues sooo

-

joel, your father’s infamous ex-best friend has flipped your expectations of him right on your head enough times to where you couldn’t keep count or track. you’d expected at the tender age of forty-three he’d be married raising teenagers — but no. instead he had blended in more with the artsy, eccentric loner-type.

had spared you questionably long gazes under that thick beard, undoubtedly hiding some natural crow’s feet. he wore his age and his experience on his shoulders and exuded a particular, unique nonchalance that left a long lasting impression on you. especially when your father first befriended him.

college started right around the corner around the time you started seeing him swing by to drink and play guitar with your dad pretty frequently. granting you a nod of his head while he kept a toothpick to chew on between his lips.

while you lived in your childhood bedroom, still skating through all your general ed classes your first year he had already stopped coming around. you didn’t have the heart to ask your dad whatever had happened, but his name alone became taboo around the house, leaving his brooding looks and exceptionally broad shoulders nothing but a mere memory to you.

all’s you heard around town now was that after him and your father had a falling out, joel seemingly resumed his familiarly isolated lifestyle. only hanging around town alone or with his brother tommy, and you imagine little else being interesting beyond that. he didn’t ever even go on a date to your knowledge.

that being said, it still left you a blubbery-stomach’d mess to see him again in the flesh for the first time in over two years at your local coffee shop on a lucky tuesday.

looking about as rugged and worn in as expected, tired bags and a matching stern disposition still present in him when he orders his coffee — black with two sugars. flannel, cross between grunge and lumberjack while those same arms you remember all those years ago still bulge through every shirt.

the trepidation of going up to him suffocates you. it’s challenging not to feel as if you’re some fan bothering him for an autograph when you go up towards where he sat alone to say your long awaited hello.

the gruff resting frown-face turned into a warm smile at an instant once he looked up and identified who it is that’s just approached him.

the words he used and the way he used them still to this day force this feeling of unadulterated electricity down your spine and straight through your core. only alleviated by rubbing your thighs together could you reminisce about the first time he looked up; smiled, grabbed tight on your shoulders to bring you in for a welcoming hug and said—

“hey there, pretty lady. s’been too long since I’ve seen this face,” he smiles. cheeky while those arms start to squeeze you.

joel gave you his number and told you to ’reach out to him sometime’.

taking forty-eight hours just to gain the courage, you swallowed any vile insecurities stopping you from going after what you want. what you’ve craved ever since.

the first hangout felt casual in nature. joel had cracked open two beers for both of you while you binged horror comedies in his living room. you bonded over his intense and impressive record collection, the vast amount of genres he collected and listened to was yet another reason you’d fallen deep into your attraction to him.

right as summer was barely beginning to set in, you’d say you were at a point where you’ve had plenty of innocent nights with joel at his flat.

but it wasn’t until the hot nights started creeping in that things started to turn around and change.

he started smoking weed with you after he learned that you’d picked up the habit long before college to have a toke and release some stress. you can remember the state of his red cheeks when you told him how some strains make you really horny.

you thought you had no sure shot in hell of one little comment to have you ending up with your panties in his mouth, that gigantic fucking cock you’ve fantasized about now pulsing right between your thighs so gorgeously, and making his mark right inside your wet little walls.

of course he could read the bewilderment and excitement swirled together expression glued onto your face when he’s inching his boxers down his muscular thighs and whipping out his fat cock. to start masturbating. in front of you.

your dad’s old best friend, whom he’d had this mysterious falling out with — the details never spared to you by either of the men. but considering how nasty and deep and hard he’s pounding into you, it had to have been something substantial.

that first time, he had taken you and fucked you right on the couch of his living room, had you whimpering sheepishly down into the pillows while his cock was slowly shoving its way fully inside. balls deep.

“didn’t think you’d end up like this tonight, huh slutty girl? didn’t think your pussy would be begging to take all this?”

you came and trembled after the dirty words left his lips. he kept his cock nudged in the most exquisite spot. milking your pussy all around him for both your simultaneous pleasures.

it was clear why you couldn’t stop coming back after that. joel had a cock that treated you damn good in bed. he’d always whisper filth and moan obscenities every single time he slithered his way back into your panties. always watched you with those lingering, eager eyes that scan your entire body.

he started to call himself daddy the third time you came over. it was enough to make you squeal, hearing his deep, low gruff refer to himself as your play parental figure as his fingers rub your clit in addicting circles. lying to your friends, you say you don’t get turned on by calling a man, especially an older man your daddy. it felt corny, and performative, and overtly pornagraphic.

but when he ducks his face between your legs, and lays his first kiss onto your beating pulsing clit with his arms keeping you pinned to his tongue — you can’t help but writhe and moan joel’s newfound nickname.

tonight wasn’t any different. he’d taken you twice already today, once early in the morning and another time an hour ago after he rubbed your back and made you breakfast.

now he’s spreading your exposed sopping lips to gape you open with two of his fingers, humming approvingly at the drips spilling down your pussy and staining your sticky inner thighs.

“yeah sugar, let’s open that beautiful pussy back up. mhm. daddy’s never finished with you—needs you too much.”

his bare cock slaps against an ass cheek, almost demanding its way back in. so veiny and swollen like he didn’t unload inside you an hour ago, the length of it bobbing back and forth with the chilling movements of his hips.

“feel all that? it’s gotta all go back inside you baby. taking you again. s’many times as your daddy wants.”

you gulp and say nothing, do nothing. just staying pliant and wide open for him when he’s in daddy mode.

“let’s feel up what’s dripping outta you babygirl. oh, fuck. still so messy and pretty down here. I’ll clean you up after this round.”

blushing at the promise of taking care of you in any way, you feel your heartbeat in your pussy riling you up again. slapping his cock against you another few times as he strokes it, awestruck by the sight before him and the way your pussy clenched and glistened responding to him. his dick grows while the globe of the tip glazes your hole creating a loud long squish.

the gushing stimulation overwhelms him and thrills him. feeling it directly inside you how hard your pussy came before he wanted to fuck you some more.

“feels so good around daddy’s dick. she’s so nice n’ creamy for me.” he whispers through a long stretch of heavy breathing.

after his taut heavy balls were resting on your clit, you felt his entire length sliding snug inside you up to your belly button. he slides all the way out before intentionally ramming right back in. your legs have already started to shake on him. giving out as his hip motions help his cock locate every one of your spots while your old cum starts to really smear his dick.

harmonic wet slapping at rapid pacing had joel bulging with delight. thrusting every inch he was blessed with, having your mess combining with both your inner thighs getting coated with spend from the contact. joel almost can’t stand the sight of it without fucking cumming, busting his load to mix your cream with his. see and touch your swollen, exhaustingly pretty pussy. once he zeros in on every thrust, watching him enter and leave your body again and again shoves him off the ledge of control.

“daddy’s n-not—not gonna last, sweet fuck you’re squeezing my cock. mmm, that’s my babygirl, she knows exactly how to make daddy feel good.”

you’re a riled up mess beneath him, pushing back onto his cock to meet him in the middle as he slams it in at an outrageous pace. you could tell that he wasn’t lying, that your pussy truly did a number on him. he found his weakness every single time he either spread your thighs and went down on you or slid his member in all the way home.

“shit, here it comes—fuck! oh….. tell—tell daddy you love him. please.”

you don’t (and can’t) halt any of your wailing underneath him, still squeezing on his cock and hopping up and down. following directions felt so natural, so easy with him.

you clench as you ride him while he’s now stunned still.

“I love you, daddy. I need to have your cum in my pussy. please. I need as many as you’ll give me, mmmdaddy—please!”

joel knows it’s over for him now.

he can’t hold it back after he stammers, “y’gonna let daddy cum m’all over this innocent little pussy? ruin that perfect daughter image, huh good girl?”

joel’s cock twitches and jolts while his cum load fills you up to the very brim, the milky mess of it already trailing down after he’d emptied it.

you cum at the same time he’s twitching inside you, yelling his name and his nickname while you convulse all around the length of him.

“s’right. yeah, release it all over me baby. wanna make you feel good like that. that’s it, keep taking what you need. I’ll take it out whenever you’re ready,” he pants, giving you the lightest of spanks while you bask in the high of your afterglow.

slowly becoming aware of the utter mess in and around your legs along with his, you attempt to catch your breath and hold onto the pillow before giving him the green light to pull out. joel is delicate, always gentle with you as he exits your body, leaving behind his juices swishing with yours. a picture perfect image he can’t help but drink in the sight, before literally going down and sticking his face in to drink and lick your thighs and your opening clean. the hot tongue swirls so gently, wiggling everywhere to clean and worship you while you pull his hair and scream daddy.

when you cum pathetically hard on him again, he pulls the plug for real by grabbing a washcloth to wipe his dick and your legs before plopping himself down to snake a joint to light up.

your arm wraps itself securely around his toned torso. feeling his heart beating wildly out of his chest from the thrill of having you again makes you bury an unstoppable smile creeping up.

joel rubs your back, in his own world, taking easy tokes off the nearly baseball bat sized spliff. the smoke slowly floats out of the cracked window. his fingers that surely still had remnants of you all over them ash the joint in a cup on his side table before turning towards you in a fresh haze, raising a brow in offering a hit.

it burns your throat but he has a cold glass of water readily available. some odd number puffs later you both feel the unwinding, even if his dick alone had a similar effect on you.

“f’you wanna cum again, you lemme know. I’ll take care of you,” joel whispers, tracing absentminded shapes on your skin, dreamily drinking you in. “know how to fuck every last thought out f’this pretty little head.”

a worn out smile is all you have in you to answer, and he surprises you with a brief kiss on your head before ashing the remaining spliff in the cup and resumes his way of aftercare on you.

it’s risky to ask what you incline on asking him, but after the cloudy fog comes it eases your brain of the real world consequences. you rub his chest while you’re asking it, softly —

“what ever happened between you and him?”

after it leaves your mouth you have no way of guessing how joel will react. if his walls will come up, or if he’ll let them all down for once and reveal it to you.

it hangs in the air for an awkward several seconds, as if he’s unsure how to react either. but when he does, he kisses your forehead longer this time and squeezes your shoulder protectively.

joel’s voice is hoarse but gentle when he shrugs and murmurs, “think by now you can take a guess.”

your eyes don’t ever leave to stop observing him, his bed head you tugged on, his lips you’ve kissed and finished on. it’s undeniable how beautiful this man is, and how baffled you are at what he’s insinuating.

“we both know you aren’t a damn kid. you’re an adult, one that can make decisions,” he states, looking up at the ceiling before shaking his head and going back in for another smoke. he inhales another cloud all to blow it out and whisper like it’s still a secret,

“if I wanted to make a.. a move, it wasn’t gonna be in that vicinity of his. n’I could see how you deserve to be treated better, treated with—with care,” he stutters. offers you some more that you accept, hastily taking more puffs and filling your lungs with smoke.

“I mean, baby am I wrong? about him? about you deserving better?”

joel’s tone is littered in desperation. a worry that you feel immediately invested to soothe for him. scratching his scalp and rubbing his arms to show him what you’re trying to tell him.

you mirror his shrug from earlier, looking at him in his glassy eyes before kissing his knuckle and answering, “I think we can both guess.”

it’s evident in those furrowed angry brows, and shiny striking stare that it pains joel to hear that but also only makes him want to readily be there for you; fuck all the stress and all the worry out of you every day that you want it.

“it isn’t right. wanting you like this… but I’m helpless to it, to you…”

his little speech trails off into nothing while his lips start to drift to your neck and take turns nibbling and kissing.

joel nearly cries outright at the feeling of your touch stroking him again, feeling the blood rushing straight down to his cock, growing substantially quicker in size for you.

“yeah, babygirl. that’s your cock. do anything you want to this cock. daddy’ll allow it,” he breathes. you gaze up at him while he hurriedly lights the same leftover joint right back up again, hitting it while your tongue explores the underside of the veins of his dick.

“fucking perfect,” joel can’t help but marvel. blowing smoke down to shotgun it at you, breathing in his hit as you tease his member.

“m’helpless to you too. I need this,” you confess, sinking your lips down on the head and giving him a good long suck. joel’s hips stutter as his tip leaks pre-cum, directly landing right on your tongue. “I can’t live without your cum, daddy. I can’t.”

“oh, shhh…. shhh, daddy knows, daddy knows baby, you’re ‘bout to make me fucking cum doing that….”

just then your mouth travels further down and suckles down onto each of those mouthwatering balls, lightly tugging for more sloppy friction.

joel howls and mewls, spanking your ass while you continue your suckling and drink up his thick load one more time for the night before tomorrow, when you’ll both wake up and do it all over again.

-

Ack! I loved this so much!!!

😍🫠😍🫠

Pretty Little Poison

Pairing: dbf!/cowboy Joel Miller X fem!Reader | W/C: ~7.2K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: None of this would have happened if you hadn’t walked into the Spur.  In that goddamn dress. In those goddamn boots. You’re all curvy hips with cherry red lips. None of it, but of course, you did. And damn if he isn’t grateful. No matter how bad his knuckles hurt, he’d do it again. Because you’re his. Your daddy might not know it yet, hell, the whole town might not know it yet, but you’re sure as fuck about to.

A/N: Welp. Like I said before, I've fallen into the hole that is Cowboys, and I fear I can't get out. Nor do I want to; the fictional cock is great down here. What is it about a cowboy that looks like he can sweep you off your feet in one second and fuck you until you forget your own name the next? Sigh. Anyway...enjoy this depravity. I know I sure did writing it.

Warnings: POV-Switching. Jealous Joel/Angry Joel. Fighting/blood. Flirting/Teasing. Light choking. Age gap but not mentioned (make it your own). Pet name (Princess). Flirting. Oral (m receiving)/face fucking. Fingering. Praise kink. Degradation if you squint. Creampie. Aftercare. Feelings. Alcohol. TLOU au. No use of Y/N. No use of daddy. Use of good girl. Reader has female sex anatomy and has slight implied feminine descriptors. Reader has long enough hair to grip, but no further details are mentioned. Let me know if I missed anything! Masterlist | Notifications | Read on AO3

JOEL 

None of this would have happened if you hadn’t walked into the Spur. 

In that goddamn dress. In those goddamn boots. You’re all curvy hips with cherry red lips.

None of it, but of course, you did. 

And damn if he isn’t grateful. No matter how bad his knuckles hurt, he’d do it again just to get you in the same position – on your knees, eyes glassy, pupils blown open wide with lust – jaw hinged open, just for him. 

Because you’re his. 

Your daddy might not know it yet, hell, the whole town might not know it yet, but you’re sure as fuck about to.

++++

The Spur is a nightmare tonight – packed to the brim.

Fridays were always wild, sure, but I’m used to watching it all unfold from the other side of the bar, whiskey in hand, not pouring it. Frank sure as hell didn’t mention that owning this place—my place now—would feel like wrangling a stampede every damn night.

And to top it off, the band’s late. No Johnny Cash soon, and I’ll have more than a crowd on edge—I’ll have a riot, or worse, an empty bar.

Thank God Tommy agreed to help out tonight, though I’m praying he spends more time serving than drinking. With him behind the bar, I can run tables, refill drinks, and handle the hundred different emergencies this place throws at me.

I tell myself to stay focused. Keep moving, keep pushing. 

Then I see it—a flash of red from a table up front.

I didn’t have to look long to know it was you. I’d recognize those red boots anywhere. Usually they’re the showstopper, but shit, not tonight. The dress you’re wearing looks like it was made for you, but the thing that’s really got my attention are those cherry fucking red lips of yours. 

God, I want to ruin them. 

With my mouth…or my cock. I wouldn’t be picky. I already had difficulty controlling my body’s reaction to you, but that was before I knew how sweet your kisses tasted, and now that I do, I’m in trouble. 

I want you so bad. 

Looking around, I take note that I might not be the only one. 

YOU 

You’ve always liked Joel a little jealous—it never took much to light that fire in him. 

Every Saturday before you left for college, when he came over for beers and pizza with your dad, you’d throw on your shortest skirt, linger at the door, fiddling with your purse just long enough to catch his eye. You loved the way his gaze would follow, the way his jaw would clench. 

And when the screen door slammed shut, you’d hear him mutter to your dad, voice low and firm, “You’re just gonna let her go out like that?”

You lived for it—the way your body would heat up, the pulse between your legs quickening as you imagined that vein in his neck bulging, that scowl on his face the next morning when he came over for coffee. 

Just stopping by, he’d say, but you really knew he wanted to see if you made it home for the night or ended up in someone else’s sheets. 

He’d try to hide it, his interest in you, but it didn’t work.To be fair, you did play a little unfair – the way you’d stretch just right as you reached for the cup on the top shelf, giving him a glimpse of the curve of your ass in your tightest black shorts. Or coming down the stairs in a silky white shirt that didn’t do much to hide your perky nipples. 

It was all just a game—innocent, fun. Girls just wanna have fun, right? And sure, Joel was devastating for a man his age—dark hair streaked with silver, skin kissed golden by the Texas sun, dusted with freckles that made your head spin. Broad shoulders that made you wonder if Doritos modeled their logo after him. 

But he was your dad’s best friend, a line you never cross, no matter how hard it was at times.

For years, it stayed that way—hot glances, stern looks, and a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

But it was all harmless, just a game.

Until last week.

You’d come home from New York, fresh degree in hand, ready to take on Austin. Unlike your sister, you knew this was home—you always intended to come back. What you didn’t expect was to be picked up by Joel at the airport after your flight landed earlier than expected. “Joel’ll get you, Sweetie,” your dad had said, stuck in the town over on job, “you still have your key, right?”

Time had passed, but the second you saw him leaning against that old truck, flannel stretched tight over those broad forearms, you knew you were still in way too deep. Years hadn’t dulled it, hadn’t even come close. Does the man ever age? You hadn’t seen him in years, and yet, somehow, he managed to get hotter while you were away. 

It didn’t take more than five minutes for you both to fall into your old patterns. Except this time felt different – dangerous, even. Why? Because you’re starting to realize that the invisible line of this is your father's best friend, he’s off limits was starting to blur. 

“Hi, Princess,” he murmured, his lips brushing your cheek in a fleeting kiss. As he drew back, his gaze lingered on your lips, a moment too long, too intense. “It’s good to have you back.” Despite yourself, warmth flooded through you at the nickname—Princess—a private endearment born the day you landed Belle in your high school's production of Beauty and the Beast. He remained the sole person who could call you that without earning a scowl.

As the truck crunched over the gravel driveway, the sound pulled you right back—back to those wild days as a 21-year-old, stirring up trouble, doing whatever it took to torment your dad’s best friend, just for the sheer thrill of watching him squirm.

You caught up on the drive home, exchanging the polite, predictable questions you'd expect from your dad’s best friend. The small talk was easy, comfortable, but then, five minutes from the ranch, he hit you with a question that threw you off balance.

"So, you still seeing that Jack fella?" His grip on the steering wheel tightened just a little, his knuckles flexing as he asked.

“John,” you corrected.

“Right, him,” he said, brushing off the name like it didn’t matter. “He treating you right?”

He glanced over at you, his soft brown eyes unreadable, but there was something deeper behind them.

“Kinda hard to treat someone right when you’re not together anymore,” you replied, casting a look at him from under your lashes.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Don’t look too pleased about that, Joel, really," you teased, but the hint of a smile deepened on his face.

“'M not. Sorry to hear it didn’t work out,” he said, his voice gentle, but the action that followed spoke louder. His hand—large and heavy—settled on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. He didn’t pull away, even when it clicked that he probably should.

“I’m not,” you said, your eyes meeting his, loaded with a meaning that needed no explanation.

The ranch came into view, the gravel road winding to the house. Silence fell between you, but it wasn’t empty—it was thick with unspoken words. The truck rolled to a stop, and you reached for the door, but before you could touch the handle, Joel was already there, pulling it open like he couldn’t wait a second longer.

His hands found your waist as he helped you down from the bed of the truck, the roughness of his calloused fingers igniting a wildfire beneath your skin. Each touch was electric, a spark that lit you up from the inside out. You’d never been touched by him like this—aside from the occasional hug. But in just the last hour, he’d kissed your cheek, caressed your thigh, and now, his hands were on your waist. What was happening?

The walk to the front door felt like torture, each step dragging out the tension, with the weight of his gaze scorching you from behind. You could feel him watching you, undressing you with his eyes, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the heat. You fidgeted with the strap of your bag, trying to keep your cool. Soon, you'd be inside the safety of home, away from whatever sexy spell had overtaken Joel Miller.

With the keys in the lock, you paused, stealing a glance over your shoulder. He stood there, devastatingly handsome in the fading light, looking like he was ready to devour you. “Well, thanks for the ride, goodnight, Jo—”

Before you could finish, his hand hooked around your belt loop, tugging you back to him with a swift pull. His voice dropped, low and rough, “Fuck it.”

In one motion, he had you pressed against the sun-warmed wood of the front door, the heat still radiating off it from the day. His hand snaked up to your throat, gently but firmly pulling you closer, and then his mouth was on yours—hot, fierce, and full of hunger. There was no tenderness, no hesitation. He took what he wanted, what you’d been offering him for years in stolen glances and teasing touches.

It was messy, breathless, and everything you’d ever imagined. When Joel finally pulled back, his chest heaving, his eyes dropped to his boots, lingering for a beat before lifting to meet yours, like he was trying to figure out what came next. 

“Welcome home, Princess,” he muttered, voice thick and low, then stepped back, leaving you there, breathless, aching, and utterly confused.

Hours later, you found yourself in your childhood room, unpacking into the same old dresser drawers, the familiarity of it doing little to calm the storm in your head. The soft buzz of your phone pulled you from your thoughts, and when you glanced at the screen, his name lit up.

That probably shouldn’t happen again.

Right. A smirk tugged at your lips as you tapped out your response. 

We’ll see about that, Cowboy.

You hit send, tossed the phone onto the mattress, and headed to the bathroom for a shower. A long, cold one.

JOEL 

Get your shit together, Miller, I internally tell myself, hoping the blood in my cock would make its way back up to my brain. 

You're at the table with a group of girls, laughing, the kind of easy, carefree laugh that makes me pause. Some of the faces are familiar, girls from town, but others are strangers. As I scan the group, I instinctively search for Cleo—your best friend since sixth grade—but she's nowhere to be found. Odd, considering you two are usually joined at the hip.

That’s when I catch Tommy’s shit-eating grin from behind the bar. And sure enough, there’s Cleo, working her magic on my little brother, who's too pussy-drunk to realize he's being played. She’s got those signature fuck me eyes locked on him, and he’s falling for it—hook, line, and sinker. A bright pink sash that reads "Birthday Girl" is draped across her dress as she saunters back toward your table with four drinks in hand, none of which she paid for. You and the other girls are waiting, oblivious to the little scene playing out behind the bar.

You haven’t noticed me yet, and that’s perfect. This is going to be fun.

I walk behind the bar, throwing Tommy a you know I saw that look. He does his best to play it cool, busying himself by wiping down a bottle of Bulleit, avoiding the invisible ones I’m mentally shooting his way.

I can't remember the last time I made a birthday cake shot—hell, maybe I’ve never even made one before. But screw it, it seems like the kind of thing a group of girls celebrating would want. I mean, it's got birthday in the name, right? Besides, it’ll be the perfect excuse to get closer to you, see if you’re still playing this game or if it’s time for me to make the next move.

I load the shots onto a tray and head toward your table. This was it. I had a plan—a simple, respectable plan: deliver the shots, maybe say something polite, and leave you alone for the rest of the night. But a few steps away, you catch my eye and smile, and suddenly the plan unravels. My grip on the tray falters. Fuck.

"Ladies," I say, the word falling out of my mouth before I can stop it. Great, I think, I sound like an idiot. "Heard it was someone’s birthday," I add, meaning to look at Cleo, but my eyes stay locked on you, refusing to move.

And just like that, I’m caught.

“Yeah, that’s why you’re bringing us free drinks, Miller,” Cleo fires back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I manage to tear my gaze from you, shooting her a quick look. "You know, darlin', I can take these right back," I say, trying to regain some control.

I set the tray down on the table, watching as you and your friends each grab a shot. You’re extra careful with yours, trying to avoid getting whipped cream on your fingers, but it’s no use. And I’m glued to the spot as you pop your finger into your mouth, licking it off slowly, never breaking eye contact. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was working—too damn well.

My jeans tighten, and I curse under my breath. Does everything you do have to give me a hard-on?

Cleo’s laugh cuts through the tension. "Holy shit, Joel-y, did you actually make us birthday cake shots? I didn’t know you served anything other than beer and whiskey neat."

“Yeah, well... don’t get used to it,” I reply, biting back the urge to tell Cleo to knock it off with that damn nickname. The last thing I want is to come off like a jackass in front of you.

I stand there like an idiot, watching as you and the girls clink your glasses, hit them against the table, and knock back the shots. But it’s your throat I can’t tear my eyes from—watching you swallow was a big mistake. I shift my stance, making a quick adjustment before you notice how out of sorts I really am. 

The empty glasses land back on the tray, and I grab it like it’s a lifeline. “Happy Birthday, Cleo,” I say, my voice steady, but my eyes still locked on you. Then, with a wink in your direction, I turn and walk away, fighting the urge to look back.

++++

I keep an eye on you all night. Not in a creepy way—more of a just looking out for my buddy’s daughter kind of thing. Yeah, okay, that’s bullshit. I’m watching you because you’re stunning, and I’m not the only guy in here who’s noticed. Every time some fool looks your way, I feel my jaw tighten a little more.

After the birthday shot I brought over, I noticed you pacing yourself with the drinks, which I appreciated. That is, until I spotted those little red boots of yours strutting straight for the bar. No way in hell I’m letting Tommy take your order, so I practically body-checked him to get there first.

I lean across the bar, trying to keep it casual. “What can I get you, darlin’?”

You give me a look that damn near stops my heart. “Depends. What are you willing to give me?”

I smirk, fighting the urge to say something reckless. “Whatever you can handle.”

You lean in closer, just enough for me to feel the heat between us. “Alright then. Take a shot with me.”

The boldness of your challenge catches me off guard, and it takes everything in me to stay composed. Maybe it’s the red on your lips or the fire in your eyes, but you’ve got me hooked. I grab two shot glasses, sliding them in front of us.

“Pick your poison,” I say.

“Bourbon,” you answer with that sweet-as-sin smile. Then you add, “Please,” with those damn doe eyes, and I know I’m already in trouble.

I turn, grab a bottle of bourbon from the back, and pour us both a shot, sliding yours across the bar.

“What are we drinking to?” I ask, trying to play it cool.

You raise your glass, locking eyes with mine. “Temptation, cowboy.”

Fuck.

Our glasses clink, and we throw back the shots, not breaking eye contact for a second. The bourbon burns, but all I can feel is the fire in your gaze. You hold it a beat longer before your eyes shift to the fruit tray beside me. Without a word, you reach for a cherry, slipping it between your lips—and I swear it takes every bit of self-control not to lose it right there.

Then, as if you’re trying to kill me, you bring your hand up to wipe away a drop of juice trailing down your chin. It keeps going, down to your collarbone, and I’m helpless to do anything but stare.

You don’t even notice.

And it’s all I can do to stop myself from leaning over the bar and licking it off for you.

I am so fucked.

YOU

“How much do I owe you?” you ask, tilting your head with a playful edge in your voice.

“On the house,” he replies, that sly grin curving across his lips—those perfect fucking lips.

“Are you sure?” you press, skepticism raising your brows, knowing damn well you’re pushing him.

He leans over the bar, motioning you closer with two fingers. You can smell him now, that intoxicating mix of bourbon and peppermint. His voice drops to a husky whisper, low enough that only you can hear, “You can thank me later by letting me tear that pretty little dress off of you.”

And just like that, after over a decade of teasing glances, lingering touches, a stolen kiss, a bit of red lipstick, and some bourbon—Joel Miller breaks. Finally.

You almost laugh, wishing someone had told you it would’ve been this easy years ago, but you keep your cool. You’ve played the game this long; no reason to lose your edge now.

“Thought you said nothing could happen between us again?” you tease, your voice low, your lips curling into a smirk. Gotcha.

You lean in a little more, the air between you thick with tension. “Thanks for the shot, Joel-y,” you purr, letting the nickname roll off your tongue before tossing him a wink and sauntering off, your hips swaying just enough to let him know you’ve already sealed the deal.

You know he’s watching—his eyes glued to every movement you make, jaw clenched tight with frustration. He’s hot when he’s jealous, sure, but the way his jaw ticks when he’s mad? That’s got your thighs clenching and your cunt dripping. But you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

Checkmate.

JOEL

I watch as you make your way back to your table, laughing with your friends, when you bump into a guy I don’t recognize. His hand lands on your waist to steady you, and in my head, I give him two seconds to take his hands off you before I take them off for him.

Thankfully, he does. Good. It wouldn’t exactly look great for the bar owner to start picking fights in his own place, but when it comes to you, my good sense has been thrown right out the door.

I roll my shoulders back, trying to keep the jealousy simmering just under the surface, but the way that prick smiled at you has me seeing red—not the good kind of red, like those lips or boots of yours. You were polite about it, quickly apologizing and moving on without much interaction, but the way his eyes followed you pisses me off. The bar’s getting busy now, and I’ve got a hundred things to keep track of, but keeping an eye on that asshole just got bumped to the top of the list.

I glance at my watch—nearly midnight. The crowd’s drunk, rowdy, and hyped up like you’d expect on a Saturday night in a small-town country bar. Cleo knows how to draw a crowd, alright. The band’s finally playing, and it’s halfway through Big and Rich’s “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” when I notice that same guy—and his crew—have worked their way over to your table.

They’re just talking. It’s a bar; people talk. Chill out, I tell myself.

Your friends are clearly enjoying the attention, flirting it up with these guys like it’s a game. One of them is even wearing a cowboy hat she didn’t come in with, and I have to bite my tongue to stop from pulling a full dad move and telling her what that really means.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a bit of satisfaction when I see that while your friends are eating it up, you’re not. I can tell by the way you keep glancing at Cleo, leaning away, fidgeting with your straw in that nearly watered-down drink of yours.

I wander over to a nearby table, close enough to step in if I need to, and catch your eye as I do. Just then, that same guy rests his hand on your bare knee, and my spine snaps straight. You shrug him off, but he puts it right back.

Absolutely fucking not.

I’m at your table in seconds. “Hey, man, take your fucking hand off her,” I say, my voice low and menacing, the kind of tone I use when I’m really pissed.

His eyes flick up to mine, surprised, but he doesn’t move. “Now,” I growl, my patience hanging by a thread.

“Chill, old man. We’re just talking.”

“It doesn’t look like she wants to talk to you, kid,” I say, my eyes locking with yours. You’re giving me that Joel, don’t do this look, but I’m too far gone to care.

“We’re alright, aren’t we, baby?” the guy says, turning to you with a smug grin.

Baby? Not on my fucking watch. That’s it. I step in, grabbing him by the collar of his cheap shirt and yank him face-to-face with me.

“She’s not your fucking baby. Now take your friends and get the hell out of my bar.”

“You can’t be serious, man,” he stammers, eyes wide.

“As a heart attack,” I seethe, shoving him back. By now, Tommy’s made his way over from the bar, looking like he’s bracing for the shitstorm that’s about to unfold.

“Whatever, man. This place is lame, and this slut isn’t worth it,” the guy mutters, turning to walk away.

Tommy knows me too well. I see him pinch the bridge of his nose, like he’s already predicting my next move.

Before the guy can take another step, I grab his shoulder and swing, my fist connecting with a satisfying crack. The bar falls silent as bone meets bone, and the guy drops flat on the ground for a few seconds before scrambling back to his feet.

“Let’s see what you got, old man,” he snarls, coming at me with a wild swing. I catch his fist in my hand—his punch softer than the hands of someone who’s never done a day of hard work in his life—and twist his arm back.

Now standing between him and you, I make sure he’s far enough away that he couldn’t touch you if he tried. “I think you owe the lady an apology,” I say, tightening my grip until he groans in pain. “Don’t you?”

“What the fuck, man? What the hell is wrong with you?” he spits, struggling in my hold.

“Apologize,” I demand, twisting his arm harder. His eyes flash with defiance, but I squeeze tighter until the words grind out of his mouth like gravel.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, the words dripping with bitterness.

“Good. Now get the fuck out of my bar,” I say, shoving him into his friends, who look like they’re on the verge of pissing themselves.

They don’t wait for a second invitation.

“Sorry, man, we’ll get out of here,” one of the guy’s friends mutters, leading the group toward the door, clearly shaken. I almost feel bad for punching him—judging by the ache in my knuckles, I probably broke his nose—but no one gets away with talking to you like that. Not in my bar, not anywhere.

When the door finally shuts behind them, the whole place erupts in cheers. I guess when the bar owner punches someone, people assume they had it coming. But my focus isn’t on the noise around me. It’s on you.

Your arms are crossed over your chest, your eyes boring into me, clearly pissed. But I’m not about to give you the chance to chew me out in front of a crowd. Most people have already gone back to their drinks and music, the punch quickly becoming tonight's wild story.

Without a second thought, I stride over, grab you off your chair, and throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You let out a startled yelp, but I don’t miss a beat, making sure to keep that too short for its own fucking good dress of yours down so nobody gets a free show.

This has gone on long enough. You’re mine, and I’m done pretending otherwise. And tonight, I’m going to make sure you know it.

“Joel Miller, I swear to God, put me down! Are you out of your mind?”

“No can do, Princess,” I say, walking through the bar with you draped over my shoulder. Your fists pound against my back like you think it'll make a difference. Cute.

“You’re insane!”

“Yeah, well, you have a way of driving me there.”

“What are you talking about? Put me down!” Your protests are loud, but I ignore them. I don’t set you down until we’re in my office, the door slamming shut behind us. I lock it with a sharp click before lowering you to the ground. The second your feet hit the floor, you shove me hard.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Joel? You can’t just go around punching people when they talk to me.”

“He touched you first,” I growl.

“This isn’t some fucking romance novel! I don’t need you swooping in to ‘save’ me from some creep at the bar. I can handle myself.” You’re glaring at me, fire blazing in your eyes. Exactly how I like it.

“I know you can.”

“Then why the hell did you just assault one of your own customers?”

I grab your waist, pinning you to the door before you can react. My lips brush down the column of your neck, my hand following until I claim your mouth with a fierce kiss. I pull back, tilting your chin so you’re forced to meet my gaze.

“Because, Princess, seeing him touch you made me fucking lose it,” I growl, my breath hot against your skin. “You drive me insane.”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, anger flickering into something darker, more dangerous. “Joel, you can’t—” you stammer, but the words falter.

My other hand slides up your thigh, slipping beneath your dress. The soft skin under my fingers drives me wild. “Why not?”

“Because… hitting people is wrong. This… this is wrong. I’m your best friend’s daughter,” you manage, voice shaky.

“Because hitting people is bad. This is bad. I’m your best friends daughter.” I chuckled and moved my hand further up your dress to your panties. Or at least where they should have been. 

Fuck. 

“That may be the case, Princess. But you’re not a little girl anymore, are you? And I think it’s about time I give you a taste of your own medicine,” I say, grazing the line of your pussy lips. “You wanna know what I think is bad? You bringing this bare pussy into my bar like this.” 

I continue to tease you with my fingers, and you groan. 

Fuck. You make me insane. “She’s droolin’ for me, Princess. Shoulda told me this pussy was this juicy, and I woulda done this a long time ago,” the sound of the band drowns out everything outside of my office. It’s just us now. 

We’re not just crossing the line anymore—we’re obliterating it. We’re sprinting past, running laps around it, grinding it into the dirt with every reckless move we make, until it’s buried so deep it might as well have never existed at all.

“How long have you been like this?” 

“S–” I slip a finger into you, and you gasp. “Since I saw you behind the bar.” 

“Yeah? Is that why you came to take a shot with me, trying to get me to pay attention to this needly little cunt like you always do?” 

"I was thirsty." I chuckle darkly. "Thirsty, huh." I take a step back, slipping the finger that was just inside of you into my mouth, savoring your taste. God, you taste so fucking good. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey from my desk, I pull the stopper out with my teeth. “And are you still thirsty, Princess?” You nod without hesitation. “Open your mouth,” I command. You obey instantly, and the sight of your open mouth, ready and waiting, sends a jolt straight to my already hard cock. I take a long swig from the bottle but don’t swallow. My hand remains firm on your throat as I lean in, our faces close, and I slowly spit the whiskey into your mouth.

“Swallow,” and you do. I feel your throat work under my grip. Fuck. “Good girl.” 

I bring my hand back under your dress and watch as your eyes roll back into your skill as I slide my middle finger into your glistening hole. You start to move your hips, and I can’t help but add a second. I work you for a moment longer before quickly pulling my fingers away and stepping back. Your eyes shoot open. 

“Joel, what?” you ask, “Why are you stopping?” 

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” I say with a smile, sucking my fingers into my mouth, once again savoring the taste of you, enjoy the flavor of your slick mingling with the whiskey on my tongue. I take a step back, my cock painfully hard in my jeans, and take you in. 

God, you’re pretty like this. A little mad, flustered, dress wrinkled from my hands. I want to keep going, want to keep making a mess of you, but I need you to say it first. Need to know it’s what you actually want. 

“You’ve also been drinking,” I say, even though I know you’re not drunk, probably not even tipsy. 

“I’ve barely had anything to drink, I’m not drunk.” Just then, you press off the door and close the distance between us. “Well, if you won’t touch me, at least let me touch you,” you say, trailing your palm over my chest, fingertips catching on the buckle of my jeans before they fall lower to cup the hard bulge in my jeans.

“Let me take care of this,” you purr, and shit. How did this happen? I was supposed to be the one in control of this plane here. Mayday, mayday. We’re going down. 

“Princess,” I stutter, barely getting the words out, too lost in the feeling of you rubbing your hand over the denim, applying more pressure. I lean into it, craving the relief. You start to push me back towards my desk, and I let you, until the back of my legs hit the wood. 

You’re just standing there, holding my gaze, petting my cock like it’s a velvet bedspread. Just as I’m about to say something, you lower to your knees. Shit. Your hands move back to the metal of my belt buckle.

“May I?” 

As if I could ever say no. Words? They don’t exist anymore. Hell, I’m not even sure I exist anymore. Have I died and gone to heaven? I didn’t believe in God before this, but damn, I might start now, because from where I’m standing, you look like a fucking angel.

I nod, breath hitching as your fingers work the metal free.

“I wanna hear it,” you say, and god—every nerve in my body ignites.

“Yes, Princess. Let’s see how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth.” 

You have my pants undone and down in seconds, your movements quick and deliberate. Leaning in, you drag your tongue slowly along the length of my briefs, teasing, before pulling them down. My cock springs free, the relief of finally being out of those tight confines almost overwhelming. It practically tries to launch itself into your mouth, but you hold back, making me wait.

Instead, you wrap your hand around me, and lean in closer, your tongue flicking out to slowly lap up the bead of pre-cum at the tip. The groan that escapes me is involuntary—the feel of your hot, wet tongue against me sends a shudder down my spine. You lick me again, slow and deliberate, while your hand pumps the base of my cock. Fuck. If you keep this up, I’m going to lose it right here and now.

I force myself to think of anything else—anything not sexy. After some serious mental gymnastics, I manage to pull myself back from the edge. For now, I’m safe.

Well, at least I thought I was safe, and then you decided to put my cock in your mouth and take it as far down the back of your throat as you could go. Fuck. My hand instinctively wraps around the column of your throat, and I swear I feel you there. 

“Fuckkkkkk,” I groan. “God, you’re so fucking pretty like this, Princess.” I never really considered myself to be a vocal guy, but with you, all of that seemed to be thrown out the window. I’d sing you a fucking song if you asked me to right now. 

You’re taking me like a pro, even when I’m met with resistance at the back of your throat and you let out a little frustrated noise. “Didn’t think you could get any prettier, and then you started chocking on my cock,” I said, my voice husky and my throat tight. You look up at me through your thick eyelashes and nod as fiercely as possible.

I want the image of you on your knees with your red lips wrapped around my cock seared into my brain forever, so I take extra care to take a mental picture. 

I fist my hand in your hair, trying to remember to be gentle, but when I push my cock deeper down your throat, you moan. You slid the hand that wasn’t working my length under your dress to touch yourself. 

“Sucking my cock turns you on, doesn’t it Princess? You want me to fuck your face?” I ask, and you take your hand off my length and put it on my ass, pulling me deeper down your throat. 

I can’t take it anymore. I knot both of my hands into your hair and thrust into your mouth. Fuck, it feels so good. I don’t want to stop. I want to do this until I die. But I can’t – I don’t want to cum in your mouth. I need to feel your perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock before I do that. 

“Need to taste you,” you murmur, but before you can go any further, I reach down and pull you up to me, crashing your lips into mine. The kiss is rough, almost brutal, like we’re testing each other, seeing who can take more. I’m not holding back—I’m giving you everything.

I spin you around, pressing you between my chest and the desk, pinning you there. My hands slide over your hips, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress as I drag it upward. You start to bend over, and the sight of you, helpless and ready, makes my blood burn hotter.

“You sure you want this, Princess? Once I start, I’m not gonna be able to stop.” 

“Yes, Joel. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you say, and thank fucking hell for that. 

I rub my hands over the globes of your ass, my thumbs spreading your pussy open for me. You’re wet and glistening and perfect. I look down, open my mouth, and spit. My cock is already well wet from your throat, but I know I’m a lot to take, and I don’t want to hurt you. 

You wiggle your hips as if to say now, now.

“I got you, Princess,” and I mean it. I grip the base of my cock and line myself up against your wet and waiting hole, before I started pushing my cock into your wet heat. 

Holy. Fuck. 

You’re so tight. I grip your hips and work my way in slowly, going slow as you let out a little whimper. 

“It’s okay, Princess. You can take it. I know you can,” I say before thrusting one more time until I’m buried to the hilt inside of you. I pause, knowing if I start to thrust too soon, I’ll cum way too quickly. That can’t happen, not before you get off first. I take a deep breath and try to will myself back down from the solar system your cunt has propelled me to. It’s your voice begging for me to move that calls me back to my body. 

You don’t have to ask me twice. I start to move, pulling myself out slowly, admiring the grip of your skin on my cock as I do, and then I thrust back into you. Hard. I do it again and again. I lose myself in you and give you every inch of me that you’re willing to take, which you do so happily.

“More, Joel. Fuck me harder,” you beg, “Please.” 

And who am I to turn down a lady with such a polite request? I think about the guy who put his hand on you, and my next thrust is harder. I can feel my desk scraping across the floor, but I don’t care. I fuck you like that, my hands possessively on your perfect hips, as you clamp down on me so hard I start to see white. 

I pull you back up so you’re upright, still seated deep inside of you, as I snake my fingers around your body and play with your tits before dragging my hand down to your clit and start stroking it as I fuck you. I feel your pussy tightening around me, doing its best to milk me for every drop of my cum. 

You grab the hand that’s on my hip and move it up over your breast to your throat. I grip your throat and groan. “You like being fucked like this? Made into a little fuck toy for your daddy’s best friend, hmm? You like me using you like this, pinning you by your throat on my cock while I take what’s mine.” 

“Yes, Joel,” you whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” 

“Wanna hear you say it, Princess. Wanna hear you say who you belong to. Tell me you're mine,” I groan, my voice possessive. I can’t help it, I need to hear it. 

“I’m yours.”

“Damn fucking right you are, all mine,” I groan into your ear, tugging the lobe of it between my teeth and gently nipping at it, my grip on your neck still firm and my cock still thrusting into you like it was made for you and only you. 

“Joel,” you whine. It’s just my name, but it’s the way you say it and the feeling of your walls tightening on me that I can tell it’s your way of warning me you’re close. “Come for me, Princess. Show me how pretty you come,” and fuck if it wasn’t the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen a lot of pretty things in my life, but the sight of you orgasming on my cock is easily at the top of the list. 

‘Where do you want me, Princess? Can’t hold out much longer,” I say, still doing my best to hold you up and work you through the aftershocks of your orgasm while chasing my own. 

“Come inside of me, Joel,” and fuck. How am I supposed to deny a request like that?

It doesn’t take long. I start to feel the familiar build of my orgasm, that impending release that starts in my toes and builds higher and higher until all I can think about is you, filling you up, marking you as mine. A few seconds later, I do. 

I cum hard, deep. Did I intentionally make sure I was buried deep inside of you before painting your walls milky white? Yes. It would be a lie to say that I don’t get off on knowing you’ll be dripping with my cum for the rest of the night. 

Both of us now breathing heavily, I slowly ease myself out of you and watch the mixture of us drip down your thighs. 

“Hang on a sec, I’ll grab you some tissues,” I say, tucking my half-hard cock into my jeans and grabbing some of the tissues from the file cabinet next to my desk. I gently wipe my cum off of your thighs, and bring your dress back down over your ass and smooth the silk with my hands. 

You turn around, and I fold you into my arms.

I could get used to this. 

YOU

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt more at peace. Not only did you just experience the best fuck of your life, but now you’re nestled against his chest, surrounded by the intoxicating mix of his musk and cologne. You’ve been home for weeks, but it’s only in this moment that it truly feels like it.

You remember that line from Anna and the French Kiss—“Home isn’t a place, it’s a person.” You used to roll your eyes at that, but now, it makes sense. You get it. Completely.

His hands trace slow, soothing paths along your arms, the warmth of his touch grounding you. One hand slides up to your chin, and with a gentle press of his thumb, he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. He kisses you softly—still with that heat and passion, but this time, it’s slower, more deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment.

“Joel?” “Yeah, Princess?” “I don’t know what this means, but I want you to know—I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I know I’m your best friend’s daughter, and there are a million reasons we shouldn’t do this. Telling my dad is going to be hard, but… I want this. I want you.”

He tightens his hold on you, his eyes locked on yours, reflecting every emotion you're feeling. “I don’t know what this means either,” he says quietly, “but I know we’ll figure it out. And as for your dad… I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

You pull back, confused. What do you mean? My dad’s going to lose it when he finds out. It’s written all over your face, but Joel, sensing your concern, smirks before continuing.

“He was at the bar tonight.”

The words hit you like a punch.

END 

A/N Continued: The title of this work is based off the song Pretty Little Poison by Warren Zeiders. Thank you so much for reading! To be notified when I post fics, please follow my notifications blog @katiexpunkupdates.

Tags (lmk if you want to be removed! No hard feelings if so, ily guys.) // @legendary-pink-dot @syd-djarin @mermaidgirl30 @yxtkiwiyxt @survivingandenduring @pastawench @punkshort @alltheirdamn @hellishjoel @hotgirlbedtimescenarios

@miller-n-morgan-2 @clawdee @penvisions @darkheartgatita @pinkbowsandcoffeestains @magpiepills @endlessthxxghts @hellishjoel @punkshort @tightjeansjavi

Well damn… @casa-boiardi said it best!

🫠🫠🫠

The date

5k0 | Joel Miller x fem reader ; Frankie Morales x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: you’re in an established relationship with Frankie and both of you want to spice things up. You meet a man via a dating app, Joel

Warnings: 18+ mdni. cuckolding, cucking chair, fingering, public fingering, masturbation (m), dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, oral (m/f), ball sucking, piv, rimming, anal play, creampie No age specified

a/n: @aurorawritestoescape thank you so, so much as always, for beta-ing and everything, baby 💕😘 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

The meeting was set for 6pm at a bar in Austin.

Frankie and you had been a couple for several years, and you wanted to spice things up. The idea of watching you ​being fucked by another man was turning him on since he playfully brought up the idea while you were fucking, his cock brushing your g spot. 

Taunting you that you would probably like to take a cock other than his and how beautiful you would look, spread by another shaft. How proud of you he would be if he could watch you, knowing that even in that moment, you would still be his, maybe more than ever. The way you had come instantly on his cock had made him spill his cum deep inside you in the second that followed. 

Since then, he whispered it to you regularly, in the hollow of your ear, or with his eyes fixed on yours. Just to feel you clench on his shaft. He also said it while caressing your tear-soaked cheek, his fat cock reaching the back of your throat. 

Until he really suggested to share you with another man. You carefully looked at him, to detect the slightest trace of a joke that did not exist. He suggested it timidly, but the idea of fucking another man in front of him, the fact that he wanted to watch it, was really turning you on. You loved that your man, who could sometimes be reserved, was so sure of himself, of your relationship. He wasn’t afraid to lose you, he knew what he meant to you and that no one could take you away from him.

So you discussed it thoroughly, until finally signing up on a dating app.

You were now waiting at the bar for the man you matched with (“cuckolding, man in his 40s, dirty talk appreciated, dom vibes”).

“Good evening,” you heard while you were kissing, sitting at the table. You looked up, and there he was. Joel Miller.

You had been breathless when you looked at his pictures on the app, just as you were now, meeting  him. His gaze was deep. His brown eyes, his face were beautiful. His beard was slightly covered with gray hair. His green flannel shirt accentuated his broad shoulders. His voice was warm, drawling. Hot.

Joel shaked Frankie's hand, then he nodded and smiled at you. A smile you returned shyly. Frankie invited him to sit at your table, and the conversation flowed immediately. Joel was no stranger to that type of gathering, while it was your first time. He was single, worked in construction, and he lived in Austin too.

The purpose of the meeting in that bar was to see if there was a connection between you. If you were attracted to him, if Frankie trusted him, and if Joel wanted to go further. You sometimes looked at his neck, his forearms, his prominent veins, his hands. His thick fingers. His attitude exuded quiet strength, and self-confidence.

You had agreed online that he could touch you at the bar, if the attraction between you was there. After the three of you drank your first shot, he brushed your back with his large hand, before resting it on your lower back. His caress was light but firm, and you felt shivers run down your spine. 

His eyes landed on Frankie, to check if he was still okay with it. He nodded. Seeing you being seduced by that man was already turning him on and he was getting hard.

Joel placed his hand on your bare knee, your skirt hiked up your thighs, just after Frankie said something funny that made you laugh.

“I love that little laugh, it’s really cute. It’s one of the things that is gonna get you fucked tonight. That and these hips that are just begging to be grabbed, sweetheart.”

You held your breath when you heard him. Your panties were soaked even though he had barely touched you.

His hand slipped between your thighs, and glided to your panties which he delicately pushed aside. His middle finger ran over your wet folds and you couldn’t stop a moan from escaping your lips.

“Quiet. Don’t want a sound here, keep your moans for the bedroom,” he said firmly as his middle finger found its way between your walls. Your pussy clenched on his finger as you squirmed on your stool, and he smirked.

“Curling your toes already? Oh, sweetheart… you’re never gonna forget this night.”

He brushed your folds one last time and removed his finger, leaving you panting. You looked at Frankie, surprised by the effect the man already had on you. Frankie was just as astonished as you, but you could see how much he enjoyed it. His eyes were sparkling and he adjusted himself.

Joel didn’t touch you anymore for the rest of the time you spent at the bar. Frankie and him talked like old friends, and all you could hear was your pussy squealing with excitement. 

When Joel was looking at you, you felt yourself losing your composure. If he saw it, he didn't show it, until a little smirk proved to you that he just didn't want to make you uncomfortable, which you appreciated.

You couldn’t wait for the three of you to leave, but you didn’t want to seem too greedy - as if you hadn’t already spread your legs and moaned for him.

An hour later, you finally left the bar. Frankie and you in your car, Joel following in his. You had decided that it would happen in your house. You didn't want to be in a cold, unfamiliar place.

As soon as you entered, Joel wasted no time.

“Let’s check on the rules. Frankie, if you tell me to stop, I’ll stop, no questions asked.” Then he turned to you “what’s your safe word, sweetheart?”

“I’ll use “red” if I want you to stop. “Orange”, if I want you to slow down.”

“Okay. If you use either of those words, depending on the color I’ll stop, or slow down, no questions asked. I want you to know that you have to use them if you don’t feel comfortable. Are we clear?”

“Yes, all clear.” His expression was serious and solemn, and it reassured you, even though Frankie was going to be there the whole time.

“If you don't use them, I'll consider that you're ok with what I'm doing. Do you agree?”

You nodded. 

“I need to hear it out loud.”

“Yes, I agree.”

He turned to Frankie.

“Yeah, ok with that.”

Joel looked at you again, and added “and if your mouth's full, tap on my thigh twice.”

You felt heat on your cheeks hearing the implication of his words, and said “Ok, I'll tap on your thigh twice. What… What do I call you?”

“Well, my name’s Joel, and I’m fine with that,” he answered with a cute smile.

You took a deep breath and then added “Ok, follow me to the bedroom then, Joel.”

An armchair was set up near the bed, and Frankie sat down in it, as planned. You had also agreed that he would barely intervene, so as not to influence what would happen.

Joel rolled up his shirt sleeves. His charm and aura were devastating.

You felt intimidated, being in your room with the two men. With your boyfriend, sitting in that chair, facing the man who was going to fuck you soon.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Joel asked in a calm voice.

“Yeah…yes, I’m ready.”

He moved closer to you and grabbed your waist. His mustache ran along the warm skin of your ear, your cheek, your neck. Then he placed his lips on yours, kissing you lightly. Testing the way you would respond. Your lips pressed against his, and he held you closer to him, one arm around your waist. His tongue caressed your lips softly, gently and you parted them, freeing your tongue to meet his and creating a sensual dance. His lips were warm and your mind was lost for a few moments, as you kissed a man other than Frankie for the first time in several years. His hands roamed your body, one brushing your back covered with your top, the other squeezing your waist against him, against his cock that you felt hardening. You moaned, feeling the moisture flow between your walls, your lips still against his, your tongue in his mouth, until you pulled away slightly to catch your breath, your bodies remaining pressed against each other.

“Show me how wet you are, feeling my cock against you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, before you caught yourself. That’s what you were here for. To have sex with someone else, a stranger, who would probably act differently than Frankie. You wanted someone confident. And that’s exactly the type of man you were facing. He wasn't aggressive, he knew how to make you feel confident. He was perfect so far.

You pulled away from him a little more, just to slide your hand under the hem of your skirt and panties. You slid your fingers along your folds and then pushed two of them into your pussy, to coat them with your wetness. You pulled your trembling hand out, holding it up near your face. Your digits were shiny. Joel gripped your wrist softly and brought it close to his mouth, and took your fingers between his lips. He licked your wetness, his eyes fixed on you. It was so hot and sensual that another flow soaked your panties. 

He released your wrist, once your skin no longer bore the trace of your arousal, and he unbuttoned his shirt before placing it on the dresser in your room. He then removed his t-shirt, taking his time. Aware of your gaze fixed on him, and of each new inch of skin he was offering you.

“You're dripping since the time I fingered you at the bar in front of your man, aren't you?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Now… You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“On your knees, then.”

You didn't wait any longer, you couldn't wait to see his cock, to take him in your mouth, to taste him. You kneeled in front of him, then looked at Frankie. Joel lifted your chin while he unzipped, wanting your eyes on him only.

“I wanna see how pretty you look with your lips around my cock, baby”, he said, brushing your chin with his thumb. He released it to grab his cock resting in his jeans. 

You knew he was big, thanks to the pictures he sent you at your request. But you didn’t expect him to be that big. So thick and long. You had never seen a cock as big as Frankie’s. Joel’s seemed slightly shorter, but a little thicker. Your thoughts drifted, wondering how it would feel if they both fucked you at the same time. Joel’s voice interrupted your train of thought.

“Focus on me, and open up. Wide, or it ain't gonna fit, baby.”

You opened your mouth, parting your lips. He wanted to be in charge and you willingly let him lead. He pressed his tip to your lips then said “tongue.”

You darted it out, and he rested his cock on it. His thickness felt heavy. Then he placed his hand on the back of your head, keeping his shaft in the other one, before sliding it between your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frankie grab his bulge, then unzip his jeans, and finally pull his cock out.

“Eyes on me when I fuck your mouth, baby. Your man’s gonna jerk off soon, and you’ll hear his wrist fuck his shaft. You can listen to it, but your eyes stay on me, clear?”

You nodded as he thrust deeper between your lips, and you moaned.

“I know baby, I know. You're gonna be a good girl, and you’re gonna let me fuck that hole. And then, I’ll fuck the next one.”

You heard Frankie mumble “fuck,” and Joel thrust his length into your mouth. He used your mouth like he promised you, like a fuck hole. He wasn't aggressive, just in charge, self-confident. He knew how to deal with you, and it was turning you on.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Sucking this big cock? I can see that your man has a thick dick too. You like sucking his dick as much as you enjoy sucking mine, sweetheart?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. He didn’t want, or didn’t need to. Instead, he squeezed your throat in his large palm, feeling his shaft slide into it.

“You take it so good, baby. I can’t wait to see how your pussy takes me.”

He held your head with both hands as his cock was buried deep in your throat, and told you “don’t move. Stay like that. Just take it.”

You tried to pull back but he held you down, saying in a calm voice “breathe through your nose, sweetheart. You can do it.” He loosened his grip slightly, long enough to feel your throat adjust to his cock, then added, “yeah, just like that. You’re doing great.”

He released you, letting you take control for a few seconds. The accumulated saliva flowed down to your chin. 

Then he fucked your mouth, alternating rhythms. Taking advantage of the warmth of your mouth for a long time, all the way to your throat, then fucking your mouth quickly. Sometimes making his length weigh on your tongue. Your jaw was sore, but you didn't want it to stop, intoxicated by the taste of his precum, by the width of his cock. Never ceasing to imagine how he was going to fuck you.

Sometimes, when you weren’t completely focused on Joel, you could hear Frankie jerking off, and mumbling “fuck” or “you’re so hot, baby” a few times. 

Your pussy was clenching regularly, eager to be filled. But Joel was taking his time.

“Lick my balls now. Let’s see if you’re as good at that as you’re at sucking my cock.”

He was so good at praising you that you felt like you would agree to anything he would ask you.

He held his shaft in his hand, and brushed his balls soaked with your saliva with the other. They were weighty, thick and fell heavily when he released them. Looking up at him, you licked one ball then the other, before taking each one of them in your mouth. Sucking, licking their thin, delicate skin. Releasing them with a “pop”. He growled, enjoying your tongue and lips on his balls full of cum.

“Ok, that’s it, sweetheart. Take off your clothes, now. Lemme see how pretty you are.” 

He removed his jeans and boxers, while you took off your blouse and skirt, standing shyly in front of him. “You’re beautiful, baby. Frankie's a lucky guy.” 

He approached you, unhooking your bra, his chest pressed against yours, his nose brushing your hair and breathing in their scent. Then he knelt down, sliding your panties down your legs. His eyes fell on your pussy as he removed that last piece of clothing from your feet. “Oh damn, they’re soaked… poor baby. You need it bad, huh?” Once again, he didn’t wait for your answer and asked Frankie: “wanna jerk in it? Bet it’d turn you on even more”, he added before throwing them at your boyfriend.

Frankie smelled your panties and wrapped them around his shaft. You knew how much he loved your taste, sliding his tongue into your pussy and eating it longly, but his gesture made you moan.

Joel told you to lie down on the bed, and said to Frankie as if you weren’t even there, “she’s a fucking natural. I love when they're a little shy. Knowing that they’ll lose control at some point. Being half ashamed, half cock dumb.”

You heard Frankie take a deep breath hearing him, echoing your own. Joel was a menace, in the best way. He was a combination of confidence, charm, and undeniable charisma. He had a natural dominance and he knew it, was playing with it. You realized that you were still lost in your thoughts, despite lying in front of him, offered. You met his amused gaze, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“I wonder when you'll lose control, baby. ‘cause you can be sure of it. Sooner or later, you’ll lose it.”

He knelt between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and spreading your folds with the other.

“Damn, look at that… Could you be any wetter?” He brushed your clit with his thumb for a few seconds. He seemed to be thinking about something, as you felt your pleasure rise again.

“I should eat ya. To make it easier for you. But I’d really love to feel you squeeze my cock right now. You’re okay with that?”

You looked at him and swallowed before nodding. Yeah, you wanted to feel him spread your walls.

“Wait,” you said as he nestled in your entrance. “I don't wanna use the safe word, just… show me. Show me your cock one last time, before you thrust in me.”

He took it in his hand. He was proud of his cock, you could feel it, and he was right. You looked at his red, oozing tip. Covered in precum and your saliva. Its thickness made your heart rate increase and salivate at the same time.

“Ok… fuck me, Joel.”

Still kneeling, he smiled and grabbed your hip with one hand, and lightly pushed his tip in your pussy. Then he paused and looked at your body. Your hard nipples, your heaving stomach, waiting for more. Your chest, rising quickly. Your fists clenching the sheets.

You looked at Frankie, who was leaning forward on the chair. He had let go of his cock, hard as steel. You saw his tip glistening with precum. Your panties balled up in his clenched fist.

Then you looked at Joel again. From his curls, to his broad chest, his lower abdomen. You couldn’t see any lower anymore. He pushed in, feeling your walls painfully spread for him.

“Fuck… fuck! you're big…”

“I know, sweetheart. But you can take it,” he added, continuing to push gently. “Fuck baby, that’s it. Let me in your small, tight cunt.”

You had never felt so open before, the sensation was suffocating. A mixture of pleasure flirting with a little pain.

“I know baby, I know. You're gonna feel so good, soon. Just a little bit more…fuck!”

He was breathing harder too, as if he was holding himself back from coming, already. He spat on your clit, before letting go of one of your hips to brush your most sensitive place, trying to make this easier for you. Your moans were the only sound in the room, as Joel continued to thrust slowly, and Frankie was now sitting on the edge of his chair, leaning forward. Finally, Joel’s balls rubbed against your skin, and he stopped, buried all the way into your core.

“You’re fucking gorgeous like that, all spread out for me.” He was still breathing heavily, trying to control his cum that only wanted to spur against your walls.

You looked at him, panting too. You couldn't take your eyes off him, while he was still kneeling between your thighs, totally offered to him. He was magnificent and his gaze couldn't detach itself from you either.

He held your legs wide open, his hands placed on your hips, as he slowly pulled back from your channel, keeping only the tip inside you, before pushing back in. His breathing wasn’t calming down.

“Fuck… you’re so fuckin’ tight. I gotta… gotta eat ya. Don’t wanna shoot my load yet.”

He pulled out totally and lay down, leaving you empty, a plaintive moan escaping your lips. His arms wrapped around each of your thighs, gripping them with his hands before diving shoulders forward. He didn’t pause, didn’t seek to kiss your lower stomach. His tongue snaked out, tracing a line up and down, just above your ass to your clit and you let out a whimper.

“I’d wanted you to come, crying my name, since I fingered you at the bar.”

“Fuck,” you murmured. 

He started licking you again, never taking his eyes off you. His piercing gaze fixed on you just above your sweaty, throbbing stomach. His tongue delved between your folds, deeply, seeking to drink all your flowing desire. He licked, sucked, patiently, your wetness that flowed continuously. You looked at Frankie quickly. He had moved back to the back of the seat, hands placed on the armrests, gripping them tightly. You assumed he didn't want to come right away either. He nodded when your eyes met, a silent way of telling you to enjoy the moment. Repeating, without any words needed, that he was ok with all of it. Yet he couldn't help but intervene, and a part of you was afraid he wanted to stop all of it, but he quickly reassured you.

“Fuck, baby… you know how much I love to eat you. And watching you, while another man is eating your beautiful little pussy... it turns me on so much, you have no idea.”

You moaned when you heard him. You loved him so much. 

He started to jerk off again.

“You gonna come in his mouth, baby? You gonna come in another man’s mouth?”

He jerked off harder, and you nodded slowly.

At the same time Joel's tongue left your core to lick your folds, flat, slowly, repeating the motion several times, brushing your clit. The touch was driving you crazy, and you tried to lift your hips to feel him more where you desperately needed it, but he held you firmly against the bed.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he smirked. So you stopped lifting your hips as long as you were able to, until your movement resumed unconsciously. And finally, his tongue focused on your clit, swirling over it. It was tense, out of its skin, just waiting to explode under his tongue.

“I need to stretch you more.. Cunt’s too tight, don’t wanna come too soon.”

He pushed one, then two fingers into your pussy, your walls squeezing them instantly.

“Mmmm… you like that, uh? Want you to come for me. I need to stick my dick in your cunt again.”

"Come, baby," Frankie said in a low voice. “Fill his mouth. Give it to him.”

Their praise was the last thing you needed to come, chanting “Joel, Joel…” your back arching violently as your clit pulsed under Joel’s tongue and your pussy on his fingers.

You heard Frankie moan louder, then saying “oh… oh. Fuck, fuck, baby!” just before coming, white pearls coating his thighs and fist.

Joel’s tongue stayed pressed against your clit until your shaking stopped, and you released your grip on his head.

“Damn, sweetheart… I love the way you moan for me. Your man loves it too,” Joel added as he straightened up, wiping your wetness from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand.

“That was so fuckin’ hot, baby,” Frankie said, making you smile, while your eyes were still closed and your breathing was slowing down.

Joel crawled up and lay between your thighs, his knees spreading them apart. He nestled his tip at your entrance and pushed himself in slowly, all the way in, in one thrust. More easily this time. His tongue sought yours as one of his large hands cupped your cheek. “Takin’ me so good,” he breathed between your lips before kissing you again.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and the feeling felt so familiar and yet so new. You loved feeling another cock inside you, you loved kissing someone else. You loved having your man watching you. And oddly enough, even though you wanted Joel to fuck you for as long as possible, you couldn't wait to feel Frankie's cock again.

Joel rubbed his lower stomach against you, exactly where you needed it. You wanted to come again, as he wanted it too. Brushing your clit with each thrust, his lips left your mouth to kiss your neck and then nibble on your earlobe.

“Joel…” you whined, accompanying his movement by pressing you more against him.

“Yeah. You're gonna come again for me, sweetheart? Gonna come on my cock?”

“Yeah, I… fuck, it's coming. Don't stop. Don't stop please…”

“I won't, want you to squeeze my shaft. It’s so hot to feel you rub against me to get off.”

“I… Joel… I'm gonna… I'm gonna come.”

His lower stomach brushed against you again and the orgasm took hold of you, your nails digging into his shoulders as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your body was shaking even harder than the first time, and you clung desperately to him.

“Fuck, Frankie.... She’s coming so fucking hard around my cock.”

“Damn, baby…”

Your shivering didn't stop, and your pussy was contracting continuously.

“It's ok sweetheart, I got you. Keep comin’ for me.”

Your head leaned back on your pillow, as your fluttering stomach and limbs were still trembling slightly.

“Shit… You're fucking beautiful baby. Can't control anything, right? I got ya… I got ya.”

He held you tight against him, still thrusting, brushing against you with the same slow rhythm until he felt your muscles relax beneath him. He placed a hand on your cheek, his piercing gaze trying to catch yours. Until the ceiling stopped swaying, the room stopped spinning, and your eyes finally met his. You felt the heat reach your cheeks, realizing that the orgasm you just felt was one of the strongest you had ever experienced.

“That's it, I’m so proud of you. You're doing so good, sweetheart.”

He kissed your forehead, softly, tenderly, then he added “Now… I wanna hear how wet that pussy is. All fours, baby.”

You settled onto your knees and hands, still a little shaky, and as his hands settled on your hips, you didn't expect to feel his tongue run along your ass and linger on your ring, making you moan and stick your ass out.

He knelt and grabbed your hips, then said “fuck, you like it? I won’t fuck your ass tonight, I need you to dry my balls or I’m gonna explode. But another time, maybe.”

He didn’t wait for your answer and thrusted in one go, gripping your hips, leaving you breathless.

“Told ya your hips were just begging to be grabbed,” he said, before pulling back suddenly, leaving just his tip in your pussy and thrusting again roughly.

You bit your lip as you heard him, your body rocking back and forth as it could only follow the movement of his hips as they slapped against your ass. You could vaguely hear Frankie jerking off.

“Tell your man who’s fucking you. Whose cock’s in your cunt?”

“I… you… fuck… can’t…”

“Mmm sorry, what was that? I can barely hear you over all your moans, sweetheart…” he said, teasing you, but slowing down his pace so you could answer.

“Yours, Joel, fuck… Your cock is in my cunt. You're the one fucking me.”

“You’re doing so good. Keep taking it, just like that.” You didn't really have a choice, except to use your safe word and that was out of the question even if you were practically breathless. He was fucking you too good, filling you up perfectly.

His hands still tight on your hips, he was thrusting deep and hard, making you bend your elbows and bite the pillow. His thumb brushed your ring then he pushed in lightly.

“Gonna come… Gonna fill you up. Deep in your cunt.”

He thrust in, two, three more times, then his fingers squeezed the flesh of your hips as he pushed in as far as he could, his balls against your ass and you felt his cock twitch, just before his cum spurt out, covering your walls. His grunts made you smile, it was the only energy you still had.

He pulled out laying down next to you, and Frankie immediately took his turn between your thighs, spreading them wide, your bodies right next to Joel who was watching you, lying on his side.

Frankie buried himself in your dripping, sore cunt, hands on your waist, already thrusting all his length in, licking, sucking one of your nipples. He couldn't even talk, overwhelmed by the night, by your vision that couldn't leave his mind. He knew he would love to share you, but didn't know it would move him, turn him on, that much. He wanted to fill you now, not in a possessive way, but he needed to feel you around him, needed to feel your cunt filled by another man's seed. If he hadn't been in such a need to fuck you, he would have licked your sore pussy, cleaning it of someone else's cum. He told himself that maybe there would be a next time, and maybe another opportunity to do it. The thought made him even harder.

Your arms around him, you were kissing his cheek, his neck, his lips, holding him tight between your thighs. Proving him you were his, always, and it was making his head spin.

He asked Joel to kiss you, and he loved to hear you moan as you two were making out just below him. He knew he wouldn't last, he didn't want to. He knew you were spent, too. So he just thrust in, thinking about you blowing Joel. 

About Joel's head between your thighs. Frankie's favorite place in the world. About Joel's dick pushing your walls, slipping in your tight cunt.

He was surrounded by his love for you, by how good you felt around his cock. He shot spurs of cum quickly, adding it to Joel’s, and the thought made him moan one last time. 

He sighed contentedly when your pussy stopped milking his cock. He seemed as exhausted as you and Joel were, and you fell asleep without even realizing it.

When you woke up the next morning, Joel had left a note on the nightstand. “Any time.”

Thank you for reading 🙏 Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring

npt: tagging those who showed interest in the wip wednesday posts, love you ❤️ @mountainsandmayhem @joelmillerisapunk @evolnoomym @sawymredfox @schnarfer

@thundermartini @corazondebeskar @jksprincess10 @pascalssbabyy @604to647

@magpiepills @fruityreads @fightmemiguel @lotusbxtch @for-a-longlongtime

@pedrit0-pascalit0 @bonezone44 @almostempty @bubble-pop-eclectic @almostfoxglove

@iamasaddie @ace-turned-confused @casa-boiardi @multiversed-daydreamer

@mermaidgirl30

Untitled DBF!Frankie

pls. deets. 💜🥩beef

Oh Beef how I love you ❤️

Well… I’d like to do a short series just to kind of get a feel for a weekly posting schedule type thing. You never see many dad’s best friend Frankie stories so figured why not?

I’m hoping to maybe do 4-5 parts and have the first part somewhat outlined and that’s as far as I’ve gotten 😅

BUT it would be the first official series I’ve ever done and I’m kinda excited about it!