#toxicdbf
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Silence can never be bought, only rented.
pt. 2 of 6, 2.5k | dbf!Joel x fem!reader | 18+
picks up after Pt 1 . Story Master List
Joel Miller List
“You’re right, it’s gettin’ hot." he starts unbuckling his belt and your heart skips a beat. As he pulls his tight jeans down over his bulge, his boxers start to come with them, revealing a small, circular scar, then a sliver of neatly trimmed salt and pepper hair. The glimpse makes your knees weak.
Thank you @dark-scape for the mini mood boards!
Warnings/notes: no-outbreak AU. Reader confident in string bikini, there may be more to joel than meets the eye. Legal age gap. Masturbation. cumshot. Kinda dom reader. i don't know all triggers, not used to detailed warnings in my usual fandoms sorry
NEXT: PART 3
Catch up on Part 1
-----
It's June in Texas. You packed your swimsuit this weekend. You don't know why Joel would wear a jacket in this weather anyway. Hopefully he doesn't fuck your stepmother while he's breaking it off. In the big scheme of things, one more time wouldn't make much of a difference. It's more about the fact that he's your property now.
-
Back at your friend's place, you plug in your phone across the room while you settle in to watch another movie. Her new sound system is badass, so you don't hear it when your phone rings, but she does.
She’s a lot closer to it than you are, so you tell her she can send it to voicemail. She leans over and looks at the screen.
“Joel." Her eyes widen. "DILF Joel??”
You scrunch your face up. “Gross, he's like 50.”
“Okay, what does non-DILF Joel want?” She rightfully uses finger quotes around "non." In the back of your mind, you always knew Joel was hot. It turns out, you had no idea.
You sigh, “Probably just checking on me while my Dad is away.” You're tempted to tell her–at least the part where Joel is fucking your stepmother–but for now, you don't. You enjoy being the only one who knows and could ruin both of them.
“So why not answer?”
“Guess I just don’t feel like talking.”
She looks at you sympathetically. She knows why you came home this weekend. You needed a change of scenery after things got messy with a guy you were seeing. “I get it,” she says. “But I promise you’re gonna be over him before you know it. Then on to the next,” she smiles.
If only it were that easy. You really don’t feel like going back and facing life. Technically Chad is right, you never defined your relationship or agreed to be exclusive. But you spent so much time together, and he said he loved you. You know he’s a chode and not at all worth your tears. You just hate feeling so powerless. On the plus side, you've barely thought about Chad at all since the moment you first saw Joel's truck this weekend.
Your phone dings. Your friend looks at it.
“Who leaves voicemail?” she asks. It dings again and her face gets serious. "Oh, shit. You should really call him. He said Trouble."
"That's just what he calls me." You suppress a smirk at the nominal determinism.
"Oh, yeah. Ugh. I hate that I'm gonna miss the HOG barbecue this year. "
HOG. . . Hot Old Guy. She really tickles herself pink with that. Your dad and Joel cook out at Joel's pool every independence day with a couple of other friends, and you normally bring her.
Your phone dings again. She looks at the screen and side-eyes it.
"What?" You ask
"You should block Chad."
You feel a rush of satisfaction followed by shame as you eagerly go over and look at the phone.
Chad: miss u already.
In a way, it’s the best possible message, but seeing the dumb way he writes, your shame is replaced by anger.
"God what an asshole," you fume. You don't respond.
-
You finish watching the movie, and eventually start catching up on Joel's texts. Come out and talk to me for one minute. A pit forms in your stomach. He was here? Are you that predictable?
When it's time to leave and you get to your car, there's a note. It's the same one you left on Joel's truck, the one that said You're sick. There's a response scrawled under your writing:
You have no idea.
Your heart races as you look around the street. How dare he? And why are your cheeks burning?
You start driving back to your apartment. It’s well under two hours away, it's still afternoon, and you don’t know what you'll do with the day when you get back. Laundry, you guess. You can hardly bear the thought of being back there alone with your thoughts.
-
Instead of 35 South to San Antonio, you find yourself on Joel's street. Joel is a successful contractor and has a nice house. Comically high-security, too. Today, the gate is already disarmed, so you don't have to put in the code or talk to him. You park in his big wraparound driveway, grab your bag, and head around back. The pool gate is disarmed, too. You enter the code to the pool house door.
When you walk in, the air conditioning blasts on and it's freezing. Kind of obnoxious in a state with a power grid crisis. You throw your stuff down on the big couch, not bothering to go any further. You strip down to your underwear, ass facing the window. Then you put your swimsuit cover-up over your underwear. Feigning modesty, you take your underwear out from under the cover-up and replace it with your two-piece.
When you come out, Joel is sitting in a zero gravity lounge chair across the pool in front of the big glass windows of his house. When you see him, your heart skips a beat, even though it’s no surprise. It’s like when you’ve been thinking about someone so much they practically become a celebrity in your mind, even if they don’t deserve it.
You bring your bag out to the deck and sit across the pool from him. He’s wearing the same tight, blue t-shirt and jeans. Now he has on Ray Bans and flip flops instead of boots.
You slather your sunscreen on as he watches. He doesn't bother pretending not to watch. You slip your hands inside the cups of your bikini top, lotioning up your breasts. He adjusts himself, which sends a tingling rush to your core.
-
Once your sunscreen is dry, you wade into the pool. You walk around aimlessly, then swim over to his side, keeping your head above water. When you get to the edge, you rest your forearms on the deck, then put your head down on the crook of your arm and float your legs behind you.
“Come to give me my jacket?” he asks.
“I don’t know how you’re wearing jeans, much less a jacket." You lift your head to look at him.
“You’re right, it’s gettin’ hot." he starts unbuckling his belt and your heart skips a beat.
He stands up, and as he's pulling his tight jeans down over his bulge, his boxers start to come with them, revealing a small, circular scar, then a sliver of neatly trimmed salt and pepper hair. The glimpse makes your knees weak. He pulls the elastic waistband up and leaves the boxers on. He sits down again and crosses his ankles.
You ask, “How’d it go?”
“Oh, about how you’d expect.”
“How long were you fucking her?”
“Does it matter?”
“You’re gonna tell me everything I ask.”
“Few months. Look, Trouble, I’m human at best. She came onto me.”
“Knew you’d say that.”
“What if I could prove it?”
You don’t say anything. He takes out his phone and scrolls for a while, then brings it to the edge of the pool. You watch his heavy quads quake with each step but avert your eyes while he bends his knees. You have no interest in seeing his balls or anyone else’s. His boxers tighten around his muscular thighs as he sits down and lowers his feet into the pool right next to you.
“There,” he says, handing you his phone. You can barely see in the sunlight and don’t really care who initiated it anyway.
“Why don’t you just get a girlfriend?” you ask.
“You wanna set me up?” he smiles. “Got any single friends?”
“Why don’t you ask Sarah? She’s older than me.”
He grabs his chest like you shot him. Sweat is blotching his softwash t-shirt already.
You hand his phone back.
"There's one inside for you," he says. "It's on the counter." He gestures through the window.
"One what?"
"iPhone pro. Since you can't seem to answer whatever piece of crap you're using."
"What do I need an iphone pro for?"
"They didn't have the regular one in blue."
Your favorite color is a nice touch, but an iPhone isn't going to make this all go away.
-
"How’s it goin’ with what’s his name?”
“Chad? It’s not.” You hate him for bringing up Chad. You harden your face, but it isn't convincing.
Joel nods regretfully and there's a long moment of silence.
“You’re better than him, Trouble."
You don't say anything.
"Shit, you can have any guy you want.”
You can't see his eyes behind his shades, but something in his voice tells you how hungrily he's looking at you.
You still don't say anything.
Joel stretches his leg and the top of his foot grazes your quad, then your inner thigh. All your blood rushes to your loins. You don't move. He strokes your other inner thigh with the arch of his foot, getting a little higher with each pass. A tent forms in his boxers and he adjusts himself again.
“See what you do to guys?” The top of his foot brushes your crotch and you throb. When he tries to slip a toe inside the fabric, you float out of reach.
“You’re not a guy, you're a grown man.”
"Exactly. And he's just a guy."
"A grown man and a pervert." A wave of anger hits you when you remember your stepmother. "And apparently you'll fuck anything."
If he's still listening, he ignores it.
-
“God damn. Look at you.” He shamelessly palms himself over his boxers and suddenly his body is the only thing on your mind again: The way his naked ass flexed while he looked at you. The length of his cock slamming into her when he came. And now it's right there for your taking. Your core churns needily, slickening itself for what it desperately wants. Too bad he doesn't deserve it.
“Yeah. . . ” Your hands slowly reach behind your back to unfasten your top as you sink down into the water. "Look at me," you echo as you take the halter over your head.
You lie back with your nipples above the water line, lazily floating and barely pushing yourself around in the water, watching him watch you.
He takes a deep breath and his lips part. He digs the heel of his palm into his boxers. You grip the deck with one hand. You hover just far away enough that he can't touch you. He picks up his phone, swipes it, puts it down. He exhales through pursed lips and adjusts himself again.
"Take it out," you tell him, then lean back, jutting your tits into the air again.
"Yes ma'am," he growls.
He reaches into his boxers and holds his hard cock with the tip pointed toward you.
"The whole thing." You nod at it.
He pulls the fabric back.
"Now take your hands away."
"God almighty," he groans as he complies. He sits back with his hands on the pool deck.
Big mistake if your goal is to stay in control. This is going to take more restraint than you thought.
"Take off your sunglasses," you demand.
The sky is getting cloudy enough. He complies.
It’s the only cock you’ve ever seen that actually makes you salivate. Thick, slightly tapered, circumcised, prominent tip. Salt and pepper peeking out from the fabric and creeping up the base. You recall for the hundredth time how he felt pressed up against you by your car the night before.
Your nipples harden and his cock bounces on its own. He inhales deeply through his nose, his chest stretching his sweaty t-shirt. You wet your lips and he exhales loudly. You approach his knees and rest your hands on his thighs, letting your nipples graze his shins. His phone buzzes and he ignores it.
A bead of precum grows at the head of his cock. He clenches his jaw.
“Go ahead,” you tell him as you back away. He gathers the precum with his thumb and begins to stroke himself slowly. He’s proportional - His massive hand is a good fit.
“I’m gonna put this back on in two minutes,” you tell him, dangling your swimsuit top in your hand.
He shakes his head slowly. “Yeah, you would.”
He looks down at himself then back up at you. His eyes darken. The vein on his hand makes you weak - his big, masculine hand wrapped around his thick cock. . .
His breath becomes ragged, his eyelids get heavy.
You disappear below the water, and when you resurface, you come to the edge of the pool between his legs. You plant your hands just above his knees and inhale his musk from several inches away as you watch.
“Thirsty?” he breathes.
“Hell no. Just wanna see what a sicko's cum looks like.”
He smirks, then it fades. The dark, hungry look on his face makes you breathe heavier, throb harder, and twitch.
His ass clenches and he points the tip directly at your neck, then he groans as a hot, white rope meets your collarbone and the halter tie. A few more ropes gurgle into his fist.
“Gross,” you say. But you ache for him so badly. “You know, a gentleman always asks.”
“I'm a sicko, remember?" He dips his hand in the pool, shakes it around, then wipes his hands on his boxers and puts his dick away. "Give me a minute."
-
You dip your head under the halter tie of your bikini top to put it back on, but you let it float, not covering your breasts. He pushes himself up and grabs his phone. He looks at it and says under his breath, "gotcha, pendejo.” Then tells you, "I've gotta make a call." He pulls on his jeans but leaves them unbuckled. Somehow, that’s even hotter than his pantsless look, but you’re miffed that he got dressed so quickly.
You would've made him take off his shirt, but you love the way it stretches with every move he makes. Half of it is dark with sweat now. His back is a sight to behold as he walks over to the watertight, faux wicker box with the dry towels. You squeeze your thighs together and clench around nothing.
He pulls out two perfectly folded towels and you wonder out loud, "Are you fucking your maid, too?"
"Not this one," he says matter of factly. He drops a towel on the deck near you, then goes into the house.
-
He stands in his large window, spreads his feet as he does something on his phone, then looks at you as a water jet blasts into your thigh right at crotch level.
How devious of him.
You shift your hips slightly, just like he knew you would, and try to manage your best poker face as you let the jetstream carry you over the edge. You close your eyes before they roll back in your head. Your core implodes and your whole body pulses as a much-needed orgasm is wrenched out of you. Your mouth falls slack and you open your eyes in time to see him watching you with his phone to his ear. He smirks as the jetstream fades, then walks away.
-
You lay your head in the crook of your arm and let your bikini float near your breasts as you recover, with the occasional aftershock. Then, you hear his truck start up and drive away. Asshole.
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You really are trouble. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 3 of 6)
Can read STANDALONE, or Story Master List
4.4k words | dbf!Joel Miller x F!Reader | 18+ nsfw
Summary: You go back to campus and Joel shows up. You stay with him for a night.
He chuckles then checks you out and a hunger comes over his face. He looks down at himself before he lowers his voice and meets your eyes again. “What, you wanna souvenir? I’ll send you a picture.” The way he's looking at you. . . you can practically see the reflection of your naked tits in his pupils, even though you're fully clothed. He adjusts his jeans and looks out the passenger window behind you.
thx for moodboard @dark-scape. | joel master list
Next: Part 4
content notes/warnings: age gap, protective!joel, reader can wear Joel's jacket & Chad mistakes Joel as her dad (in hindsight I would try to do this a different way but it is what it is and I've left it because it reveals something about her dad), ample sexual tension, non-graphic violence, ref to gaslighting, light hurt/comfort, light stalking, blackmail/manipulation themes, begging, mild dubcon, cunnilingus, cumshot, slasherfucker easter egg🥚, Joel says he can wear something of hers to sleep.
As you drive back to campus, you try to think logically about Joel. On one hand, fucking him might give you even more leverage, if you could stay detached, but you're smart enough to recognize the poor odds of that. You also wonder if you should question his motives. He's never so much as hit on you until now that you have something over him. To be fair, it isn't out of nowhere - you held eye contact with him while he fucked your stepmother. You could’ve walked away as soon as your suspicion was confirmed, but you didn't walk away until he came, eyes locked with yours. Then, the next day, you went to his pool, took your top off, and made him jerk off.
-
When you get to your apartment, you bring Joel's jacket inside and drape it over your upper body, all the way up to your nose while you lie on your bed and scroll your phone. Chad, your kind-of ex, asks if you can talk. You start typing something, but when he texts you again to add a question mark, you decide to ignore him. You put on the jacket. There’s a scrap of thermal paper with gps coordinates in the pocket. Out of curiosity, you search the coordinates and they're near Uvalde, but you don’t find an address. The closest thing is an abandoned mall.
You put down your phone and turn up the jacket collar, then inhale it with your eyes closed. You get another text and it’s Joel. For a moment, you feel warm and fuzzy, until you open it.
“Thinking of you.” It’s a surveillance picture of you topless in his pool. A pit opens in your stomach.
You can just picture his smug smile as his big stupid thumb pressed send. The picture disappears as your ears get hot. What does he think he’s doing? You text him accordingly. You seethe. But there’s another part of you – a hot, wet part of you, that only wants Joel more with every depraved thing he says and does. You almost wish the picture didn't disappear so you could admire his back and imagine what else could have been. . .
Imagine Joel getting in the pool with you, pinning you to the edge, his thickening cock pressing into you, rock-hard. Joel wrapping his arm around you, shoving his hand between your legs, pulling your swimsuit to the side, taking you from behind. His cock filling you up, one hand on your tits, the other between your legs. Bouncing you on his cock, zero gravity, your knees spread and bent. You get yourself off with very little effort by imagining this. It only briefly crosses your mind that, worst case scenario, the oxytocin of each orgasm may work to his advantage.
-
You have to work at the cafe the next day. It’s gotten slower since summer session ended, but the bookstore still gets traffic from families visiting campus and whoever's still around. And as long as the bookstore gets traffic, so does the cafe.
Chad, your kind-of ex, comes in. You try to remain composed and professional, but it’s humiliating having to serve him after he cheated on you then tried to gaslight you that you were never "together" after almost a year. He’s wearing a t-shirt from the venue where you met when you saw his band play.
Your heart races as you write his name on a cup and he tries to get you to take your break. You refuse. He invites you to a party, then sits alone in the cafe for a few minutes, manspreading like he owns the place, watching you. Eventually, he leaves and your eyes well up in tears. You wipe down tables as a way to get a moment alone to compose yourself.
-
When you finish wiping down the last table, you stand up and get startled by someone standing way too close behind you.
Joel’s low, gruff voice asks, “I reckon that's Chad?”
Your heart jumps to your throat. “What are you doing here?” Naturally, you’re still mad about the topless picture – or at least, you feel like you should be mad.
“Comin' back from a job. You okay?”
You turn around and meet his eyes. And forearms. His denim shirt is fitted and his sleeves are rolled up. Jesus.
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“I know. You can delete it yourself. Come out to my truck for a minute.”
“Seriously?”
“What, you trust me to do it myself?”
You roll your eyes and take your break, following him outside.
-
Joel opens the passenger door for you. When he gets in the truck, he pulls out an iPad and opens his home surveillance app.
“We’re on my hotspot. Here, delete the whole day if you want. Then go to the trash and empty it.” He hands you the iPad. “Can’t be too careful these days, Trouble.” he adds.
Your cheeks burn with exception. Resentment. “Can’t be too careful ‘cause a creep like you might record me?”
“See that black bar?" He points. "Means no data for that time. ‘Cause I turned’em off, just not fast enough.”
“Conveniently, right before you took your cock out.”
He chuckles, then checks you out. A hunger comes over his face. Maybe it was hearing you refer to his cock. He looks down at himself before he lowers his voice and meets your eyes again.
“What, you wanna souvenir? I’ll send you a picture.” You can practically see the reflection of your naked tits in his eyes. He adjusts his jeans and looks out the window behind you.
Your face gets hot. You compose yourself and look him up and down. “If I wanna see your cock, I’ll tell you to take it out.”
His eyebrows shoot up. "Attagirl." He whistles as he shifts in his seat. “God damn, Trouble. You really are.” He puffs his cheeks as he exhales and shakes his head. "Who knew," he adds under his breath, looking absently through the windshield.
You hand the iPad back to him and an alert pops up, catching your eye. It’s your stepmother’s car at his gate. It quickens your heart rate. You study his face for an answer.
He sighs. “She keeps callin’, comin’ by. I changed the gate codes. . . I’ll text you your new one." His brow furrows as he stares into space, then he scratches the back of his neck. "I reckon I should prolly stay away for a couple days, let her get it out of her system.”
He deletes the app and reaches behind the seat to pull out an Apple Store bag. He puts the iPad in the bag and hands it to you. “Keep it.” It’s blue like the phone from yesterday. You should’ve known.
“Real creative. This is your whole plan? Buy me an Apple store?” you hand it back to him. "I'm not walking back in there with that."
"Fair enough." He smiles to himself and leaves it in the truck as you both get out. He puts on his Ray Bans.
Joel pulls up his pants and puts his hands on his hips, shifting his weight to one leg and popping out a knee. Your gaze drifts to the bulge below his belt. His brow furrows as he looks off.
“Now. . .'bout Chad. . . I reckon I got nothin’ but time now if he needs a lesson in manners.” Once again, you hate him for bringing up Chad.
Your face tightens despite your best efforts. "Don't bother."
“Aw, shoot.” He always knows. “Com'ere, sugar.” Joel opens his big arms. You can’t resist his bear hug. You feel safe.
You sniffle and he whispers, “Hey, Trouble. What did the white grape say to the purple grape?"
"Hm?"
"Breathe."
You can't help but laugh. He hadn't told one of those in a while. Fitting, too.
“There she is.” He smiles as you pull away.
“I have to get back to work.”
“Reckon I'll be 'round if you need anything.”
“Okay, creeper.”
-
When you get home from work, your roommate is watching the news. The newscasters are talking about a body found in an underground bunker outside Uvalde near the border. You look up and do a double take.
“Holy shit.” Your heart races.
“What”
“Oh, I thought I recognized that mall.”
You consider texting Joel about it, but something tells you not to. You don't text him at all. You google it. There are rumors it was a cartel boss.
Your roommate is planning on going to the party Chad invited you to to meet up with a guy you and Chad introduced her to. You resist her invitation, but she begs you to come just for a few minutes so she doesn’t have to show up alone, and eventually, you relent. You do a little pregaming at home before heading to the party. You wear something hot to make Chad sorry – leather pants and a low-cut, lace top – with Joel's jacket over it.
-
Chad is already drunk when you get there. He herds you and your roommate to the drinks. The guy she’s talking to went on a beer run. Aside from the two of you, it’s almost all guys, so you’d feel guilty leaving her there. You decide to stay just until her guy gets back from his beer run.
This takes longer than you expect. Chad keeps trying to talk to you, telling you how good you look, until someone distracts him with beer pong. You have to wonder if your roommate's guy is really on a beer run, or with another girl. These guys are all the same. You feel guilty for Chad introducing them. When the guy finally shows up, he does have beer in hand, but not nearly an hour’s worth when the store is just a few blocks away.
As you’re getting ready to leave, Chad steps in front of the door. He begs you to talk to him just for a few minutes. You refuse and open the door to leave, but he doesn’t back down. He yanks the door shut, then towers over you and pins you to the foyer wall.
Within seconds, the front door swings back open.
“Get your hands off her,” Joel booms as he charges in, then grabs Chad by the shirt and slams him up against the wall. Chad is an inch or two taller than Joel, and yet Joel seems to tower over him.
“You told your dad?” Chad asks you, incredulous.
“Get in the truck,” Joel tells you sternly, pointing out the door. You leave the door open behind you to watch and listen as you very slowly inch toward Joel's truck.
Joel tells him, “If she told her dad, you wouldn’t be breathin'. I'm fixin' to save your life right now."
He releases Chad just long enough for him to turn around and face him so it's a fair fight. Then, Joel decks Chad in the face. Chad goes stumbling across the foyer holding his jaw.
“Get in the truck, now!” Joel yells out the door at you, neck vein bulging, then pulls the door shut and stays inside with Chad.
-
You get in the truck and the shock catches up to you. You can’t stop the tears. Your mascara runs and you don’t have any tissues. You open the center console and don’t find any. He’s a man, of course he doesn’t have any. You open the glove box anyway. A few scattered condoms, no surprise there. Registration. Not much else. It's super shallow.
You lift the tray out. In the hidden chamber, there’s nothing but a gun and a cylinder. . .a silencer. In Texas, it'd be weirder if he didn't have a gun. But a silencer? Who is he, John Wick? What kind of contractor carries a silencer? . . . No. The blood drains from your face. You quickly replace the tray and close the glove box, your heart racing. Was it a bullet wound scar you caught a glimpse of at the pool?
The mental image of him pulling off his jeans makes you forget about the silencer. If your leggings weren't leather, you'd probably soak right through them.
-
Joel comes out and slams the door behind him. His muscles and veins bulge as he charges toward you.
"Are you okay?" He asks as he gets in the truck. He leans over to buckle you in. You can smell his sweat and musk.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"That's the guy you were seein' for damn near a year? That damn fool?"
"Don't," you warn.
You ride in silence and he calms down.
"Sorry," he says at a stoplight. He rests his massive hand loosely on your thigh. "I shouldn't'a said that " His veins are still bulging.
"You're right though," you sigh. Your eyes won't leave the vein on his hand.
You shift in your seat, the lightest contact of his big, masculine hand literally opening your legs. You fold your left heel under you, which has the effect of shifting his hand to your inner thigh. He inhales deeply but leaves his hand resting loosely on your inner thigh.
"Well, I reckon it's over now," he says.
He doesn't take his hand back until he needs it on the steering wheel.
"This isn't the way," you tell him.
"You're stayin' with me tonight," he responds, then stretches his jaw. “Got a suite on the river.”
You absently fiddle with the scrap of paper in your (his) left jacket pocket. You ask him what job he was coming back from. He does a double take and holds out his hand.
"Gimme that," he says sternly.
“I just like to hear about what you’re building.”
"Now."
"What, your trash?" you hand it over and he lifts his butt out of the seat to shove it in his pocket. In effect, the motion is a pelvic thrust. It makes you forget about everything else.
-
He's staying at one of the nicer hotels on the Riverwalk. He pulls up to the entrance and asks the valet for a minute.
Joel comes over and opens your door. "Come on, let's go." He notices the mascara on your face. "Shit." He pulls a first aid kit from under the seat and gives you an alcohol pad and uses one to clean the blood off his knuckles. He glances at the glove box contemplatively, but doesn't open it.
The lobby has an overly modern chandelier. He gives you a key card. On the elevator, you rest your head on his shoulder. It's a suite with two bedrooms. His stuff is already in one of them.
He gestures to the empty room, scratching the back of his neck, making his bicep look even more enormous. "If you want to, uh. . . Do you need anything? I can go to the store"
"Like what," you implore.
He leans against the door frame and crosses his imposing arms.
"I dunno what you need in general, so. I dunno," he shrugs. “You’ve got a toothbrush and stuff in there.” He nods to the bathroom.
"Is there a blanket?" You ask.
"You got it." He disappears, opens a few doors, and comes back with a blanket and the iPad. "Put a couple movies on there for ya. If you wanna cast one to the TV."
He swipes it open and gives it to you, and you almost want to cry. He can tell. He turns the TV to the right mode for you.
“You can wear something of mine if you want,” he offers, then leaves to take a shower.
“I always sleep in leather pants,” you say deadpan.
You may take him up on that later, but not now. You freshen up and take off his jacket then lie down on the bed, on top of the comforter, but under the blanket he fetched. You start watching Scream.
-
After his shower, he comes back in boxers and a t-shirt and asks if you're okay.
You were fine until he asked. You swallow down your emotions. "Stop asking me that." You sit up and pull your knees to your chest.
He approaches the bed and sits down on the edge. He lays a hand on your knee, and you ogle its masculine knuckles and prominent vein as he says "I know it's been a rough week." He doesn't seem to know what else to say, but his eyes look sincere.
You scoot over to make room for him on the bed and lift up the blanket. He lies down and lets you into the crook of his arm. He smells good. You watch most of the movie like that, not moving. Just inhaling his scent and lusting after him, your wits battling your carnal need. He falls asleep for awhile but wakes back up.
-
On the screen, Billy Loomis sucks blood off his own fingers. Joel says, “There he is.” He's seen your canvas tote bag with that image on it. “See? You’ve always had bad taste in men.”
You punch him in the chest playfully and he acts like it hurts. His smile kills you.
You’re on a bed with him, snuggled up with him, your head on his enormous bicep, and he feels far away. Why doesn’t he try to fuck you? It hits you like a punch in the gut that if you want something, you're going to have to take it. And God, you want something. You know better, but you want it.
You wet your lips and watch his face. The pattern of his facial hair is so perfect. Every little blank patch is perfectly placed. Every touch of gray and silver. It’s all of him, really. Every broken capillary on his skin, every line. It’s the most perfect design. It’s almost unbearable.
You hook your far leg over his. He glances at you. You pause the movie. He does a double take when he sees the way you’re looking at him. You’re trying to work up the courage to make a move. Your lips part, and your hand glides up his chest to his neck, resting by his vein. His heart rate quickens.
“Terrible taste,” he mutters, reading your eyes like a book.
You slowly lean in. He intercepts your mouth, controlling the nature of the kiss. He kisses half your bottom lip, then trails his lips down your chin. You tilt your chin up and he kisses its underside, open-mouth. He pivots over your leg to be on top of you with one leg between yours. His expansive hand runs down the side of your lacy top to your free leg, and he grabs your hamstring as your knee bends around him. Your hips lift and you grind into his thigh, desperate for whatever he’ll give you. He hardens against your inner thigh and you hear yourself gasp softly.
Joel gets between your legs entirely. He moves slowly. He lays his hardened boxers against your leather pants right where you throb and ache for him. His lips land lightly in the hollow of your neck, and he sucks gently. His hard-on only rolls into you once, sending a jolt of electricity through you before he cruelly takes it away as he works his way down your body.
He tenderly kisses your collarbone, then the lace border of your slutty top. He lifts your shirt up and you pull it over your head, along with your bra. His lips press between your breasts, his beard lightly tickling their soft skin. He palms one breast while his nose nudges your other nipple and they both harden painfully. He sucks just below your nipple and his hand trails down to your pants, grazing over your zipper, then engulfs your entire crotch. His flattened fingers rolling firmly but gently into your clit, over your pants. He breathes heavily.
You arch your back and he breathes, “God almighty,” before taking your other tit into his mouth.
Then, he continues his slow journey down your body. He plants two open-mouth kisses on your stomach. You’ve never been so wet or ready. His kisses trail down below your belly-button, to your leather pants.
All this instead of just kissing you on the mouth like you wanted. It feels like heaven, but it also doesn’t sit right.
"It's not happening," you say.
"What?"
"I'm not gonna fuck you." You're saying it to yourself more than to him.
"Oh, I'm not gonna let you, sugar," he rumbles in a near-whisper. Then, his nose digs into the leather between your legs.
"Just wanna taste you. Make you forget everything else."
He has both his thumbs on your mound and presses his mouth into just the right spot, a wave of pleasure washing over you, lifting your hips. His mouth presses and consumes you slowly, but so hungrily that his beard would be hurting you if your pants weren’t on. You're already twitching.
He looks up and his tired eyes swallow you whole.
You feel exposed. You’re extremely aroused, and he feels far away. You would much rather be making out, with his whole body wrapped around you, his hardness grinding into you. Still, you can't deny this feels very, very good.
His fingers curl into the front of your waistband, and he looks up.
“I'm not into that," you tell him. “Can you kiss me?”
“I’m about to. Ever had it from a grown man?” he asks. “Or hell, a woman?" he adds.
You don't answer.
“You don’t know if you’re into it.”
He craves you badly - it’s all over his face. You do want to see how hot he looks doing it.
"You have thirty seconds to convince me," you tell him.
"Only need ten." You're throbbing so bad that might be all it takes, period.
His thumbs unbutton you. He starts to unzip you and inhales sharply when he sees you're commando. You let him peel off your pants. He does it slowly, looking at your pussy like a juicy burger the whole time. He pauses to thumb you, like he can’t resist.
“Fuck me,” he says when he feels how wet you are. He thumbs your clit with one hand while pulling your pants down with the other. Then he finishes taking them off, prowls back toward you, arms bulging, and puts your thighs over his muscular shoulders.
It's surreal seeing Joel between your legs. He feels your naked breast and hooks his other hand under your thigh, holding your hip loosely. Tension is coiling deep in your core, throbbing, looming, tighter, more desperate than you knew it could be.
The hand on your breast slips down your torso as he kisses your inner thighs, his beard scratching you lightly. He plants a kiss on your mound, opens his mouth, and licks his way down to your clit. He’s careful not to drag his facial hair against your most sensitive skin. He nudges the side of your clit with the bridge of his nose. You throb and squirm, and his large hands on your hips hold you still. He seals his mouth around your clit and the top half of your dripping seam. He applies suction while his strong tongue languidly laps you.
With a groan, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You want his cock. You can hardly stand it.
Between heavy breaths, you tell him, “Time’s up. Come here.”
But he keeps devouring your pussy. You tangle your fingers in his hair and whine, “Joel, please” and he laps you more firmly, makes eye contact with you. He flicks his tongue, sucks, drags his tongue down, plunges his tongue inside you and you moan.
“Take your cock out,” you tell him. You're aching to be filled.
He pulls his face away, shiny and red from the nose down, replacing it with his hand. He pulls his boxers down. The sight of it makes your temples weak. He thumbs your clit and slips one, then two fingers inside you, making your head fall back as you clench around him. It’s not what you want, but it’s so much better than nothing.
"So tight," he marvels. He gathers your wetness and lubes himself with you. Not what you had in mind. You at least want to feel his hardness against you. You beg him upward toward you, but he won’t go.
He strokes his stiff manhood as his head returns between your legs, his tongue tracing your folds up to your clit. You begin to squirm and he holds you down with one hand, a sight that makes you weak. He hums "Mmm" and moans into the apex of your folds. You're throbbing desperately, your hips move on their own, and he must feel it.
"Come for me, sugar," he mumbles into your warmth. Then he opens his jaw, firmly plants his lips, and digs in again.
Your thighs tremble, threatening to close in on his cheeks. You dig your head into the pillow. With each pass of his tongue, each push of his lips, the tension in your core coils tighter until it can’t hold anymore and springs open all at once. As your hips lift against his mouth, his lips press back and he swallows you hungrily.
Pleasure blooms from your core in rhythmic pulses. Your arms and thighs jerk randomly in unison, your abs lift you off the pillow. You’re a prisoner to the pleasure, moving at its will, until your climax wanes. The release floods your chest and you pry his head off you. You finger his clean, messy hair.
Joel flattens his fingers to take more wetness from you and you shudder with an aftershock. He sits up on his knees and his brow furrows painfully. You're too busy memorizing the look on his face to fully appreciate the way his ass clenches as he starts to come. Relief covers his face and he grunts as his hot load shoots onto your stomach.
-
He pulls his boxers back up, sits back on his knees, and breathes. His tan, masculine hands affectionately rub your thighs, and you watch his chest rise and fall. Somehow he never looks vulnerable, even right after he comes.
Joel steps away and comes back with tissues. He cleans you up and runs you a bath.
"Good night, Trouble." His thumb affectionately brushes your temple and he kisses you on the head. Then, he goes to his own room.
-
tysm for any reblogs/comments, I love to know what y'all are thinking 🫶
Tags: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry
#joel miller x reader#dbf!joel#joel miller smut#toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x you#joel miller#dbf!joel miller#tlou joel#one shot#joel miller fanfiction#dark!joel miller#toxicdbf#sluttified!joel#joel jacks off#PPCU jacks off#PPCU jacks off ☠️
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Silence can never be bought, only rented
Part 1 of 6, 1.3k | dbf!Joel x f!eader | NSFW 18+
Next: PART 2 / Story Master List
SUMMARY: You come home from campus one weekend and catch your dad’s friend Joel in bed with your stepmother.
WARNINGS: I8+ Joel PiV w/ someone else (before you're involved at all). Accidental voyeurism, exhibitionism by opportunity. Joel mentally cucks her w/ you.
It’s dark, but you still catch quite an eyeful when you approach the bedroom and the door is wide open. They’re doing it doggy style on the bed, facing the window. In full view of the door. Joel is buck naked. He’s always been burly, but you still didn’t quite imagine what was under his flannels all these years. He scowls and grunts as his massive hands hold onto her hips and his pale asscheeks flex powerfully.
Your dad is leading a special military training exercise in an undisclosed location. He always tells you to call Joel if you need anything while he’s away. He knows how you feel about your stepmom. She’s only 10 years older than you and got together with your dad when she was your age. Your dad is no angel, but you’re protective of him, and you’ve had your suspicions about his young bride. So when you come home that night and Joel’s truck is in the driveway, you deliberately park in front of the neighbor’s yard and enter your house very quietly. Luckily for you, Joel’s hearing is bad, but you sneak around anyway. You can hear the mattress and the slap of skin down the hall. Then, your stepmother makes the porniest moan, making you gag.
When your shadow slowly approaches in the moonlight, he looks toward the bedroom door and does a double take. You flash your eyebrows but don’t make a peep. And when he sees you, he doesn’t stop. He keeps railing her. He slows down, and she whines.
Then, he makes eye contact with you, looks you up and down, and starts fucking her harder. God, what a pervert. Not to be intimidated, you stand there and watch him finish. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms and ankles, taking in every detail. At least he’s wearing a rubber. Before he comes, he pulls almost all the way out and looks down at himself, then back up at you, almost like he wants you to know he’s hung. He slams her back on his cock with a grunt and she moans as he empties his balls, his eyes still locked on yours.
-
You slink outside and sit in your car for a minute, thinking. You park in front of your house as if you’re just arriving. You leave a note on Joel’s truck, then come in through the front door, noisily.
Then you call, “Uncle Joel? Are you here?” You smile to yourself and wait. You never call him that, but it’s how your dad always used to refer to him. Then you add, “I thought you were gonna meet me there. . .”
“Just a sec,” he yells.
You overhear your stepmom ask him, “You were going to what?”
Joel says something inaudible.
“Meet her where?”
Oh, this is going to be fun. You grab a drink from the fridge and sit down at the kitchen table while they both come downstairs. You greet him with a kiss on the cheek.
“The toilet upstairs wasn’t working,” your stepmom says, still disheveled and proud of her lie.
You nod and smile. “Yeah, Dad warned me,” you lie. She seems to think she lucked out with a coincidence. She’s that dumb.
“Are you done?” you ask Joel.
“Uh,” he pauses in thought.
“Fixing the toilet,” you say.
“Yeah, good to go,” he says with a glance toward her.
“Thanks,” you beam. “Dad will be happy.”
You get up and give him a big hug, then hold eye contact as you break away.
Your stepmom looks back and forth between the two of you.
“Shall we?” you ask him.
“Um, yeah,” he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at her nervously as he grabs his keys from the key hook. “Let me know if it gives you any more trouble,” he says to her. She looks so pissed, you have to suppress your smirk.
You need to think this over. You aren’t ready to talk to Joel. On your way out, you text your high school friend about staying at her place for the night since you already drove all the way here.
-
Joel jogs to your car to catch up with you. His cheeks are still flushed.
“Where are we going?” he asks stupidly.
You laugh.
“Don’t you wanna talk?” he adds, hovering near your driver’s side door as you unlock it. He looks somewhere between annoyed and bemused, which pisses you off. He should be afraid for you to tell your dad.
You close your door, stand against the car, and grab both sides of his unbuttoned flannel shirt, assuming your stepmom is still watching. You pull him into you, then wrap your arms around his waist until you feel him harden against your jeans and he inhales your hair deeply, sending a warm rush to your core.
Then, you put your arms around his neck, and his hands loosely graze your waist.
You say softly in his ear, “Go home, Joel.”
You get in your car and look up at the house just in time to see your stepmom’s silhouette retreat from the front window.
Joel runs his hands through his hair and walks to his truck.
He takes your note off the window and opens it: You’re sick.
-
You go to your friend’s house and watch horror movies. She goes to community college and lives in her parents’ basement. She’s so happy to see you, she wishes you would come home more. You can stay with her any time.
Joel calls you and you send it to voicemail. He texts you, too. He says he’s done with her, doesn’t care, that he’ll break it off tomorrow. You don’t answer.
You have a lot of thoughts and feelings, but you keep coming back to the hardness in his jeans pressing against you. You don’t want to think about it. He’s been fucking your stepmother and that’s gross. You try to put it out of your mind, but the feeling stays between your legs. You pinch your eyes shut and shake your head, you just see his eyes roving you hungrily as he fucks her. Sick. Really sick. And yet, your panties are so moist.
-
You decide to go back home the next day to see if you can tell whether Joel has really broken it off. Your stepmother says it’s such a nice surprise to see you. You skeptically ask why it’s a surprise, since she knows you’re in town. She shrugs and asks if you want something to eat. She’s looking at you differently. She keeps looking at you up and down.
You return the look and ask, “What?”
She asks if you had a nice time last night.
“Yeah, we did . . . did you?”
She smiles and nods, “Yeah.”
She mentions the toilet is acting up again and you silently seethe. He not only hasn’t broken it off, but he’s coming over? There’s almost something smug about the way she says it, too. You offer to look at the toilet yourself. She says Joel is already on his way.
His truck pulls up, then your phone dings.
Joel: Wanna give us some privacy?
You: I dunno, what are you gonna do with it?
Joel: I told you, I’m ending it.
You: Ever heard of a phone call?
Your phone keeps dinging and you ignore it.
“That must be him,” she says. She calls him and asks him if he’s there.
He comes in and looks salty. She takes his jacket.
“Actually, I’m gonna borrow this,” you say on impulse and grab it from her on your way out. “I’ll give it back later,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder.
Why does he wear his jeans so tight, you wonder.
You text him from your car, “I’m not leaving the neighborhood,” but then you do. You go back to your friend’s house.
He calls you 15 minutes later and you ignore it. He texts you, and you ignore it. You let him squirm.
You decide you'll keep his jacket and take it back to campus with you.
-
PART 2
master list
#joel miller x reader#joel miller imagine#dbf!joel#joel tlou#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#toxicanonymity ☠️#toxicdbf#sluttified!joel#pedro pascal fic#darkish!joel miller#dark!joel miller
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Cargo. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 4)
3.1k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader 18+ / pt 1 / master list
His arms loosen and you turn around to face him. Bedhead is unreasonably sexy on him. You try to kiss him and he dodges you again, going for your neck instead. . . He starts giving you a light hickey. "You're evil," you say, pulling away to look at him. He smiles wickedly, then it fades. | next: part 5
Thank you @dark-scape for the mood board (and sounding board).
CONTENT WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+ Noncon somnophilia just the tip (don't get too excited) dry humping, vaginal fingering, oral (M receiving), alcohol, reader wears his shirt, excessive dialogue, elvis reference, sex work references, NO HOG BBQ YET SORRY- It took on a life of its own, needed its own part (next Sunday) and I think you'll see why the pacing is better that way.
Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-face
All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione
Lmk if i missed you. Idk why some are buggy.
-
The hotel shampoo and body wash smell like Joel after his shower, which makes you want to take the bottles with you. After your bath, you lounge on your bed in a towel, air-drying, finishing the movie, and replaying the night in your mind. Mainly how hot Joel looked between your legs. You also dwell on the fact that he wouldn’t really kiss you. Apparently, he won't sleep in the same bed with you either. It hurts. Like, it's physically painful.
You go across the suite to Joel's room for a shirt to sleep in. His door is cracked open and there's a green flannel folded on top of his luggage. It’s not weather-appropriate and you wonder if he brought it for you. He's tucked in, already asleep on his stomach with his shirt off, a massive arm sticking out over the white comforter and another under his pillow. You drop your towel to put the shirt on – leisurely, hoping he wakes up to the tempting sight – but he's already sleeping soundly. You've never seen his face so relaxed, but his brow is still somewhat furrowed.
You sit down on his bed to fasten a couple of buttons. He doesn't wake up. The irony doesn't escape you that you're watching him sleep when he's supposed to be the creep. Why doesn't he try to fuck you, you wonder. His words to Chad echo in your mind: If she told her father, you wouldn't be breathing. But that's obviously different, you think. That was about someone breaking your heart and physically intimidating you.
-
The hotel bed is tightly made, with the comforter tucked under the mattress on the side Joel isn't using. You wonder if you could slip inside without waking him up. You move the pillows out of the way, then slowly, inch by inch, wedge yourself under the sheets. When you're almost settled, he stirs. He blinks a few times, squints at you, then sighs, "Trouble . . ." He moves one of his pillows and hugs it, effectively putting something between you. It stings. You try to sleep but you end up sniffling.
He hears you and wakes up again. "C'mere, damnit," he half-whispers, half-asleep. His gruff bedroom whisper makes you wet. He lifts up his arm but doesn't turn on his side or move the pillow. You rotate the pillow slightly and rest your head on it with his arm over your chest. You drift off sooner than you expect.
-
At some point in your sleep, you roll over facing away from him. You wake up in the fetal position with Joel’s arm draped over you. Joel has turned onto his side, too. Your upper back is just barely against his chest. You scoot your lower body backwards to spoon with him, and your naked ass meets the tip of his cock. Arousal shoots through you like a bolt of lightning. It's the first time you've actually had contact with it. You didn't even realize he was naked.
At the first contact, his hips instinctively press his cock up against you, sending all the blood in your body to your core. You stifle a moan, not stopping to wonder why you don't want to wake him up. You carefully maneuver your ass to nestle his cock between your thighs. He thrusts in his sleep, gliding firm and wet against your folds, reaching your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.
You unbutton your shirt then nudge his hand into it. His hand twitches and so does his cock. It pulls back a little and the tip is right at your entrance. Your hips tilt, nestling it there, the top curve of the head resting just inside without truly breaching you. You could sink onto him right now. It would be so easy. But you want him to do it himself.
You're absolutely throbbing, aching for him. He pulls back again with a sigh, then his hard tip bypasses your tight, dripping hole and glides to your clit again and you softly moan. You adjust your chest, wanting the movement of your breast to prompt his hand to cup around it. But instead of cupping your breast, his hand drifts up your chest. Then, it wraps loosely around your throat.
His voice is quiet but stern as his cock retreats then slides firmly against your clit with an aggressive thrust. His hand applies light pressure around your throat. “What’d I tell ya last night?”
You remember it well, how you foolishly claimed you weren't gonna fuck him and he replied, oh, I'm not gonna let ya, sugar. Blood drains from your face and your heart races. You scoff but don't say anything. Having made his point, his hand goes slack again. Humiliation drowns out your arousal and you begin to scoot away, but he follows you, effortlessly restraining you with one enormous arm.
“Calm down," he says into your hair, then half-whispers under your ear, "I’m still gonna take care of ya,” as he palms your breast. His hard cock nestles against your crack.
"Lucky me," you say sarcastically and begin to squirm away, but both his arms wrap around you. In a mocking tone, you parrot, "Take care of me," and add, "you're an actual whore, aren't you?" A veiny hand slowly works your breast then trails down your torso and digs between your legs. That’s all it takes for your arousal to return.
He gathers your ample wetness and uses his middle and ring fingers in a way he must have been perfecting since before you were born. You gasp and your back arches with tension building rapidly in your core. His bicep flexes under your neck as his other hand slowly gropes your breasts. His stiff cock slowly ruts against your ass while he touches you like you've never been touched before.
He grunts and you gasp on the edge of your climax. He softly bites your neck, and it sends you. He sucks your neck as you come. When your body finishes convulsing into his, his arms loosen and you turn around to face him.
-
Bedhead is unreasonably sexy on him. You can't resist. You try to kiss him.
He fucking dodges you again, going for your neck instead. "Haven't you seen Pretty woman?" Yeah, the one where a sex worker won’t kiss johns on the mouth because it’s too emotional . . .Joel starts giving you a light hickey.
"You're evil," you say, pulling away to look at him.
He smiles wickedly, then it fades. He opens his mouth to say something but stops short when you reach down and grab his cock. Your mouth falls open at its hardness and the fact that his hand is already around it.
He winces at your icy fingers.
You get up on your knees and straddle his legs, pushing the plush luxury comforter behind you. You fold at the hips and take a moment to admire his cock in your fist and breathe in his musk. Your thumb lightly traces a vein, and he exhales with a soft grunt. You look up and are greeted with a twinkle in his eye and a barely perceptible smirk. You want to wipe that smirk off his face.
You quickly succeed by holding eye contact while you wrap your lips around his swollen tip and tongue the slit. It’s already salty with pre-cum. He takes a deep breath and his lips part just barely. He puts another pillow behind his head for a better view. His face falls into a trance. When you begin to suck, he swallows and his jaw clenches. His eyes darken. You bob your head on his cock, taking as much of his shaft as you can without gagging, stroking the rest with your hand.
“Fuck,” he pants. His quads tense under you and his breathing changes. His hips rock gently into your mouth. Your eyes water as you keep blowing him. Then, his hand joins yours.
“Where ya want it?” he asks somewhat urgently. What a gentleman.
You don’t answer, you simply take his hand off his cock and place it on his stomach. You slow your sucking and relax your tongue. His hips thrust gently into your mouth and his hand floats to your head, but you send it back to his stomach again
“God almighty,” he groans. “Fuck me.” It’s a turn-on seeing him so desperate.
You edge him until you’re ready to see him come. Then, you suck with your whole mouth, your cheeks caving in as you firmly tongue the underside. Within seconds, his hips lift and stay lifted as he erupts in your mouth with a groan. His warm load hits the roof of your mouth first, and it’s so many ropes you lose count. You swallow, then return to the head of the bed.
-
You put your head on his chest and he strokes your shoulder.
“You’re the evil one,” he says, and you bask in self-satisfaction for a minute. “Nah, you’re right. You don’t wanna believe it, but you’re right.”
“About what?”
He sits up and your eyes glue to his inner bicep flexing as he reaches for his phone. His brow furrows as he reads something then dismisses it. Then he puts on the song Trouble by Elvis. He meant you’re right that he’s evil.
You hold out your arm and say, “I’m cringing so hard I have goosebumps.”
“Just for that, I’m gonna play DJ allll mornin’,” he says. He sings along as he walks to the shower, “well I’m evil, so don’t you mess around with me. . .”
. . .
Before Joel takes you back to your apartment, you have brunch at a restaurant overlooking the riverwalk. In the absence of other options, you wear your leather pants with the lacy top. You both get bloody marys. He wears his Ray-Bans and a white t-shirt, jeans as tight as always, and sits back lazily with one elbow over the back of his chair and his knees spread wide.
Your phone dings with a text from another family friend, Frank, asking if you’re coming home for the Independence Day barbecue, and it gets you thinking.
“Dad’s back this week,” you say to Joel. You instantly regret it for killing the mood, but it’s the elephant in the room. “Y’all still gonna barbecue?”
He takes a sip of his drink, then puts it back down. He looks at the river and furrows his brow, then his eyes return to you. “Why wouldn’t we? You gonna talk to him?”
“I dunno,” you say, not wanting to show your hand, but you’re leaning against snitching any time soon.
Joel tenses and his nose twitches. “What are you gonna tell’m?” He rubs one side of his beard. A waiter approaches from behind, but Joel doesn’t see him. “Gonna tell’m you climbed into my bed? Tried to fuck yourself on my cock?" There’s a bite to his words. The waiter stops in his tracks and awkwardly tries to pretend he wasn’t coming to your table. You look at the waiter and shrug and he gulps before nodding at you in acknowledgement. Joel looks over his shoulder then shakes his head at you and smirks as the waiter walks away.
Climbed into his bed. . . tried to fuck yourself on his cock. . . It sounds so bad when he puts it that way. Maybe it was. Your cheeks burn.
You sigh. "I wasn't -”
Joel raises his eyebrows at you.
“Just the tip," you protest.
Joel nods thoughtfully.
“I dunno what I was thinking,” you admit. You cross your arms and slouch down in your seat.
"It's never just the tip," Joel says.
"Why didn't you want it?" You ask pathetically
He sighs. "Nothin' to do with want.” He takes a deep breath and leans back. He looks at the river, exhales, then adds, "Trust me. . .Fuck." He takes a sip of his bloody mary and looks back at you.
"What then?”
The way he looks like he’s racking his brain, you wonder if he’s holding back just to drive you crazy. It certainly has your attention. In fact, you didn’t know how badly you needed to fuck him until last night . . .just minutes after he said he wasn’t going to let you.
Finally, he says, "It's bad for you, sugar."
“What is? Your evil cock?”
He smirks then shifts uncomfortably in his seat and looks at the river again. “I dunno what to tell ya. I've seen a lot. Don't wanna put ya through it. Shoot, look at your stepmom, she's damn near lost her mind.”
“You're just that good,” you roll your eyes. You have every reason to believe he is.
Joel sighs. “Nothin' to do with good. Shit, I’m not good, I'm just grown." He takes a sip of his bloody mary. "Don't you know any hot professors? Take 'em for a spin, you'll see."
You brush it off as his crude way of being modest. He could probably make bank as an actual gigolo from what you’ve seen.
"Then what is it?" you wonder. He gives it some thought.
"Reckon it’s ‘cause ya can't have me. No one can. I'm un-have-able."
“Why don’t you ever settle down?”
“Shoot, I dunno. When I was your age, I was already a father. Maybe I went backwards.”
You nod, appreciative of his effort to give a real answer.
He continues, “But ya know, monogamy just ain’t right for some people. Hell, even in a marriage. You’d be surprised how many are open.”
“How many what? Marriages?” You suspect his sample is skewed.
“Yeah. Relationships, marriages.” He crosses his legs. “Alright, my turn to ask you somethin’.”
Your heart rate spikes, hoping he won’t revisit the just-the-tip incident.
“Why'd you stand there and watch that night, hmm?" He cocks an eyebrow. It’s the first time either of you bring up the moment that started all of this. Sometimes, when you’re with him, you forget about it entirely.
You laugh at his audacity, then counter with, "Why'd you stand there and finish?"
"Easy. So I could nut.” He flashes his eyebrows with a casual smirk, then downs the rest of his drink.
"You did not just say nut. God, you're such a boomer."
"Alright, let's get outta here ‘fore we traumatize another waiter." He throws more than enough cash on the table then stands up and pulls up his jeans. He puts his hands on his hips and cocks a leg out, looking out over the river while you chug the rest of your drink.
-
When you get in the truck, Joel puts his phone on bluetooth and “Call Me,” the theme to American Gigolo, blasts on. He’s so lame. You shake your head at him and he has that subtle Dad joke smirk. His bicep stretches that t-shirt so nicely.
Halfway to your apartment, some kind of restricted call pops up and his phone automatically answers it. You swear it’s your father’s voice on the line that says, “You’re offline. What’s your 20?” Joel’s face changes entirely, and something tightens in your chest.
He scrambles to turn off bluetooth and puts the phone to his ear. You can still somewhat hear the other end of the line.
Joel glances at you and says, “Uhhh-”
“We’ve gotta move,” your dad says.
“It’s broad daylight,” Joel counters.
“The Bureau tracked down his number two and he’s on the move.”
Joel seems frustrated. “Why don’t you get Jesse?”
Your dad says, “He’s comin’ but they’re rollin’ deep. We need our best shot or it’s gonna be a shitshow.” Your heart is a mile a minute.
“Dad?” you ask meekly, too nervous to fully commit to asking.
“What was that?” your Dad asks. “Who was that?” You don't say anything else. You feel weak.
Joel glances at you regretfully. “Damnit, gimme ten and I’ll call you.”
“We gotta move, Miller. I need you back online.”
Joel sighs “Working on it. I’ve got cargo, k?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. "What kind of cargo?”
Joel looks at you again and answers, "precious.” He hangs up.
Joel hits the steering wheel angrily. He speeds back toward your apartment, clenching his jaw as his driving intensifies. You’re shaking. That was almost certainly your father, and it didn’t sound anything like a military training exercise, or a construction project of Joel’s, for that matter.
Joel silently fumes.
“Was that my dad?” you ask with watery eyes. He takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out as he exhales. Before he can answer, you foolishly let him off the hook with another question. “Did you just call me cargo?"
“Sorry sugar, no time right now.” You ride in silence, bracing yourself as he careens around a corner.
The tears in your eyes threaten to overflow, then one does.
-
Joel pulls up to your apartment. He waits with one hand still on the steering wheel for you to get out, but when he looks at you, he sees that big fat tear run down your cheek and his face softens.
“Aw, shoot,” he says, and unbuckles. “I’m an asshole.” He gets out and jogs over to the passenger side. He opens the door for you and you slide out of the chair lazily, numbly, not quite wanting to meet his eyes.
“Hey,” he says, and tilts your chin up. Suddenly, it seems like he’s in no hurry at all. He takes off his Ray-Bans and looks at you like he’s trying to heal you with his eyes. You finally make eye contact and take a shaky breath, trying not to full-on sob. His thumb brushes away your tears, then the same hand cradles the back of your head. You stand there reading each other’s eyes. Slowly, your head begins to pull like a magnet toward his lips. You almost feel like his hand is ever so subtly pulling you that way. You steel yourself for rejection anyway. But then, Joel’s head drifts toward yours.
His beard lightly prickles your skin as your lips lock and his free arm wraps around you. You’re caught off guard, but in less than a second, you don’t care about anything else in the world. Joel’s tongue parts your lips and you accept it hungrily. His lips are soft but strong as they suck you into him. Your mouths are needy for each other. His hand behind your head pulls you further into him. You kiss like you’re sharing a last breath of air. Then, he seals the moment on your upper lip and pulls away. The whole kiss can’t be more than ten seconds, tops.
“Gotta go, Trouble.” he whispers, then swallows solemnly, looking down. “I’m sorry.”
He jumps in his truck and peels off.
-
next: part 5
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thank you all so much for reading and engaging. y'all are the best ILY!!!
#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#perdo pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut#toxicanonymity ☠️#toxicdbf#dbf!joel
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The Contractor. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 6 of 6)
4k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader / pt 1 / master list
STORY MASTER LIST
Warnings/Notes: I8+ some angst, dry (wet?) humping, unsafe PIV SEX (!), legal age gap. Acronyms - RICO is about organized crime. barely edited.
It’s so close. It’s finally here. His hand slides under your shirt, runs over your back then pulls you closer. He feels so good, it’s like a dream. But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in. You want the truth. You pry your lips away from his, and right away, he latches onto your neck. “What did my Dad want?” you ask. Between kisses, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”
Joel shows you his phone and your dad is at the gate. He thinks in silence for a moment.
“Well, we’re not doing anything,” you offer, but your heart is pounding. “Don’t let him in.”
“I’ve gotta let him in. What’s he gonna think if I don’t?”
He rubs his beard and opens his home automation app. “You’re in the pool house,” he decides. He turns on a dim light in the pool house.
“What does he want?” you ask.
“Hell if I know. Go through the basement.”
“No way.”
“Come on, Trouble.”
“I’m not going through the tunnel alone.”
He seems endeared by your fear. “Do it for us,” he says with a wink that makes your heart jump. Then he gets up to take the drinks to the sink.
“Wait,” you say.
He freezes.
“What were you gonna say? Now that I know . . . ?”
“Now that you know, I don’t have to worry about you finding out later and being mad.”
You kind of doubt that’s what he was going to say. “I’m mad anyway,” you say.
“Figured. It’s okay.”
A car door opens and closes.
“Go,” he whispers. “I’ll come get you when he’s gone.”
You make it to the pantry stairs just in time.
-
When your dad comes in, Joel says, “Welcome back.”
Your dad asks, “Where’s my girl?”
“Sleepin’ it off in the pool house, I reckon. Didn’t want her to drive.”
There’s a long pause and your heart races.
Your dad says, “Good, good. . .thanks.”
Damn, Joel is smooth. He asks your dad, “Somethin’ you didn’t wanna call about?”
“Yeah. . .”
You’re tempted to stay and hear more, but you’re also afraid of what you might hear. You creep down the stairs quietly. You think about going to the theater instead and waiting in one of those recliners. It’s silly, but you really don’t want to go underground to the pool house. The tunnel is climate controlled and has automatic lights, but it’s still spooky without windows.
-
You’re standing near the tunnel entrance trying to work up your nerve when you hear raised voices, and now you can’t resist. You quietly make your way back toward the stairs to listen. If no one is going to tell you what’s going on, this is your chance to find out. It occurs to you there’s no reason for you to go all the way to the pool house except that Joel doesn't want you to hear this. Otherwise, you could have hidden anywhere and your dad would be none the wiser.
A cabinet slams shut and Joel demands, “How many aren’t you tellin’ me about?”
“Not tellin’ you? I just found out! I’m not in charge, you know that.” Glasses clink with ice.
“North of the fuckin’ border again. God damnit,” Joel says. He’s even more heated than he was in the car the other day.
Your dad asks, “What do I have to do to get you all in on this? Let’s get it done and be done with it.”
“You know what I want. I want out.”
“You’ll be out.”
“I want it in writing.”
Your dad scoffs. “You want a paper trail now? When the whole point was to keep your charges off paper?”
“Not the charges, damnit.”
“Then what do you want in writing? You made some bad guys go away in exchange for evidence going away, now we’re square?”
“It was supposed to be a six month contract. Here we are, how many renewals later? And I’m still consulting.” You can picture the air quotes with the way he says it.
“Still better than 20 years for RICO,” your dad says.
“Never woulda gotten the max. . . You know what? At least the wiseguys have a code.”
Your dad sharpens his tone. “Ever wonder what happened to that evidence?”
“FUCK” A glass shatters. “I’m never gettin’ out. Just say it.”
“This is the last-”
“Don’t string me along with this one last job bullshit, then the job’s a whole fuckin’ cartel. Call it what it is. I’m an asset. Not a contractor if I don’t got a fuckin’ choice.”
“You’re gonna be out.”
“You won’t even give me your word.”
“Joel, you have my word.”
“Alright,” Joel calms down a little. “And what about you? You ever think about your daughter in all this? You want her on tiktok seein’ your head roll off one day ‘cause you couldn’t take the loss and retire?”
“Don’t talk about my daughter.”
There’s a moment of silence, then your dad continues.
“We’re on the same team, buddy. I want this over as bad as you do. C’mon, let’s look at the intel.”
You’re sick to your stomach. Whatever this is sounds like it’s about your dad’s ego. What’s new. You shrink back to the tunnel and jog through it so it’s over fast.
-
You’re laying on the couch in the pool house, and you don’t even want to think about what you just heard. So you’re replaying the earlier conversation in your head. The one about your stepmother and . . . gross. Something doesn’t sit right about it. You’re trying to figure out why Joel would have felt guilty for you blackmailing him into sex.
It hits you that the only reason he’d feel guilty is if it were his doing. . . If he realized you thought you had leverage and saw an opportunity. Deprive you, make you want it that bad, see if you’d try to twist his arm into it. And once you got there, game over? Was he just getting off on having the power all along? Then you ask yourself the real question. If that’s the case . . . do you wish none of it ever happened? It’s an easy no.
So you put that to rest and can’t help but think about what you overheard between Joel and your dad. You want to know how this all happened, but from the way Joel was talking about heads rolling off, you’re most worried about what he and your dad are up to right now. You want to hear it from Joel. You want to know what his real job is. The truth might be the only thing you want more than to fuck him. And if he won’t tell you the truth, maybe he doesn’t deserve the latter.
You’re exhausted from being in the sun all day. There’s a big, heavy blanket – silky, not exactly cozy. It’s like a rich guy blanket, probably put there by an interior decorator. You curl up on the oversized couch and pull it over you. There’s a bedroom, but you don’t expect this to take as long as it does, so you don’t get in bed. You stay on the couch. It feels like Joel is taking forever, but you’re too tired to even look at the time. You take off your shorts and bra, swaddle yourself in the blanket, and drift off.
-
You don’t hear Joel come in or take off his pants or put his stuff on the table. You feel cold for a moment when he lifts the blanket, but then he gets under it with you and takes you into his arms, and he’s warm.
You stir, and Joel whispers, “You wanna get in bed?”
You shake your head no.
“It’s right there . . .”
“No,” you manage weakly. You’re not remembering any of the drama at the moment, just enjoying being in his arms and too sleepy to move.
“Ok,” he whispers, and kisses you on the head. You fall back asleep with your head in the crook of his neck.
. . .
In the middle of the night, you wake up in his arms with one of his legs hooked over both of yours and his boxers pressed against your panties, which are soaked with arousal, you can feel it. He’s only somewhat hard, but it’s enough to make you need it, bad. He smells freshly showered but you can still catch a hint of his sweat, which makes you need it worse. Your nose brushes his beard as you look up at his face.
He blinks awake with sleepy eyes. He presses his lips into yours for a long kiss that starts light, affectionate, closed-mouth, then becomes desperate, invasive. You accept his tongue greedily. He hardens right against your crotch. His hips roll into yours, and before long, he’s rock hard, and you softly moan “mmm” into his mouth.
He whispers, “Are you on-”
“Yeah,” you cut him off. Then he covers your mouth with his lips again. Yeah, you’re on birth control, and the question makes you throb as he kisses you. It’s so close. It’s finally here. It’s grinding into you right now. His hand slides under your shirt and runs over your bare back, pulling you closer against him, and he moans softly. He feels so good, it’s like a dream.
But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in. You really, really want the truth. It dawns on you this might be your best shot at getting it.
You pry your lips away from his, and right away he latches onto your neck.
“What did my Dad want?” you ask him.
Between kisses on your neck, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”
“Tell me what’s going on,” you demand.
He rolls his arousal into your clit and you bite your lip to suppress a moan while you wait for his answer.
“Not now, sugar. . .”
He lifts your shirt swiftly but smoothly and palms a breast, then is hard-on drags down your thigh and you feel a damp spot on his boxers. He takes your nipple into his mouth while he pulls your shirt off, and you help him, despite your reservations. You need the truth, but you’re aching. Your body needs to be filled by his.
“Not now. . . so, when?” you ask.
“When I’m back,” he sighs.
“Back from what?”
He doesn’t answer. He lightly drags his lips over the top curve of your breast, over your shoulder, up your throat, your jaw, to your ear.
-
His boxers find your drenched panties again and press against you in just the right place. He’s so stiff, it takes your breath away, and a soft moan falls out of your mouth. He whispers, “This is all that matters,” and you want him to be right so bad. He nibbles then sucks your neck right under your ear. He grinds his rock-hard member into you in a slow rhythm at just the right angle.
“This,” he says, looking from your eyes to your mouth and back. He wraps his arms around you, grinding into you rhythmically. He kisses you again, and his tongue erases whatever words were on yours. Blood rushes to your lips with the gentle suction of his own. With his face still on yours, he slowly, carefully takes his boxers off under the blanket.
You slide your hand down his abdomen and your breath hitches as you graze the light padding of his lower stomach. You find that small, circular scar and gently caress it. He flinches, then moves your hand to his cock. It sends a bolt of need to your aching clit, but you still have to ask.
“What’s it from?”
“C’mere,” he says, and latches onto your mouth again as he thrusts into your hand.
You want his lips on yours forever. You want nothing more than to just give in and fuck him. You push yourself up with your arm and he rolls onto his back. You shrug off the blanket. He watches you in a trance as you straddle him with his cock still in your hand. You thumb his scar again and he says, “you know I served.” Right. Of course.
His stomach rises and falls, and his head tilts slightly as he watches you nestle his naked cock at your drenched, silky underwear, right against your clit. You roll your hips into him and moan at the friction.
“Let’s lose these, sugar,” he pants. He hooks his fingers into your underwear and you lift each leg to slowly slip out of them.
-
You settle back in, then close your eyes, tilt your hips, and use him to pleasure yourself. You drag along his cock, from your clit to your dripping entrance and back, making his manhood shine with you, and he groans. Then you lay your hips onto his again and his hips rock against you, with his unfathomably hard cock gliding firmly against your slick.
He moans and breathes heavily. “I gotta be inside you, sugar,“ he says as he grinds into you rhythmically.
“I’ve gotta know the truth,” you reply, but it physically pains you.
He groans. “Fuck,” he pants. “What do you wanna know?”
“What you’re up to,” you say as you use your hips to massage yourself with his stiff manhood.
He takes a deep breath. “It’s complicated,” he says, and you inwardly acknowledge he’s probably right. You stop moving and start to back yourself down his thighs. You bend at the hip and hover over his cock.
“Are you still in construction?” You stroke him slowly.
“Still own the business.” He adjusts his hips under you.
“But that’s not all you do.” You bring it almost to your mouth and take a deep whiff of his musk which makes you twitch with need.
“No,” he quietly admits.
You think about how to simplify this and get it over with. You throw caution to the wind and ask, “Do you kill people?” You thumb the precum beading at his tip. No immediate answer. Then, you take his salty tip into your mouth for just a kiss and he groans. You take it out.
He sighs. “You really wanna know?” He thrusts into your hand.
You give it another kiss. “Yeah.”
You slowly crawl back up his body and lay half on him and he rolls toward you so you’re on your side like before. You hook your top leg over him. You search his eyes for an answer, but he looks down at your bodies instead. His large hand engulfs your ass cheek, caresses it with his palm, then gives it a firm squeeze and pulls you hard against him, and your wet pussy meets his stiff cock again.
“What do you think?” He asks quietly, then buries his nose in your neck and whispers, “Cause you’re prolly right.” Your heart skips a beat. You wanted more, but at the same time, it feels like he just told you everything he has to tell - or that’s what you’re trying to believe, for your body’s sake. You don’t feel anything about what he just said. All you feel is him, and that’s all you want.
-
He groans as he grinds into you, and his neck vein bulges. He rolls his arousal harder against your slick seam and kisses your neck. “Come on, sugar,” he says.
You open your mouth but don’t have any words, you can only breathe. He ruts against you again and you close your eyes with a moan. You’re throbbing, physically aching, swollen with need, dying to have him.
“Gotta be inside you now baby,” Joel repeats, smooth and low. He thrusts hard against your clit, slow, but so hard. His mouth devours yours, and your nipples harden against his broad chest. When his stiff member drags back down your clit, he hesitates at your entrance, then puts his hand on your ass, and the tip of his cock is caught by a tilt of your hips. Tension swells and tightens deep within you.
He begins to slowly push the firm head of his cock into your tight, wet hole and reads your face. You have to remind yourself to breathe. Your brow furrows. You bite your lip and inhale through your nose. You both adjust your hips so the angle is just right. He pushes a little more, and the stretch of his girth makes your whole body dizzy and desperate for more. He pauses and you just barely nod.
The arm under you pulls you closer with his hand flat on your back while his other hand braces on your leg that’s hooked over him. Then he pushes his stiff length into you with a grunt that becomes a loud sigh, and you gasp as his thick cock makes room for itself inside you. He pauses when he’s mostly in, and you look into each other’s eyes.
“Now fuck me,” you whisper.
“Yes ma’am,” he growls. He backs out all but the tip, then plunges into you completely. Your mouth falls open with a moan as your bodies are finally joined and he bottoms out with a shudder.
His lips latch onto yours as he retreats, then slams into you again with a grunt. He buries himself in you, slow and hard, each time somehow better than the last. Your hips roll into him, and together, you gradually up the tempo. You kiss sloppily, half your mouths breathing heavily and vocalizing against each other’s cheek. Each exhale is a moan.
His hips roll fluidly against yours and his whole body tells you how bad he’s been wanting this. Every time he fills you up, you could cry from how good it feels. He opens his mouth wide and puts it on your neck again, gently sucking your delicate skin into his mouth. He grabs hold of your ass and uses the arm under you to gently put you on your back without fully pulling out. Your legs wrap around him and he sheathes himself entirely once again.
You hook your fingers under the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He takes in the view of your whole body again before he leans back down.
“You look so goddamn hot,” he says, looking down at you, thrusting into you. He looks hot, too.
The moonlight reveals a faint farmer’s tan from the barbecue. His pecs and triceps are pumped up and flexing as he moves in rhythm. His hair is messy and perfect. The silver bits of his beard glisten.
He leaves space between you and reaches down to thumb your clit, almost putting you over the edge, but you quickly take his hand and pull his body back into yours.
“About to come?” he asks. You nod and take a deep breath. He thrusts into you hard then slowly rocks his hips deep inside you with his neatly trimmed hair grinding into your clit. The tension bursts inside you and you groan his name as a massive wave of pleasure overwhelms you. Then another. You clench around him and your body jerks erratically. Your nipples go almost painfully hard and drag against him.
He pushes deeper than you thought possible, balls tightening against your ass, and you gasp and moan. Then he grunts, pulses inside you, and his whole body shudders as you milk his cock. You keep pulsing as he fills you up with his seed. Your whole body is drunk with him. When you’re both finished coming, he looks at you, and himself, then you again as he catches his breath. He strokes your face and says, “god damn.”
You almost forget you’re two different bodies until he slides out of you, leaving a void your insides try to fill. He lays on his side and takes you in his arms again.
-
He looks so peaceful. At the moment, you don’t care if you still don't know what’s going on. You don’t even care if he manipulated you into wanting this so desperately. All you care about is whether this is going to happen again, and you’re terrified of finding out it’s not. You start to worry about him going to do this job.
After a long silence, you say, “You don’t wanna do it, do you?”
“Do what?”
“Whatever you have to go and do.”
The peace evaporates from his face. He sighs. “No. . . No, I don’t, sugar.” He rubs his temples with the thumb and pinky of one massive hand.
“Then why do it?”
“No choice,” he says.
“That’s messed up,” you say. “I mean, not having a choice.”
“Yeah, well, it was my own dumb ass. Thought I was gettin’ outta somethin’ worse. Didn’t know what I was gettin’ into.”
“How do you get out of it now?”
“Finish the job, call it a day, see what happens.”
“Really?”
“It’s been a long time comin’.”
A couple seconds after he says it, a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t have to make the joke out loud. You playfully pinch his cheek.
“Worth the wait?” he asks with a smirk.
You shrug, and he says, “I’ll take it.” You can feel your whole face and body glowing. You don’t need to spell it out.
-
You get pensive thinking about why now, why tonight. “You weren’t just pissed at my dad, were you?”
He chuckles, then almost seems to panic when he sees you’re serious. “God, no, Trouble. . . “ His heart rate visibly quickens on his neck. He didn’t even have to ask you what you meant. He wraps his arms tight around you and kisses your head.
“So whatever happened to ‘not tonight’?” you ask.
“Couldn’t help it,” he says. “Neither could you.” Well, that’s true. “Plus, now I don't have to worry ‘bout you findin’ out you didn’t blackmail me. That woulda broken your sick little heart.”
“Maybe,” you say, still a little paranoid, but you push the thoughts away.
“I don’t think your dad needs to know about this,” he says. “That woulda been a sick serve though if I was mad at him,” he chuckles.
“Did you just say sick serve. . . “
“Sick serve,” he whispers in your ear.
“I don’t think that means what you– where do you pick this stuff up, anyway?”
“Prolly Jesse, he never shuts up.”
“So, Jesse’s-”
Joel puts his thumb on your lips. “Said too much already,” he says. “ You gotta keep it to yourself, okay?” You give his thumb a little bite before he takes it away.
It’s funny, you never had anything over him before, but now you kinda do. Not that you’ll do anything with it. Too dangerous.
“Yeah,” you say.
After a long silence, you ask, “What are you gonna do when it’s over?”
He sighs and adjusts his arms around you. “This right here,” he says. “If you want.”
You fall asleep in his arms again.
-
When you wake up, he’s gone. It’s light outside. Birds are chirping. You have a text from him that says “Stay here if you want. Back in a couple days.” You don’t stay there. It’s too creepy without him. You go back to your apartment, but you worry about him a lot and check your phone constantly. A few days later, you get off work, and when you walk out of the bookstore, he’s parked there, leaning against his truck, ankles crossed, wearing Ray Bans and a t-shirt, jeans as tight as ever, arms tucked under his massive biceps.
“Here comes trouble” he says as he pushes himself off his truck. He puts his hands on his hips and lets his pants adjust as he pops out one knee.
Your lips meet as he wraps his arms around you.
“All done?” you ask.
“Let’s celebrate,” he says. “Got that same suite on the river. Booked it for the rest of the month, so I reckon I’ll be around.”
-
Thank you for reading and engaging with this story for all six parts, y'all have been so awesome!
FWIW I see this as a happy ending with ominous undertones lol. I think I will come back to these two in the future (assuming there's still interest now that they've fucked). That's why I didn't blow my whole load in over explaining the subplot in this part. I initially included the sub plot so there would be an interesting basis to come back to them after the main story.
I just started another (darker) dad's best friend story: Left in Lincoln. In addition to smut it's also slow burn horror but no gore. Heed warnings. . .
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All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose
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The Barbecue. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 5 of 6)
5k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader, 18+ / pt 1 / master list
The long-awaited HOG (hot old guy) barbecue. Joel watches in the reflection of the window as you get out of the pool and grab a towel. You follow him inside. "Don't tell me that made you jealous," you say. "Turned me on," he responds, and you can tell.
NEXT: part 6 / Story Master List
WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+ dry humping, vaginal fingering, jacking off, brief oral (M receiving), semi-public-ish, swallowing, alcohol, irresponsible cook-out behavior, DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE, some angst, reader wears Joel's shirt, lack of PIV, blue balls. Do not read the dad as your actual dad!
Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro
All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea. @evyiione. ty @dark-scape for the support as usual.
Lmk if i missed you. Idk why some are buggy.
-
You don’t hear from Joel for days. The first day, you’re a mess of feelings, pinballing between numb and smitten.
You feel like you don't really know anyone in your life. The people you thought were closest are perfect strangers. You don't trust anyone. Your roommate is spending all her time with that friend of Chad’s. Your friend from home is on a trip overseas and won’t be back until the day after Independence Day. You feel like you don’t have anyone to hang out with, talk to, or even sit in silence with. You’re lonely and pensive.
On the other end of the spectrum, your mind (and body) frequently drift to that long-awaited kiss, and everything that happened in that hotel suite. You almost feel like if you can sleep with Joel, everything will be right in the world, even when it’s all wrong. Even when he’s part of what’s wrong. You know it’s illogical.
-
One afternoon, for a change of scenery, you go to the bookstore with the cafe where you work. Maybe you’re clinging to the last bit of familiarity that’s left. On the bulletin board at the entrance, there’s a flyer for Chad's band playing at your favorite spot. That must be why he originally came by the cafe the other day.
While you’re in the middle of the bookstore, you get a text from Joel and your face burns when you open it. It’s a disappearing dick pic. Not just his dick. It’s a blow job POV including his dick. “Your souvenir,” he says, like that’s all that happened. Your blood boils but also rushes to your loins.
That’s all he has to say to you? You respond, “really?” He’s trying to act like that whole car ride never happened.
“Wanna talk about it?” he responds. It’s nice that he offers, and your heart probably swells a little too much at the basic decency, but you’re actually not sure you want to talk about it. You’re almost afraid to find out more. You already wish you could rewind and live in blissful ignorance.
-
After an exhausting day of stewing and sulking, you decide to go to Chad’s show. It feels pathetic, but who cares? The way you see it, you don’t have anything to lose. Chad can’t hurt you anymore. It’s hard to imagine anyone who could. You text Chad to let him know you’re coming. He doesn’t text you back.
When you get to the venue, you don’t see anyone you know, at first. There’s still another band to play before them, so they should be hanging out near the merch table and you make your way over there. Finally, you see their drummer behind the cash box, then you see Chad’s hair from the back. The drummer says something to Chad, then Chad looks over at you. Your stomach turns when you see his face. You can only see half of it, but there’s a gauze bandage across his eyebrow and upper cheekbone. His mouth is scabbed over. Joel. Chad makes himself scarce as soon as he sees you.
You finally respond to Joel, “not really.” And that’s that. But you don’t know how you’re going to face him or your dad when you go home for the holiday.
-
On Independence Day, you’re so anxious that you drive right past the turn onto Joel’s street. You don’t forget, you just decide not to turn. You go to your friend’s house, even though you know she isn’t there. It’s a familiar place to park your car and try to calm yourself down. You sit there for almost an hour doing nothing but scrolling tumblr and listening to music.
When you don’t arrive at the barbecue, your dad and Joel separately call you and you don’t answer either of them. Based on your degree of dread with each respective call, you realize your dad is the one you least want to see. You’re not really harboring much negativity toward Joel at this point.
Frank texts you and you finally take a deep breath and decide to show up. Your plan is to detach as much as possible and let yourself leave as soon as you’re uncomfortable.
-
You pull up to Joel’s house wearing a bikini and the flannel with a change of clothes in your Billy Loomis tote. Pretty much everyone is already at Joel’s house. Tommy and Maria, Bill and Frank, your dad and stepmother, a couple of Joel’s neighbors, and two of your dad’s work friends, rounding out the requisite hot old guys (HOGs), according to your friend, at least. One of the HOGs, Steve, always looks at you like a piece of meat. You used to think he was just an old creep, but now he strikes you as a bit of a DILF.
A light breeze carries the smell of propane and pork butt as you approach the pool gate. Only Frank is in the pool. You’ll probably hang out with him the whole time. Joel is at the grill in swim trunks and t-shirt, talking to one of your father’s work friends. He doesn't even look up when you open the gate. His swim trunks sure do show a lot of thigh.
Your stepmother is all over your dad. You pry him off with a hug out of spite and to face your fears. Then, you go to the grill and hug Joel from the side. It’s way too hot to stand there long.
“There she is,” Tommy announces on the other side of the grill. He’s talking to a guy you don’t recognize who turns around and does a double-take.
“This is Jesse, he works with your dad.”
He extends his hand and says “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Hmm, that sounds ominous." You can imagine being very attracted to Jesse even a week ago, but suddenly you don't have interest in anyone under 40.
"Well I heard you like to swim, at least. I didn't wanna swim alone," Jesse says.
-
Frank has a tray at the side of the pool with a glass of wine and his phone on it. He puts his glass of wine down when you walk up.
"Thank God, I've been drinking by myself," he says.
"And what kind of pairing is this for your pork butt?" you tease him as you sit down on the edge and put your feet in. Bill just barely raises his glass to wave at you. He's sitting alone under the shade of an umbrella, wearing khakis and a button-down shirt.
"Hey I think I have this shirt," Frank says, and takes the flannel between his thumb and finger. He studies it contemplatively for a moment. You catch up with Frank for a while.
-
You call over to the grill, "Joel are you gonna swim?"
"I'm on butt duty," he says.
Frank gives you an inquisitive look then asks if you're gonna get in.
You put your stuff down on a chair, take the shirt off, and start applying sunscreen. Joel watches as you rub it into your bikini top. Then you turn around to give him a side view as you rub it into the part of your butt cheeks hanging out of the bottoms.
Jesse moseys over within seconds and takes off his shirt. And well, damn. When Jesse raises his eyebrows at you, you realize you've been staring while lazily reaching over your shoulder and applying sunscreen. You were really just looking at his tattoos. Mostly.
“Nice ink,” you say.
"Need a hand?" He asks. Why not? You hand Jesse the sunscreen and watch his face as he squirts some into his palm. He bites his lip.
You turn around facing the pool – facing Joel – and stretch out one leg in front of you, keeping the other bent, while Jesse rubs lotion into your back. He doesn’t do it in an erotic way, but you curl your toes and subtly bite your lip as though it is. You let your legs fall open a bit.
You lower yourself into the pool and have small talk with Jesse for a minute, then Joel says your real name for once and it makes your eyes go wide. He doesn't say it that loud but you still hear him from across the pool. "Gimme a hand?" He asks.
Jesse stays in the pool and awkwardly makes small talk with Frank.
-
Joel watches in the reflection of his big living room windows as you lift yourself out of the pool and get a towel. You follow him inside to the small, secondary kitchen and he closes the door behind you..
He pins you up against the counter, already aroused, and further hardens against your wet swimsuit, flooding you with desire from your core to your chest.
"Havin' fun?" He growls in your ear.
"Don't tell me that made you jealous."
"Turned me on," he says, low and horny.
He kisses your chin, then your neck. Your hands wrap around him and grab his ass, pulling him into you harder with your own soft grunt.
He slips his hand under the damp cup of your bikini top, his fingers curving around the side of your breast, thumb resting at your cleavage. His warm palm pushes your cold, hard nipple as he firmly cradles your breast, his hand applying slow pressure in rhythm with his hips. Your knees are weak. You're dripping, not just from the pool.
He wraps his arms around you and slides his warm hands into the sides of your swimsuit bottom, grabbing hold of your cold ass cheeks. He groans, "God almighty.”
He kneads your ass, pulling you into him and his rock-hard length. He kisses your neck and grinds himself into you. The feeling of his warm, thick rod slowly rutting against your clit drives you mad. You couldn’t get any wetter. If you don't have this man inside you soon, you might actually die. You reach into his shorts and use your other hand to try to take them down. He doesn't stop you.
But there’s a knock at the door. Good Lord. You know who it's going to be.
Joel puts his dick away and removes a big pan of coleslaw from the fridge. He hands you the coleslaw while you open the door.
"Am I interrupting anything?" She asks.
"No," You say, then cock your head and add "Am I?" You hold eye contact for several seconds, then hand her the cole slaw and ask, "don't you and Dad have some catching up to do?"
Your stepmother takes the coleslaw outside.
You close the door behind her. “Basement?,” you ask, and start toward the pantry at the back of the space. There’s a hidden staircase that opens into the movie theater downstairs.
Joel groans and rubs his beard. “Later,” Joel says with a sigh. “We better go back out.”
You scoff. “Really?”
“Go on back outside.” He opens the door to the main kitchen.
-
When you get back to the pool, Jesse's already gone, talking to your dad. When you get back in, Frank says, "You little minx." He's got Instagram pulled up on his phone and shows you a picture from several years ago of Joel and him together, both wearing the shirt you arrived in. "Tell me everything."
Your face gets hot. “Seems to be a popular shirt,” you say.
"No," Frank says. "Shirt's just the kicker. There's something about the way you say each other's names. They sound like a secret." Frank is good at reading people.
"What, you think I fucked him? I didn't." At least you don't have to lie about that.
"Maybe not yet," he scoffs. Frank looks behind you and covers his mouth, then says “Look at his shirt." Yeah, Joel’s shirt has just the right wet spots. In theory, they could've been from a hug. It basically was a hug.
"Ever heard of a hug?" you say.
Frank raises his eyebrows then holds up his glass of wine and "accidentally" clinks his wedding ring on it before downing the rest. Bill hears it and comes over with the bottle. Frank gives him a look with the slightest nod across the pool, like he can't even wait a couple hours to share his new gossip. Bill's eyes dart over to Joel, then meet Frank's eyes again. As usual, no reaction is visible on Bill's face, aside from a twinkle in his eye. "Everything to your liking, sir?" he asks Frank.
Frank smiles, "Come on, at least dip your feet," but Bill leaves. Just as well, Frank's not done prodding you.
"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," Frank shrugs. "But I know you want to. . . and my lips are sealed. . ."
Frank is one of the most trustworthy people you know, so you don't worry about him spilling it. You just don’t feel like saying it out loud and putting words to it. Once it exists in the air, it’s something that can be broken. Something that can fall apart.
You panic and tell Frank about Joel and your stepmother instead. You claim you're just keeping Joel close for now while you decide what to do. You leave out any details about what close means.
The initial look on his face is horror, then Frank looks like he's going to cry. "Are you okay?"
"Chill," you say, looking around nervously. "Jesus, how much wine have you had?"
"Sorry, I just. I'm sorry. I know it's hard. That's all." He hugs you, and over Frank’s shoulder, you see Joel looking across the pool with his brow furrowed even more than usual.
"Well, don't forget my dad cheated on my mom with her, so, whatever," you say.
"Well, exactly. That's why I worry-"
Your face tells him to stop, so he changes the subject. "So what about that guy from the band, is that still a thing?"
You sigh. "Chad? No. Nothing juicy, just no."
"Got it," he says and you know you can trust him not to bring it up again. He follows your eyes back to Joel. You’re not off the hook, but at least you don’t have to talk about it.
-
The actual meal is relatively uneventful. It’s hard to be around your father right now. Deep down, you knew there were secrets. You knew he wasn’t the most upstanding man. You never fully trusted him after what he did to your mom. But at this point, he feels like a stranger. You’re almost glad his wife is cheating on him.
Steve, the hotter of your dad’s non-Joel friends, tries hitting on you. Asks if you like to party. Says he bets you get pretty wild after a few drinks. Pressures you to do shots with him. Why not, you think. You do one shot, but make Joel join in.
“Bad fuckin’ influence over here,” Joel says and gives Steve a slap on the back. Steve tries to egg you on to do more, but you don’t and neither does Joel.
"That's why we call him Mr. One Shot," Jesse says. laughing at his own joke.
Joel bristles at the nickname and crosses his arms, jamming his hands under his ungodly biceps.
Steve lowers his voice and asks Joel, "How many shots in Uvalde?" Joel doesn’t answer.
"One," Jesse says. "Miller’s too modest, you're embarrassing him," he laughs.
Joel tenses. "Give it a rest, Jesse. Have some discretion."
Jesse looks at your end of the table and swallows. “Right”
Your stepmother abruptly changes the subject. She asks Jesse how old he is and why she hasn’t seen him before. She’s drunk, and every time she looks at Jesse, she looks like she could eat him alive.
Your dad elbows Jesse. “I think my wife likes you,” he says with a wink. It’s awkward.
-
Joel’s face is a little pink from the sun, and it looks good on him. He’s looking at your face, but not making eye contact. He seems to be in a trance. You kind of feel like you should still be mad at him, but for some reason, you’re not. And you’re not going to deprive yourself out of spite. You can feel Frank noticing every detail of this.
Bill pours the last of a bottle of wine, and you volunteer to go to the wine cellar. Bill says they’ve had enough. Frank protests that he wants one more glass. He asks you for a German Riesling, with a wink. You subtly shake your head at him, falsely denying what he knows you’re up to.
-
You stand in the wine cellar, enjoying the cool air, then sit on a cabinet that spans the whole back wall. It’s only a few minutes before you hear Joel’s flip flops echoing down the stairs, presumably with the pretext of helping you find the wine. He crosses the cellar without even glancing at the wine. “Leavin’ for the fireworks in 15,” he says.
He has that horny look in his eyes and there’s already a bulge in his swim trunks. The way his t-shirt stretches over his pecs and arms — God damn.
When Joel reaches you, his massive hands part your knees, then lightly stroke your bare thighs. His lips brush your temple as he says, “You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days.”
“That’s the idea,” you say as his hands wrap around your back and he slides you closer to the edge of the cabinet. When your crotch comes to rest against his, an acute desire floods your breasts. You squeeze his sides with your thighs, then roll your hips into his arousal and hook your hands under his arms, bringing him closer.
You slide your hands down his back and into his swim trunks, feeling his ass and bringing the trunks down. At the same time, you pull his hips into you and the swell of his hard-on against your clit makes you throb with need. You start to untie your bikini bottoms while he gropes a breast.
His mouth latches onto your neck. You let the front of the bottoms fall between your thighs, and tilt your hips in just the right way. He brings a hand between your legs and drags his flattened fingers up and down your slippery seam, then thrusts two of them inside and you moan.
“Fuuck,” he breathes.
You grab his cock. “Come on,” you beg as you tug him. He takes his hard length from you, holds it in his hand, and furrows his brow as he pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you. You try to read his face. He breathes heavily as he fingers you.
“Fuck me already,” you beg.
He looks down at himself and shakes his head no, but looks pained by his own answer.
“We both know it’s gonna happen,” you say.
He takes a deep breath as though to restrain himself. “Maybe so, but not tonight.”
He removes his fingers and brings the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance. A bolt of need shoots through you. He dwells there for a moment, takes another deep breath, then lays his stiff manhood vertically against your seam and pulls you tight against him. Then he grinds wetly against your aching clit, and your hips roll into him. Your head falls back and you moan. Your eyes are watery.
“God, Joel. . .this is . . .so dumb. . . just fu-”
You cut yourself off with a moan as he quickens his pace and grunts.
“Pleeease.”
“Shhhhhhh,” he says. You’re on the verge of coming and on the verge of tears. He holds you tight for leverage then goes jackhammer pace.
“Joel. . .”
“Come for me, sugar,” he pants. And not long after, you do. You clench around nothing, pulse against him, and you hear the echo of a breathy “Joel” you didn’t know you said.
He takes his cock in his hand again and looks at you with his pupils blown wide. His breath is ragged as he strokes himself. You find yourself slipping down off the cabinet. He doesn’t deserve what you’re about to do, you just want it for yourself, for whatever reason. He steps back and you squat down to face level with his cock. You hover your mouth over it, then wrap your lips around the head, and he comes with an echoing groan before you take any of the shaft into your mouth. His cum even tastes unattainable. Your eyes sting.
You fix your swimsuit and compose yourself.
“C’mere,” he says and hugs you. You don't really hug him back. You wipe a tear off your cheek. He tries to kiss you, but you’re too upset, and it would make you need him even worse than you already do.
-
Joel’s phone rings and he picks it up. “We’re comin’,” he says. “C’mon, let’s go.” He puts his arm around you but your demeanor doesn’t soften. You’ve had it with him depriving you.
“Ya know, maybe it’s a good night to talk to my dad,” you threaten as you near the top of the stairs.
“Damn, Trouble.” You can't tell if he’s impressed or judging you. “I said not tonight. I didn’t say never.”
That makes you think twice, at which point you realize what you just did. . .You tried to blackmail Joel for sex.
He adjusts his shorts. God, what’s become of this situation in just a few days - you try to put it out of your mind. You can beat yourself up over it later.
Joel stops you with his hand on yours before you open the door. “Look,” he continues. “Before you do anything stupid, there’s somethin’ I should tell you later.”
You lean against the wall and cross your arms. “Lemme guess, you and Dad are up to some shady, dangerous shit.”
“Nothin’ to do with that,” Joel says, lowering his voice.
“So you are.”
“Dangerous, yes, shady, no. We’re the good guys. Less you know ‘bout that, the better.”
“Why?”
“For your safety.”
You open the door to the living room and people are milling around deciding who’s riding with whom to the fireworks. Frank says, “hey, she didn’t get bricked in,” and hands you your bag from outside so you can change.
-
You and Joel ride with Bill and Frank to the fireworks. Frank keeps looking back and making small talk, but you and Joel mostly look out your opposite windows. You get to thinking about what Joel said. Not tonight. . . I didn’t say never. . . If he means that, maybe it’s worth the wait. Maybe you should hear him out, whatever he has to tell you.
During the fireworks, you come around a little. Joel playfully covers your ears, knowing you’ve always hated loud noises. When Bill and Frank drop you off at Joel’s afterwards, everyone is going their separate ways. You're relieved to see your dad and stepmother drive off before you have to say goodbye.
You start to go to your car, wanting to quit while you're ahead and not end up begging for it again. Joel stops you with gentle hands on your shoulders.
"Come in for a minute. Let's talk." A pit opens in your stomach.
The two of you go in through the pool gate. “Lemme make you a drink,” he says. That sounds even worse.
. . .
Joel hands you your favorite cocktail, then comes around the bar with his own drink to sit on the stool next to you. He takes a deep breath and puts his hand on your knee. He seems almost as nervous as you are. You can't remember seeing him nervous before.
“Yeah?” you prompt him.
He nods and takes a sip of his drink, then looks you in the eye. He puts his glass down, then takes yours out of your hand and puts it down on the counter too.
He swivels you toward each other. He looks like he's about to say something, then something changes in his eyes. He cradles your head with both hands, lays his lips into yours, and kisses you slow and hard, his tongue dipping into your mouth.
After a few seconds, you don’t even notice the taste of his whiskey, and his hands trace your body on their way down to your thighs. It’s intense but tender. You can’t help but feel like it’s some kind of a kiss goodbye. It scares you. He slides off the stool and gets in between your knees, tries to put your legs around him again, and that’s certainly where your legs want to go. But you want to hear what he has to say first.
You pull away and your hand drifts up to your lips. They buzz from his fervor. Your chest rises and falls.
“Spit it out,” you tell him.
“Right," he says. "I dunno if you’re still gonna wanna. . .” He downs his drink. It’s hard for you to imagine anything that would make you not want to fuck him anymore.
Finally, he begins. "Alright. . . ‘member what I said at lunch the other day, 'bout how monogamy isn’t for everyone?"
"Yeah." If this is all to say it’s not for him, it’s not hitting like much of a bombshell. Now, if he's going to tell you about other people he's fucking–when he's not even fucking you—that's a different story.
"Well," he clears his throat and looks away. "Your dad-"
You interrupt him with a loud sigh. "Just because he cheats doesn't mean you can sleep with his wife." You’re annoyed he’s even going there.
Joel holds up his hands as though to tell you to slow down. "Lemme finish. 'member what I said, how even in a marriage, some couples. . . ." He tries to make you fill in the blanks for yourself, but you won't. "Okay,” he shifts in his seat and begins to gesticulate vaguely. “Your dad and stepmother, they have an arrangement."
You feel the blood drain from your face. You think about the way she was eyeing Jesse. "Gross," you say.
He swallows and nods regretfully as you process this. He waits patiently as your heart races along with your thoughts, then you spill them out all at once. "I dunno why I would believe you. OR why you would believe her. Is that what she told you?” You laugh. “Whatever. Even if it's true, you aren't just any guy-"
"He knows," Joel says almost somberly. “About me.”
"Oh, he knows?" you laugh. He couldn't possibly. This is a terrible attempt at defusing the whole situation for himself. And yet, he looks like he feels bad for you.
"The first time, he talked me into it."
Deep breaths. "That's insane. That's. . .this is your new plan? Try to convince me my dad is some perverted cuckold?"
"No, not like that." He shivers in disgust. "Damn, Trouble. That's where your head went? No. . . when he. . .it was like. . . a swap.”
Your stomach turns.
“Okay, remember my date to Bill and Frank's wedding? The stripper?” Your heart sinks. “Your dad, um, really liked her, and-"
"I get the picture," you say, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, recalling that your dad did in fact really like Joel's date. It was embarrassing.
"It was casual with me and. Shit, what was her name. Anyway, we were all stayin' in that hotel gettin' sloshed at the pool, an-"
You open your eyes and say, "Yeah, I got it, okay?" Then, you walk over to the sofa to sit down. He follows you. You feel sick to your stomach and don't want to hear another word about it. You cross your arms and slouch, sitting in silence for a moment.
He hesitantly puts his hand on your knee, sending a rush of blood to your loins. You don’t know what to feel.
"Did you really end it with her?" You ask.
He sighs. "More or less."
Now rage starts simmering in your chest.
"Told her I wanted a break.”
Unbelievable.
“That just — it lessens the blow. But trust me, I'm not doin' it again. Especially after how she’s been actin’."
You wish you could believe him.
You ask, "Why'd you let me think it was some huge secret?"
He's quiet for a moment.
"I don’t think your dad would appreciate you knowin’ about it," he says. "But I was gonna tell you anyway."
“Yeah, right.”
“‘Yeah. . . ‘member all those calls you ignored?”
“But then I got to thinkin’ about it, and I guess. . . .”
"What?”
"I," he pauses and sighs. "Shit, I dunno, it was hot. Really hot. The way you acted, thinkin' you had somethin' over me. . .never saw that side of you before."
Now this you can believe.
"Next day, still thought about tellin’ ya. But after the pool, there was no goin’ back. I mean, damn."
There’s a sparkle in his eye as he reflects on that. He adjusts himself, which always makes you tingle, even now. Especially now? God, you have no idea.
"Guess it kinda did somethin' to me,” he says. He raises his eyebrows and gives your thigh a rub, but you flinch. It isn’t personal, you’re just on edge, but his eyes get sad and he takes his hand away, resting it in his lap as he sits back lazily on the couch.
You ask, "So why tell me now?"
"I dunno, maybe I'm growin' a conscience."
You try to make sense of that, but you can’t. Why would he feel guilty about you doing something as depraved as blackmailing him into sex?
"Woulda been hot as hell though. Maybe I shoulda let ya go through with it. Damn.”
It sounds like everything is up to him, and apparently, it is.
He hesitantly rests his hand on your back and slowly rubs it. You take a deep breath and sigh audibly. You’re melting under his fingertips.
He lowers his voice, “So, now that you know everything . . .”
His phone buzzes. When he looks at it, he tenses and sharply inhales.
“Your dad’s here,” he says.
And your car is still parked outside in the turnaround.
-
Planning for the next chapter to be the last in this story. . .
#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#perdo pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut#toxicanonymity ☠️#toxicdbf#dbf!joel#pervy!joel#dbf!joel miller#joel miller/reader#joel miller/you#bill and frank#joel jacks off#toxic dilf summer
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