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macfrog · 10 months

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moneyball cowboy like me chapter four

part iv of dbf!joel is yours!!! check out my masterlist to find the first three chapters for all your dbf needs. as always, thank you all so much for all the love n support. you guys make writing this series so much fun!! 🤍 i lowkey don't know whether or not i hate this chapter but i had to write it once the idea was in my head 🤷‍♀️ enJOY

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: when joel double-books you and your dad, you decide to teach him a lesson

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! oral (f receiving), praise kink, lotsa teasing, lil bit of bratty reader, lil bit of dom!joel, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), consumption of alcohol, cursing

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You raise your eyebrows at Joel innocently as you push the popsicle deep into your mouth, sucking as far as the back of your throat will allow, before dragging it back out with a pop. A thread of sweet, fruit-flavored saliva strings between the tip of the popsicle and your bottom lip as you pull it away. You run your tongue slowly over your lips and smile at him. He looks pissed. He can’t take his eyes off of you, or your swollen lips, but he looks ready to snap. “I found snacks, by the way,” you lull.

How slutty is too slutty? When you’re going over to your dad’s best friend’s to…Well, you’re not quite sure what yet. You’ve picked out a short blue summer dress, strappy back, with black lace panties underneath. If you’re looking, and the light is right, you can see them through the blue fabric.

Joel would, you know that much. That’s all you really care about.

You’re putting earrings on in the mirror when your dad knocks and edges into your room.

“Where you headed, kiddo?”

“Just out for a drink with Sam. Said we’d have a catch-up at the barbecue, so.”

He narrows his eyes.

“It’s not a date.”

“Hey,” he lifts his hands, “I didn’t say anything. When will you be home?”

“Dunno. Why?”

“I’ll be at Joel’s, so remember your key. Just in case.”

Excuse me? Did he just say –

“Joel’s?”

He nods, sitting down on your bed behind you. You stare at him in the mirror.

“What’s happening at Joel’s?”

“Rangers game. He’s having Bill and Hank and me.”

Just then, your phone buzzes. You subtly lean over and catch a glimpse of the screen before it fades to black again.

Joel: Call me when you’re alone. ASAP

You roll your eyes and let out a low sigh.

“Can you give me a sec, Dad? I think I wanna change my outfit.”

“Sure. I’ll give you a holler when I’m leavin’.”

He shuts your door behind him and you wait until you hear his footsteps recede to call Joel.

“Hey, baby, listen, I’m gonna have to raincheck.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Something’s come up.”

“Right.” Your tone is muted and flat. On purpose. Joel notices.

“So…we’ll figure somethin’ out, right? You workin’ much this week?”

You scoff. “I dunno, depends on when the next Rangers game is, doesn’t it?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then he takes a deep breath. “Kid, I’m so sorry–”

“Here I am,” you throw your arms up and march around your room, though you know he can’t see you, “getting ready, putting together the sluttiest-within-reason outfit I own, and all the while you’re gearing up to host my dad and your buddies.”

“…You’re wearing somethin’ slutty?”

“Not anymore,” you huff as you pull the dress off. “I’m changin’ into sweatpants.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’d still be into you in the sweatpants.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs. “I will have them out and gone as soon as the game’s done, and then you can come over, okay? Sound good?”

“And you’ll make it up to me?”

“I intend to.”

“’kay. Just know you’re gonna pay for this.”

He says through a chuckle, “See you later, baby.”

You hang up.

You rake through your drawers for something a little more comfortable to wear, settling for a floral skirt and off-shoulder top. Equal parts casual and suggestive. Perfect for payback.

Joel knows he’s gonna pay. He just doesn’t know when.

“Hey, hon, that’s me headin!” your dad calls up the stairs.

“Wait up!” you reply, grabbing your shoes and hopping out of your room. “I’m comin’.”

“You want a ride to Frank’s?”

“No, I’m coming to Joel’s.”

He watches you struggle down the stairs with one shoe on, brows furrowed. “You wanna…come watch the game? What about Sam?”

“He just cancelled.”

Your dad looks tickled. “Cheatin’ on ya, is he?”

You stand straight, finally having pulled your shoe on, and punch his arm. “I’ll be in the car.”

“Alright…” he mumbles, following you out.

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Joel’s face when he opens the door is a picture you never want to forget.

“Hey– I – did not know you were comin’.” He ushers you both in.

“Neither did I,” your dad replies, “she decided last minute. Blew off some date with that boy from Frank’s for this.”

“It was not a…” Your sentence ends with a sigh as you follow him inside, looking up at Joel as you pass. He knows damn well you didn’t even have plans with Sam, never mind a date.

“Big Rangers fan?” Joel calls from behind as the three of you head for the living room.

“Yes,” you reply, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible.

“Big enough to schedule a date during the game?”

“I’m sure I’m not the first to do that,” you hiss through your teeth, and he gives you an amused grin.

Bill and Hank haven’t arrived yet. Your dad sits in his usual recliner seat and sighs. You and Joel share the couch, where he turns on you to interrogate you more.

“So, what’s with the change of heart?”

“I, uh…I didn’t know it was this game.”

“And what game’s that?”

“The…Uh…You know. Rangers.” You shrug.

“Name three players.”

“That’s sexist,” you reply, pointing a finger at him.

Your dad cackles, rocking back and forth in the chair. “Beers, Joel?”

“In the fridge,” Joel answers, eyes still on you.

Your dad, who’d be oblivious to a hurricane outside if it weren’t for the warnings on the news, waltzes past the pair of you, locked in a death stare.

“You’re here to cause tr–”

“Trouble, yeah.” You flash him an innocent smile. “You caused it first.”

The doorbell rings and Joel doesn’t move, eyes still dancing all over your body; your shoulders, your hips, your thighs peeking through the slit in your skirt.

Your dad calls through from the kitchen, offering to get it, and you hear the rumble of Hank and Bill’s voices.

When Joel’s eyes meander back up to meet yours, a dangerous look in them, he leans in close. You tilt your jaw to allow him access, but his lips never touch you.

Breath hot on your skin, his Southern drawl whispers, “I started it, and I know how to finish it, pretty girl.”

Then he stands and heads to the hallway to meet his guests. You clamp your legs together.

Bill roars your name when he sees you. “I didn’t fuckin’ know you liked the Rangers!”

You stand and nervously accept his arms over your shoulders, squeezing you so tight it takes your breath away. Joel stifles a laugh in the doorway.

“I just wanted to be around for all the fun,” you almost gasp when he releases you.

Hank is older and smaller in frame, and he gives your hand a little squeeze as he passes by to the couch. “We’re up for it tonight, kiddo,” he smiles sweetly, “it’ll be a good’un.”

“Bill, beer? Hank?”

“Bourbon for me, Joel. Brought my own bottle.” He hands it over.

As your dad squeezes past to join his friends, Joel clicks his fingers at you and jerks his head toward the kitchen. Your jaw falls open with mock offense.

“Dick,” you whisper as you pass.

“Needed help from my waitress with the drinks,” Joel murmurs with a smirk, the two of you heading through.

He opens the fridge and reaches up to grab three beers – Buds, you notice – from the top shelf. His shirt lifts a sliver from the waistband of his jeans, exposing the tan skin beneath.

Your head cocks as you stare at him, gripping onto the worktop, probably more to stop yourself from approaching him than to look casual. But when Joel turns back around, he reads you like an open book.

“Quit starin’,” he mutters, nudging you to shift out of his way.

You don’t budge, so Joel shifts further up the counter. When you slide up to follow him, pinning yourself between him and the marble surface, he scoffs.

“Stop that,” he whispers.

“Stop what? Thought you knew how to finish this?”

“Alright,” he hums, arms reaching around yours to crack the beers open in front of you. Your back is flush against his chest.

“Then,” he mumbles, chin hooked over your shoulder, “we take this,” he reaches for a whiskey glass and Hank’s bottle of Yellow Rose, sliding them over in front of you with one hand. He takes your hands in his, using you like a puppet to pour Hank’s drink.

You can’t help but giggle as his stubble grazes your cheek.

When you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, you feel an unmistakable swell behind your ass. Joel’s breath falters for a brief second.

You want more. To be frank, you’d take him here and now if it weren’t for his buddies in the next room. But this isn’t about what you want right now. Not yet.

You push off the counter gently, your ass touching Joel’s crotch, grinding into him. His jaw tightens, teeth lock together, and he emits a low growl. He doesn’t move; just stands with his arms around you, hands gripping the worktop, holding you in place as your hips rut on his hardening bulge.

The TV is switched on and you hear a familiar commentator’s voice.

“Joel!” your dad yells from the living room.

“Had your fun?” he grumbles in your ear.

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

He moves his arms then, letting you go, taking his and Bill’s beers and Hank’s bourbon, and backs away. His eyebrows are cocked, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

You watch him until he disappears into the living room, and snap out of your daze. I’m not here to be wooed by him.

I’m here to make him finish what he started.

When you enter the living room, beer in hand, all four men are literally on the edge of their seats, as far forward as they can get without actually sliding off of Joel’s couch.

You notice a space between Joel and Hank, and slip between the coffee table and Hank’s legs. He moves back to allow you the space to squeeze by and slot in on Joel’s left.

As you fall down into your seat, all eyes glued on the TV screen, your right hand comes up to balance yourself – Who are you kidding? – on Joel’s thigh. The inside of Joel’s thigh.

His head jerks down to stare at your fingers, locked around his leg. Checking nobody’s looking, you move it slightly upward. Closer to his –

“What are you doin’?” he whispers through gritted teeth, low enough that the other men don’t hear.

“Watchin’ the game,” you reply, innocent and sweeter than sugar.

His free hand takes hold of yours and slides it off of his thigh without looking, eyes always on the room around him.

You breathe a laugh as he readjusts in his seat, sitting up awkwardly straight and keeping his legs a safe distance away, parallel to yours.

You’re just getting started.

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Let’s be frank about it: baseball is fucking boring.

Well, let’s rephrase. It’s not that you don’t like watching it; you’re sure that, in more appropriate circumstances – relaxing on a lazy Sunday, or at an actual game, where the atmosphere buzzes with excitement – you could enjoy it.

But right now, you’re sat with your dad’s buddies, an ache between your legs that you can’t fix, and the only person who can fix it, is refusing to even look at you.

Given the situation at hand, you can’t really fault him for that. But you’re still a little mad.

When they roar at the screen for what feels like the thousandth time, you decide to take yourself for a quiet jaunt to the kitchen.

“You got snacks?” you ask Joel.

“Cupboard above the microwave,” he replies, gaze locked on the game.

You saunter out of the living room, finishing the dregs of your beer, and place the bottle in Joel’s sink.

Reaching up to search his cupboards, you find one bag of Cheetos and another bag of pretzels. You toss them both on the counter, and they land a little bit away from Hank’s bottle of bourbon.

You pick it up, reading the label. You’ve never really been much of a whiskey drinker, but you’re bored, and it’s here, so you may as well.

You pour a little into the bottom of a glass and lift it to your lips, giving it a good sniff before you take a sip. Your face screws up immediately, swallowing just to get the liquid off of your tongue, feeling it burn its way down your throat.

“You okay in there, kiddo?” your dad calls, hearing your coughing, and you splutter a “Yep!” in response.

Would it taste better with ice, you think? Maybe if you could get used to it, it wouldn’t be that bad. You amble over to Joel’s refrigerator and haul the freezer door open, in search of ice cubes, but finding something even better.

You lift the box, sliding one of them out and unwrapping it. When you knock the freezer door closed with your hip, you strut through to the living room and stand behind the couch in the doorway.

No one notices you sneak in; they’re all waving their fists and yelling curses at the TV.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Four heads turn to give you an update on the game, and three hastily turn back when the crowd suddenly begins cheering.

One head, though, whips straight back to you. Stood in his living room doorway. Sucking on a popsicle.

He looks pissed. He can’t take his eyes off of you, or your swollen lips, but he looks ready to snap.

“I found snacks, by the way,” you lull.

“Yeah? Good.” He twists back around to face the television, a hand running across his jaw. He shuffles in his seat again, just as awkward as he is uncomfortable.

You let out a quiet giggle and meander gleefully back through to the kitchen.

Not long after, you’re at Joel’s counter eating some of his pretzels when he and your dad stalk through, followed by Bill and Hank.

“Game over?”

“No, kid,” Bill chuckles, “seventh-inning stretch.” He yanks open Joel’s refrigerator and takes three more beers, passing them around.

He perches on a bar stool next to you, bringing a hand down on your back – loving, of course, but in typical Bill nature, kinda painful.

“We ain’t doin’ too bad,” Hank muses as he pours another whiskey, and your dad nods silently.

Your eyes flit between the men, now deep in conversation about the game, then land on Joel, leaning against the doorframe sipping on a beer, his eyes on you.

You lean over the counter, popping your ass out, and make him watch as you open your mouth, extend your tongue, and place a salty pretzel on it, closing your lips around your finger and licking it clean.

His expression never changes. Just watches like you want him to, beer bottle clutched in his fist.

“I’ll take these.” Bill’s hand swings across and scoops up the Cheetos, and before you know it, they’re making their way back out of the kitchen.

Joel’s eyes bore into yours as your dad, Bill, and Hank filter out past him. He’s mad, you can tell that much. He paces over to you.

“Knock. It. Off.” His voice is a low growl.

You shake your head. “No can do.”

He sighs, gripping your wrist. Before you can take a breath, he’s dragging you out of the kitchen and upstairs, where he makes a right and almost shoves you down the dim hallway.

“The hell is your game?” he hisses when you’re out of earshot of the others.

“Having fun, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to keep everybody from seeing the fun you’re having. Touchin’ and rubbin’, lookin’ at me like that in front of everyone. The damn popsicle.”

“You liked that, huh?”

“You gettin’ off on this?”

“Mhm.” You nod a little too desperately.

“Well, quit it. When we’re alone, fine, do whatever you want. Not when your dad’s watchin’.”

“My dad ain’t seeing none of it and you know it.”

He runs a hand through his hair and brings it down over his eyes. Seeing him this stressed and undone over you, over what you’re doing to him, sends pulses of electricity through your body.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you, girl?”

You shrug. “Maybe you should punish me.”

“Maybe I fuckin’ should,” he spits, turning away from you.

As if just hearing what you said, he turns on his heel, staring you down with an expression you read to mean one thing: he’s fucking considering it.

“Maybe I fuckin’ should…” he whispers again.

You try to keep your cool façade up, but the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark, jaw clenched, towering over you and cornering you against the wall, has you so wet and needy that you can’t pretend anymore.

“Joel…”

Whatever you were about to say is cut short by the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Joel reacts before you do, reaching behind you to pull a door open and backing you into his linen closet, quietly following you in and closing the door again.

There are just inches between you both, pressed chest to chest in the tiny confines of the closet. Joel’s head tilts and listens for Hank’s figure, stumbling back and forth across the landing in pursuit of the bathroom.

“Where’d you say it was, Bill?” he calls downstairs.

“First door on the right, dumbass!” Bill’s voice shouts back up.

Joel’s fist suddenly wraps around the handle, his eyes glued to the wall above your head, listening intently. He’s making sure Hank doesn’t try the wrong door.

Which, of course, he inevitably does.

It rattles some, but Joel’s grip stops the handle from turning. He glares up, shaking his head, mouthing profanities. First door, you fuckin’ moron. You stifle a laugh behind both hands.

“Hank!” your dad’s voice shouts from downstairs. “Not that one, idiot, the one next to it!”

Finally, the door stops trembling.

“I see it now, sure enough,” Hank mumbles, and you both listen to him spill into the bathroom next door.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding in your chest. Joel lifts his hand off of the door handle and places it around your jaw.

“You’re gonna be real quiet, alright?”

He’s speaking so low and so quiet that your eyes track his lips to read the words he’s saying.

“Gonna do what I say and keep that pretty little mouth shut.”

You squirm under his touch, hands gripping his shoulders, desperate for him to kiss you.

Instead, he holds your jaw tight and forces you to look at him.

“Say it.”

“I’ll be quiet,” you breathe, “I’ll be good. Just fucking touch me.”

He runs his tongue along your bottom lip then, asking it to part, and when it does, pulls you roughly against him, free hand dropping to your ass. His tongue battles strong against yours, bittersweet with the taste of beer.

You feel yourself intoxicated with the taste of him, the smell of him, the feeling as his hips purposefully rut into yours. You want him to mark you again, give you something to hide, something to make half-assed excuses over when people spot it. You want him to make you his.

You moan into his mouth, hands finding his hair, and he grips you tighter.

“Shut – the fuck – up,” he snaps between kisses.

He pauses only to listen to Hank tumble out of the bathroom and back downstairs, then gives you a peck on the lips with a cocky smile.

Suddenly he’s at your neck, lips kissing, tongue licking, teeth grazing, and then he’s making his way down, over your breasts, breath hot and unsteady on your heaving chest.

You can hear the booming laughter of the men downstairs. Their shouts and calls at the television. It all echoes up the stairs, floating in under the slit of light from the hallway outside.

Joel’s on his knees now, placing delicate kisses up your thighs. His hands pull your weight onto his shoulders, fingers taking hold of the hem of your skirt and hiking it up. When he reaches your underwear, he looks up, a dark look in his eyes. A question.

“Quiet,” you mutter, nodding, and buck your hips toward him in attempt to hurry him the fuck up.

He smirks at your neediness and kisses you over the lacey fabric of your panties. You bite your lip to keep a moan from escaping your lips. Joel’s eyebrows raise, waiting for you to make a sound. When you don’t, he pulls the fabric back.

He positions himself perfectly at your sex, pulling your thighs a little wider apart over his shoulders. Your head falls against the wall behind you, but your eyes stay locked on him, watching every little move he makes.

He starts by placing his lips against your clit gently, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s soft, warm, but with a hunger for more.

He sucks there for a minute, your hips rolling against his mouth, vision becoming clouded with stars in the darkness of the closet. Your hands tease his hair, gripping and pulling harder the more pressure he applies to your core, the closer he drags you to your high.

When he pulls away, a tiny gasp passes your lips. You expect him to get mad, punish you for making noise, but he just grins to himself and dives back in.

His tongue licks along your folds and you have to bite down on your sleeve this time. It’s no use, your moan breaks free and fills the tiny space, but Joel’s groaning too as he tastes you for the second time in three days.

“So – fucking – good for me, darlin’,” he whispers when he comes up for air, then gets right back to it.

His fingers grip your thighs so tight it almost hurts, keeping you steady. His head drops a little lower, and you feel his breath across your lips.

“Joel,” you moan, and he looks up. “Need your tongue.”

When he drags it between your folds and dips ever so slightly inside you, your back arches, shoulders digging into the wall. You’re doing everything not to scream, his tongue lapping you up, nose rubbing against your clit, but you’re nearing closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Keep – going – fuck, Joel,” you breathe, eyes screwed shut, hands tangling in his hair, pulling his head closer against you.

“Shh,” he’s cooing now against your cunt, pulling a hand under your thigh to insert two fingers as his tongue massages your clit. “I know, I know,” he says, lifting his chin. “Poor baby just wanted some attention, huh?”

You smile, eyes closing in bliss as his tongue reattaches to your core. You whimper his name as your walls start to close around him.

Just then, a roar lets out from the living room, and the coil snaps. You cry out, moaning Joel’s name as you cum on his tongue, your sweet noises drowned out by the thunderous cheers from downstairs.

You swear you feel Joel smirk against your wetness as you unravel for him.

You’re panting, hands still clinging onto his hair for stability, as he pulls away from your cunt and leans back. He gently rolls your thighs off of his shoulders and helps you to stand, before his tall figure straightens up in front of you.

You instinctively grab his shirt and pull his lips against yours, wanting to taste yourself on his tongue. Joel’s breath hitches when your teeth graze his bottom lip and you pull away, releasing it.

“I fucking love this,” you mutter, and he laughs.

“Yeah? I just missed a whole inning ‘cause of you.”

“Worth it.” You smile as he opens the door, checking the coast is clear before letting you out first.

“Where the hell you two been?” your dad asks as you both rejoin the group.

“Missed one hell of a play, you pair.” Hank raises his glass toward the television.

You sit a little distance from each other on the couch, your needs fully satisfied, and Joel clears his throat.

“Was showin’ her my new six-string.”

You notice him out of the corner of your eye licking his lips. Fucker.

Your dad shakes his head with a laugh, spinning the recliner back to face the screen. “First baseball, now guitars. What has gotten into you, lately, hon?”

“Hey, Joel?” Bill sits forward, leaning over the coffee table to Joel, who lifts his head in reply. “You mind showin’ me that six-string after the game?”

You choke on your beer and Hank’s hand comes up to clap you on the back. “You alright, girl?”

“Maybe, maybe,” Joel replies, trying to ignore you, coughing and spluttering at his side.

With a few more good whacks from Hank and a clean sip of your drink, you recover just enough to join the conversation.

“It’s a really neat guitar, Bill.”

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dom!joel miller #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal #cowboy like me

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sweetgirlcirce · 6 months

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DBF! Simon Riley

I´m having a brainrot about Dad´s best friend Ghost, so i hope you´re hungry cause here it comes

Warnings: Leagal age gap, Dilf and retired Ghost, reader in their early 20´s while Simon is 45, light smut, dry humping, male jack off, pantie stealing, complete pervert Simon

DBF! Simon who loved to help your dad on scaring off your boyfriends. Even tho its for a total different reason, your dad just really wants to protect you, but simon... oh Simon did it because he couldn´t imagine letting some idiot boy you met in collage or at some stupid bar-who couldn´t even satisfy you-touch you, feel you, your soft breasts, the pussy he dreamed about for years, oh no, absolutely not. How could he sleep at night knowing the idiot who couldn´t even make you smile the way he did, was groping and touching what was his, his girl.Oh that made his blood boil every single time

DBF! Simon who always got a little bit too exited by summer breaks, the fact he was able to see you almost everyday? Oh god, he could melt just at the thought of it. And, what he loved almost as much was seeing you, was the fact that with summer breaks also came nothing but bikinis, shorts, little tank tops, gym wear, cute little short night gows, and god, his favorite, summerdresses. Everytime he saw you he swear he could come in his pants, you just looked so perfect, so pretty, laying in the sun with the tiniest bikini he´s ever seen, while your family trows a barbecue, passing trough him in the most slutty shorts, while he trys to watch a football match with your dad, even opening the door for him in a tank top that marked your perky nipples, he swear he was gonna go crazy before you left for collage againg.

DBF! Simon Riley who loved how sweet you always were to him, always greeting him with the prettiest smile at the door when he came over, always bringing him a new cold beer in hot summer days, offering him a massage because you ´knew how tense he could get´, always used the most sweet perfumes ever, always been so so polite to him. He asked himself if you were sweeter as he thought, when fisting his red angry cock thinking about your pretty doe eyes looking at him.

DBF!Simon who feels disguting about having such thoughts with little you, more than ever when he´s at your house for a pool party and gave a shitty excuse about going to the bathroom, only to go upstairs for your room in the end of the hallway, trying to make the least noise as possible, the initial idea was just maybe stealing one of your pretty laced -used- panties to use as a jerk off material later, but when he smells your godly smell all over the room he cant control himself, locking the door behind him, and sliding his shorts and his boxers all together, diving his head between one of your pillows and dryhumping the other, God he feels so dirty, so stupid, like a teenager again, humping your sheets like a dog in heat and groaning loud, he hates himself even more for this, but he cant contol it, cant control himself, he wants you, no, he needs you so so bad. And he feels his end aproaching so fast, his cock getting so sensitive, and when he hears your sweet voice saying a little ´´Simon? Are you there?´´ while knocking in the door, he comes, so hard he feels his legs shake and all the air get knock out of his lung.

#simon riley smut #ghost smut #ghost cod #cod x reader #mw2 #call of duty #john price #simon ghost riley #simon riley

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cinematicgf · 1 year

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After Hours- 18+ dbf!joel

Summary: coming home from college and staying with your dad means that you get to see his attractive best friend, Joel, all the time, from nights in to neighborhood parties. but as the two of you start to see each other regularly when you’re home for college breaks, feelings start to get involved, all leading to one night in a hotel room.

Pairing: (pre-outbreak) dbf!joel miller x afab!reader

Warnings and notes: 18+, smutty smut, minors DNI, dad’s best friend Joel, age gap, fingering, pet names, phone sex, dirty talk, teasing, swearing, reader in uni, drinking, no use of y/n, a little hint of fluff and lots of smut

~ 3.9k

A/N: hey again<3 this was suppose to be a drabble but i got carried away whoops. I hope you guys enjoy this work of dbf!joel smut and as always, your feedback is always welcome so please like, comment and reblog!

ps. I wrote this over a bottle of wine before going to friends place to drink another bottle of wine so apologies if there’s any mistakes. enjoy<3

Oh, baby, where are you now when I need you most?

I'd give it all just to hold you close

The morning sunlight seeps through a crack in the curtain, illuminating the hotel room in a soft glow. Your eyes crack open at the breech of your slumber, as you take in the unfamiliar setting. Usually, in a situation of waking up to unknown territory your heart would skip to your throat and panic would set in, if it weren’t for the warm body and heavy breathing encased close behind you. One large, muscular arm keeping you in place draped over your waist and an all too familiar hint of yesterdays cologne and musk relaxes you into a blissed-out morning attitude. Behind you, of course, is Joel. Joel of contractor and fourth of July barbecue fame in your neighborhood. The man who you had been crushing on since you were a teenager, and now, with your transition into university and spending time apart from your hometown and the residents, coming back meant that you have changed.

You left a naive teenager with a passion for history and came back as a young adult, ready and willing for what life through at you. And no one had noticed this change more than Joel. Taking extra-long glances at you as your back was turned whilst you were studying in the living room, taking peaks at your ass as you bent over to grab yourself a beer from the fridge, oh so kindly provided by your father, and oh god almighty, who could forget the pet names, anything from ‘honey’ to ‘pretty girl’ which, admittedly, use to just be a friendly affirmation of care from the older man, but now sent an electric shock of arousal straight to your core.

There was one slight problem to both of your developing feelings was the Joel was your father’s best friend. Although you and your father were somewhat close, after your mother had decided to bail and your new slutty stepmother had been brought into the mix of your home life, your not-so-subtle feelings of despise toward the woman were apparent. Of course, you wanted your dad to be happy but CMON... did it have to be with Slutty Steph who flirted with quite literally every man who came within a 3-mile radius of the woman?

In your trips back from university to home over the past six months, your “friendship” with Joel had grown into the two of you flirting back and forth with hearty banter which always led to a filthy comment from either of you- (“What would my father think if I told him, you were just checking out my tits, old man” you shot at him with a smirk. “I would simply tell him his darling little girl was wearing these low-cut shirts only when she knew his best friend was coming over”, he retorted, his breath hot in you ear as he brought his hand up to grip your bare waist under your crop top.). Eventually the flirting turned to a sloppy make out sesh one night when your father had gone to bed early and left the two of you with a bottle and a half left of wine. After that night, every time you would come home from university, the two of you would secretly meet up, either to make out and explore each other’s bodies in the back of his truck, or to dip out of a neighborhood get together so he could have your up against a door, blocking anyone’s unwelcomed entry, as he held you with one huge hand under your thighs and another laced your waist, as he whispered the most filthy string of words known to mankind in your ear as you moaned softly as his cock twitched inside you and he fucked up into you at a brutal pace . Eventually, the hand on your waist would have to be brought up to your mouth to cover your moaning as he pushed deeper and deeper into you, the top of his large cock hitting your g-spot at just the right angle, this, accompanied by the leud sounds of slapping thighs and wet noises throwing you over the edge, with his hand still pressed to your mouth as you came, hard, party makeup and mascara running down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and shook in his arms as he fucked you through your high. It wouldn’t take long for his thrusting to get sloppy after you clench around him tight and he would cum deep inside you, holding you still as he stayed in your pussy, muttering praises of, “that’s my sweet girl, god almighty you did so well baby, squeezing me tight like that. Such a good girl for me, always”. This within itself almost made you come again, but soon enough, after he had gone limp and after a few more slow thrusts, the two of your would have to clean yourselves up and go back out to the familiar faces of your neighbors, pretending a man twice your ages and twice your size in height and muscle hadn’t just fucked you so hard against a bedroom door that your knees were now jello and the shirt you had changed into had a higher neckline to avoid suspicious glares at the many bitemarks and hickeys decorating your neck.

Joel, being the most eligible bachelor in the town, or so your high school friends commented one night when you were out smoking in her car on a university break, always had looks from women, mostly his own age, who were so eager to settle down with the respectable, stable (and ever so filthy) man. Sometimes you thought these little neighborhood parties your dad (and Joel too) would insist you come to were just ways that he could find someone and settle down finally. I guess everyone hoped so, or they hoped that they would be the one he would choose. I mean, with his structured face and messy brown curls, his patchy yet groomed beard, muscular arms, giant hands and not to mention the ever-present bulge in his jeans, all the grown woman in the neighborhood would swoon when he entered. He entertained their boring conversations about work and sometimes ever their husbands, but hell, you would never admit to the jealousy it made you feel. Sometimes, after one too many and a boiling of envy in your veins, you would retreat into the house of whichever neighbor had the honors of hosting and lay on the couch so as not to see the women drooling over the guy you were fucking on a regular basis. The one who was so handsome when he got down on his knees between your legs after racing to your fathers house, knowing he was at work. He would kiss and thrust his fingers into your tight hole until you came around them, back arching and moaning so loud you were surprised you didn’t get a noise complaint. The one who, afterwards, would tangle his hands in your hair as he pulled you onto his lap, feeling his achingly hard cock swell against you as your lips collided, sloppy and lovingly, tasting yourself on his tongue. The one who would whisper how sweet you tasted and who always praised you with a “good girl” after taking his cock so deep it would leave you aching for days.

When you were in the house, having the much needed lie down after your subtle (or so you thought) jealous outbreak, it wasn’t long before guess who wanders through the sliding door into the living room, which you’ve occupied. “Sweetheart…”, he drawls in a knowing tone, “Let’s get you to bed”. His voice is low as he leans against the door, one hand placed on his hip while the other rests on his thigh right next to where his jeans look awfully tight. Your jealousy is quickly forgotten in your drunken state, as you feel yourself get slightly wet from his muscular stance and understanding smirk. He noticed your absence and came looking; that’s gotta be something... right? “Why don’t you join me”, you coo, narrowing your eyes and moving your arm slightly to lean on your side, thus emphasizing your breasts in your lowcut shirt. He grins to himself, rubbing his bead as he adjusts his jeans around his crotch. “C’mon, then, bedtime for you”. He steps over. “Weeeeeeeee”, you exclaim as he picks you up bridal style, giggling the whole time. “Are you taking me for round two?”, you giggle, throwing your arms around his neck and looking at him doe eyed. “You”, he gives you a kiss on the forehead once you are both halfway up the stair, “need to sleep it over, sugar”. He puts you down in a room and gently kisses your forehead again, “G’night pretty girl”, he whispers. You smile up at him, drunk and looking with such fascination at the attractive older man. “You’re the pretty one”, you whisper, before he chokes back a laugh and kisses you softly on the lips. “Get some sleep, sweetheart, I’ll check on you tomorrow”.

At first it had just seemed like simple fun. Two grown adults fucking around with each other when you came home from university every few weeks for a break. Despite being your dad’s best friend, Joel spent an ungodly amount of time with you, either when you were staying, and you two fucked in private, or when you were back at university, and you would receive those oh so delicious late night calls of him stroking himself, telling you he had been thinking about you and asking when you were coming home so he could taste how sweet you were again. You were glad your roommate had left earlier in the year, leaving the dorm to yourself, because your moans mixed with Joel’s filthy words of pleasure and praise as you rubbed your clit and eased two fingers inside of you while his hand gripped his cock had you both climaxing at the thought of each other and, to be frank, neither of you were very quiet about it. God, your fingers did nothing compared to having his cock inside you; hell, even his fingers.

“I miss you, doll, when are you back.”

“Joel… I was there last week”, you giggled, breathlessly after you came down from your hig.

“I know, I just miss you is all”, he smiled, rubbing his beard, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot actually, I just wanna make sure that uni is taking care of my sweet girl”.

After a few hours and a knowing of morning sleep deprivation because of the call carrying into the early hour of the dawn, you both hung up. You felt different, you couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of them. That is when you knew that, maybe, you had fucked up a little. It wasn’t just a casual meet and fuck when you were in town anymore. You were both thinking about each other when you were alone and when together, the sparks would fly. But… you couldn’t be in love with your father’s best friend. It was out of the question. Shit… what if he found out? What the hell would he do? You started to overthink and the more you did, you were drawn back to his words, “I miss you” “MY sweet girl”. You decided that you needed to talk to him, fuck it. He would know what to do, and there were only really two options of what could happen. You could tell him your feelings and he could laugh at you and shut it down, maybe even coming to the realization that you were indeed his best friend’s daughter and perhaps this was a bad idea; (despite how fucking incredible you looked when you were straddling him, leaned back a little to take him deeper as you bounced on his cock, riding him so good. He would often come back to that image late at night when he gripped himself and jerked at a rapid pace, pretending he was inside your tight hole). The other option was too exciting to even think about, but you knew it wasn’t exactly ideal… or that he would feel the same. “Sure, he misses you. He misses fucking you, is all”, you speculate to yourself. He is a grown ass man, he has been fucking women since before you were born, what makes you think he is going to want you? A third-year uni student who, may I reiterate, has been his father’s best friend for the better part of roughly seven years. You sigh to yourself as you sit in bed, your textbooks discarded to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry at the inevitable fate of your quick fling with Joel. You decided, fuck it, and sent Joel a text that you needed to talk to him.

And this all had led you here, lying in a hotel room in your university town with your dad’s best friend wedged behind you, naked and fast asleep. Despite your groggy state you think back to yesterday’s events. You had texted him in the morning, throwing your phone aside because of nerves but after the familiar ding a few minutes later, you took a peak and, low and behold, a message from Joel saying he would be there soon. Your nervy state only jumped at this, your uni town was two hours from home, and he was wiling to come today to talk. “Calm down” you told yourself, “It’s not going to go like that”. You laid back down, trying to ease your anxiety, before hopping in the shower to wash off all the unwanted nervousness and brace yourself for tonight. Late notice aside, he had been out front of your dorm by midafternoon, leaning against his truck, sunglasses and a t shirt stretching over the expanse of his chest, tight jeans (thank god for your sunglasses because lord forgive, your eyes immediate go there) and his arms folded. He grins upon seeing you, “There she is”, he chuckled pushing himself up from his truck and untucking his arms to greet you with a strong, warm hug. His cologne fills your senses, making you feel at home again, in his arms. He places a kiss to your forehead, opening the truck door for you as you both speed off away from the uni and through town.

Despite the nerves still kicking in your system, you start to make conversation.

“So, why come all the way down here”, you start, looking at his side profile from the passenger seat and god, if he doesn’t look beautiful. His strong nose and trimmed beard making up the artwork that is his face.

“Because you wanted to see me, sugar”, he replies, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yeah, about that, how long are you staying, because this may take a little bit”. You stare down at your hands, fidgeting slightly in your seat.

“I got a hotel room in town, we can talk all night, doll” he chuckles, glancing at you quickly with a grin before returning his gaze to the road.

God, you wish you didn’t have this weight on your shoulder, you wish you could just get this over with and be tucked up in bed to cry yourself to sleep once his definite answer, that being, of course, that you two should end it, is said and finalized.

Once the two of you arrive at this hotel room it is early evening. The sun is caressing the outskirts of the horizon, flaming the coast, as your heart is rapidly thrumming in your chest. Joel kicks off his shoes and drops heavily on the couch provided by the room and you sit rigid on the arm, not daring to meet his gaze and not being able to utter a word as the nerves, not most insistent, claw at your throat. Joel notices and pushing himself into a sitting position, his thighs push apart of his hand falling between his legs as he watches you, waiting, his brow slightly furrowed as if he knows what is about to happen. Only then do you decide to meet his gaze. Fuck it, lets just get it over with.

“I want to, um, I wanted to talk about us”, you start, meeting his gaze briefly before your eyes return to your palm as your other hand rubs it. “And about what you said on the phone the other night”.

Joel is still looking at you, his brow has furrowed out of slight confusion, or what was that concern… maybe?

“I have found”, you begin again, slowly, not daring to look at him, focusing on a spot on the floor where the carpet meets the linoleum of the kitchen. Perhaps if you just get it all off your chest first without waiting for a response, you’ll feel better. “That I enjoy your company. I mean. Besides the sneaking away and fucking and video calls”, you say slowly. “I enjoy spending time with you at the parties and I find myself getting excited when I get a response from you over text, it’s just… maybe I’m delusional Joel but, I think I’m starting to have feelings. And trust me, I know that wasn’t the deal going into all this, and I know that I’m just a fuck to you and it’s thrilling, having that danger to a relationship, such as sleeping with your best friend’s daughter, but I can’t help it”, you voice is wavering and slightly speeding up to get this all over with quicker. You can feel the sting of tears behind your eyes, but you continue, nevertheless. “So please, just tell me that you don’t want anything now and it can be over with. We can go to those shitty neighborhood parties and talk to each other as if nothing happened but please, Joel, if you don’t want this, tell me now.” A hint of a tear drips down your cheek as you finish your dramatic speech. Your heart is trying to break out of your chest and your hands shake slightly at his awaited response. You still don’t meet his gaze. He is still sitting in the same position, frowning slightly as he takes in your words, before he lets out a heavy sigh. A small tense silence engulfs the room.

“I feel the same”, he says, just barely a whisper. Your head whips around to finally meet his gaze. You look down at him from where you are perched on the side of the couch. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t realize sooner”, he continues, “especially after the call, and what I said to you. When you are gone, I really do miss you, doll, not just the sex, but… you”. He meets you gaze with a tired smile, and you can’t believe your ears. Your towns hottest, most eligible bachelor; the only guy who has made your heart jump like this and, for the record, the only guy who has actually made you come, has reciprocated feelings for you.

You smile lightly at him, “Really?” you choke out through unwanted tears which started at nerve crying turned into happy sobs. He chuckles, reaching his long arm to intertwine your finger with his, “C’mere babygirl”. You push yourself off the arm of the couch and slide into his lap. One hand laces around your waist while the other is on your thigh, holding you steady. His lips meet yours in a closed-mouth kiss. His hand on your waist travels up to tangle in your hair as he inhales a moan from you, using the opportunity to weave his tongue into your mouth, intertwining yours and his in a heated kiss as you grind down on his hardening cock. He pulls away to gaze at your blissed out face, lips swollen and plump, you smile at him through your daze of joy and love for the man in front of you. “My pretty girl”, he says, caressing the back of your hair, bring his hand around to cup your face and running his thumb over your kiss-drunk lips. You kiss the pad of his thumb. “You’re mine, sweetheart, my gorgeous girl”. He uses his thumb to ease open your mouth before reconnecting your lips in a tongue and teeth clashing kiss. “I don’t care if your father finds out”, he says between hot kisses and your uncontrollable light moans, “you’re my girl and that is all that matters to me”. You feel the arousal warming your panties at his words, as he slips his hand from your thigh up your skirt. Feeling how wet you are makes him grin against your lips, “all for me?”, he whispers more so to himself. “All for you”, you confirm, gasping as he slips a finger through your wet folds. Collecting your arousal, he coats his fingers and slips them inside you. Gasping, you grab onto his shoulders for support, as he reconnects your lips with his. You bring your hand up to caress his face, as he pulls your body closer with the hand that’s not inside you. He swallows your moans as you ride his fingers. “Good girl, you’re doing so well for me baby. You’re taking my fingers so well”, he praises, pressing his forehead to yours as you both watch his fingers moving in and out. You feel the coil in your stomach tighten quickly, and you squeeze his fingers. Joel speeds up slightly, your mouth falling open as a string of moans and gasps escape you. “Joel, I’m—I’m gonna “. “That’s its baby, come for me”, Joel whispers, sending you over the edge as your head falls to his shoulders; your teeth meeting the skin there. Your pussy clamps down on his fingers as he continues to move his fingers in and out slowly, riding out your high. When the stimulation gets too much, you bring your hand down to his, moving it out from inside you. You kiss him, ardently, as he brings both muscular arms to engulf you. When you both pull away for air, you notice your bitemark on his should. “Oh shit”, you run your hand over it, “I’m so sorry baby, heat of the moment I guess”, you breathe. He follows your gaze and chuckles, “Sweetheart, I didn’t even feel it”, he assures you, a cheeky, horny look decorating his features, “Besides, I’m sure that’s not going to be the first time tonight”, he chuckles. You roll your eyes, playfully slapping his shoulder as he hoists you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he carries you to the hotel bed, lips nudging that sweet spot behind your ear.

The day, which had started out as unwanted nerves and hopelessness, as you mourned the inevitable death of your relationship with your dad’s best friend Joel, had ended so much better than you had expected. And as you feel asleep with your head on his chest, listening to his shallow breathing as one large hand was tucked around your waist, rubbing circles on your bare skin, you couldn’t help but smile. He was yours. Now and always.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic #ellie williams #joel miller fic #joel miller x afab!reader #∘* ✧･ﾟ ➳ audie writes

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faggot-friday · 9 months

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REASONS I'D BE A GREAT DAD:

my dad just said to me "say goodnight to your mother weirdo" so i responded "goodnight to your mother weirdo" (by default i say this)

dad jokes galore (i've been trained well)

i like fishing and barbecuing (and i could pretend i like beer)

i dress like one (but sluttier) (the slutty bit is optional and removable however)

capable of love

REASONS I'D BE A RUBBISH DAD:

questionable morals (i would pass them on)

i'm not contributing to making that thing if you paid me

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communistkenobi-archive · 3 years

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I think being transhet is very sexy and galaxy brained actually

#misc.txt #barbecue dad but make it slutty #updated my gender but I still love women yes <3 #edit: don’t call me queer on this post! thanks

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flashyfucker · 2 years

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i may or may not be a little too obsessed with dbf!jamie so I have a few questions:

how do the parents find out about their relationship? and how to they react?

I have this image in my head that everyone - literally everyone has a crush on Jamie in their neighbourhood so how would mc deal with women throwing themselves at him, especially when she has to act unbothered and such.

AND IVE SEEN THE BREEDING KINK TAG AND PLEASE ELABORATE ON THAT IM DESPERATE

anon bestie u got me spitballin with this one. nsfw breeding kink talk under the cuttt MORE DBF!JAMIE | gimme ur thoughts/questions! x

HANDLING JEALOUSY: everyone for sure has a crush on jamie. i also imagine jamie was an entire heartbreaker (lil slutty phase?) before he moved into the neighbourhood, so he carries this air of confidence around people interested in him. he’s a flirt in an understated way, polite and gentlemanly to a fault sometimes, so it isn’t surprising when people try their luck with him.

before you start seeing jamie, it’s a little disheartening. there’s a long time where you feel like a stupid kid with a crush and no chance, and here he is, at this barbecue being very publicly propositioned by a beautiful woman closer to his age, and he’s too polite to tell her he’s not interested right away, but you go home too early to see him finally let her down gently (which also means you’re gone before he comes looking for you, having made you up a plate before the best food was gone).

after you start seeing him, though, while it’s a little grating to not be able to walk up and kiss him and put an end to the charade, it’s mostly fun. it’s fun to see him brush off others, knowing he’s all in for you. it’s especially fun when you can scroll down to the album buried deep in your phone and text him a photo from your last time alone together and watch as he opens it and tries to keep a straight face in front of whoever’s talking to him.

YOUR PARENTS FINDING OUT: so part of me wants to write the huge blow up and falling out which would occur if your parents interrupted yall mid-stroke (lmao) and that's how they found out, but more realistically, i feel like it gets to a point where your parents have heard so many rumours, and they've watched you change over the months, going from completely disinterested in jamie to visibly excited and giddy when he's around, they kinda know what's happening, to an extent.

they sit you down alone one night and hit you really seriously with "are you interested in jamie?" and you have to be like.. he's been balls deep inside me so yeah, mom, i'm a little interested (you don’t mention how you've already been seeing him for a solid 2-3 months, what they don't know can't hurt them lmao). they're a bit uncomfortable with the idea but they let it chill for a week or two and then they're realistic about it: you're an adult and jamie isn't that much older than you, it's just a little weird that he knew your dad first, maybe.

eventually your dad pulls jamie aside and is all “you’re clearly into her too: if you break my little girl’s heart, i’ll use your remains as fish bait. also c’mon we’re going to paul’s house down the street, he got a new boat. no, my daughter cannot come.” full son-in-law mode immediately tbh

THE BREEDING KINK THING: it’s definitely this dirty little quiet thing between the pair of you, particularly while your relationship is still a secret. you never really mention it other than in the moment but it makes you feel closer to one another while you can’t be together in public. but also just the visuals.... whew

the very first time you fuck, you beg him desperately to finish inside you, so needy for him in the most whole, most intimate way, and jamie runs with it. neither of you had really known you’d be into it until it happens. it’s the first time you properly learn how filthy his mouth can be, when he pauses, overwhelmingly deep inside you and he grabs your face so you’re eye to eye with him and he smiles nearly mockingly as he asks “you’re gonna let me fill this pretty cunt, are you? is that what you want?” and you’re so fucked out you’re nearly in tears, borderline babbling as you plead for his load but he won’t finish until you give him a coherent answer describing how badly you need his cum inside you and like i said, visuals are so hot, he for sure takes pictures of it leaking out. maybe those are the pics you send to him when other women are hitting on him in public 😇

#im writing a longer more polished piece for this au but i LOVE these questions so much #thank u for letting me talk through my HCs im literally obsessed with it #dbf!jamie #jamie oleksiak imagine #jamie oleksiak fanfiction #ff.doc #long post

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chthonicillness · 5 years

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lesbian & bi girl style is like:

denim on denim

tank top. shorts. sandals. done.

the most wildly extravagant shit u can think of, but dug out of a bargain bin

intentionally clashing patterns

goth but sort of lazy about it

barbecue dad but make it slutty

#this is an abridged selection i could not hope to write a comprehensive guide #personally i am lazy goth and discount extravagance in cold weather #and slutty bbq dad all summer

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daethsticks · 3 years

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3 things: what is your gender 👀 (weird abstract terms & concepts used to describe your gender are strongly encourage), favorite moment from the Shrek films, what critter would be your daemon in His Dark Materials land

1. atm it’s a mix between the old dial-up internet noise and Dad at a Barbecue but Make It Slutty

2. God it’s hard to pick just one, but the wedding scene at the end of the first one where Fiona says “I’m meant to be beautiful” and Shrek replies “but you are beautiful” makes me go CRAZY

3. I have not read/seen His Dark Materials, but probably some kind of lizard or reptile

anonymously message me (3) things you want to know about me.

#ty anon!#answered #anonymous #ask game

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mattiprongs · 5 years

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lesbian & bi girl style part 2: barbecue dad but make it slutty

marlene mckinnon x dorcas meadowes _______

inspiration post

@cheapenigma

#lesbian & bi girl style #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #dorlene #marauders era #hp rp #hp rp community #my collab #queue neighbourhood

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dailydamara · 5 years

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Barbecue dad but like make it slutty

#alpha trolls #damara #damara megido #homestuck #trolls #this outfit slaps though i want it

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v-as-in-victor · 4 years

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Barbecue dad but make it slutty - I’m doing my best here.

#fat fashion #queer fashion #selfie

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expertinadyingfield · 4 years

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21, 32, and 49 :)

21. what’s your favorite dish to cook?

tbh the first thing i think of is kimchi pancakes, but if we’re including baking then i definitely love making meringues and chocolate chip cookies :D

32. what’s your favorite weather?

if i’m going out then i love sunny weather that’s cold enough so i can wear flannel but hot enough so i can wear shorts. however, if i’m staying in i love rainstorms!

49. describe your aesthetic.

god this is gonna sound so convoluted but i’m like,,,,,, the midpoint between slutty barbecue dad and rich ceo vibes combined with vaporwave and pastel aesthetic

thanks for the ask!

#ask #ask meme #and-david

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rebinghostface · 5 years

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son in heaven

on ao3

Neil reflects.

Neil Hargrove knows he is a hard man. Maybe too hard, in retrospect. Too rough on a son who didn’t know how to handle what he was born as. He could’ve - should’ve - done better. It wouldn’t have been very hard to. Still, he’s a hard man. Something he thinks he was just born as.

He married Doreen Voecks on a very hot summer morning. It was a cheap, small wedding held at Doreen’s church. She was Catholic, though her family and Neil’s were Lutheran. He still isn’t sure how that happened, but it did. She was a college grad and so, so smart. Fiery. Not a timid woman, like his dad always said he should have.

Maybe he should’ve married a different woman, because their marriage was failed from the start.

Doreen liked drugs. Hard stuff. Cocaine and heroin, shit that left marks on his skin. She never kept a job for long, even if her Stanford degree and smile always was shiny enough to score one easy.

No one wanted to hire a Vietnam vet with no high school diploma. He had to go back, take classes. It took a while before he could support just the two of them right.

They had their first son at a hospital and Neil remembers getting the bill. He had to borrow money from his father to afford Billy Hargrove’s entrance into the world.

Billy was a small baby. Neil couldn’t keep Doreen off very much during the pregnancy.

He gets a job as a security guard under a private firm. He’s sent to high end banks, celebrity bashes, the sort. He gets a raise after six months. It’s enough to finally start saving. He moves them to the suburbs.

Doreen doesn’t fit in with the suburban moms. Neil does with the dads. They all work hard. His hours are odd, but he always finds himself at the weekend barbecues.

His son is a star in the suburbs. The baby boy with curly blond hair and bright boy eyes. He has women ready to die for him before he can even talk.

Neil loves his son.

Doreen is possessive. She tries to keep Billy inside. They fight when it’s time for Billy to start going to daycare, so Doreen can work.

“Maybe I shouldn’t work. I don’t trust leaving Billy with strangers.” She says.

Neil is making enough. He agrees, even if I does make it a bit harder.

They have to be careful in bed, now, because Neil is insistent that they don’t have anymore children. It makes Doreen mad. She won’t listen to him trying to explain their money problems.

They fight. A lot. Neil becomes harder. He lays down rules. Otherwise, she’d let Billy run wild.

Billy is a sensitive boy. He runs away when he’s yelled at. He always quits after a couple weeks. Neil starts making him stay and pursue even when he gives up, until Billy likes it or at least starts pretending to.

Doreen hates it.

“He should be home with me.” She says.

Neil just ignores her. She yells at him. He yells back. How many times have they done this? When she pushes him, he pushes back.

Every bruise he gives her, he gets one back. She throws plates and vases. She stabs the wall with knives. She screams so loud the neighbors call the cops. He has keys hanging out of his forehead when they drag her away.

She blames him. She tells Billy terrible things.

Neil gets harder.

Doreen leaves him when she snaps at him and he backhands her. She leaves Billy behind.

Neil gets even harder.

He slaps. He breaks Billy’s arm. He spits insults and spits even more when Billy cries. He buys Billy his first car.

History is as is.

Neil tried not to think about it sometimes. But he does, when he sits in his son’s bedroom.

It’s been three months since he was told his son died.

Billy had been acting strange for a little while. Chemicals, something, weird things. Like a government conspiracy. Neil thinks about Vietnam and the things that he’s never supposed to say he did. He knows what the government is capable of.

Neil didn’t cry when Doreen left him.

He cries every night in his son’s bedroom.

He wonders if he’d been softer, if he’d been more forgiving, Billy would’ve been home instead of running off. Rebelling. Maybe Billy was just a sensitive boy. Maybe he wasn’t a fag, just sensitive.

Neil sometimes dares to think he wouldn’t care if it meant his son would he back blasting that terrible music and doing stupid, stupid things.

Susan asks about cleaning out Billy’s room one night, when Neil comes back from it.

“No.” He says.

She tries to press.

Neil’s jaw clenches. She gets too close. He swings his hand and she falls into the wall. She cries. Neil sleeps on the couch.

He thinks about his son, still. Staring up at the ceiling.

He misses him.

Billy Hargrove is buried in the Hawkins City Cemetery. Neil visits him every Monday night. He drops off a new batch of flowers. Wipes the headstone clean. He sits down, on the grass, in front of it and stares.

He wonders about what his son could've been.

Billy was amazing at whatever he put his mind to. Basketball, especially. But also swimming. Flirting. Neil used to be grateful his son hadn't knocked up some whore. He now wishes Billy did. At least there'd be something of Billy left behind for him to have.

He lights a cigarette and looks up at the sky. He used to smack cigarettes out of Billy's hand. Now he's smoking the same brand.

The smell brings forth a lot of memories. Billy's bedroom doesn't even smell like it anymore.

The grass is grown over the lot the first time Neil finds someone else at Billy's grave.

It's around Thanksgiving time. He took the holiday week off so he could take Susan and Max back to California. Max is going to visit her dad. Neil didn't used to want that. Now he thinks about losing Billy and feels guilty about taking Max away.

He's caused too much pain already. He's tired of causing it.

When Billy was fourteen, Neil punched him hard enough to knock him unconscious. He lied to the nurse at the hospital about it, but he wanted to make sure Billy was okay. A few months later, Neil hit him too hard again. Frontal lobe damage. It took a while for Billy to recover. He had seizures, for a little while, but he got better fast. He was a strong boy.

Neil blames himself. Billy would've been a better kid, he thinks, if he hadn't knocked Billy around so much. He drove Billy away, right into that bad music. Into the parties and the slutty girls and the classic bad boys.

Billy was smart. He could've been something so much better.

The first person he sees at Billy's outside of his reflection in the headstone is a strange teenage girl. Reminds him vaguely of Billy, the way she's looking out in the world. Like it did her so wrong, like it sickens her to look at it sometimes.

"Ma'am." Neil greets.

She looks away from the headstone and stares at him. She points and says, "Bad papa. Your fault Billy was alone."

Neil looks at her. He doesn't know how she knows anything about him. "Billy wasn't alone." He grits out. "He had me."

"No he didn't." She says. When she walks by, she shoves her shoulder into him.

He doesn't have it in him to retaliate in any way, in front of Billy's grave.

Neil just sits down and lights a cigarette like he always does. Billy did have him, he thinks. Even if he was too rough, sometimes, Billy had to known that Neil loved him. Loves him. Billy had to have known.

#billy hargrove #neil hargrove #stranger things #drabble #writing #eleven #jane hopper #promoting now because i forgot lmao

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