an innocent favor / dbf! joel miller x fem! reader
summary: you promised your dad you’d keep his friend company.
content warnings: age gap ( reader is in her mid 20s and Joel is in his early 40s, mutual masturbation, penetration, no outbreak, multiple orgasms, long one shot.
— now playing! ♫ like a tattoo by sade —
It was a cold Autumn morning, with the kind of weather that made you wake up earlier than you should. The reason why you stood out on your porch, watching the leaves fall. Definitely not looking across to your neighbor’s house and watching the lights shine through a particular room. The shadow of your dad’s friend in the window.
The same man who came over for dinner every once in a while, gave you a ride when you needed it— the tall, handsome, brooding old man.
Your dad and him go way back. There’s hundred stories you’ve heard of him through your father, but it wasn’t until your first year of college when you officially met him; the day you moved across the street from him and his daughter Sarah.
The same day your dad made you bring them something homemade to make a good impression, and so you did. Cinnamon cookies to be exact, which earned you your first smile from Joel.
Now you were done with school. Back in your hometown, sitting outside your house contemplating giving him the pumpkin bread you made for him. The one sitting on your counter, with a note carefully placed on the top on the box, saying Happy Halloween.
You’d bake every dessert in the world if it meant seeing him smile.
You were nervous to see him, or perhaps you were nervous about being back home. It was a surprise, even to yourself. You didn’t know why you came back. No one expected you to return so soon. Especially since you had a job with a beautiful apartment and friends you called family. You had a different life in another city.
Your impulsiveness made you feel crazy and all you could do was think. You had been in town for two days and you hadn’t been out of the house. All you could fixate on was Joel. No matter where your thoughts went it would always come to him. You wondered how the years treated him, probably really fucking good. Would he be excited to know you were back home? Is he still single? It was all you could think about.
Although you couldn’t blame your stress baking on just that. It was the unforeseen day planned by your father. He told you to help Joel give candy away to the neighboring kids. You and him, in his house — alone together.
He said Sarah was gone for the night, at a party or something. And It was his second Halloween being alone, not doing anything. No pumpkins being carved, no candy, no costume. Your dad said it would be good for him to have company for once.
That meant a night with him talking to you with that southern drawl, probably about some movie — making your fucking head spin.
You let out a soft breath into the cold air, hugging your arms tight. Forcing yourself to stop looking and head back inside your house.
The smell of coffee made your body relax. You thank god you’re home alone today, usually the opportunity doesn’t come to you this early in the morning. Your roommate doesn’t appreciate cooking at 6 am.
So breakfast is loud today. The usual silence now filled with soft jazz and the sounds of your dad’s old coffee maker. You make something quick and stupidly festive: scrambled eggs, a cinnamon bagel with cream cheese and, a pumpkin cold brew.
The moment’s quaint, as you sit down and eat. Practically melting into the seat when the food hits your mouth.
About two minutes into your bliss you hear a small knock on your door. You swallow slow and get up to carefully check the window.
A curse slips from your mouth and suddenly you’re wiping your mouth clean and running a hand over your hair. He definitely saw you on the porch looking for him like a total weirdo. Now he’d come to tell you off or something.
Fuck, this was the first time you’d talk to him since you left.
When you open the door he quips his head up, a sharp smile lining his face. His hair is disheveled from sleep, he’s still in his pajamas, a gray shirt with plaid baggy sweatpants. If you weren’t so embarrassed you’d probably stare at him longer.
“Mornin’” he says and your knees threaten to buckle, his voice is deeper than you remember.
“Hey.” You blink, “Good morning.”
His eyes follow behind you with curiosity. “Smells good.”
“Just breakfast.” You say, standing awkwardly.
He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. You stare at him waiting for a response. Realization creeps in your mind and you quickly wave him in.
He smiles again, walking inside your home. “Been awhile. How’s everything? How are you?”
You turn to him, straightening up, “I’m great, I’m good. Just been busy looking for jobs, you know.”
He doesn’t say anything, he just nods.
“She’s fine—started college this year. Makes me feel fuckin’ old.” He grumbles.
You laugh softly, “Who says that’s not a good thing?”
“Me.” He says, walking forward.
You follow, stifling back a remark.
“Festive.” He points around and you cringe with a smile.
There’s decorations lining your living room: jack-o’-lantern’s, paper witches, mini ghosts. Your dad’s old stuff from when you were a kid. A welcome present to you.
“No, it’s nice.” He drawls, “Your dad’s idea?”
You nod, “It was his surprise for me.” You say, “He’s a little too excited i’m back home.”
“You got that right.” He sits down on a kitchen chair, “How long you stayin’?”
“Just a week or two for now, i’m not sure yet.” You reply watching him cross his arms. That was a lie.
“Not sure?” He asks and you nod.
There’s hesitation when you answer, “It’s a long story, I just don’t think I really can. With my current job and shit, you know.”
“Right.” For a moment you think he looks disappointed.
You walk around, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. Joel follows you with his eyes, you can feel it. And once you place it in front of him he takes a breath, speaking again, “Sorry for botherin’ you this early in the mornin’.”
You shake your head, “No, it’s fine.”
“I just saw you were up.” He pointed towards your porch, “Figured I come to talk to you about tonight.”
“Oh. Tonight.” You repeat.
“Your dad offered, I told him you’d be better off having’ fun...” He says, “Somewhere else.”
You begin to say something but he cuts you off almost immediately.
“You don’t have to come over.”
You laugh, nervously, “I want to.”
He sighs, a low and steady sigh before asking, “You want to?”
“Yeah, It’ll be fun.” You say now with confidence, “We can watch movies, eat a shit load of candy.”
He shakes his head with a grin.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re uninviting me Joel Miller?” You say lowly, sarcasm eating at your words. “Thought you were a gentleman.”
“Jesus, I’m not uninviting you.” He groans, smiling up at you. “Just askin’ that’s all.”
You reach over and take a bite of your bagel, staring back at him. Then you get up and look at the pumpkin bread on the counter.
He quickly turns away, clearing his throat.
“I made you something.” You say, carefully sliding the container over to him. “It’s pumpkin. Didn’t know if you liked it. Just took a guess.”
And then he smiles, that same smile you remember from years ago.
He mumbles your name before picking up the note stuck to the side. Reading it out loud.
“You’re too nice for me.” He says.
God that sounds good coming from him.
“Just being neighborly that’s all.” You reply.
He gets up with the container in his hands. “Your boyfriend— he must have a sweet tooth.”
You swallow hard; the question catching you off guard.
He nods slowly, walking towards your door. “See you at five? My place.”
When your dad gets home from work it’s around three. Kids are already ringing your door demanding candy. You’ve showered, done your hair, cleaned up a bit.
He’s teasing you, trying to get you in a costume but you refuse. Especially since his options are three dusty ones from the attic. No way you’re showing up to Joel’s with a lady bug costume from when you were sixteen.
If you were, you’d be laying in his bed the moment you got home. But you’re not, you’re his best friend’s daughter. Doing him a simple and innocent favor.
“No funny shit tonight.” Your dad says and it snaps you from your thoughts.
You stare at him stupidly.
“Be nice to him. Talk to him. Don’t y’know—” He mimics texting with his hands.
“What am I fifteen?” You ask.
“No.” He replies, grabbing a pirate hat, one matching his costume. “But I’m serious…”
“I will be very nice.” You cross your arms. “You look ridiculous by the way.”
He spins a bit and you laugh.
“Alright, you look great. Go, you’ll be late.”
Your dad gives you a look of— I told you, and quickly grabs his keys.
“Have fun and be safe.” You say and his eyebrows furrow.
“You sound like my dad.” He points.
He gives you a quick hug before he leaves. You know he won’t be home until midnight, or later.
You grab your phone from your pocket, checking the time. Three-thirty. Your palms begin to sweat. You could lie to yourself and pretend you don’t know why you’re nervous but you do know. A part of you wishes you were meeting Joel under different circumstances.
But you shake the idea out of your head, instead you go upstairs to change. There’s plenty of clothes already in your suitcase but you curiously move to your closet.
It’s the same from what you remember. Like a time capsule. Clothes you wore to parties from high school and dinners with your family. You smile a bit, nostalgia hitting you like a brick. You run a hand through the hangers— a light dust cloud painting the air.
You stop on a certain piece. It’s a summer dress. Your favorite one. Cream, relatively short with lace trimmings on the bust. Little purple flowers and green vines all over.
If it weren’t so cold you’d wear it. Probably with some boots. You wonder if Joel would like it.
Instead you pick out a cute denim skirt from a drawer. Some black stockings, black boots, and a flowy orange shirt.
You do your makeup, simple but effective. You put a clip in your hair and stare at yourself in the mirror. You try and sigh the pit in your stomach away. It doesn’t budge. It grows and your fate doesn’t change. You check your phone again, four-thirty. You’re early but maybe he needs help setting things up?
You hadn’t been in his house in awhile, It’s no different from the other times you suppose but this time it certain feels different.
So, you grab your bag and sprit as much perfume on yourself as you can before you choke. Do one last mirror check and walk downstairs.
There’s a bag full of candy on the counter, placed by your dad just in case you run out. You stuff it in your bag, shut off the lights and leave your house.
It’s cold— there’s kids yelling and running. You’re whispering fuck a million times under your breath as you make the walk up to his place.
After a minute, the porch light comes on and he opens the door.
He’s there. He’s handsome, wearing a green plaid button up with jeans that almost make your eyes wander. His hair is kept and you can smell his cologne almost immediately. It mixes well with his usual scent of wood and whiskey.
His voice is velvety, deep and soft. He lets you in.
“Sorry i’m a bit early.” You say, watching him walk to the kitchen.
“Eager to see me?” He jokes.
“Ha, funny.” You say, following him. He grabs a bowl, next to a big bag of candy.
You study the room, it’s not messy but also not clean. A kind of rowdiness you expect from a man his age with a teenage daughter. A couple mugs in the sink with coffee residue, envelopes filling the dining table, looks like some bills and newspapers. There’s some bracelets and earrings spread out too, definitely Sarah’s… Hopefully Sarah’s
He grunts in embarrassment, “Sorry for the mess.”
You shake your head, “No I like it, it’s homey.”
“Homey.” He repeats. “You’re weird.”
You roll your eyes, “Yeah.”
A muttered laugh escapes his lips. He dumps the bag in the orange bowl and looks up at you again.
“You look pretty by the way.” He says.
You avoid making eye contact and turn towards the hallway. You take a few curious steps and look at the frames hung on the walls. Most of them are pictures of Sarah but one is of him and Tommy— his brother.
A low hum comes out from your mouth and you run a hand on the frame. You have to squint but, Joel looks younger, he smiling real big and you can tell the picture hasn’t been dusted in years.
You hear footsteps behind you. You don’t look away though. Instead you’re prepared to ask him a million questions.
He knows this. So he answers first.
“I think I was about twenty three, maybe twenty four.” He says, “It was right after Tommy graduated high school.”
They look so content, with an arm over each other’s shoulders and a young Sarah wrapped around her father’s leg.
You smile watching his face light up as he stares at the picture.
“You were happy.” You whisper, putting an unknowing emphasis on were.
He grunts a bit before putting a hand on his hip. His mind tries reaching for the right words. He looks over to you and gives you a small nudge with his shoulder.
“I’m not always grumpy you know.” He jokes.
You laugh, “You’re lucky you have proof.”
You walk down the hallway and into his living room, you look at it like it’s a memory, like it’s ripped straight out from your head. You look at the couch, one side is dipped down, almost melted into the shape of Joel. The table right in front of it is covered in rings of coffee stains and worn down from years of kicking his feet back onto it. The space is so him, it drives you crazy.
“You said movies.” He begins, “Problem is, dunno what you like.”
He points to a shelf on the wall and scratches his head nervously, “Sarah told me you’d like those.”
You wander over and look through the stack of scary movies. It’s got all the ones you and her watched when you would babysit: Halloween, The Ring, Scream. The list goes on.
“I hope you’ve seen at least one of these Joel.”
He shrugs, “There’s that killer guy in one of them right? And the girl comes out alive.”
You nod, “Basically yeah, that happens in most of them.”
He grunts, “See, my old ass knows.”
“Only because they’re all predictable.”
He walks to turn the dvd player on and watches as you run your fingers through each movie.
You look over to him as his back is rested on the wall.
“I’m debating whether Final Destination or Saw will give you nightmares.”
There’s a small pause before you make up your mind, “Fuck it, I’m picking Final Destination.”
You pop the disc out and put it in the player. You move to the couch with a sigh and sink right into it.
Joel lingers, with his eyes stuck on the screen as the previews begin to play.
“Quit being a dad, sit down.” You say.
“Can’t, gotta get the popcorn.”
You can hear him softly laugh as he makes his way back into the kitchen.
It such a domestic feeling, being with Joel like this. It’s so simple but, you like seeing him laugh at your stupid jokes. The coziness of his place, and how relaxed he looks.
He comes back a couple minutes later just as the disc menu comes on. He sets the bowl down with two beers next to it. He sits down and it’s in his usual spot, you can practically feel him relax his whole body.
It’s mostly quiet throughout the movie, occasionally Joel asks a question or two but the rest is silence. You’ve both gotten up to give out candy a couple times. By the end of the movie you’ve eaten all the popcorn and made your way through three beers.
Suddenly, Joel says something and it makes your body tense up.
“Do you like it over there?”
The question lingers in the air, it’s so sudden and his voice is quiet.
You pause, looking at him. “California? Yeah, It’s nice.”
He nods, trying his best to keep his eyes on the movie and not on you.
“Your dad said you’d be stayin’ for a while.” He confesses.
You wished the volume of the tv wasn’t so quiet. You could hear every part of his deep voice seeping through the silence.
“He told me you were movin’ back home.”
He knew you were lying earlier.
“Yeah, that’s what he wants.” You reply to him, your words coming out burdened. You didn’t want to talk about being homesick, or about your life away from Texas. You didn’t know why.
Finally, he turns to you.
“What do you want?” He asks, his words are gentle.
“I don’t know.” You answer slowly.
You want him. You can’t tell him that, but it’s the underlying reason why you’re begging yourself to stay. You miss home, you miss your dad and part of you can deny it but, you miss Joel.
It’s wrong but in the moment you wonder what his lips feel like. You find yourself staring and hope he doesn’t notice. But he does and suddenly you’re too close to him.
Your movements are aren’t calculated, just needy. You drink up his scent, it makes you want to sink into his chest. You don’t know what comes over you, maybe it’s the raw tension or the beers in your system but you do it. You kiss him.
His lips are surprisingly soft and you’re scared to move. You wish you could run your fingers through his curls or feel his rough hands on your face. You’re scared he’ll realize who he’s kissing, that you’re messing everything up. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead he pulls you in. You can feel his grip and it’s rough as he grabs at your waist and back.
You feel bold so you slip your tongue into his mouth and he groans, pulling you into his lap. You whine, feeling him. You can feel him growing and it makes you want to rip your clothes off.
He pulls away for what you think is air but the look in his eyes makes you hesitate.
“I— fuck.. sorry.” He pants.
He grabs your arms, pulling them away and he tries to get up.
You shake your head, “Don’t be.”
“Don’t be sorry.” You repeat.
A sigh comes out from his mouth and you can see him clench his jaw.
“I’ll stop if you tell me to.” You say, “Fuck. I swear, I will Joel.”
You’re desperate, you can’t even hide it. You grab his hand and place it on your chest.
“I can’t keep pretending.” You breathe out. “I can’t.”
His eyes furrow in confusion.
You bring his hand down, trailing it along your stomach.
Joel lets out a pained grunt and lets his free hand grab onto your ass. Your next sentence catches in your throat and he whispers something under his breath.
He moves his hand onto your face and fixes a strand of your hair back in its place.
“You want this?” His accent is thick.
You nod. He does the opposite.
“Need you to say it baby.”
Your head spins, you can’t even remember your own name with the way he’s holding you. The way his voice drawls and calls to you.
“Yes.” You reply, “So fuckin’ bad.”
His eyes follow your every move, exploring how your mouth opens slightly when he traces his fingers down your neck.
He doesn’t say anything. He just waits.
He waits until you move his hand down into your unbuttoned skirt. And when his fingers touch you, you squirm. You’re far too wet than usual.
You moan into the air and your eyes threaten to shut. For a second you’re confused, and to be honest you’re angry. He’s still not moving.
“Joel.” You huff out, gripping onto his arm.
“It’s okay.” He whispers, “Move for me.”
You swallow, hard. But you obey. You buckle under him.
This time it’s him who moans. A soft but guttural noise that sends chills down your spine.
“So fuckin’ wet.” He groans. “So perfect.”
Joel looks drunk on you, watching as you grind desperately for his fingers. It’s intoxicating, you beg for some sort of indication that this is real. That it’s not just another dream, the ones you hide embarrassingly deep into your mind.
Except it’s real. You know it because it feels too good.
“Don’t hold back, S’ okay.” He says.
It’s almost too much, you can barely grip onto him anymore. You can’t control your body.
“Can’t— fuck. Need you.” You whine, incoherently. “Too good.”
He looks pained, your noises are piercing enough for him to speak up.
You nod, fighting the urge to beg him to fuck you.
“So sensitive,” His hand grabs your head, making you look at him. “Fuck, you’re dripping.”
“Never, usually— this wet.” You manage to reply.
You wonder if you should’ve kept that to yourself because his eyes turn dark. His fingers twitch and slip in you and you moan.
“Fuck— they, don’t feel like you.”
“They don’t treat me right.”
Joel hums, he’s pissed. You’re not even trying to tease him, you’re just telling the truth. The guys you’ve slept with back in California couldn’t compare, and all you know is his fingers.
“What a fuckin’ shame.” He says, curving his fingers deep inside you.
He hasn’t even started to properly move and you’re already on the edge. You’re a little embarrassed because you know he can tell.
“How many times have you touched yourself, thinkin’ of me?”
Your cheeks flush. It’s a filthy question. You’re a little ashamed to answer, but there’s a pit of arousal deep in your core. You can’t lie to him, even if you tried.
“Don’t look at me like that baby.” He breathes out. “Answer me.”
His voice is deep— dark and sinful.
You stutter but nothing comes up and he starts thrusting his fingers into you without warning. You slur against him, not wanting to finish so soon.
“Too many fuckin’ times.” You finally mumble, “Waking up soaked thinkin’ of you. Couldn’t help it.”
He smiles, watching you unfurl. And he slips out of you. Your words don’t make sentences, just whines from confusion.
“Gonna take real good care of you.” He says. “Treat you right.”
Joel lifts you from his lap and onto his chest as he stands up. You tangle your legs around his waist, breathing hard.
He leads you into his room. You feel out of place, it makes you think of the times you’ve peeked inside from curiosity. Back when you would babysit Sarah. But that feeling disappears when he hovers over the bed to lay you down. When he starts kissing your neck and you realize he almost just made you cum.
The thought of him yearning for this just as you have, makes you shiver.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna stop?” He says softly against your skin. “If this is too much..”
You shake your head too much if you’re honest.
He sighs almost smiling, “Words baby.”
“Don’t. Don’t stop.” You struggle, “I— fuck.. need you.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just does.
He starts by taking your shirt off, and he moves to slip your skirt down and out of the way. You grab his own shirt and begin to unbutton it as fast as you can.
“Too many buttons, shit.” You grunt and he laughs.
His body’s toned but not ripped. A real fucking dad bod. Your eyes dip down and stare a little too long.
Joel wastes no time, he kisses your stomach— every inch of exposed skin but stops at your underwear. It’s peaking underneath your stockings.
You hear his low groan beneath you, not before it’s interrupted by the sudden rip of the black fabric. You gasp, picking your head up. He ripped the entire thing off of you.
“Fuck it, I’ll buy you a new pair.”
You would be upset but you’re so turned on you don’t even care. You just grab his face, lead his lips to your underwear, trying to give him a sign.
He knows what to do. He grabs the lace with his teeth, pulling it slowly, down to your thighs. He spends a couple seconds running his hands throughout your body, kissing at the places he missed.
You fiddle with his jeans trying to get them off and you’re successful. He kicks them on the floor, along with his boxers. The hand that was once placed perfectly on your neck is now on his cock. You watch in bliss as he jerks off. He’s perfect. Moaning out like you own him.
His other hand grabs onto your bra, squeezing your boobs through it. You reach behind with your fingers to quickly clip it off.
It doesn’t even occur to you that you’re entirely naked in front of Joel miller.
“Gonna make you mine.” He slurs.
You don’t reply, you can’t. All that comes out of your mouth is a needy whine. Especially when you feel him position himself in your entrance. You need him to fuck you, you’re desperate for him to.
He pushes himself slightly deeper and you grab the first thing you can: his arm.
It takes him a couple seconds to adjust but he doesn’t dare move. He just stares into your eyes, waiting for you. You take a couple breathes before you nod. He starts agonizingly slow. You don’t know if he’s teasing you but it works nonetheless.
Joel’s heavy moans fill your ears, it doesn’t help the growing orgasm you left unattended. You feel his callused hands palm your breasts and it’s heaven.
“S’ fuckin’ good girl.” He mumbles. “Good girl.”
He looses his steady pace once you clench around him, he speeds up. He hits something deep inside you and you yell. A loud yelp resembling his name. He keeps going, unaware of how close you really are. You don’t complain. You can’t get enough.
His words are incoherent, just as yours are. They’re full of praise and hunger as he fucks you senseless. He fills you up just right, so right it makes you want to cry.
Cry from pain, yes— he’s fucking big. But also because you never thought Joel could ever want you, not as much as you wanted him.
“S’ so good.” You say, and you repeat it over and over again until the sentence falls apart in your throat. When he makes you cum.
The sound is dirty, a grunt you didn’t know you were capable of making. He grabs your waist, pushing his thumbs into them until you arch back, unable to hold on.
He doesn’t stop, instead he slows down again.
You don’t think you’ve ever came this fast, or at all even, before him.
There’s a pained feeling when he slips out of you, you almost claw onto him when he does. He grabs his dick again, pumping himself slow.
“You— you didn’t cum.” You tell him.
He shakes his head, “Not yet sweet girl.”
You don’t know what he’s planning because he’s suddenly on his knees, in between your legs, stroking himself. The same feeling from before is back and stronger.
“Want you to touch yourself.” He says, “Show me.”
Your chest moves rapidly and it’s hard to keep your legs apart. You don’t want your fingers, you want his. You do it anyways, he’s watching, that fills the void. You move a hand down and on yourself, rubbing small circles. You’re still throbbing from your last orgasm and it doesn’t take long before you start slurring your words again.
He guides you through your movements. Taking your hand when you accidentally speed up too much. The sounds of his hands— slick with your cum, doesn’t help.
“Keep your legs open.” He grunts and he fixes your legs apart with his free hand.
“You’re gonna cum for me again.”
You gasp and it almost sounds like a whine. You know he’s close by the way he grips onto your body with desperation. He’s fisting his cock with no other intention but to cum hard on you. To watch you come undone with him. He needs it.
You stick a couple fingers inside yourself and struggle to hit the spot he did. It doesn’t matter because he looks so hot it sends you over and you scream into the air.
His moans turns into a deep hum as he cums with you, all over your thighs.
He mumbles a lot of words you don’t hear, you’re too busy breathing into a pillow, your body’s weak and unable to move. You don’t notice his absence when he grabs a towel from the bathroom. He gently cleans you up and tucks you in perfectly with him.
It’s far too late, you’ve ignored his doorbell too many times. By the time Joel Miller finishes fucking you it’s not Halloween anymore.
“Never letting you go.” He whispers.
And you fall asleep in Joel’s bed, naked and next to him.
