sel✮

writing nonsense.

[thinkinonsense]

sel, twenty-three, she/her, queer

masterlist⟡

ao3⟡

[thinkinonsense]

-cravings.

cw: feral!logan, breeding kink, pervy!logan, marking, TA/ co-workers relationship, belly bulge, oral (fem receiving), gross!logan, squirting, male masturbation, spitting, slight praise kink, slight hair tugging, pet names, slightly grinding on abs? pantie play?

summary: logan's in a rut and only his sweet girl can help him.

a/n: so i pictured dofp!logan but x trilogy!logan also works! hope you enjoy <3 also also not proof read so sorry for any errors

"scott, have you seen logan?" your delicate voice fills the study as you pass by, looking for your mentor.

logan has been missing all day, which isn't the most unusual thing but it is odd that he said he would train with you today and yet, he's nowhere to be found.

"charles said he wasn't feeling well." scott replied, barely gazing up at you. "he's probably still in bed."

you nod, turning around to head upstairs and check on logan like any good friend would.

the floorboards creek under your light foot steps down the hall. charles, hank, and storm took the kids to a lab overnight to work on their final projects. the rest of the adult were either training or lesson planning. the wooden door glowed with golden light illuminating the rim, so warm and welcoming.

one knock turned into three and four. all of them unanswered, leaving you slightly alarmed. this wasn't like logan to ignore you.

❀༉‧₊˚

meanwhile, beyond the wooden door, logan sat on his bed trying to get a grip on this feeling. it's happened before, the familiar warmth that spreads all over. a primal craving attempting to claw its way out of him.

normally, he can hide out until the rut is over but now it is different. now logan has his eyes on someone. not just someone though.

it's the girl he's been warned not to fall for. charles, jean, hank and scott have all told logan that he's not to make a move on you. the girl who's too pure for a big bad wolf like him. for once, he listened and steered clear of you, no matter how pretty you were.

until you signed up to be his teachers assistant.

now with the close proximity, logan is tortured by your scent. the sweet cherry he's become familiar with haunts his deepest thoughts. he could perfectly trace every outline on your body without even trying. honestly, he found it quite sickening how you've carved your spot in his mind.

next to him on the mattress are a pair of your panties from yesterday. he remembered seeing the slight flash of light blue from under your skirt when you dropped your pen in the hallway. there's a damp patch on them, calling his name in mocking tones.

"logan..?" your meek voice was barely audible behind the door. "can i please come in?"

a low growl hums in his chest at the sound of your voice. he wants nothing more than to let you inside and ravish you in the way he desires; but he doesn't want to scare you off.

"not now, sweetheart." he grunts almost as if he's in pain.

"a-are you okay?"

logan couldn't see you but he could picture your concerned face. scrunched eyebrows and wide bambi eyes, lips in a pout. god, he could just eat you up.

" 'm fine." his voice sounds rough, like a bark. he would never yell at you but he needed you to walk away because the feeling of his cock being suffocated in his jeans was killing him.

"alright." you whine. "see ya later then, lo."

soon enough he heard your footsteps down the hall, logan quickly strips himself of his black shirt, dark blue jeans and his boxers. without hesitation he reaches over to grab that panties he had taken from your hamper.

"fuck, smells so sweet." he groans, nose pressed against the soft soaked cotton as he tugs his throbbing cock. spreading the pearly beads of pre-cum.

with his senses clouded and a fire ignited in him, he kitten licks the patch, letting your slick dance on his tongue. picturing your legs wrapped around his head, how your tight hole would take his tongue or his fingers and the little noises that would escape you.

"that's my sweet pussy. all mine." logan mumbles possessively under his breath before spitting into the material and bringing it to his cock, using it to jerk off.

as his orgasm approaches, the fire intensifies; sweat dripping down his temples the faster his hand moves. abs also dripping in sweat as his chest rapidly moves up and down. mind swarmed with all the positions logan wants to put you in.

"s-shit." logan curses, clenching his teeth as his vision blurs and euphoria washes over him. ropes of cum spill all over his abs and happy trail, creating a sticky messy.

left alone and panting, covered in his release, logan's still unsatisfied. he knew there was only one thing that could fix this.

❀༉‧₊˚

it's near midnight when you finally hear logan leave his room. heavy boots heading towards the stairs, right by your room.

"where are you going, lo?" you ask, peaking out of your bedroom to catch him. he stops but doesn't acknowledge you. "gonna leave me here all alone?"

logan could've sworn that you would be asleep at this hour and he could leave to find some woman at the bar to help with his... situation.

"scott's around here somewhere." he dryly replies, trying to avoid your gaze.

"he left a few hours ago." you mumble, nervously messing with the bottom of your nightgown.

something was off about logan; you just couldn't figure out what it was. he wouldn't even look at you. had you done something wrong? was he upset with you? why was he avoiding you?

"i-is everything alright?" you ask, worried for the answer.

logan take a minute to respond, scratching the scruff on his face while he thinks. just because he looks strong doesn't mean he is internally. logan found his weakness in you. a woman he's known for a little over a year and yet you could bring him to his knees if you so pleased.

suddenly, logan turns and looks at you. he sucks in his breath sharply when he saw you dressed in a cute tiny white nightgown. logan was positive that you were the closest he will ever get to meeting an angel.

the material ends high up on your thighs and he swears that in this light he can see the outline of your nipples, watching how they pebble from the cool air in the hallway.

"it's just cravings." he finally answers, tearing his eyes off of your pretty shape.

the moment logan makes eye contact with you, you notice how the color changed from a light hazel to bordering black. he looked hungry. you've heard of this before, a feral state that mutants like him enter every six months or so and if you knew better, you would run.

"anything i can help you with?" you ask, batting your long lashes up at him.

"it's real dirty work, princess." logan warns, restraining himself from jumping at the opportunity.

"i don't mind." you tell him. in that moment, a familiar aroma hits him. "i wanna help you, logan."

normally, logan wouldn't let things get this far. sure, the two of you have made sly flirty comments in the past but it's never gone past just words.

he watches you walk back into your room, keeping the door open for him.

❀༉‧₊˚

your bedroom was damn near exactly how logan pictured it. soft earth toned colors, pretty sheets, messy desk with all the paperwork you two do together. most importantly, it smelled like you. not your perfume or whatever candle you lit earlier. this was different.

"logan..." your voice pulls him back to reality. "tell me what you want me to do."

so considerate. logan thinks to himself as he watches you sit with your knees against the mattress and look up at him like a dog looking at its owner, waiting for an order.

without a warning, logan crashes his lips against yours. it hot and messy how he almost swallows you whole. both of you have waited forever for this moment.

logan lays you flat on the mattress, not breaking the kiss. your teeth bite down on his bottom lip at the small thud. you go to whisper an apology but it's covered by logan's loud groaning.

he take this opportunity to grind against you, only covered in a pair of matching white panties. if he was in a clearer head space, he would've thought this was planned.

"u-uh, please." you whimper against his lips, lifting your hips a little to meet his.

it's quite cute how pathetic you look right now. struggling for more. logan latches his lips to your neck, leaving dark maroon bites behind as he moves further south.

at the waistband of your panties, logan nips at the skin on your hipbone, leaving behind a pretty mark to match the others. he craved to be closer to you. pressing his nose into the wet patch and inhaling sharply, grunting at your essence.

a loud squeal falls from your lips as you lazily try to push him away. too embarrassed by the lewd action. nonetheless, logan refuses to move until he's had enough. licking over the cotton and making out with your covered cunt.

"l-logan!" you gasp as he flips you over on your belly with your ass in the air.

the sound of the material ripping fills the room. this was better than logan could've imagined. the sight of your throbbing cunt as it cries for his attention, and only his.

"prettiest fuckin' pussy i've ever seen." he marvels under his breath. "gonna let me use it how i please, princess?"

"mhm." you nod, trying to look back at him. "it's yours, lo."

your words send him on a spiral, he sinks you down on his tongue so he can fuck you at his pace. exploring your walls and reveling in your taste. no dessert in the world could compare to you.

logan grinds against your mattress, desperately seeking relief. not that he's complaining. he's more than happy with his position; and so are you.

there will be bruises on your hips tomorrow, without a doubt because of how tightly logan's gripping your hips. keeping you right where he wants you to be.

"n-need more, please." you moan, fists balling up the sheets.

"what a greedy fuckin' baby." logan says, pulling off of a second to replace his tongue with two thick fingers, stretching you out for him.

pretty little 'uh, uh, uh's' spill from your lips every time you bounce back on logan's fingers. he's hypnotized by the way you manage to coat his finger with your slick. dripping down his palm and onto your sheets.

"look 'atcha, sweetheart." he mutters, doubtful that you can hear him over the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. "struggling to take my fingers. gotta stretch ya' for my cock. think you can take it?"

"mhm!" you answer, feeling a trail of kisses on the back of your thighs as logan speeds up his thrusts, locating your sweet spot with ease.

there's a warmth of pleasure that washes over you. it's different than anything else you've experienced. before you could even figure it out, you to gush all over logan's hand and the sheets.

"she's squeezing me so damn tight." he growls, watching as your pussy spasms from overstimulation, practically knocking the wind out of you. logan has to fight off cumming in his jeans as he licks up your release.

once logan allows you to catch your breath, you turn and say, "i've never um, never done that before."

"fuck." logan curses, smacking his palm down on your ass. "it won't be the last time tonight."

the sound of logan undoing his belt echos in the room. lining the head up to your entrance and slowly sinking into you. your eyes roll back into your head at the stretch. similar to a cat, you arch your back and purr at the feeling.

"f-feel so full." you moan as he picks up his pace.

"that's it, princess." he grunts, moving his hand down your back and wrapping it into your hair. "tell me how good it feels."

and you don't waste a single second to do so.

"you're s-so big, can feel you e-everywhere." you reply in between heavy breaths.

the hand wrapped in your hair tugs you forward so your back is against his chest. with his lips pressed against your ear, he mutters, "everywhere, huh?"

you nod, digging your nails into his thighs with each thrust. his other hand travels from your breast to your lower torso underneath the nightgown. your eyes shoot open as soon as he lightly pushes down.

"can you feel me right here?" he asks, slowing down his strokes for you to focus.

when you don't respond right away, the hand in your hair moves to your jaw, gripping it and angling your gaze down to the large bulge in your belly. you always knew logan was larger than the average man but you didn't even think this was possible.

"y-yes!" you whimper loudly, needing him to go faster.

logan's not religious by any means but in that moment, he wishes he could personally thank god for everyone being gone tonight. he can't imagine having to muffle your little moans right now while he starts pounding back into you.

"gimme kiss, please?" you whisper in between the lewd wet smacks of his heavy balls against your ass.

how could logan turn down his sweet girl? even while being ruined, you still managed to use your manners.

the two of you sloppily make out, exploring each other. he swallows all the whimpers you let out against his lips. except the one from when logan pulls back.

"what are you–?"

"open your mouth and stick out your tongue for me." logan demanded, staring down at you like a feral animal.

you obey, opening up for him like he asks. logan spits on top your tongue, feeling your tight cunt flutter around him. clenching at the taste of him.

"swallow." he says, watching you do so. "what a good girl."

"i'm so f-fucking close, lo." your head falls back against his shoulder as your vision turns white, stars behind your eye lids.

"me too." logan warns. " 'ya gonna let me fill you up, sweetheart? bet you wanna be full of me, to carry my seed? isn't that right?"

he knows you're too far gone, babbling incoherent sentences and soft pleas. the tiny, "mhm" and head nod give him the okay to cum inside you.

"s-shit!" he curses. "you're so tight, practically suffocating me, baby."

his orgasm triggers another for you, milking him until both of you are struggling for air. the room felt like the inside of a sauna and reeks of sex.

"got another one in you, pretty girl?" logan asks, slowly pulling out of you.

"y-yeah." you answer, letting him move you how he wanted.

logan slips your nightgown off of you and lays you down on your back again. this time fully taking in your form. every curve, dimple and scar. he makes sure to pay your breasts some attention, taking one in his mouth and massages the other, pinching and rolling your nipple until your whining. desperately you attempt to rub your pussy against his abs, gaining very little friction from it.

if he wasn't in this rut, he would've taken more time to appreciate this. next time he will.

you open up for him again and he slips in with ease. logan brings your thighs to your chest, folding you in half.

"harder, please." you beg, staring up at him with those wide eyes that he's a sucker for.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he grunts, trying to restrain himself.

"i can take it, lo." you tell him, stroking his cheek with your much smaller thumb. "i know you need it right now."

instead of answering with words, logan bends down and kisses you in a more tender way than before. as soon as he picks up his thrusts, you tug softly at his locks, making his hips stir and lose rhythm for a second.

"you like it rough, don't 'ya, princess?" he grunts in your neck while his thumb moves to rub circles on your clit. "fuck, my cum is just spilling out of you."

a tear rolls down your cheek, only further encouraging logan. licking up the salty tear before it falls off your skin. never in your life have you felt so dirty.

"please, need to feel you logan." you whimper and he knows exactly what you mean.

"don't worry, baby. i'm close." he says, feeling you flutter around him.

logan's gaze stays locked on where the two of you are connected, watching him slide in and out of you. almost drooling at the image of his cock in your stomach.

within minutes, you're soaking his cock like you did his fingers. slick landing all over logan's sculpted torso. your fingers gather some before bringing them to his lips, letting him lick them clean.

a loud animalistic growl signals his release, painting your walls again for the second time tonight.

both of you lay stuck together. neither ready to let go of each other just yet. on the floor, you notice something light blue peaking out of the back pocket of his discarded jeans.

"so that's where my panties went?" you giggle, capturing logan's attention.

"yeah..." his voice raspy and deeper than usual. "sorry 'bout that, sweetheart."

"it's okay." you reply. "but next time that you get these 'cravings', come to me and i'll help y–"

logan cuts you off on with the rock of his hips and the wet slosh of your ruined cunt. before you can even moan, he's grabbed your white panties next to you and shoves them in your mouth.

fuck, he should've come to you sooner.

– tags: @hazydespair @itsmemuffy @wolvndmouth @nightingale-slayer @melday0105 @collector-of-furby-furs @solistarrs @atomicmystery @milfsarefineashell @ohfourgotten @keerygal @shewolverinesworld @tezooks @spookysquids @llorentezete @actuallybridgetjones @planetxella @silversprings-mp3 @coocoocachewgotscrewed @lethallyprotected @laweona150 @sturnsvoid @emoevanafton @slowlikehoneyyy @ginnylupin @omnivirgo @shiv-r @buckyssugarchick @ayamenimthiriel @balariie @ssloveslogan @stabbedfawn @dxddyspup @leggomiegg0

[thinkinonsense]

heyyyy so maybe i should write again....??

[gutsby]

Too Close for Comfort

Pairing: Joel Miller x Babysitter!Reader

Summary: You’ve been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you’re surfing the web on her dad’s computer, and you find some…unusual things in his search history.

Or, Joel likes to jerk off to your lookalike on PornHub. It’s time you showed him what the real thing is like.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Creampie. Mommy/Daddy Roleplay (HEAR ME OUT!!) Brief boot humping. Squirting. Perv!Joel. Breeding kink.

Note: ‘Just call me if anyone else checks in…and by anyone, I mean any swingin dick’ is a line from No Country for Old Men

Word count: 12.7k

Purple slime had been Sarah’s idea.

It was an innocent thing, really. The four-year-old had practically been bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes wide and shining with excitement when she’d begged—‘Can we pleeeeease?!’—and who were you to tell her no?

You’d only be breaking one small rule of Joel’s, after all. One silly little admonition he’d made before leaving for work the first day you’d started babysitting for him. That had been over a year ago, and he hadn’t even sounded that serious when he’d said it. He probably wouldn’t mind if you bent the rule this one time at Sarah’s behest.

‘Don’t go in the computer room, please.’

Don’t use Joel’s desktop. Don’t rifle through any of the drawers in Joel’s office—it was a mess, but everything was in its place, according to him. Just don’t go in there.

But in exchange for Sarah agreeing to take her nap that day without protest, you’d promised to order her slime.

Purple, gooey, glittery, sticky stuff for her new collection.

You weren’t sure when the fuck putty had become the plaything of choice for kids in Pre-K, but you hadn’t been in a place to judge; whatever Sarah wanted to do, so long as it was safe for her to play with, was totally fine by you.

It was just one rule.

Surely if Mr. Miller knew how badly his daughter wanted the slime, he’d be fine with you booting up his computer once. That was what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

What kept humming through your mind as the desktop came to life and you toggled straight for Google Chrome.

Be quick, be quiet, it’s fine. It’s fine.

Purple goo—it was safe. Innocent. Completely justifiable.

What could the sweet, old, forty-something and forever polite Joel Miller possibly have to hide on this machine that made it wrong for you to buy this one simple toy?

You reached for the keyboard and inhaled a quick breath.

Then you typed one letter, and your heart nearly seized.

P…

…ornhub.com

It was the very first thing that appeared in the search bar.

You couldn’t unsee it. Instinctively, your hand clamped over your mouth, and your eyes widened. You couldn’t help but read the four URLs that immediately dropped down below the first; they were just so garishly inviting.

Hot, Naughty Babysitter gets POUNDED by her Boss!

Slutty Babysitter Gets Railed from Behind and Loves It

Big Dick Boss Gives Babysitter a Passionate Raw Fuck

‘I’ve Never Done This!’ Babysitter Deepthroats Cock

“Oh…my gosh,” you said, words muffled by your palm.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was just too bizarre, too far out of character, too unlike your boss.

The man had scarcely said ten words to you altogether that didn’t relate to your job in some way or another. He rarely ever engaged in casual confab, and he certainly wasn’t the type to flirt, or make you uncomfortable in the slightest. Frankly, in all the time you’d been babysitting, you always thought you were just…invisible to Joel Miller.

Not this. Never this.

You were still staring at the screen when you realized that you’d missed one URL title from the list. It was long.

It was the most unnerving one of all, you came to see.

Babysitter Lounging Poolside in Hot Red Bikini Gets a BIG Surprise—Her Old Boss Teaches Her How to FUCK

Your hand lowered from your face. It trembled, contemplating, before coming to rest atop the mouse.

Something about this seemed familiar. Strangely…off.

You couldn’t explain it, but your head and your heart and your hand gravitated to that one odd link in particular. You hadn’t even meant to move the mouse. Or press it with your finger. But there you went, following your instincts like some dumb, brainless ditz, and then the screen was changing. Going dark with the shift to an adult site before brightening anew with the thumbnail.

It was paused on one frame. Your jaw slackened.

The girl staring back from the scene was you.

Or looked exactly, uncannily like you anyway.

It was then that you noticed what she was wearing, too—what you guessed wouldn’t be on her body for long—and you glanced down to your own shoulder. Just like your on-screen doppelgänger, you were wearing the same bikini in a bright, cherry-red hue beneath your tank top.

You wore it under your clothes damn near every day, indulging in the Millers’ backyard pool more often than not, and even being allowed to swim there on the days Sarah had summer camp—Joel had been so obliging.

So accommodating and sweet.

You never thought he’d be seeking your fucking twin online on a porn site after watching you traipse around his property wearing it. Your gut clenched; you clicked.

“Hey, sweetheart! Everything go OK?”

The voice that rumbled through the speakers was low. Male. Vaguely paternal and with a hint of a Southern lilt.

You swallowed, knowing exactly where this was going.

You weren’t sure why you were even watching when you could already predict what would become of it. The camera panned over a body identical to yours; it landed on a face that was smiling and sweet and so like your own you almost had to question whether it might not be you after all. Had you somehow forgotten this secret porn alter ego in a bout of amnesia? You kept watching.

The girl bit her bottom lip and let out the phoniest giggle.

“Yes, sir. Perfectly fine. Do you like my new bikini?”

Be so fucking serious, you thought, critically.

Then you remembered it was porn, not an Oscar-winning film. You saw the camera tilt down to her tits, and you had to admit, she had a great rack. A bit nicer than yours.

For a beat, you wondered if Joel had thought the same.

You had to batter those thoughts away, because the next second brought a big, burly hand onto the screen. It reached for the girl with her perfect, perky breasts and it kneaded them softly. No further pretense or prelude was needed—they just jumped right in and let it happen, like this was a normal thing for a babysitter and a boss to do.

Maybe in some other universe it was. In a world where a girl your age could just smile, and bat her eyes, and let them roll back gently as a whimper crossed her lips and she begged him, ‘More, daddy, more!’ this was all okay.

The man squeezed the flesh harder. She whined, and he proceeded to push the red nylon aside and expose the whole expanse of her breast—and holy shit, even the nipple looked like yours. Your mouth opened wider, and for a moment, it was like you couldn’t breathe as you watched that old, sun-kissed hand fondle the breast of a girl who looked just like you. Who was peering up at a man who sounded almost like Joel, murmuring, ‘Attagirl.’

You’d heard your boss say that once.

It had been such a silly, off-handed thing that you doubted he even remembered saying it. But one time, you’d struggled to open the passenger door to his truck before he drove you home. Once you’d narrowly managed to pry it open and slide into your seat, he’d laughed and rumbled: ‘Attagirl.’ Your face had warmed.

Just like your cheeks were doing now, all hot and bothered and desperate to hear more. Presently, the man slid the top off of the girl’s chest, and her breasts hung freely. You could hear him groan behind the camera at the sight, and not too long after that, before he could reach to touch her tits again, she was crawling on her knees toward him. Shuffling easily and expertly across the lawn chair and undoing the belt, button, and zip of his pants in a matter of seconds. A hand smoothed over her head, and you could see her preen beneath his touch.

Before she’d even wrapped her lips around his cock, your stomach was churning. Your fingers were stirring from the mouse and moving gently—again, of their own volition, it seemed—toward the waistband of your own bottoms. It was sick, admittedly. So wrong to be wanting to touch yourself to the very same video your boss had indulged in himself, in the very same chair he had done the deed. But you couldn’t help it. Your fingers slipped under the the fabric of your shorts, then your bikini, then your throat let out the tiniest noise upon seeing a cock appear on-screen. It was abnormally large, of course.

Silently, you wondered if Joel’s might not look the same. Your stomach flipped as soon as the girl took it in her mouth, and your index and middle fingers landed on your clit. You barely needed to touch to feel a jolt of pleasure.

Her head bobbed up and down. You felt powerless to do anything else but rub. And circle. And moan the slightest bit when you saw her coat his length with her shiny spit.

You heard that your noises mirrored hers. You didn’t care. Really, it felt as though you were in a trance, and you couldn’t stop watching, or touching, until you’d had your fill. Like Mr. Miller had done himself. It was all too much.

Before you even realized it, five minutes had passed, the man and woman on-screen were shifting from oral to raw, penetrative sex, and you were nearing your peak. Right before the cock that had been lodged down the girl’s throat could slide into her wet, glistening cunt, you felt your stomach lurch. You rubbed harder, watching the fat and leaking tip of the man’s cock tease through her folds, and just as he was about to slide in and you could finally find your release…a door banged open downstairs.

You almost screamed.

As quickly as you could, you yanked your hand out of your pants and clicked out of that browser even faster. The second you heard footfalls on the steps, you scampered out of there. Half-sprinting, half-tip-toeing down the hall and toward the bathroom, before halting at the door. You made your presence known with one light stomp of your foot, pretending to be turning and walking out, and as soon as you did, Joel was right there. Staring.

Sweating.

Scrubbing at his face with one weary hand, before taking a rag and wiping it through his beard. He sighed heavily.

“Long day?” you chirped while trying to mask the panic.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Joel answered, voice wan, “How’s my little terror? Asleep? She give ya any trouble?”

Just asked me to buy her a toy online and inadvertently led me to find your internet Spank Bank archives full of women who look like me. Other than that, it was fine.

“I put her down about an hour ago. She was great.”

You forced a smile, and Joel seemed to believe it.

“Perfect. Need me to give you a ride home?”

“No, no, you should stay here with Sar—”

“‘S’alright. Tommy’s right downstairs.”

Of course he’d brought him home.

“No, really, I can walk. It’s fine—”

“Don’t be silly. C’mon, kiddo.”

Kiddo.

Kiddo.

The man had been jerking off to the thought of you for who knows how long, and now he called you ‘kiddo’?

You hated how arousing the nickname sounded from him

You despised yourself for rubbing your clit in his office.

Most of all, you loathed the way your panties had gotten wet the last time you’d climbed into his truck and heard that word crawl off of his old, drawling tongue: ‘Attagirl.’

Reluctantly, you nodded your head. You followed him downstairs and hoped the car door wouldn’t stick again.

He had to stop.

It was no longer a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ his dick would lead him straight off a cliff, and today, Joel was starting to think that precipice was looking extra nice. Tempting.

Almost as inviting as the divot he could see at the small of your back, glimmering with a couple hot beads of sweat under the midafternoon sun. He swallowed.

Sarah was at camp today. You’d had the time to yourself, and the weather was blistering hot, and of course, where else would you be but his backyard? He’d told you ad nauseum, ever since you started babysitting his kid, that his pool was open to you whenever you so chose to go.

Presently, Joel wished he could revoke that invitation.

Seeing how you were flipped on your stomach, body all soft and warm and splayed out on one of his deck chairs—wearing that fucking red swimsuit, of all things—Joel was left to ogle from his office window, and inside, he felt like a certified pervert. Arguably, he was. His old, worn hands had all but glided to find his mouse as soon as he’d sat down at his desk and saw you out there, and no sooner had his cursor found Chrome than his cock started to stir. He’d wanted to watch. If not you in all your bare, sun-baked glory, then surely the woman he could see getting her throat and cunt stuffed on his screen.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Was he really that much of a gooner he couldn’t let his kid’s babysitter lounge outside without stroking his dick?

Shit. He had the bottle of lotion in one hand and the box of tissues in the other in no time at all. He ripped three free Kleenex aside and reached for his mouse once more.

He was pissed at himself. He toggled over to the Hub with a grunt, and in no time at all, had you pulled up.

Joel liked to pretend it was you, anyway.

If he couldn’t have the sweet young thing every swinging dick in this town would’ve killed to have himself, he could rub one out to a girl exactly like you. He could fantasize.

He could skip the video to 8:53 on the dot, as he always did, and he could rub himself raw. It wouldn’t take long.

He always fast-forwarded to that exact part, without fail, because she moaned like you then. He’d never forget it.

It had almost been six months since it happened, and he still remembered that sound as clear as day. You’d been hauling your backpack off the couch in the living room, having stuffed the thing full with more school supplies than you could feasibly carry, and Joel had been in the kitchen, unseen. You’d lifted the bag with effort, and once you had, you let out a soft but audible whine. You dropped the bag back down to your feet, and when you bent to try again, you’d moaned fully. It was like the stretch had made you feel good, or something. You’d huffed and managed to get the weight slung over your back with modest success, then left, but Joel had been changed. Too quickly had he retreated to his office and swore to find any clip where a moan sounded like that.

“Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!”

Granted, the dialogue was cheesy, but the sound after it was identical to the one you’d made. Joel repeated it.

He hadn’t even noticed, but he’d already lathered his hand and cock with lotion. He was scrubbing vigorously while your twin wiggled her hips and begged her co-star to put it in, to quit teasing her pussy like that, can’t you see I’m practically dripping for you, daddy? Look at it!

Unfortunately, Joel’s head was turned the other direction—away from the screen, and toward the window—watching you where you sat out on the lawn.

He stroked harder. He groaned.

You had just turned onto your back. Your tits looked incredible. Joel reckoned they’d look even better with his dick pushed up between them, and at the thought, his mouth watered. His lips were slightly parted, and he feared he might drool. What a sight he must have been then: jaw slack, lids heavy, cock in hand, and moan after moan bubbling out of his throat. He got closer to climax.

“Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.”

It wasn’t long after that that Joel heard the girl whine in pleasure—the man behind her had notched in the first inch and told her to behave—and meanwhile, he watched your chest rise and fall, rise and fall outside. It was calm. Unlike the girl being taught how to fuck poolside, you remained untouched. Spotless. Placid and serene while your hands picked up a magazine and began flipping through it. While Joel’s orgasm crested inside him, he wondered if you’d ever want to try something like that. Roleplay. Or would it be fake at all? Had you ever been touched by a man, shown the best ways to give and receive pleasure, or was it all brand new, like it was supposed to be for the woman on his screen? Joel panted, and he fucked his hand harder. He groaned.

“Oh, daddy, it’s so big! Feels so good going inside me!”

“You love gettin’ fucked by an older man, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please don’t stop—oh, OHHH!”

Joel wanted to be the only older man you had.

If he wasn’t the first, he sure as fuck could be the last. Give you all the dizzying, euphoric feelings your body deserved and stretch you open gently for the taking.

He could teach you so much, ruin you for any oth—

Shit.

What the fuck was this asshole doing here?

At the back gate, he saw his neighbor Dieter.

The man strolled across the lawn, and Joel’s orgasm receded in a blink. He was walking right over to you.

No. No, no, no. Joel released his dick from its vice grip and felt the thing twitch in indignation. Meanwhile, the sound of skin on skin continued to flood his eardrums from out of the computer speakers, where the happy babysitter-boss duo was hitting a brutal pace. The girl let out one over-the-top shriek of pleasure, and Joel clicked pause. He toggled out of the browser. Then he redirected his gaze out the office window, where his own girl was being accosted by Dieter. His blood boiled with anger.

Who did this creep think he was? The man never so much as looked Joel’s way or approached his property unless it was to ask to be ‘lent’ some booze or else ask after some friend, relative, or coworker Dieter wanted to be introduced to—he was perennially unemployed and a fuckboy bachelor to his core. The last Joel had heard, he’d spent the last year in Los Angeles, or Paris, or some other too-big city to chase his singing and acting dreams

And here he was now, hitting on his poor, defenseless babysitter. Joel wouldn’t stand for that in any world.

Though his dick was still erect, it had softened some, too. His rage facilitated that, and him shoving his length back in his jeans, zipping it up, and all but punching the desktop off made it spongier still. He walked like he was mad at the floor beneath his boots. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so defensive—he had just been rubbing one out to the sight of you less than five minutes ago—but now wasn’t the time for thinking. He had to act.

Protect, if he had to.

What if his neighbor wanted to go for a swim, too?

Joel would drown the man with his two bare hands if he so much as reached for your bikini-clad form. He stalked loudly down the hall and searched for a less sweaty shirt to wear, then some deodorant, then a comb. He peered in the bathroom mirror and saw his black-and-grey locks all out of sorts, and for a second, he contemplated taking a shower. You’d probably be able to smell his unsatisfied desire from outside. He looked, and felt, a bit unhinged.

Joel decided he didn’t care, before plodding downstairs.

Outside, you lay in the same position he’d seen you last. Your hand was shielding your face. You were smiling.

And beside you, Dieter was grinning even bigger.

Joel made a beeline down the porch steps, then across the lawn, like his life might’ve depended on it. Scowling.

“—but getting cast in Gladiator II would’ve been wild—”

Of course Dieter was yapping about his failed acting career. Of course. Joel could hear him drone on as he approached, though he didn’t register a word of what he said. Instead, he waved a hand. He feigned a calm tone:

“Dieter! How’s it going?”

And he slowed down, too.

Just as he drew in, his neighbor volleyed a look his way. Joel couldn’t miss how his smile twitched down a little.

“Joel.”

Accepting a cordial hand in greeting.

“Doing alright, how ‘bout yourself?”

Joel nodded fine, just fine and offered some offhand remark about not having seen him since last summer, and Dieter couldn’t resist the chance to puff up and mention a school he’d been attending. Joel didn’t hear it, or give a shit. His gaze was already trained on you. Your own flitted from Dieter, to Joel, then to Dieter again, and your lips were smiling kindly enough. You seem humored.

“Mr. Bravo just got back from Berlin,” you beamed.

Then Dieter met your look and shook his head.

“Dieter, sweetie, Dieter. Or Dee, if you want.”

Joel almost wanted to vomit in his mouth.

“Germany, huh? What brings you here?”

No sense in beating around the bush.

Joel meant to ask why Dieter was here, in his backyard, with his babysitter, of course. Why the fuck he was eyeing you like that, like your tits were two Emmys and the only way to earn it himself was to stare as long, and as hard, as possible. Joel cleared his throat instinctively.

Dieter blinked and cast a glance back to him.

“Oh, here. Yeah. I, um…I just wanted to see if you had that— that—” He snapped his fingers, “That leafblower.”

Leafblower?

He was so full of shit.

“My leafblower,” Joel repeated.

It was fucking July, for crying out loud.

Evidently, his neighbor didn’t seem to care. He met Joel’s gaze with an even look, and he nodded his head.

He doubled down: “Yeah, the leafblower. I’ve had some debris pile up in my yard since I’ve been gone, y’know.”

“Are you gonna be in Austin long? Or are you going back overseas once you’ve had that casting call?” you asked.

You cocked your head with genuine curiosity. Joel grit his teeth, but he tried not to let his discontent show anyplace else on his face. A muscle might’ve jumped when he saw how smugly Dieter smirked at your intrigue.

“Oh, I’ll be here long enough, don’t you worry,” he said.

That was it.

Joel gestured to the shed in the back corner of the yard, about to tell Dieter that the leafblower was in there, go knock yourself out, when his neighbor cut in once again.

“In the meantime, maybe I’ll have you babysit for me. I hate to steal Sarah’s pal, but maybe you can split your time between my place and Joel’s. What do you think?”

You blinked a little quicker, like you weren’t quite sure what to say at first. Joel took the chance to interject.

“You don’t have any kids, Bravo,” he practically growled.

“I know. I’ve got cats, though,” Dieter just grinned back, flitting a cheeky look to you. “And you have no idea how naughty those pussycats can get while a man’s away.”

That was really all Joel could take. He didn’t even let you answer; he just pointed to the shed and made a fist with his other hand at his side. His chest was heaving breaths.

“You and her can chat when she’s off the clock, how ‘bout that? Leafblower’s in the shed. Door’s unlocked.”

His words didn’t invite protest of any kind. Dense as he was, Dieter probably sensed that he’d ticked his neighbor off with the suggestive comment to his babysitter, and he backed away, both literally and figuratively. He bid a quick, cavalier goodbye with a shit-eating grin stretching his lips, and then he went to the storage shed and left.

You were still blinking, still creasing your brows tight, by the time the back gate had slammed shut behind him. You watched after him, teeth gnawing at your cheek.

“He seemed like a funny gu—”

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

Joel’s words appeared to sting like a slap in the face. You jerked your head back to him, seeming to say, ‘What?’

“You know what. Don’t play innocent now,” Joel griped.

You continued to stare, then started to shake your head.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Don’t Mr. Miller me, either,” he snapped, far shorter than he’d ever spoken to you before. His nostrils flared, “You’re old enough to know better. You did all of that.”

“All of what?” you shot back.

“Attracted men like Dieter into my yard.”

“He’s your neighbor! What do you expect?”

Offense marred your tone. He didn’t entirely blame you.

“No, no—he never sticks his nose over here unless he sees something he wants. You were flaunting yourself.”

At that, your mouth fell open.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Miller? Are you serious?”

“Language, young lady—”

“I don’t give a shit.” You stood up from your chair. Your eyes flashed with ire. Just like his hands had before, yours curled into fists. You stood your ground with him. “You invited me to come swim here whenever I wanted to. You did that, asshole. What did you expect me to sunbathe in, army fatigues and fucking combat boots?”

Joel blinked hard at that. He didn’t like being mocked.

“Still shouldn’t be that damn skimpy. And I said lang—”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, dad. Don’t act like you’re mine.”

Don’t act like you’re mine.

Joel’s chest tightened. His gaze seared into yours, almost as though he were as angry as you were now, but deep down, the man only felt remorse. Resentment. Whatever rage he harbored now was reserved for himself

He shouldn’t have gone there.

He shouldn’t have masked his own jealousy with pseudo paternal scolding. He looked like a dickhead doing that.

And you weren’t shy to let him know it in the slightest.

Presently, your finger was jabbed in his face. You were planted less than two feet from where he stood, and though you were noticeably dwarfed by his size, your next words had him beat by a foot, if he’d had to guess.

“I watch your kid, Joel. I am not your daughter. If you don’t want me hanging around here in my hot red bikini, then you can just say that. But don’t blame me for him.”

Joel bristled at your words, though he wasn’t sure why. When he opened his mouth to speak again, you added:

“And don’t blame me for that, either.”

Suddenly, he realized your finger was pointed at his legs.

Or, rather, what was poking up stiff between them.

Joel’s cheeks heated up to a thousand degrees.

You’d just caught him. You’d seen his arousal.

And you were turning on your heels again.

Before Joel could even try to summon the words to his tongue, you were grabbing your things. Shoving your shoes onto your feet. And Joel had only to stand there.

Feeling stupid and inert beside you.

As you went to the back gate, he somehow managed to call that you didn’t have a car, let him drive you back.

You didn’t even dignify his words with a verbal response.

You just raised your middle finger over your shoulder.

And then the gate crashed shut behind you.

You would be walking home that day.

Two big eyes and round cheeks were all you could see.

Then, they darted beneath the covers and were gone.

“Oh no, where’d sweet Sarah go?” you wondered aloud. Sitting at the edge of the bed and pretending not to see where she’d just dipped her head under the blankets, you furrowed your brows and proceeded to pat around you.

Everywhere you felt with your hands, you completely ignored the big lump under the duvet. It was a game.

A silly one at that—hide-and-go-seek was generally best left to places where you couldn’t figure out her location in the blink of an eye. But you played along. You heard a soft giggle. You continued feeling around the twin-sized mattress like this was the most bewildering puzzle of all.

“Whe-ere’s Sarah?” you sing-songed.

You heard a shuffling of limbs, a sniffle.

Your palm tapped right by those little feet.

And as soon as you did, she screamed. At four years old, Sarah hadn’t quite mastered the art of being stealthy.

You’d cut her some slack. You always had.

Blindly passing where her body lay, you glided to the opposite side of her bed and tapped inquiringly there.

“Is she…here?” You got a pillow.

“No!” Sarah shrieked back.

Such a helpful, obliging kid. She’d make a terrible spy.

“Is she…up here?” You rapped the headboard twice.

“No!!” she squealed.

You glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was approaching bedtime. Taking note of this, and knowing you couldn’t keep up with the charade for much longer, you let out a sigh. You stood from the bed, looked around the room with dramatic éclat, then started to walk away.

“Okay…I guess if Sarah’s not here I’ll have to leave…”

The second you said that, Sarah threw the covers back. She jumped up in bed, and she stomped her little feet.

“No! No! I’m here! I’m here!”

You spun on your heels, eyes wide with faux surprise.

“Sarah!”

And then you rushed back over, just in time to watch her drop to the bed and flash you a wide, exuberant smile.

“Your Sarah,” she corrected.

She adored it when you called her that. Your Sarah.

You nodded your head in agreement, “My Sarah. Sorry.”

She nodded too, like she’d just reminded you of the most important thing, and then she slipped back under her covers. She let you drag the purple duvet over her frame, all the way up to her chin, and when she was all snug inside, she gave another smile. She kicked her feet again.

“Stay,” she commanded, tone still sugar-sweet.

“I will, baby. ‘Til your daddy gets back, I’ll be here.”

“I mean forever!” Sarah dragged out the last syllable, and, not yet content with the answer you’d proffered, tried swaying you again, still more emphatic, “For-ever!”

If your daddy wasn’t such an ass, I might consider it.

Instead, you smiled back at her and shook your head. You smoothed the hair away from her face, then you leaned in and kissed her forehead with a gentle peck.

“Then my family would miss me. I gotta see them.”

“Says who?” Sarah’s pout was unmistakable.

Before you could reply, she cut in again.

“You can be my family. My mommy.”

Your throat constricted at those words. You weren’t sure what to say, or how to assuage your sweet Sarah then.

Again, you were about to open your mouth to speak, when your pint-sized companion piped up again. This time, her voice was softer. Surprisingly delicate and low.

“I want you to be my mommy,” she told you quietly, “Then you’ll live here. With me and daddy. And you’ll never have to go home again and we can play all day!”

Your heart ached. You kissed the tip of her nose and turned away, momentarily, to hide the hurt on your face.

Sarah Miller deserved much more in a mother than you.

When you looked up again, her grin was big. Hopeful.

“Don’t you wanna be my mommy too?” she asked.

“‘Course I do, baby,” you answered without hesitation, “But…don’t you think your daddy should have a say too?”

Somehow, her face got even brighter.

“He will! He— he…”

Sarah trailed off a second, as if considering her words. She didn’t understand what marriage meant. You’d help.

“Your daddy,” you finished for her, speaking slow and soft as you leaned in close, “is a good man who deserves a good woman to make your mommy. Don’t you agree?”

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Yeah, but—”

“And a mommy’s gotta be someone he really loves.”

“But he…”

She was thinking again. You could tell. You pressed on.

“He is gonna find someone great someday. He’ll love you and her to bits, and y’all will get to play together all day.”

“But he loves you!” Sarah cried, at length.

A beat.

Your breath faltered.

The girl’s words had scarcely hung in the air for more than two seconds, and their meaning hardly registered in your brain before your own were coming out fast. Certain

“Your daddy doesn’t love me, baby. I’m just his friend.”

“Yes, he does! He told me so himself!”

Again, you shook your head.

“You misunderstood him, sweetie.”

You tried to smooth her hair back again, but Sarah’s head bucked away. She scrunched up her nose in clear protest and refused to let you cradle her face until she’d spoken her piece. When she did, her voice was pleading all over:

“Daddy loves you, he told me. You can be my mommy.”

And for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you felt your heart balloon in your chest. Your gut clenched—but not for the reasons she or you wanted it to. The truth was that you didn’t have the words to tell a four-year-old girl that her father didn’t love you like that at all, that his head and his heart were anywhere but with you, and that, if you were being honest, you were furious with him. How he could so much as hint at such nonsense was beyond you. His little girl dreamed of having a mother. It was stupid and senseless and cruel to even suggest that that woman could be you. You sighed.

But, despite your every thought and feeling to the contrary, you knew you had to soothe the girl with some small semblance of hope. Something to hold her over for the night, so she didn’t cry herself to sleep thinking that you didn’t want to be her mommy. Gently, you leaned in.

You lifted the covers back up from where they’d fallen. You tucked them snug around her torso, and you paused.

Your tone was measured and soft when you spoke next:

“I don’t know about your daddy, baby. What I do know is that I would be the luckiest lady alive to get to be your mommy, alright? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

And you meant it. You saw one look light up her face, and every ounce of anger that had been provoked by her father was forgotten in an instant. Her grin ensured it.

“Anywhere,” she parroted back.

“Anywhere,” you said, again.

Then you kissed the crown of her head, wished her sweet dreams, cut the little light off. You left the room quietly.

It was only when you were out of there and far enough away down the hallway that your skin started to burn.

You couldn’t help it. Anger was fast to trickle back.

This feeling was only compounded when the next moment brought a sound to the landing on the stairs. You glanced over down the hall, muscles all tensing at once, and when you saw him there, it was as though your rage just bubbled over. Your jaw clenched; your stomach flipped in a way so decidedly unlike how it had done for him two days ago, in his office, and suddenly, your throat was working again. You kept your voice low this time, keen not to draw Sarah’s attention out there, but the words you used were clear. Quiet. Doubtlessly effective.

Even in the dark, you saw his brows jump when he heard:

“Joel, we need to talk.”

It had been two years since he’d had a woman in here.

Joel wished it were under any circumstances but these.

Presently, your eyes were ablaze. The two of you had just stepped into his room and shut the door behind you, and with the click of a latch, you hadn’t thought to hold it in:

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He blinked.

Well, many things.

Joel wouldn’t have had the space to explain it all if you’d given him a week, and still, he had to say something. He blinked again, made a sound in his throat as if to clear it, then shook his head. His shoulders sagged in his jacket.

“I…I’m sorry.”

For the other day. For getting caught up in his own anger and taking it out on you. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for now, or what he should say, but he thought it best to start there. He shrugged his jacket off and set it over the back of the nearest chair. He turned to you again, where you were standing with a warning look.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” you said. “Say sorry to Sarah.”

Sarah?

Before he could speak, you went on.

“You’re just setting her up for heartbreak, you know that? I mean how selfish— how stupid could you possibly be?”

You pursed your lips like tears might threaten if you didn’t. This caught him off guard—his daughter? What could he have said or done to hurt her in any of this?

“What are you talking about?”

“You said I’d be her mom, Joel!”

He winced. You furrowed your brows and set your mouth in a line—really trying to fight the emotion behind it—and, while all the rest of you bristled in anticipation for what was to come, Joel softened. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to be the guy who lost his head at the thought of seeing you cry and forget the whole reason you were upset with him in the first place, but he couldn’t help it. Though you looked like you wanted to kill him right then, Joel drew closer. He shifted toward you.

“Did— did she, uh…call you…mommy?” he said, pained.

“Yeah. And you let her believe she could,” you spat.

He hadn’t meant to do that, either. Sarah had been calling you that for a while when you weren’t around to hear, and after enough times telling her otherwise, he’d just stopped correcting her on it. Sarah wanted a mother. You were the closest thing she had, and who was he to sabotage that? At the time, he’d just wanted to…pretend.

That was a running theme he had going with you.

Right now, you didn’t seem to care about that.

You just rolled your eyes in that cool, juvenile way when you didn’t hear a response from him, and he had to bite his tongue from saying something worse. He hated when you did that. It made him remember your age—the reality of you being his kid’s babysitter and how guilty he should feel for wanting to do something more about that eyeroll.

He wasn’t your father.

You weren’t Sarah’s mother, either.

You most certainly weren’t the girl on his computer screen, as much as he would’ve liked to see you that way, and even though you were standing here in his bedroom.

That was all fantasy. Make-believe. This was his reality.

You were visibly pissed and wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Is it really so bad if she says it?” he grit out.

Your eyes widened. You scoffed.

“Of course it is, Joel!”

You backed away.

He hated seeing that, too. He hated having you move from him, not toward him, wearing that scowl on your lips as you did. His fingers twitched—itched—at his side.

“Sarah’s young. She doesn’t…mean anything by it. She’ll grow out of it soon enough. And I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You’ll hurt her even worse by not telling her the truth!” you snapped. You sounded exasperated saying it now. “We’re not a family. I’m the goddamn babysitter, and— and— you’re Sarah’s father. Act like it, for Christ’s sake.”

That set his teeth on edge.

Joel felt the urge to fight back, but narrowly refrained. He flexed his fingers, and he bit down hard to keep the vitriol at bay. Because that was exactly what fathers did. They controlled their anger; even when faced with a smart-mouthed babysitter who wore his patience out.

Even when your arms were folded over your chest in that impossibly tight, white tank, and your tits looked like they might spill from the fabric at any given moment. Joel swallowed and refocused his gaze before going on.

“Don’t tell me how to be a father.”

Something flared in your eyes.

“Why? I’m fucking right.”

“Language, young lady.”

That only seemed to irk you worse; your hands flew up.

“Yeah, well,” you started, accusing, “If we’re playing house, I might as well be allowed to say what I like.”

“We are not playing hous—”

“But you want to, right? That’s why I’m always here.”

“No, I need a—”

“Maid? Mommy?”

You paced closer. Joel’s jaw clenched.

“Obedient little housewife?” you sneered.

Your eyes were shining like two derisive pools. With every blink, you seemed to mock him more. Goad him on and beg for your reward, though you hardly knew what it was.

“C’mon, Mr. Miller,” you chided, voice low, “What is it?”

What he was, or what he’d stand to take. It wasn’t this.

“Keep runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth, I’ll show you what.”

The words flew off his tongue before he could stop them.

It was a reflex—something that had been stewing in his mind since the second you’d set foot in his room and went on provoking him. But it was wrong, of course.

He was wrong for even thinking it, much less saying it.

Now your eyes were round, and your mouth was slightly agape, and your brain was likely working a thousand miles a minute to process what had just been said.

Joel had to fix it.

“That— that ain’t—” he began, already hating himself.

To his surprise, and embarrassment, a laugh rang out.

Its sound was explosive and short. It split the air with such hot, bitter force that his words dropped off. His gaze had no choice but to remain plastered on yours.

“Oh, I bet.”

You grinned, humorless.

You didn’t appear shocked in the slightest. In fact, his remark seemed only to embolden you then, as you teased that smile wider, drew yourself closer, and tipped your chin up. You looked doubly enlivened by his last admission. Vindicated in some strange, inexplicable way. Your breaths were warm, and the swell of your breasts came to hover just inches from his chest when the last thing he needed to happen, happened between you next.

You pointed again. Joel didn’t need to look down.

“‘Don’t tell me how to be a father,’” you repeated his words from before, voice taking on a low, faux baritone.

Your amusement was clear. His cock was hard.

It seemed you’d never let the latter slip past you.

“Is that what we’re gettin’ at here, Mr. Miller?” you asked, tone now precocious. Probing, “You showing me what a great daddy you are, and me being the mommy you al—”

“No.”

Joel pushed off. He didn’t want to hear another thing.

He headed straight for the door, prepared to usher you out of it. This conversation had taken an irreparable turn.

When he reached for the handle, though, he had to stop. Your voice made him stop, echoing from the opposite end of the room. Joel turned, and he saw you on his bed.

“I’m just curious. Is that really what you meant?”

You were sitting at the foot of it, legs casually hanging off. Your look was innocent, and still more knowing than Joel could bear. The heat left to swirl in his groin nearly suffocated him below the waist, and he inhaled deeply.

“Mean what? I didn’t…mean anything.”

His touch fell from the doorknob all the same.

Your feet were swinging when he faced you completely.

“Just like you didn’t mean for Sarah to call me mommy?”

Maybe he had meant it more than he let on. He couldn’t answer. Joel felt every bit the creep he knew himself to be—decades your senior and letting you rest on his bed, soft, smooth legs kicking back and forth as he watched.

He was good at that, wasn’t he? Watching. Waiting. Aching from the comfort of his home office while he watched those filthy clips on repeat, images of you flitting through his mind at every stretch, moan, and whimper. His will was powerless to his perverted needs. He had only to defend himself against their influence by planting his feet firmly in place and refusing to move.

“You wanna teach me, though. Don’t you, daddy?”

It was as though your words reached him from another place. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind—his memory—and the tone of it stirred him. It was familiar, in ways you couldn’t have possibly understood. Unless you were living in his head, there was no way in hell you could’ve known what those lines meant to him.

‘Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.’

It made him ache.

Joel still wouldn’t move, but you could come to him.

He blinked once, and you were there. Off the bed. Walking to him. Down on your knees in front of him.

This had to be the work of his own sick imagination.

He groaned at just the sight of your smile, curving slow.

And then you peeled off your top, revealing the bright, nylon, cherry-red fabric he’d seen far too many times on his computer screen and off it—on you, by his pool. Joel sucked in a breath and shook his head, gaze darkening.

“Thought you didn’t wanna play mommy,” he growled.

If this was all just in his head, he could talk as he wanted.

“I don’t,” you answered him soberly. Suddenly, your chin was in his hand. Your eyes were still glistening up at him. “But you need to get this out of your system. Just once.”

Out of his system.

Joel was out of his fucking mind with desire.

“Just once?” His voice cracked as he said it.

Only one time. That was alright. Forgivable.

From what he half-believed to be a figment of his own perverted mind came the word from your lips: ‘Once.’

The next had the thumb that was cupping your chin slipping between those same lips. Still smiling while your mouth slid down to his knuckle. You sucked him gently.

And in just one glimpse, one fleeting second on that lone, thick thumb, the sight below him had every other obscene thing entrenched in his memory beat by a mile. You were better than everything else he’d seen or tried to dream up. You were real, he hoped, sliding your shiny wet lips up and down the surface of his skin, and when you pried them off, and you asked for his cock, he had no choice but to oblige. He had to rack his brain for words.

This was his babysitter, his daughter’s companion, his—

“Sweet fuckin’ girl,” he said when he first felt you there.

Before he even knew what became of his belt, buckle, and zip, the base of his cock was in your hand, and your lips were hovering precariously over the tip. Your breaths were soft and hot. Your graze drank him in with curiosity.

“Should I kiss you here, daddy?” Your mouth lowered.

“Right there, sweetie,” Joel breathed out.

He truly couldn’t believe it when the warmth of you enveloped his tip. When the first lick of your tongue came to collect the bead of precum sitting at the slit and he damn near bucked his hips up. You licked at it again.

And again. And again. And again.

You whimpered lightly, enjoying the taste.

The second you pulled your mouth away, Joel hissed.

“Baby, please—” he started, tone strained.

“What? Where does daddy want it?”

The question was so innocent.

It was clear you wanted to hear him guide you through it, as evidenced by the way your lips twitched at his hand smoothing down and over the crown of your head. Joel held it like he might never get this chance again, and, at once, his voice lowered along with it. He scarcely recognized himself with how gently he spoke then.

“Let daddy show you,” he said, “Open your mouth.”

And you did.

Your jaw fell slack, your lips split apart, and your eyes peered up with a wide and open stare. In a look, you seemed already to say that you trusted him to fill it.

No sight on a screen could’ve made him so hard.

He fed you an inch, eyes locked with yours as he did. His cock slid in another, and another, then stopped. He pulled back. The wetness and the warmth of your mouth nearly did him in, and the way you whined for more had him fisting your hair tight. Trying to keep his composure.

“That alright, honey? Feel…nice goin’ in?”

“Yes, daddy,” you hummed obediently.

Your mouth opened wider.

“More, please?”

Your tongue was flattened in a second. Joel slid back in, and his shaft was greeted by the slick, shiny cushion of the muscle underneath. He sank in. He invaded every inch of your mouth he could find, and he breathed out.

“Just like that, sweetie. Takin’ daddy so well.”

What little gurgles he heard stifled between your lips at that, spit drooling gently from either side, he only found more endearing. When he pulled back and saw strings of your spit trail after its path, he felt delirious. You were real, coating the whole throbbing length of his cock with your saliva and your precious soft whines, and you were sweet for him. Pliant for his cock. Jaw obliging and inviting and hanging wide open for him to fuck again.

He let you have it. He slid in once, grazed your throat, slid out again. He cupped your face in his hands and thumbed your cheeks. He coaxed your lips wider for him. You took it all well; you responded to every tender little directive from the man who was stuffing your mouth, ‘Faster now, atta girl’ and ‘Take daddy deeper’ and ‘Keep that pretty mouth open and those eyes on me.’ Joel was so caught up in the feel and the friction and the intimacy of every passing moment that he almost didn’t see when you started to shift your legs. Parting them.

And, right when the head of his cock had reached the back of your mouth and was teasing down your wet, open throat, he felt it fully: your whimpering plea.

You grinding your cunt against the toe of his boot, and peering up at him with eyes all wet, wide, and needy.

You rutted your hips. It looked like you couldn’t help it.

It seemed as though it were a mere spasm of the body that you couldn’t control—like his cock down your throat was too good for your sense or your oversexed mind to handle. He’d scarcely stirred in place when he felt you humping him, whines rippling down his length with every bob of your head as you keened for some kind of release.

Joel had never seen anything like it. He didn’t know what to say or do except stroke his hand over your scalp and pin you with a look. His cock twitched in your mouth.

“Is that how we ask to get fucked in this house?”

His tone surprised him with how steady it stayed.

Your mouth still full of him, you tried to shake your head.

What came next was more instinct than logical thought; Joel pulled you off his cock and onto your feet. His touch on your body was soft. He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his being so gentle, but every second that elapsed now seemed to demand it. He was teaching you to please. There could be no better place for kindness than here.

He’d lead you to the bed and guide you down himself. He’d tell you to open your mouth and then he would kiss it, and lick inside it. Maybe spit inside it, too. He’d tug at your bikini straps, watch your breasts give way to the pressure of the pull before bouncing right back in place. He’d take off your top. Latch his mouth around a nipple, swirl his tongue across the skin, and he’d kiss you again.

Joel did all these things, and you let him. You met him with whimpers, with wide open legs, and eventually, with your feet digging into the covers beneath you, begging, ‘Daddy, please put it in.’ Your gaze was febrile as you did.

Whether you meant it, or were simply pretending for him, gave Joel pause. Just as you’d tried to yank your jean shorts down your legs, he dropped his hands to your own. He stopped them in their path. He leaned closer.

“Do you know what you and me are about to do, hm?”

His question was barbed but sweet. Testing the waters.

Were you game to keep playing house? Did you want it?

These things mattered to Joel; whether the wetness between your legs was meant for him and him alone. Whether you needed him there, like the breath in your lungs. He wouldn’t fuck you if he wasn’t. He might feel lonely at times—desperate to feel your cunt squeeze his too-old cock like your life depended on it—but he was a man who wanted to be wanted, too. An instant of clarity hit, and suddenly he was asking it, plain and in your face:

“Do you wanna do what mommies and daddies do?”

Your mouth fell slack. Again. You nodded.

Either you were the single best actress, or you wanted it. Hoping desperately for the latter, Joel kissed the side of your face. You turned your head, quickly, and captured his lips in yours instead. You pulled him down to you.

“Like this?” you murmured, words muffled against him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and then ground your clothed lower half with his—Joel’s cock was tucked haphazardly back in his boxers, and his jeans, unzipped, hung just underneath them around his hips. He felt like a teen again, clothes thrown askew and hormones all wild.

Except he wasn’t. He was a grown man, in his own bed, with his child fast asleep down the hall. He thanked his lucky stars that their rooms were as far apart as possible, and that he no longer had to worry about the prying eyes of his mom or dad trying to catch him out after curfew. This wasn’t high school, or a night out in college, or the time a condom had split and Sarah had been conceived.

Now if he could just make sure she didn’t get a sibling…

Kidding.

“Pill,” Joel choked out, just as your legs drew him in to meet your movements, “Are— are you on the pill, or—”

Am I going to have to hit up a Texaco at 10 PM to get some rubbers and admit I haven’t gotten laid in a year?

You grinned.

“IUD.”

That works, too.

Joel probably shouldn’t have seemed so eager. He probably shouldn’t have taken your face in his hands and kissed you so hard, either. But his skin was ablaze; his eyes were wild; his limbs were molten; and his head—you didn’t want to know where it was. What he was thinking.

What he wanted to tell you while he tugged his cock back out and started working his hand up and down it. It felt too intimate, too depraved, to be spoken aloud.

Then, to his shock, you said the words yourself:

“Show me how you’d make me a mommy anyway.”

If not for protection. If not for common sense. If not for that thrumming, pulsing, warning repetition in his head: Do not get her pregnant. Do not give your kid a sibling.

But this was all pretend, wasn’t it?

Joel yanked down your shorts, practically tore them from your legs, and situated himself between them, breathing hard and fast, before he nodded his head and kissed you. With his one free hand, he held the base of his dick, and he guided it closer to your slick, puffy, aching entrance through the barrier of your red bikini. He rutted his hips.

You were bare beneath him, save for that one scrap of fabric between your lower half and his. You smiled, and you wriggled your body against his, and you drew him in. Joel groaned when he felt you slide your bottoms to the slide and let him feel, for the first time, how wet you were. How warm, inviting, and tight that cunt must be and how badly he needed it. How desperately he had to be buried inside that heat—he all but panted the words:

“Can daddy put it in?”

You spread your legs wider. You nodded.

Then he did. Without one breath of a thought to the contrary, he pushed the head of himself past the fabric, through your folds, into that wet and precious spot he’d only dreamed he’d ever feel, and he let out a full-throated moan. He felt your walls contract, heard the tender little squelch of your body making room for his length, and he damn near blew his whole load right there. You felt good.

Your chest rose with a breath, and your eyes widened.

Like you hadn’t just had him down your throat, drenched in your spit and gliding in and out: “He’s so big, daddy.”

Joel’s lips kissed your cheek. His tip kissed your cervix. You whined a little, and he pulled you in closer to him.

“I know, honey, I know,” he cooed, rocking you with the softest motions, “Ain’t that what mommy likes, though?”

Your lips parted again. A strangled whine of assent slid out, just as his hips withdrew himself back to that shiny, bulbous head, and then he fucked back in. Back and forth, back and forth, Joel sent your body bouncing with every thrust. He felt you clench, and the strokes sped up.

The bed creaked underneath. It seemed to shake the whole room. In truth, there wasn’t a thought in Joel’s head except for the ones relating to you and how good you took his cock, but somewhere, not far off, there was the instinct of a father idling too. With every stab of the headboard against the wall and every moan of yours under him he had to smother with his lips, he was reminded you two had to be quiet. He leaned in.

Grazing your ear with a stubbled chin, and fucking you gently into his bed, Joel sank his weight even lower.

“Can mommy stay real quiet for daddy? Can she try?”

From the way your eyes were glazed, he expected you to nod. And you did, just barely, heels digging in the mound of his ass and your fingers finding his sides. But then you slid a touch up his ribs; you squeezed the flesh. You let him pound your cunt for a few more precious seconds, and just when he thought that was the end of it, you tilted your head to him. Your nose bumped his, and you grinned, flashing the single most pretty, fucked-out look.

“Feels like a fucking dream, daddy,” you breathed.

Joel balked. He almost stopped right then and there.

Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!

Oh.

You couldn’t have known that.

There was no shot you knew where the fuck those words were from. Or what they meant. Joel furrowed his brow and kept rutting his hips, hands tightening in the sheets beside your head as the scene from his naughty all-time favorite film flickered briefly through his mind. No shot.

Then your legs wound around the backs of his even tighter, and your eyes were all but shining with a fresh, twisted glint. With a measured tone, you went on for him:

“He’s so big, daddy. Feels so good going inside me.”

You even mimicked her tone. Joel paled above you.

His hips stalled a moment, and your cunt hugged him tight. Your teeth nipped at his chin, playfully, and before he could even try to speak again, your lips were there.

At his ear, whispering what he’d dreaded hearing most.

“You should really clear those PornHub searches after you’re done. Or at least lock your office while I’m here.”

Joel’s thrusts stopped completely.

He was about to search for his voice again, when your walls clamped down around him, and his vision went swimming. His cock pulsed inside you, and he groaned.

Then his hips picked up; it wasn’t a conscious decision. He just needed to fuck, needed to finish, needed to see the light twinkle and burst behind your eyes while he stuffed your cunt full. It didn’t matter what you knew—your lips were curled in such a sweet, smug smile below him, there was likely no use in trying to explain himself now. Joel just gritted his teeth, and he tried smiling back. He fucked you faster, and harder, than he’d done before.

When you clawed at his back, the pace grew merciless. Every inch of the space around him, it seemed, was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, whimpers, and moans. As before, Joel almost didn’t recognize his voice.

‘That so?’ was all it could manage to get out at present.

With your cunt fluttering repeatedly, hips rolling with his own, and those lips letting moans spill out one after the next, it was all he could do to try to keep his composure.

Joel kissed you, and then he flipped your body around. He moved back to find the headboard and rest himself against it, got your legs straddling his, and slid you down

Down, down, down on his cock. Stretching you out. Then moving you back up again. Making you bounce in his lap and have your hands fumble to find his shoulders. You squeezed his biceps and moaned, and at the same time, his slick-smeared lower half rutted to greet yours. Your essence drenched him; he could feel it soak straight through the black-and-gray hairs at the base of his cock.

You looked perfect like this—better than any girl on camera could’ve been. Your hips rolled, and you moaned while sliding up and down on his dick, again and again. Joel felt the trembling pulse through your body and his, groaned at the grip of your cunt around him, and helped you ride him. With one hand at the small of your back and the other cupping your face, he held you close to him. Your pace quickened, and the hand at your chin made its way to your throat, to hold you firmly there.

Joel had a thumb on your pulse and his eyes raking over your writhing form when he felt compelled to talk again.

Share a truth, since all the rest was coming out anyway.

He didn’t think so much as feel it flow from there, like the blood rushing through his veins. Joel winced at a fresh influx of pleasure and let you grind on him twice more. Then he was gripping you tighter, fucking up into you harder, and he was skimming his teeth along your skin. As a knot coiled deep within his stomach, he let it out:

“Wanna cum inside this pussy, baby. Fill her up with me.”

The head of his cock struck a dizzying blow to someplace close to your cervix, and you held him tighter.

“Yeah, Mr. Miller?” You couldn’t help the teasing tone.

You fought a breathless laugh, then were forced to suck in a gasp of air just as quick; his length sheathed itself inside you completely, and Joel’s grip constricted on your throat. He kissed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth while he fucked up into you, again and again.

You whined, and he mumbled against you, “That’s right.”

You hissed at him deep in your guts, and he went on:

“Gonna stuff her full. Make her wet and messy and drippin’ with me. Show mommy how much daddy lov—”

He cut himself short. His balls were heavy, full, and ready to paint you white, but that line was a touch too far, even now. He couldn’t say it outright and not sound like a fucking creep, no matter how deep in this roleplay you happened to be. Joel squeezed your hips and grunted.

And, for what felt like the fifteenth time that night, you surprised him. Your chin tilted to his, your lips brushed against his mouth, and you smiled, again. It was tender.

“How much does daddy love me, hm? Show me.”

Your walls clenched at the end of the last sentence, and Joel couldn’t help but groan in your mouth. His eyes lifted to yours, and in your gaze, he found anything but incredulity—you already knew what he felt, somehow.

“Sarah tell you that, too? That I love you?” he growled.

He’d said it once. At the time, he hadn’t thought he’d meant it at all, but the words just sounded so good when it came to you. Sarah had asked him if he’d wanted you to be her mommy someday, if he loved you like a daddy loves a mommy, and he’d said he did. Looking back, it hadn’t felt half as good as it did right now: peering into your eyes, feeling your warmth swallow him whole, and sensing you were nearing your climax, all because of him. It made him want to say it over again, now face-to-face.

Be it roleplay, fantasy, fixation—he needed to say it now.

“Daddy does love you,” he went on, before you could even respond. His pelvis rutted against yours, and his gaze stayed steeped in desire as he felt you grip harder, “Loves you so damn much he wants to stuff a big load in that pretty little cunt. Make you his. That alright by you?”

Your gaze went blank in an instant. Your lips twitched.

Something delectably wet, tight, and far too tempting shuddered someplace inside you, and with pride, Joel sensed the remnants of it leak out and smear his tummy. You liked that idea. Still, you seemed hesitant as your teeth snagged your bottom lip between them. You drew one steadying breath, and you slowed your movements.

“I’ve never…had that,” you admitted quietly.

Then that sticky-sweet embrace your cunt held him in got even wetter. Like your mind wasn’t fully on-board, but your body was all in. You were close, by the feel of it.

But Joel would only give what you were fully ready to take. At length, he lowered one hand to the small of your back, and his thumb rubbed at the skin. He let you feel him in only the shallowest of strokes, bouncing you softly

“Ain’t gotta be inside, then,” he murmured, assuring, “I’ll shoot this load wherever mommy tells me to go, alright?”

That made you whimper.

From there, your mind seemed to be decided all at once.

“Cum inside. I-I want it.”

Joel swallowed thickly.

“You sure, sugar? I can—”

Suddenly, your hips were stirring. They started up quicker than before, and your hand was swift to plant itself flat on his chest, as though to stabilize yourself.

“Cum. In. Me.”

It was the most decisive, and desperate, you’d sounded all night. Your gaze flitted to his, and in it, he saw a plea.

With a look like that, Joel knew he couldn’t make you wait. He wouldn’t make you wait. Trying not to smirk as he did, he leaned in and kissed you, and felt you drip more arousal as something knotted in your belly. He smoothed your hair away and delivered the gentlest thrusts from below—he knew it wouldn’t take much.

“Mama goes first,” he prodded. He felt you tense, and clench, and leak a little more down his front, and when the head of cock nicked a soft ridge, he groaned, too. “Cum for daddy now and he’ll give you his load, OK?”

Then his touch slipped between your legs. You keened.

“Daddy, I—” you hiccuped, grip tightening like a vice when his thumb found your clit and started rubbing.

Joel circled faster.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

“I can’t,” you cried, “Feels too—”

Good. Your body seemed to finish for you.

It started with a pulse. Then a pinch. A trickling warmth. Joel hardly knew what else to do but keep rubbing that little pearl between your folds, even when you started to gush around his hand. It wet his tummy; it drenched all the hairs around the base of his cock, and still, he kept thumbing your clit and rocking you back and forth above him. He let you cry out and bite his shoulder while your climax tore through you, and though he knew you had to be quiet, he couldn’t help but relish the sound. He smiled

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Give it to daddy.”

And, while he also told you to keep breathing and let him have it all, he was right here—in a matter of seconds, he was slipping off, too. He couldn’t hope to try and stop it. With one more pulse of your walls, you groaned and got your wet, spent, needy hole stuffed full of him, just how you’d asked. Joel flooded your insides with his seed and kept you fucked straight down to the hilt so he wouldn’t see a drop of himself escape. He hugged you tight and heard you whine at that primal sensation, getting pumped with rope after rope of his cum, then he felt your limbs go limp. Joel kissed the side of your face. He cradled you, held you securely in place, and let the last of his spend paint your walls in a couple more gentle spurts

When it was over, he stroked your back. He sensed the aftershocks of your climax pass through your tired frame, and he made sure not to rock you too hard against him. He just wanted you to feel that he was there, if the heft of his cum and his cock still deep inside you wasn’t enough.

His head grew clearer, too. While still drawing short, ragged breaths in time, he managed to find the words that had evaded him before—what he should’ve said.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled into your hair.

You just nuzzled your face deeper.

“Don’t be.”

“But I—”

Then you tilted your head—enough for your gaze to meet with his, briefly, and tell him all that he needed to hear.

“You’re a good dad, Joel.”

He opened his mouth, but you were already pressing on.

“And I don’t…mind if Sarah calls me what she wants for now. I’m sure you’ll find someone great to be her mom someday, and then this whole thing won’t even matter.”

For some reason, the sound of it made Joel wince.

He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but he knew he didn’t want you thinking that. His grip constricted around you.

“No,” he muttered, indistinct. Defiant.

“No?”

You almost laughed.

It was insane, admittedly—just last night he’d been dreaming of the feel of you in the grip of his fist, wishing for nothing but his own release and a fleeting thought of your body underneath him, and here he was, doing this.

You’d said it was a one-and-done deal, and maybe it was.

But for him, maybe, it wasn’t. He’d be remiss not to try.

If you shot him down and left him to pine and meander through the manifold archives of PornHub for the rest of his horny life, that would be alright. At least he had tried.

With these thoughts thrumming through his brain, Joel was about to pull you closer and venture to speak again, when, for the second time, his words were cut short. His voice was presently supplanted by a sound that startled you both, and in a moment, he recognized what it was.

A knock.

“Da-a-a-a-a-a-addy?”

Shit.

He nearly caught a knee to the gut with how quickly you tried scrambling off his lap, limbs revived and frantic and desperate to get your clothes back on before that tiny voice could resume its speech—or get a hand to the door

“Yeah, sweetie? Give— give daddy a—” ‘Fuck!’ he cursed under his breath as he tripped over your shorts on the floor, “—a minute. I’ll be right there. Just gimme a sec.”

Joel fell. You floundered. His hand snagged the edge of the bed before he hit the ground fully, while you set off across the room to fight the strings of your bikini top and wrestle the thing on. The second you sensed that battle was lost, you grabbed your shirt instead. You were just yanking it on, and Joel was just regaining his bearings and about to chuck your shorts your way, when a voice through the door stopped the two of you cold—again.

To your horror, it was hopeful. Too sweet to be real.

“Can I sleep with you and mommy tonight?”

You could’ve soundly beat Joel’s ass with that pretty, skimpy swimsuit in your grasp and not regretted a thing, if he had to guess by the look you were flashing him now.

He didn’t blame you. His hands shot up in silent defense.

“Mommy— mommy’s not here, honey. She went home.” Joel shortly tried, and failed, to keep the pretense of innocence alive, all while dodging the first swing of your bikini’s bra at his head. He ducked; you struck a lamp.

He jumped back, a wordless grin stretching his lips as he righted that fixture fast. With one look, it seemed to say:

I’m so, so sorry, baby.

But inside his head, he couldn’t help but admit this was a little bit funny. Probably sensing this, you swung again.

“Yes, she is! I heard her,” Sarah huffed outside.

Joel was sliding up his jeans. Apologizing with his eyes and also trying not to crack an even bigger smile at you.

“Don’t be silly, Sar—”

“You’re having a sleepover!” she accused.

Well, in a manner of speaking.

Joel had just buckled his belt and redid his zip when a flash of red nylon smacked him in the face. Playfully.

You were evidently beginning to fight a grin like his, dropping the feigned indignation and pacing closer.

“Sleeping my ass—” you started in a whisper.

And you were about to chase him again, or else propose jumping from the window to get out now and save face, maybe, when Joel felt an old, familiar feeling crop up inside him. Like before, it wasn’t the kind of urge he could fight; his instincts took over, and he did it swiftly.

Admittedly, the timing was terrible—but he kissed you.

He pressed his lips to your own and relished the feeling. He grabbed both sides of your face and walked you back to the bed—the same one drenched in sweat and your release, which he’d definitely need to change in a minute—and for a fleeting moment, it was all he needed. Your mouth was on his, grinning a little and promising silently that if Sarah ever does walk in on us, I’m gonna kill you.

Against his better judgment, he pushed you back on the bed. He dropped his weight over your body and kept the kiss ongoing, feeling need surge inside for something far beyond the physical. It couldn’t be ‘one-and-done’ here.

But for now, at least, in spite of his feelings, it had to be.

Joel didn’t want to let go or stop kissing, but the next second left no room for much else, unfortunately. His daughter’s voice returned, and the words that followed proved impossible to ignore, for either one of you then.

All color drained from his face, and your eyes widened.

“I heard mommy screaming before. Is she alright?”

[millermouth]

Cherry Picker 🍒

summary: You'd survived twenty years without much thought for romance. But Jackson was safe, and safety had a way of making people act in strange ways—priorities change, rumors spread. Which happens to be how you uncover your patrol partner's best kept secret. || smut MDNI 18+ virginity loss, virginity kink, age gap (reader is 25, joel is in his 50s), jackson!joel, unnamed best friend, dual pov, drinking, nervous!reader, prudish!reader, virgin!reader, overthinking, swearing, pinv, kissing, like nasty kissing hell yeah, grinding, joel teaching you how to take 🍆, he talks you through it, f!receiving oral, handjob, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, joel refers to himself as daddy, some pussy pronouns used, Joel We'll-Make-It-Fit Miller || a/n: my fellow freaks will understand. is joel kind of a perv for this? suuuure. but it's hot and consensual so who cares :)

wc: 11k sry

You, now

Your hand was practically shaking off its hinges by the time you lifted your knuckles to the wooden door.

You blamed the freezing temperature as you gathered your courage. Just the cold. The porch light buzzed faintly overhead, casting a weak yellow ring around the doorframe. It made the wood look darker than usual, older. Maybe it had always looked like that. Maybe you were just seeing it differently tonight. You glanced down at your shoes. Snow was really caked around the rubber soles, slush seeping in through the canvas seams, dampening your socks. You weren’t entirely sure if you still had toes anymore; they were so numb. Just the cold, you told yourself again, that was why you were trembling so badly. Just the fact that Jackson’s first winter storm decided to roll in the exact same morning you decided to… well…

Adjusting your stance instead, you smoothed a wrinkle in your coat, then reached up, but dropped your hand again.

Ridiculous. You were acting absolutely ridiculous. It’s not like you were some lost kid on a stranger’s porch. You knew this man. You’d walked patrols with him, ate silent breakfasts across from him before said patrols at the mess hall, both of you always quiet with each other. A comfortable quiet you’d enjoyed, actually. And you’d been to his house before—once, last spring, when you’d offered to trade him the coffee beans some folks had passed through town with. In exchange, he’d carved you a little likeness of your favorite mare from the stables, sanded smooth and small enough to fit in your palm. You’d thanked him twice, though he’d just nodded once, gruff as ever. 

But that had been broad daylight. And this was… 

Before you could talk yourself out of it again, before you could check the stitch in your glove a third time or flatten the nonexistent wrinkle in your coat, you lifted your knuckles and quickly rapped on the door. 

Nothing happened. 

You supposed that was normal. It’s not like he’d be waiting on the other side of the door for you. He wasn’t expecting anyone, at least you’d hoped. So you stared at the grain in the wood, the little green wreath hanging there, memorizing the leaves and pine needles that decorated the braided branches, and then—

You heard the footsteps, quiet and shuffling, but heavy on the other side. Your stomach dipped as they grew closer. You knew the sound of them by heart, etched in your mind as the sound of safety. Camaraderie.  They followed behind you on trails, echoed in supply rooms, paused beside you at the watch post just before he would offer you the last thermos of coffee.

Your mouth was dry. You licked your bottom lip without thinking and immediately cursed at yourself—chapped. You’d forgotten balm. You never forgot your lip balm.

The footsteps stopped just on the other side.

You held your breath.

You, before

It had started—as many bad ideas do—in the Tipsy Bison one Friday night. 

The place was humming with music and chatter, the lowlights of sconces bringing an amber warmth to every surface. Someone was playing a Fleetwood Mac song on their acoustic guitar, a gentle strumming meeting your ears across the way. A couple men just off patrol were clinking pints a little half-heartedly after a long day out in the early winter frost at the bar. Someone had lit a fire in the hearth, a loud crackle punctuating the room now and again, and you could feel the heat rising in soft waves against your back from where you sat.

And beside you, smug as ever with a grin on her lips, cheeks flushed from her whiskey sour, was your best friend. Her glass was sweating onto the wooden table beside her, and her fingers tapped lightly against the rim as she watched you. 

You knew that look. You had a complicated relationship with that look. Secrets, trouble, you name it. Whenever she had a drink or two in her and she looked at you like that, you knew something was afoot. And usually it involved her over-interest in your love life. Or… lack thereof.

“I’m just saying,” she drawled, dragging her words out with that infuriating mix of innocence and glee, “if you’re so worried about it being awkward the first time, there are options. Experienced options.”

You made a face, tugging at the sleeve of your cardigan, already regretting letting her steer the conversation this way. “Like who? There isn’t exactly a whole sea of fish to choose from here. Half these people are partnered up and have kids now. And I swear, these guys born during the outbreak have zero game. ”

She let out a cackle. “Uh-huh. Like little five-year-old you really learned anything before the world went to shit.”

“Okay, fine. Enlighten me, oh wise one.” You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, lilting up, amused. 

She leaned in, elbow creaking against the table, voice suddenly lower. “Do you know who took mine?”

You tensed. “Oh my god. Please don’t do this to me. I don’t want to know, I really—”

“Joel Miller.”

You nearly choked. You did choke, actually, spluttering on the air you’d inhaled, spit gone down the wrong lung. A few people around you turned to glance in concern as your hand went to cover your open mouth. “What!?”

She grinned wide, completely unbothered. “Don’t get all worked up! He’s hot.”

“Joel?” you hissed, voice already pitching with disbelief. “My Joel—but he’s—he’s my…he’s my patrol partner!”

“Your grumpy, brooding, carved-from-stone, sexy patrol partner,” she corrected smoothly, nodding. “Yep. That one. It was a little over a year ago, I was still kinda new to town. I don’t even remember how it started. But it’s like… a thing,” she insisted, her voice dropping again as she scanned the room conspiratorily. “His thing. He’s like Jackson’s Cherry Picker.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

She nodded, lips twitching around the rim of her glass. “I’m serious. I’d heard rumors, okay? I was so desperate to get rid of this… this thing that made me feel like I had a target on my back. Like hello! Town virgin over here!” she laughed as you covered her ever-growing loud mouth, and she quieted down, waving you off, “and then one girl told me he’d done the favor for her and her friend. I don’t know. He was really sweet though. He did this thing with his tongue and—”

You slapped your hands over your ears. “Oh my god, stop, I don’t want to hear any more—”

She laughed loudly and downed her drink, “Okay, miss prude. I’m just sayin’, if you could choose anyone, I’d go with him. Haven’t you ever wondered? Haven’t you guys gotten stuck out there together and had to cuddle up real close, and oh no, there was only one bed!”

You rolled your eyes, “Actually, we tend to be just fine thank you. Joel takes good care of us if we’re—”

She was grinning, teeth gleaming, her brows doing a ridiculous little dance.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, tossing a napkin at her across the table, trying to ignore the way your heart was thudding just a little faster than before.

Because the truth was—yes. 

You had wondered.

You, now

And then, the door was opening. 

A thick hand appeared first, resting on the wood as it pulled inward. The rest of him followed a beat later, somehow even broader, taller than you remembered. Barefoot, in sweatpants and a flannel sleep shirt that hung open at the collar. His hair was mussed like he’d just come from rest, or something close to it. It felt too intimate. 

“Mr. Miller—” you started, and immediately winced. “Joel. Hi. I—sorry, maybe this was… I might’ve picked a bad time.”

“S’alright, darlin’,” he said, voice low, rough from disuse. “Took me by surprise is all. What can I do for ya?”

You opened your mouth and promptly forgot how to speak.

Because how the hell were you supposed to explain this? That your best friend had told you between giggles and sips of her second whiskey about the favor he offered. That there were girls, maybe a few, maybe more than a few, who’d come before you for the same thing. That you were here asking for something he offered unbeknownst to most, passed along in rumors and blushing confessions. Never outwardly known or spoken of, but something only understood by the women who’d needed it once. Was it only once? And what did that make them to him, exactly? They weren’t partners, that much was clear. Not flings, either, at least you didn’t think so. He never talked about having partners or girlfriends. He probably wouldn’t even if given the chance. 

You wondered if he remembered them individually, or if they blurred together to him. God, what if he thought of them like a collection—trophies he’d caught and taken first place, people he’d…he’d conquered? What would it mean for your relationship going forward? The patrols that were usually comfortable and easy, would they be suddenly full of awkward silences, or worse, would he refuse to patrol with you at all?

There was a little smile spreading across his face at how god damn red you must’ve been turning. 

“S’a bit cold out there, ain’t it? All this snow.” he said, looking around outside, hazel eyes gleaming in the soft light, “Why don’t you come on in.” he offered, opening the door wider, spreading his hand out welcomingly into his abode. 

“Okay,” you barely managed.

Stepping inside, you felt more like an intruder than ever. The warmth hit you first, thick with the smell of firewood and something faintly herbal in the air. The hearth was already going, the flames crackling in a steady rhythm, casting deep shadows across the living room. A pair of reading glasses sat neatly on top of a copy of An Idiot’s Guide to Space on the side table, the title catching the light just enough to be legible.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Joel said, voice low and even, his hand brushing lightly against your back as he guided you forward. “I’ll get ya somethin’ to drink.”

You nodded but couldn’t speak, your mouth still dry, throat tight. Your body moved before your thoughts could catch up, sinking onto the couch opposite his recliner. The cushions gave easily beneath you, soft and lived in. The heat of the fire reached your skin slowly, unthawing your face, your toes, the stiffness along your spine that hadn’t unclenched since you’d stepped onto his porch. You took your time peeling off your gloves and setting them aside, pins and needles prickling the tips of them as they warmed beside the heat.

He returned a minute later, though you didn’t notice him right away—your eyes fixed on the fire, the way it danced behind the grate, and your mind had gone thin and fast with thoughts you couldn’t quite hold down. You startled only slightly when he appeared beside you and set the mug into your hands. It was tan, with a little owl stamped on the front. You stared at it for a long moment before lifting it to your mouth. Lemon and honey with a sprig of cinnamon. Your  favorite. 

You swallowed the first sip slowly, letting it move through you, letting the heat settle low in your stomach like you could track its path through every nerve. You tried to focus on that instead of everything else.

Across from you, Joel groaned softly as he eased into his chair. It wasn’t reclined now as he leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, mug balanced in both hands as he took a sip.

“Everythin’ okay?” he asked, eyes on you now.

“What?” you squeaked, then cleared your throat before continuing, “Oh, yeah, yeah, everything is fine.”

He kept looking at you, quiet, and you worried you’d turn red again before he lowered his gaze to the tea in his hands and gave a small nod, like he didn’t fully believe you but wasn’t going to press. “You just seem a little nervous, is all. Somethin’ happen?”

You shook your head and turned away, not wanting to meet his eyes. The lemon peel floated in a lazy spiral near the rim of your cup, and the rising steam pressed gently against your face, a kind of soft shield between you and whatever came next. You still held yourself stiffly, spine straight, shoulders squared like you were bracing for something, though you kept reminding yourself there was no reason to. This was Joel. You’d spent more time with him out of anyone, even your own best friend. You knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was a good man.

You took another sip. Then another.

“I just…” you began, the words thick in your throat. You exhaled, tried again. “I heard a rumor.”

Joel let out a short huff of amusement, his shoulders shifting as he leaned back more comfortably into the chair. “Oh yeah? What’s goin’ around the rumor mill these days?”

You watched him settle in, the way his hands stayed on the mug even as he relaxed. For a second, you wondered if he’d actually been worried. If he thought something had happened to you. If he’d been ready to help.

“It’s probably nothing,” you said quickly. “Just… something someone mentioned.”

He didn’t say anything.

You glanced up, half-hoping he’d read your mind. Maybe he’d say it first. Maybe he’d change the subject entirely and save you from the humiliation of asking him to take your virginity. But no, he was still watching you, still waiting, his face calm, unreadable in the firelight.

You looked away again.

“I guess I just—I heard that you… help people. Sometimes.”

There was a pause, only joined by a quiet sound as he set his mug down. You heard the shift of fabric, the creak of the recliner beneath him. When you looked up again, he’d settled back, legs spread slightly, one hand resting on the arm of the chair. Still composed, still listening.

“Help how?” he asked, but the tone had changed, lower now. Softer, careful and measured. Like he was giving you the space to choose your words. Like he already knew which ones were coming. He must’ve known, after all. He had to. Maybe he wanted to see you squirm.

You swallowed.

“Girls,” you said, and your voice nearly cracked, not from emotion but from how tightly you were holding yourself together. “Women, I mean. I heard that sometimes, if someone’s… nervous, or if it’s their… that you’re… that you’ve helped.”

There. It was out, more or less. Maybe a few words left unsaid, but it was there now, between you. A live wire, humming, waiting.

Joel didn’t lean back, didn’t shift, didn’t even glance away. He was just staring at you, barely blinking or moving. And then, after a long enough pause that you nearly opened your mouth again just to fill it, he spoke.

“Are you askin’ me somethin’, darlin’?”

You swallowed again, willing your courage, forcing the up and down of your head, nodding at him, eyes glued to his face, watching his expression. 

“I’m gonna need to hear you say it,” he told you, softly and without judgement, “And then we can talk about it.”

You set the mug down with careful hands, fingers lingering along the rim like they weren’t quite ready to let go. Your palms found each other in your lap, squeezing once, then flattening against your thighs. Courage, you told yourself. Be brave. You were twenty-five, for God’s sake. Frontal lobe fully developed, capable of decision-making, of risk, of owning the weight of your own choices. You’d killed infected, harvested crops, patched up fences, pulled your weight in every way that counted in Jackson. You’d grown up out of necessity, carried yourself through the years without needing anyone to hold your hand.

This shouldn’t have to be so hard. But it was. And still…this was the moment. You could feel it waiting there in the silence between you.

So you sat up a little straighter. Pressed your palms into your legs, just for the feeling of grounding, and tried to be brave.

“I’m asking you to take my virginity, Joel.” 

You did your best to sound determined, sure of yourself, some small reserve of confidence rising as you looked at him, eyes locked on his face. You furrowed your brow to keep yourself from faltering, zipped your mouth shut to keep yourself from over-explaining, even though every part of you wanted to fill the silence. But the plain and simple truth of it laid bare between you now. 

After a long moment of sitting there like that, the two of you watching each other carefully, he finally spoke.

“Why?”

The question caught you off guard. Your face faltered, your fingers tightened against your thighs, unsure you’d heard him right.

“W–Why?”

He nodded, very serious now. 

You hesitated. “Because… don’t you? I heard you… you do this thing. For women.”

“But why do you want it?”

Your face burned. You weren’t sure if it was the fire in the hearth or the question or how quiet the room had gotten now, but suddenly you could feel the heat rising into your scalp, behind your ears, into the hollows of your throat. Your fingers were tangled in your lap again, squeezing one hand with the other like you could press the answer into your skin.

You sat up a little straighter, and let your hands fall still once again. Brave. Be brave. 

“Because I don’t want it to be careless,” you said, “I don’t want it to feel like something I just let happen. And I don’t want to be with someone who only cares about what they’re getting out of it.”

You looked at him then, made yourself hold his gaze.

“I’ve waited a long time. And it hasn’t really been on purpose, but now that I’m here, I don’t want it to be meaningless. I want it to feel… like I chose it. Like I chose the right person.”

You felt your chest tighten. Your heart wouldn’t stop moving around inside you like it was trying to warn you of something, but it was too late for that.

“I trust you,” you said, quieter now, the truest thing you’ve ever said. “I think I trust you more than anyone else in the world.”

Joel let out a long breath, the kind that sounded like it had been sitting on his chest this whole time. He looked away from you then, toward the fireplace, the orange glow flickering against the lines in his face. One hand rubbed slowly against his knee, the heel of his palm dragging in a steady circle, over and over, like it helped him sort through whatever was moving behind his eyes.

You didn’t dare say anything.

You watched him, studied him. He was so handsome, after all. And something had changed, not that he had, not really. He was the same man who walked beside you on patrols, who shared granola bars and poured your coffee before his own. He checked your boots before a long route. Adjusted your gaiter once without asking, gloved fingers gentle against your jaw. You’d always chalked these things up to kindness, to the sort of responsibility a man like Joel Miller shouldered without complaint. But now, sitting here in his home, the fire warming your skin and the tension curling thick between you, you didn’t know how you’d ever seen them as simple gestures.

Your eyes traced the slope of his nose, the graying in his beard, how his hair had grown longer this winter and streaked with more silver. His thick fingers moved slowly against the fabric of his sweatpants, flexing, working some silent thought through his palm. You remembered those hands—gripping the handle of his revolver, steady and unshakable. Reaching back to stop you short with a firm grip at your elbow. Pushing you behind him when an infected got too close, machete already raised in his other hand, swinging hard through mold-thick bone. He’d protected you more times than you could count. And it had always felt… safe. Never like a performance. He didn’t ask for gratitude. He just... did it.

And then a thought struck you again, unwelcome, as you watched him—what if he said no? Could things ever go back to the way they were before? This was a line, a big one that you were crossing now. You didn’t know how to take it back, not now that you’d looked him in the eye and asked for something you’d barely ever admit to yourself was a want, not a need. You weren’t sure what you’d done, only that there was no coming back now. 

You weren’t afraid of him. But you were afraid of what this all meant, how different it felt now that he knew.

But still, you wouldn’t look away.

He sat there for a long time, staring into the fire. And then finally, he turned back to you. His eyes found yours, steady, clear.

“Okay,” he said.

Joel, now

Joel didn’t have very many rules left that he hadn’t broken.

He’d repented for his sins, said his sorries—more or less—and moved on. He knew there were still notches on his soul, marks he’d carry to the grave, but he held fast to a few rules he’d made for himself, lines he’d drawn in the sand and did his damndest not to step over. He liked what he did, took a special liking to the women who came to him, nervous, wide-eyed, asking for something they didn’t want to get from someone careless. It was never more than they bargained for, never more than they asked for. But he still enjoyed it.

He was open to just about anyone that came around, regardless if they were twenty or fifty, as long as they asked kindly and seemed like they were doing it for a reason that made sense. Not that it really mattered—if they were offering, he was taking. And he loved to take. Selfish, he knew that about himself by now. And still, he loved it.

But here he was, crossing the last line he’d drawn a few springs back, back when he first met you in Jackson.

You were the exception. Always.

From the beginning, he’d known he wouldn’t touch you, not in that way. No matter how much he wanted to. And he did, God, he did. Dreamed of you, thought of you, let his mind go places it shouldn’t, wondered how you’d taste, how you’d sound, what you'd look like beneath him. And on the nights when patrol took too long, when you had to share a tent or squeeze into the corner of some half-collapsed building, curled up together in the cold, your breath ghosting against his neck—he’d nearly lose his mind with your closeness and sweet scent. 

He wouldn’t take from you. He told himself you were off limits. You were so sweet, so good. He didn’t even realize you were a virgin, truth be told. And it sure didn’t help the way you were mustering up your courage in front of him, all doe eyed and nervous and trusting. But no, Joel never wanted to take this from you. Or anything, for that matter. All he ever wanted was to give. He always gave you the last sip of water or coffee, the last strip of jerky and the better seat when the fire got too smokey. He even made you that little horse out of pine because you kept choosing her for patrols, and you’d wept when it was her last ride before her retirement. He liked doing things like that for you. Liked to give. He would not take.

Joel would see you around with your best friend—hell, he’d picked her, when she came asking. She took as she wanted and went on her way, same as the rest. He saw you hanging around Jesse too, and that’s when he really had to keep himself in check. But when he brought it up one day, asked about it quietly on the trail, you’d brushed him off. You’d told him Jesse wasn’t your type. Joel remembered the way something small and mean and smug had sparked in his chest when you said it, right before the bigger wave of guilt rolled in. 

But here you were now. 

Looking like that. Fidgeting like hell, eyes darting around, nervous in a way he’d never seen before. It rattled him when you’d appeared on his porch. His first thought had been that someone hurt you. That something bad had happened. He was already halfway to grabbing the shovel by the door, ready to ask where the body was. Anything you asked, he’d do it. He knew he would. No question. 

And then you’d come out with the real reason you were here. 

It took you some coaxing, sure, you were nervous and trembling like a trapped fawn in a wolf’s maw. And once the words were out his blood surged before he could control himself. He had to breathe, distract himself, try to collect his thoughts and put them into neat little boxes before the wrong one burst open and he scared you off. He needed to be careful. He needed to think about what it would mean to break that last rule. If it would ruin what the two of you had, if you would look at him differently. If you’d regret it. 

But the truth was already there, pounding its way through his chest. He’d known the second you said the words that he didn’t give two shits about those rules. 

That was the last clear thought he had before he turned to you and said, “Okay.”

He watched your eyes widen, watched your tongue sweep across your bottom lip, and the last thread of his control nearly split just then.

“Okay?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He nodded, lifted his hand, palm up, a quiet invitation.

You hesitated, only for a second, then stood with that same purposeful grace you always carried when you moved ahead on a patrol. Not rushed or uncertain. Chosen. Like your feet knew where to go before your head did. You crossed the room slowly, your breath held, and when your soft hand found his, it was like some invisible thread finally went taut.

Joel tugged you gently between his knees, both of your hands in his. He looked up at you like he wasn’t sure this part was real. The warmth of you so close, the gentle weight of your fingers resting in his, how your fingers still trembled.

“Are you sure?” he asked, breathless, quiet. He needed to be soft and gentle, your sweet face so pretty with how it was looking at him now, sure of yourself, but still nervous. 

You nodded, your thumbs tracing the thick of his knuckles. It made his skin pebble in goosebumps. 

“Usually when someone asks,” he murmured, “I make ‘em wait.”

He had to get through this part. Had to muzzle himself back into control, to know for certain. As much as he wanted to take, he would be good for you. For you, for you. Always for you. Like prayer, like penance, like something sacred in his keeping.

“Why?” you asked, quiet as a mouse, your brows furrowing. You really were adorable. Sweet enough to eat.

“To make sure they ain’t ovulatin’,” he said, and the line was meant to tease, but his voice came out tighter than he wanted. “Don’t need any mini-Joels walkin’ around, do we?”

He tried to smile, but thought it probably looked more like a leer, animal in the way his teeth shown in the firelight. 

Oh, was all you seemed to manage. 

Joel exhaled slow, like he could let some of the heat in him go that way, like he hadn’t just undone every restraint he’d spent years building. His hands slid up your arms, slow and steady, your sweater sleeves in the way. He wanted to feel you, your skin, your heat. He’d make himself wait.

“Don’t think I can do that with you, though,” he said, voice gone quiet again, “Been waitin’ a long time for this, baby.”

Your gaze flicked to his, searching. “You have?”

He nodded, “Christ, it’s all I’ve ever thought about.”

There was a long moment of quiet, of only the crack of the fire. As if waiting. Both of you, waiting for the other, held in the suspended moment before everything changed.

“I think about you too.” you confessed then, “All the time, Joel.”

The leash on the beast in him flew from his hands, and he was squeezing your arms harder, pulling you down into his lap. You yelped at the sudden movement, and it made him force himself to soften again, coaxing, to be gentle with his hands. He smoothed them up and down your arms, though the closeness of your thighs bracketing his turned his brain to mush. 

“I’m sorry, don't be scared, I’m sorry,” Gentle, be gentle, he scolded himself, “It’s just…you think about me, huh?” He cooed. “What do you think about, baby?”

You were nibbling at your lip again, eyes flicking down like you didn’t know what to do with yourself now that you’d said it aloud. He caught your hands and pulled them to his chest, pressing them flat so you could feel the thud of his heart beneath your palms.

“You can touch me, darlin’,” he said, almost a whisper. “It’s okay if I touch you?”

You nodded, wordlessly, eyes eager in their nervousness.

His hand reached up, careful, and brushed a piece of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear, taking his time.

“So tell me,” he said again, “what you think about.”

Your voice came soft and certain. “Kissing you.”

His breath faltered, fingers twitching against your cheek, forcing them down and to settle on your hips. Something deep in his chest raged against his ribs  to be let out—this was the night, he was sure of it now, the night he finally snapped, lost every inch of control he’d ever clung to. He might go insane with you, here, in his lap, telling him about your dreams, your wants, your desires for him. 

“Do you wanna kiss me now?” he asked. 

You nodded. 

“Before you do,” he said, hands squeezing, “we need to talk.”

Your face shifted, the subtle kind of worry that made you look child-like, almost scolded. He saw your shoulders inch up like you were bracing for a lecture, and he hated that. He slid his thumbs under the hem of your sweater instead, just enough to brush the warm skin of your waist, soothing whatever tension lie beneath the surface.

“Have ya ever done anythin' before?” he asked, dipping his head slightly, trying to catch your eye. When you met his gaze, you shrugged, sheepish.

“I’ve kissed a boy before. Not like…” You sighed, glanced off to the side. “Not like with tongue or anything. And it was a dare.”

Joel chuckled at that, “A dare, huh?” 

You gave him a mock glare, your nose wrinkling in protest. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Never,” he murmured, the smile still tugging at the edge of his mouth. He let the air settle for a second, then took another breath, slower this time. 

“You’re gonna need to tell me when somethin’ don’t feel good. When you want me to stop, alright?” He watched you closely now, his thumbs still rubbing careful, slow lines against your skin. “Pick a word that means stop. Don’t matter what it is, but you say it, and everything stops. We talk, figure it out. You won’t be in trouble, I just need to know you’re okay.”

You opened your mouth like you were about to argue, and he could see the protest already brewing, the way your brows pulled together, the way your lip started to tuck between your teeth.

“I don’t want you to stop just because—I know, er—-I’ve heard it hurts, a little, the first time,” you said, your voice quiet, almost defensive.

He shook his head gently. “It’s not about that,” he said. “This ain’t for little discomfort. I know you’re tough, I know you can handle that. But this—” he softened his voice again, “this is for if somethin’ don’t feel right in your gut. If you change your mind, or I do somethin’ you don’t like. You don’t owe me anythin’, you understand? I ain’t gonna be mad.”

Your teeth were worrying your lip again, eyes darting like you were thinking hard, weighing something heavy. He watched it all and felt the pull in his chest that came from how goddamn much he wanted to reach up and kiss the thought right out of your head. But this came first. You deserved this part too.

After a moment, you nodded. “Okay. Okay… what about… pickleback?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Like the shot?”

You nodded again, smiling this time, your eyes downturned. “I love them.”

Joel huffed a low laugh. That smile…it had his belly doing flips like some kid. You were so sweet and shy, like you didn’t know what it did to him.

“Alright then,” he said, brushing his hands up your waist again, savoring the heat of your skin, the way you felt under his hands, “Pickleback it is.”

And god, you were so warm. He took a long breath through his nose, collecting himself, trying to keep his thoughts grounded instead of letting them scatter into the fire like ash.

“Alright,” he said softly, almost to himself. “C’mere, baby.”

One of his hands abandoned the skin beneath your sweater to slide up your spine, tracing each vertebrae to the base of your neck, just under the edge of your hair, and he felt the tremble in your body like a secret only he got to keep. Your eyes were so wide, mouth parted like you were bracing for something. But you didn’t look scared. Just... expectant. Waiting. Brave.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his nose brushing yours, and his breath was warm when it hit your cheek.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he said softly, his thumb brushing under your jaw. “And I want you to relax. Don’t worry about what you’re s’posed to do. You don’t have to do a thing, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You nodded, breath hitching just a little, and he waited until he felt the tiny flex of your fingers on his chest like you were anchoring yourself there.

Then he kissed you.

He pressed his mouth to yours with a slow, aching tenderness, just warmth and patience and the softness of your lips beneath his. He felt you gasp, just a little, and he moved slow as molasses, letting you settle into it. His hand at your neck stayed firm, thumb stroking over your jaw. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d imagined this moment until now, until your mouth pressed harder against his, until your hands were sliding up to grip at his collar as if you didn’t want him going anywhere. 

He pulled back then, a fraction, close enough that you were still breathing his air.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded again, lips a little wet, your eyes flicking down to his mouth, and Joel felt something in his chest cave.

“Good girl,” he said under his breath. “Let’s try that again.”

​​And he kissed you a second time, this one deeper, more certain—his lips parting slightly, coaxing you to follow. When your mouth opened under his, he groaned softly, chest tightening. You tasted sweet, like honey and lemon from the tea, and something else too. Something that was just you. Your hands gripped his hair now, fingers curling tight at the nape. He felt your tongue poke out between your lips, discovering and curious, and he met it with his own. You squeaked a little at that, and he couldn’t help but smile, pulling away once again. 

“Gimme your tongue, baby, let me see your tongue,” he coaxed, fingers tightening in your hair. 

You did as you were told, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out at him. He couldn’t help but smile at you with fondness. “Relax, like this,” he murmured, showing you how, his own tongue flat in his mouth, patient. You mirrored him, and he reached up, licking at your waiting tongue, honey and lemon and cinnamon and a burn of desire filling his mouth, making it water, his stomach clench.

You let out the softest sound, a little hum deep in your chest, and Joel answered before he even thought about it. He wrapped his lips around your tongue, pulling just slightly: gentle, savoring you. Your eyes shuttered closed, sighing into him, your hips rocking involuntarily. He felt, beneath layers of clothing, a little pulse between your legs. 

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she, darlin’?” Joel asked when he pulled away again.

“You—” your voice was hoarse, almost drunk with desire, licking your lips, “you could feel that?”

He nodded, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Can you feel me?” he asked, quieter now. “Feel how much I want you?”

You nodded, cheeks heating, “I like it.”

Joel didn’t wait. He kissed you again, deeper, hungrier, and you melted into him with confidence. Your arms looped around his neck, your breasts pressing to his chest beneath your sweater, body giving into him. His hands slipped beneath your top again, finding your skin, your back warm and smooth beneath his palms. He pulled you in closer, like you weren’t close enough already. He thought he could kiss you for hours. He thought he might go insane if he couldn’t. 

And between the moans and whimpers, you murmured to him between a kiss.

“Can I have your tongue, Joel? Please?”

Joel’s brain was so scrambled, monopolized by desire, that he did as he was told before he could think. And then his brain really did snap in half as your lips sealed around his tongue, and you suckled on the muscle, moaning, tasting, wanting. 

Joel groaned loudly, eyes rolling to the back of his skull, his hands beginning to dig into your skin. He needed you closer, closer. 

And when you released your gentle hold of him, lips connected again for another kiss, he was dragging your hips against him harder, sawing your little center across his thickening length beneath his sweatpants. It just wasn’t enough, not nearly as close as he needed you. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, kissing you harder, unable to take anymore, “fuck, baby, you’re killin’ me, grind on my cock some more, it feels so damn good, little thing wants me bad, huh?”

You gasped at his dirty mouth, but he couldn’t help himself, he was gone. Lost to it, hungry, hungrier than he thought he’d ever been for anything. All Joel could think about now was your pulsing, wet, puffy cunt beneath your clothes. How it would feel to not take, but give. And he’d give it to you so damn good. 

You pushed your hips down, and he guided you, hands back on your hips, pushing and sawing you on top of him. It was damn near heaven, friction and heat, everything he’d wanted. 

“Take this off, baby, please, is that okay?” he asked, pulling at your sweater. 

You were already moving, hasty, as undone as he was, both of you chasing the same edge. The fabric came over your head with shaking fingers, and suddenly you were bare in front of him, breathing hard, flushed all over. No bra. So that was it. The final nail in his coffin. The quiet, damning proof that you hadn’t just come over hoping he’d give you what you wanted—you’d known he would.

You’d decided. You’d trusted him. You’d made up your mind long before he opened the door.

“Joel,” you murmured, shirt off. 

He was staring. He knew he was staring. His brain was blank, white space as his mouth parted. His eyes drank you in like he’d never seen anything more perfect. He wasn’t sure he ever had, truth be told. 

As he shook his head to unscramble the thoughts, he heard his voice from far away: “Yeah, baby?” 

“I think I might go insane,” you said, your voice so soft it was almost a confession. “I feel—”

You wrapped your arms around yourself suddenly, like you needed to hold it all in, covering yourself, pushing your breasts together, fingers brushing your throat, your eyes darting away as if you didn’t know where to land.

He forced himself back to the present, maybe he’d been too quick, too forceful, too willing to give over all control to the beast in him that wanted so badly it made him blind. “What is it? Are you okay?”

You nodded—then shook your head, “I want you so bad I think I might…It hurts, Joel. I might cry if you don’t do something.”

Joel’s hands came up to your face, palms warm against your jaw, his thumb stroking the corner of your mouth. Your bare chest pressed to his shirt, burning him through the cotton. His breath stuttered in his throat.

“Don’t cry, hunny,” he murmured, kissing the tip of your nose, nuzzling into your cheek, “don’t cry, daddy is here, daddy is gonna take care of you. I want you so bad, just wanna take it slow for ya, is all.”

You were gripping his arms, rocking your hips harder, chasing that friction in his lap. Joel forced himself to keep his eyes open on you, as much as they wanted to roll back into his head again. Everything just felt so damn good when it came to you. He clenched his jaw, his hands anchored on you, guiding you. 

“I need more,” you whined, breath hot against his neck. 

“Okay, okay, what about this?” he said, voice rough with restraint, though he was smiling a bit.  He lowered his head to your chest, kissing your clavicle, licking a broad stripe between the valley of your breasts. So heavy and pretty, his for the taking. His mouth closed over one nipple, tongue flattening against it, and you gasped, arching into him like your body knew what to do before your mind caught up. Your fingers dove into his hair, tangling, tugging, your body trembling against his.

He sucked and pulled and bit on your pert nipple, inhaling your perfume, the smell of the hearth, the heat of your skin. Everything was a blur of a dream and reality, his memories of his fist around his cock just thinking of you like this mixing with the reality of it happening here and now. 

He was going insane. That was the plain truth.

He kissed up your neck again, tongue flat against your skin as he licked and nibbled his way to your jaw. Your sweet little moans filled his lungs, breathless sighs spilling out against his cheek, feeding something wild in him. He wrapped his arms beneath you and lifted you with ease, and you giggled as your legs locked around his waist, clinging tight while he started toward the hallway.

“No, no,” you whined, petulant, “want to do it here, in front of the fire,” 

“S’not right, baby,” he muttered, the sound breaking as he groaned and held you aloft, looking up at you, “should take you in the bed, where you’ll be comfortable.”

But you shook your head, tugged his hair, eyes wide and pleading, still shining with that sex drunk look in them. “Want you here,” you said again. “It’s warm… and it’s nice in here.”

“Alright,” he breathed, giving in without a fight. You were kissing him before he even settled you back down, greedy wet mouth pressing up into his, your arms wrapping tight around his neck. He lowered you onto the couch, eased you onto your back, and your legs opened for him, letting him into the cradle of you. You moaned as he pressed down into you, grinding slow and teasing.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured, lips wandering lower again, down your throat, your collarbone. He kissed everywhere, licked and tasted, needing to map every inch of your skin. “Gonna take these off now,” he said, gaze flicking up to meet yours as his fingers slipped under your waistband. “That okay?”

You nodded, chest heaving, lips parted and kiss bitten.

“Words, baby, let me hear your pretty voice too.”

“Yes, please—please,”

“Atta girl,” he praised, and it rumbled deep in his chest. He began pulling your layers off, slowly, gently. Socks went first, plucked only with his forefinger and thumb, and he kissed the insole of your foot, his hand covering your frozen toes to warm them. He pulled off the rest, unwrapping his gift. His jaw nearly unhinged at the sight of you laid bare in front of him. He dragged his palms along your thighs, taking in the sight before him. Glistening, puffy, nearly dripping onto his sofa in front of him. You pretty pussy just waiting for him to devour. He could feel his cock answer in earnest, twitching, pre cum dribbling down the inseam of his thigh. 

“Oh, hunny,” he sighed, leaning the side of his head on your propped up knee, bringing you closer, dragging you up before him so he could get a better look. It felt like he might’ve started drooling, completely entranced by the way your perfect pussy clenched on nothing, begging for something that wasn’t there yet. Torture, that’s what it was, to leave her untouched this entire night.

“Are you going to…to touch me?” he heard you ask, so fragile and yet so brave. He looked up at you then, and watched, enamored, at your sweet face, your nervous eyes that were heavy lidded. 

“You want me to?”

You nodded vigorously, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder, pulling him closer. Suddenly so confident in your want for him. 

He took your leg, kissed the inside of your calf, then bit into the meat of it in a playful little warning. You yelped, giggled, and kicked him lightly in the chest. “Bad,” he scolded, though there wasn’t a trace of real reprimand in his voice.

“You’re taking so lonngggg,” you whined, dramatic.

“Let me savor this,” he said playfully, kissing your skin again, warm mouth against warmer flesh, the heat of the two of you seeping into ever pore. He moved slowly, lips pressing, tongue tasting, his beard dragging in little teasing strokes along your thigh that made your skin pebble. He took his time climbing the soft inside of your legs, and he could feel you trembling, tightening in anticipation.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he stopped to stare, because the firelight had turned you into something unreal. Glistening, soft, swollen with want. The smell rising from you was honey and sweat and something sweetly feral, and it pulled at him like gravity. He laid one hand gently over your pubic bone, the other hooking under your thigh to pull you closer, closer, until you couldn’t move away even if you wanted. He leaned in and blew across your glistening folds. 

You whined, hips jerking in his hold. “Hurts, Joel,” you whimpered.

“What does, baby?” he asked softly, voice teasing at the edges. “This?” He blew again, gentle and warm, and your puffy pussy twitched in response.

You shook your head, “Waiting—it hurts, she wants you. I want you.” 

She. As if his brain wasn’t already scrambled enough, you were using pronouns for your sweet, velvet keep. He felt his pulse pounding in his fingertips. Humming in a sort of understanding, he lowered his head. 

“Might feel a little weird, okay? You ever touch yourself before, hunny?” He asked.

You nodded, nibbling on the nails of your right hand. He kissed the top of your mound, eyes on your sweet face. “Have you ever had an orgasm before?”

“Yes,” you sighed, eyes beginning to close as he kissed along your soft thatch of curls. 

Joel let out a deep breath, reverent in his hunger, the sound shaking through his chest. He lowered his face until the bridge of his nose rested just above your entrance. He knew he was torturing you, stringing you along like this. But what if this was the only time he ever got to touch you like this? Every other woman had come to him once and left satisfied, done with him. If they returned, he always turned them away, told them he wasn’t built for more than the favor he gave. But you… you were different. He wanted to keep this. To savor this.

He wanted to remember how you looked right now for the rest of his life.

“S’gonna feel a little different,” he promised, voice rough as gravel. “But daddy’ll make it feel good. I promise.”

“Okay,” you breathed, reaching down to pet your fingers through his hair. The moment your nails scraped lightly against his scalp, another sound rumbled out of him, low and almost pleased enough to be a purr.

He could no longer deny you. He could no longer deny her. If he held himself back another second, he didn’t think he’d survive it. And he’d never be able to call himself a good man again if he dragged out this torture.

He started slow, a kiss to your little pearl, and it pulsed between his lips when he kissed again, suckling gently, your soft whines and breathy sighs rising above him like a symphony.  He licked a fat stripe from your perineum, his tongue like a basin for catching your nectar, drinking you, inhaling you, eating you. He tried to be kind, gentle, but once he’d had a taste, he couldn’t stop himself. 

Joel was a menace. He knew it. Growling under his breath, his breathing heavy and ragged, the beast in him was closer to the surface than he’d let it get in years. Muzzle off but leash tight, he licked and drank and sounded like he’d never eat again. He moaned into you, harmonizing with your sweet, desperate sounds, both of you moving without thinking, your hips pushing into his mouth while he rocked up against the bottom of the couch, the precum from his cock already staining the fabric of his pants.

“Oh,” you mewled, trembling, “oh, Joel—Joel, I think… oh god—”

The sound of his name like that on your lips, pleading and filled with want was a blow to his gut. He paused his grinding, knowing full well he could finish in his pants if he let himself go even one inch further.

He couldn’t take his mouth away from you. He wanted to tell you everything, wanted to praise you, to worship you, to admit how beautiful you were, how unreal you tasted, sweet and warm and soft like velvet against his tongue. He was losing his mind, forcing his heavy‑lidded eyes to stay open, to watch you fall apart for him. 

The hand that was placed upon your mound had started thrumming at your little clit so he could fuck your keep with his tongue, pushing and drinking you in, forcing your back to arch, your lungs to heave, throat crying out. And that’s when he felt the pulsing swell of your orgasm crest and rush through you, thighs shaking, heels pulling him in, digging into his shoulder blades as you brought him closer.

“Yes,” he swore, “That’s it, baby, fucking soak me, come all over my face, atta girl,” his voice was raw with desire, aching for it, and you let out one final scream of pleasure as he kept you there to ride it out, tongue pushing in, thumb circling your clit.

And as you settled, thighs trembling, he saw your throat bobbing, hoarse, eyes heavy and moist as you looked at him again, “Holy shit,” you whispered, giggling a bit. 

Joel wasn’t in the mood for playfulness anymore. Not with the way that feral, starving thing in him was thrashing now, begging, snapping at its leash. His cock strained violently through his sweatpants, painful and insistent, and he crawled over you like gravity had taken hold of him. His hands cupped the bowl of your skull, holding you steady as he kissed you, deep and claiming, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he commanded between breaths, “taste how fuckin’ good you are,”

You moaned into his mouth, and he thought he might scare you with how badly he wanted you, it scared him a little too. But you could feel his cock, and you were grinding on the outline of it, creamy folds pulsing around the cotton covered mold of him. He was groaning and pushing into you, sawing his hips hard into your cradle. 

“That feels so good, Joel, oh god, please, I want it, I’m ready, I’m ready,” you babbled, mouth soft and open for him as he kissed down your chin, along your jaw, to the shell of your ear. He sat back on his haunches, fingers shaking as he tugged his waistband down. He didn’t care to discard them fully, he was too lost in his need, his hunger. Monopolized by it, it’s all he could think of, giving you this. Giving you him. 

But as he brought his cock to lay across your belly, too heavy to bob up against his own, your eyes widened, a prickle of fear through them as you looked up at him. 

His hand slid to the crease of your hip and thigh, thumb settling right into that soft pocket of skin. He stroked you there, slow, reassuring. “S’alright, baby. You ever seen a cock before?”

You shook your head. “In pictures,” you whispered. “But not… not—” You lifted your hands to your face, peeking through your fingers like you were bracing for a jump scare. “It’s not gonna fit, Joel. Absolutely not.”

He chuckled before he could stop himself, but it wasn’t soft. It sounded rough, a little feral, like something wrenched out of him without permission. "We'll make it fit, honey," he said with finality.

He tried to school that feral part of him back, but then your hand moved.

You were reaching down, touching, your finger tracing the ridge of the head, making him hiss. You jerked your hand away, startled, but he caught your wrist with surprising gentleness. “S’okay,” he breathed, eyes falling shut as he tried not to lose what little control he had left. “Feels good. Maybe too good.” He guided your hand back, lacing his fingers over yours, helping you cup the weight of him. He rocked into your hand, slow and tight.

“So warm,” you whispered to yourself, “Soft, too, like velvet,” 

Joel hummed, lost to the way your delicate fingers felt around him as he rucked against you. The friction wasn’t enough, and he brought your hand to his mouth, spit into it, your eyes wider, and brought your hand back down. His head thrown back and mouth open, he let you play, no longer guiding, letting you explore. Your wet fingers traced him, teased him, wrapped around him, and he felt his vision spark white at the edges. He wanted to watch so badly but couldn’t, the feeling of your wet exploration, your learning of him, far too delicious to focus on anything but touch alone. 

“I want to try,” you said at last, “maybe just…just be slow,” 

Joel looked back down at you, but you weren’t looking at him, instead, you were staring at your own hand, enraptured by the way it moved over him, touching him like you were trying to memorize every vein and ridge. When you reached further, cupping his balls gently, he let out a groan that tore through him, a sound he couldn’t have held back if he tried. 

He gripped himself, shifting so he could slide through the slick honey you made for him, his cock jumping at the feeling of your warm keep. 

You moaned at the contact, hands flying to his forearms, gripping as you whimpered at the notch of when he finally prodded the entrance. 

“M’nervous,” you whispered. 

Joel leaned down immediately, cupping your cheeks in both hands again, kissing your mouth once, soft and grounding, trying to soothe the tremble running through your body. “I got you, baby. Daddy’s got you. Gonna take it slow, I promise. You ready?”

You nodded, arms slipping around his neck, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him close like you couldn’t bear even an inch of distance.

Joel’s mouth fell open, jaw coming unhinged as he pushed, slowly, like molasses, through your walls. They clenched down, as nervous as you were to his intrusion. He kissed you again, distracting you with his tongue, coaxing you through it, letting you mewl sweetly into his mouth as your body adjusted around him.

“Oh!” you squealed, “you’re—you’re in my belly,” you hissed as he pulled back a little, settling there. 

He pushed your hair back, your forehead dappling in sweat, “It’s alright,” he murmured, over and over, his voice a low litany. “It’s alright. Gonna hurt for just a minute. That’s halfway, baby. Only halfway. You’re doin’ so good. She feels like heaven.”

You were moaning, whether in pleasure or pain, Joel knew he needed to wait. He felt your walls pulling and pushing, constricting like a fist, all the blood in the thick vein that rushed along his shaft pulsing. He kissed your neck, your jaw, all to keep himself in line, to keep that shred of restraint, waiting. 

“Bein’ so good for me, baby,” he whispered, “How you feelin’, hm? Talk to me.”

You drew in a deep breath. “Feels funny,” you admitted, “but better.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, eyes fluttering. “Keep going. Please. I want to feel all of you.”

Joel looked into your eyes then, searching, both of you a mirror of desire, of nerves, of want, “Okay, okay,” he cooed, pushing in a few more inches. Your neck arched back, eyes squeezing shut, and he tapped his thumb against your jaw, “Look at me, honey, daddy’s got ya,”

Your eyes opened, and your breath came heavier, and soon your grimace was turning into an ‘o’ of pleasure as he seated himself fully, his balls pushing into the cheeks of your ass. 

“Ohhh…” Joel groaned, “Ain’t that so good, sugar?” 

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” you were whispering. 

Joel eased back just enough to look down between your bodies. You followed his gaze, chest heaving, watching with him as his cock slid out, slick with your release, veins streaked with white cream, the thick length glistening under the low light. His hair was damp, peppered with sweat and ecstasy.

“Holy fucking shit,” you breathed, eyes wide, watching him push back in, your neck arching with the stretch, head tipping helplessly into the pillows. “Please, please don’t stop—it feels—oh my god—it feels so fucking good—”

And finally, fucking finally, after what felt like ages of restraint, of being good, of holding himself and muzzling that mean dog in him, Joel let go of the leash.

He started fucking into you with full force, sawing deep, hard, relentless, watching the way his cock disappeared and reappeared inside you, dripping with slick. His jaw clenched, his body shuddering as he gave in to the hunger.

“You’ve got no fuckin’ clue,” he growled, “how long I’ve wanted this.” His hands moved to grip your hips so hard his knuckles blanched. “How long I’ve thought about you like this. Moanin’ my name with my cock deep in you.”

Your eyes were wide as you watched him, moaning his praises. Oh, god, oh god, tell me, daddy please tell me—

He couldn’t stop looking, watching himself move in and out of you like it was the only thing left in the world, and his mouth spilled every unclean thought he'd ever had. “You got no idea, baby. Wanted to fuck your throat every time you gave me lip. Wanted to bend you over the cabin floor that time we got snowed in, make her cry for me. God, I wanted you so bad.”

Sweat was dripping from his forehead, falling onto your belly, hot against hot. The room blurred at the edges, fire and muscle and want, just you taking everything he gave.

“Ain’t my fault,” he murmured, a crooked little smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect. This ass. That face. You’re perfect, baby. All mine now. My perfect girl.”

“Yes, Joel, I’m yours—I wanna be—it’s all I’ve ever—” you were gasping, hiccuping on a moan, nails dragging down his arms. “Please, come here, closer—”

He dropped over you again in an instant, kissing you hard, bellies sliding together, soaked in sweat, his rhythm never slowing. The couch rocked beneath you as he kept fucking into you, kissing you as if it might kill him if he stopped.

“I’m yours,” you whispered against his mouth, nails scraping into his scalp. “Fuck me like I’m yours, Joel.”

He bit into your neck, rough and deep, and you wailed, body tightening as he sawed into you. He forced himself to keep a steady rhythm, he would not ruin this by being an animal. He told himself he’d teach you one day how to take a good fucking, maybe bent over the armchair or over his kitchen counter, or maybe in the shower, but tonight he needed to still be gentle and good, keeping it steady for only you. 

His thumb found your clit and you jolted like you’d been shocked.

“N–n–no, too much,” you cried out, writhing, your hands pushing at him weakly.

“Say your word n’ I’ll stop, baby girl, come on, know you’re tough, know you can take it,” he growled, “wanna feel how fuckin’ tight she’ll get when she comes around me, come on now, be daddy’s girl and come for me.”

You were wailing, tears beading in your eyes, but you didn’t say your word, you nodded, kissing him, salt and wet and delicious as your breath came shorter and shorter. And then you froze, legs widening until your thighs were planted on the bed, taking your orgasm, letting him fuck you through it, your velvet keep a vice around his cock, a fist, threatening to choke the life out of him as you came. 

"I'm gonna come inside," he wanted, "I have to, I can't—"

"Yes, yes, yes," you whispered.

He was babbling praise in your ear as he held on through sheer force before his own body went taut and he was coming inside of you, unable to talk himself into pulling away. That’s a good girl, atta girl, what a sweet little thing takin’ daddy’s cock so good, that’s it, that’s it, yes.

And in the after, the two of you lay like that, bodies tangled and unwound, catching your breath while the sweat cooled and soaked into the old couch cushions beneath you. He kept his mouth on your shoulder, slow open kisses that tasted of salt and the faintest sweetness of your skin. Your fingers stroked gently at his hair, a soft and steady petting that calmed him. He felt the heavy rise and fall of your chest begin to ease, your heartbeat settling back into its natural rhythm, the thrum of it against his sternum.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words faint and almost shy.

Joel hummed against your skin, his lips still wandering, kissing whatever they could reach. He did not know how to answer you without saying too much.

“What happens now?” you asked even quieter. 

He lifted his head, brushing a kiss to your chin, then the swell of your bottom lip, then the tip of your nose, giving himself time to think. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and you can...” He paused when he saw your brow crease, the worry clouding the softness that had been there a moment ago. “What is it?”

“I don’t wanna go home,” you whispered. “I don’t want this to be the last time. I want…I meant what I said, Joel. I’m yours, if you’d have me.”

He went still, just for a moment, watching the worry flicker behind your eyes. He hated that worry. Hated that he might be the cause of it. You were brave enough to say it, and he knew what that cost.

He’d lived a long time doing favors for folks, keeping to himself, giving women what they asked for without stepping past the boundaries they laid down. Jackson’s Cherry Picker. That stupid little nickname had stuck, and maybe he’d earned it. But he never took what wasn’t offered, they never stayed long after, and he never asked for more. They came to him wanting a lesson, a night, a rite of passage, and he’d give them exactly that. No promises. No expectations. 

And most days he convinced himself he liked it that way. It kept him unbound, kept things simple. And it kept him from wanting what he’d already lost too many times.

But simple had turned into lonely long before tonight, and he hadn’t even noticed until now, with you in his arms. You had been the exception from the beginning. But now…now…

He lifted his hand to your cheek, thumb brushing the heat there, and saw how much you meant every word you’d said. It would be the easiest thing in the world to tell you to go, to stick to the script he always used, to keep his life small and untouched.

But he couldn’t picture you leaving. Not after this. This was mind altering, a seismic change, like fault lines rearranged in his heart for you. A spell cast between you, irreversible and unseen. Whatever line you’d crossed together, it wouldn’t be uncrossed. And that’s what he wanted. He wanted to keep giving, to let himself soften and offer and pour whatever he had into your hands, if you chose that path with him.

“Stay here,” he said, more certain than he had felt in years, “Stay with me.”

[thinkinonsense]

-cravings.

cw: feral!logan, breeding kink, pervy!logan, marking, TA/ co-workers relationship, belly bulge, oral (fem receiving), gross!logan, squirting, male masturbation, spitting, slight praise kink, slight hair tugging, pet names, slightly grinding on abs? pantie play?

summary: logan's in a rut and only his sweet girl can help him.

a/n: so i pictured dofp!logan but x trilogy!logan also works! hope you enjoy <3 also also not proof read so sorry for any errors

"scott, have you seen logan?" your delicate voice fills the study as you pass by, looking for your mentor.

logan has been missing all day, which isn't the most unusual thing but it is odd that he said he would train with you today and yet, he's nowhere to be found.

"charles said he wasn't feeling well." scott replied, barely gazing up at you. "he's probably still in bed."

you nod, turning around to head upstairs and check on logan like any good friend would.

the floorboards creek under your light foot steps down the hall. charles, hank, and storm took the kids to a lab overnight to work on their final projects. the rest of the adult were either training or lesson planning. the wooden door glowed with golden light illuminating the rim, so warm and welcoming.

one knock turned into three and four. all of them unanswered, leaving you slightly alarmed. this wasn't like logan to ignore you.

❀༉‧₊˚

meanwhile, beyond the wooden door, logan sat on his bed trying to get a grip on this feeling. it's happened before, the familiar warmth that spreads all over. a primal craving attempting to claw its way out of him.

normally, he can hide out until the rut is over but now it is different. now logan has his eyes on someone. not just someone though.

it's the girl he's been warned not to fall for. charles, jean, hank and scott have all told logan that he's not to make a move on you. the girl who's too pure for a big bad wolf like him. for once, he listened and steered clear of you, no matter how pretty you were.

until you signed up to be his teachers assistant.

now with the close proximity, logan is tortured by your scent. the sweet cherry he's become familiar with haunts his deepest thoughts. he could perfectly trace every outline on your body without even trying. honestly, he found it quite sickening how you've carved your spot in his mind.

next to him on the mattress are a pair of your panties from yesterday. he remembered seeing the slight flash of light blue from under your skirt when you dropped your pen in the hallway. there's a damp patch on them, calling his name in mocking tones.

"logan..?" your meek voice was barely audible behind the door. "can i please come in?"

a low growl hums in his chest at the sound of your voice. he wants nothing more than to let you inside and ravish you in the way he desires; but he doesn't want to scare you off.

"not now, sweetheart." he grunts almost as if he's in pain.

"a-are you okay?"

logan couldn't see you but he could picture your concerned face. scrunched eyebrows and wide bambi eyes, lips in a pout. god, he could just eat you up.

" 'm fine." his voice sounds rough, like a bark. he would never yell at you but he needed you to walk away because the feeling of his cock being suffocated in his jeans was killing him.

"alright." you whine. "see ya later then, lo."

soon enough he heard your footsteps down the hall, logan quickly strips himself of his black shirt, dark blue jeans and his boxers. without hesitation he reaches over to grab that panties he had taken from your hamper.

"fuck, smells so sweet." he groans, nose pressed against the soft soaked cotton as he tugs his throbbing cock. spreading the pearly beads of pre-cum.

with his senses clouded and a fire ignited in him, he kitten licks the patch, letting your slick dance on his tongue. picturing your legs wrapped around his head, how your tight hole would take his tongue or his fingers and the little noises that would escape you.

"that's my sweet pussy. all mine." logan mumbles possessively under his breath before spitting into the material and bringing it to his cock, using it to jerk off.

as his orgasm approaches, the fire intensifies; sweat dripping down his temples the faster his hand moves. abs also dripping in sweat as his chest rapidly moves up and down. mind swarmed with all the positions logan wants to put you in.

"s-shit." logan curses, clenching his teeth as his vision blurs and euphoria washes over him. ropes of cum spill all over his abs and happy trail, creating a sticky messy.

left alone and panting, covered in his release, logan's still unsatisfied. he knew there was only one thing that could fix this.

❀༉‧₊˚

it's near midnight when you finally hear logan leave his room. heavy boots heading towards the stairs, right by your room.

"where are you going, lo?" you ask, peaking out of your bedroom to catch him. he stops but doesn't acknowledge you. "gonna leave me here all alone?"

logan could've sworn that you would be asleep at this hour and he could leave to find some woman at the bar to help with his... situation.

"scott's around here somewhere." he dryly replies, trying to avoid your gaze.

"he left a few hours ago." you mumble, nervously messing with the bottom of your nightgown.

something was off about logan; you just couldn't figure out what it was. he wouldn't even look at you. had you done something wrong? was he upset with you? why was he avoiding you?

"i-is everything alright?" you ask, worried for the answer.

logan take a minute to respond, scratching the scruff on his face while he thinks. just because he looks strong doesn't mean he is internally. logan found his weakness in you. a woman he's known for a little over a year and yet you could bring him to his knees if you so pleased.

suddenly, logan turns and looks at you. he sucks in his breath sharply when he saw you dressed in a cute tiny white nightgown. logan was positive that you were the closest he will ever get to meeting an angel.

the material ends high up on your thighs and he swears that in this light he can see the outline of your nipples, watching how they pebble from the cool air in the hallway.

"it's just cravings." he finally answers, tearing his eyes off of your pretty shape.

the moment logan makes eye contact with you, you notice how the color changed from a light hazel to bordering black. he looked hungry. you've heard of this before, a feral state that mutants like him enter every six months or so and if you knew better, you would run.

"anything i can help you with?" you ask, batting your long lashes up at him.

"it's real dirty work, princess." logan warns, restraining himself from jumping at the opportunity.

"i don't mind." you tell him. in that moment, a familiar aroma hits him. "i wanna help you, logan."

normally, logan wouldn't let things get this far. sure, the two of you have made sly flirty comments in the past but it's never gone past just words.

he watches you walk back into your room, keeping the door open for him.

❀༉‧₊˚

your bedroom was damn near exactly how logan pictured it. soft earth toned colors, pretty sheets, messy desk with all the paperwork you two do together. most importantly, it smelled like you. not your perfume or whatever candle you lit earlier. this was different.

"logan..." your voice pulls him back to reality. "tell me what you want me to do."

so considerate. logan thinks to himself as he watches you sit with your knees against the mattress and look up at him like a dog looking at its owner, waiting for an order.

without a warning, logan crashes his lips against yours. it hot and messy how he almost swallows you whole. both of you have waited forever for this moment.

logan lays you flat on the mattress, not breaking the kiss. your teeth bite down on his bottom lip at the small thud. you go to whisper an apology but it's covered by logan's loud groaning.

he take this opportunity to grind against you, only covered in a pair of matching white panties. if he was in a clearer head space, he would've thought this was planned.

"u-uh, please." you whimper against his lips, lifting your hips a little to meet his.

it's quite cute how pathetic you look right now. struggling for more. logan latches his lips to your neck, leaving dark maroon bites behind as he moves further south.

at the waistband of your panties, logan nips at the skin on your hipbone, leaving behind a pretty mark to match the others. he craved to be closer to you. pressing his nose into the wet patch and inhaling sharply, grunting at your essence.

a loud squeal falls from your lips as you lazily try to push him away. too embarrassed by the lewd action. nonetheless, logan refuses to move until he's had enough. licking over the cotton and making out with your covered cunt.

"l-logan!" you gasp as he flips you over on your belly with your ass in the air.

the sound of the material ripping fills the room. this was better than logan could've imagined. the sight of your throbbing cunt as it cries for his attention, and only his.

"prettiest fuckin' pussy i've ever seen." he marvels under his breath. "gonna let me use it how i please, princess?"

"mhm." you nod, trying to look back at him. "it's yours, lo."

your words send him on a spiral, he sinks you down on his tongue so he can fuck you at his pace. exploring your walls and reveling in your taste. no dessert in the world could compare to you.

logan grinds against your mattress, desperately seeking relief. not that he's complaining. he's more than happy with his position; and so are you.

there will be bruises on your hips tomorrow, without a doubt because of how tightly logan's gripping your hips. keeping you right where he wants you to be.

"n-need more, please." you moan, fists balling up the sheets.

"what a greedy fuckin' baby." logan says, pulling off of a second to replace his tongue with two thick fingers, stretching you out for him.

pretty little 'uh, uh, uh's' spill from your lips every time you bounce back on logan's fingers. he's hypnotized by the way you manage to coat his finger with your slick. dripping down his palm and onto your sheets.

"look 'atcha, sweetheart." he mutters, doubtful that you can hear him over the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. "struggling to take my fingers. gotta stretch ya' for my cock. think you can take it?"

"mhm!" you answer, feeling a trail of kisses on the back of your thighs as logan speeds up his thrusts, locating your sweet spot with ease.

there's a warmth of pleasure that washes over you. it's different than anything else you've experienced. before you could even figure it out, you to gush all over logan's hand and the sheets.

"she's squeezing me so damn tight." he growls, watching as your pussy spasms from overstimulation, practically knocking the wind out of you. logan has to fight off cumming in his jeans as he licks up your release.

once logan allows you to catch your breath, you turn and say, "i've never um, never done that before."

"fuck." logan curses, smacking his palm down on your ass. "it won't be the last time tonight."

the sound of logan undoing his belt echos in the room. lining the head up to your entrance and slowly sinking into you. your eyes roll back into your head at the stretch. similar to a cat, you arch your back and purr at the feeling.

"f-feel so full." you moan as he picks up his pace.

"that's it, princess." he grunts, moving his hand down your back and wrapping it into your hair. "tell me how good it feels."

and you don't waste a single second to do so.

"you're s-so big, can feel you e-everywhere." you reply in between heavy breaths.

the hand wrapped in your hair tugs you forward so your back is against his chest. with his lips pressed against your ear, he mutters, "everywhere, huh?"

you nod, digging your nails into his thighs with each thrust. his other hand travels from your breast to your lower torso underneath the nightgown. your eyes shoot open as soon as he lightly pushes down.

"can you feel me right here?" he asks, slowing down his strokes for you to focus.

when you don't respond right away, the hand in your hair moves to your jaw, gripping it and angling your gaze down to the large bulge in your belly. you always knew logan was larger than the average man but you didn't even think this was possible.

"y-yes!" you whimper loudly, needing him to go faster.

logan's not religious by any means but in that moment, he wishes he could personally thank god for everyone being gone tonight. he can't imagine having to muffle your little moans right now while he starts pounding back into you.

"gimme kiss, please?" you whisper in between the lewd wet smacks of his heavy balls against your ass.

how could logan turn down his sweet girl? even while being ruined, you still managed to use your manners.

the two of you sloppily make out, exploring each other. he swallows all the whimpers you let out against his lips. except the one from when logan pulls back.

"what are you–?"

"open your mouth and stick out your tongue for me." logan demanded, staring down at you like a feral animal.

you obey, opening up for him like he asks. logan spits on top your tongue, feeling your tight cunt flutter around him. clenching at the taste of him.

"swallow." he says, watching you do so. "what a good girl."

"i'm so f-fucking close, lo." your head falls back against his shoulder as your vision turns white, stars behind your eye lids.

"me too." logan warns. " 'ya gonna let me fill you up, sweetheart? bet you wanna be full of me, to carry my seed? isn't that right?"

he knows you're too far gone, babbling incoherent sentences and soft pleas. the tiny, "mhm" and head nod give him the okay to cum inside you.

"s-shit!" he curses. "you're so tight, practically suffocating me, baby."

his orgasm triggers another for you, milking him until both of you are struggling for air. the room felt like the inside of a sauna and reeks of sex.

"got another one in you, pretty girl?" logan asks, slowly pulling out of you.

"y-yeah." you answer, letting him move you how he wanted.

logan slips your nightgown off of you and lays you down on your back again. this time fully taking in your form. every curve, dimple and scar. he makes sure to pay your breasts some attention, taking one in his mouth and massages the other, pinching and rolling your nipple until your whining. desperately you attempt to rub your pussy against his abs, gaining very little friction from it.

if he wasn't in this rut, he would've taken more time to appreciate this. next time he will.

you open up for him again and he slips in with ease. logan brings your thighs to your chest, folding you in half.

"harder, please." you beg, staring up at him with those wide eyes that he's a sucker for.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he grunts, trying to restrain himself.

"i can take it, lo." you tell him, stroking his cheek with your much smaller thumb. "i know you need it right now."

instead of answering with words, logan bends down and kisses you in a more tender way than before. as soon as he picks up his thrusts, you tug softly at his locks, making his hips stir and lose rhythm for a second.

"you like it rough, don't 'ya, princess?" he grunts in your neck while his thumb moves to rub circles on your clit. "fuck, my cum is just spilling out of you."

a tear rolls down your cheek, only further encouraging logan. licking up the salty tear before it falls off your skin. never in your life have you felt so dirty.

"please, need to feel you logan." you whimper and he knows exactly what you mean.

"don't worry, baby. i'm close." he says, feeling you flutter around him.

logan's gaze stays locked on where the two of you are connected, watching him slide in and out of you. almost drooling at the image of his cock in your stomach.

within minutes, you're soaking his cock like you did his fingers. slick landing all over logan's sculpted torso. your fingers gather some before bringing them to his lips, letting him lick them clean.

a loud animalistic growl signals his release, painting your walls again for the second time tonight.

both of you lay stuck together. neither ready to let go of each other just yet. on the floor, you notice something light blue peaking out of the back pocket of his discarded jeans.

"so that's where my panties went?" you giggle, capturing logan's attention.

"yeah..." his voice raspy and deeper than usual. "sorry 'bout that, sweetheart."

"it's okay." you reply. "but next time that you get these 'cravings', come to me and i'll help y–"

logan cuts you off on with the rock of his hips and the wet slosh of your ruined cunt. before you can even moan, he's grabbed your white panties next to you and shoves them in your mouth.

fuck, he should've come to you sooner.

– tags: @hazydespair @itsmemuffy @wolvndmouth @nightingale-slayer @melday0105 @collector-of-furby-furs @solistarrs @atomicmystery @milfsarefineashell @ohfourgotten @keerygal @shewolverinesworld @tezooks @spookysquids @llorentezete @actuallybridgetjones @planetxella @silversprings-mp3 @coocoocachewgotscrewed @lethallyprotected @laweona150 @sturnsvoid @emoevanafton @slowlikehoneyyy @ginnylupin @omnivirgo @shiv-r @buckyssugarchick @ayamenimthiriel @balariie @ssloveslogan @stabbedfawn @dxddyspup @leggomiegg0

[thinkinonsense]

primal ✮⋆˙

joel miller x fem!reader warnings: secret relationship, smut, specifically joel from ep. 2 when he goes golfing, kinda role playing, crawling, eating it from the back (fem receiving), fingering, dog symbolism, corruption kink, doggy style (i had to), possessive!joel, age gap (25 and 60's), slight manhandling, spanking, boot riding, pussy spanks, edging, hair tugging, joel talks to your pussy, jealous!joel, lots of cum, slight angst, slight breeding kink, notes: heavily inspired from the songs 'dog years' and 'safe word' by halsey and the film 'secretary'. the ending is kinda rushed.

what joel and you have together is controversial to say the least. if anyone knew the truth about what you two do late at night together, neither of you would be able to show your faces again in town.

that thought didn't make either of you want to stop it though. if anything, it made you want each other more.

it's a quarter to eight when you unlock the side door of joel's house with the key he gave you. the sun has already set in the town of jackson, letting the long day rest heavy on you. what you needed more than anything in this moment was joel.

he knows you better than anyone else ever has. taking the time to open you up and study you. finding a way to tame you.

anxiously you sat on the floor of his bedroom; waiting for joel to come home. the room is dark except for the one lamp in the corner of the room, barely creating any light.

soon enough you hear keys jingling around in the door handle downstairs and your stomach flips with excitement at every one of his loud footsteps heading your way. as he steps inside and sits on the bed, joel lets out a low whistle.

the signal.

"ah, there's my girl." he says, watching you crawl on your hands and knees over to him.

the thin straps of your dress fall lazily off of your shoulders as you make your way over to him. when your finally settled in between his legs, joel's hand lightly touches your hair and moves down to your jaw, gripping it and lifting it up.

"long day, sweetheart?" he asks, moving his thumb to tug softly at your bottom lip.

you nod into his palm.

"ain't gotta worry now. i'll take good care of ya'."

joel's thumb pushes past your lips, allowing you to suck on it freely. you obey, letting him stretch and train your mouth as he pleases. never complaining when you nibble on the digit, letting your teeth glide over it teasingly.

you always get so lost in these moments that the only thing that breaks you out of them is when joel begins to tap his foot next to you.

"get on, babydoll."

his words create a warm tingle in between your thighs. slowly you hop onto the tip of his working boots. joel's never said it aloud but he adores the way your body wraps around his leg, holding on as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded.

a tiny whimper leaves your lips when you first move, feeling the pool of slick beneath you. joel can feel the way your body trembles with each grind.

your clit catches on the lace of his boots, adding a nice bit of friction. joel takes in the scene in front of him. your left cheek pressed against the inside of his denim covered thigh, moaning sweetly for him. as much as joel enjoys watching you contort with pleasure, he also loved denying you of it.

right on the brink of ecstasy, he slides his foot out from under and you hear him mutter, "down girl."

as he's aged, joel has become less forgiving. almost too willing to put you in your place.

"p-please, please, joel." you plead, looking up at him with big round eyes.

without warning, his hand wraps around the silver cross necklace and tugs softly at it. joel's eyes were dark with power and lust.

"not yet." he grunts, toying with the necklace.

another whimper escapes you, louder than the last. joel tsks in response.

"now, what have i told ya'?" his voice was low raspy and full of weight.

you knew the phrase and what it meant. joel always made sure to remind you of it when you become impatient or too needy. a reminder that all good girls get rewarded in the end.

"all dogs go to heaven." you reply, struggling to look into his eyes.

"good girl." he purrs, releasing your pretty necklace.

joel takes a moment to drink in your current state. face flushed with embarrassment and arousal. he thought it was cute how you pretend to be ashamed of this side of yourself.

all it takes is three quick taps on his thick thighs for you to pounce on him.

"ya' make a real pretty lap dog, sweetheart." he mutters, nipping at your ear lobe and brushing a hand down your hair.

"missed you today." you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he didn't need you to tell him that because joel could feel now much you missed him. due to the lack of panties under your dress, his jeans were beginning to get soaked from your slick.

one thing about joel is he kisses like he wants to eat you alive. it's full of hunger. borderline cannibalistic.

a primal desire.

instead of responding with words, joel lets the two of you fall back onto the mattress. your hips start to grind down on his belt buckle while his hands squeeze your hips and ass.

joel's fingers part your lips, running up and down your slit, collecting your arousal. your back arches as he circles your hole. everything felt so right,

until your lower half is met with a sudden smack!

"uh, j-joel." you groan, coating his palm.

"stop tryin' get yourself off on my belt." he says sternly, laying down another sharp smack.

the hand on your ass moves up your back while his other hand slips two fingers past your tight velvety walls. without noticing, joel's hand inches towards your hair and yanks your head back.

"r-r-right there..." you moan, eyes screwed shut.

moving at an ungodly fast pace, joel manages to find that sweet spongey spot. the one that no one has ever taken the time to study before.

"saw you with daniel the other day by the barns." joel rambles, sounding slightly pissed. "ya'll looked awfully close."

it takes you a moment to fully understand what he meant. sure, you were hanging out with danny. he's been your friend for years now and there was nothing going on between you two.

either way, the thought of that guy being close to you set a fire in his mind. the way he touches your hair and pulls you in for a hug. things joel wishes he could do in public with you.

"danny's just a.... a f-friend!" you squeal, feeling close again.

joel chuckles from somewhere dark and deeply within his chest. the sound alone almost tips you over the edge. the worst part is joel knows it.

"a friend doesn't stare at your chest when they talk to ya'." he remarks, fighting back a groan when you sink your teeth into his collarbone.

"w-why do you even pretend to care?" you bite back with a glare.

joel almost paused but instead he went painfully slow. he knew you two weren't public for many reasons but none of them were because he didn't care about you.

in a split second, joel's other hand wraps tightly into your hair similar to before but this time his grip was rougher. the way you liked it.

"do you seriously think i don't care about you?" he asked, arching a brow at you.

every coherent thought of yours melted the second you felt a fire start in your tummy. something warm and new.

"joel..." you squirm, kicking your feet slightly with embarrassment of what might happen. "c-can't."

your eyes shut as a splash of slick follows your trembling orgasm. whimpers of joel's name and soft curses fall from your lips like scripture.

"that's my girl." he smirks. "betcha like leakin' all over your old man, huh?"

weakly, you nod. joel can tell that you're tired from your orgasm, legs still slightly shaking but that won't stop him from getting a taste of you.

"get on all fours." he instructs you with a sharp smack to your ass, without a doubt leaving a bruise.

you crawl over him, feeling his gaze on your cunt as he watches you clench around nothing. chest and stomach flat against the mattress, back arched and ass in the air. just waiting for him.

"could sit here and stare at her all day." he groans behind you. big hands roaming all over your thighs and ass.

without warning, joel sinks his teeth into the fat of your left cheek. your groans of pain and pleasure fill the room as your arousal drips onto his dark navy bedsheets.

"pleasepleaseplease, j-joel." you beg, wiggling your hips back a little. inching for his mouth. "i need—ah!"

suddenly, his warm tongue begins lapping up your slick. running the muscle through your folds before dipping inside of you. the taste reminded him of honey. sweet sweet honey.

"fuck, sweetheart." he moans into your pussy, barely lifting up to breathe. joel eats pussy like he's on death row. takes his time, covers every surface. he loves inhaling your addictive scent. "can't believe you're all mine."

mine. that's always what he says with his head between your thighs. claims you in his bedroom but forgets your name once he's outside.

"s–shut up." you hiss, finally sick of his shit.

joel pulls back quickly then spits directly onto your cunt. a loud gasp slips from your lips at the feeling.

"don't try and bite at me. i'll leave you untouched for the rest of the night while i get off here by myself." he threatens and he means it.

"s-sorry." you whimper, not wanting him to leave you.

joel goes back to feasting on you but your behavior doesn't go unnoticed by him. he knows it eats at you that he can't claim you publicly. both of you made that clear the first time he kissed you. your daddy's on the council and the town tolerated joel. no one would approve of this.

when he finally pulled off of you, leaving you wreaked and his sheets ruined. joel flips you over swiftly and gets on top of you, facing you again.

the first thing he noticed were the tears in your eyes as you tried not to look at him. joel hated seeing you like this.

"where'd those tears come from, sweet girl?" he coos, tilting your chin to get you to make eye contact with him.

you sniffle, feeling embarrassed for crying.

"it's nothin'." you reply, wrapping your legs around him. hoping that he will let this go and move on.

"tell me what's wrong."

you think about not answering or lying, but for some reason you just can't. joel listens to you take a deep breath and sigh.

"feels like one of these days, you're gonna shot me in the yard. ya' know, put me out of my misery sorta thing."

joel takes a moment to gather his thoughts. his face was unreadable to you. no real sign of emotion until you felt his left hand reach for your leg, lifting it over his shoulder slowly.

"joel, maybe we shouldn't– fuck!"

your words are cut short when his hips snap against yours. it was always a struggle to take him fully; and right now, you could feel him in your guts. the pace was rough, like joel had something to prove to you.

"no. i'm not putting ya' outta your misery or leaving ya' or any bullshit like that." he hisses, feeling your tight walls restrict his brutal pace.

you're at a lose for words. only able to moan for him. his hands play with your tits, rolling your buds between his fingers while nipping at your neck. his mouth settles right by your ear, groaning in it for a moment before speaking again.

"and i'm not fuckin' sharing you with daniel or anybody, sweetheart." his voice is dangerously low as he presses all of his weight down on you in a deliciously suffocating way. "so, cut this shit out and bark for me like the good girl you are."

once his thumb settled on your clit, rubbing in small focused circles, that's all it took for you to break.

"j-joel! shit, right t-there!" you squeal, clenching down on him.

"atta fuckin' girl." he grins, lifting up your other leg and sinking into you. "feelin' full yet? gonna let me mark ya' up? put my claim in you?"

your head was dizzy from his dirty mouth and dirtier actions. all you could do was nod and whimper against his lips.

"want me to knock ya' up?" he teases, hitting that spongy spot inside of you. the one that makes you see stars. "get ya' nice and round with my child? let the whole fuckin' town know that this old man put a baby in ya'? then would you believe that i care?"

joel couldn't be prouder then when he looks down at your fucked out face, just babbling incoherent worlds at him while nodding and staring at him like he hung the damn moon.

"w-want that, joel." you nod. "please, wanna feel you inside of me for days."

now it was joel's turn to feel flustered. your lips leave a trail of kisses on his jaw, making his cock twitch at the tenderness. for an older guy, joel still had stamina.

"don't worry, you've been a real good girl so i'll keep ya' nice and full of me." he groans, feeling you get closer to your high.

a loud pornographic moan of yours comes out when joel places his hand over your lower abdomen, feeling his imprint.

"j-joel, im gonna—"

a gush of your juices hit his pubic bone, coating the grey curly hairs there. joel doesn't take long to follow behind you, spilling ropes and ropes of his warm seed inside of you. even when you think he's done, he still manages to keep coming.

slightly overstimulated, you let your legs fall back on the sheets. joel finally pulls out, watching his cum spill out of you for a moment. two of his fingers slip inside of you, making sure it sticks.

"gonna spend all night shown you how much i care, sugar."

[thinkinonsense]

primal ✮⋆˙

joel miller x fem!reader warnings: secret relationship, smut, specifically joel from ep. 2 when he goes golfing, kinda role playing, crawling, eating it from the back (fem receiving), fingering, dog symbolism, corruption kink, doggy style (i had to), possessive!joel, age gap (25 and 60's), slight manhandling, spanking, boot riding, pussy spanks, edging, hair tugging, joel talks to your pussy, jealous!joel, lots of cum, slight angst, slight breeding kink, notes: heavily inspired from the songs 'dog years' and 'safe word' by halsey and the film 'secretary'. the ending is kinda rushed.

what joel and you have together is controversial to say the least. if anyone knew the truth about what you two do late at night together, neither of you would be able to show your faces again in town.

that thought didn't make either of you want to stop it though. if anything, it made you want each other more.

it's a quarter to eight when you unlock the side door of joel's house with the key he gave you. the sun has already set in the town of jackson, letting the long day rest heavy on you. what you needed more than anything in this moment was joel.

he knows you better than anyone else ever has. taking the time to open you up and study you. finding a way to tame you.

anxiously you sat on the floor of his bedroom; waiting for joel to come home. the room is dark except for the one lamp in the corner of the room, barely creating any light.

soon enough you hear keys jingling around in the door handle downstairs and your stomach flips with excitement at every one of his loud footsteps heading your way. as he steps inside and sits on the bed, joel lets out a low whistle.

the signal.

"ah, there's my girl." he says, watching you crawl on your hands and knees over to him.

the thin straps of your dress fall lazily off of your shoulders as you make your way over to him. when your finally settled in between his legs, joel's hand lightly touches your hair and moves down to your jaw, gripping it and lifting it up.

"long day, sweetheart?" he asks, moving his thumb to tug softly at your bottom lip.

you nod into his palm.

"ain't gotta worry now. i'll take good care of ya'."

joel's thumb pushes past your lips, allowing you to suck on it freely. you obey, letting him stretch and train your mouth as he pleases. never complaining when you nibble on the digit, letting your teeth glide over it teasingly.

you always get so lost in these moments that the only thing that breaks you out of them is when joel begins to tap his foot next to you.

"get on, babydoll."

his words create a warm tingle in between your thighs. slowly you hop onto the tip of his working boots. joel's never said it aloud but he adores the way your body wraps around his leg, holding on as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded.

a tiny whimper leaves your lips when you first move, feeling the pool of slick beneath you. joel can feel the way your body trembles with each grind.

your clit catches on the lace of his boots, adding a nice bit of friction. joel takes in the scene in front of him. your left cheek pressed against the inside of his denim covered thigh, moaning sweetly for him. as much as joel enjoys watching you contort with pleasure, he also loved denying you of it.

right on the brink of ecstasy, he slides his foot out from under and you hear him mutter, "down girl."

as he's aged, joel has become less forgiving. almost too willing to put you in your place.

"p-please, please, joel." you plead, looking up at him with big round eyes.

without warning, his hand wraps around the silver cross necklace and tugs softly at it. joel's eyes were dark with power and lust.

"not yet." he grunts, toying with the necklace.

another whimper escapes you, louder than the last. joel tsks in response.

"now, what have i told ya'?" his voice was low raspy and full of weight.

you knew the phrase and what it meant. joel always made sure to remind you of it when you become impatient or too needy. a reminder that all good girls get rewarded in the end.

"all dogs go to heaven." you reply, struggling to look into his eyes.

"good girl." he purrs, releasing your pretty necklace.

joel takes a moment to drink in your current state. face flushed with embarrassment and arousal. he thought it was cute how you pretend to be ashamed of this side of yourself.

all it takes is three quick taps on his thick thighs for you to pounce on him.

"ya' make a real pretty lap dog, sweetheart." he mutters, nipping at your ear lobe and brushing a hand down your hair.

"missed you today." you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he didn't need you to tell him that because joel could feel now much you missed him. due to the lack of panties under your dress, his jeans were beginning to get soaked from your slick.

one thing about joel is he kisses like he wants to eat you alive. it's full of hunger. borderline cannibalistic.

a primal desire.

instead of responding with words, joel lets the two of you fall back onto the mattress. your hips start to grind down on his belt buckle while his hands squeeze your hips and ass.

joel's fingers part your lips, running up and down your slit, collecting your arousal. your back arches as he circles your hole. everything felt so right,

until your lower half is met with a sudden smack!

"uh, j-joel." you groan, coating his palm.

"stop tryin' get yourself off on my belt." he says sternly, laying down another sharp smack.

the hand on your ass moves up your back while his other hand slips two fingers past your tight velvety walls. without noticing, joel's hand inches towards your hair and yanks your head back.

"r-r-right there..." you moan, eyes screwed shut.

moving at an ungodly fast pace, joel manages to find that sweet spongey spot. the one that no one has ever taken the time to study before.

"saw you with daniel the other day by the barns." joel rambles, sounding slightly pissed. "ya'll looked awfully close."

it takes you a moment to fully understand what he meant. sure, you were hanging out with danny. he's been your friend for years now and there was nothing going on between you two.

either way, the thought of that guy being close to you set a fire in his mind. the way he touches your hair and pulls you in for a hug. things joel wishes he could do in public with you.

"danny's just a.... a f-friend!" you squeal, feeling close again.

joel chuckles from somewhere dark and deeply within his chest. the sound alone almost tips you over the edge. the worst part is joel knows it.

"a friend doesn't stare at your chest when they talk to ya'." he remarks, fighting back a groan when you sink your teeth into his collarbone.

"w-why do you even pretend to care?" you bite back with a glare.

joel almost paused but instead he went painfully slow. he knew you two weren't public for many reasons but none of them were because he didn't care about you.

in a split second, joel's other hand wraps tightly into your hair similar to before but this time his grip was rougher. the way you liked it.

"do you seriously think i don't care about you?" he asked, arching a brow at you.

every coherent thought of yours melted the second you felt a fire start in your tummy. something warm and new.

"joel..." you squirm, kicking your feet slightly with embarrassment of what might happen. "c-can't."

your eyes shut as a splash of slick follows your trembling orgasm. whimpers of joel's name and soft curses fall from your lips like scripture.

"that's my girl." he smirks. "betcha like leakin' all over your old man, huh?"

weakly, you nod. joel can tell that you're tired from your orgasm, legs still slightly shaking but that won't stop him from getting a taste of you.

"get on all fours." he instructs you with a sharp smack to your ass, without a doubt leaving a bruise.

you crawl over him, feeling his gaze on your cunt as he watches you clench around nothing. chest and stomach flat against the mattress, back arched and ass in the air. just waiting for him.

"could sit here and stare at her all day." he groans behind you. big hands roaming all over your thighs and ass.

without warning, joel sinks his teeth into the fat of your left cheek. your groans of pain and pleasure fill the room as your arousal drips onto his dark navy bedsheets.

"pleasepleaseplease, j-joel." you beg, wiggling your hips back a little. inching for his mouth. "i need—ah!"

suddenly, his warm tongue begins lapping up your slick. running the muscle through your folds before dipping inside of you. the taste reminded him of honey. sweet sweet honey.

"fuck, sweetheart." he moans into your pussy, barely lifting up to breathe. joel eats pussy like he's on death row. takes his time, covers every surface. he loves inhaling your addictive scent. "can't believe you're all mine."

mine. that's always what he says with his head between your thighs. claims you in his bedroom but forgets your name once he's outside.

"s–shut up." you hiss, finally sick of his shit.

joel pulls back quickly then spits directly onto your cunt. a loud gasp slips from your lips at the feeling.

"don't try and bite at me. i'll leave you untouched for the rest of the night while i get off here by myself." he threatens and he means it.

"s-sorry." you whimper, not wanting him to leave you.

joel goes back to feasting on you but your behavior doesn't go unnoticed by him. he knows it eats at you that he can't claim you publicly. both of you made that clear the first time he kissed you. your daddy's on the council and the town tolerated joel. no one would approve of this.

when he finally pulled off of you, leaving you wreaked and his sheets ruined. joel flips you over swiftly and gets on top of you, facing you again.

the first thing he noticed were the tears in your eyes as you tried not to look at him. joel hated seeing you like this.

"where'd those tears come from, sweet girl?" he coos, tilting your chin to get you to make eye contact with him.

you sniffle, feeling embarrassed for crying.

"it's nothin'." you reply, wrapping your legs around him. hoping that he will let this go and move on.

"tell me what's wrong."

you think about not answering or lying, but for some reason you just can't. joel listens to you take a deep breath and sigh.

"feels like one of these days, you're gonna shot me in the yard. ya' know, put me out of my misery sorta thing."

joel takes a moment to gather his thoughts. his face was unreadable to you. no real sign of emotion until you felt his left hand reach for your leg, lifting it over his shoulder slowly.

"joel, maybe we shouldn't– fuck!"

your words are cut short when his hips snap against yours. it was always a struggle to take him fully; and right now, you could feel him in your guts. the pace was rough, like joel had something to prove to you.

"no. i'm not putting ya' outta your misery or leaving ya' or any bullshit like that." he hisses, feeling your tight walls restrict his brutal pace.

you're at a lose for words. only able to moan for him. his hands play with your tits, rolling your buds between his fingers while nipping at your neck. his mouth settles right by your ear, groaning in it for a moment before speaking again.

"and i'm not fuckin' sharing you with daniel or anybody, sweetheart." his voice is dangerously low as he presses all of his weight down on you in a deliciously suffocating way. "so, cut this shit out and bark for me like the good girl you are."

once his thumb settled on your clit, rubbing in small focused circles, that's all it took for you to break.

"j-joel! shit, right t-there!" you squeal, clenching down on him.

"atta fuckin' girl." he grins, lifting up your other leg and sinking into you. "feelin' full yet? gonna let me mark ya' up? put my claim in you?"

your head was dizzy from his dirty mouth and dirtier actions. all you could do was nod and whimper against his lips.

"want me to knock ya' up?" he teases, hitting that spongy spot inside of you. the one that makes you see stars. "get ya' nice and round with my child? let the whole fuckin' town know that this old man put a baby in ya'? then would you believe that i care?"

joel couldn't be prouder then when he looks down at your fucked out face, just babbling incoherent worlds at him while nodding and staring at him like he hung the damn moon.

"w-want that, joel." you nod. "please, wanna feel you inside of me for days."

now it was joel's turn to feel flustered. your lips leave a trail of kisses on his jaw, making his cock twitch at the tenderness. for an older guy, joel still had stamina.

"don't worry, you've been a real good girl so i'll keep ya' nice and full of me." he groans, feeling you get closer to your high.

a loud pornographic moan of yours comes out when joel places his hand over your lower abdomen, feeling his imprint.

"j-joel, im gonna—"

a gush of your juices hit his pubic bone, coating the grey curly hairs there. joel doesn't take long to follow behind you, spilling ropes and ropes of his warm seed inside of you. even when you think he's done, he still manages to keep coming.

slightly overstimulated, you let your legs fall back on the sheets. joel finally pulls out, watching his cum spill out of you for a moment. two of his fingers slip inside of you, making sure it sticks.

"gonna spend all night shown you how much i care, sugar."

[thinkinonsense]

send me any joel or logan thoughts!! need to talk about them! plus any thoughts on the recent primal blurb or if it's meant to be series?<3

[thinkinonsense]

primal ✮⋆˙

joel miller x fem!reader warnings: secret relationship, smut, specifically joel from ep. 2 when he goes golfing, kinda role playing, crawling, eating it from the back (fem receiving), fingering, dog symbolism, corruption kink, doggy style (i had to), possessive!joel, age gap (25 and 60's), slight manhandling, spanking, boot riding, pussy spanks, edging, hair tugging, joel talks to your pussy, jealous!joel, lots of cum, slight angst, slight breeding kink, notes: heavily inspired from the songs 'dog years' and 'safe word' by halsey and the film 'secretary'. the ending is kinda rushed.

what joel and you have together is controversial to say the least. if anyone knew the truth about what you two do late at night together, neither of you would be able to show your faces again in town.

that thought didn't make either of you want to stop it though. if anything, it made you want each other more.

it's a quarter to eight when you unlock the side door of joel's house with the key he gave you. the sun has already set in the town of jackson, letting the long day rest heavy on you. what you needed more than anything in this moment was joel.

he knows you better than anyone else ever has. taking the time to open you up and study you. finding a way to tame you.

anxiously you sat on the floor of his bedroom; waiting for joel to come home. the room is dark except for the one lamp in the corner of the room, barely creating any light.

soon enough you hear keys jingling around in the door handle downstairs and your stomach flips with excitement at every one of his loud footsteps heading your way. as he steps inside and sits on the bed, joel lets out a low whistle.

the signal.

"ah, there's my girl." he says, watching you crawl on your hands and knees over to him.

the thin straps of your dress fall lazily off of your shoulders as you make your way over to him. when your finally settled in between his legs, joel's hand lightly touches your hair and moves down to your jaw, gripping it and lifting it up.

"long day, sweetheart?" he asks, moving his thumb to tug softly at your bottom lip.

you nod into his palm.

"ain't gotta worry now. i'll take good care of ya'."

joel's thumb pushes past your lips, allowing you to suck on it freely. you obey, letting him stretch and train your mouth as he pleases. never complaining when you nibble on the digit, letting your teeth glide over it teasingly.

you always get so lost in these moments that the only thing that breaks you out of them is when joel begins to tap his foot next to you.

"get on, babydoll."

his words create a warm tingle in between your thighs. slowly you hop onto the tip of his working boots. joel's never said it aloud but he adores the way your body wraps around his leg, holding on as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded.

a tiny whimper leaves your lips when you first move, feeling the pool of slick beneath you. joel can feel the way your body trembles with each grind.

your clit catches on the lace of his boots, adding a nice bit of friction. joel takes in the scene in front of him. your left cheek pressed against the inside of his denim covered thigh, moaning sweetly for him. as much as joel enjoys watching you contort with pleasure, he also loved denying you of it.

right on the brink of ecstasy, he slides his foot out from under and you hear him mutter, "down girl."

as he's aged, joel has become less forgiving. almost too willing to put you in your place.

"p-please, please, joel." you plead, looking up at him with big round eyes.

without warning, his hand wraps around the silver cross necklace and tugs softly at it. joel's eyes were dark with power and lust.

"not yet." he grunts, toying with the necklace.

another whimper escapes you, louder than the last. joel tsks in response.

"now, what have i told ya'?" his voice was low raspy and full of weight.

you knew the phrase and what it meant. joel always made sure to remind you of it when you become impatient or too needy. a reminder that all good girls get rewarded in the end.

"all dogs go to heaven." you reply, struggling to look into his eyes.

"good girl." he purrs, releasing your pretty necklace.

joel takes a moment to drink in your current state. face flushed with embarrassment and arousal. he thought it was cute how you pretend to be ashamed of this side of yourself.

all it takes is three quick taps on his thick thighs for you to pounce on him.

"ya' make a real pretty lap dog, sweetheart." he mutters, nipping at your ear lobe and brushing a hand down your hair.

"missed you today." you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he didn't need you to tell him that because joel could feel now much you missed him. due to the lack of panties under your dress, his jeans were beginning to get soaked from your slick.

one thing about joel is he kisses like he wants to eat you alive. it's full of hunger. borderline cannibalistic.

a primal desire.

instead of responding with words, joel lets the two of you fall back onto the mattress. your hips start to grind down on his belt buckle while his hands squeeze your hips and ass.

joel's fingers part your lips, running up and down your slit, collecting your arousal. your back arches as he circles your hole. everything felt so right,

until your lower half is met with a sudden smack!

"uh, j-joel." you groan, coating his palm.

"stop tryin' get yourself off on my belt." he says sternly, laying down another sharp smack.

the hand on your ass moves up your back while his other hand slips two fingers past your tight velvety walls. without noticing, joel's hand inches towards your hair and yanks your head back.

"r-r-right there..." you moan, eyes screwed shut.

moving at an ungodly fast pace, joel manages to find that sweet spongey spot. the one that no one has ever taken the time to study before.

"saw you with daniel the other day by the barns." joel rambles, sounding slightly pissed. "ya'll looked awfully close."

it takes you a moment to fully understand what he meant. sure, you were hanging out with danny. he's been your friend for years now and there was nothing going on between you two.

either way, the thought of that guy being close to you set a fire in his mind. the way he touches your hair and pulls you in for a hug. things joel wishes he could do in public with you.

"danny's just a.... a f-friend!" you squeal, feeling close again.

joel chuckles from somewhere dark and deeply within his chest. the sound alone almost tips you over the edge. the worst part is joel knows it.

"a friend doesn't stare at your chest when they talk to ya'." he remarks, fighting back a groan when you sink your teeth into his collarbone.

"w-why do you even pretend to care?" you bite back with a glare.

joel almost paused but instead he went painfully slow. he knew you two weren't public for many reasons but none of them were because he didn't care about you.

in a split second, joel's other hand wraps tightly into your hair similar to before but this time his grip was rougher. the way you liked it.

"do you seriously think i don't care about you?" he asked, arching a brow at you.

every coherent thought of yours melted the second you felt a fire start in your tummy. something warm and new.

"joel..." you squirm, kicking your feet slightly with embarrassment of what might happen. "c-can't."

your eyes shut as a splash of slick follows your trembling orgasm. whimpers of joel's name and soft curses fall from your lips like scripture.

"that's my girl." he smirks. "betcha like leakin' all over your old man, huh?"

weakly, you nod. joel can tell that you're tired from your orgasm, legs still slightly shaking but that won't stop him from getting a taste of you.

"get on all fours." he instructs you with a sharp smack to your ass, without a doubt leaving a bruise.

you crawl over him, feeling his gaze on your cunt as he watches you clench around nothing. chest and stomach flat against the mattress, back arched and ass in the air. just waiting for him.

"could sit here and stare at her all day." he groans behind you. big hands roaming all over your thighs and ass.

without warning, joel sinks his teeth into the fat of your left cheek. your groans of pain and pleasure fill the room as your arousal drips onto his dark navy bedsheets.

"pleasepleaseplease, j-joel." you beg, wiggling your hips back a little. inching for his mouth. "i need—ah!"

suddenly, his warm tongue begins lapping up your slick. running the muscle through your folds before dipping inside of you. the taste reminded him of honey. sweet sweet honey.

"fuck, sweetheart." he moans into your pussy, barely lifting up to breathe. joel eats pussy like he's on death row. takes his time, covers every surface. he loves inhaling your addictive scent. "can't believe you're all mine."

mine. that's always what he says with his head between your thighs. claims you in his bedroom but forgets your name once he's outside.

"s–shut up." you hiss, finally sick of his shit.

joel pulls back quickly then spits directly onto your cunt. a loud gasp slips from your lips at the feeling.

"don't try and bite at me. i'll leave you untouched for the rest of the night while i get off here by myself." he threatens and he means it.

"s-sorry." you whimper, not wanting him to leave you.

joel goes back to feasting on you but your behavior doesn't go unnoticed by him. he knows it eats at you that he can't claim you publicly. both of you made that clear the first time he kissed you. your daddy's on the council and the town tolerated joel. no one would approve of this.

when he finally pulled off of you, leaving you wreaked and his sheets ruined. joel flips you over swiftly and gets on top of you, facing you again.

the first thing he noticed were the tears in your eyes as you tried not to look at him. joel hated seeing you like this.

"where'd those tears come from, sweet girl?" he coos, tilting your chin to get you to make eye contact with him.

you sniffle, feeling embarrassed for crying.

"it's nothin'." you reply, wrapping your legs around him. hoping that he will let this go and move on.

"tell me what's wrong."

you think about not answering or lying, but for some reason you just can't. joel listens to you take a deep breath and sigh.

"feels like one of these days, you're gonna shot me in the yard. ya' know, put me out of my misery sorta thing."

joel takes a moment to gather his thoughts. his face was unreadable to you. no real sign of emotion until you felt his left hand reach for your leg, lifting it over his shoulder slowly.

"joel, maybe we shouldn't– fuck!"

your words are cut short when his hips snap against yours. it was always a struggle to take him fully; and right now, you could feel him in your guts. the pace was rough, like joel had something to prove to you.

"no. i'm not putting ya' outta your misery or leaving ya' or any bullshit like that." he hisses, feeling your tight walls restrict his brutal pace.

you're at a lose for words. only able to moan for him. his hands play with your tits, rolling your buds between his fingers while nipping at your neck. his mouth settles right by your ear, groaning in it for a moment before speaking again.

"and i'm not fuckin' sharing you with daniel or anybody, sweetheart." his voice is dangerously low as he presses all of his weight down on you in a deliciously suffocating way. "so, cut this shit out and bark for me like the good girl you are."

once his thumb settled on your clit, rubbing in small focused circles, that's all it took for you to break.

"j-joel! shit, right t-there!" you squeal, clenching down on him.

"atta fuckin' girl." he grins, lifting up your other leg and sinking into you. "feelin' full yet? gonna let me mark ya' up? put my claim in you?"

your head was dizzy from his dirty mouth and dirtier actions. all you could do was nod and whimper against his lips.

"want me to knock ya' up?" he teases, hitting that spongy spot inside of you. the one that makes you see stars. "get ya' nice and round with my child? let the whole fuckin' town know that this old man put a baby in ya'? then would you believe that i care?"

joel couldn't be prouder then when he looks down at your fucked out face, just babbling incoherent worlds at him while nodding and staring at him like he hung the damn moon.

"w-want that, joel." you nod. "please, wanna feel you inside of me for days."

now it was joel's turn to feel flustered. your lips leave a trail of kisses on his jaw, making his cock twitch at the tenderness. for an older guy, joel still had stamina.

"don't worry, you've been a real good girl so i'll keep ya' nice and full of me." he groans, feeling you get closer to your high.

a loud pornographic moan of yours comes out when joel places his hand over your lower abdomen, feeling his imprint.

"j-joel, im gonna—"

a gush of your juices hit his pubic bone, coating the grey curly hairs there. joel doesn't take long to follow behind you, spilling ropes and ropes of his warm seed inside of you. even when you think he's done, he still manages to keep coming.

slightly overstimulated, you let your legs fall back on the sheets. joel finally pulls out, watching his cum spill out of you for a moment. two of his fingers slip inside of you, making sure it sticks.

"gonna spend all night shown you how much i care, sugar."

[thinkinonsense]

primal ✮⋆˙

joel miller x fem!reader warnings: secret relationship, smut, specifically joel from ep. 2 when he goes golfing, kinda role playing, crawling, eating it from the back (fem receiving), fingering, dog symbolism, corruption kink, doggy style (i had to), possessive!joel, age gap (25 and 60's), slight manhandling, spanking, boot riding, pussy spanks, edging, hair tugging, joel talks to your pussy, jealous!joel, lots of cum, slight angst, slight breeding kink, notes: heavily inspired from the songs 'dog years' and 'safe word' by halsey and the film 'secretary'. the ending is kinda rushed.

what joel and you have together is controversial to say the least. if anyone knew the truth about what you two do late at night together, neither of you would be able to show your faces again in town.

that thought didn't make either of you want to stop it though. if anything, it made you want each other more.

it's a quarter to eight when you unlock the side door of joel's house with the key he gave you. the sun has already set in the town of jackson, letting the long day rest heavy on you. what you needed more than anything in this moment was joel.

he knows you better than anyone else ever has. taking the time to open you up and study you. finding a way to tame you.

anxiously you sat on the floor of his bedroom; waiting for joel to come home. the room is dark except for the one lamp in the corner of the room, barely creating any light.

soon enough you hear keys jingling around in the door handle downstairs and your stomach flips with excitement at every one of his loud footsteps heading your way. as he steps inside and sits on the bed, joel lets out a low whistle.

the signal.

"ah, there's my girl." he says, watching you crawl on your hands and knees over to him.

the thin straps of your dress fall lazily off of your shoulders as you make your way over to him. when your finally settled in between his legs, joel's hand lightly touches your hair and moves down to your jaw, gripping it and lifting it up.

"long day, sweetheart?" he asks, moving his thumb to tug softly at your bottom lip.

you nod into his palm.

"ain't gotta worry now. i'll take good care of ya'."

joel's thumb pushes past your lips, allowing you to suck on it freely. you obey, letting him stretch and train your mouth as he pleases. never complaining when you nibble on the digit, letting your teeth glide over it teasingly.

you always get so lost in these moments that the only thing that breaks you out of them is when joel begins to tap his foot next to you.

"get on, babydoll."

his words create a warm tingle in between your thighs. slowly you hop onto the tip of his working boots. joel's never said it aloud but he adores the way your body wraps around his leg, holding on as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded.

a tiny whimper leaves your lips when you first move, feeling the pool of slick beneath you. joel can feel the way your body trembles with each grind.

your clit catches on the lace of his boots, adding a nice bit of friction. joel takes in the scene in front of him. your left cheek pressed against the inside of his denim covered thigh, moaning sweetly for him. as much as joel enjoys watching you contort with pleasure, he also loved denying you of it.

right on the brink of ecstasy, he slides his foot out from under and you hear him mutter, "down girl."

as he's aged, joel has become less forgiving. almost too willing to put you in your place.

"p-please, please, joel." you plead, looking up at him with big round eyes.

without warning, his hand wraps around the silver cross necklace and tugs softly at it. joel's eyes were dark with power and lust.

"not yet." he grunts, toying with the necklace.

another whimper escapes you, louder than the last. joel tsks in response.

"now, what have i told ya'?" his voice was low raspy and full of weight.

you knew the phrase and what it meant. joel always made sure to remind you of it when you become impatient or too needy. a reminder that all good girls get rewarded in the end.

"all dogs go to heaven." you reply, struggling to look into his eyes.

"good girl." he purrs, releasing your pretty necklace.

joel takes a moment to drink in your current state. face flushed with embarrassment and arousal. he thought it was cute how you pretend to be ashamed of this side of yourself.

all it takes is three quick taps on his thick thighs for you to pounce on him.

"ya' make a real pretty lap dog, sweetheart." he mutters, nipping at your ear lobe and brushing a hand down your hair.

"missed you today." you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he didn't need you to tell him that because joel could feel now much you missed him. due to the lack of panties under your dress, his jeans were beginning to get soaked from your slick.

one thing about joel is he kisses like he wants to eat you alive. it's full of hunger. borderline cannibalistic.

a primal desire.

instead of responding with words, joel lets the two of you fall back onto the mattress. your hips start to grind down on his belt buckle while his hands squeeze your hips and ass.

joel's fingers part your lips, running up and down your slit, collecting your arousal. your back arches as he circles your hole. everything felt so right,

until your lower half is met with a sudden smack!

"uh, j-joel." you groan, coating his palm.

"stop tryin' get yourself off on my belt." he says sternly, laying down another sharp smack.

the hand on your ass moves up your back while his other hand slips two fingers past your tight velvety walls. without noticing, joel's hand inches towards your hair and yanks your head back.

"r-r-right there..." you moan, eyes screwed shut.

moving at an ungodly fast pace, joel manages to find that sweet spongey spot. the one that no one has ever taken the time to study before.

"saw you with daniel the other day by the barns." joel rambles, sounding slightly pissed. "ya'll looked awfully close."

it takes you a moment to fully understand what he meant. sure, you were hanging out with danny. he's been your friend for years now and there was nothing going on between you two.

either way, the thought of that guy being close to you set a fire in his mind. the way he touches your hair and pulls you in for a hug. things joel wishes he could do in public with you.

"danny's just a.... a f-friend!" you squeal, feeling close again.

joel chuckles from somewhere dark and deeply within his chest. the sound alone almost tips you over the edge. the worst part is joel knows it.

"a friend doesn't stare at your chest when they talk to ya'." he remarks, fighting back a groan when you sink your teeth into his collarbone.

"w-why do you even pretend to care?" you bite back with a glare.

joel almost paused but instead he went painfully slow. he knew you two weren't public for many reasons but none of them were because he didn't care about you.

in a split second, joel's other hand wraps tightly into your hair similar to before but this time his grip was rougher. the way you liked it.

"do you seriously think i don't care about you?" he asked, arching a brow at you.

every coherent thought of yours melted the second you felt a fire start in your tummy. something warm and new.

"joel..." you squirm, kicking your feet slightly with embarrassment of what might happen. "c-can't."

your eyes shut as a splash of slick follows your trembling orgasm. whimpers of joel's name and soft curses fall from your lips like scripture.

"that's my girl." he smirks. "betcha like leakin' all over your old man, huh?"

weakly, you nod. joel can tell that you're tired from your orgasm, legs still slightly shaking but that won't stop him from getting a taste of you.

"get on all fours." he instructs you with a sharp smack to your ass, without a doubt leaving a bruise.

you crawl over him, feeling his gaze on your cunt as he watches you clench around nothing. chest and stomach flat against the mattress, back arched and ass in the air. just waiting for him.

"could sit here and stare at her all day." he groans behind you. big hands roaming all over your thighs and ass.

without warning, joel sinks his teeth into the fat of your left cheek. your groans of pain and pleasure fill the room as your arousal drips onto his dark navy bedsheets.

"pleasepleaseplease, j-joel." you beg, wiggling your hips back a little. inching for his mouth. "i need—ah!"

suddenly, his warm tongue begins lapping up your slick. running the muscle through your folds before dipping inside of you. the taste reminded him of honey. sweet sweet honey.

"fuck, sweetheart." he moans into your pussy, barely lifting up to breathe. joel eats pussy like he's on death row. takes his time, covers every surface. he loves inhaling your addictive scent. "can't believe you're all mine."

mine. that's always what he says with his head between your thighs. claims you in his bedroom but forgets your name once he's outside.

"s–shut up." you hiss, finally sick of his shit.

joel pulls back quickly then spits directly onto your cunt. a loud gasp slips from your lips at the feeling.

"don't try and bite at me. i'll leave you untouched for the rest of the night while i get off here by myself." he threatens and he means it.

"s-sorry." you whimper, not wanting him to leave you.

joel goes back to feasting on you but your behavior doesn't go unnoticed by him. he knows it eats at you that he can't claim you publicly. both of you made that clear the first time he kissed you. your daddy's on the council and the town tolerated joel. no one would approve of this.

when he finally pulled off of you, leaving you wreaked and his sheets ruined. joel flips you over swiftly and gets on top of you, facing you again.

the first thing he noticed were the tears in your eyes as you tried not to look at him. joel hated seeing you like this.

"where'd those tears come from, sweet girl?" he coos, tilting your chin to get you to make eye contact with him.

you sniffle, feeling embarrassed for crying.

"it's nothin'." you reply, wrapping your legs around him. hoping that he will let this go and move on.

"tell me what's wrong."

you think about not answering or lying, but for some reason you just can't. joel listens to you take a deep breath and sigh.

"feels like one of these days, you're gonna shot me in the yard. ya' know, put me out of my misery sorta thing."

joel takes a moment to gather his thoughts. his face was unreadable to you. no real sign of emotion until you felt his left hand reach for your leg, lifting it over his shoulder slowly.

"joel, maybe we shouldn't– fuck!"

your words are cut short when his hips snap against yours. it was always a struggle to take him fully; and right now, you could feel him in your guts. the pace was rough, like joel had something to prove to you.

"no. i'm not putting ya' outta your misery or leaving ya' or any bullshit like that." he hisses, feeling your tight walls restrict his brutal pace.

you're at a lose for words. only able to moan for him. his hands play with your tits, rolling your buds between his fingers while nipping at your neck. his mouth settles right by your ear, groaning in it for a moment before speaking again.

"and i'm not fuckin' sharing you with daniel or anybody, sweetheart." his voice is dangerously low as he presses all of his weight down on you in a deliciously suffocating way. "so, cut this shit out and bark for me like the good girl you are."

once his thumb settled on your clit, rubbing in small focused circles, that's all it took for you to break.

"j-joel! shit, right t-there!" you squeal, clenching down on him.

"atta fuckin' girl." he grins, lifting up your other leg and sinking into you. "feelin' full yet? gonna let me mark ya' up? put my claim in you?"

your head was dizzy from his dirty mouth and dirtier actions. all you could do was nod and whimper against his lips.

"want me to knock ya' up?" he teases, hitting that spongy spot inside of you. the one that makes you see stars. "get ya' nice and round with my child? let the whole fuckin' town know that this old man put a baby in ya'? then would you believe that i care?"

joel couldn't be prouder then when he looks down at your fucked out face, just babbling incoherent worlds at him while nodding and staring at him like he hung the damn moon.

"w-want that, joel." you nod. "please, wanna feel you inside of me for days."

now it was joel's turn to feel flustered. your lips leave a trail of kisses on his jaw, making his cock twitch at the tenderness. for an older guy, joel still had stamina.

"don't worry, you've been a real good girl so i'll keep ya' nice and full of me." he groans, feeling you get closer to your high.

a loud pornographic moan of yours comes out when joel places his hand over your lower abdomen, feeling his imprint.

"j-joel, im gonna—"

a gush of your juices hit his pubic bone, coating the grey curly hairs there. joel doesn't take long to follow behind you, spilling ropes and ropes of his warm seed inside of you. even when you think he's done, he still manages to keep coming.

slightly overstimulated, you let your legs fall back on the sheets. joel finally pulls out, watching his cum spill out of you for a moment. two of his fingers slip inside of you, making sure it sticks.

"gonna spend all night shown you how much i care, sugar."

[thinkinonsense]

send me any joel or logan thoughts!! need to talk about them! plus any thoughts on the recent primal blurb or if it's meant to be series?<3

[thinkinonsense]

primal ✮⋆˙

joel miller x fem!reader warnings: secret relationship, smut, specifically joel from ep. 2 when he goes golfing, kinda role playing, crawling, eating it from the back (fem receiving), fingering, dog symbolism, corruption kink, doggy style (i had to), possessive!joel, age gap (25 and 60's), slight manhandling, spanking, boot riding, pussy spanks, edging, hair tugging, joel talks to your pussy, jealous!joel, lots of cum, slight angst, slight breeding kink, notes: heavily inspired from the songs 'dog years' and 'safe word' by halsey and the film 'secretary'. the ending is kinda rushed.

what joel and you have together is controversial to say the least. if anyone knew the truth about what you two do late at night together, neither of you would be able to show your faces again in town.

that thought didn't make either of you want to stop it though. if anything, it made you want each other more.

it's a quarter to eight when you unlock the side door of joel's house with the key he gave you. the sun has already set in the town of jackson, letting the long day rest heavy on you. what you needed more than anything in this moment was joel.

he knows you better than anyone else ever has. taking the time to open you up and study you. finding a way to tame you.

anxiously you sat on the floor of his bedroom; waiting for joel to come home. the room is dark except for the one lamp in the corner of the room, barely creating any light.

soon enough you hear keys jingling around in the door handle downstairs and your stomach flips with excitement at every one of his loud footsteps heading your way. as he steps inside and sits on the bed, joel lets out a low whistle.

the signal.

"ah, there's my girl." he says, watching you crawl on your hands and knees over to him.

the thin straps of your dress fall lazily off of your shoulders as you make your way over to him. when your finally settled in between his legs, joel's hand lightly touches your hair and moves down to your jaw, gripping it and lifting it up.

"long day, sweetheart?" he asks, moving his thumb to tug softly at your bottom lip.

you nod into his palm.

"ain't gotta worry now. i'll take good care of ya'."

joel's thumb pushes past your lips, allowing you to suck on it freely. you obey, letting him stretch and train your mouth as he pleases. never complaining when you nibble on the digit, letting your teeth glide over it teasingly.

you always get so lost in these moments that the only thing that breaks you out of them is when joel begins to tap his foot next to you.

"get on, babydoll."

his words create a warm tingle in between your thighs. slowly you hop onto the tip of his working boots. joel's never said it aloud but he adores the way your body wraps around his leg, holding on as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded.

a tiny whimper leaves your lips when you first move, feeling the pool of slick beneath you. joel can feel the way your body trembles with each grind.

your clit catches on the lace of his boots, adding a nice bit of friction. joel takes in the scene in front of him. your left cheek pressed against the inside of his denim covered thigh, moaning sweetly for him. as much as joel enjoys watching you contort with pleasure, he also loved denying you of it.

right on the brink of ecstasy, he slides his foot out from under and you hear him mutter, "down girl."

as he's aged, joel has become less forgiving. almost too willing to put you in your place.

"p-please, please, joel." you plead, looking up at him with big round eyes.

without warning, his hand wraps around the silver cross necklace and tugs softly at it. joel's eyes were dark with power and lust.

"not yet." he grunts, toying with the necklace.

another whimper escapes you, louder than the last. joel tsks in response.

"now, what have i told ya'?" his voice was low raspy and full of weight.

you knew the phrase and what it meant. joel always made sure to remind you of it when you become impatient or too needy. a reminder that all good girls get rewarded in the end.

"all dogs go to heaven." you reply, struggling to look into his eyes.

"good girl." he purrs, releasing your pretty necklace.

joel takes a moment to drink in your current state. face flushed with embarrassment and arousal. he thought it was cute how you pretend to be ashamed of this side of yourself.

all it takes is three quick taps on his thick thighs for you to pounce on him.

"ya' make a real pretty lap dog, sweetheart." he mutters, nipping at your ear lobe and brushing a hand down your hair.

"missed you today." you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he didn't need you to tell him that because joel could feel now much you missed him. due to the lack of panties under your dress, his jeans were beginning to get soaked from your slick.

one thing about joel is he kisses like he wants to eat you alive. it's full of hunger. borderline cannibalistic.

a primal desire.

instead of responding with words, joel lets the two of you fall back onto the mattress. your hips start to grind down on his belt buckle while his hands squeeze your hips and ass.

joel's fingers part your lips, running up and down your slit, collecting your arousal. your back arches as he circles your hole. everything felt so right,

until your lower half is met with a sudden smack!

"uh, j-joel." you groan, coating his palm.

"stop tryin' get yourself off on my belt." he says sternly, laying down another sharp smack.

the hand on your ass moves up your back while his other hand slips two fingers past your tight velvety walls. without noticing, joel's hand inches towards your hair and yanks your head back.

"r-r-right there..." you moan, eyes screwed shut.

moving at an ungodly fast pace, joel manages to find that sweet spongey spot. the one that no one has ever taken the time to study before.

"saw you with daniel the other day by the barns." joel rambles, sounding slightly pissed. "ya'll looked awfully close."

it takes you a moment to fully understand what he meant. sure, you were hanging out with danny. he's been your friend for years now and there was nothing going on between you two.

either way, the thought of that guy being close to you set a fire in his mind. the way he touches your hair and pulls you in for a hug. things joel wishes he could do in public with you.

"danny's just a.... a f-friend!" you squeal, feeling close again.

joel chuckles from somewhere dark and deeply within his chest. the sound alone almost tips you over the edge. the worst part is joel knows it.

"a friend doesn't stare at your chest when they talk to ya'." he remarks, fighting back a groan when you sink your teeth into his collarbone.

"w-why do you even pretend to care?" you bite back with a glare.

joel almost paused but instead he went painfully slow. he knew you two weren't public for many reasons but none of them were because he didn't care about you.

in a split second, joel's other hand wraps tightly into your hair similar to before but this time his grip was rougher. the way you liked it.

"do you seriously think i don't care about you?" he asked, arching a brow at you.

every coherent thought of yours melted the second you felt a fire start in your tummy. something warm and new.

"joel..." you squirm, kicking your feet slightly with embarrassment of what might happen. "c-can't."

your eyes shut as a splash of slick follows your trembling orgasm. whimpers of joel's name and soft curses fall from your lips like scripture.

"that's my girl." he smirks. "betcha like leakin' all over your old man, huh?"

weakly, you nod. joel can tell that you're tired from your orgasm, legs still slightly shaking but that won't stop him from getting a taste of you.

"get on all fours." he instructs you with a sharp smack to your ass, without a doubt leaving a bruise.

you crawl over him, feeling his gaze on your cunt as he watches you clench around nothing. chest and stomach flat against the mattress, back arched and ass in the air. just waiting for him.

"could sit here and stare at her all day." he groans behind you. big hands roaming all over your thighs and ass.

without warning, joel sinks his teeth into the fat of your left cheek. your groans of pain and pleasure fill the room as your arousal drips onto his dark navy bedsheets.

"pleasepleaseplease, j-joel." you beg, wiggling your hips back a little. inching for his mouth. "i need—ah!"

suddenly, his warm tongue begins lapping up your slick. running the muscle through your folds before dipping inside of you. the taste reminded him of honey. sweet sweet honey.

"fuck, sweetheart." he moans into your pussy, barely lifting up to breathe. joel eats pussy like he's on death row. takes his time, covers every surface. he loves inhaling your addictive scent. "can't believe you're all mine."

mine. that's always what he says with his head between your thighs. claims you in his bedroom but forgets your name once he's outside.

"s–shut up." you hiss, finally sick of his shit.

joel pulls back quickly then spits directly onto your cunt. a loud gasp slips from your lips at the feeling.

"don't try and bite at me. i'll leave you untouched for the rest of the night while i get off here by myself." he threatens and he means it.

"s-sorry." you whimper, not wanting him to leave you.

joel goes back to feasting on you but your behavior doesn't go unnoticed by him. he knows it eats at you that he can't claim you publicly. both of you made that clear the first time he kissed you. your daddy's on the council and the town tolerated joel. no one would approve of this.

when he finally pulled off of you, leaving you wreaked and his sheets ruined. joel flips you over swiftly and gets on top of you, facing you again.

the first thing he noticed were the tears in your eyes as you tried not to look at him. joel hated seeing you like this.

"where'd those tears come from, sweet girl?" he coos, tilting your chin to get you to make eye contact with him.

you sniffle, feeling embarrassed for crying.

"it's nothin'." you reply, wrapping your legs around him. hoping that he will let this go and move on.

"tell me what's wrong."

you think about not answering or lying, but for some reason you just can't. joel listens to you take a deep breath and sigh.

"feels like one of these days, you're gonna shot me in the yard. ya' know, put me out of my misery sorta thing."

joel takes a moment to gather his thoughts. his face was unreadable to you. no real sign of emotion until you felt his left hand reach for your leg, lifting it over his shoulder slowly.

"joel, maybe we shouldn't– fuck!"

your words are cut short when his hips snap against yours. it was always a struggle to take him fully; and right now, you could feel him in your guts. the pace was rough, like joel had something to prove to you.

"no. i'm not putting ya' outta your misery or leaving ya' or any bullshit like that." he hisses, feeling your tight walls restrict his brutal pace.

you're at a lose for words. only able to moan for him. his hands play with your tits, rolling your buds between his fingers while nipping at your neck. his mouth settles right by your ear, groaning in it for a moment before speaking again.

"and i'm not fuckin' sharing you with daniel or anybody, sweetheart." his voice is dangerously low as he presses all of his weight down on you in a deliciously suffocating way. "so, cut this shit out and bark for me like the good girl you are."

once his thumb settled on your clit, rubbing in small focused circles, that's all it took for you to break.

"j-joel! shit, right t-there!" you squeal, clenching down on him.

"atta fuckin' girl." he grins, lifting up your other leg and sinking into you. "feelin' full yet? gonna let me mark ya' up? put my claim in you?"

your head was dizzy from his dirty mouth and dirtier actions. all you could do was nod and whimper against his lips.

"want me to knock ya' up?" he teases, hitting that spongy spot inside of you. the one that makes you see stars. "get ya' nice and round with my child? let the whole fuckin' town know that this old man put a baby in ya'? then would you believe that i care?"

joel couldn't be prouder then when he looks down at your fucked out face, just babbling incoherent worlds at him while nodding and staring at him like he hung the damn moon.

"w-want that, joel." you nod. "please, wanna feel you inside of me for days."

now it was joel's turn to feel flustered. your lips leave a trail of kisses on his jaw, making his cock twitch at the tenderness. for an older guy, joel still had stamina.

"don't worry, you've been a real good girl so i'll keep ya' nice and full of me." he groans, feeling you get closer to your high.

a loud pornographic moan of yours comes out when joel places his hand over your lower abdomen, feeling his imprint.

"j-joel, im gonna—"

a gush of your juices hit his pubic bone, coating the grey curly hairs there. joel doesn't take long to follow behind you, spilling ropes and ropes of his warm seed inside of you. even when you think he's done, he still manages to keep coming.

slightly overstimulated, you let your legs fall back on the sheets. joel finally pulls out, watching his cum spill out of you for a moment. two of his fingers slip inside of you, making sure it sticks.

"gonna spend all night shown you how much i care, sugar."

[thinkinonsense]

send me any joel or logan thoughts!! need to talk about them! plus any thoughts on the recent primal blurb or if it's meant to be series?<3

[thinkinonsense]

primal ✮⋆˙

joel miller x fem!reader warnings: secret relationship, smut, specifically joel from ep. 2 when he goes golfing, kinda role playing, crawling, eating it from the back (fem receiving), fingering, dog symbolism, corruption kink, possessive!joel, age gap (25 and 60's), slight manhandling, spanking, boot riding, pussy spanks, edging, hair tugging, joel talks to your pussy, jealous!joel, lots of cum, slight angst, slight breeding kink, notes: heavily inspired from the songs 'dog years' and 'safe word' by halsey and the film 'secretary'. the ending is kinda rushed.

what joel and you have together is controversial to say the least. if anyone knew the truth about what you two do late at night together, neither of you would be able to show your faces again in town.

that thought didn't make either of you want to stop it though. if anything, it made you want each other more.

it's a quarter to eight when you unlock the side door of joel's house with the key he gave you. the sun has already set in the town of jackson, letting the long day rest heavy on you. what you needed more than anything in this moment was joel.

he knows you better than anyone else ever has. taking the time to open you up and study you. finding a way to tame you.

anxiously you sat on the floor of his bedroom; waiting for joel to come home. the room is dark except for the one lamp in the corner of the room, barely creating any light.

soon enough you hear keys jingling around in the door handle downstairs and your stomach flips with excitement at every one of his loud footsteps heading your way. as he steps inside and sits on the bed, joel lets out a low whistle.

the signal.

"ah, there's my girl." he says, watching you crawl on your hands and knees over to him.

the thin straps of your dress fall lazily off of your shoulders as you make your way over to him. when your finally settled in between his legs, joel's hand lightly touches your hair and moves down to your jaw, gripping it and lifting it up.

"long day, sweetheart?" he asks, moving his thumb to tug softly at your bottom lip.

you nod into his palm.

"ain't gotta worry now. i'll take good care of ya'."

joel's thumb pushes past your lips, allowing you to suck on it freely. you obey, letting him stretch and train your mouth as he pleases. never complaining when you nibble on the digit, letting your teeth glide over it teasingly.

you always get so lost in these moments that the only thing that breaks you out of them is when joel begins to tap his foot next to you.

"get on, babydoll."

his words create a warm tingle in between your thighs. slowly you hop onto the tip of his working boots. joel's never said it aloud but he adores the way your body wraps around his leg, holding on as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded.

a tiny whimper leaves your lips when you first move, feeling the pool of slick beneath you. joel can feel the way your body trembles with each grind.

your clit catches on the lace of his boots, adding a nice bit of friction. joel takes in the scene in front of him. your left cheek pressed against the inside of his denim covered thigh, moaning sweetly for him. as much as joel enjoys watching you contort with pleasure, he also loved denying you of it.

right on the brink of ecstasy, he slides his foot out from under and you hear him mutter, "down girl."

as he's aged, joel has become less forgiving. almost too willing to put you in your place.

"p-please, please, joel." you plead, looking up at him with big round eyes.

without warning, his hand wraps around the silver cross necklace and tugs softly at it. joel's eyes were dark with power and lust.

"not yet." he grunts, toying with the necklace.

another whimper escapes you, louder than the last. joel tsks in response.

"now, what have i told ya'?" his voice was low raspy and full of weight.

you knew the phrase and what it meant. joel always made sure to remind you of it when you become impatient or too needy. a reminder that all good girls get rewarded in the end.

"all dogs go to heaven." you reply, struggling to look into his eyes.

"good girl." he purrs, releasing your pretty necklace.

joel takes a moment to drink in your current state. face flushed with embarrassment and arousal. he thought it was cute how you pretend to be ashamed of this side of yourself.

all it takes is three quick taps on his thick thighs for you to pounce on him.

"ya' make a real pretty lap dog, sweetheart." he mutters, nipping at your ear lobe and brushing a hand down your hair.

"missed you today." you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he didn't need you to tell him that because joel could feel now much you missed him. due to the lack of panties under your dress, his jeans were beginning to get soaked from your slick.

one thing about joel is he kisses like he wants to eat you alive. it's full of hunger. borderline cannibalistic.

a primal desire.

instead of responding with words, joel lets the two of you fall back onto the mattress. your hips start to grind down on his belt buckle while his hands squeeze your hips and ass.

joel's fingers part your lips, running up and down your slit, collecting your arousal. your back arches as he circles your hole. everything felt so right,

until your lower half is met with a sudden smack!

"uh, j-joel." you groan, coating his palm.

"stop tryin' get yourself off on my belt." he says sternly, laying down another sharp smack.

the hand on your ass moves up your back while his other hand slips two fingers past your tight velvety walls. without noticing, joel's hand inches towards your hair and yanks your head back.

"r-r-right there..." you moan, eyes screwed shut.

moving at an ungodly fast pace, joel manages to find that sweet spongey spot. the one that no one has ever taken the time to study before.

"saw you with daniel the other day by the barns." joel rambles, sounding slightly pissed. "ya'll looked awfully close."

it takes you a moment to fully understand what he meant. sure, you were hanging out with danny. he's been your friend for years now and there was nothing going on between you two.

either way, the thought of that guy being close to you set a fire in his mind. the way he touches your hair and pulls you in for a hug. things joel wishes he could do in public with you.

"danny's just a.... a f-friend!" you squeal, feeling close again.

joel chuckles from somewhere dark and deeply within his chest. the sound alone almost tips you over the edge. the worst part is joel knows it.

"a friend doesn't stare at your chest when they talk to ya'." he remarks, fighting back a groan when you sink your teeth into his collarbone.

"w-why do you even pretend to care?" you bite back with a glare.

joel almost paused but instead he went painfully slow. he knew you two weren't public for many reasons but none of them were because he didn't care about you.

in a split second, joel's other hand wraps tightly into your hair similar to before but this time his grip was rougher. the way you liked it.

"do you seriously think i don't care about you?" he asked, arching a brow at you.

every coherent thought of yours melted the second you felt a fire start in your tummy. something warm and new.

"joel..." you squirm, kicking your feet slightly with embarrassment of what might happen. "c-can't."

your eyes shut as a splash of slick follows your trembling orgasm. whimpers of joel's name and soft curses fall from your lips like scripture.

"that's my girl." he smirks. "betcha like leakin' all over your old man, huh?"

weakly, you nod. joel can tell that you're tired from your orgasm, legs still slightly shaking but that won't stop him from getting a taste of you.

"get on all fours." he instructs you with a sharp smack to your ass, without a doubt leaving a bruise.

you crawl over him, feeling his gaze on your cunt as he watches you clench around nothing. chest and stomach flat against the mattress, back arched and ass in the air. just waiting for him.

"could sit here and stare at her all day." he groans behind you. big hands roaming all over your thighs and ass.

without warning, joel sinks his teeth into the fat of your left cheek. your groans of pain and pleasure fill the room as your arousal drips onto his dark navy bedsheets.

"pleasepleaseplease, j-joel." you beg, wiggling your hips back a little. inching for his mouth. "i need—ah!"

suddenly, his warm tongue begins lapping up your slick. running the muscle through your folds before dipping inside of you. the taste reminded him of honey. sweet sweet honey.

"fuck, sweetheart." he moans into your pussy, barely lifting up to breathe. joel eats pussy like he's on death row. takes his time, covers every surface. he loves inhaling your addictive scent. "can't believe you're all mine."

mine. that's always what he says with his head between your thighs. claims you in his bedroom but forgets your name once he's outside.

"s–shut up." you hiss, finally sick of his shit.

joel pulls back quickly then spits directly onto your cunt. a loud gasp slips from your lips at the feeling.

"don't try and bite at me. i'll leave you untouched for the rest of the night while i get off here by myself." he threatens and he means it.

"s-sorry." you whimper, not wanting him to leave you.

joel goes back to feasting on you but your behavior doesn't go unnoticed by him. he knows it eats at you that he can't claim you publicly. both of you made that clear the first time he kissed you. your daddy's on the council and the town tolerated joel. no one would approve of this.

when he finally pulled off of you, leaving you wreaked and his sheets ruined. joel flips you over swiftly and gets on top of you, facing you again.

the first thing he noticed were the tears in your eyes as you tried not to look at him. joel hated seeing you like this.

"where'd those tears come from, sweet girl?" he coos, tilting your chin to get you to make eye contact with him.

you sniffle, feeling embarrassed for crying.

"it's nothin'." you reply, wrapping your legs around him. hoping that he will let this go and move on.

"tell me what's wrong."

you think about not answering or lying, but for some reason you just can't. joel listens to you take a deep breath and sigh.

"feels like one of these days, you're gonna shot me in the yard. ya' know, put me out of my misery sorta thing."

joel takes a moment to gather his thoughts. his face was unreadable to you. no real sign of emotion until you felt his left hand reach for your leg, lifting it over his shoulder slowly.

"joel, maybe we shouldn't– fuck!"

your words are cut short when his hips snap against yours. it was always a struggle to take him fully; and right now, you could feel him in your guts. the pace was rough, like joel had something to prove to you.

"no. i'm not putting ya' outta your misery or leaving ya' or any bullshit like that." he hisses, feeling your tight walls restrict his brutal pace.

you're at a lose for words. only able to moan for him. his hands play with your tits, rolling your buds between his fingers while nipping at your neck. his mouth settles right by your ear, groaning in it for a moment before speaking again.

"and i'm not fuckin' sharing you with daniel or anybody, sweetheart." his voice is dangerously low as he presses all of his weight down on you in a deliciously suffocating way. "so, cut this shit out and bark for me like the good girl you are."

once his thumb settled on your clit, rubbing in small focused circles, that's all it took for you to break.

"j-joel! shit, right t-there!" you squeal, clenching down on him.

"atta fuckin' girl." he grins, lifting up your other leg and sinking into you. "feelin' full yet? gonna let me mark ya' up? put my claim in you?"

your head was dizzy from his dirty mouth and dirtier actions. all you could do was nod and whimper against his lips.

"want me to knock ya' up?" he teases, hitting that spongy spot inside of you. the one that makes you see stars. "get ya' nice and round with my child? let the whole fuckin' town know that this old man put a baby in ya'? then would you believe that i care?"

joel couldn't be prouder then when he looks down at your fucked out face, just babbling incoherent worlds at him while nodding and staring at him like he hung the damn moon.

"w-want that, joel." you nod. "please, wanna feel you inside of me for days."

now it was joel's turn to feel flustered. your lips leave a trail of kisses on his jaw, making his cock twitch at the tenderness. for an older guy, joel still had stamina.

"don't worry, you've been a real good girl so i'll keep ya' nice and full of me." he groans, feeling you get closer to your high.

a loud pornographic moan of yours comes out when joel places his hand over your lower abdomen, feeling his imprint.

"j-joel, im gonna—"

a gush of your juices hit his pubic bone, coating the grey curly hairs there. joel doesn't take long to follow behind you, spilling ropes and ropes of his warm seed inside of you. even when you think he's done, he still manages to keep coming.

slightly overstimulated, you let your legs fall back on the sheets. joel finally pulls out, watching his cum spill out of you for a moment. two of his fingers slip inside of you, making sure it sticks.

"gonna spend all night shown you how much i care, sugar."

[thinkinonsense]

my goodness i just clicked on your account and tumblr showed me an error warning and said “this account has no content“ (or sth like it) and my heart dropped :(

everything’s fine now tho, i can see your stuff again but i was genuinely mourning your blog for a few milliseconds

omg!! i would've sobbed if i lost everything! but thank you sweetie! i'm so lucky to have people like you that appreciate my work <3

[thinkinonsense]

— one of joel's favorite things to do when you are acting up is to take you over his knee. he's got both of your hands held behind your back in a tight grip. "always actin' up, huh?" he would grunt, lifting up your skirt and pulling your soaked cotton panties down and around your ankle. "can't fuckin' take ya' anywhere." slowly, he runs the tip of his finger through your slick folds, teasing you until your whining and chasing his touch. "p-please, joel." you whimper. "ya' not s'pose to be enjoying' this shit." he chuckles darkly, teasing your clit in slow sloppy circles. joel was right. you weren't supposed to be enjoying your punishment. slick sticks to your thighs, dripping down onto joel's worn out old denim jeans. right as you push back on him again, you're met with the cold rough palm of his hand smacking your pussy. "a-ah, fuck!" you yelp, letting out a muffled moan. "ya' like when i spank that pretty little clit of yours?" he asked, watching as you nod your head. "need ya' to say it, sweetheart." another strike lands on your throbbing core. "y-yes!" you yelp. "i like it!" as a reward, joel finally slips a finger inside of your velvety soft walls. like a cat, you arch your back and purr in response. what started out slow and tender soon became fast and rough. two thick fingers hammering in on that spongey spot that makes your eyes roll back into your skull. " 's too f-fast!" you whine, shaking from how intense joel's movements were. if he didn't slow down soon, you didn't know how your body would respond; legs already unable to move on their own. "p-please! 'm so c-close." you beg. "c'mon, sweetheart." he coaxed in that thick heavy accent of his, feeling your walls tighten around his thick fingers. "i know you can do it, atta girl." it felt like an out of body experience that made your toes curl. joel scissors his fingers inside still until you've given him everything. legs still twitching as you come down.

a/n: my semester is over and i have a new old man to obsess over!! send me any joel ideas you have <3

[thinkinonsense]

if it's meant to be.

joel miller x fem!reader

masterlist — next chapter

summary: joel begins to settle in jackson when he meets a young widow on the second anniversary of her husbands death. he didn't plan to befriend her, let alone fall for her but when he sees a reflection of grief and love in her that he carries within himself, he can't help it.

warnings: slow burn, grief, mentions of death, cursing. some characters might feel slightly ooc, mentions of religion, half canon/ half not canon, nicknames, fleetwood mac mention, mentions of fertility and parenthood

chapter one: are you going to heaven?

every anniversary, you somehow find it within yourself to go to the graveyard. three rows back, five spots from the right; there he was. a small stone with your husbands name scratched in it.

the house feels haunted, you once told your friend, maria. for months, no one saw you leave your home. some of the people in the small town would come check on you, but that was two years ago. by now the wound should be healed, right?

“c’mon, sweet pea.” maria yelled, knocking on your door. “let me in! janice said she saw you leave this mornin’!”

"damn that old nosy lady." you mumble under your breath.

with a loud groan, you roll out of bed and make your way downstairs. only dressed in henry's clothes, a pair of boxers and a flannel shirt. even though the scent of him is gone, you can't find it in your heart to send them to donation.

“i'm alive, maria.” you answer, standing behind the door. “isn't that enough?”

the woman on the other side sighs. “you know we just don't want you to be alone today.”

reluctantly, you open the door and peak your head out.

“tommy took some flowers to henry's spot this morning. he said you always leave prettier ones than us.” maria smiles.

“there just the ones i grow in the garden every year.” you shrug.

maria’s heart ached for you. so young and already lost so much. eyes full of sorrow still mourning the man you had adored. henry and tommy worked together as fireflies for a while before tommy left them. the two were close friends before his passing.

“you should join us tonight at the town hall party.” she suggests. “i think dina would like to see you there.”

a small chuckle slips from your lips. “that little shit came in earlier with her key and made herself a sandwich.”

dina never caused you or henry any trouble. one day she just appeared and grew to you two like another limb. she was the only person who knew the pain you went through. some nights you would wake up sobbing from dreams of what almost was and what will never be. there were drunken nights where maria found you the next morning, slumped over in your bathroom with an empty glass in your hand. dina stayed with you for months, worried to leave you alone. the community of jackson did as much as they could to help but the ache never fully went away.

a beat passes and you sigh. “i guess, i’ll be there.”

happily, she walks off to get back to work. once the door closes, that sinking feeling returns.

joel didn’t know the first thing about the town of jackson, nor the people in it. women would admire him from afar but he was too worried about ellie to notice; especially on a day like today.

“she's fine, old man.” tommy chuckles, watching joel stare out the window at ellie and a group of teens around her age.

“just wanna make sure she ain't gettin’ in any trouble.” joel huffs, returning back to his breakfast.

tommy shakes his head at his worried brother. this side of joel reminded him of life before the outbreak.

“where's maria at?” joel asked, changing the subject.

“checkin’ in on an old friend of ours.” he replies almost in a somber way. “todays the anniversary of her husbands passing.”

“jesus.” joel exhales, not expecting that. “how did her husband pass? infected?”

tommy nods. “he went out for patrol and it went south. poor bride saw his head get blown off by some officers.”

'poor bride' was an understatement, joel thought. he still remembers what it was like to lose sarah. the wound gets easier to manage but it never fully heals.

" 's a real shame. henry was a good man." his younger brother sighs. "they'd been together since he showed up here in jackson seven years ago..."

whatever story tommy was about to tell about the dead man was interrupted when maria walked in. joel still couldn't believe how tommy looks at her she hung the moon and individually picked every fucking star in the night sky.

"morning, joel." maria says, taking a seat next to tommy.

"mornin'." he nods, politely.

as the couple catches up, something in the window captures joel's attention. two women on the sidewalk were talking together, one older and one younger. the older one seems to be doing most of the talking while the younger just nods along. she's dressed half hazardously in a pair on men's boxers as shorts and flannel about two sizes too big for her.

the woman was pretty, joel had to admit. soft features and eyes that shined.

"... she said she would show up tonight but who knows?" is all joel seems to have caught from the conversation between maria and tommy.

instead of trying to figure out who they were talking about, joel leans forward a little onto the table to get a better look at the women outside; but by then, it was too late. both of them had disappeared.

"joel? did you hear me?" tommy asked, snapping joel out of his thoughts.

"um, yeah, yeah... seven o'clock." joel guessed.

seven o'clock came around and you somehow made it down to town hall with a fresh baked pumpkin pie in your hands. the leaves in jackson were just beginning to change colors into different shades of brown and orange.

town hall was packed with just about everyone in jackson. kids played outside, chasing each other in the yard.

"oh! there she is!" you hear dina cheer when she sees you walk through the doors. her arms wrap around your waist, brushing against the white slip dress and henry's old leather jacket you had on. "pretty dress ya' got on."

"it better be." you chuckle. "costs me three jars of my homemade jam."

the two of you laugh until you spot maria and tommy at one of the tables. dina seemed too occupied with a brunette girl across the room anyways. politely, you excuse yourself and promise to catch up later.

"mind if i join ya'?" you ask, spooking maria who didn't expect to see your face here tonight.

"i'm glad you showed up tonight." she smiles, offering you the seat next to her.

"only came to remind tommy that he needs to come fix my heater again. winter will be here soon and i don't know why it keeps breaking."

there was a dry chuckle coming from behind you.

"it keeps breakin' cause tommy is the one 'fixing' it." a southern accent from behind announces. your gaze follows the sound until it leads you to the older man in front of you.

the mysterious man looked down at you almost like he had seen someone familiar. for an older man, he sure was handsome. looked rough around the edges, unlike the boyish charm you were usually drawn towards.

"and that pain in my ass would be my older brother, joel." tommy says, shaking his head.

"sweet pea, this is joel." maria introduces us. "joel, this is sweet pea."

there's a beat of silence between the two of you; almost like one is afraid to scare off the other.

finally, you speak up. "nice to meet you, joel."

"pleasure to meet you, sweet pea." he mutters, offering you his hand to shake.

joel regretted as soon as he felt your velvety touch. you don't fail to notice all the scars and callouses that covered his hand either. he must enjoy working with his hands, you thought to yourself.

luckily for the both of you, jane and chris call for everyone's attention up front. three small taps against their glasses and everyone turned.

"tonight, we want to come together to celebrate our community's fallen hero's..." chris announces.

for a moment, you're flashed back to two years ago. everyone heard the emergency call over the radios. infected.

"t-tommy, tell me it's not my henry."

the words came out in broken sobs near the gate. on the other side, you couldn't even begin to imagine what was happening. instead you are stuck here.

tommy avoids your watercolored eyes because he knows the truth. he leaves you there to go back out but when the gate opens again, you make a run for it. behind you, tommy's voice of warning shouted at you to stay away from henry but you didn't listen. the closer you got, the less he looked like your henry.

"henry!" you call out.

it happened so quick. one moment he charges at you and the next, sheriff carter's bullet shot straight through henry's temple until it came out the end. his blood splattered on your face and torso, marking you with the only thing left of him.

that night, dina and maria helped you clean henry's blood from your body and clothes. in the weeks that followed, tommy heard your screams from that day echo in his head every night while he slept. both of you were left replaying henry's final moments in your heads. tommy let you sob in his arms for hours, him and maria were both too afraid to leave you alone.

as the months passed by, the clouds around you only grew darker. you weren't sleeping or eating, the only people you would talk to were dina, maria, and your therapist, gail. it took a long time to open up to the idea of therapy. even now, you aren't entirely sure that it's done much help.

henry's name barely registered in your mind; nor did maria's voice calling your name.

"i need some air." you mumble, getting up and walking out the door.

on your way out, you snag a bottle of whiskey off one of the tables. a moment of awkwardness falls over everyone as the door slams shut behind you. joel watches as the young girl with ellie tries to go after you but maria stops her.

"she just needs a minute." his sister in-law tells the young girl.

once jane and chris continued, joel slipped out the door. he wasn't entirely sure why he felt the need to check on you. told himself that he would just make sure you were okay.

well, that was until you heard his footsteps.

"i'm fine, dina." you sniffle, placing the cap back on the bottle.

"sorry, i ain't dina." he mutters awkwardly, shifting on his feet.

the accent makes you turn around. tommy's brother stood a good distance away with his hands stuck in his pockets. there's an unreadable expression on his face.

"oh, s-sorry." you apologize, wiping a few fallen tears from your face. "i didn't know someone was out here. i was just about to go home."

"you don't um, you don't have to leave." he tells you, stopping any movement.

you offer him a small nod. "promise, i'm not usually a mess."

"didn't take you as one." joel replies, leaning against the railing.

"i wish they would all stop with these parties on the anniversary of his death. feels like their mocking me."

the two of you stare ahead at one of the old faded billboards that you've stared at countless times over the years. are you going to heaven?

"that's such a silly question. 'are you going to heaven?'" you giggle, a little tipsy from the whiskey.

"well, are ya'?" joel asked, almost jokingly.

"i gotta." you admit. "only chance i have at seeing henry again."

if anyone knew what you meant, it was joel.

"see that over there?" you ask him.

joel's eyes followed your index finger to what looked like might've once been a church.

"for years, i sat front row in those pews. even got married there." a small sigh escaped you as you recall the memories. "now i'm not so sure why i did any of it to begin with."

"born into it?" joel asked.

you nod. "daddy used to be a preacher but that was many moons ago, before the outbreak."

"you from jackson?"

"born in california but all i remember is jackson. came here for safety. for all i know, i could be the only girl alive from california."

a moment passes the two of you by. only the noise from inside the building can barely be heard.

"tommy's told me a lot about you, ya' know?" you tell him, breaking the silence.

joel almost winces at your statement, worried that tommy had nothing good to say about him.

"he's told me a bit about you too." he says, hoping to avoid any talk about himself.

you laugh dryly. "lemme guess.... did the words 'poor bride' come about?"

joel stays silent, immediately answering your question. he almost feels embarrassed that he doesn't answer, not wanting to hurt your feelings.

in a small voice, barely audible you mumble. "promise that i'm more than just a grieving widow."

for a moment, joel almost saw a mirrored reflection of his grief over his own daughter, sarah. despite all the years that have passed the hole in his heart was still there.

"you ever lost someone important to ya'?" you ask, looking up at him with puffy eyes and lips.

he nods and takes a deep breath. "years ago i lost my daughter."

"what was her name?"

"sarah."

"you're the poet of my heart." you hum an old familiar tune. one that joel hasn't heard in decades. a small smile crosses him.

"what was she like?" you asked.

"perfect." he replies without hesitation. "she was smart, smarter than anyone i ever met. too sweet for her own good."

"i bet she was."

"what about henry?"

you sigh. "henry had his flaws but even on his worst days, he always put me first. made me feel cared for and special. i don't think ill ever find a love like that again."

"don't count yourself out so soon." joel says earnestly. "you're young still."

"all my friends here are already married and have kids runnin' around while im here reliving memory's in my head that i'll never get back."

"being a parent isn't always all it's cracked up to be." he says, hoping to make you feel better.

"probably but at least i wouldn't be stuck daydreamin' about it."

the door swings open and maria walks out, joining the two of you.

"hey, you alright sweet pea?" she asked, rubbing your arm.

"yeah." you give her a smile. "joel here is keeping me company."

joel? her face read surprised. she gives him a look that you can't quite see but he shrugs sheepishly.

"he's been talkin' my ear off. told me some stories about growing up with tommy." you lie, hiding the depressing conversation the two of you shared in private together.

"told her tommy can't fix shit." he muttered, following along with your tale.

"maybe you can go fix sweet peas heater? let ellie breath for once." maria suggest.

"oh, he doesn't have to–"

joel cuts you off.

"i can look at it tomorrow, if ya' aren't busy."

"never am." you admit.

in the blink of an eye, a light snow began falling. the children outside cheer with excitement. you take it as a queue to return home.

"i'm gonna head home." you announce. "can you tell jane that i don't want that damn plaque?"

maria nods her head then pulls you in for a hug.

"have a good night." she says as you pull away.

"you too."

as you turn to joel, he's already looking at you. waiting for you.

"see you tomorrow, joel."

"see ya' tomorrow, sweet pea."

—tags: @lowrisemiller @imsherlocked-1998 @vvitchesh3x @chrrypascal @dugiioh @havensucks @olsenscardigan @sadgirlcait