Levi

he/him ; 20 ftm block don’t report

[honeysucklewatr]

wet kisses and slobbering boyfriends

short | fluff | smut | “wiping my drink after him”

synopsis: you try a trend on jason by wiping your bottle after he takes a sip. clearly he doesn’t appreciate it.

a/n: was supposed to be fluff but i’m freaked out sorry

it’s nearly 10pm when jason comes home from patrol. he had planned to get here earlier and switched his shift with dick all because you told him you finished work.

without even asking if you wanted him to do so, he just did it.

“baby?” he calls out as he shuts the front door.

you’re sitting on your bed, practically buzzing as you’d just been scrolling on tiktok and saw a trend you just had to try on him.

“i’m in here jay,” you reply from your bed, fingers idle on the screen as you quickly place it on the nightstand.

enough to capture the both of you.

heavy footsteps approach the room and he opens the door with sweat wicking his brow. he gives a low hum as he takes on the sight of engulfed in one of his t-shirt, a habit you’d taken when you missed him and wanted him home. curled up in your comforter with just your torso peaking out, jason plops right on top of you. no care in his sweat on your skin now of his weight resting on you entirely. you giggle as you run your fingers through his hair.

“don’t you think you should, i don’t know, shower before you come into bed?” no real annoyance behind your words.

he nuzzles even closer to you, shakes his head in the crook of your neck. almost like he’s motorboating your neck.

“nah, i’ll wash the sheets in the morning. they’ll need it after i’m done with you.”

the heat reaches your face and a fluttery feeling sits low in your stomach. he always knew how to throw the words back at you. but alas, the show must go on. you stroke his hair back once more, cupping his face with both hands to kiss his sweet face. jason melts into it immediately, but he shrugs like he were shy from this attention. when you pull away, a piece of him was disappointed.

“you hungry?” you ask him. “i was gonna make something to eat.”

he shakes his head, “don’t worry about it. i came home to take care of you. i’ll cook.”

you raise a brow as you reach for your water bottle, ready to play in his face. “take care of me? i’m a grown adult babe.”

he watches as you lift the bottle to your lips, his eyes trained hard on how they part and press against it. taking in how your throat swallows down the water and he gulps in anticipation as though he was drinking it too. his lips part as he leans in to kiss you again. though this time, you bring the bottle between you and put it to his lips.

“you look dehydrated,” you say like it’s the easiest thing in the world. tilting your head slightly and watching the gears turn in his head. “have you been using the bottle i bought you?”

he sighs and nods, “yes but i like using yours.”

sitting up enough to take the bottle and take a long sip. probably draining your ice cold water from how thirsty he was and didn’t even realize. he makes a sound of approval and hands it back to you when you do the unspeakable.

you take the bottle from him, lift your opposing hand and wipe it with your sleeve. jason is absolutely dumbstruck. his lips part in confusion as his brows furrow. he looks to you, then the bottle and then back to you again. he scoffs softly and then points at the bottle.

“the fuck was that?”

he’s blinking hard at you and waiting for a response. you just take a long sip and furrow your brows back.

“what do you mean jay? i’m drinking water?” feigning confusion.

“you just wiped me off of it i’m some freeloader, with germs and shit.”

you can’t control your laughter and shake your head at him. “i’m just wiping your spit off of it jason. it’s not a big deal.”

then he’s stammering, pointing between you and the bottle again. “but babe you just kissed me! how is that any different! wait, does my breath smell?” before he leans back and puts his hand in front of his mouth and breathes out to sniff his breath. “i didn’t smoke or anything and i brushed my teeth i swear.”

this only makes you laugh harder, pushing this chest and grasping tightly at he bottle in your hands. jason only seems to get even more confused. he sits up completely and watches you giggle to yourself, finding this entire thing amusing. jason however, does not. but he knows you, and he knows you have never cared about germs with him before. besides, you live in gotham, it’s hardly the cleanliest place to live.

with a loud scoff, he takes the water bottle from your hands and tongues at the mouth piece. he fully lets his tongue fall out of him mouth and licks it all around before pulling back and handing it to you. you grimace a little at the wet sheen on it.

“ew jay, what the hell.” holding the bottle like something toxic.

“take a sip.” he says with the most stern expression you’d ever seen on him.

oh, he was pissed.

you decide to play along longer and shake your head in defiance at him.

he blinks at you, “i’d let you spit in my mouth and you’re sitting here telling me you won’t drink from the same bottle as me?”

“no, not until i wash your slobber off of it.”

that’s when he huffs out a kid throwing a tantrum and grabs the bottle from your hand, mumbling in his breath. you watch him with genuine confusion while he is the one to take another sip before grabbing your chin and pulling you closer.

he squeezes your cheeks until your lips part and spits the water directly into your mouth. you make a sound of surprise the sudden intrusion makes your eyes widen but you were definitely not opposed. you swallow it down immediately. he keeps his hold on your cheeks as he squints and a small smile begins to take form on his face.

“you liking this,” he states rather than asks.

the contagious smile takes home on your face as you stare back at him and nod. “it’s a prank.”

“ha,” he says flatly, “now can you lay back down please?”

sighing as you lay down for him, he immediately follows after you. weight resting directly over you like a weighted blanket that wouldn’t budge if you tried. when you squirm a little, he wraps his arms over yours so you’re bracketed between him and the mattress. then he really does give you some sloppy, wet kisses that leave a trail in its wake.

he’s mumbling lowly as he starts to tug on your shirt, pulling the fabric up and huffing like he’s still annoyed. kisses getting a little rougher as he starts to bite the flesh beneath it and knead it with his teeth. you can’t help but tilt back for him.

“slobber, huh? i’ll show you slobber.” murmuring against yours skin enough to tickle you. he pulls his head up to look at you while you’re still giggling, “okay jokes over. was gonna do all the work but—”

jason lifts you from beneath him and places you firm onto his lap. hand tight in your hip as you straddle him and he settles his back on the headboard. he clears his throat and something behind his light eyes darken enough to tell you you were really in for it now. the thick bulge beneath you was unmistakable now. you open your mouth in a gasp and say his name.

“there’s no way that turned you on.” making the horrible mistake of letting a giggle out again.

he breathes out of his nose and pinches your side to make you jolt. groaning like he’s not the cause of you moving around and tightening his hold on you so you’d stop moving.

“i spat in your mouth. of course i’m hard.” he sighs as his fingers slide across the waistband of your underwear and tug them just to let them snap. you jolt again but he doesn’t stop you from moving or say anything about the desperate sound you make at the friction.

instead, jason smiles a little harder, “go ahead then.”

guiding your hips back and forth until your breath caught in your throat and you grips his shoulders for dear life. you breathe out his name again but it’s barely a whisper. he tsks and bucks up into you, dragging his hard length against your clothed core. you were dangerously close and he’s just grinning like he’s already won. your hips with a mind of his own as you chase your own release, dragging your hands down his chest and pushing him further into the mattress. you’re already a mess, panting heavily and saying his name.

one of his hands come up to the back of your head and pulls you down towards him, whispering lowly in your ear.

“there you go ma, take what’s yours.”

movements getting sloppy and uneven while he’s keeping you folded against him. one strong palm kept your faces close and the other moved you in accordance what he knew got you there. he knew you were a gone before you let go, gasping and stilling just for him to continue moving against you.

you’re catching your breath when he finally stops and kisses the side of your face sloppily again. his hands rubbed up and down your back like he’s soothing you. but this time, he’s the one laughing while he whispers in your ear like a coo.

“gave the camera a good show, didn’t we?”

[honeysucklewatr]

continued taglist (2): @soomxsss @akusuincoffee @bloodmoonbat @j3l1y-b34n @alexdelray1 @sparkyvibes

[peachypotbaby]

trouble - daily planet intern!reader x clark

words: 821

cw: smut!, age gap, older man x younger woman, power imbalance, work place romance, Daddy Dom/Little Girl, free use

A blush creeps up Clark’s cheeks as he feels his cock hardening in his trousers when you drop a fresh cup of coffee off on his desk with a shy smile just for him. He thanked you before taking a sip - of course, you made it exactly how he liked it.

Making coffee for everyone was one of the many ways you kept busy as an intern at the Daily Planet, and you had memorized everyone’s order - especially Clark’s.

Clark knew he shouldn’t be lusting after you. It was unethical. He was your superior, everyone in this building was your superior, and worse yet - you were 10 years his junior. You hadn’t even graduated college yet. Clark had discovered this while using his security clearance to peruse the Daily Planet’s employee database and search your name, finding your birth year was in the 2000s. Great, now he was stalking a college student. How low could he go?

But the way you smiled at him, and how he could feel your eyes linger on him when you thought he was focused on his work. Dear Lord, it made Clark stiff.

The way you would look up at him and slow blink your doe eyes at him, your lashes kissing your cheek as you paid special attention to him as he explained an assignment to you. You would walk back to your desk with wetness gushing between your legs at the sound of his voice and he would watch as you walked away, hoping his erection would behave as his eyes lingered on the curve of your ass through your skirt. This was trouble.

You really became trouble for Clark when you asked for his phone number. You know, to talk about the assignment you were helping him with while you were at home. Soon, he found himself texting you his address when you wanted to show him your progress over the weekend, and then he was answering your knock on his door.

Now, he stared down in disbelief as your pussy accepted his cock - watching as your cunt stretched to accommodate his girth. Holding your legs spread open as you lay on your back on his bed, his eyes rolled to the back of his head when you begged him to fuck you.

At first, Clark felt tinges of guilt and embarrassment whenever he thought about how young you were. But soon, he really started to lean into it - and the thought became intoxicating.

“You like taking my cock, huh, little girl?” he’d grunt, pushing your face into his mattress as he ravaged you from behind. “Yes, Daddy!” you’d squeal in response, desperate for him to keep his brutal pace.

The whole ‘Daddy” thing really started to do it for Clark. He hadn’t really understood it before the two of you met - but now he loved being your Daddy. He loved the responsibility of owning a pretty young thing like yourself - and he loved having access to your body whenever he desired, which was very often.

Clark had taken to calling you “kid” as an innocent pet name when the two of you were at work. “Baby” or “princess” or “slut” wasn’t going to work in front of your coworkers, but “kid” could discreetly fly under the radar.

“Thanks, kid,” he would smirk as you dropped his coffee off at his desk, and wink at you. You took a risk, “You’re welcome, Sir,” you replied with a shy smile. Blood rushed to his cock as he instantly imagined picking you up effortlessly and having his way with you on his desk, smacking your cheek as punishment for teasing him in public. It took nearly all of Clark’s will power not to smack your ass as you walked away from him to deliver Lois’s coffee to her desk next.

Of course, the new pet name bled into your sex life - and Clark realized he’d be getting hard at work for as long as you were at the Daily Planet.

“Ugh, just like that, kid,” he’d groan as you slid his cock as deep into your throat as you could, saliva dripping down to his balls. He came watching your pretty face contort while you gagged on him, emptying his balls into your tummy.

Clark knew he had to save you from Metropolis's high cost of living and have you officially move in with him when he realized you spent every night with him for a month straight, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Having a free use cunt at his beck and call at all hours of the day and night was too luxurious to let go of.

He loved rolling on top of your sleeping body and using you to relieve himself of his morning wood. Getting off inside of your young pussy and sending you off to your 8am college class was a lifestyle Clark was becoming addicted to.

[verytyphoonfun]

Clark Kent is, definitively, absolutely, the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. Keeps a mental list of your usual orders so he can pick you up food if you have a rough day. He remembers little things you say, from coworker drama to anecdotes from your childhood. He always complimets you on new makeup or a haircut or shoes, or if you stepped out of your comfort zone. He’s just a good boyfriend. The best. He prides himself on it.

So of course, as a good boyfriend, he wants to make sure you have the best day you can, every day. Sometimes he’ll get up early to get your clothes ready and breakfast made, pack your lunch. Sometimes he’ll even grab breakfast from your favorite place when he knows you need a pick me up. And they all work of course. Clark gets to see that beautiful smile and bright eyes as a reward.

But there’s one method that works the best.

Most mornings, he’ll wake up first with you in his arms, buried under the covers. He gets to watch the sunlight play across your angelic face, cheeks warm from sleep and soft lips in a little smile. He’s gotta be the best boyfriend he can be. Gotta make sure you have the best day.

So Clark reluctantly unwraps his arms and shuffles downwards under the covers. You’re both naked. Clark’s too enamored with skin to skin contact, and you’re just as needy. He nudges your legs apart just enough to accommodate his shoulders, pressing little kisses on the skin.

Clark gets to work quickly. His tongue licks a wide stripe up your cunt, flat and wet. Sleep had made you smell warm, a bit musky. Perfect. He lets out a groan as his tongue works its way into your hole. Your pussy clenches back like its saying hello, like saying it missed Clark. You let out a sleep-addled whimper as Clark’s tongue begins to move, thrusting in and out, flaring wider, licking at the gummy walls. His thumb rubs at your clit, circles in time with each thrust. He leaves your fluttering hole for a moment just to press a good morning kiss on your engorged clit, give it a few licks and sucks. The sucks have you gasping. You can feel the pull, the pleasure shaking your core.

“Clark-“ You writhe awake, but his free arm is draped like a restraint across your hips.

“No squirming…” Clark mumbles. “Gotta have my breakfast.”

You gush onto his tongue, squirts of arousal as he preps you. When he’s deemed you ready, Clark sits up enough to notch his head. Not all the way, just enough for you to feel the stretch.

“Hngh- Clark!” Your back arches off the bed, hands scrambling at his arms. You feel your pussy throb around the intrusion, a bit sore from the hurried prep. But each pulse tries to pull his cock in.

“You gonna have a good day?” Clark mumbles, pressing kisses across your face.

“Huh- uh huh-“ Your hips jut up, trying to notch him deeper.

“You’re gonna do so good on your presentation, okay?” Clark groans as his cock begins to work deeper into you, stretching you out as his head pops in. You can feel the heaviness of his cock filling you, each throbbing vein matching up deliciously with the walls of your pussy. “You did so good when we- oh, darling- practiced it, yeah?”

“But-“

Clark shakes his head firmly and bottoms out. He throws your legs around his waist. “No buts, darling. You are gonna have a great day, and I’m gonna make sure of it. Just lie there and take it.”

He begins to move. Clark knows exactly how you like it, of course. Deep, slow thrusts that have pleasure shooting up your spine and toes curling. Little plaps as precum and arousal mix in your sloppy hole until it dribbles down his heavy balls. His head nudging your cervix just enough so your breath leaves in little whines and gasps. Hands firm around your waist.

“Are you gonna have a good day?” Clark huffs again between thrusts. His hair is all messy, frizzy from sleep with curls flopping across his furrowed forehead. He has his eyes roaming over your bouncing body. “C’mon baby, tell me, you aren’t already cockdrunk?” His hand gently taps your cheek.

You blink past a hazy vision and nod. “Gonna have the best day…”

Clark grins, relieved. He puts your legs over his shoulders and leans forward to kiss you deeply, tongues intertwined in a messy dance as his hips speed up. Your legs twitch. “Good girl.”

His thrusts have the knot in your stomach tightening fast. The mating press is too much. He’s too big, cock too heavy, the pleasure having you short circuiting and gushing as you cum hard.

Later, you’ll have the best presentation of your career, with praise from your colleagues and your boss being proud. You do have the best day ever. And your puffy sore pussy leaking his cum is evidence of who helped you.

[littledes1re]

Who is craving some Joel Miller and Jack Abbott trouble????? 🤭🤭🤭

[tiisro2]

the guy i’ve had a crush on for two months is heterosexual :| i hope i die

[shoniebalognie]

The Bet

Jack Abbot x R4reader x Michael Robinavitch

Summary: Dennis and Trinity end up roping you into a silly little bet that had you ending up in a very compromising position with two of the Senior attendings as they overheard the details of the game.

CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Oral (m/f), fingering, Double penetration, Unprotected P I V, anal, a little degredation and condecention but like in a hot way hehe

Note: Welcome to my dirty little 6.5k word fic that isn't really proof read and was supposed to be a teensy little drabble!! Brought to you by a conversation with @valyntynhardy that had me thinking up a storrmmmm, thank you babes 🩷!! However, halfway through writing I noticed it started to sound a little like a fic I had read so with their permission I will tag the creator of that fic which is, @rr-after-dark and you can find the fic here Hope you all enjoy!!

“TRIN WAIT NO!”

The voice of Dennis Whitaker traveled through the hallways as you stood by the lockers with Mel and Samira. Followed quickly by the sound of what could only be described as a small scuffle and loud thud before Trinity arrived at your area.

“Did you guys-whoo I’m out of shape- did you know huckleberry here has like no body hair?” Trinity lets out small giggles as she begins spilling a very intimate secret about her roommate. 

“Uhm, well no I can’t say for a good reason why any of us would have known this.” You look around to everyone in your proximity, “But sharing is caring I guess?” 

“I’m sorry and how do you know this?” Mel squeaked out with reddened cheeks.

“I’m so glad you asked, he was taking the longest time in the shower as usual and so I went to scare him and the idiot grabs the shower curtain” trinity paused to snort out a laugh, “and-and it all comes down and next thing I know I am staring at a naked little mole rat” 

“It’s not funny! It’s probably like an underlying condition of something okay” With cheeks redder than Mel’s, Dennis was trying hard not to make it seem like he was confirming his predicament. He wasn’t denying it either however.

“You know what I’m sure loads of men don’t really have body hair,” Samira was doing her best to console the poor boy, “I bet even some people we work with are in the same boat!”

You fixed your face into a you’re joking expression directly aimed at her. 

“Okay then who? Because I couldn’t name one who I think is smoother than poor Dennis over here” Trinity motions to the entirety of the ED before getting a look in her eye. “Hold on, what if we I don't know take some bets about this.”

“No, Trinity, that's such an HR violation” Mel immediately voices her concerns 

“Only if you tell them, okay let’s narrow it down to the attendings keep it small” she sneaks a look at you specifically, “Abbot and Robby; bush, trimmed, or fully shaved? Bonus points for chest hair”

A beat of silence followed after her statement, as everyone took their time in processing what exactly they were getting themselves into. And if they were willing to participate.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate”

“They’re our bosses-”

“IT’S A CONDITION!” 

All three began arguing over the ethics of Trinity's proposed bet, you however lifted a finger to your chin before interrupting everyone.

“Abbot is for sure trimmed with a little chest hair, and Robby is definitely a full jungle head to toe no doubt about it”

A shrug was added towards the end as if this was light work, and that's because it was. You weren’t going to lie and say you hadn’t thought about this before, many, many times. You were an R4 and had been working at the PTMC since your MS4. There was no doubt that you held a candle to both of your much older attendings, hell you’ve been called out multiple times on the doe eyes you’ve made when you thought no one was looking. 

Dana had especially caught on, and never ceased to remind you that they were double your age and that a sweet girl like you didn’t need to be tied down by old men like them. If only she knew how much it turned you on to hear just how much older they were. And it was worse when the reminders came from Robby and Abbot themselves.

‘Good God I was in med school by the time you were born sweetheart’

‘I have tattoos that are older than you kid’

Both statements were seared into your brain the moment they said it. Lines that replayed one too many times with a hand furiously circling your clit while splayed out on your bed fantasizing about your bosses. So yeah your bet was one made with the confidence of four years of pining after these men.

“Nah Abbot's smooth and Robby is trimmed” Trinity wasted no time in following behind with hers.

“Fine, uhm both of them are trimmed short, but Robby has the chest hair” Samira's vote was cast in a mumble as she avoided eye contact.

“I’m going to say both are clean shaven” you had a feeling Dennis was just trying to make himself feel better.

“Nope, no thanks I’ll handle the money” Mel shook her head having absolutely no interest whatsoever in participating.

“Okay, problem though. How exactly are we going to find out?” Trinity once again laid her gaze on you, which to be fair so did everyone else. Point taken.

“Alright sure I volunteer as tribute, but if I do this it’s up to 20$ per correct guess. Bush and chest hair are separate so we’re talking 40 bucks per attending” 

You weren’t about to become a walking HR violation if there wasn’t a chance of getting 240$ richer. A girl has bills to pay.

As all agreed on the bet, handing your money over to Mel you realized you needed a game plan.

______________________________________

It all began the next day when Abbot had picked up a double. He and Robby were chatting and discussing patient care when you and Trinity saddled up to the station to chart on your own patients. Seeing no time like the present you decided to seize the moment and turned to Trinity.

“Do you have a good waxer?”

Trinity's eyes bugged out for just one moment before she recognized the plan.

“No, sorry babe I just take care of it myself at home” 

“I used to have a good one but she moved to LA, and I haven’t touched it since” Not a lie, “I don’t trust myself not to cut off a lip so I figured I’d just leave it until I find a new one.”

Out of the corner of your eye you caught the way both men had frozen in their spots, eyes wide and a blush creeping up Robby’s neck. 

“Say Dr. Robby, Dr. Abbot do you guys know a good place to get waxed?”

That sweet blush melted onto poor Robby’s cheeks at your inquiry. He then looked over to Jack as if making sure he wasn’t going crazy. 

“I, uh can’t say that I do kid” Hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“You really think we look like the kind of people who would know someone for that sweetheart?” Jack settled his gaze into nonchalance a lot easier than Robby did.

“Well I don’t know I didn’t want to assume, you know” you shrug before grabbing Trinity’s wrist and walking away, “okay well that eliminates waxing but doesn't eliminate if they shave or trim.”

The next opportunity you had was a week or so later when you saw Robby standing alone in the supply closet.

“Do they have any witch hazel or aloe in here?” An innocent and slightly stupid question that no one would blink twice at.

“I’m not entirely sure why, what’s up kid?” Robby turned to look at you as if you were presenting a case. 

“Well the patient in central 6 came in with what they thought was an STD, burning and itching and all that. Turns out it’s a simple rash from shaving” You search his face for any sense of acknowledgement, or the vibes of understanding. But instead you get nothing but the look of okay and?

“Well if we don’t have it, discharge them with instructions and some powder for the irritation” Robby tried his best not to blush once more at the full attention you were giving him, efforts that ended up failing at your next statement.

“Well what do you do Dr. Robby? You know if you shave too short and it gets really itchy and bothersome?”

“I don’t, uhm-“

Robby was saved by the bell as Dana came in and called a trauma. Something you huffed about knowing you weren’t going to get an answer. The breath you let out caught his attention unbeknownst to you, as a quizzical expression fell onto his face as he realized this was the second conversation like this he’s had with you in as many weeks.

______________________________________

Jack’s turn for questioning came the next day at shift change as you ran into him at the lockers. You were putting your things into the space and he was taking his out.  

“Oh hey Dr.Abbot, I have a quick question for you”

“Your questions are never quick nor are they usually good for my health” 

“No I promise this is totally five by five”

“I don’t think you used that-”

“Anyway, so what type of fabric is your underwear?”

A long sigh left his nostrils as he closed his eyes letting his head dip down. Turning his body to face you fully he leaned a shoulder against the lockers as he folded his arms across his chest. 

“I want to ask why you want to know that sweetheart, but I think I’m also scared of knowing the reason”

“Well, since you kind of asked I’ll tell you,” stepping a bit closer to him so you could demonstrate your question while you tell it, “I haven’t bought new ones in a while and I noticed that if I shaved, it would poke through the polyester fabric which was super uncomfortable. So I was just wondering if you had that problem?” 

If only you had a camera because the look on Jack Abbots face was priceless but only for a split second. His attempt at remaining stoic quickly dropped as his shoulder slid off the lockers for a moment, losing his cool before he straightened up schooling his expression and narrowing his eyes at you.

“Cotton.” 

The flatness of his tone sent shivers down your spine as he locked his gaze onto yours not letting you escape, It was your turn to slightly lose your cool. Jack figuring the best plan is to meet you at your own game, one that you were so clearly playing. 

Before this your flirtations were kept small and sweet. Ones that he and Robby were more than happy to play into, but they never entertained you much further knowing that you were much too young for them. They also refused to let themselves believe that you were genuinely into them. You who were sunshine personified with the confidence to boot during procedures. The one who they watched as every med student and consultant flirted with you in an attempt to get into your pants only to come out unsuccessful each and every time.

These thoughts and memories were swimming through his head as you left him with a small ‘oh ok, thanks’ and headed out onto the floor but not before he saw you quickly pull out your phone and began furiously typing. Grabbing his backpack he heads out as well, stopping when he sees Robby at the nurses station and figures he'd ask if he noticed anything odd about you lately.

“Hey brother I got a question for you, have you noticed anything odd with-”

“Oh thank god you too?”

Jack didn’t even finish his sentence before Robby was adding in his own thoughts. Both the men recounted their encounters with you noticing a similar topic to your questioning and interest with them recently. But it wasn’t truly making sense to why you were so hung up on this until they overheard a passing conversation that they definitely weren’t supposed to hear. 

“Damn it, she said still nothing definitive” came the voice of Trinity Santos the day shift R2 came close to where the two attendings were standing but not close enough that she and Dennis Whitaker saw them standing there.

“I still think betting on their body hair is weird”

“Okay well technically it's not their body hair it's just how they keep their bushes okay with a side bet of chest hair, totally appropriate,” She scoffed as she typed a quick reply on her phone, “plus are you not 80$ deep like the rest of us?”

“Well yeah but having her do it feels cruel when she’s told us about how much she likes Abbot and Robby,”

“Chill with the emotions huckleberry, and please they like her just as much. Which is why she has the best chance”

They walk away soon after leaving both attendings to stew over their words. Over two things specifically; one being the fact that a small group of their doctors have been betting over their pubic hair, but second and more importantly that you actually liked them. Their eyes met and it was almost as if they had the same thought process, which they did. Now they only had one problem though, they needed to figure out how to confront you about it. 

Because here you were flaunting around the ED flirting with them and asking questions that should’ve definitely sent you straight to HR. Except Trinity and Dennis were correct, it didn’t because it was you who asked. Taking a quick peek at the schedule they saw that the next shift was your last before you had four days off, they were also short a couple doctors and coincidently neither were supposed to be working. And since Jack and Robby were both such givers they signed themselves up to pick up the shift.

________________________________________

The day started out like any other. You showed up ready to work with an extra pep in your step as it was hot attending free, feeling like you could finally breathe. You loved flirting with them truly, but with this bet going on it was getting harder and harder to get through your shift. Not because you were getting sick of them, no never that. It’s the amount of forced proximity that was really messing with your head.

You were starting to feel as though the faint scent of their body wash and cologne was beginning to embed itself inside your sinuses. Or how the sound of their voices were etched so deep into your brain it replayed constantly as you wore out the batteries of your favorite vibrator almost nightly. But today was going to be different, today was a hot older man free day. At least it was supposed to be, but that quickly dissipated as a few voices you thought weren't going to be around came from behind you.

“Look at her walking in here with a little pep in her step, what do you think got into her?”

 “No idea, maybe it's just her youthful state. I mean you remember what it was like to be her age don't you?” 

Michael fucking Robinavitch and Jack asshole Abbot had swarmed you as soon as you walked towards the entrance. Only causing a slight stumble before catching your balance and regaining a shred of your already paper thin confidence. 

“Well I thought it was going to be a peaceful day, but I guess the powers that be said no.” you attempted a joking insult so that it seemed like nothing about this was getting to you.

But deep and gravelly laughs followed your statement, the kind that had your thighs tightening and heat creeping up your neck. A focus that you were ripped out of at the feeling of a hand on your lower back, which made you halt in your steps. Looking over you spotted Abbot positioning himself against your side before a long arm from the other man in your presence shot out and opened the door allowing you to walk in first. 

It was odd, not in an uncomfortable way but mostly because you hadn’t often taken them on at the same time so to speak. Usually choosing to focus on one or the other unless you had back up like Trinity. But here with both of them crowding your space made you feel out of control and dizzy. 

Squeaking out a thank you before rushing through the doors trying to get some type of distance, you were stopped short when it came to the security door where they wasted no time in crowding into your space again. Their scents filling your nose as the hairs at the back of your neck stood on edge.

You tried to start this shift with an attempt at the normal teasing and flirtations with the usual confidence you normally had, but as time went on you found yourself becoming increasingly overwhelmed with their constant presence. Mostly because there was something different about them today, they were less playful and dismissive with your advances. Instead it was more intentional, they doubled down on their own flirtations back and almost tag teaming you from each side. Rarely was there a time that one of them wasn’t around you, whenever you picked up a patient they were right there behind you asking for an immediate presentation, or about differentials and possible diagnoses. 

They were also more physical as well, a hand at the lower part of your back or on your shoulder when passing by, or even if they were standing near you talking to others. And they were always standing much too close to you when looking at the charts and labs, you couldn’t seem to scramble together more than two words every time they asked you a question because of how overbearing their presence was today. It got to the point where Samira had asked if you were okay since you had seemed so distracted, you did your best to reassure her you were okay but that didn’t seem to ease much of her worry. And unfortunately for you she decided to talk to the worst two people possible about your behavior.

“Im just concerned you know she seems distracted”

“No worries Mohan we’ll check up on her” Abbot tried his own reassurance hoping that he convinced her better than you did.

“I appreciate you bringing this to us. We will do our best to see what's going on” 

Robby figured that adding a second statement would distract her from lingering on one or the other for too long. And it seemed to work as she nodded her thanks before walking off. It wasn’t until the last three hours of the shift they decided to finally run their intervention. 

“Hey kid do me a favor and walk with me” Robby approaches you from behind as you try and think of every possible way to get out of it. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I can’t. Patient in south 5 needs me” you take one step away before a large hand wraps around your bicep as he begins talking above your head.

“Hey Mel do me a favor take her patients for a bit” She nods her agreement before walking off to finish whatever task she was in the middle of, “See no biggie, c’mon”

He guided you into the hallway quite a distance away from the ED, right up until you saw ON CALL ROOM 3 plastered beside a door. Knocking three times seemed to be the password as the door opened to show Jack Abbot, the only other man you absolutely didn’t trust yourself  to be around today. 

Before you could protest and make an argument for being too busy to talk once more, a small tap on your left ass cheek had you taking shocked stumbling steps into the room. The door was closed and a lock clicked as you stood as far back as you could from the two men. You weren’t scared of them per say, but you were scared that they were about to tell you they were reporting you for inappropriate questioning over the last few weeks.

“I uhm-” 

“Ah ah ah, sweetheart this isn’t your turn to talk” Jack spoke first, moving so that he was directly beside Robby where he stood but two feet in front of you, which also meant they were effectively blocking your way at a quick exit.

“Look kid you aren’t getting out of this, better to come clean now” Robby crossed his arms over his chest the movement somehow making him seem even broader.

“I don’t- I don’t know what you're talking about” You were on the verge of tears, mind running rampant with the thoughts of losing your residency and possibly your career.

“Aww look at the poor thing Mike, I think we’ve scared her”

“Nah Jack I think she's right where she wants to be,” 

“Dr. Abbot, Dr. Robby I’m sorr-”

“Shhh, no doctor. Just Michael and Jack right now”

Jack is the first to take yet another step closer to you with Robby following suit. But as you attempt to find any semblance of distance you feel your knees hit the edge of the chair that had been sitting in the corner of the room. The motion caused you to fall to the seat, eyes drifting to the front of their pants that lined up with your new view. Both seams were pulled tight in an intimidating tent from each man. 

“I don’t understand wh-whats going on?”

“Dont play coy now,” Jack grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “secrets and bets aren’t kept quiet for long in this hospital,”

He traced your bottom lip with the same thumb, pulling it down slightly. Robby groaned at the sight before he reached a hand similar to Jack, but instead of going for your face he gripped a handful of your ponytail and slightly yanked back so your throat stretched upwards. 

“Well, you wanted to see so badly, so look”  giving another tug to your hair.

With shaky hands you start with Robby's zipper pulling it down slowly before moving onto his boxers. His heavy length bobbed out, skin taught and flushed as his tip was already leaking, and he was long at least 8 inches. And right at the base was even better than you could’ve predicted, a full smattering of unruly dark curls that trailed down from the happy trail peaking out from his rising scrub top. But before you could get too carried away that warm hand on your chin gave it a small tap reminding you there were two, as if you could forget. 

You were a bit more impatient with Jack’s pants already feeling the pulse of your own arousal beginning at the most menial of touches from them. Pulling his pants and boxers down his cock was just as impressive in its own way. While it wasn’t as long as Robby's it was definitely girthier, almost scarily so. Skin just as flushed and leaking with a prominent vein along the underside and of course to none of your surprise he was neatly trimmed, nothing too short but just enough to shape it into manageable. 

Without allowing yourself to get too lost in thought reaching up with both hands you gripped each of their respective cocks and began stroking up and down their lengths spreading their arousal with your fingers. Sharp hisses left their lips at the contact.

“Aww come on now kid you didn’t harass us for weeks just to use your hands did you?” Robby chastises with a strained voice. 

“Yeah come on sweetheart put that dirty mouth to better use than you have been” This time its Jack that puts a hand in your hair pushing you towards where they wanted you most. At first you went to focus on just one at a time before you heard Jack’s tsk start to correct you.

“You’ve talked such a big game so you can take both”

“Wh-what Jack, I don't think I can.” Your eyes widened at the prospect of two of the biggest cocks you’d seen. 

“You can do it kid, open up and say ahh” Robby’s lips morphed into a smirk.

And you did opening as wide as you could, realistically you could only really fit the first inch of each of them at the same time while pumping the rest of their length with your hands. However, you settled into a rhythm of running your mouth up and down Robby’s then Jack’s cock and finally taking both as far as you could at one time. It only took a few minutes before your eyes were spilling with tears and spit dripped from your lips. 

“That’a girl, fuck feels so good! Doesn’t she feel good Mike?”

“God yes, so fucking warm. But I wanna taste her Jack.” Robby lets out a deep moan as you deliver a particularly harsh suck to his cockhead.

“Yes please, I want that” pulling back with a slight pop as their cocks fall from your mouth, the idea of their mouths on you sent goosebumps flowing down your spine. 

“Alrighty kid strip before getting on the bed, then put your hips at the edge” Robby ordered with a strong tone. 

Hurriedly removing your scrubs, you position yourself as directed. Before noticing how both men chose to keep their clothes on, leaving their pants just tucked below their hips. A realization that had you instinctively trying to cover yourself.

As your arms went to cover your breasts, larger ones gripped your wrists and moved to hold them above your head. Looking to your side you were met with Jack's hazel eyes as he held yours with a hard gaze.

“Don’t you dare cover yourself, I’ve waited years for this,” Jack's lips came crashing onto yours, messily filled with teeth and tongue before moving down the column of your throat, “I’ve had to guess what these perfect tits looked like with my hand wrapped around my cock way too often. And they’re even better than anything I could’ve imagined”

Your eyes were screwed shut as your teeth sunk into your lip trying hard to keep your noises down. But a startled gasp broke through as Robby’s hands caressed your thighs, where once again you tried to cover yourself by squeezing them shut. But he was quicker moving his shoulders between so there was no chance of hiding.

“Who’d have thought you’d be so shy kid? You’re all talk and no bite aren’t you?” Robby teased as he gently ran a finger through your own soft curls pressing farther into your slit, collecting the leaking arousal, “but you’ve never had a real man take care of you have you? Let alone two”

“N-no, never” your voice was a breathy whisper in your attempt to respond.

All chances of being silent went out the window as Jack wrapped his lips around a nipple while Robby buried his face deep into your cunt. 

“Oh fuck Michael!” That had Jack shoving two fingers in your mouth to keep the noise at bay.

“Fucking hell kid,” his deep growl vibrated against your sensitive flesh, “as much as I love hearing you call my name, gonna need you to be quiet for us, can you be a good girl and do that?” 

Lips still wrapped around Jack's fingers you managed a nod. With one mouth expertly buried at your sensitive core shoving his nose into you and inhaling deep and the other sucking on your breasts you could feel that dull pulse pull tighter on that string.

That feeling only built as Jack pulled away from your chest removing the fingers from your mouth and moving down to where Robby was.

Those spit slick fingers moved around the back of your thigh and pressed in right below Robby’s chin. The instant stretch had you biting on your knuckles and he scissors his fingers in a smooth rhythmic manner. 

“Bet Mike's mouth feels real good doesn’t it, sweetheart?” His question wasn’t one he needed answered with words as your face and moans said it all, but lord did you try. Nothing but babbles came out as he flipped between harsh sucks and using his tongue to inscribe his name over your clit. 

“Yeah he does,” Jack continued, “I can feel you squeezing my fingers real good. I’ll tell you what, be a good girl and let go for us just once before we fuck you” 

“Yes, ohmygod pl-please!” 

With toes curled and back arched the string snapped as Robby nipped at your clit and Jack hooked his fingers to press into that soft spot that had you gushing and your vision going white. Pleasure shot through your body as your orgasm contracted every lower muscle you had. Squeezing Jack fingers so hard he almost came at the thought of it being on his cock next.

Your mind was floating as you barely registered how Jack spread your arousal down to your puckered hole. Nor did you fully realize you were being manhandled until the world spun around you and you found yourself face to face with Jack's black t-shirt covered chest. 

“Okay sweetheart gonna take this nice and slow, big breath for me” The man beneath you whispered into your ear.

Confusion muddled your brain as it was still slow to recover from the mind numbing orgasm, but it all made sense as you felt his cock being pushed into your cunt. Slow and steady as he gave you little moments to adjust. All the while Robby had opened the lube that he came prepared with as he slathered his length in it with a few jerks watching as Jack's cock disappeared into your sweet cunt. The stretch was almost too much compared to his fingers earlier. 

As he finally bottomed out he held your hips down onto him only allowing small grinding movements of your pelvis against his. You were desperate for more and your poor mind was lost three ways to Sunday as his thick cock filled you up more than you had ever been. Little whines were released as you attempted to move but the grip Jack had was tight and immovable. However, both your movements and noises died down as Robby’s hand settled between your shoulder blades pushing you further into Jack as he also maneuvered your hips down and back so that he could reach his destination. You felt cold liquid spread between your cheeks before you heard his voice call out.

“Be real still f’me” that baritone of Robby’s voice was like an electric shock to your nerves. And the small praises that came from Jack in your ear were enough to make you cum again.

“Fuck, so fucking tight baby hold on” strain crept its way into Robby’s words as he slowly pushed in trying to be gentle as he passed through the tight rings of muscle. 

“Doing so good sweetheart, taking us both so well” small kisses and marks were littered between sentences Jack was whispering. “Oh Fuck Mike, can feel your cock pressing against her”

“Ugghh s’big,” wiggling your hips to stuff more of both inside, eyes all but rolling to the back of your head “feels s’good”

Another minute went by before Robby was able to get himself fully seated inside your ass, and Jack in the same position with your sensitive cunt. While they took their time stuffing you full beyond belief it only took seconds for them to start moving, and in perfect time as well. When Robby stayed put Jack pulled out, and when Jack pushed back in Robby pulled out. Both coming out just until the tip was left before thrusting back in with such force that had the air pushed from your lungs. 

If they were worried about you being loud before that was not the problem any more. The constant push and pull of the two men had your mouth hanging open in a silent O. The feel of their bruising grips on your waist and hips only added to the blinding arousal that filled your body.

“Such a good girl sweetheart, letting us fuck you dumb in the middle of your shift” Jacks degrading words only had you whimpering in agreement.

“No words for us kid, was this more than you thought you could handle?” Robby spreads your ass so that he can see himself slide in and out better, a view that had him groaning as he felt his own orgasm building. 

And almost as if their minds and bodies were melded into one, as Robby thought it Jack voiced it.

“Fuck don’t know how much longer I can last brother. Plus i think our break is coming to an end”

“I-I’m s-so” That competent mind that they loved so much had turned off, a sight they knew they shouldn’t love as much as they do but they couldn’t help it. 

The look of pure bliss on your face combined with tears flowing down your cheeks and their marks across your body was something they were going to make sure happened on a regular basis. This was their way into your life and they weren't about to let it happen just once. That tell tale fluttering of your cunt and tightening of your ass on the two men told them you were just as close as they were. 

And they were correct, the immense pressure of both of them rubbing against each other inside and the friction of movement on your clit had you barreling into your second orgasm. They quickened their pace chasing their own highs, rhythm being slightly lost as they stopped trying to time it. This had you losing yourself even more as you stopped being able to tell where one ended and the other began. And whatever lucidity you had faded as your orgasm all but paralyzed you.

“Fuckfuckfuckkk!” You gritted out through clenched teeth, body locking up as you gripped Jack's hair with one hand and the other gripping Robby's wrist on your hip. 

“C’mon sweetheart take it!” Jack grunted out himself as both he and Robby shoved themselves as deep as they could, reaching parts of your body you didn’t even know existed.

“Take it all kid just like that” Robby’s grip becoming impossibly harder 

Grunts and moans flew from the two men as they emptied themselves into your body, warmth bloomed from their cum filling up you to what felt like your chest. Shallow movement from both had you squeaking out with overstimulation at each thrust. You could feel them soften slightly before they pull out. Grabbing the wipes from the bedside table and lightly cleaning you up.

Your body was still limp as they slid your underwear and scrubs back on,and your body moved into a sitting position. Light taps to your cheek had your eyes drooping open just slightly. Feeling the water bottle set against your bottom lip your mouth opened instinctively as a hand gripped your chin in place. 

“Look at that, don’t even need to ask her before she does what we want now” Jack stroked your hair so that it looked more presentable.

“Gonna need you to walk out of her kid, think you can do that” Robby moved the bottle from your mouth and moved your chin with his hand to look him in his eyes.

You begin to nod before he cuts off your movements. 

“Nope gotta use your words like a big girl”

“Y-yes Michael” breaths coming out deep and heavy.

“Alrighty lets get you up,” Jack's hands lifted you from your position under your arms to stand on your own two feet. “Woah there bambi take a minute”

His words rushed out as your knees instantly buckled and both him and Robby moved to catch you. 

“I can do it,” taking a deep breath, you all but stumbled to the door. But before you could open it you heard Robby call out.

“Just so you know we’re taking you home with us tonight and we’re gonna talk this thing through, got it?” 

“This wasn’t just a one time thing sweetheart, this was four years in the making. We know you take the bus so you’ll hitch a ride with us.” Jack then nodded for you to leave first. 

"Oh one more thing," you called out before leaving, "the second part of the bet?"

A chuckle left both the men as they each lifted their shirts up to their necks confirming exactly what you knew. But the new peek at their bodies had your own gearing up for another round already, so with a small giggle and thanks you tucked your head down and exited the room.

With every wobbly step you could feel their cum slightly leak out and pool into your underwear, and you were extremely grateful the shift was almost over. Making your way to where most everyone was gathered at the nurses station, they all watched as you headed towards them with a noticeable limp in your gait and an absentminded smile across your face. 

“Time to pay up, I was correct” leaning your exhausted body on the counter top.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Trinity knew what it meant but part of her didn’t believe you while Samira, Mel, and Dennis made questioning glances between you two.

At least that was until they saw both of their attendings talking in hushed whispers coming from the exact hallway you had. Jack or Robby didn't bother to fix their hair as they had  done yours. And much to your embarrassment you could faintly see a you-sized handprint on Robby's forearm where his  sleeves were pushed up, and Jack's neck had a you-sized bite mark where you must’ve chomped down without thinking. Heat flushed through your body as they walked past where you and the group huddled, nodding to you in unison as you nearly sank to your knees once more. But a teeny bit of pride that filled your chest kept you upright with just enough left over confidence to turn back to the four that went from confused to shocked. 

And without another word Mel reached into her bag grabbing the envelope that held what was now your water and electricity bill payment. Shoving it into your pocket before moving away to very carefully sit on one of the stools to finish charting before you head out. 

“So do we get half?” Jacks question had you scoffing 

“Absolutely not this is my utilities bill” you shot him a look at the audacity of his words. But that look morphed into confusion when your phone chimed and a banking notification of 1,600$ being sent chimed on your phone. “Wait what the fuck?”

“You put in good work for that money, use it for something other than utilities,” Robby’s voice joined in, “Plus you’re not going to have to worry about bills anymore”

And before you could protest another notification of 1,600$ went through, this time with Jack's name. 

“Just a little something for rent” he casually stated, “meet us by the black Chevy after you clock out” 

Jack patted your shoulder before they both walked off, as if they just had been going over patient information with you and not sending you 3,200$ for ‘bills’. Which had you giggling because they both knew you lived in a shitty studio in the not great part of town, so they were very much aware of the fact they sent you at least triple your rent. Except instead of feeling embarrassment or shy, you felt cared for. And it had you excited for later tonight, wondering about all the plans they could have. 

Never did you think Dennis and his lack of body hair would’ve been the push the three of you needed to finally break the years of building tension. But here you were with that silly little thought in your head as you made your way towards the truck where both men were waiting for you. 

[loverofoldsadlosers]

CAN’T NOBODY LOVE YOU (LIKE I’M LOVIN’ YOU)

summary: You’ve been scared of intimacy since you can remember. So, what happens when Joel — your father’s best friend, and the only reliable parental figure you’ve had in your life — catches you in a rather compromising position on halloween? And, then, what happens when Joel finally decides you’re in for some tough loving? warnings: potentially dubcon. smut. daddy kink. read at your own risk!

(aaand we’re back! this is quite easily my favorite thing i’ve written so far. it’s very self indulgent. i hope you enjoy! reblogs are always appreciated:) — title song is “can’t nobody love you” by the zombies!!! but the song i also recommend is “hot burrito #1” by the flying burrito brothers, which for obvious reasons i could not use as the title lol. it’s perfect tho so have a listen!)

You don’t know how to feel now that Joel has actually caved. Now that he’s allowed himself to feed on your desires. Or, rather, what you thought you desired.

You felt grown when you were pursuing Joel. A dirty albeit grown, adult girl.

But now? You felt anything but that.

Joel.

Joel dad’s-best-friend-Joel. Uncle Joel. Your old man, Joel. Your dad’s buddy, Joel — beer buddy Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel.

Fuck. Joel? Really?

It started with a look. A volatile little smile on your birthday — your pink frilled cake, sticky vanilla frosting, and eighteen teensy candles glaring. Holding eye contact with him for far too long to be considered friendly; hoping he’d catch your gaze to see what was written all over your face. “I’m legal, Joel.” Joel was never stupid. In fact, he was always too observant for your liking. Catching you guilty-as-charged on your porch and knowing you just smoked your first joint. Or finding you drinking his beer at an ungodly hour and somehow placing it immediately to your impending graduation. Your least favorite: your red eyes, and Joel’s hug following suit — you and your dad were fighting, Joel figured.

He knew you were a good girl. Really, Joel knew the purity of your nature better than you’d observed yourself. Your peeking lace, flirty little smiles and that awful pout you developed after your first semester at college never fooled him. Nope, not one bit.

Joel knew you were a virgin. You were a nervous thing. Always have been, always will be. It’s in your nature, he’s decided. It’s your biological coding. Knew it since you were just a girl. You were the same with boys your age; hiding at the adult table instead of mingling and doing who-know’s-what with boys like the ‘Felder’s’ eldest son or worse, that punk Scott. Not that he thought of you in that way yet, but it was just something he observed. Your meekness. Your quiet demeanor. The way you were totally uninterested in boys in such a way that your own mother began to worry. “You know, at her age? I was onto my seventh boyfriend. Seventh! These kids are living in a different age, I suppose.”

So imagine Joel’s surprise pulling up to the bar that night to see sweet thing you: pressed against a brick wall, leg wrapped around some loser with your hand tangled in his hair?

Maybe it was his fault to blame. Snooping where he didn’t belong. He knew you would be here. In fact, he had, yes, admittedly followed you to the very bar you’re stood outside of.

But could you blame him?

You’re his responsibility. Your father’s only daughter, his best buddy’s only child, now under his care while you were home for the holidays. It doesn’t matter how old you are. That you’re “an adult”, as you keep reminding him, or that you “know what you want.” You aren’t old enough to know any better, he’s surmised, but Joel does — for you. Joel is sure you must have been as equally disturbed upon seeing him. If not more. He isn’t subtle about it. He doesn’t wait for you to finish whatever the hell you were trying to start. He simply slams his truck door shut — half surprised the red herring of his faulty engine hadn’t sent you running, knowing you could tell when Joel was over just from the sound of it creaking into your drive away. But, alas, you’re occupied. He marches as silent as the still air outside toward the outline of your silhouette, where you’re shielded by this…. stranger, this random boy, this—

Joel fishes in his pocket and shines his flashlight on the both of you.

You’re the first to pull away. You jolt as you snap your head up toward Joel with wide-eyes, your doe eyes illuminated in the white harsh exposition of his flashlight.

“Fuckin’ hell.” This was a scene that could kill a man. You — good grades you, star pupil you, sorority chair member and babysitter you — barely dressed in your white babydoll and fucking bunny ears. And how ironic is it that you, caught in a disgusting act, gawk at him with faux innocence; donned in lacey white to match the part. And he would’ve sought you fit for it too, if not for your swollen lips and the smudge of lipstick on your chin. Not to mention the random boy currently swearing at your side.

“Get your ass inside. And don’t make me repeat myself. You hear me?” you hesitate for a moment — still wide-eyed and still frozen under the horrible blaring glare of his hand held torch. You’ve never felt so dirty and vulnerable in your entire life. Joel growls a deep exhale and shines the light closer toward your face, blinding you and causing you to stumble back against the cold wall behind you. “You fuckin’ hear me? Scram, kid. Inside. Now.” And you know he isn’t playing any games when he begins to count.

“One….two…” you run into the bar with your hand hovering behind your ass as though you were some child nervously escaping a spanking. You would laugh at yourself if you weren’t so frozen in an all consumable humiliation. Joel has half the mind to slap the kid that was just eating your face off but he regresses. He knows it wasn’t the boys fault; if anything, it was more likely yours. While he held your good girl disposition near and dear to his heart, he had noticed your recent rebelling streak.

It was unnatural and awkward. Coming in the form of wearing dresses so short that you couldn’t even jump out his truck without flashing him; copious frills of red or pink or his personal hell, white, and he couldn’t stand it. He wondered if college had taken the dear girl he watched you grow into only to snatch you away and morph you into a lady. A femme fatale. Seductress. Promiscuous like your sorority sisters. But, no — you were still shy as ever at neighborhood barbecues and still ignoring Scott Felder with the same fervor you had when you were seventeen. And so to see you like this? He hadn’t a clue what to do with you.

It could’ve been ten or twenty or even thirty minutes, you weren’t sure, but finally, you hear that unmistakable noise of heavy toed boots clang against the bar floor, and there he is. Making an appearance after all. For a moment, you were scared he had stranded you here. Or, worse, called your father.

But instead, Joel locks his sight on you and slowly approaches. It isn’t hard. With your ridiculous costume ears still perched on your head. He pulls out the bar stool next to you and immediately waves down the bartender.

He keeps a tab open. You sit in silence as he nurses his second beer, listening to the screeching noise of his obnoxiously loud sighs as you’re sat shaking on the grimy bar stool beside him. Waiting for something. Anything. A shake of his head. A snarl. You’re even finding yourself pleading for his dreaded lectures. But, alas, he only sits there. Wordless and your stomach churns in anticipation for when his fuse finally implodes. It ignites slowly. A small, subtle look your way. Disappointment. Burning hot and sparking clear as day on his face. Then, and you couldn’t ever predict what he would say, but he meets your eye and mumbles: “And here I was, thinkin’ you were a virgin.” You would say Joel has been a pretty consistent figure in your life. He’s just been there. You can’t ever really remember when he came onto the scene or when you started to respect, and equally fear him, more than your own old man. And well, you would say you’ve come to know him pretty well. You like to think you have a firm understanding of his attitude. You know what makes him temperamental, what he enjoys or doesn’t, observed enough to guess what he would find humorous or instead flat out shun. You know he’s a secret prude. Brave in a way your father never was, chastising you for skirts he deemed too short, “two finger rule, sweetheart, c’mon. You know this.” Blushing when the ‘grownup’ table makes a dirty joke. Usually about his lady of the month. Then lecturing you when he finds you peeping, tutting: “this is a grownup conversation, young lady. Eyes and ears to yourself.” You remember the first time you saw Joel in a new light: condensation dripping down large fingers. That smirk highlighted by handsome lines of age and sun that weathered his skin. Tan flesh and jeans a bit too tight to really fit him properly. That scolding look of his, always pointed your way. But in all your years of knowing Joel, nothing could have ever prepared you for this. Joel Miller who damn nearly had a heart attack when you brought your senior year prom date to greet your father, and Joel — of course. You never knew him to have the gall. The nerve. The obscenity to call you out. “Thought you were a virgin.” You choke on your own spit. Half-laughing-and-half-gasping as you try to squawk a retort that just gets stuck in your throat. He takes a large gulp of his beer. You watch his adam’s apple bob around his sip, stupidly stuttering and now burning in a feverish blush. “What!-what, what…” he peers at you through his peripheral. “Wh-at? So, so— so virgins aren’t allowed to kiss now, is that what, huh?” You are just so defensive. For no good reason; he’s the one who caught you in your indecent act. Though, you don’t deny what he’s said either, and a tiny sick part of himself is slightly relieved — for your dignity, of course. “I ain’t ever know one to kiss like that, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” “O-kay, Joel. How about you try and stay out of my business, and you won’t have to know a damn thing. Does that work for you?” Ouch. Well, look at that. You’re embarrassed. Good, he’s thinking. You should be. You ought to be. But there’s something more, something slightly sinister bubbling below the surface. You’re humiliated, maybe. Pissed at him, even. He’s wondering why you haven’t yet asked him what he was doing at some college bar, but he suspects your unease has you tattered. “Quit bein’ ugly with me, kid. It’s my job to be lookin’ out for you, and I won’t — while you’re under my roof—”

“I’m sorry, under whose roof?—” “Don’t go talkin’ back to me. I won’t have you actin’ this way so long as you’re stayin’ here. You hear me?” You can’t decide whether to laugh or yell at him. “You’re aren’t my father, Joel. It’s not your job to do anything!” Your shame has brought your claws out; hissing and scratching and clawing deep into wounds you have no business deepening. There’s a falter in the beat of the room. A stutter. A sliver of light peeking onto skeletons long hidden inside your closet. You knew it was the wrong thing to say. It felt awkward, somewhat heavy like a lie on your tongue, and the suffocating air weighing heavy between the two of you concede’s that he knows this too. His face reads as surprisingly amused, and you suspect that’s the reason why. You’re just lashing out. Growing pains. All little girls go through this phase. He’s been waiting for this, really.

“Alright.” He groans as he stands up. Arm raising to scratch at his greying scruff and his flannel raises slightly — tan skin exposed, happy trail peeking from above his slacks. “I’m takin’ you home. Your dad ain’t back yet,” you don’t miss how he lingers on that word. Dad. Spitting it at you. “And frankly, I don’t want him seein’ you like…” his eyes rake down your frame and you feel just as exposed as you did under the glare of his flashlight, “this.”

He may as well have gone and called you a whore. You want to lash out and really give him something to be shocked at. Treat him like you do with dear old dad when he tests your patience and see how he likes it.

But really, you’re nervous at how Joel would retaliate. You and your father aren’t afraid to yell; you know that with every argument, while a silent lull may fall for however long it takes, your relationship would eventually return to its flawed resting point. But Joel? — he classes your low points differently. He yearns for the confrontation, because he enjoys the punishment. The lesson in it. You give him an inch? He’ll run it any which way from Tuesday just to turn it into a some sort of paternal marathon. You would call him a sadist if it didn’t mean you would have to acknowledge what that would make you. Really, sometimes, you wonder, if it isn’t the reason him and his own daughter are so distant. Or, rather the reason why she won’t speak to him. You never really saw Sarah growing up, with your age gap, but you could see how Joel’s life motivation could be his very own fatal flaw. He constantly needs, wants, longs to teach teach teach. He knows best. His way is the best way. “Don’t be mad at him,” your father would tell you when Joel first started taking it upon himself to solve your tantrums himself. “You know how it is for him. He’s just bein’ a dad, ‘s all. Saves my ass the trouble, that’s for sure.” You try to remind yourself of this when you and Joel make it back home. Any slight buzz you had lingering is strikingly gone — dissipated completely enough to leave you so sober you’re shaking. From the cold air, or from your repentance, you aren’t sure yet. Joel notices. “You’re shakin’,” he observes, but he doesn’t sound concerned. In fact, there’s that same amused twinge from before. The lesson. He wants you like this, all to teach you. “It’s cold.” You whine, and he sighs at your tone but with a small smirk in tow. Is it cold, or are you stood half-naked in a kitchen where you used to play with your barbies? “C’mon.” He nods his head toward the dimly lit staircase and you follow up behind him as he begins his slow ascend, leading you down the hallway to your bedroom. He turns on your bedside lamp and opens your drawers. Rummaging through them as you stand in the corner, still shaking, until he finds a clean pair of pajamas for you and lays them on your bed. Folding them, neatly. “Get changed.” He mumbles. “I need to — I need to shower, first.” You feel dirty. You’ve felt dirty since you let that boy kiss you outside that awful dive bar. You weren’t even sure why you did. It wasn’t you. He wasn’t even your type. You weren’t half as drunk as you usually get on nights out, but truthfully, it had little to do with the alcohol and more with the nagging voices of your friends and boys you wouldn’t let pursue you on repeat. Taunting you. And for what? Grimy. Bad. Even more so, the moment Joel saw you in that state. “Then shower.” You hoped that the cold water and the harsh rubbing of your skin would clean you of more than just your caked-on makeup. But it doesn’t. You feel just as awful as before, and Joel doesn’t offer you any consolation. He’s as quiet as you are; silent when you meekly pass where he’s perched on the edge of your bed. You fetch the pajamas he had laid for you. And when you remerge, creaking the door open an inch, he’s still there — waiting. Head tilting at the open door when you meet his gaze with a small smile. You continue doing whatever it is you were doing, seemingly spraying something into your hair. Citrus and brown sugar. The smell of you. Fresh, clean, warm, sweet. He should get going now. Really, he’s probably overstayed his welcome. Your father could be back. Sat downstairs, nursing a beer. Watching television. Thinking you’re dead asleep. If he was even wondering that at all. You watch as he lifts from your bed and gingerly wanders toward where you’re spraying all sorts of concoctions into your hair, his frame lurking behind you.

Taller. Brooding. Unsure.

Pausing in the doorway until he’s making eye contact with you in the mirror. He shakes his head, low and disappointed, and tuts at you. Slowly moving toward the other end of the sink before beckoning you over to where he’s stood with a call of his fingers. You follow — barefoot padding across the cold tiles to reach him.

He sighs. Hums, even. Tilting his head at you and scanning his eyes down your expanse like he’s examining you. Wanting to see how sorry you are.

“You don’t have to stay here, Joel. With me. It’s late.” The concept of someone staying up for you, up with you, is foreign. You feel awkward standing across from Joel, unsure how to handle the onslaught of attention; wearing pajama’s he picked out for you and you hate that you’re secretly comforted by even the small semblance of tenderness it holds. “You seein’ that boy?” he finally speaks, and you can’t help but shyly smile and shake your head. “No.” You’re grinning now. Almost giggling. Cheeky. He wants to give your cheek a curt smack and wipe that smile off your face. “No?” He’s smirking back at you. You slowly shake your head. He’s lulled you into thinking that you are equal. That since you are smiling, and he’s smiling, that now you two are playing. But you should know by now — Joel’s never been one to bark without a bite. You step ever so slightly closer to him. You could blame it on shaky legs or that burning taste of tequila still lingering in your mouth, but it’s just you. The bathroom is dimly lit, and Joel’s still smirking, and so he thinks maybe you must be feeling brave. Surely, if you’re being this brazen with him. “I didn’t even know his name.” You whisper. Smiling, still, albeit sheepishly. Beads of water dripping down the expanse of your cheekbones and wet hair clinging to your shoulders. Joel doesn’t say anything.

His expression doesn’t even flinch. He just hooks his ankle behind your calf, causing you to stumble closer to him. You catch yourself before you can fall, making quick balance by placing your palms on his chest. He hums — gently, and ever-so-slowly inches his startlingly large hand out toward you. You can feel him softly catch the droplets trailing their way along your jaw, grazing his knuckles down the edge of the bone.

To your confusion, the head-rush of the moment is dulled by the clanging of miscellaneous items on your counter, until you realize what he’s doing. He’s searching for something.

Digging through your sink caddy before pulling out your — toothbrush? You watch as he squeezes a dime of toothpaste onto its pink bristles. His knuckles are still resting fleetingly along your cheekbones. You would convince yourself that this was your deluded imagination, if not for the jarring sensation of his hand outstretching and covering your entire jawbone in one tight clamp.

Both from the sheer force of his grip, and in a gasp of surprise, your mouth opens and you’re about to retort — Is he really going to?— “Open wide.”

Your effort is useless.

He gives you no warning before almost gagging you on your own toothbrush. Shoving it uncaringly into your mouth, letting the plastic stick clang loudly against your teeth and poke at the plush flesh inside. This is . . . humiliating? You silently pray it’s not spit you can feel slightly dribbling onto the handle of the brush, surely going down his hand, and you whine in embarrassment — it’s muffled in the clumsy attempt of brushing your teeth — and you try to shove his hand away, but he only grips your wrist with the other; absentmindedly bracketing your hips and pressing you against the sharp porcelain digging into your behind.

He laughs at you. “Gotta get you clean,” he tuts, and you burn both with mortification and in the revelation that he must surely now see you as you do yourself. Dirty. Ruined. Once the child, now the inevitable woman. “Joel,” you gurgle, slightly laughing in awkwardness. The mint is causing your eyes to water as you try to shove him harder, with no avail. “Stop.” He catches your wrist once again and presses it hard against your chest. “Be good.” Now this — this is just —

Humiliation. Joel’s never touched you like this. He’s never gripped at you, or ever, ever been rough with you.

Really, now that you really come to think of it, you’ve never much felt the graze of Joel’s flesh against yours.

Sure, you’ve felt his frame against yours in tear-soaked hugs. Or felt the calloused graze of his knuckles when passing you the clandestine beer, or maybe felt the accidental knock of his knee brushing yours in sweaty lawn chairs at neighborhood barbecues. But Joel has always treated you so . . . delicately. Only touching you unless absolutely necessary. Avoiding it, even: his hand hovering above your waist in photographs, rejecting your requests of retying your bikini top, reacting as though you’ve burned him in accidental moments of your body swiping past his. Okay, now? Well this just feels oddly intimate. You must be making it weird. You’ve stopped thrashing and now you’re only sat complacent, blushing. At Joel. You hate the feelings you can feel begin to stir deep in your gut. It’s hot fierce and you’re sure he can see it, or at the very least feel it in your quick pulse. But this is already weird. Joel is brushing your teeth. For you. While laughing like it’s the highest form of entertainment he’s had in all his fifty-so years of living. And — are you shaking? Seriously? Are you that unsure on how to act in the presence of such a man acting as casual as he does during errands? It’s only Joel. But he’s a man, nonetheless. You could count on your one hand the amount of times you’ve ever touched one, and so, yes, you’re shaking. Maybe it’s part adrenaline, too. Your nervous system grappling to accommodate that this is Joel. Touching you so openly, even if it is to manhandle you. His other hand moves from its tight hold on your jaw to create a makeshift ponytail of your hair, pushing your head gently toward the sink

“Spit, honey.” You can barely speak with both the toothpaste swishing in your mouth and between your stifled giggles, toothpaste foam clumisy escaping and now you’re laughing, fully. “There she is. You feelin’ better now?”

“No! You just — you?” You’re hysterical. He snorts at you, secretly relieved to finally see a smile appear on your face after all of your pouting. You’re not off the hook just yet — his seething disappointment still brewing — but the melody of your laughter quells the bitterness even for a little moment. He sighs when you giggle and hide your head in the crook of his neck because this is the little girl that he fondly remembers. Maybe you just needed a reminder, too.

On his flannel collar, you can smell the lingering remainder of the cigarettes he must have snuck out on his lunch break whispering to you. It mixes with the smell of his musk. His natural scent, and a spray of that cologne you could sniff out with a blindfold. Sweet, yet notably masculine — honey melded with boozy tobacco — like that whiskey he stashes below his kitchen sink. Nostalgic in a way that reminds you of summer; Joel’s cigarettes burning the dewy grass of your lawn, sweltering nights spent in his garage, your favorite cherry red ice pops he kept in his freezer just for you, skin sticky with chlorine, cicadas and early dawn, the taste of beers you shouldn’t be having and looks you shouldn’t be giving. You’re sat on the counter, Joel stood between your legs, and as your head tips up, you can recognize the exact second Joel resigns. The moment he remembers who you are to him, and who he is to you.

“Alright. I better, um. I best be to gettin’ sweetheart. I’ll be speakin’ to you in the mornin’, you hear me?” He goes to step backward, away from where you’re sat, away from your pajama clad body. Skimpy and short, too short and he needs to step away from the girl that deep down doesn’t belong to him. Not with his best buddy’s blood running through you. Away from the little girl he’s known for far too long. Your small ankle hooks around his calf.

“Why do we have to wait for the morning?”

He’s stunned. You’ve stunned him. Peering up at him with doe eyes and he’s — he’s shocked.

And intrigued?

“It’s way past your bedtime young lady. And frankly if I stick around, well. . .” he scratches the greying scruff speckling his jaw. He’s as close as he was before. Close enough to where he has to dip his head down to look at you. Close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath.

“Well?”

He sighs, softly, and inches slightly closer. His face is beside your ear now. He drops his voice into a gruff whisper. “I’d say some things I shouldn’t.”

Your eyebrow quirks and the corner of his mouth lifts into a shy smirk. “Not like that, kiddo. It’d be mean. I’d say rude things to you, and I don’t wan’ to. Wanna save it for the morning. Give us a second to cool off, y’know? Take a breather. Go from there.” He pats your shoulder. Joel Miller, always so level-headed.

It’s time to go. Really, it is.

You gnaw your bottom lip between your teeth as Joel begins to tread through your quaint bathroom and toward the door of your bedroom. You should let him go. You shouldn’t say anything else. You’ve already forever changed the trajectory of your relationship with Joel — but in the same sentiment, what is there to lose? “I’m a big girl, Joel. I can handle hard conversations.” Even through the dim lighting of your bedroom, lit only by the single glass lamp at your bedside, you can faintly see when Joel’s expression changes.

“Can you? Nearly done scared you off at the bar. Didn’t I?” You watch as it sours, his eyebrows furrowing. You’re beginning to test the little luck you have left for the night, but you’re either willingly ignorant, or simply don’t notice. You push either way.

Stupid, little naive girl. “Because you treat me like a child! You — you never treat me like I’m a grown up. You treat me like I’m still little. Like I’m.” You suck in a sharp inhale. “Like I’m Sa—“

“— Don’t you finish that sentence. Fuckin’ hell. You pitchin’ a hissy fit? Is that what this is? I interrupt your little play date,”

“Oh my—” You really should’ve stopped talking a long time ago. But you can’t seem to find a way to switch this side of yourself off. You’re frustrated — you’re embarrassed, still so abashed and there’s nothing more you want at this moment than comfort; but you don’t deserve that. Definitely not now. You may as well be itching for punishment with the way you’re rambling your mouth at Joel. “Shut it. You shut your mouth.” Joel raises his voice and you flinch. Both in the fear of your father potentially hearing a glimpse into your altercation, but also for you. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, and theres nothing you can do but watch as Joel drags his hands down his face. Sighing and shaking his head before storming up to you. Raising his pointer finger right in your face, his own scrunched and angry. Albeit, he inhales a single shaky breath.

“You’re right. You ain’t Sarah. I failed her. I was too soft with her. Too weak. Too lenient with shit I shouldn’t have been. Too — too goddamn proud. And so help me God, I will not make that same mistake with you. You hear me girl? When I speak, you listen. Goddamnit.” You’re frozen. Stuck in place and somehow the distance between you two has become even shorter. He’s almost breathing down your neck. Seething and huffing with no regard for your space. You don’t know what to say. Choking on a sharp breath that you didn’t even realize you had been holding. “This is — Joel, I’m not… you’re not my… I don’t need you to—”

“What? You wanna be my friend? Is that what you’re askin’ for? For us to be fuckin’ friendly?”

His nose brushes against your own and it’s so beside him, entirely uncharacteristic for him to be this close to you; undeniably too enraged to recognize the lack of distance between you. “Hm?” “No, you’re not listening to me—“

“You keep runnin’ that mouth at me and I’ll show you just where it gets you, little girl.” You’re appealing to the ugliest parts of himself now. Playing right into his game of cat and mouse. The perfect pawn on his chess board. You know all the right buttons to press and you aren’t even sure if you do it unwillingly.

“I’m sorry Joel.” You whisper so quiet and so sweetly that it nearly stops him in his tracks. Almost breaks him from the frustration he feels toward you. Almost. “I know you are babygirl. I know you are…” And for a fleeting moment, you have your Joel back in the room. The Joel you’ve always known. The only person you know that looks at you with starry eyes and protects you like you’re as delicate as fine china. He carefully cups your cheek before sighing, looking down toward the ground in an attempt to recalibrate. To cool off. To get a grip of himself. To act like the adult he is. The role model you deserve. But. . . Have your shorts always been that short? Really — he doesn’t mean to look, his eyes just snagged on a fleeting glimpse of the smooth expanse of your legs, and now he’s perplexed. Why would you even own shorts that tiny? What purpose do they serve? Other than to appease. To appeal. To impress.

‘Two finger rule, sweetheart.’ Joel can feel himself begin to flush; his temper is brewing again. Hadn’t he taught you better than this?

You gulp. “Joel?”

“I know you’re sorry. But sorry ain’t ‘gonna cut it this time, kiddo.”

“No, please don’t—” please, anything but tell your father.

“I think we oughta try some tough love.” “No!—” you scramble toward Joel; reaching out toward him in an attempt to get him to stop. To not go downstairs. To not tattle to that man about your bad behavior. To not bring him into this. But in that same second, Joel hunches over you, grabbing your wrist and pinning it behind the small of your back.

He pulls you against his sturdy chest. Shushing you. Telling you to “be quiet, goddamnit,”tightening his grip on your wrist when you begin to thrash — kicking at him, trying to free yourself from where you’re held against him, “stop being so squirrelly, kid. Stop. The fuck’s gotten into ‘ya?” You don’t stop, too confused and frightened to do anything but flail like a fish out of water; gasping like you were gurgling for air when you feel the sudden force of your body colliding with the solid plush of your bed from below you. You register the pressure first. The immense weight of Joel above you, all broad muscle mass, pinning you with the full heft of his bulk into the mattress. “Stop,” he growls, and you can feel the warmth and softness of his lips graze against the shell of your ear.

The noise and clatter inside your head goes silent — everything coming to a static standstill as you finally take a single slow, albeit wheezed, breath. You quell beneath him. “Good.” He whispers. “Good girl.”

Joel has you bent over the edge of your bed. Joel.

Joel.

“You ain’t gonna like this one bit. I’m sorry, honey. But you gotta learn somehow.” You can’t register anything he’s saying because you can feel him. Against you. Pressed against your behind.

Oh. Oh.

You think of what to say but fall short. Instead, you lay still. Waiting. Your heart pattering so fast you wonder if he can hear it.

And then, you yelp; the resounding smack! of his palm shocks through your body. The small of your back where your flesh melts into its heart shape burns. Sending you up the mattress to get away from it.

He’s just hit you. No — he’s just spanked you.

“What the—”

Before you can even begin to comprehend, let alone retort, his palm hits you even harder. So hard that the sound rattles you and rings in your ears.

His hand swats you again, and again, and again. You can barely distinguish the noise of him grunting with each move, watching as his face scowls when you peek your head back.

And then, his smacks hit lower,

lower,

and once more, lower.

Right over your most intimate part. All yours.

And now, partly his — with his palm cupping you there for a split second before pulling away instantaneously when your head whips around to meet his gaze.

His brows are still settled low on his face, with his eyes squinted at you and mouth twisted into a disgruntled scowl.

But beneath it, you can see his guilt rising. His unwitting abdication of you revealing to him in an instant. You, slightly bent over your frilly bed. You, gawking at him so bewildered he’s surprised you haven’t slapped him back. You. You. By him. Joel. Joel.

Joel dad’s-best-friend-Joel. Uncle Joel. Your old man. Your dad’s buddy, Joel. Beer buddy, Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel.

Joel who loves you as his own.

Fuck. Joel. Really?

You feel fractured in two. Dichotomized between the part of you that feels sickened, almost. Frightened. Pure and untouched being corrupted in a split second.

And, equally, by the part of you that doesn’t feel that way at all. The fraction of you that feels wanted. Finally desired. Worthy. Worthy of Joel, worthy of his touch, worthy of his attention. His failed attempt of feigning composure a signal of how much you’ve meant to him this whole time. Of how much you can be wanted. To be loved so much by him that he cares for you in every sense of the word. The tiny, insidious part of you that felt jealousy toward those that Joel unconditionally loved. Wishing you were in their place.

Sarah. Admittedly, you hadn’t seen this coming. But it wasn’t as though you hadn’t wished for it. Like that one time in Joel’s garage. When your father was passed out inside, left asleep on the couch with his beer left warming in his hold, you hiked your skirt a few inches higher; sat alone with Joel in his old camping chairs and demurely playing a game of one sided footsie with him. Joel was talking at you about something monotonous. Some old lecture. And maybe it was nothing. Really, it might’ve been mostly your imagination. But you swore there was something different about the way he peered up at you — not just anger for your silly game of footsie despite urging you to pay attention, but real hunger — (you pulled your foot away in an instant.)

Joel staggers back, your stunned expression mirroring his own. You’re still frozen in position as you watch him pace in the small space of your bedroom. Nearly knocking over your dainty jewelry and makeup stashed on your porcelain vanity, swearing loudly when he inevitably does, his hip bumping your pink perfume bottle in his moment of frantic realization. He hinges down, gently placing it back in its position before settling his attention back onto you.

“I—” your eyes lock momentarily before he twists away. “Sit up for me” he murmurs with his back facing you. You’ve never seen Joel so frazzled. So out of his own willpower. You hesitate for a beat longer before gradually turning your body toward where he’s stood with his hand in his heads, perching yourself on the edge of your bed. Your hands are politely placed on your lap despite your ass still burning red beneath you.

Joel is victimized by his own puzzle of sorts too. Pulled between his rational self that loves you innocently like his own. Wanting nothing more than to watch you succeed — build your career, have a family of your own, grandchildren, visiting your old man Joel. The white picket fence you deserve. The happy ending he’d give anything to see you have. To be the one stable role model in your life, waiting at your every beck and call. The only thing a man like him is good for. The only thing he lives for. But beneath it all lurks that ugly, ruined, most selfish inner part of himself fueled entirely by his bloodlust. His nauseating thirst to teach you and have you and protect you like his own kin. Greedily ravenous to claim you in every way he can without his blood running through your veins, without his last name belonging alongside your first. To teach you every lesson he can mangle his way into. To put his love into you. Make it stick.

He cautiously walks toward you. The room is so silent that you can hear his knees creak as he hinges to sit docile beside you. You aren’t sure which version of him you’re with, and you aren’t sure which one you want. “That wasn’t right. I’m sorry sweetheart. Shit. I’m sorry. That was too much, kiddo. I know.” He finally braves a glance at you and swears under a loud sigh. “Hey. Hey. Look at me, kid.” He holds your face in both of his warm hands. “I’m sorry, honey. That ain’t right of me to do to you. I know, baby.”

But if it wasn’t right, then why are your insides all tangled up? You hate to admit it but you’re ignited. And judging by the stiff sensation pressed against your knee, you bravely assume Joel feels it too. You gawk at him. A little coquettish without really thinking about it. Slightly blinded by your impulse and batting your eyelashes as kittenish as you can without being obvious.

But Joel knows. He always does. He doesn’t have a sixth sense, he just has age. Knowledge. Power over you in the form of sun-weathered wrinkles and a body shaped by years of hard work and callouses to prove his determination cause of providing for his family. The same hands that are delicately bracing your face having brought women pleasure for decades longer than you have existed and fixed your nightstand when the hinges broke. ‘I’ve got decades on you, little girl.’ “Oh.” He faux’s a puzzled look, but you know that he’s well aware of your situation. “Oh? Is that how it is?”

You break your silence. Gulping embarrassingly louder than you intended to. “Joel—”

“You liked that, didn’t you?” You go to retort, shaking your head and aimlessly stuttering. Joel stares at you wordlessly, his mouth slightly agape and scanning your face, his two hands still cupping your cheeks gently. Slightly disgusted at your gall. At how you mirror his own. ”That was supposed to be a punishment. You weren’t supposed to…like it.”

“I’m . . . sorry?” You’re scared your heart might lurch out of your chest when you recognize the expression on his face. Hooded eyes and lips pressed in a tight line. The one you’ve only seen once before, in his garage. Starving. “You’re just a kid. Just a goddamn baby. You shouldn’t…we shouldn’t … this ain’t right.” And yet, your faces are a hairbreadth apart.

His eyes darken; he’s onto you. His mouth melts against yours hard, so hard that you would think your lips may bruise tomorrow if you even had time to think. You can feel him everywhere. Pawing at every inch of your bare skin that he can access and gripping, tightly. Soothing the red flush of your behind with a fierce grope. You gasp, but Joel steals it as an opportunity to satiate his appetite; deepening the feverish kiss by stroking his tongue against yours. You can’t do anything but mesh your lips just as hard against his, clumsily trying to match his fervor until you feel his hand slither to the waistband of your shorts. Teetering at the lace edge.

“Joel… I don’t know if… I’ve never….” he pulls away to catch his breath, the both of you panting into each other’s mouths, his forehead pressed against yours as you feel his capable fingers toying with the delicate lace of your waistband. He steals another kiss over your panting mouth. “I know, kiddo. Don’t be scared, honey. I’ll make it so good. I promise.” His knuckles accidentally graze right over where you’re most sensitive and you gasp, bucking your hips up absentmindedly in response to his touch. He smirks. “So responsive. Nobody ever touch you here? Really?” You know he knows the answer, but he just wants you humiliated — willing, shaking shake your head ‘no’ just so he can groan; biting the delicate junction of your neck and nipping at the soft skin there. Nudging his fingers a bit harder into that sensitive, untouched spot and you writhe embarrassingly beneath him.

“Wait…” Without a word, he slowly tugs down the thin cotton of your shorts. You hear him suck in a sharp inhale at the sight of you almost bare, all for him. Joel silently wishes he felt even a sliver more of guilt at the sight of your white ruffled panties. His best buddies daughter. Complete with a tiny bow at the center. But he doesn’t. If anything, it just confirms what he’s always known; that you’re his — — The only reason he’s kept that bastard around as company. For the promise of you. To be there for you. Like the time he drove ten hours to your campus for parents weekend when your father said he was too busy. A date, if he remembers correctly. But Joel didn’t mind the drive. He groans. It’s a deep, guttural noise and you blush. You were half expecting Joel to be more collected, more detached, but what would you know. Heat bubbles in your gut all the same as your hips buck once more. Joel eyes you like you’re something to eat. Biting the bone of his knuckle as you lay there, watching him, coyly, pressing your knees together in an attempt of preserving any semblance of your dignity.

In a split second, Joel’s head lowers to be level with your thighs. Gently spreading them apart to gain closer access to you and mouthing over the cotton material of your panties without a second thought. You whine, legs kicking out as you feel Joel’s mouth soil your panties even more than they already are. ”O-oh,” you try to push his head away, yet clamp your legs around his head in the same effort, overwhelmed at all of the sudden contact, but he just grips the backs of your knees — deepening his soft kiss over your still-clothed mound. You don’t know how to respond to the newfound pleasure except to try and squirm away, to which he simply hovers his head above you, replacing his mouth with a sturdy rub of his fingers, watching as your legs jolt and immediately kick at his shoulder blades; trying to squirm away from the pressure by scooting your body up the mattress. Joel tuts softly, grabbing the backs of your knees and heaves you back down toward him until you’re prone beneath him, legs forced to pliantly widen around the breadth of his burly torso. He pins you there by his hips, bearing his full weight onto you until you feel his pelvis against yours — meeting your core in a deliberate, brief grind and smirking when you twitch beneath him. “You gonna let me touch on you or you gon’ keep beatin’ me? Hm?” He does it again and you shiver.

“I’m not— I’m — stop being so — dramatic,” it’s hard to form a sentence with Joel is continuously rolling his hips against yours, not when you can feel just how hard he is. How he’s heavy against your core and you can’t believe that this is Joel.

Almost as if he could read what you were thinking, which would be feasible with the way you’re shuddering beneath him, he leans in for a greedy kiss, open mouthed and messy, before humming into the shell of your ear. “You feel that?” he punches his hips against yours to emphasize his wanting and your breath hitches.

“You feel how hard I am for you?” he nips your earlobe, rocking against you once more to let you really feel the heft of him. To remind you of his brute size, to make sure you don’t forget that mounted above you is a man. Strong enough to have you crushed into the mattress with no effort, large enough that your legs are forced to part almost painfully wide to accommodate his virile size, old enough that he has the crows lines to prove it and an age that means you could’ve been calling him daddy and mean it. “You gon’ be good for me now?” you nod against your better judgment, exhaling a shaky breath as he lifts to slither his hand to the waistband of your panties. “You gonna let me see you?” he whispers, teasing you by faking a tug of your underwear just to snicker when your legs immediately clam.

“C’mon, darlin’. Don’t be like that. Spread ‘em legs for your old man.” You don’t, still shaking, not even budging the tense press of your knees when Joel tries to pry your legs open himself. He hums in contemplation. “Let’s get those trainin’ wheels off. How ‘bout that? How ‘bout this?” his calloused fingers trace their way along your abdomen to the edge of your cami top, rubbing the exposed skin where your top has rucked up, leaning down to kiss your navel gently. He peers up at you beneath hooded eyes when your hips shift. “Hm? What’dya say?” “O-okay. Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, letting him slowly pull your shirt up the expanse of your torso and audibly groan at the sight of you exposed. Your bare breasts all his to leer at and he licks his lips, pinning your wrists beside your head when you reflexively go to hide your chest. “Fuck,” he murmurs beneath his breath, reaching out to rudely grip at your chest and smirking when you whine. Biting the flesh of your breast and groaning even louder. You shift uncomfortably beneath him, the burning of your core getting harder to ignore, and you buck your hips into nothing. Joel meets your restlessness with his fingers once more, rubbing small circles onto where you’re most sensitive.

“Joel—”

“— Let me make you feel good.” And this time you don’t oppose when he starts to tug your panties down, stealing a look between your legs before you can try and close them again, forcing your legs open with a rough grip on your knees and swearing, whistling lowly and you try reach out your leg to kick him in humiliation. “Dirty girl. You’re wet.”

You tuck your lip between your teeth. “Just… do something.”

Ignoring you, he continues his ogling; staring at you between your legs as though you weren’t there, reaching out to give you a curt smack over your core just to see how you would react. You yelp and squirm, trying to kick him once more and he laughs.

“Joel…” you’re getting fussy now. Rubbing your feet against the mattress and gnawing at your bottom lip, waiting for him to just stop scrutinizing you and do anything.

“Shh, baby. I’ve got you.” Tentatively, he finally touches you. Your breath hitches when he gently brushes his fingers against where you’re most sensitive. Pressing a bit harder when he sees your toes begin to curl and your eyes widen. “Pretty little pussy.”

“Stop—”

“Anyone ever touch you like this?” he asks you so casually that it sounds almost clinical. Like he isn’t currently touching you harder just to see you react in a way that makes his dick hard. “N-no,” you whine, leg jolting when he momentarily speeds up his motions, pressing harder onto your bud and rubbing tiny circles there.

“No? Really?”

“Fuck - oh! - off.” He chuckles, seemingly amused before he’s pulling his hand away and hooking them under your thighs to position himself between your legs once again. Lowering his head, blowing against where you’re bare to make you shiver.

“How ‘bout this? Anyone ever do this?” Joel peers up from between your legs, fixating his gaze onto yours and leaning to lazily kiss you right over the center of your core.

“Oh!” you yelp, the sensation of Joel’s mouth overwhelmingly hot against your clit makes your knees desperately try and clamp together. Joel wanted to tease you a bit. Bring you apart with his tongue. Play with you. But hearing you keen at just a measly kiss has his head spinning and cock hard — he ruts against your frilly sheets like a teenage boy, his large hands gripping the sides of your ass to bring you impossibly closer. Groaning at the taste of you and kissing and laving his tongue against your clit like a man starved.

It’s lewd. You’re so wet that you can audibly hear the squelches of where you meet Joel’s hot mouth and it’s obscene. Mortifying and mind-blowing. Your legs shake and hips spasm, but Joel just pins his forearm against your hipbones, holding you in place and shaking his head against you.

You try to bite your lip to keep your sounds at bay, but it’s no use — that unfamiliar build in your stomach creeps faster and faster and you’re moaning, too turned on and bewildered to stop yourself. Joel pulls away. Grinning when you whine, your chest heaving beautifully and Joel is possibly the hardest he’s ever been. Which is shocking, considering his age and that little blue pill he keeps on his nightstand.

“Why,” you whimper, hips squirming at the sudden lack of contact and Joel just laughs at you.

“Patience, sweet girl. Gotta get ‘ya ready.”

Ready? Oh. Ready.

Your attention is abruptly brought to the front of Joel’s jeans. The seemingly hefty bulge presses at the denim seams, so large that the fabric is taut and you gulp. If Joel senses your hesitation, he doesn’t say anything. He just wordlessly reaches his hand back between your legs, using your distraction to press a single bulking finger right between your folds.

You cry out, the stretch of his one finger being equal to two of yours and it burns. “Hurts—” he’s hovering above you, pinning your knees open with his own, mouth ghosting over yours and breathing down your neck. Kissing you softly on your jaw when he feels your tight, dripping cunt envelop him to the knuckle. “Fuckin’ hell. This all for me?” his finger presses impossibly deeper, curling and beneath the fullness, you’re starting to feel blips of pleasure beneath — sparking in bursts as he keeps curling his finger inside of you; gritting his teeth at how tight you pulse around his digit.

“Asked you a question darlin’,” he hums low into your ear, beginning to properly thrust his finger into you and smirk when your breath hitches, hips bucking into his touch. You can feel your slickness down your thighs and you burn in humiliation at the thought. Without warning, Joel tries to push in a second finger — groaning when your walls refuse him entry, clamping so tightly around his finger that he has to grit his teeth as to not come right there.

“Relax, baby. Ease up a bit, kiddo. Shit — fuckin’ stranglin’ my finger, ain’t ‘ya?” “Sorry. Jus’ feels really…!” you cry out once more, rutting your hips when his thumb comes to softly press at your clit. Your whole body shakes, and for a moment, you relax just enough so that Joel is able to push a second finger into you. His forehead presses against yours, thrusting two of his fingers into you and curling with no remorse. “Feels good, huh?” “Uh-huh!” you grind your hips back against his hand, feeling him stroking that spot inside of you that your measly fingers could never reach on your own. Your eyes roll back, your hand flying out to grab Joel’s wrist when he begins to move his fingers even faster and harder inside of you; you keen, your entire body tensing and back arching up and he impossibly slots a third digit into you, his wrist continuously circling and you — are you crying? ”So-full,” you whine, and sure enough there’s tears running down your cheek. He wants to tell you to just wait until he finally has his way with you, if he’ll even fit, but you’re clamping around his fingers so tightly that you’re unmistakably about to come. You feel beside yourself, the foreign noises you’re making registering but failing to register over the overwhelming heat coursing through your body, your toes curling and legs shaking.

“Wait-wait-wait-it’s too much… Joel!” he ignores you, curling his fingers into you with a crazed fervor that leaves you gasping, you weakly try to push his circling wrist away but it’s no use, your wrist limply falling to your side.

“Thaaats it, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” And, then, it violently crashes; your mouth slacking and body bowing as it spreads through you, searing white hot as you sob against his hovering mouth.

Your legs flail as it just keeps going, his fingers still moving inside of you and you cry out. “I know, baby. I know. I’ve got you. Da-” he has half the mind to cut himself off. You can barely register it over the crushing haze you’re in, your legs still twitching in the after effects of what is monumentally your first ever orgasm.

“What?” you timidly squeak, eyes still closed and panting for air, opening them to see Joel licking the fingers that were just inside of you, before watching as he palms himself over his jeans, his cheeks flushed and eyes dark, eyeing you beneath him with a predatory, hungry stare. Your mind goes blank. “Are we gonna…” you whisper. Shaky leg lifting to press your foot demurely against where the denim tents, and he groans, gripping your ankle and pressing a soft kiss to the skin there.

“Fuck?” he replies, curt and lewd and you blush, covering your face with your hands as if you hadn’t just cum all over his fingers. He smirks, and only now have you noticed that he’s still fully dressed and you’re completely bare beneath him.

“Dunno. Don’t know if you’re ready for that. You’re just a kid.”

“No… I am,” you whine petulantly and he tilts his head at you.

“You gonna be a big girl for me?”

You nod your head, hands grabbing at his rattled flannel to try and take it off yourself. “Yes. Yes, yes, I swear. Please.” He swats your hands away, peering down at you with a smirk in tow at your babbling.

“Oh, so she can be polite.” You’re reminded of all the times Joel tried to grill your please-and-thank-you’s into you. Not that you weren’t a polite, meek girl, you were, just not always with him — slacking on your manners at neighborhood barbecues and having to remind you by hovering your plate away from you, “what d’ya say?”, only passing it to you when you grumpily rolled your eyes and mumbled “please, sir.” You don’t dwell long on the queasiness that follows. Slowly, Joel lifts his shirt— his large biceps that he’s built from decades of construction and handy-work raising above his head to reveal the tan, built, albeit slight pudgy body that you’ve seen countless of times in his garage or by the lake, but never like this. Hulking over you and overwhelmingly man. Your eyes linger back on his face. Painfully handsome; his crows feet are a homecoming — cornering his soft, dark eyes — that sweet puppy-dog stare.

His salt and pepper scruff. Curling strands of greying hair. Saccharine tobacco. Humid southern air. The leather seats of his classic truck. “Alright smartass. Who sings this?”

Then, he moves to his belt, deft fingers pulling the leather through the loops and tossing it somewhere in the midst of your room, tugging his jeans down until he’s just in his boxers and then — oh.

He’s big. Not that there’s any history to compare him with, but it’s undeniable. You gasp at the sight, your eyes flickering to where he’s exposed himself. It looks almost sore. The thick tip of him dripping. The sight is vulgar. You gulp. Not quite sure what you were expecting, but the fat length of him and greying tuft of hair (even there!) an unrelenting reminder of his maturity, age, and above all, authority over you.

He examines your every reaction carefully, fisting himself for a moment and hissing upon the brief contact. He moves closer and forces your legs to spread to accommodate his bulking size; his body is so much larger than yours that your inner thighs burn at the stretch.

“That’s…are you sure that’s gonna… fit?” You whisper sheepishly and he barely hides his cocky smirk, hovering above you and pressing an achingly tender peck against your forehead, stroking the top of your head delicately before meeting your lips — unlike the other kisses; slowed and passionate. Intimate and gentle enough that it feels like conversation. He slots his lips against yours once, twice more; I love you, let me put my love into you, like this.

“We’ll make it fit. Always worryin’ your pretty little head, aren’t you darlin’?” With your hips forcefully splayed beneath him, he grabs himself and begins to line up his cock to where you’re embarrassingly wet. You squirm at the sensation.

“Always worryin’. Always stressin’. Poor baby.” He teases you, baiting you into holding your breath to see you buck your hips in anticipation as he traces your slit with his painfully red tip.

“Just need some lovin’, don’t-ya?” He slots the head of his member against your opening. Forcing the bulbous tip slightly inside of you and you gasp at the intrusion.

“Y-yes. Please.” Love me.

“Biiig stretch now, kiddo. It might hurt a little. But I’ve got ‘ya, okay?” You nod eagerly, lifting your head a bit to try and see him begin to enter you painfully slow, the both of you gasping, he leans against your forehead, tilting his own gaze downwards to watch alongside you. “Wait—it hurts,” you yelp, the stretch of merely the tip of him inside of you already barely manageable; he halts, trying to distract you with languid, tender kisses up the expanse of your neck. Trying for his own sake to think about anything about how tight you are. About how sacred this is. Your first time, your innocence, now his to shape. His little girl. All his. “Gotta let me in, sweetheart. Let me show you how to make love, baby.” You desperately wish that phrase would send your spine crawling rather than arching, his old man theatrics in any other scenario surely earning a snort from you, but instead, awfully, you whine, trying to spread your legs further to make space for him despite the stinging pain inside betraying you. Cautiously, he begins to move again. Pushing his length ever-so-slightly deeper until your heat has swallowed him halfway, your hips squirming in discomfort. Beneath him, you’re whining in bursts of piercing pain. You’ve never felt so full. Sweat is dripping between the two of you, his large arms bracketing your trembling frame and all you can see or think or feel is Joel. You peel your eyes open just enough to make eye-contact with him from above you, his silhouette impossibly broad and backlit only by the warmth of your bedside lamp, and by the glare of streetlights fluttering through your lace curtains.

He stares at you like he’s in disbelief. His eyebrows pinched and mouth slightly agape, pressing open-mouthed kisses over your own gasping mouth when he somehow gets even deeper — a sharp, shaky cry escaping you as he finally bottoms out. His hips finally flush against yours. He meets your wail with a groan of his own, slumping over you and inadvertently pinning his hipbones hard against the most sensitive part of you.

You try scramble away, clawing the sides of your bed, and then Joel’s bulking arms, but it’s no use — Joel’s full body weight presses against you. Fastening you to the mattress and any slight movement hurts; the thick weight of him splitting you open for him heedless of your aching. “It’s too much — you’re too much — too deep, Joel, you—”

“I know baby, I know. Hardest part is over. Just,” he gulps when you clench around him, nipping the skin of your jaw to keep him from thrusting into the wet heat of you. “Just gotta-fuck-trust me now, darlin’.”

“It hurts,” you subtly shuffle again to try and feel any bit of comfortability but it backfires — shooting a twinge of pain back through your spine and you cry out once again. Joel stops you by bearing even more of his body weight against you, tutting softly at your naive defiance and whispering gently in your ear. “C’mon, baby. Be brave for me. Don’t hurt yourself now.” He drags his knuckles against your pinched expression, leaning in for another doting kiss against your mouth. You feel his fingers trail their way down the expanse of your stomach to brush soft circles against your bud, caressing you there in hopes of distracting you from the ache. Pecking kiss after kiss and sighing contentedly when he feels you begin to slacken, just barely spasming around him and he shivers. “You feelin’ any better?” “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hips jerk against Joel’s, but this time, you gasp — not in pain, but at the fleeting feeling of Joel’s thick moving inside of you. It aches, but the brief movement forces a meek moan to spill from your lips.

“Startin’ to feel good?” You nod again, bucking your hips experimentally and the both of you groan at the feeling. You do it again, huffing at the blips of pleasure when you feel the slight drag inside of you.

“Yeah, I think so…I think,” your hips move once more to consolidate what you’re about to ask for. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Can you, please, um, I think I’m ready.” “Y’sure?” And when your heel lifts to dig into the small of his back, he doesn’t question you again.

“Please.” You whisper, your saccharine voice breaking when he meets your tiny jolts with a single, lethargic thrust — carefully pulling his hips away until only the tip remains inside of you, then driving the entire length of him back inside with a deep roll.

You keen, back arching off the mattress despite Joel’s entire weight melded against you; writhing under him as he starts actually fucking into you with fervor, rocking the length of him into you and grunting in your ear.

If his fingers made you feel full before, this was an entirely different ballpark. You could almost swear you could feel every vein of his shaft and throb of him inside you as he fills you impossibly deeper.

“Joel,” you whimper, head tilting back and he latches frantically onto the expanse of your neck, biting so hard you know you’ll be bruised in the morning, but all you can care to think about or feel is Joel.

“Shh, baby.” He coos, using all his willpower as to not rut desperately into you, and to think about the old man that could very well be downstairs; passed out or just now clicking the door open. His calculated pace falters for a beat when both of your legs wrap tightly around the bulk of his lower back, meeting his languid pumps with a grind, moaning and squirming when he grazes against a spot you never knew to exist within you. His hips snapping against yours roughly and you nod eagerly.

“Yes, Joel. Feels good now, Joel. Joel,” you cry his name out like a mantra, “more. Please. Joel. Please. Pl—” “Fuck,” he growls, his hand clasping over your mouth and gripping the sides of your jaw, squeezing so tightly you almost bite your tongue. “You ‘tryna wake up the whole goddamn neighborhood?” You shudder, eyes rolling back and Joel’s careful composure is slipping — the sound of smacking flesh ringing through the room as he begins to really give it to you; brutally plunging into you and grunting with every erratic strike.

Your whines are stifled under his palm, and you’re so wet that you’re dripping — leaving a mess over Joel’s thighs and stomach.

His knee hikes up to position your leg open in a way that fills you even more, the stretch burning deliciously and you can’t do anything but take him, his pace unrelenting and bulk pinning you in position as you spasm. “That’s it, honey.” And then, he fucking leans even closer, hovering his face less than an inch away from yours, locking his gaze directly into yours and make-shifting a kiss over his hand — right over where your mouth would be under the current suffocation of his palm.

It’s getting too much. You’re bonded to the bed under his crushing weight, the feeling of him splitting you open sending tremors through you. You’re too full. He’s too deep. He’s hitting that same spot over and over and sending violent shivers through you. You try to tell him to stop, he’s too big, it’s too much, but it’s no use — his hand remains the same, fixed over your mouth, and you’re positive you’re drooling. “Thaaat’s the spot, hm?” He can hear your hiccuped moans beneath the muted suffocation of his palm. You can feel every drag of him inside of you. “Doin’ - fuck! - doin’ so well for me, ain’t ya?” He’s really starting to lose it now. Your heat tight as a fist around him, clenching wildly, and he can’t help but slump even more against you, groaning unabashedly into your ear. Going insane with how perfect you feel. How perfect you are. His sweet, precious girl. All his.

“Brave little girl.” His hips are slamming frenetically. “Doin’ so well for your daddy.”

Your eyes shoot open to meet Joel’s disheveled stare, eyes wide and his hips pause on the deepest part inside of you, holding right against that sensitive cluster of nerves and your hips frantically write against him.

If you were any less depraved as a girl, if you hadn’t held that awful void inside of you for so long, maybe you would’ve pushed Joel off of you. Told him to fuck off. Called him a creep.

You could try to blame it on Joel’s virile stature, curse it as irresistible, but you know he’s the only person that can patch that cavity. The only one you want to.

You sob — rolling against him in a frenzy and whining because yes. Yes. You want to tell him yes. The word growling out of him ringing true like a depraved piece of a puzzle slotting into place; his hips meeting yours desperately as he rocks into you again. Your hand clutches onto his wrist as you nod. Yes. He eases his grip over your mouth, weaving your lips together instead in a bruising kiss.

You’re whimpering unabashedly into the kiss. “I know, honey. I’ve got ‘ya. Daddy’s got ‘ya. Tell me who your daddy is.”

You might not be able to face yourself when dawn arrives, but right now, it feels too good to deprive yourself of what feels right. What settles into your bones like tantalizing belonging.

“You,” you whine, chasing his mouth to steal another zealous kiss.

“Say it. Shit, honey, you feel so fuckin’ perfect.”

“Ohmy-” his pace is the most merciless it’s been since he first entered you. Slamming against you ruthlessly and you can feel that coil begin to tighten.

“Who’s your daddy?”

“Joel—” You’re on the precipice. He can feel it. Clenching around him and he’s surely going to follow behind soon.

“Fuckin’ say it—”

“You! Daddy. Daddy. Daddy, please!”

“That’s right.” He growls, and your head is spinning with adrenaline. “Think that boy could do this to you? Be what you need?” He slows his thrusts into deep, passionate drives into you. “Be your fuckin’ daddy? No, baby. I’m your daddy, ain’t I? Shit, y’needed this. Needed a man. To make love to you.

“Yes. Daddy.” Nothing could drag him away from this moment. From you. Your sweet scent. Vanilla and soft whipped musk of you. Your heady skin. Your beautiful disposition. Holding his breath just looking at you. Dreading the release building in his gut because he knows he’s made his grave, and he’ll have to lay in it come daylight.

Your entire body seizes; arching and shuddering at the electricity convulsing through you. White sparkling light littering your vision as you clamp tightly around his length, quivering and keening at the shockwaves.

“I’ve got ‘ya. Thaaat’s it, sweet girl. Daddy loves you.”

‘Let me show you how to make love.’

Your mouth is agape, wordlessly clawing at his back to try and pull him even closer to you, trembling as he fucks you through it.

The first blush of daylight is creeping through your lace curtains, spilling silhouettes of the intricate netting across your bedroom floor. Still too early for the birds to sing yet. Delicate filigree shadowing the span of Joel’s skin, muted rays of light beginning to infiltrate your room and dimly light corners of your room.

“Daddy loves you. Fuck. ‘M close, baby. Shit. Shit.” He growls into your ear, rutting into you madly and your legs tighten around him.

“Please.” He tries to shrug you off him, head spinning with the fogginess of his imminent release, but you flash him a blissed out look; eyes glazed over and pressing a painfully delicate kiss against the junction of his neck.

Sweet thing you.

You’re still convulsing beneath him, frantically grinding your hips against hiss. “Please, daddy. Love you. I love you. IloveyouJoel—” His entire body weight slumps against you. Your bodies melding and shuddering against each other as you milk him through his orgasm. You can’t get close enough. Wanting to crawl inside his skin and stay there.

He groans; gruff and virile and Joel. All him. Spilling into you like he belongs there. Like he has the right to. His little girl. “I love you, daddy. I love you. I love you.”

And for a moment, breath gasping into each other’s mouth, and dawn-light lurking behind outside, you and Joel can play pretend.

Pretend that you are his, no matter how short lived.

[withluvmia]

Captian Price rewards his girl for studying ・₊✧

Thinking about John price who helps his girl study, a young precious thing in college. His fat cock stuffed deep in her cunt as she sits on his lap, her back against his chest, legs spread wide and shaking. He put a blindfold on her so she couldn't read the textbook he was holding. One hand gripped her hip. Everytime she gets an answer right she gets three thrusts and just as the pleasure starts, it stops suddenly leaving her whining trying to desperately move but he holds her in place. He tsks, "Now now love, just five more questions" he scolds ignoring the way his cock twitches inside her gummy walls.

It's been 2 hours.

Tears are streaming down her face from frustration, needy and wanting to be fucked dumb which was a promise if she gets most of them right. She studied hard for this so she deserved to be pounded, held down and take it. Arousal has long since puddled on his lap creating a sticky mess.

Finally when she gets them right, he puts the textbook down kissing her neck with a gruff, "Good girl" and holds her down by the hips as he starts thrusting roughly into her, a fast brutal pace which has her moaning loudly. He praises her for being so smart and that she's definitely passing her exam tomorrow as she screams his name.

[impurefawn]

tw big age gap like my man’s dick (fifties!price x twenties!reader), fauxcest yum, cockwarming but it’s oral, unprotected smut (wrap it before you tap it etc etc).

connected to this post. more of them here.

soon after getting closer to you, before you even got together, price noticed that you almost always chewed gum. if you weren’t chewing gum, you were biting your bottom lip. he can’t even count how many times he’s watched you bite your poor lip until it bleeds in all the time he’s known you.

“christ, kid. stop doing that.” he’ll scold you and use his thumb to wipe the blood, his expression stern even as you pout. it’s honestly infuriating, how attractive you are even as blood runs down your chin.

and when you’re nervous? it’s your poor nails’ turn. john often swats your hand to stop you from ruining your lovely fingers. other times, when he knows you’re going through a rough time and your anxiety is reaching its peak, he’ll bandage all of your fingers to prevent you from damaging your nails or your cuticles.

he takes his role as your dad very seriously.

though, john loves the more fun parts of your oral fixation. you often bite his biceps or his shoulders, hence why one of his nicknames for you is vampire. my little vampire, to be exact. another perk of you wanting things in your mouth often, is all the times he gets to watch you chew on your pen while you study. it gets the old man going, for sure. he likes to watch you as you do an assignment and murmur words of encouragement here and there. seeing you all focused while you leave little bite marks on one of your pens has him shifting in his seat and adjusting his hardening dick. most times your reward for a study session is an orgasm or two. maybe three if you got a lot of things done and he thinks you deserve some extra love.

having his dick in your mouth for a couple of hours is also a great time. sometimes when he watches a game with you at home, not feeling like inviting the lads over, you’ll get between his knees and nuzzle his crotch until he unzips his pants. “such a good kid for yer dad.” he’ll praise you when you wait for him to take his cock out and let you put it in your mouth. you listen to your dad and it’s just makes his cock throb. the football match is over before he realises and he doesn’t even care if his team wins. all he can feel is your warm mouth around him, your occasional hums making him throb and groan. he’ll pet your head and nod, letting you know you can start sucking. coming in your mouth is the ultimate win.

today is a bad day. terrible, even.

you got up an hour earlier than your alarm and couldn’t go back to sleep. you burnt two pieces of bread before you could make proper toast. john dropped you off at the train station, like he does almost every day, but your train was late and when it arrived, it was so crowded. your best friend was sick and a random prick sat next to you instead. the guy really didn’t know what no meant and kept pestering you the whole lecture. he even tried to get your number multiple times, even after you told him you had a boyfriend. what an asshole.

as if all of that weren’t enough, it started raining the second you stepped outside your university when it was supposed to be sunny!

john comes to pick you up from the train station, eager to see his baby after hours being apart. you really have him acting like a damn teenager. but oh, when he’s met with you looking like a wet kitten, all pouty and shivering, he’s frowning more than the time soap decided to prank him by getting rid of his cigars. “oh, kiddo.” he murmurs and wraps his jacket around you before ushering you in the car and turning the heat on.

you’re quiet the whole way home and he doesn’t say anything either. just puts one of the cds he asked you to burn for him, a few different ones with your favourite songs for different occasions. the good thing about being neighbours is that you can get to his house, or he at yours, whenever. so, he leads you to his place for some much needed tlc.

a warm shower and wearing his clothes has your eyes getting teary. you’ve been so overwhelmed all day and you’ve been keeping your composure but you can’t stop the dam from breaking anymore. not when you feel so safe, with john’s scent on you. so you waddle to the kitchen, where he’s making tea, sniffling like a kid after waking up from a nightmare. well, you kind of are a kid to him, aren’t you? in some twisted sense, anyway.

he opens his arms the moment he sees you and wraps them tightly around you once you fall into his chest. “shh, s’ alright, kid. i’m right here. dad’s here.” he shushes you and caresses your back, his heart breaking with each sob that leaves your mouth. you cry and cry until you can’t breathe properly, scaring your old man. he can’t have anything bad happening to his baby. so he taps your cheek a couple times to get you to look up. “open your mouth.” it’s an order, one that you immediately follow, and he smiles before inserting two finger in your mouth.

the way you instantly seem to calm down is very satisfying to john. he watches you fondly as you suck and nibble on his fingers, caressing your cheek with his other hand. “good, yeah?” he murmurs and you hum around his fingers, making a shiver run down his spine.

after a few minutes, you speak up, not taking his fingers off your mouth. “dad. need you, please.” your words are a little muffled but their effect on him is very clear.

“yeah? y’need yer dad, baby?” he asks as he moves his fingers in your mouth. he feels around your teeth, your tongue, your gums… he loves feeling every part of you, wants to commit each detail of you in his memory. a groan leaves his mouth when your hand cups his hard on and he’s quick to remove his fingers before pressing his lips against yours. it’s a messy kiss, teeth clashing and spit getting all over.

it’s not long before you're lying on the kitchen counter, legs spread with john between them. he strokes his dick a couple times before he slides in, making you moan and clutch his biceps. “dad! oh fuck. da-mph.” you whine and whimper as he puts his pointer and middle finger in your mouth again, his hips moving in quick and deep thrusts. you alternate between moaning and sucking on his fingers, biting down when he hits that spot that makes you see stars.

“so fucking tight.” he grunts and keeps pounding into you like a man on a mission. he keep his eyes on you, unable to look away. you’re like an angel, sprawled over the counter with your pretty mouth around his digits. what a sight for sore eyes. “dad’s got you, kiddo. i’ll fuck those yucky feeling away.”

one of your hands finds his free one, intertwining your fingers. you’re not even aware of how it almost makes him cum on the spot. you just keep grinding your hips and suckling on your dads finger. that’s the only thing in your head. dad, dad, dad. all that matters.

“let go for dad, kiddo.” price uses that tone that has you complying immediately. he can feel you spasming and clenching around him while your fingers dip in his hand, your other hand gripping his so tightly that it has him groaning in pain. it’s enough to push him to the edge, his seed filling you up.

he lets you settle down for a few minutes before he pulls out. “i know. i know, baby. i’m sorry.” he murmurs when you wince and rubs your thigh as he watches his cum drop out of you. “jesus christ. can’t ever get enough of this.”

[easybbgrl]

Porch-light lullaby

Summary: Every night on the porch, Joel cockwarms you to sleep in his old rocking chair.

CW: ddlg, sex, use of the word paci, cockwarming.

A/N: this idea has been rattling around in my head for months- and the details I was missing, finally came together in my head! I hope u like it!

500 words

It happened every night.

After your sleepy tea, and brushing your teeth together; Joel wrapped you in your favorite blanket, and scooped you in his arms. Sweet little butterflies would burst into your tummy as you anticipate what’s coming.

The screen door squeaks open and shut, and the porch creeks under Joel’s socked feet, as he makes his way to the old rocking chair. It had bowed and softened with age; used by his father, and grandfather.

You hold tight as Joel sits back into the rocker; settling your legs on the outside of his thighs.

You curve your back to give Joel a little room to slide his hand between you. Those butterflies quake again as you feel his cock lifted out from the fly of his soft cotton pjs.

“Alright, baby. Come sit on your paci.”

A small moan reverberates from your throat as you melt into his words. Lifting your hips and positioning his tip right where you need him most.

His free hand braces your hip; guiding you down.

“That’s my girl. Just like that.”

Joel drinks in the look on your face as he fills you completely. It boosts his ego to know he’s the biggest you’ve ever had. All these years together; and you’re still left breathless every time he feeds you his cock.

“How’s that empty feeling, sweet girl? ‘Little better?” He soothes your hair down your back; softly encouraging you to relax against him. You lean forward and rest on him.

You nod dumbly. Too full; too sated; to speak.

“Gooood. Good girl. Now you close your eyes, and let daddy lull you to sleep.”

Joel never really cared for sleep, before you. The nights were lonely without Sarah. And the darkness brought danger, not peace, in this post-apocalyptic world.

But then you came along; and changed everything. Now, Joel loved nights. He loved babying you and caring for you like this. Your insatiable need to be close to him; have him inside you as much as humanly possible; led to Joel coming up with the porch bedtime routine. It helped you so much, knowing that no matter what happened each day, that you’d end the night in his arms; on his cock; settled your heart, and eased your never-ending libido.

You curl into him close; pulling the blanket up around your shoulders. You shiver as his deep voice vibrates your skin… humming the same lullabies he used to sing to Sarah in her crib. His voice soothes you. Grounds you in a way nothing else does. After the first song; you’re boneless and so, so relaxed.

Joel holds you in his arms; warm and steady. Rocking you back and forth; back and forth; letting the motion settle your mind, and release any tension in your body; until you’re pliant and heavy against him. And he thrusts up into you so gently. Soft little presses, to satiate your needy pussy, and tease your clit; as you drift slowly off to sleep.

And when your breathing deepens, and you stop clutching his shirt; Joel knows you’re asleep. He’ll rock you for another twenty minutes or so, enjoying your weight on him. His cock cozily tucked away inside you.

And eventually he’ll carefully get up, you in his arms, and take you to bed. Not taking his cock out of you until you’re lovingly laid down in bed.

[hauntedinkk]

Ooof, idk if I should cry or whip out my vibrator. So sweet. I am on a complete Easybbgrl masterlist binge atm if you guys couldnt already tell🤣

[silverlullabies]

tw: fauxcest.

Stepdad!Price is halfway through a slow, punishing thrust when he suddenly stops.

Not pulls out, just… still. Cock buried deep, hips pressed flush to yours, breath hot at your ear. The pause makes you whine before you even know why, your body already climbing and furious at the interruption.

“Daddy?” you breathe, tears springing.

His hand slides down your arm, fingers closing around your delicate wrist. He pulls it between your bodies, guiding your palm lower until your fingers brush your clit, already swollen, oversensitive, slick from the way he’s been dragging you apart.

“Touch yourself,” he orders quietly.

Your breath stutters. “What- ?”

“Go on, kid,” he murmurs, moustache grazing your cheek as he nudges your fingers more firmly into place. “Rub it.”

You do. Tentative at first, just a small circle, and your hips jerk instantly, a sharp little gasp tearing out of you. You’re so close it hurts, clamping so tight around his cock he hisses.

Heat vaults up your spine. Your lashes flutter. He keeps your wrist cupped in his palm, making you keep the pattern while he pulls out halfway and sinks back in, slow, mean, perfect.

“Fuck- D-Dad- ohmygod.” Your hips try to run; his forearms tighten under your knees and pin you sweetly open.

“Like that,” Price grunts, voice low. “Don’t stop.”

Then he starts moving again.

Slow at first. Deep. Each thrust deliberate, rolling right into your cunt while your own fingers work your clit under his watchful gaze. The coordination wrecks you; your brain scrambling to keep up with sensation coming from everywhere at once.

“Oh- fuck- Daddy,” you whimper, rhythm breaking as your fingers slip.

He tightens his grip on your wrist, correcting you without slowing his pace. “Uh-uh. Keep it there, kid. That’s it.”

The pleasure spikes fast. Your body tightens, heat coiling sharp and sudden. You’re barely keeping up, breath coming in little broken sounds as he drives you higher.

“’m- I’m gonna- ” you gasp.

“I know,” he says, like this was always the plan. He leans down, teeth scraping your shoulder. “Let it happen, kiddo.”

You come hard, crying out, fingers trembling against your clit as your whole body clamps down around him. It’s blinding, overwhelming, the kind of orgasm that steals your breath and leaves your muscles weak.

The second it crests, instinct kicks in.

You try to pull your hand away with a helpless sob.

Price doesn’t let you.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, kid.” The words are velvet over steel. He pins your wrist with two fingers, presses, coaxes your touch back into motion while his hips grind you through your peak and straight into the bright edge beyond it. “Rub. Nice and pretty. That’s it.”

You choke on a broken sound, body jerking as overstimulation hits, every nerve lit up, too sensitive, too much. “Dad- please- ”

“Breathe,” he says, steady, grounding. “You’re safe, kid. I’ve got you.”

His grip is firm but careful, watching your face, gauging every reaction as he keeps your fingers moving in slow, relentless circles. The pleasure turns sharp, then dizzying, your thighs trembling as you whine helplessly.

“That’s my girl. Look at you.” He bends until his chest blankets yours, hair tickling your nipples as he cages you. “Crying for me and you’re still doing as you’re old man tells you. Perfect.”

“I- I can’t- ” you sob, even as your hips tilt up to meet him. “‘S too much-!”

“Yes, you can,” he answers, rolling his hips deeper. “You’re doing so good for your dad.”

Your body flutters, another smaller orgasm ripping through you whether you want it or not, tears pricking your eyes from how intense it feels. Price groans at the way you clamp around him, pace finally faltering as his control slips.

“That’s it,” he grits out, forehead dropping to yours. “Just like that.”

He releases your wrist only to slide his hand up and brace himself beside your head, thrusts turning rough and urgent as he chases his own end. You’re a mess beneath him, hands still trembling, clit overstimulated and aching, every nerve singing.

Your second orgasm spills out of you, long, trembling, your sounds gone high and thin and gone. You clamp around him, clutching at his shoulders, at his hair, at anything you can grab, and he groans like a man dragged under, drives twice, three times, and buries himself deep with a guttural, fuck, kid.

He stills immediately after, breath heavy, then softens, kissing your temple, your cheek, your mouth. His hand returns to your wrist, but this time he gently lifts it away, fingers lacing with yours instead.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your knuckles. “You did perfect, kiddo.”

You’re boneless, wrecked, and floating, heat buzzing pleasantly now that it’s fading.

“…you’re mean,” you mumble weakly.

“Mm,” Price huffs a quiet laugh and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You like your old man that way. Now let’s get cleaned up before your mum comes home.”

[silverlullabies]

John “Breeding Kink” Price who finds out you don’t use condoms and has the one single goal of knocking you up and leaving you with the baby. He goes hard, deep, unrelenting, every position, every surface, multiple times a day. It’s about impregnation. About ownership. About planting something so deep inside you that you can never shake him. Not even if you tried.

He watches your body like a hawk. Tracks your cycle. Fucks you stupid the week you’re ovulating, dripping possessiveness every time he spills cum deep inside you. Doesn’t stop even when you’re shaking, overstimulated, dazed and bruised from the intensity of it all.

And every time your period comes on time, like clockwork, his eyes get darker. His thrusts rougher. His grip bruising. He mutters curses under his breath, things like “Useless little cunt,” and “You better hold onto it this time,” while forcing his cock as deep as he can go, grinding slow just to flood you with another load. When he pulls out and watches it leak, he shoves it back in with his fingers, murmuring things like “not wasting a drop, sweetheart” or “c’mon, take it all.”

He starts keeping you in bed longer. Legs up, hips tilted, cock still twitching inside you even after he’s emptied everything he’s got. All in a desperate, obsessive attempt to make it take.

Vs.

You, who saw through his game from the very beginning. You, who never told him your tubes were tied years ago, because honestly? The dick is spectacular and watching him lose his mind trying to breed a body that can’t be bred is just icing on the cake.

[hauntedinkk]

rise and shine ~ old man!joel

kinktober day thirty one

tags: MDNI!! smut, all participants are adults, somnophilia, technically non/con but reader is kinda into it, dd/lg relationship, jackson!joel, peepaw joel, age gap (20s/60s), sleepy reader, desperate joel, f!orgasm and creampie.

summary: daddy can’t control himself and fucks you in his sleep.

“sh - shhh, i know honey, i know.” joel’s groaning voice cut through the darkness, his palm pressed firmly against your mouth as his other hand pulled your panties off, ripping them in the meantime.

you squeaked at the sound of the fabric ripping and squirmed, but joel kept you down firmly by straddling your legs, keeping you from moving away from his hungry grip.

you were so confused, the last time you were awake you were falling sleepy in daddy’s arms, now he was on top of you and wanted playtime? this had never happened before considering it took a while to get joel ready, what with his cock not cooperating in the best of times.

“m’sorry — god, i’m sorry baby. daddy just needs ya right now.” he admitted, voice cracking mid sentence and his tone a little frantic. you weren’t sure you’d ever seen joel like this and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t worry you just a little.

“b-but daddy, i was sleeping,” you croaked, voice muffled by his hand until he eventually removed it from your mouth. “you’re scaring me a little..”

joel’s heart cracked at the sight of you. sprawled out beneath him, shirt pushed up just enough so your tits were exposed — something he did before you woke up — eyes a little teary. he wasn’t sure if it broke his heart or turned him on. “oh, baby girl. it’s okay. ya don’t needa be scared o’daddy, he ain’t gonna hurt ya. daddy just needs to play with his girl a little. you gonna let that happen, honey?”

you let out a shaky breath, joel’s comforting tone was starting to twist your arm a little. and you did love to please him, didn’t you? “..okay,” you said finally. “but only if you promise to be gentle, daddy. i don’t like when you get mean.”

and he did — get mean sometimes. god knew he just couldn’t fucking help himself, especially when you looked so damn adorable. the simplest little things could push him over the edge. like how you’d cling to his finger when the mess hall got a little crowded, or when you’d ride shimmer together and you’d rest your head on his shoulder, humming a little tune he’d never recognise.

but then sometimes he did have genuine reasons to be rough. like when you’d misbehave, he’d give you a couple spankings on your pretty ass or pussy until you cried and apologised to his liking. or, if you got a little bratty in public, extra touchy under tables, biting that fucking lip so deliberately. then he’d fucking give it to you. make you cum till you cried, kind of like how a parent would make their kids smoke the whole pack of cigarettes after catching them smoking — if ya wanted it that bad, you better fucking’ take it, kid.

but tonight, you weren’t being like that. if anything, he was the one misbehaving. so he nodded, reaching down to cup your cheek, giving your lip a soothing stroke. “of course, honey. slow n’steady it is. let daddy give it t’ya, hm?”

you nodded sleepily, letting him manoeuvre so he was hovering over you, leaning down to press his forehead to yours as he lined his dick head up with your opening, feeling how you were already that bit wet, maybe you started getting aroused in your sleep — joel thought.

“here we go. ya gonna be a brave girl f’me?” joel asked, giving you a crooked, playful grin.

you giggled, reaching up to wrap your arms around his head. “the bravest girl.”

and then, he pushed in. and agonisingly slow at that. your eyes fell shut at the stretch — no matter how much you and daddy played together, the stretch was always there, but it wasn’t as bad as it was the first time. your pussy still clenched even thinking about it to this day. it was safe to say there were a lot of tears that night.

“fuuuck, kiddo,” joel moaned, closing his owns eyes just as you opened yours. “always so goddamn tight. so fuckin’ warm too.”

you whimpered in response but it turned into a soft hiccup as joel continued pushing in till he bottomed out. you felt impossibly full and for a second, it was almost too much. “daddy.. daddy s’too full.” you gasped.

“ohhh. i know. just stuffed up, baby. ain’t ya? that’s okay, ain’t ever too full f’daddy,” he told you, giving you a shallow thrust right against that spot in hopes of calming you down. the bulging of your soft belly caught Joel’s eye. this was his favourite part. the outline of him was pretty clear and it made his cock twitch. he lay a hand over it, pressing down gently. “s’where daddy needs to be. s’where he belongs.”

you sniffled. things were barely even started and you were already crying, a single tear rolling down your cheek. “s’tingly..” you cried, clutching the hairs at the back of Joel’s neck, making him hiss a little.

“yeah, that’s good, baby,” he comforted, starting to rock his hips at a steady, tender pace, concentrating on brushing his tip off that sweet spot that he loved so much inside of you. he loved the way your eyes lit up when he found it and gave it the care it needed and deserved. “how about ya try an’cum for daddy in a lil’while? give m’cock some lovin’ from his favourite girl.”

“mm-nngmm.. i w- i wanna but i don’t know f’i can yet,” you winged, your walls squeezing around his length almost painfully, eliciting a deep groan from joel.

oh here we go, joel thought. you always got like this when he fucked you just right, stubborn and whiny, just not ready to let go and allow yourself to fucking feel good. he sighed. “what m’gonna do with ya, kid? ya know ya can do it in time, ya always make a mess when i get that little spot. just focus on it, honey. it’ll come t’ya soon. then daddy can fill ya up, how’s that sound?”

you groaned, eyes fluttering shut as joel fucked himself further into your core, his tip gently bumping your cervix with each rock of his old hips. you hid your face in his chest, sniffling as he continued to pump you. you felt restless. if felt good but you were tired and just wanted to go back to sleep.

“if i make a mess will you promise to snuggle with me after?” you whispered hopefully, bringing your arms down from his neck and wrapping them a little more comfortably around his back, your dull finger nails digging in with every thrust.

joel let out a choked chuckle, nodding his head with a smile as he fucked you in heavy, slow strokes, gliding every vein through those warm, gummy walls of yours. “cross m’heart, baby doll. might even give ya some o’those back scratches ya like.”

joel pressed down on your belly a little harder and your eyes rolled back at the feeling, the pressure. it was a feeling you couldn’t describe and the way he brushed your g-spot and bumped your cervix, that little mix of pain and pleasure? it started to create a knot-like feeling in your abdomen.

joel seemed to notice your reaction as his smile only grew and his thrusts only sped up. not fast necessarily, just harder. “oh, ya like that, hm? ya like when daddy feels his cock in your belly? feels how deep he can get?”

“mm-mhm.. s’nice. ohh — daddy, i can feel it building.” you sobbed into his chest, drool starting to spill from the corners of your mouth.

“yeah? s’buildin’ real deep, honey. c’mon now. show daddy how hard ya can cum on his cock.” and he was being a little selfish too. he wasn’t really making you cum for your benefit as he acted. if he were being honest, he just loved feeling that cunt ripple around him, that baby pussy gushing that pretty pearly liquid around his dick.

it also helped him get there too. sometimes when he fucked you, it took him a little while to get to that big o, but usually with all your squeezing and milking when you had your release, it’d push him over the edge.

you pressed a couple messy kisses to joel’s hairy chest, your drool coating his skin as you suckled a little on his flesh. “need m’pacy daddy,” you mumbled, your cries progressively getting a little quieter, a sign that you’d be cumming very soon, what with the way your pussy seemed to twitch around his length.

and oh, did joel know what you meant by that. he immediately lifted his thumb and placed it in front of your lips and you opened obediently, sucking his thumb into your mouth to pacify yourself. you always did have somewhat of a oral fixation. “good girl — dsddy’s girl. she’s bouta cum, ain’t she? c’mon darlin’ let me feel it.”

joel dropped his other hand underneath your bodies, his thumb finding your little nub immediately and starting to rub it side to side just how he knew you liked. you always got off quicker like this. you sucked harder on his thumb, your eyes tearing up even more as you felt that knot tighten in your abdomen and finally, you decided to let go of that tension.

joel moaned, feeling your walls clench and unclench on his cock rapidly as you came apart from him and he could practically feel your eyes roll into the back of your head. you buried your face further into his skin, your mouth slackening around daddy’s thumb, unable to suck, scream or even breath at the impact.

joel started to move his hips a little harsher now, fucking you with little consideration for your comfort, the only thing on his mind being filling that pussy of yours up to the brim. he snapped his hips roughly, and you groaned brokenly, your eyes falling shut as he took what he needed from your broken body.

“here it comes, baby girl. take it deep f’me. take it — take it f’daddy.” joel moaned, his balls drawing up tight as his tip spurted erratically inside of you, his seed making a bee line for your womb.

joel whined under his breath, his chin falling atop of your head as he milked the remainder of his release before pulling out when it got too much, watching the creamy liquid follow his cock before he pushed it back in with his index.

“oh honey, such a good girl. c’mere, look at this.” he ordered softly, lifting his thumb out of your drooling mouth and tilting your chin up with the intention of showing you your messy hole.

but, he was met with your eyes shut, your sleeping form snoring softly as the remaining saliva dropped down the corner of your mouth.

joel huffed, smiling to himself as he rolled you over.

guess you’ll be sleepin’ with daddy’s cum inside ya tonight, baby girl.

likes, comments and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! happy kinktober everyone👻🎃

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[rawme-price]

"Hey, kid, you need to breathe" a hand pats against your cheek, and you blearily look up to see price.

Face flushed, chest gleaming with sweat as he braces over you. His cock still hitting so fucking deep, it takes you a moment to actually register the words and breathe in a sudden gasp.

The black dancing at the edge of your vision recedes, and price smiles proudly "thereee we go. Good job, kid." A hand presses into the back of your knee and forces it wider, making you gasp "yer old man's cock a bit too much? Makes you too dumb to breathe?"

You want to deny him, to tell him no, you can handle it just fine but then he's proving your hips up just right and any thought is knocked out of you, lungs seizing as you try to bear the pleasure. It's always so embarrassing, how you can't seem to handle getting fucked without holding your breath unintentionally, but at least price takes it in stride.

"Fu– dad–" you whine, so overwhelmed yet still wanting more. The crows feet by prices eyes crease, and he leans down to bite your neck. Adding another one to your collar of bruises. "Aww, i know, i know. You can't help it, can't tell me to stop either."

"You love lying down and letting a man twice your age do what he wants, huh?" Price groans appreciatively when you clench particularly hard at that, laughing. "Mhh, and you say I'm the fuckin' pervert."

When he fills you up, making sure to thrust to the hilt so he can watch the cum spill out of you as he pulls out, he kisses your temple. "Deep breaths, love. I'll grab you some water."

[shamelessramblings]

Part 5 of lieutenant!simon stays with sergeant!reader because his flat has mold and seeing you off-duty knocks him sideways

The rain had stopped sometime before dawn. The streets outside were slick but quiet, and Simon had been gone before the sun even thought about rising. Running helped, or that’s what he told himself. The burn in his lungs was easier to manage than the pit in his stomach. By the time he came back, your flat was still quiet and dark, the smell of damp pavement and sweat clinging to him. He showered, dressed, made his tea. No noise, no hesitation. Routine. He did everything he could to ignore the fact that you were behind your door, asleep like something he’d only just realized he’d protect long after the mission ended.

You didn’t wake until the light had crept too far across your floor and onto your pillow. The dull pulse behind your eyes made you regret every shot of cheap tequila, but not nearly as much as the memory of his mouth on yours. You moved slow. The silence was deafening. His door was shut when you passed it, and for a moment you thought maybe he’d already gone. Maybe you’d been spared.

But you found him at the kitchen instead. Fresh shirt, hair still damp, mug in hand. Of course he was. He glanced up when you entered, just once, and that felt worse than if he hadn’t.

“Mornin’,” he said. The word was neutral, clipped clean of anything else.

“Hey.” Your voice came out hoarse. You cleared your throat. “You’re up early.”

“Went for a run.” He took another sip of tea, eyes on the window instead of you.

You nodded, pretending the kettle needed your attention. “Head’s killin’ me.”

He hummed, a sound that could’ve meant anything. “Hydrate.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant.” It came out sharper than you meant, but he didn’t flinch. Just rinsed his mug, set it on the counter.

“I’ll be out for a bit,” he said finally, jacket slung over one shoulder, voice low. “Need to check on the flat.”

You wanted to ask if the mold was gone. If he was going. But the words tangled in your throat.

“Right,” you said instead. “Good luck with that.”

He gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

He slipped past you, the air thinning as he barely brushed the small of your back. When the door closed behind him, you realized you hadn’t taken a full breath since you walked in.

The flat had stayed too still, every sound too loud. Once the headache dulled to a throb, you went to the gym. Trained until your legs burned, until there was nothing left but the ache. You pushed harder than you should have, muscle and memory both. Kept your body busy. Kept your mind busier. Tried to forget the way his thighs felt under yours on the couch.

By the time you got home, the sky had gone grey again. You showered, made something simple for supper and ate at the counter with the hum of the fridge for company again. You’d almost convinced yourself he wasn’t even coming back today when you heard the door unlock.

Simon stepped in, boots heavy on the floor, eyes flicking to you just once. You froze cleaning up after yourself. “Didn’t know if you’d be back for dinner,” you said, aiming for casual. The words sounded thinner out loud.

He gave a short nod, hung up his jacket. “Right. S’alright.” His voice was steady, too steady.

“Figured you'd sort yourself,” you said quickly, too quickly, hands already wet in the sink to give yourself something to do.

He hummed, low in his throat, something unreadable flickering across his face. He couldn’t tell if it was guilt or the comfortable routine you'd fallen into, but he hated that you’d eaten alone. He leaned against the counter beside you, arms crossed, watching you rinse a plate. The silence stretched too long, the air too heavy.

Then, finally, “Think I’ll stay at Soap’s for a bit."

Your hand slipped, the plate clattering hard against the sink. “What?”

He straightened slightly. “Wore out my welcome, I think." The words were too light, too easy. They hit like a punch anyway.

You blinked down at the soap gathering in the drain, forcing your voice steady. “I don’t think that’s true,” you said, tone clipped, not looking at him. “But whatever you wanna do, Simon.”

He didn’t answer right away. You could feel him watching you, the weight of it heavy between your shoulder blades. You kept washing the same dish twice, jaw tight, pretending you didn’t care. Pretending his decision didn’t cause something sharp in your chest. It is fine, you told yourself. I’ll be happy to have my flat back to normal, your brain lied.

When he finally spoke, it was quiet. “Didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

He lingered, jaw tight, eyes fixed somewhere past you. You could hear the breath leave him before he spoke. “We were pissed, yeah?” he said finally, voice low, like if he said it quiet enough it might sound true. “It happens.”

Your hand stilled in the sink. Water kept running, hot and steady. You gave a short, humorless laugh. “Right. Happens.”

He nodded once, still not looking at you. “Good. Then we don’t need to—”

You turned suddenly, leaning your hip against the counter now, arms crossed, hands quickly dried on your sweatshirt. ““That what you’re doin’ then? Pretending it never happened?”

That made him look at you. Really look. The muscle in his jaw jumped, eyes flicking over your face like he was searching for a fight or forgiveness.

“Could make things easier,” he said after a beat.

You exhaled, soft but sharp. “What—you leave an’ forget it?”

He shook his head, jaw tight. “Already gave that a go this mornin’.”

You stared at him, searching for the joke that wasn’t there. “Didn’t work?"

He met your eyes. “Not even close."

You nodded once, something small and almost sad tugging at your mouth, “Right, well... yeah, me neither.”

The silence lingered, heavy, but softer this time. Your chest eased as the truth of what you’d both just admitted sank in. You turned back to the sink, rinsing the last plate like it was the most important task in the world.

“Anyway,” you said, too lightly, “Soap’s flat’s a bloody health hazard. You wouldn’t last a night.”

That earned a low hum from him, barely a laugh. You didn’t look up, didn’t need to. He stayed where he was, leaning against the counter, watching the water run.

Neither of you said another word.

But he never got around to packing that night.

series taglist: @alphabetically-deranged, @mamamayhem36, @onceuponanightmareisawme @happy-turtle123 @ohnoniall93 @smutlover2025 @badbyeyoongi @succulambb @thatsavioletiontobe @lolcow4eva @gensarch @bi-witch-bxtch @valentxi @feegrh32 @drewsuncrustables @obixwan @lilynotdilly @myrichan @seraphim-terrestrial @ninniesontheglass3 @edgarapoecolouredglasses @mingisleftpinky @jaluley @entumtum @cinnamongirlxlovesong @ghostheartart @lavedi @thatgurlyoudunn0 @soapscanonwife @cum-tea-and-towels @lordbugs @shroompette @quinn-munson @freezing-supernova @a--505 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rinhvnt @kleeshaa @weeping-treee @nicolet1223 @strawberrygato @bluecaramelsocks @tellerihardlyevenknowher @b4n4n4pudding2 @fierceanduntamedemotions @maybe-not-this @lilolu1111 @oliviaewl @wowtheuniverse @tovecg @idkmanijustworkhereok @sanctifiedcanines @sweetpeakarolinaaa @rahi3066 @homosexual-pool-noodle @smutlover2025

A/N: overwhelmed by the amount of love and taglist requests! thank you all so much for reading - can't wait to keep it going.

[strang3lov3]

Problem Child

You cum untouched in Joel's bed.

Tags - smut, cumming untouched, humiliation, girthy yet unspecified age gap, dad’s best friend!joel, masturbation, finger fucking. if this looks like romangerri there's a reason for that. A/N - about probably a year ago I had plans to start a dbf!joel x slime!puppy reader series and never did. Here’s a little of what that kinda would have looked like. Maybe we’ll add onto this and flesh it out some more at some point.  

Joel feels you there before he sees you. A shift in the air, or something. He wasn’t really sleeping soundly to begin with.  

“Jesus Christ.” Joel jerks awake and jumps at the sight of you standing at the edge of his bed, looking down at his sleeping form. He’s lying on his side with his blanket tucked under his bicep, wearing a thin gray t-shirt and boxers. “The hell are you doin’ here,” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep. He’s not in the mood for you, for…this. He knows what it is. Parental intuition and all that, or he’s just especially attuned to pick up on your bullshit. 

“I can’t sleep.” 

Joel turns toward the clock, and squints to read the glowing red numbers - 12:37 in the morning. He rolls his eyes, then adjusts deeper into the mattress. “So go back to bed.” 

“Can I sleep with you?”

“No,” Joel clips. “Told you I’m not doin’ that again.” 

Joel’s blanket rustles as he flips over, hoping that you’ll leave him alone this time. He shuts his eyes and curses to himself, waiting to hear your footsteps as you walk away. But you never do. You remain at his side, lingering, waiting for him to cave to you. 

Joel is just a man, after all. And he knows this himself, as his jaw tightens and his body tenses. 

“I’m not here to cause trouble, Joel. I just wanna sleep in your bed tonight.” 

“Why?”

“I’m having nightmares.” 

Joel inhales and exhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he resigns, dragging a hand down his face. He lifts up his blanket then, and you’re quick to shuffle around the edge of his bed, then slide into the sheets next to him. Joel’s bed is warm, and it smells just like him - Irish Spring soap, sweat, detergent. You fucking love it. You always did.  

Before you can wriggle your way into his arms, Joel flips back over to where he originally lay, although maybe a few inches closer to his nightstand. Maybe he’ll even wedge a pillow between your bodies, he doesn’t know. But what Joel does know is that you’ll remain at arm’s length, and that’s all you’re going to get from him. “You face the wall and y’don’t move,” Joel gruffs. “Now close your eyes and go the fuck to sleep.” 

“But wait–”

“What?” Joel snaps, sharp voice cutting through the dark.

“I…need a goodnight kiss, Joel.” 

Joel mutters to himself, moving his body anyway. “C’mere - if I kiss you will you go to sleep?” He leans over you and holds you by your shoulder, squeezing you hard. He’s like that when he’s agitated, rough with his hands. It’s why his truck door doesn’t close right and why there’s chips in the wood in his furniture. It just spills out of him. 

“Yes.” 

Joel looks at you and sighs, exasperated. “You are too fuckin’ old for this crap,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your skin warm under his whiskered lips. “Givin’ me a fuckin’ headache. Now go to bed. M’serious, kid. No funny business this time.” Joel reaches for the bottle ibuprofen he keeps on his nightstand and untwists the cap, dumping a small handful of pills into his calloused palm. He takes them without counting them, and washes them down with a mouthful from his room temperature, two day old glass of water.

You. 

You are a fucking issue.

Joel’s not an idiot. He knows you’ve always had eyes for him. Always. When you were younger and developing into yourself, you had also developed a crush on him. And it wasn’t a big deal, at least it shouldn’t have been. He knows how young girls work. You couldn’t get along with your father and Joel was there to…mediate, maybe. He didn't know what he was doing. Give you both space from each other, maybe. Your wires became crossed or whatever, some weird Freudian bullshit that Joel had figured would go away with time, but it never really did. 

He had never engaged with it before. Joel doesn’t know what all happened, just that you and he were at odds, so tense in this very bedroom not so long ago. You were on his last fucking nerve and he just - he fucking snapped. He made the stupid mistake of telling you to masturbate out all of your fucking bullshit and what had happened?

“Maybe I will,” you taunted, tossing yourself onto his mattress, playing at your own game. Joel stood there seething and pissed off as you unzipped your jeans and shoved your hand beneath the fabric, toying with your soaked folds. “Maybe I’ll do it right here, Joel. With you.” 

“Then shit or get off the fuckin’ pot. Dealt with plenty worse than an attention seekin’ brat fingering herself. Go. Figure yourself out.” 

He knew better. Joel fucking knew better than to test you like that. And he sat and watched as you fucked yourself, equal parts disturbed and aroused as you moaned his name, and moaned louder as he told you how ridiculous and fucking disgusting you were.

Joel sat at the end of his bed in the morning, waiting for you to wake up. And when you did, he apologized. His voice was quiet. Joel told you that what happened was wrong and most importantly, it wasn’t happening again. “Okay, Joel,” you’d said, and later made a joke in front of everyone about masturbating in his bed. He dragged you by the bicep into the bathroom to scold you, bruising your flesh as he shook you by the shoulders. 

You always were a problem child. 

You know what you’re here for, even if you’re not honest about it. You’ll get your goodnight kiss and then some before going the fuck to sleep. 

Same as before, you slip your hand into your sweatpants, fingers dipping between your wet, sensitive lips. You gasp quietly, palm over your mouth as you rock your hips and watch Joel sleep. God, you’re fucked up. He’s fucking right, about you being an attention whore or whatever. And why wouldn’t you be, when cumming felt so much better in Joel’s presence? 

You spread your legs, pressing your fingers against your drooling hole to collect your arousal, and drag it through your folds. You circle your clit a couple of times, then slide two fingers into your wet cunt, curling them quick enough to make sound. Wet, sticky noises that rouse Joel from his rest, not that he was really sleeping. 

Joel flips over and pulls the blanket off of your body, scoffing at the sight of your hand rapidly moving under your sweatpants. “So that’s what this is,” he spits. “I knew you were full of shit.” 

“Yeah,” you whimper, fucking your fingers harder. “Yeah, I was.” Your breaths quicken, heart pounding as Joel glares at you. His chest is rising and falling with the deep, measured breaths, and he looks so angry like he could fucking hurt you. You wonder if he ever would. If that’s what it’d take to finally get through your thick fucking skull. 

“What would your old man say, huh? I think - get your fuckin’ hand out of - he’d be ashamed of you,” Joel hisses, pulling your hand away from yourself. He pins them both on the pillows by your head, then crawls over your body, his fingers squeezing your wrists hard enough to grind the bones inside together. “Because you’re fuckin’ sick,” he spits, his voice like venom. 

“Touch me,” you whisper, vibrating beneath Joel’s body. He’s close enough you could fucking taste him, and what would happen if you did? 

“No - I’m not enablin’ this shit, goddammit. I changed your fuckin’ diapers for christ’s sake. You listen to me - listen. You have a fucking problem, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah - yes,” you whimper, every one of Joel’s words going straight to your core. He’s got his knee between your thighs as he speaks, and you rock yourself against him there, desperate for the friction. 

“Knock it off.” Joel pulls his knee away, pressing it under your thigh, keeping you spread wide and untouched. “Fuckin’ animal. I don’t want any part of your shit,” he seethes, breath hot against your ear. Joel ignores your squirming and your moaning as he speaks, growling quiet insults. 

It feels good to feel bad. It feels good to be under Joel like this, untouched as he degrades you, shames you, humiliates you. Every one of of his words sets every one of your nerves on fire, and goes right to the place you need Joel the most, where he promises he will never fucking touch you. As he speaks, you writhe in pleasure, all of it created within yourself. 

“You always were a fuckin’ problem child, huh?”

You moan loudly, arching your back into Joel as you cum from his stinging words alone. You feel it deep in your guts, rolling down your thighs and up your torso, tingling in your fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m - fuck - I’m sorry, I didn’t - I didn’t mean - oh my god.” 

Joel’s in over his head with you. He watches you cum like that, completely untouched and completely desperate for him. Sick fucking puppy. He doesn’t know what to do with you. 

if you enjoyed, please reblog ♡ i really really appreciate it.

[toxicanonymity]

Can you write more for leopard print with Joel & Tommy pls

Imagine you're in the gas station, and you reach for the Takis, and your hand meets. . . Tommy's. The Takis are for Joel who's in the truck. And at the checkout counter, Tommy grabs a pack of xtreme dick pills. He's holding the packet and you can see something cooking behind his eyes. He invites you to join them for dinner. You aren't dressed for it, not at all. . . but don't worry, it's just a seedy little strip mall place, next to a massage parlor. . .

leopard print (orig.)