#PLEASE READ HER OLD STUFF
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perhaps itâs because superman writers read a lot of pre crisis to better understand clark and they end up finding out more about kara as well? either way, i need every writer who writes supergirl to read at least half of her bronze age stuff.
#supergirl#kara zor el#IM SERIOUS#pkj waid and williamson all have written a far better supergirl than tamaki#PLEASE READ HER OLD STUFF#or at the very least at least read woman of tomorrow
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you always land on all fours
#umineko#umineko spoilers#ikuko hachijo#ikukos turn for a more serious piece... the old man has reigned for too long#now. INCREDIBLY LONG INCOHERENT TAGS RANT INCOMING FAIR WARNING HAS BEEN GIVEN:#it makes me so so sad how little discussion there is about specifically ikuko because imho she fits so neatly into a lot of the more#overarching Big Themes of the game in a way that i have not ever really seen people take notice of or point out in a meaningful way#like even just off of the top of my head. the significance of names and what it means to go by a name that's Not Yours (she has like 4+)#what it Means to be a witch how it represents a person's deepest insecurities and flaws & how its at its core a coping mechanism#the fact that it takes two to create a universe and trying to do it on your own anyways has the capacity to bring you intense misery#^ (how she's shown to be extremely dismissive of her own work and skill until a collaborator comes into her life and helps/encourages her)#and even the family/patriarchy/misogyny stuff that is so prevalent in the rest of the game comes back around to her. even her Only Friend#(young&stupid atp to be fair) remarks that shes Weird for being unmarried + the little she does say about her past invites the question of#to what extent her self-image stems from her family deeming her a freak outcast & effectively disowning her while celebrating her brothers#and i have lot in my mind about the witch thing specifically because i think her particular situation is very reflective of what umineko's#entire magic system and fantasy facet as a whole is meant to represent for an individual. from what little we see of (what is presumably)#her Real personality she is shown to be deeply self conscious in a way that is JARRINGLY diametrically opposed to both 1.) what we see in#featherine and 2.) what we see when she is acting as a Public Figure. because both of the above are very much purposeful acts that she is#putting on in order to obfuscate her true self. and i have always been very resolute & adamant about not totally equating her to featherine#not only because im very firmly in the camp of âfeatherine is the avatar of the Pen Name & tohya is part of her tooâ but also very much b/c#i feel very strongly that the stark differences between the two are very centrally relevant to her character & her psyche. as is the case#with most other witches featherine's personality traits serve to reveal/magnify a lot of ikukos inner workings by playing on her#insecurities/reversing them e.g. ikuko being very quick to downplay her skill/achievements becomes featherine being the COMPLETE opposite#to the point where she barely registers even other witches as living beings rather than just fun touys. BUT even though i do champion the#ikuko/featherine separation so hard i ALSO think it is purposefully relevant that at first glance the line between them seems so blurry#her introduction implying a more nebulous separation between her reality/fantasy counterpart is i think is an intentional move on her part#like it is part of the front she is putting up when acting as the Author. as opposed to Ikuko the person who we (in a way ironically very#similar to the way that the Real Battler is presumably only shown during the boatscene) only very briefly get to see take up screentime#which even on a meta level lines up very well with her apparent underlying nature as a like. extremely private largely reserved/shy person#hit tag limit but if by some miracle anyone is still reading this thank you... please see ikuko with the love she deserves... ok ily byeee
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waiting for marvel to take you up as their comic artist so that we can have amazing art with cherik official storyline
marvel hire me to draw professor x and magneto making out sloppy style for forty issues straight you will get a BAJILLION dollars i promise
#fave#snap chats#'professor x' what are you a cop. moving on#vjeLKVJEALKV thank you much my friend one can only dream .....#you know whats so funny tho this just reminds me how like. My Number One Cheerleader was my highschool english teacher#she also ran the comic club in case thats relevant. because i was a part of that club OBVIOUSLY#i used to want to be a comic book artist but now i dont but anyway as a part of this club we'd have to draw comics sometimes#and alllll the time my teach would be so happy to get my stuff and she'd always be like#'[Snap] please promise me you'll never give up comics i want to read a comic from you one day' and stuff like that#i think id throw up laughing if i got to email her one day like 'omg hey teach 1.) im not a moody teenager anymore#2.) i got to work for marvel check it out <3' and i have to send her old man yaoi JLVKEJLKAEVJE#FUNNIEST TIMELINE IN THE WORLD I'D ACTUALLY DIE LIKE PLEAAAASSEE THATS ALL I COULD EVER WANT IN LIFE#on the realest note tho i didnt appreciate her enthusiasm enough. i wish i could tell her thank you someday#i think of her a lot whenever im in the dumps about my work she really is one of my biggest motivators#like i guess i COULD just shoot an email. maybe if i actually do something cool with comics or something#i dont even know if she remembers me so it'd just be bizarre wouldnt it#ANYWAYS. sappy story time's over theres a matcha crepe cake with my name on it BYYYYYEEEEE
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"Possessive lover ML" recs keep letting me down
At no point should the words "If you don't want this, I'll leave you alone" leave his mouth.
#tw yandere#SORRY.#just read a book where he literally says that and I'm like -- she's your soulmate and you're a 200 year old vampire demon can you PLEASE#just grab her and run away#I'm unhinged as a romance reader#on the brink of Fine I'll Do It Myself#the problem is I don't want to read mafia/billionaire romances and a lot of paranormal stuff isn't to my taste#I love a damsel in distress; don't at me
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Hi GT,
Forgive me if this is a stupid question, but I absolutely love the recs you've given (you've introduced me to tomione, and I love it!) and I was wondering if it's possible to give you some recs in return? There are some books and fics that definitely have dramione / got vibes, and I was wondering if I could share them with you!
So glad you've enjoyed them! Feel free to rec me anything you want. I've read most of the classic recs in terms of fic and adjacent content (Cruel Prince et al), but I'll try anything that's well-written. My tastes run towards weird and/or audaciously creative stuff, and I can forgive a lot of weaknesses in plot on the grounds of (1) ambition or (2) character work. My turnoffs are instalove, protagonists who can't fail, and most Y/A (I'm not a hater, I swear, I just need characters who can say "fuck" when their leg gets chopped off.)
I'm also a fan of weird and fucked-up dynamics.(Wuthering Heights was my favorite book for a while, and as a teenager I wrote an AU in which the book ends on a long sex scene where Heathcliff fucks Cathy's ghost and then immediately gets murdered by Catherine 2.) Obviously, I am very normal.
#greenteacup asks#my beef with Y/A is mostly expressed in a dissonance between tone and content#LOVE the content. dystopia fantasy horror sex and blood â awesome. but question. why are they all saying 'darn'?#like in the vampire diaries where they'll watch people get eaten and then 2 episodes later be like 'omg SCHOOL DANCE'#(EDIT: actually in fairness. on the vampire diaries. it was mostly just caroline that did that. unfair example my apologies)#& i distinguish this critique from a common bitch-and-moan complaint about tv shows being interested in 'girly' things#like relationships and social standing. that is not my complaint. that shit is delicious. i will chomp that shit for days#my issue is that when the stakes oscillate wildly from episode to episode and i can't tell what the main thing is#like sorry. a story with murder in it is always going to be about murder. you can't make it not about murder#unfortunately! many have tried.#and in general i have difficulty reading about teenagers bcâ#(she says having written 600k words about them OKAY I KNOW. i contain multitudes.)#because they're either mini-adults (preferred flavor. jude in the cruel prince nails this) or like leetol babies to me#and unless it's something like the hunger games where the Leetol Baby thing is part of the story#i'm like. hang on. you're 12 what are you doing here#percy jackson was hard for me to re-read as an adult for this reason#which is why they're enjoyable for teenagers! because as a teenager you DO feel like an adult#and you like reading books that treat you like one! nothing wrong with that! healthy even!#only then you get past the teenage years (mashallah) and you get stuff like twilight#where of COURSE bella doesn't think twice about 117 year old man falling in love with her#because he looks like a rich mysterious 17-year-old hottie#but you reread it later and it's like um well. that. could be explored a little more maybe.#i'm not even necessarily opposed to it. candidly. still team edward. i just think the dynamic should be more fucked up and juicy.#which Y/A authors are often reluctant to do. like. COWARDS! face the nasty consequences of your narrative decisions!#anyhow. you didn't ask for any of this. please give me your recs lovely person you seem very nice.
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Something I love about ATLA is that it doesn't force the "forgive the villain" on all the characters. It's been left clear that Ozai is a bad person, and there's no chance of redemption; the only reason he's not dead yet is because Aang is a pacifist
The one episode where a character is supposed to forgive someone who has hurt them in the past is the one where Katara is off to kill a man (which, fair) and Zuko helps. In that episode, even if Aang is telling her to let go, she doesn't forgive him. She never will. But she spares him. Not because she thinks he doesn't deserve death (he does), but because she's not willing to continue the cycle of violence
Killing someone can have a very important impact in your entire being, mostly depending on who you are as a person. Aang would've never recovered from killing Ozai. Katara wouldn't be who she is now, had she taken her revenge on the man that killed her mother
And the best part of it is that Ozai doesn't deserve to die. Not in a "I'm defending him" way (ew), but in a "he deserves worse that than" way
Taking away his bending was the perfect punishment for him. He believed bending made you superior and he never cared enough to train something besides his bending. What a loser. Zuko and Azula wouldn't be restrained by something like that
He's alive. Nobody has forgiven him. Nobody ever will
#on a âozai deserves smth worse than deathâ mood#which is. my everyday mood but we're not talking about that#read a fic where ppl were mad ozai was still alive#zuko clarified that he's still alive not only bc that's what aang wanted but bc death would be a mercy for him#that's the man who ruined everybody's life(s). you can't tell me we can just let him die like that#and they're not even torturing him. he's just in prison#but he's so fucking weak that not having his bending = torture#pathetic#honestly what did he even do? his entire family was better than him#zuko was better at any kind of fighting and he learned firebending from the fucking dragons#azula is. azula! she bends blue fire and is the best at lighting n stuff#iroh created a whole new bending technique and broke out of prison w no bending#ursa killed the fucking fire lord#i mean sure ozai can shoot lighting out of his hands. but so can iroh! so can azula!#his 14 year old daughter is better than him#she could kick his ass if she wanted#but that's her dad right there and the obssession she has w pleasing him is straight up unhealthy#man. poor azula#anyways back to the point: ozai is pathetic#loserlord indeed#atla#avatar the last airbender#fire lord ozai#zuko#aang#katara#azula#uncle iroh#avis' post#avis talks
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show tempe gang crossover with the morris islanders would actually have been the best episode of bones ever. btw
#please ignore the rest of the tags i will just be making things up#okay they start out in carolina but at least half the episode takes place in dc. do not ask me how travel logistics would work#tory spends the entire episode off with tempe doing bone stuff. booth feels upstaged by a 16-year-old girl#so he goes and hangs out with ben who does NOT trust him right off the bat#ben ends up having to run him over to liri at some point because there's crime afoot and tom is busy. they spend most of the ride in silenc#ofc they end up bonding Eventually because they are both obsessed with crazy emotionally stunted redheads named t brennan#tory is more effective than any of the squinterns and manages to piss hodgins off so bad just by existing#coop hangs out in the lab as saroyan tries to kick him out thirty times. he just keeps showing up and she can't prove who's letting him in#(it's tempe.) angela loves tory but tory does not love angela back. saroyan tolerates her. sweets likes her but knows she's hiding somethin#comes to the conclusion that she can read her friends minds and slowly drives himself crazy because obviously that can't be true#tory brings hi along whenever she needs someone with people skills and he is MORE than happy to participate in a hodgins experiment#hi gets to be king of the lab for about ten minutes. shelton hits it off with angela immediately and they solve half the case together#booth fucking HATES hi because he's evasive and really good at the manipulation thing. booth can't win verbal sparring and he gets Big Mad#at one point the four of them are in an interrogation room together (MISTAKE) because tory had them meddling a little too close to the sun#and booth is trying so hard to question them which didn't work even when they COULDN'T read each other's minds#tory figures out who did it and hi steals her thunder a la shrek wasnt vandalized he gave birth#temperance tells tory 'i know you've got a secret sweets told me and even though i don't trust psychology i find he's insightful' etc etc#tory's like well i might be but i can't tell you it's not just my secret and you wouldn't believe me anyway#because let's be real tempe WOULDNT believe her#meanwhile saroyan convinced by sweets paranoia managed to get a sample of tory's blood and test it and is like HEY WHAT THE FUCK#gets hodgins and they just stare at the results together and delve into conspiracy theories. he's like i KNEW there were werewolves#they debate telling tempe but know it wouldnt end well for the kids and decide to get rid of the evidence. but hodgins is SO smug#also angela spends the whole episode trying to convince everyone hi and shelton are dating and no one believes her#they finally see them kiss or something and they're all somehow floored and angela's just like yeah? duh?#if anyone read this i'm sorry and why
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kay so im currently reading good girl, bad blood in anticipation of the AGGGTM tv show coming out soon and i Have tm to share my findings...
(mild spoilers under the cut but they aren't even really spoilers but oh well)
im just going to rewrite the quote because it actually had me howling with laughter at a dead tree.
(in chapter 9)
[Ravi has handed Pip a Coco pops cereal bar]. "Eat that please, madam. Now."
Pip shot him a look of surrender and unpeeled the crackling wrapper.
"Breakfast of kings, that is," said Ravi, "Nice and softened by my arse-heat."
I love this book so fucking much! I haven't laughed at a book this hard possibly ever
#bookblr#bookish#bookworm#agggtm#ggbb#GGBB spoilers#a good girls guide to murder#good girl bad blood#genuinely cant imagine reading the us versions#as far as i can tell they are just worse in every conceivable way#like im pretty sure they get rid of all of the pipisms in the us version#a Crime because pip is hilarious and i love her#emma meyer i have faith in you please dont let me down#also hello and welcome to my longest post so far i think#at least in terms of tags#hopefully anyone avoiding spoilers has therefore avoided spoilers#ive done all i can i swear#i think anyway - i used to exclusively reblog stuff on my old acc#if you got this far... why?#i love you though ty ty
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never beating the daddy issues allegations
#playing the quarry for the first time (no spoilersss please) and i want to fuck that 56 year old sheriff SO bad its actually concerning#i also just like ted raimi so theres tht but im like oof no wait... this whole scenario is making me really hot rn this is insane-#like (close ur eyes so u dont read this tmi tyty) but have you ever been so turned on that it surprises even you? 'i do NOT know her'?#even at my senior age im learning some stuff about myself at least every quarter lmao#anywayyyyyy
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"You know what I did last night after you left us and went away just because you were oh, so in love with Rowan! Oh, so very in love with La Doctor Dolorosa. Well, guess what! I read your books, your maudlin mawkish melancholy Vampire Chronicles, and I can see why your fledglings despise you! You treated Claudia like a doll just 'cause she had the body of a child! And what was that all about, making a child a vampire in the first place?-" "Stop it, how dare you!" "And your own mother, you give her the Dark Gift, and then you try to stop her from cutting her long hair or wearing men's clothes, and this in the eighteenth century, when women have to go around looking like wedding cakes, you're an autocratic monster!" "You insult me, you abuse me! If you don't stop-." "And I know why you're so fired up over Rowan, she's the first adult female other than your own mother who's ever caught your attention for more than five minutes, and Hello! Lestat Discovers The Opposite Sex! Yeah, females do come in grown-up sizes! And I happen to be one of them, and this is not the Garden of Eden, and I am not taking off this dress!"
this book has so many flaws but please don't doubt that it's funny. lestat faces the perils of writing down and publishing every three a.m. thought that ever entered his head for a broad audience that includes his future acquaintances.
#i cannot recommend reading this like i do very much get why everyone says you can skip it even the hardcore book onlies#but in addition to the stuff that's funny there's also the stuff that's good AND funny#for example: What if some ruthless enterprising individual did a catalog of all the furniture you have personally described in your Vampire#Chronicals#then what#I'll tell you what#that would put you to shame#you avaricious#shameless#hoarding#ever-hungry Seven Deadly Sin Committing fiend#what did Louis once say to you#that you made a junk shop of eternity? Move it!#like WHO went forth and did this exact thing only for Anne Rice to not only notice but put it in her book#and call you Louis coded??#please step forward so i can applaud even odds you're on tumblr#I will grant Mona this she does actually talk like an 20 year old woman who spent the last two years dying slowly#and then died all at once! and came back because someone wanted to play house#press reads iwtv
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and to extrapolate on the tags i just left. thats the beauty of a relationship. jake is super into cars and bikes and i didnt know (and really still dont much know) jack shit about them before i met him. but he likes them! and he will explain in laymans terms what the deal is with them. so ive become casually interested too and i enjoy going to car and motorcycle events now because i have offered curiosity and he has met it with teaching and he continues to do so. when we are at a car event i always ask a billion questions and he does his best to answer them. and he didnt know anything about japanese myths or religion before meeting me but when i bring it up he asks me questions so i explain the stories. and when we stop at shrines i point out imagery and extrapolate on prolific gods and re-explain (generally accepted, it sort of depends who you ask) shrine ettiquette to him and he enjoys going to shrines and temples and will point out where they are along the way of wherever we're going for the day. you have to try to care about your partner's interests and when they show curiosity about yours you have to actually patiently explain it. which sounds so basic but people still get this shit wrong
#my supervisor's husband like. cannot seem to pick up on the fact that despite him not caring abt bdays and anniversaries and holidays#she does. idk how he has not noticed that if he just got her flowers and a card where he drew a picture of them holding hands under the gene#ric sentiment she would be very pleased and even moreso if he did more than that for her. and i cant imagine not wanting to please her becau#se she's such a nice funny pretty lady. she also has a sort of. special interest maybe? in puppets and puppet making#and i wonder if he's asked her about it or lets her talk about it. she knows all about his massive music collection and what he likes to#collect and has a discogs account just for getting him stuff that can be a surprise#similarly when i was dating jiwon i would try to ask him about. anything really. koream culture the old chinese literature he read metal#music veterinary stuff. and he would just sort of be like ummmmmmmmm its pretty hard to explain or explain it sort of smugly using big words#or in korean and i'd be like well okay.....and he would listen to me talk about knitting and just smile and nod and not really pay attention#ao youd THINK!! THAT THIS IS RELATIONSHIPS 101#but not everybody gets this right somehow. its crazy how fun it is to be in a genuinely awesome romantic relationship tho#like damn we're best friends AND you like the same weird sex i like. thats awesomesauce đ#t
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At this point I'm known in the family for knowing things and arguing which youd think would work in my favour when it comes to talking about lifestyle choices but this fails to consider that I am also a loony leftist who sometimes contradicts popular knowledge
#i need to pull out 'i read it in a book' again i need to do that more often#used to do it all the time and was seen as Knowledgeable 8 Year Old#but now im on my phone n stuff so its all Internet Bullshit#ok summer projects: get family to give pets a proper diet that isnt 50% deli ham#shove resources on native flora and how lawns suck down mams throat to hopefully inch her towards more natural shit#(bcos shes a gardener but the 'lawn with One corner of bluebells' type)#and also information on the toxicity of differnt flora to pets so she will please for the love of god stop bringing home lilies
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im becoming a emu blog again
#stardust speaking !#AAUUGHHHHHHH DREAMS DO COME TRUE#i nvr wouldve thought theyd put dog ears in a banner what am i looking at. hoping akitos hair still looks cute in his 3d model#im not worried about honamis shes 100% cute in the 3d!!!!!!!!!!!! theres no way that hair isnt cute!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#im fine with not lucksacking Anything this yr if it means i can lucksack this banner amen#emu.................oh im so happy.....theres 1 other hairstyle i rly want her to get but this is so cute im gonna collapse i love when the#keep her hair short-looking#emu fan finally gets to pull for her on a 6% banner again#also seeing this banner...how old is honamis lil bro. like saki & tsukasa and akito & ena are close in age#but emu is not close in age to her big siblings#but i cant rmbr how far apart honami & her lil bro is ?!?!?!?#is this event rly gonna be akito with dogs help. overcome ur fears and all that#maybe ill update my header when the banner releases.....ough.............i lov proseka cards sm#btw vbs new song is so damn good. also excited for inabakumori niigo and scop leoneed#also i was thinking how funny itd be if they added dandan hayaku naru I DIDNT THINK THEY ACTUALLY WOUUUULLLDDDDDD#can we add more nanou songs next please please please please please please please#anyway i. need to read events again. at the very least wxs main events -> emu events -> then back to reading stuff in order#actually i might be lying i dont rmbr how old emus big sis is. it might not be That big when i think about it. but it sure aint 1-2yrs
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Sweet sweet sweet children I am sorry I am so sorry you know things you shouldn't and there's no going back I wish we had done better
#this literal middle schooler buying ana huang with her mum like please please how can we save the children đđ#13 year olds going batshit crazy about hard kinks#what happened to reading enid blyton or geronimo or idk what#this makes me sooooo sad#my sis herself has read stuff thats just genuinely not at all teen friendly and i don't even know what to say to her because she confides in#me and she thinks im cool with her reading literal smut but tbh im shitting bricks and high key so fkn sad about innocence completely lost#p
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my autistic ass avoided watching the x-files because i knew it would consume me....
& now here i am fully consumed even though I've only watched the first few handful of episodes of s1 (i'm regaining spoons needed for media consumption), but let me tell you w h a t!!!!!!!!!!!!! i was so excited i started crying because it combines unbridled pining, a skeptic & her believer husband partner, true crime, weird mythology, aliens (which i already knew abt obvi), unlikely besties who are prepared to square up at all times (re; scully being cold towards the agents mocking mulder & mulder being ready to fight g o d whenever anything happens to scully).
i just love the show a lot & i expected this but goddamn!!!!!! it's wormed into my spin category & now my alien spin is returning along with my 'unexplained happenings spin!!!!! i'm being consumed i tell you!!!!
#i'm excited to watch the movies as well!!!#i'm a little nervous for s10 & s11 due to the time jump etc etc#so i may not watch those--but i intend on watching 1-9 & the films#tho i'll probably watch s1 - 5 & the watch the first movie. watch s6-9 & watch the last movie#i knew i would be consumed by the autistic coded FBI agents & their ufo sightings but DAMN YALL-----i started going bonkers#on dya fuckin' one & now they're all i can think about#maybe this is to fix the void i have due to w*tcher being a mess (I'm season 3 is good--i ma just petrified dfghkjldfh)#if this end sup in tags no it doesn't <3 but also if it does---don't follow me due to this post#i post a mishmash of stuff!#<- putting this there bc it just feels right to do so <3#the reminders im getting of like--the fucked up alien shit i know & ALSO 2 OF MY FAVORITE ALIEN CENTRIC MOVIES-#(those being close encounters of the third kind & starman)#i've gotta rewatch those now & c r y because those movies remind me of watching them in my grandmother's livingroom while my mom played-#-games on her pc. they also remind me of the summer nights i'd watch them back to back for days on end#god--for a 25 year old i talk like someone who gre wup in the 80s when i--alas did not---i grew up in the 200s but my parents#showed me a lot of 80s & 90s media so i feel more at home with those films & early 2000s films then i do most things from the 2010s#i'm talking a lot in tags--if you read all this--i'm so sorry. i don't know the art of shutting the fuck up#anyways; once again--if i end up in tags no i don't & don't follow me solely due to this post because i post a lot of stuff that's unrelate#to this (also please be above 18 if you're gonna follow me <3)#ripley rambles#ripley's audhd/disability posting
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Too Close for Comfort

Pairing: Joel Miller x Babysitter!Reader
Summary: Youâve been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, youâre surfing the web on her dadâs computer, and you find someâŠunusual things in his search history.
Or, Joel likes to jerk off to your lookalike on PornHub. Itâs time you showed him what the real thing is like.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Creampie. Mommy/Daddy Roleplay (HEAR ME OUT!!) Brief boot humping. Squirting. Perv!Joel. Breeding kink.
Note: âJust call me if anyone else checks inâŠand by anyone, I mean any swingin dickâ is a line from No Country for Old Men
Word count: 12.7k
Purple slime had been Sarahâs idea.
It was an innocent thing, really. The four-year-old had practically been bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes wide and shining with excitement when sheâd beggedââCan we pleeeeease?!ââand who were you to tell her no?
Youâd only be breaking one small rule of Joelâs, after all. One silly little admonition heâd made before leaving for work the first day youâd started babysitting for him. That had been over a year ago, and he hadnât even sounded that serious when heâd said it. He probably wouldnât mind if you bent the rule this one time at Sarahâs behest.
âDonât go in the computer room, please.â
Donât use Joelâs desktop. Donât rifle through any of the drawers in Joelâs officeâit was a mess, but everything was in its place, according to him. Just donât go in there.
But in exchange for Sarah agreeing to take her nap that day without protest, youâd promised to order her slime.
Purple, gooey, glittery, sticky stuff for her new collection.
You werenât sure when the fuck putty had become the plaything of choice for kids in Pre-K, but you hadnât been in a place to judge; whatever Sarah wanted to do, so long as it was safe for her to play with, was totally fine by you.
It was just one rule.
Surely if Mr. Miller knew how badly his daughter wanted the slime, heâd be fine with you booting up his computer once. That was what you kept telling yourself, anyway.
What kept humming through your mind as the desktop came to life and you toggled straight for Google Chrome.
Be quick, be quiet, itâs fine. Itâs fine.
Purple gooâit was safe. Innocent. Completely justifiable.
What could the sweet, old, forty-something and forever polite Joel Miller possibly have to hide on this machine that made it wrong for you to buy this one simple toy?
You reached for the keyboard and inhaled a quick breath.
Then you typed one letter, and your heart nearly seized.
PâŠ
âŠornhub.com
It was the very first thing that appeared in the search bar.
You couldnât unsee it. Instinctively, your hand clamped over your mouth, and your eyes widened. You couldnât help but read the four URLs that immediately dropped down below the first; they were just so garishly inviting.
Hot, Naughty Babysitter gets POUNDED by her Boss!
Slutty Babysitter Gets Railed from Behind and Loves It
Big Dick Boss Gives Babysitter a Passionate Raw Fuck
âIâve Never Done This!â Babysitter Deepthroats Cock
âOhâŠmy gosh,â you said, words muffled by your palm.
You couldnât believe what you were seeing. It was just too bizarre, too far out of character, too unlike your boss.
The man had scarcely said ten words to you altogether that didnât relate to your job in some way or another. He rarely ever engaged in casual confab, and he certainly wasnât the type to flirt, or make you uncomfortable in the slightest. Frankly, in all the time youâd been babysitting, you always thought you were justâŠinvisible to Joel Miller.
Not this. Never this.
You were still staring at the screen when you realized that youâd missed one URL title from the list. It was long.
It was the most unnerving one of all, you came to see.
Babysitter Lounging Poolside in Hot Red Bikini Gets a BIG SurpriseâHer Old Boss Teaches Her How to FUCK
Your hand lowered from your face. It trembled, contemplating, before coming to rest atop the mouse.
Something about this seemed familiar. StrangelyâŠoff.
You couldnât explain it, but your head and your heart and your hand gravitated to that one odd link in particular. You hadnât even meant to move the mouse. Or press it with your finger. But there you went, following your instincts like some dumb, brainless ditz, and then the screen was changing. Going dark with the shift to an adult site before brightening anew with the thumbnail.
It was paused on one frame. Your jaw slackened.
The girl staring back from the scene was you.
Or looked exactly, uncannily like you anyway.
It was then that you noticed what she was wearing, tooâwhat you guessed wouldnât be on her body for longâand you glanced down to your own shoulder. Just like your on-screen doppelgĂ€nger, you were wearing the same bikini in a bright, cherry-red hue beneath your tank top.
You wore it under your clothes damn near every day, indulging in the Millersâ backyard pool more often than not, and even being allowed to swim there on the days Sarah had summer campâJoel had been so obliging.
So accommodating and sweet.
You never thought heâd be seeking your fucking twin online on a porn site after watching you traipse around his property wearing it. Your gut clenched; you clicked.
âHey, sweetheart! Everything go OK?â
The voice that rumbled through the speakers was low. Male. Vaguely paternal and with a hint of a Southern lilt.
You swallowed, knowing exactly where this was going.
You werenât sure why you were even watching when you could already predict what would become of it. The camera panned over a body identical to yours; it landed on a face that was smiling and sweet and so like your own you almost had to question whether it might not be you after all. Had you somehow forgotten this secret porn alter ego in a bout of amnesia? You kept watching.
The girl bit her bottom lip and let out the phoniest giggle.
âYes, sir. Perfectly fine. Do you like my new bikini?â
Be so fucking serious, you thought, critically.
Then you remembered it was porn, not an Oscar-winning film. You saw the camera tilt down to her tits, and you had to admit, she had a great rack. A bit nicer than yours.
For a beat, you wondered if Joel had thought the same.
You had to batter those thoughts away, because the next second brought a big, burly hand onto the screen. It reached for the girl with her perfect, perky breasts and it kneaded them softly. No further pretense or prelude was neededâthey just jumped right in and let it happen, like this was a normal thing for a babysitter and a boss to do.
Maybe in some other universe it was. In a world where a girl your age could just smile, and bat her eyes, and let them roll back gently as a whimper crossed her lips and she begged him, âMore, daddy, more!â this was all okay.
The man squeezed the flesh harder. She whined, and he proceeded to push the red nylon aside and expose the whole expanse of her breastâand holy shit, even the nipple looked like yours. Your mouth opened wider, and for a moment, it was like you couldnât breathe as you watched that old, sun-kissed hand fondle the breast of a girl who looked just like you. Who was peering up at a man who sounded almost like Joel, murmuring, âAttagirl.â
Youâd heard your boss say that once.
It had been such a silly, off-handed thing that you doubted he even remembered saying it. But one time, youâd struggled to open the passenger door to his truck before he drove you home. Once youâd narrowly managed to pry it open and slide into your seat, heâd laughed and rumbled: âAttagirl.â Your face had warmed.
Just like your cheeks were doing now, all hot and bothered and desperate to hear more. Presently, the man slid the top off of the girlâs chest, and her breasts hung freely. You could hear him groan behind the camera at the sight, and not too long after that, before he could reach to touch her tits again, she was crawling on her knees toward him. Shuffling easily and expertly across the lawn chair and undoing the belt, button, and zip of his pants in a matter of seconds. A hand smoothed over her head, and you could see her preen beneath his touch.
Before sheâd even wrapped her lips around his cock, your stomach was churning. Your fingers were stirring from the mouse and moving gentlyâagain, of their own volition, it seemedâtoward the waistband of your own bottoms. It was sick, admittedly. So wrong to be wanting to touch yourself to the very same video your boss had indulged in himself, in the very same chair he had done the deed. But you couldnât help it. Your fingers slipped under the the fabric of your shorts, then your bikini, then your throat let out the tiniest noise upon seeing a cock appear on-screen. It was abnormally large, of course.
Silently, you wondered if Joelâs might not look the same. Your stomach flipped as soon as the girl took it in her mouth, and your index and middle fingers landed on your clit. You barely needed to touch to feel a jolt of pleasure.
Her head bobbed up and down. You felt powerless to do anything else but rub. And circle. And moan the slightest bit when you saw her coat his length with her shiny spit.
You heard that your noises mirrored hers. You didnât care. Really, it felt as though you were in a trance, and you couldnât stop watching, or touching, until youâd had your fill. Like Mr. Miller had done himself. It was all too much.
Before you even realized it, five minutes had passed, the man and woman on-screen were shifting from oral to raw, penetrative sex, and you were nearing your peak. Right before the cock that had been lodged down the girlâs throat could slide into her wet, glistening cunt, you felt your stomach lurch. You rubbed harder, watching the fat and leaking tip of the manâs cock tease through her folds, and just as he was about to slide in and you could finally find your releaseâŠa door banged open downstairs.
You almost screamed.
As quickly as you could, you yanked your hand out of your pants and clicked out of that browser even faster. The second you heard footfalls on the steps, you scampered out of there. Half-sprinting, half-tip-toeing down the hall and toward the bathroom, before halting at the door. You made your presence known with one light stomp of your foot, pretending to be turning and walking out, and as soon as you did, Joel was right there. Staring.
Sweating.
Scrubbing at his face with one weary hand, before taking a rag and wiping it through his beard. He sighed heavily.
âLong day?â you chirped while trying to mask the panic.
âLike you wouldnât believe,â Joel answered, voice wan, âHowâs my little terror? Asleep? She give ya any trouble?â
Just asked me to buy her a toy online and inadvertently led me to find your internet Spank Bank archives full of women who look like me. Other than that, it was fine.
âI put her down about an hour ago. She was great.â
You forced a smile, and Joel seemed to believe it.
âPerfect. Need me to give you a ride home?â
âNo, no, you should stay here with Sarââ
ââSâalright. Tommyâs right downstairs.â
Of course heâd brought him home.
âNo, really, I can walk. Itâs fineââ
âDonât be silly. Câmon, kiddo.â
Kiddo.
Kiddo.
The man had been jerking off to the thought of you for who knows how long, and now he called you âkiddoâ?
You hated how arousing the nickname sounded from him
You despised yourself for rubbing your clit in his office.
Most of all, you loathed the way your panties had gotten wet the last time youâd climbed into his truck and heard that word crawl off of his old, drawling tongue: âAttagirl.â
Reluctantly, you nodded your head. You followed him downstairs and hoped the car door wouldnât stick again.
He had to stop.
It was no longer a matter of âifâ but âwhenâ his dick would lead him straight off a cliff, and today, Joel was starting to think that precipice was looking extra nice. Tempting.
Almost as inviting as the divot he could see at the small of your back, glimmering with a couple hot beads of sweat under the midafternoon sun. He swallowed.
Sarah was at camp today. Youâd had the time to yourself, and the weather was blistering hot, and of course, where else would you be but his backyard? Heâd told you ad nauseum, ever since you started babysitting his kid, that his pool was open to you whenever you so chose to go.
Presently, Joel wished he could revoke that invitation.
Seeing how you were flipped on your stomach, body all soft and warm and splayed out on one of his deck chairsâwearing that fucking red swimsuit, of all thingsâJoel was left to ogle from his office window, and inside, he felt like a certified pervert. Arguably, he was. His old, worn hands had all but glided to find his mouse as soon as heâd sat down at his desk and saw you out there, and no sooner had his cursor found Chrome than his cock started to stir. Heâd wanted to watch. If not you in all your bare, sun-baked glory, then surely the woman he could see getting her throat and cunt stuffed on his screen.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Was he really that much of a gooner he couldnât let his kidâs babysitter lounge outside without stroking his dick?
Shit. He had the bottle of lotion in one hand and the box of tissues in the other in no time at all. He ripped three free Kleenex aside and reached for his mouse once more.
He was pissed at himself. He toggled over to the Hub with a grunt, and in no time at all, had you pulled up.
Joel liked to pretend it was you, anyway.
If he couldnât have the sweet young thing every swinging dick in this town wouldâve killed to have himself, he could rub one out to a girl exactly like you. He could fantasize.
He could skip the video to 8:53 on the dot, as he always did, and he could rub himself raw. It wouldnât take long.
He always fast-forwarded to that exact part, without fail, because she moaned like you then. Heâd never forget it.
It had almost been six months since it happened, and he still remembered that sound as clear as day. Youâd been hauling your backpack off the couch in the living room, having stuffed the thing full with more school supplies than you could feasibly carry, and Joel had been in the kitchen, unseen. Youâd lifted the bag with effort, and once you had, you let out a soft but audible whine. You dropped the bag back down to your feet, and when you bent to try again, youâd moaned fully. It was like the stretch had made you feel good, or something. Youâd huffed and managed to get the weight slung over your back with modest success, then left, but Joel had been changed. Too quickly had he retreated to his office and swore to find any clip where a moan sounded like that.
âPlease! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eamâoh, OH!â
Granted, the dialogue was cheesy, but the sound after it was identical to the one youâd made. Joel repeated it.
He hadnât even noticed, but heâd already lathered his hand and cock with lotion. He was scrubbing vigorously while your twin wiggled her hips and begged her co-star to put it in, to quit teasing her pussy like that, canât you see Iâm practically dripping for you, daddy? Look at it!
Unfortunately, Joelâs head was turned the other directionâaway from the screen, and toward the windowâwatching you where you sat out on the lawn.
He stroked harder. He groaned.
You had just turned onto your back. Your tits looked incredible. Joel reckoned theyâd look even better with his dick pushed up between them, and at the thought, his mouth watered. His lips were slightly parted, and he feared he might drool. What a sight he must have been then: jaw slack, lids heavy, cock in hand, and moan after moan bubbling out of his throat. He got closer to climax.
âGonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.â
It wasnât long after that that Joel heard the girl whine in pleasureâthe man behind her had notched in the first inch and told her to behaveâand meanwhile, he watched your chest rise and fall, rise and fall outside. It was calm. Unlike the girl being taught how to fuck poolside, you remained untouched. Spotless. Placid and serene while your hands picked up a magazine and began flipping through it. While Joelâs orgasm crested inside him, he wondered if youâd ever want to try something like that. Roleplay. Or would it be fake at all? Had you ever been touched by a man, shown the best ways to give and receive pleasure, or was it all brand new, like it was supposed to be for the woman on his screen? Joel panted, and he fucked his hand harder. He groaned.
âOh, daddy, itâs so big! Feels so good going inside me!â
âYou love gettinâ fucked by an older man, donât you?â
âYes, daddy, yes! Please donât stopâoh, OHHH!â
Joel wanted to be the only older man you had.
If he wasnât the first, he sure as fuck could be the last. Give you all the dizzying, euphoric feelings your body deserved and stretch you open gently for the taking.
He could teach you so much, ruin you for any othâ
Shit.
What the fuck was this asshole doing here?
At the back gate, he saw his neighbor Dieter.
The man strolled across the lawn, and Joelâs orgasm receded in a blink. He was walking right over to you.
No. No, no, no. Joel released his dick from its vice grip and felt the thing twitch in indignation. Meanwhile, the sound of skin on skin continued to flood his eardrums from out of the computer speakers, where the happy babysitter-boss duo was hitting a brutal pace. The girl let out one over-the-top shriek of pleasure, and Joel clicked pause. He toggled out of the browser. Then he redirected his gaze out the office window, where his own girl was being accosted by Dieter. His blood boiled with anger.
Who did this creep think he was? The man never so much as looked Joelâs way or approached his property unless it was to ask to be âlentâ some booze or else ask after some friend, relative, or coworker Dieter wanted to be introduced toâhe was perennially unemployed and a fuckboy bachelor to his core. The last Joel had heard, heâd spent the last year in Los Angeles, or Paris, or some other too-big city to chase his singing and acting dreams
And here he was now, hitting on his poor, defenseless babysitter. Joel wouldnât stand for that in any world.
Though his dick was still erect, it had softened some, too. His rage facilitated that, and him shoving his length back in his jeans, zipping it up, and all but punching the desktop off made it spongier still. He walked like he was mad at the floor beneath his boots. He wasnât sure why he was feeling so defensiveâhe had just been rubbing one out to the sight of you less than five minutes agoâbut now wasnât the time for thinking. He had to act.
Protect, if he had to.
What if his neighbor wanted to go for a swim, too?
Joel would drown the man with his two bare hands if he so much as reached for your bikini-clad form. He stalked loudly down the hall and searched for a less sweaty shirt to wear, then some deodorant, then a comb. He peered in the bathroom mirror and saw his black-and-grey locks all out of sorts, and for a second, he contemplated taking a shower. Youâd probably be able to smell his unsatisfied desire from outside. He looked, and felt, a bit unhinged.
Joel decided he didnât care, before plodding downstairs.
Outside, you lay in the same position heâd seen you last. Your hand was shielding your face. You were smiling.
And beside you, Dieter was grinning even bigger.
Joel made a beeline down the porch steps, then across the lawn, like his life mightâve depended on it. Scowling.
ââbut getting cast in Gladiator II wouldâve been wildââ
Of course Dieter was yapping about his failed acting career. Of course. Joel could hear him drone on as he approached, though he didnât register a word of what he said. Instead, he waved a hand. He feigned a calm tone:
âDieter! Howâs it going?â
And he slowed down, too.
Just as he drew in, his neighbor volleyed a look his way. Joel couldnât miss how his smile twitched down a little.
âJoel.â
Accepting a cordial hand in greeting.
âDoing alright, how âbout yourself?â
Joel nodded fine, just fine and offered some offhand remark about not having seen him since last summer, and Dieter couldnât resist the chance to puff up and mention a school heâd been attending. Joel didnât hear it, or give a shit. His gaze was already trained on you. Your own flitted from Dieter, to Joel, then to Dieter again, and your lips were smiling kindly enough. You seem humored.
âMr. Bravo just got back from Berlin,â you beamed.
Then Dieter met your look and shook his head.
âDieter, sweetie, Dieter. Or Dee, if you want.â
Joel almost wanted to vomit in his mouth.
âGermany, huh? What brings you here?â
No sense in beating around the bush.
Joel meant to ask why Dieter was here, in his backyard, with his babysitter, of course. Why the fuck he was eyeing you like that, like your tits were two Emmys and the only way to earn it himself was to stare as long, and as hard, as possible. Joel cleared his throat instinctively.
Dieter blinked and cast a glance back to him.
âOh, here. Yeah. I, umâŠI just wanted to see if you had thatâ thatââ He snapped his fingers, âThat leafblower.â
Leafblower?
He was so full of shit.
âMy leafblower,â Joel repeated.
It was fucking July, for crying out loud.
Evidently, his neighbor didnât seem to care. He met Joelâs gaze with an even look, and he nodded his head.
He doubled down: âYeah, the leafblower. Iâve had some debris pile up in my yard since Iâve been gone, yâknow.â
âAre you gonna be in Austin long? Or are you going back overseas once youâve had that casting call?â you asked.
You cocked your head with genuine curiosity. Joel grit his teeth, but he tried not to let his discontent show anyplace else on his face. A muscle mightâve jumped when he saw how smugly Dieter smirked at your intrigue.
âOh, Iâll be here long enough, donât you worry,â he said.
That was it.
Joel gestured to the shed in the back corner of the yard, about to tell Dieter that the leafblower was in there, go knock yourself out, when his neighbor cut in once again.
âIn the meantime, maybe Iâll have you babysit for me. I hate to steal Sarahâs pal, but maybe you can split your time between my place and Joelâs. What do you think?â
You blinked a little quicker, like you werenât quite sure what to say at first. Joel took the chance to interject.
âYou donât have any kids, Bravo,â he practically growled.
âI know. Iâve got cats, though,â Dieter just grinned back, flitting a cheeky look to you. âAnd you have no idea how naughty those pussycats can get while a manâs away.â
That was really all Joel could take. He didnât even let you answer; he just pointed to the shed and made a fist with his other hand at his side. His chest was heaving breaths.
âYou and her can chat when sheâs off the clock, how âbout that? Leafblowerâs in the shed. Doorâs unlocked.â
His words didnât invite protest of any kind. Dense as he was, Dieter probably sensed that heâd ticked his neighbor off with the suggestive comment to his babysitter, and he backed away, both literally and figuratively. He bid a quick, cavalier goodbye with a shit-eating grin stretching his lips, and then he went to the storage shed and left.
You were still blinking, still creasing your brows tight, by the time the back gate had slammed shut behind him. You watched after him, teeth gnawing at your cheek.
âHe seemed like a funny guââ
âWhat do you think youâre doinâ?â
Joelâs words appeared to sting like a slap in the face. You jerked your head back to him, seeming to say, âWhat?â
âYou know what. Donât play innocent now,â Joel griped.
You continued to stare, then started to shake your head.
âMr. Millerââ
âDonât Mr. Miller me, either,â he snapped, far shorter than heâd ever spoken to you before. His nostrils flared, âYouâre old enough to know better. You did all of that.â
âAll of what?â you shot back.
âAttracted men like Dieter into my yard.â
âHeâs your neighbor! What do you expect?â
Offense marred your tone. He didnât entirely blame you.
âNo, noâhe never sticks his nose over here unless he sees something he wants. You were flaunting yourself.â
At that, your mouth fell open.
âAre you fucking kidding me, Miller? Are you serious?â
âLanguage, young ladyââ
âI donât give a shit.â You stood up from your chair. Your eyes flashed with ire. Just like his hands had before, yours curled into fists. You stood your ground with him. âYou invited me to come swim here whenever I wanted to. You did that, asshole. What did you expect me to sunbathe in, army fatigues and fucking combat boots?â
Joel blinked hard at that. He didnât like being mocked.
âStill shouldnât be that damn skimpy. And I said langââ
âYeah, yeah. Thanks, dad. Donât act like youâre mine.â
Donât act like youâre mine.
Joelâs chest tightened. His gaze seared into yours, almost as though he were as angry as you were now, but deep down, the man only felt remorse. Resentment. Whatever rage he harbored now was reserved for himself
He shouldnât have gone there.
He shouldnât have masked his own jealousy with pseudo paternal scolding. He looked like a dickhead doing that.
And you werenât shy to let him know it in the slightest.
Presently, your finger was jabbed in his face. You were planted less than two feet from where he stood, and though you were noticeably dwarfed by his size, your next words had him beat by a foot, if heâd had to guess.
âI watch your kid, Joel. I am not your daughter. If you donât want me hanging around here in my hot red bikini, then you can just say that. But donât blame me for him.â
Joel bristled at your words, though he wasnât sure why. When he opened his mouth to speak again, you added:
âAnd donât blame me for that, either.â
Suddenly, he realized your finger was pointed at his legs.
Or, rather, what was poking up stiff between them.
Joelâs cheeks heated up to a thousand degrees.
Youâd just caught him. Youâd seen his arousal.
And you were turning on your heels again.
Before Joel could even try to summon the words to his tongue, you were grabbing your things. Shoving your shoes onto your feet. And Joel had only to stand there.
Feeling stupid and inert beside you.
As you went to the back gate, he somehow managed to call that you didnât have a car, let him drive you back.
You didnât even dignify his words with a verbal response.
You just raised your middle finger over your shoulder.
And then the gate crashed shut behind you.
You would be walking home that day.
Two big eyes and round cheeks were all you could see.
Then, they darted beneath the covers and were gone.
âOh no, whereâd sweet Sarah go?â you wondered aloud. Sitting at the edge of the bed and pretending not to see where sheâd just dipped her head under the blankets, you furrowed your brows and proceeded to pat around you.
Everywhere you felt with your hands, you completely ignored the big lump under the duvet. It was a game.
A silly one at thatâhide-and-go-seek was generally best left to places where you couldnât figure out her location in the blink of an eye. But you played along. You heard a soft giggle. You continued feeling around the twin-sized mattress like this was the most bewildering puzzle of all.
âWhe-ereâs Sarah?â you sing-songed.
You heard a shuffling of limbs, a sniffle.
Your palm tapped right by those little feet.
And as soon as you did, she screamed. At four years old, Sarah hadnât quite mastered the art of being stealthy.
Youâd cut her some slack. You always had.
Blindly passing where her body lay, you glided to the opposite side of her bed and tapped inquiringly there.
âIs sheâŠhere?â You got a pillow.
âNo!â Sarah shrieked back.
Such a helpful, obliging kid. Sheâd make a terrible spy.
âIs sheâŠup here?â You rapped the headboard twice.
âNo!!â she squealed.
You glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was approaching bedtime. Taking note of this, and knowing you couldnât keep up with the charade for much longer, you let out a sigh. You stood from the bed, looked around the room with dramatic Ă©clat, then started to walk away.
âOkayâŠI guess if Sarahâs not here Iâll have to leaveâŠâ
The second you said that, Sarah threw the covers back. She jumped up in bed, and she stomped her little feet.
âNo! No! Iâm here! Iâm here!â
You spun on your heels, eyes wide with faux surprise.
âSarah!â
And then you rushed back over, just in time to watch her drop to the bed and flash you a wide, exuberant smile.
âYour Sarah,â she corrected.
She adored it when you called her that. Your Sarah.
You nodded your head in agreement, âMy Sarah. Sorry.â
She nodded too, like sheâd just reminded you of the most important thing, and then she slipped back under her covers. She let you drag the purple duvet over her frame, all the way up to her chin, and when she was all snug inside, she gave another smile. She kicked her feet again.
âStay,â she commanded, tone still sugar-sweet.
âI will, baby. âTil your daddy gets back, Iâll be here.â
âI mean forever!â Sarah dragged out the last syllable, and, not yet content with the answer youâd proffered, tried swaying you again, still more emphatic, âFor-ever!â
If your daddy wasnât such an ass, I might consider it.
Instead, you smiled back at her and shook your head. You smoothed the hair away from her face, then you leaned in and kissed her forehead with a gentle peck.
âThen my family would miss me. I gotta see them.â
âSays who?â Sarahâs pout was unmistakable.
Before you could reply, she cut in again.
âYou can be my family. My mommy.â
Your throat constricted at those words. You werenât sure what to say, or how to assuage your sweet Sarah then.
Again, you were about to open your mouth to speak, when your pint-sized companion piped up again. This time, her voice was softer. Surprisingly delicate and low.
âI want you to be my mommy,â she told you quietly, âThen youâll live here. With me and daddy. And youâll never have to go home again and we can play all day!â
Your heart ached. You kissed the tip of her nose and turned away, momentarily, to hide the hurt on your face.
Sarah Miller deserved much more in a mother than you.
When you looked up again, her grin was big. Hopeful.
âDonât you wanna be my mommy too?â she asked.
ââCourse I do, baby,â you answered without hesitation, âButâŠdonât you think your daddy should have a say too?â
Somehow, her face got even brighter.
âHe will! Heâ heâŠâ
Sarah trailed off a second, as if considering her words. She didnât understand what marriage meant. Youâd help.
âYour daddy,â you finished for her, speaking slow and soft as you leaned in close, âis a good man who deserves a good woman to make your mommy. Donât you agree?â
She bit the inside of her cheek.
âYeah, butââ
âAnd a mommyâs gotta be someone he really loves.â
âBut heâŠâ
She was thinking again. You could tell. You pressed on.
âHe is gonna find someone great someday. Heâll love you and her to bits, and yâall will get to play together all day.â
âBut he loves you!â Sarah cried, at length.
A beat.
Your breath faltered.
The girlâs words had scarcely hung in the air for more than two seconds, and their meaning hardly registered in your brain before your own were coming out fast. Certain
âYour daddy doesnât love me, baby. Iâm just his friend.â
âYes, he does! He told me so himself!â
Again, you shook your head.
âYou misunderstood him, sweetie.â
You tried to smooth her hair back again, but Sarahâs head bucked away. She scrunched up her nose in clear protest and refused to let you cradle her face until sheâd spoken her piece. When she did, her voice was pleading all over:
âDaddy loves you, he told me. You can be my mommy.â
And for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you felt your heart balloon in your chest. Your gut clenchedâbut not for the reasons she or you wanted it to. The truth was that you didnât have the words to tell a four-year-old girl that her father didnât love you like that at all, that his head and his heart were anywhere but with you, and that, if you were being honest, you were furious with him. How he could so much as hint at such nonsense was beyond you. His little girl dreamed of having a mother. It was stupid and senseless and cruel to even suggest that that woman could be you. You sighed.
But, despite your every thought and feeling to the contrary, you knew you had to soothe the girl with some small semblance of hope. Something to hold her over for the night, so she didnât cry herself to sleep thinking that you didnât want to be her mommy. Gently, you leaned in.
You lifted the covers back up from where theyâd fallen. You tucked them snug around her torso, and you paused.
Your tone was measured and soft when you spoke next:
âI donât know about your daddy, baby. What I do know is that I would be the luckiest lady alive to get to be your mommy, alright? Iâm not going anywhere, I promise.â
And you meant it. You saw one look light up her face, and every ounce of anger that had been provoked by her father was forgotten in an instant. Her grin ensured it.
âAnywhere,â she parroted back.
âAnywhere,â you said, again.
Then you kissed the crown of her head, wished her sweet dreams, cut the little light off. You left the room quietly.
It was only when you were out of there and far enough away down the hallway that your skin started to burn.
You couldnât help it. Anger was fast to trickle back.
This feeling was only compounded when the next moment brought a sound to the landing on the stairs. You glanced over down the hall, muscles all tensing at once, and when you saw him there, it was as though your rage just bubbled over. Your jaw clenched; your stomach flipped in a way so decidedly unlike how it had done for him two days ago, in his office, and suddenly, your throat was working again. You kept your voice low this time, keen not to draw Sarahâs attention out there, but the words you used were clear. Quiet. Doubtlessly effective.
Even in the dark, you saw his brows jump when he heard:
âJoel, we need to talk.â
It had been two years since heâd had a woman in here.
Joel wished it were under any circumstances but these.
Presently, your eyes were ablaze. The two of you had just stepped into his room and shut the door behind you, and with the click of a latch, you hadnât thought to hold it in:
âWhat the hell is wrong with you?â
He blinked.
Well, many things.
Joel wouldnât have had the space to explain it all if youâd given him a week, and still, he had to say something. He blinked again, made a sound in his throat as if to clear it, then shook his head. His shoulders sagged in his jacket.
âIâŠIâm sorry.â
For the other day. For getting caught up in his own anger and taking it out on you. He wasnât exactly sure what he was apologizing for now, or what he should say, but he thought it best to start there. He shrugged his jacket off and set it over the back of the nearest chair. He turned to you again, where you were standing with a warning look.
âDonât say sorry to me,â you said. âSay sorry to Sarah.â
Sarah?
Before he could speak, you went on.
âYouâre just setting her up for heartbreak, you know that? I mean how selfishâ how stupid could you possibly be?â
You pursed your lips like tears might threaten if you didnât. This caught him off guardâhis daughter? What could he have said or done to hurt her in any of this?
âWhat are you talking about?â
âYou said Iâd be her mom, Joel!â
He winced. You furrowed your brows and set your mouth in a lineâreally trying to fight the emotion behind itâand, while all the rest of you bristled in anticipation for what was to come, Joel softened. He didnât mean to. He didnât want to be the guy who lost his head at the thought of seeing you cry and forget the whole reason you were upset with him in the first place, but he couldnât help it. Though you looked like you wanted to kill him right then, Joel drew closer. He shifted toward you.
âDidâ did she, uhâŠcall youâŠmommy?â he said, pained.
âYeah. And you let her believe she could,â you spat.
He hadnât meant to do that, either. Sarah had been calling you that for a while when you werenât around to hear, and after enough times telling her otherwise, heâd just stopped correcting her on it. Sarah wanted a mother. You were the closest thing she had, and who was he to sabotage that? At the time, heâd just wanted toâŠpretend.
That was a running theme he had going with you.
Right now, you didnât seem to care about that.
You just rolled your eyes in that cool, juvenile way when you didnât hear a response from him, and he had to bite his tongue from saying something worse. He hated when you did that. It made him remember your ageâthe reality of you being his kidâs babysitter and how guilty he should feel for wanting to do something more about that eyeroll.
He wasnât your father.
You werenât Sarahâs mother, either.
You most certainly werenât the girl on his computer screen, as much as he wouldâve liked to see you that way, and even though you were standing here in his bedroom.
That was all fantasy. Make-believe. This was his reality.
You were visibly pissed and wouldnât budge an inch.
âIs it really so bad if she says it?â he grit out.
Your eyes widened. You scoffed.
âOf course it is, Joel!â
You backed away.
He hated seeing that, too. He hated having you move from him, not toward him, wearing that scowl on your lips as you did. His fingers twitchedâitchedâat his side.
âSarahâs young. She doesnâtâŠmean anything by it. Sheâll grow out of it soon enough. And I donât want to hurt her.â
âYouâll hurt her even worse by not telling her the truth!â you snapped. You sounded exasperated saying it now. âWeâre not a family. Iâm the goddamn babysitter, andâ andâ youâre Sarahâs father. Act like it, for Christâs sake.â
That set his teeth on edge.
Joel felt the urge to fight back, but narrowly refrained. He flexed his fingers, and he bit down hard to keep the vitriol at bay. Because that was exactly what fathers did. They controlled their anger; even when faced with a smart-mouthed babysitter who wore his patience out.
Even when your arms were folded over your chest in that impossibly tight, white tank, and your tits looked like they might spill from the fabric at any given moment. Joel swallowed and refocused his gaze before going on.
âDonât tell me how to be a father.â
Something flared in your eyes.
âWhy? Iâm fucking right.â
âLanguage, young lady.â
That only seemed to irk you worse; your hands flew up.
âYeah, well,â you started, accusing, âIf weâre playing house, I might as well be allowed to say what I like.â
âWe are not playing housââ
âBut you want to, right? Thatâs why Iâm always here.â
âNo, I need aââ
âMaid? Mommy?â
You paced closer. Joelâs jaw clenched.
âObedient little housewife?â you sneered.
Your eyes were shining like two derisive pools. With every blink, you seemed to mock him more. Goad him on and beg for your reward, though you hardly knew what it was.
âCâmon, Mr. Miller,â you chided, voice low, âWhat is it?â
What he was, or what heâd stand to take. It wasnât this.
âKeep runninâ that fuckinâ mouth, Iâll show you what.â
The words flew off his tongue before he could stop them.
It was a reflexâsomething that had been stewing in his mind since the second youâd set foot in his room and went on provoking him. But it was wrong, of course.
He was wrong for even thinking it, much less saying it.
Now your eyes were round, and your mouth was slightly agape, and your brain was likely working a thousand miles a minute to process what had just been said.
Joel had to fix it.
âThatâ that ainâtââ he began, already hating himself.
To his surprise, and embarrassment, a laugh rang out.
Its sound was explosive and short. It split the air with such hot, bitter force that his words dropped off. His gaze had no choice but to remain plastered on yours.
âOh, I bet.â
You grinned, humorless.
You didnât appear shocked in the slightest. In fact, his remark seemed only to embolden you then, as you teased that smile wider, drew yourself closer, and tipped your chin up. You looked doubly enlivened by his last admission. Vindicated in some strange, inexplicable way. Your breaths were warm, and the swell of your breasts came to hover just inches from his chest when the last thing he needed to happen, happened between you next.
You pointed again. Joel didnât need to look down.
ââDonât tell me how to be a father,ââ you repeated his words from before, voice taking on a low, faux baritone.
Your amusement was clear. His cock was hard.
It seemed youâd never let the latter slip past you.
âIs that what weâre gettinâ at here, Mr. Miller?â you asked, tone now precocious. Probing, âYou showing me what a great daddy you are, and me being the mommy you alââ
âNo.â
Joel pushed off. He didnât want to hear another thing.
He headed straight for the door, prepared to usher you out of it. This conversation had taken an irreparable turn.
When he reached for the handle, though, he had to stop. Your voice made him stop, echoing from the opposite end of the room. Joel turned, and he saw you on his bed.
âIâm just curious. Is that really what you meant?â
You were sitting at the foot of it, legs casually hanging off. Your look was innocent, and still more knowing than Joel could bear. The heat left to swirl in his groin nearly suffocated him below the waist, and he inhaled deeply.
âMean what? I didnâtâŠmean anything.â
His touch fell from the doorknob all the same.
Your feet were swinging when he faced you completely.
âJust like you didnât mean for Sarah to call me mommy?â
Maybe he had meant it more than he let on. He couldnât answer. Joel felt every bit the creep he knew himself to beâdecades your senior and letting you rest on his bed, soft, smooth legs kicking back and forth as he watched.
He was good at that, wasnât he? Watching. Waiting. Aching from the comfort of his home office while he watched those filthy clips on repeat, images of you flitting through his mind at every stretch, moan, and whimper. His will was powerless to his perverted needs. He had only to defend himself against their influence by planting his feet firmly in place and refusing to move.
âYou wanna teach me, though. Donât you, daddy?â
It was as though your words reached him from another place. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mindâhis memoryâand the tone of it stirred him. It was familiar, in ways you couldnât have possibly understood. Unless you were living in his head, there was no way in hell you couldâve known what those lines meant to him.
âGonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.â
It made him ache.
Joel still wouldnât move, but you could come to him.
He blinked once, and you were there. Off the bed. Walking to him. Down on your knees in front of him.
This had to be the work of his own sick imagination.
He groaned at just the sight of your smile, curving slow.
And then you peeled off your top, revealing the bright, nylon, cherry-red fabric heâd seen far too many times on his computer screen and off itâon you, by his pool. Joel sucked in a breath and shook his head, gaze darkening.
âThought you didnât wanna play mommy,â he growled.
If this was all just in his head, he could talk as he wanted.
âI donât,â you answered him soberly. Suddenly, your chin was in his hand. Your eyes were still glistening up at him. âBut you need to get this out of your system. Just once.â
Out of his system.
Joel was out of his fucking mind with desire.
âJust once?â His voice cracked as he said it.
Only one time. That was alright. Forgivable.
From what he half-believed to be a figment of his own perverted mind came the word from your lips: âOnce.â
The next had the thumb that was cupping your chin slipping between those same lips. Still smiling while your mouth slid down to his knuckle. You sucked him gently.
And in just one glimpse, one fleeting second on that lone, thick thumb, the sight below him had every other obscene thing entrenched in his memory beat by a mile. You were better than everything else heâd seen or tried to dream up. You were real, he hoped, sliding your shiny wet lips up and down the surface of his skin, and when you pried them off, and you asked for his cock, he had no choice but to oblige. He had to rack his brain for words.
This was his babysitter, his daughterâs companion, hisâ
âSweet fuckinâ girl,â he said when he first felt you there.
Before he even knew what became of his belt, buckle, and zip, the base of his cock was in your hand, and your lips were hovering precariously over the tip. Your breaths were soft and hot. Your graze drank him in with curiosity.
âShould I kiss you here, daddy?â Your mouth lowered.
âRight there, sweetie,â Joel breathed out.
He truly couldnât believe it when the warmth of you enveloped his tip. When the first lick of your tongue came to collect the bead of precum sitting at the slit and he damn near bucked his hips up. You licked at it again.
And again. And again. And again.
You whimpered lightly, enjoying the taste.
The second you pulled your mouth away, Joel hissed.
âBaby, pleaseââ he started, tone strained.
âWhat? Where does daddy want it?â
The question was so innocent.
It was clear you wanted to hear him guide you through it, as evidenced by the way your lips twitched at his hand smoothing down and over the crown of your head. Joel held it like he might never get this chance again, and, at once, his voice lowered along with it. He scarcely recognized himself with how gently he spoke then.
âLet daddy show you,â he said, âOpen your mouth.â
And you did.
Your jaw fell slack, your lips split apart, and your eyes peered up with a wide and open stare. In a look, you seemed already to say that you trusted him to fill it.
No sight on a screen couldâve made him so hard.
He fed you an inch, eyes locked with yours as he did. His cock slid in another, and another, then stopped. He pulled back. The wetness and the warmth of your mouth nearly did him in, and the way you whined for more had him fisting your hair tight. Trying to keep his composure.
âThat alright, honey? FeelâŠnice goinâ in?â
âYes, daddy,â you hummed obediently.
Your mouth opened wider.
âMore, please?â
Your tongue was flattened in a second. Joel slid back in, and his shaft was greeted by the slick, shiny cushion of the muscle underneath. He sank in. He invaded every inch of your mouth he could find, and he breathed out.
âJust like that, sweetie. Takinâ daddy so well.â
What little gurgles he heard stifled between your lips at that, spit drooling gently from either side, he only found more endearing. When he pulled back and saw strings of your spit trail after its path, he felt delirious. You were real, coating the whole throbbing length of his cock with your saliva and your precious soft whines, and you were sweet for him. Pliant for his cock. Jaw obliging and inviting and hanging wide open for him to fuck again.
He let you have it. He slid in once, grazed your throat, slid out again. He cupped your face in his hands and thumbed your cheeks. He coaxed your lips wider for him. You took it all well; you responded to every tender little directive from the man who was stuffing your mouth, âFaster now, atta girlâ and âTake daddy deeperâ and âKeep that pretty mouth open and those eyes on me.â Joel was so caught up in the feel and the friction and the intimacy of every passing moment that he almost didnât see when you started to shift your legs. Parting them.
And, right when the head of his cock had reached the back of your mouth and was teasing down your wet, open throat, he felt it fully: your whimpering plea.
You grinding your cunt against the toe of his boot, and peering up at him with eyes all wet, wide, and needy.
You rutted your hips. It looked like you couldnât help it.
It seemed as though it were a mere spasm of the body that you couldnât controlâlike his cock down your throat was too good for your sense or your oversexed mind to handle. Heâd scarcely stirred in place when he felt you humping him, whines rippling down his length with every bob of your head as you keened for some kind of release.
Joel had never seen anything like it. He didnât know what to say or do except stroke his hand over your scalp and pin you with a look. His cock twitched in your mouth.
âIs that how we ask to get fucked in this house?â
His tone surprised him with how steady it stayed.
Your mouth still full of him, you tried to shake your head.
What came next was more instinct than logical thought; Joel pulled you off his cock and onto your feet. His touch on your body was soft. He couldnât pinpoint a reason for his being so gentle, but every second that elapsed now seemed to demand it. He was teaching you to please. There could be no better place for kindness than here.
Heâd lead you to the bed and guide you down himself. Heâd tell you to open your mouth and then he would kiss it, and lick inside it. Maybe spit inside it, too. Heâd tug at your bikini straps, watch your breasts give way to the pressure of the pull before bouncing right back in place. Heâd take off your top. Latch his mouth around a nipple, swirl his tongue across the skin, and heâd kiss you again.
Joel did all these things, and you let him. You met him with whimpers, with wide open legs, and eventually, with your feet digging into the covers beneath you, begging, âDaddy, please put it in.â Your gaze was febrile as you did.
Whether you meant it, or were simply pretending for him, gave Joel pause. Just as youâd tried to yank your jean shorts down your legs, he dropped his hands to your own. He stopped them in their path. He leaned closer.
âDo you know what you and me are about to do, hm?â
His question was barbed but sweet. Testing the waters.
Were you game to keep playing house? Did you want it?
These things mattered to Joel; whether the wetness between your legs was meant for him and him alone. Whether you needed him there, like the breath in your lungs. He wouldnât fuck you if he wasnât. He might feel lonely at timesâdesperate to feel your cunt squeeze his too-old cock like your life depended on itâbut he was a man who wanted to be wanted, too. An instant of clarity hit, and suddenly he was asking it, plain and in your face:
âDo you wanna do what mommies and daddies do?â
Your mouth fell slack. Again. You nodded.
Either you were the single best actress, or you wanted it. Hoping desperately for the latter, Joel kissed the side of your face. You turned your head, quickly, and captured his lips in yours instead. You pulled him down to you.
âLike this?â you murmured, words muffled against him.
You wrapped your legs around his waist and then ground your clothed lower half with hisâJoelâs cock was tucked haphazardly back in his boxers, and his jeans, unzipped, hung just underneath them around his hips. He felt like a teen again, clothes thrown askew and hormones all wild.
Except he wasnât. He was a grown man, in his own bed, with his child fast asleep down the hall. He thanked his lucky stars that their rooms were as far apart as possible, and that he no longer had to worry about the prying eyes of his mom or dad trying to catch him out after curfew. This wasnât high school, or a night out in college, or the time a condom had split and Sarah had been conceived.
Now if he could just make sure she didnât get a siblingâŠ
Kidding.
âPill,â Joel choked out, just as your legs drew him in to meet your movements, âAreâ are you on the pill, orââ
Am I going to have to hit up a Texaco at 10 PM to get some rubbers and admit I havenât gotten laid in a year?
You grinned.
âIUD.â
That works, too.
Joel probably shouldnât have seemed so eager. He probably shouldnât have taken your face in his hands and kissed you so hard, either. But his skin was ablaze; his eyes were wild; his limbs were molten; and his headâyou didnât want to know where it was. What he was thinking.
What he wanted to tell you while he tugged his cock back out and started working his hand up and down it. It felt too intimate, too depraved, to be spoken aloud.
Then, to his shock, you said the words yourself:
âShow me how youâd make me a mommy anyway.â
If not for protection. If not for common sense. If not for that thrumming, pulsing, warning repetition in his head: Do not get her pregnant. Do not give your kid a sibling.
But this was all pretend, wasnât it?
Joel yanked down your shorts, practically tore them from your legs, and situated himself between them, breathing hard and fast, before he nodded his head and kissed you. With his one free hand, he held the base of his dick, and he guided it closer to your slick, puffy, aching entrance through the barrier of your red bikini. He rutted his hips.
You were bare beneath him, save for that one scrap of fabric between your lower half and his. You smiled, and you wriggled your body against his, and you drew him in. Joel groaned when he felt you slide your bottoms to the slide and let him feel, for the first time, how wet you were. How warm, inviting, and tight that cunt must be and how badly he needed it. How desperately he had to be buried inside that heatâhe all but panted the words:
âCan daddy put it in?â
You spread your legs wider. You nodded.
Then he did. Without one breath of a thought to the contrary, he pushed the head of himself past the fabric, through your folds, into that wet and precious spot heâd only dreamed heâd ever feel, and he let out a full-throated moan. He felt your walls contract, heard the tender little squelch of your body making room for his length, and he damn near blew his whole load right there. You felt good.
Your chest rose with a breath, and your eyes widened.
Like you hadnât just had him down your throat, drenched in your spit and gliding in and out: âHeâs so big, daddy.â
Joelâs lips kissed your cheek. His tip kissed your cervix. You whined a little, and he pulled you in closer to him.
âI know, honey, I know,â he cooed, rocking you with the softest motions, âAinât that what mommy likes, though?â
Your lips parted again. A strangled whine of assent slid out, just as his hips withdrew himself back to that shiny, bulbous head, and then he fucked back in. Back and forth, back and forth, Joel sent your body bouncing with every thrust. He felt you clench, and the strokes sped up.
The bed creaked underneath. It seemed to shake the whole room. In truth, there wasnât a thought in Joelâs head except for the ones relating to you and how good you took his cock, but somewhere, not far off, there was the instinct of a father idling too. With every stab of the headboard against the wall and every moan of yours under him he had to smother with his lips, he was reminded you two had to be quiet. He leaned in.
Grazing your ear with a stubbled chin, and fucking you gently into his bed, Joel sank his weight even lower.
âCan mommy stay real quiet for daddy? Can she try?â
From the way your eyes were glazed, he expected you to nod. And you did, just barely, heels digging in the mound of his ass and your fingers finding his sides. But then you slid a touch up his ribs; you squeezed the flesh. You let him pound your cunt for a few more precious seconds, and just when he thought that was the end of it, you tilted your head to him. Your nose bumped his, and you grinned, flashing the single most pretty, fucked-out look.
âFeels like a fucking dream, daddy,â you breathed.
Joel balked. He almost stopped right then and there.
Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eamâoh, OH!
Oh.
You couldnât have known that.
There was no shot you knew where the fuck those words were from. Or what they meant. Joel furrowed his brow and kept rutting his hips, hands tightening in the sheets beside your head as the scene from his naughty all-time favorite film flickered briefly through his mind. No shot.
Then your legs wound around the backs of his even tighter, and your eyes were all but shining with a fresh, twisted glint. With a measured tone, you went on for him:
âHeâs so big, daddy. Feels so good going inside me.â
You even mimicked her tone. Joel paled above you.
His hips stalled a moment, and your cunt hugged him tight. Your teeth nipped at his chin, playfully, and before he could even try to speak again, your lips were there.
At his ear, whispering what heâd dreaded hearing most.
âYou should really clear those PornHub searches after youâre done. Or at least lock your office while Iâm here.â
Joelâs thrusts stopped completely.
He was about to search for his voice again, when your walls clamped down around him, and his vision went swimming. His cock pulsed inside you, and he groaned.
Then his hips picked up; it wasnât a conscious decision. He just needed to fuck, needed to finish, needed to see the light twinkle and burst behind your eyes while he stuffed your cunt full. It didnât matter what you knewâyour lips were curled in such a sweet, smug smile below him, there was likely no use in trying to explain himself now. Joel just gritted his teeth, and he tried smiling back. He fucked you faster, and harder, than heâd done before.
When you clawed at his back, the pace grew merciless. Every inch of the space around him, it seemed, was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, whimpers, and moans. As before, Joel almost didnât recognize his voice.
âThat so?â was all it could manage to get out at present.
With your cunt fluttering repeatedly, hips rolling with his own, and those lips letting moans spill out one after the next, it was all he could do to try to keep his composure.
Joel kissed you, and then he flipped your body around. He moved back to find the headboard and rest himself against it, got your legs straddling his, and slid you down
Down, down, down on his cock. Stretching you out. Then moving you back up again. Making you bounce in his lap and have your hands fumble to find his shoulders. You squeezed his biceps and moaned, and at the same time, his slick-smeared lower half rutted to greet yours. Your essence drenched him; he could feel it soak straight through the black-and-gray hairs at the base of his cock.
You looked perfect like thisâbetter than any girl on camera couldâve been. Your hips rolled, and you moaned while sliding up and down on his dick, again and again. Joel felt the trembling pulse through your body and his, groaned at the grip of your cunt around him, and helped you ride him. With one hand at the small of your back and the other cupping your face, he held you close to him. Your pace quickened, and the hand at your chin made its way to your throat, to hold you firmly there.
Joel had a thumb on your pulse and his eyes raking over your writhing form when he felt compelled to talk again.
Share a truth, since all the rest was coming out anyway.
He didnât think so much as feel it flow from there, like the blood rushing through his veins. Joel winced at a fresh influx of pleasure and let you grind on him twice more. Then he was gripping you tighter, fucking up into you harder, and he was skimming his teeth along your skin. As a knot coiled deep within his stomach, he let it out:
âWanna cum inside this pussy, baby. Fill her up with me.â
The head of his cock struck a dizzying blow to someplace close to your cervix, and you held him tighter.
âYeah, Mr. Miller?â You couldnât help the teasing tone.
You fought a breathless laugh, then were forced to suck in a gasp of air just as quick; his length sheathed itself inside you completely, and Joelâs grip constricted on your throat. He kissed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth while he fucked up into you, again and again.
You whined, and he mumbled against you, âThatâs right.â
You hissed at him deep in your guts, and he went on:
âGonna stuff her full. Make her wet and messy and drippinâ with me. Show mommy how much daddy lovââ
He cut himself short. His balls were heavy, full, and ready to paint you white, but that line was a touch too far, even now. He couldnât say it outright and not sound like a fucking creep, no matter how deep in this roleplay you happened to be. Joel squeezed your hips and grunted.
And, for what felt like the fifteenth time that night, you surprised him. Your chin tilted to his, your lips brushed against his mouth, and you smiled, again. It was tender.
âHow much does daddy love me, hm? Show me.â
Your walls clenched at the end of the last sentence, and Joel couldnât help but groan in your mouth. His eyes lifted to yours, and in your gaze, he found anything but incredulityâyou already knew what he felt, somehow.
âSarah tell you that, too? That I love you?â he growled.
Heâd said it once. At the time, he hadnât thought heâd meant it at all, but the words just sounded so good when it came to you. Sarah had asked him if heâd wanted you to be her mommy someday, if he loved you like a daddy loves a mommy, and heâd said he did. Looking back, it hadnât felt half as good as it did right now: peering into your eyes, feeling your warmth swallow him whole, and sensing you were nearing your climax, all because of him. It made him want to say it over again, now face-to-face.
Be it roleplay, fantasy, fixationâhe needed to say it now.
âDaddy does love you,â he went on, before you could even respond. His pelvis rutted against yours, and his gaze stayed steeped in desire as he felt you grip harder, âLoves you so damn much he wants to stuff a big load in that pretty little cunt. Make you his. That alright by you?â
Your gaze went blank in an instant. Your lips twitched.
Something delectably wet, tight, and far too tempting shuddered someplace inside you, and with pride, Joel sensed the remnants of it leak out and smear his tummy. You liked that idea. Still, you seemed hesitant as your teeth snagged your bottom lip between them. You drew one steadying breath, and you slowed your movements.
âIâve neverâŠhad that,â you admitted quietly.
Then that sticky-sweet embrace your cunt held him in got even wetter. Like your mind wasnât fully on-board, but your body was all in. You were close, by the feel of it.
But Joel would only give what you were fully ready to take. At length, he lowered one hand to the small of your back, and his thumb rubbed at the skin. He let you feel him in only the shallowest of strokes, bouncing you softly
âAinât gotta be inside, then,â he murmured, assuring, âIâll shoot this load wherever mommy tells me to go, alright?â
That made you whimper.
From there, your mind seemed to be decided all at once.
âCum inside. I-I want it.â
Joel swallowed thickly.
âYou sure, sugar? I canââ
Suddenly, your hips were stirring. They started up quicker than before, and your hand was swift to plant itself flat on his chest, as though to stabilize yourself.
âCum. In. Me.â
It was the most decisive, and desperate, youâd sounded all night. Your gaze flitted to his, and in it, he saw a plea.
With a look like that, Joel knew he couldnât make you wait. He wouldnât make you wait. Trying not to smirk as he did, he leaned in and kissed you, and felt you drip more arousal as something knotted in your belly. He smoothed your hair away and delivered the gentlest thrusts from belowâhe knew it wouldnât take much.
âMama goes first,â he prodded. He felt you tense, and clench, and leak a little more down his front, and when the head of cock nicked a soft ridge, he groaned, too. âCum for daddy now and heâll give you his load, OK?â
Then his touch slipped between your legs. You keened.
âDaddy, Iââ you hiccuped, grip tightening like a vice when his thumb found your clit and started rubbing.
Joel circled faster.
âBreathe, baby. Breathe.â
âI canât,â you cried, âFeels tooââ
Good. Your body seemed to finish for you.
It started with a pulse. Then a pinch. A trickling warmth. Joel hardly knew what else to do but keep rubbing that little pearl between your folds, even when you started to gush around his hand. It wet his tummy; it drenched all the hairs around the base of his cock, and still, he kept thumbing your clit and rocking you back and forth above him. He let you cry out and bite his shoulder while your climax tore through you, and though he knew you had to be quiet, he couldnât help but relish the sound. He smiled
âThatâs it. Thatâs my girl. Give it to daddy.â
And, while he also told you to keep breathing and let him have it all, he was right hereâin a matter of seconds, he was slipping off, too. He couldnât hope to try and stop it. With one more pulse of your walls, you groaned and got your wet, spent, needy hole stuffed full of him, just how youâd asked. Joel flooded your insides with his seed and kept you fucked straight down to the hilt so he wouldnât see a drop of himself escape. He hugged you tight and heard you whine at that primal sensation, getting pumped with rope after rope of his cum, then he felt your limbs go limp. Joel kissed the side of your face. He cradled you, held you securely in place, and let the last of his spend paint your walls in a couple more gentle spurts
When it was over, he stroked your back. He sensed the aftershocks of your climax pass through your tired frame, and he made sure not to rock you too hard against him. He just wanted you to feel that he was there, if the heft of his cum and his cock still deep inside you wasnât enough.
His head grew clearer, too. While still drawing short, ragged breaths in time, he managed to find the words that had evaded him beforeâwhat he shouldâve said.
ââMâsorry,â he mumbled into your hair.
You just nuzzled your face deeper.
âDonât be.â
âBut Iââ
Then you tilted your headâenough for your gaze to meet with his, briefly, and tell him all that he needed to hear.
âYouâre a good dad, Joel.â
He opened his mouth, but you were already pressing on.
âAnd I donâtâŠmind if Sarah calls me what she wants for now. Iâm sure youâll find someone great to be her mom someday, and then this whole thing wonât even matter.â
For some reason, the sound of it made Joel wince.
He couldnât quite place the feeling, but he knew he didnât want you thinking that. His grip constricted around you.
âNo,â he muttered, indistinct. Defiant.
âNo?â
You almost laughed.
It was insane, admittedlyâjust last night heâd been dreaming of the feel of you in the grip of his fist, wishing for nothing but his own release and a fleeting thought of your body underneath him, and here he was, doing this.
Youâd said it was a one-and-done deal, and maybe it was.
But for him, maybe, it wasnât. Heâd be remiss not to try.
If you shot him down and left him to pine and meander through the manifold archives of PornHub for the rest of his horny life, that would be alright. At least he had tried.
With these thoughts thrumming through his brain, Joel was about to pull you closer and venture to speak again, when, for the second time, his words were cut short. His voice was presently supplanted by a sound that startled you both, and in a moment, he recognized what it was.
A knock.
âDa-a-a-a-a-a-addy?â
Shit.
He nearly caught a knee to the gut with how quickly you tried scrambling off his lap, limbs revived and frantic and desperate to get your clothes back on before that tiny voice could resume its speechâor get a hand to the door
âYeah, sweetie? Giveâ give daddy aââ âFuck!â he cursed under his breath as he tripped over your shorts on the floor, ââa minute. Iâll be right there. Just gimme a sec.â
Joel fell. You floundered. His hand snagged the edge of the bed before he hit the ground fully, while you set off across the room to fight the strings of your bikini top and wrestle the thing on. The second you sensed that battle was lost, you grabbed your shirt instead. You were just yanking it on, and Joel was just regaining his bearings and about to chuck your shorts your way, when a voice through the door stopped the two of you coldâagain.
To your horror, it was hopeful. Too sweet to be real.
âCan I sleep with you and mommy tonight?â
You couldâve soundly beat Joelâs ass with that pretty, skimpy swimsuit in your grasp and not regretted a thing, if he had to guess by the look you were flashing him now.
He didnât blame you. His hands shot up in silent defense.
âMommyâ mommyâs not here, honey. She went home.â Joel shortly tried, and failed, to keep the pretense of innocence alive, all while dodging the first swing of your bikiniâs bra at his head. He ducked; you struck a lamp.
He jumped back, a wordless grin stretching his lips as he righted that fixture fast. With one look, it seemed to say:
Iâm so, so sorry, baby.
But inside his head, he couldnât help but admit this was a little bit funny. Probably sensing this, you swung again.
âYes, she is! I heard her,â Sarah huffed outside.
Joel was sliding up his jeans. Apologizing with his eyes and also trying not to crack an even bigger smile at you.
âDonât be silly, Sarââ
âYouâre having a sleepover!â she accused.
Well, in a manner of speaking.
Joel had just buckled his belt and redid his zip when a flash of red nylon smacked him in the face. Playfully.
You were evidently beginning to fight a grin like his, dropping the feigned indignation and pacing closer.
âSleeping my assââ you started in a whisper.
And you were about to chase him again, or else propose jumping from the window to get out now and save face, maybe, when Joel felt an old, familiar feeling crop up inside him. Like before, it wasnât the kind of urge he could fight; his instincts took over, and he did it swiftly.
Admittedly, the timing was terribleâbut he kissed you.
He pressed his lips to your own and relished the feeling. He grabbed both sides of your face and walked you back to the bedâthe same one drenched in sweat and your release, which heâd definitely need to change in a minuteâand for a fleeting moment, it was all he needed. Your mouth was on his, grinning a little and promising silently that if Sarah ever does walk in on us, Iâm gonna kill you.
Against his better judgment, he pushed you back on the bed. He dropped his weight over your body and kept the kiss ongoing, feeling need surge inside for something far beyond the physical. It couldnât be âone-and-doneâ here.
But for now, at least, in spite of his feelings, it had to be.
Joel didnât want to let go or stop kissing, but the next second left no room for much else, unfortunately. His daughterâs voice returned, and the words that followed proved impossible to ignore, for either one of you then.
All color drained from his face, and your eyes widened.
âI heard mommy screaming before. Is she alright?â
#THE WAY IâVE NEVER WRITTEN A NCFOM-INSPIRED FIC IS INSANE#ITâS ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVORITE MOVIES AND THE TITLE IS SOOOOO FITTING FOR JOEL đȘ#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#joel miller tlou#the last of us fic
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