#Queen Street West

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Portraits of Queen West

Tomorrow (September 14), I'm hosting the EFF Awards in San Francisco. On September 22, I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy.

Portraits of Queen West is Kevin Steele's extraordinary photo-book, a work of "sequential art" featuring time- and space-series of a single – rather glorious – stretch of Toronto's Queen Street West:

https://crowdfundr.com/queenwest

Steele himself is as extraordinary as his book. I first ran into him through Mackerel Multimedia, the pioneering Canadian multimedia shop that he co-founded in the early 1990s – one of those art-school kids who discovered the Mac, fell in love with the radical possibilities of digital art, and changed the world:

https://craphound.com/nonfic/mackerel.html

Steele's pioneering work – in Hypercard, then CDROMs, then Flash – helped define the look-and-feel of the old, good internet; an urbanist feel that owed a debt to Toronto's most beloved adopted urbanist, Jane Jacobs. Steele and Mackerel made things that were beautiful and human-centered, human-scaled and human-adaptable.

Not for nothing, Hypercard presaged the web's critical "view source" affordance, which allowed people to copy, modify, customize and improve on the things that they found delightful or useful; this affordance was later adapted by other human-centered projects like Scratch, and is a powerful tonic against enshittification.

Mackerel didn't survive the first great multimedia mass-extinction, but it launched the careers of a whole generation of talented web-writers and builders, and not just its former employees, but also the millions who were touched by its work.

I haven't seen Steele in person in decades, but I follow his work – not as a multimedia artist, but as an urban photographer. Kevin and I follow each other on Flickr – the once great and great again photo-sharing site that survived decades of abuse from Yahoo and Verizon before being taken indie and rescued by the Smugmug folks.

Back in November 2010, Kevin started posting photos of individual storefronts on Queen Street West to Flickr. They were painstakingly labeled and dated, and they multiplied. By the end of the year, there were a couple dozen of them:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=date-posted-desc&safe_search=1&tags=queenstreetwest&user_id=92518741%40N00&view_all=1&min_upload_date=1073368800&max_upload_date=1294552799

A year later, there were hundreds:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=date-posted-desc&safe_search=1&tags=queenstreetwest&user_id=92518741%40N00&view_all=1&min_upload_date=1073368800&max_upload_date=1326088799

Today, there are over 1,200 of these:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=date-taken-desc&safe_search=1&tags=queenstreetwest&user_id=92518741%40N00&view_all=1

Now, I know Queen Street West very well. It was once one of Toronto's most bohemian neighborhoods, where my paternal grandfather's fellow refugee Benny Yacht has his schmata shop and where my maternal grandfather took my mother and her siblings to trade in their comics for credit at cramped, crammed used bookstores.

I discovered Queen West as a pre-teen, thanks to Bakka Books – now Bakka Phoenix – the oldest science fiction bookstore in the world. I haunted Bakka, and, on the way, found myself drawn into the other stores around it:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/48476314831/in/photolist-2gRFMvz-2oJJDCY

There was Silver Snail, a massive comics shop, but a bounty of used bookstores, vintage clothing stores, thrift shops, the indescribably great electronics store Active Surplus and, later, nightclubs like the Rivoli, the Diamond, the Bovine Sex Club and the Zoo Bar.

For a critical decade of my life and more, the stretch of Queen Street that Steele obsessively documented in his Flickr feed had been the center of my life. I watched it thrive and grow – and then collapse into a kind of self-parody, as the original landlords (like Bakka's landlord) died, and their failsons and faildaughters kicked out longstanding tenants and replaced them with multinational "brands" that turned Queen West into a less-convenient, open-air version of the sterile Eaton Centre mall.

Steele, it turns out, was having similar feelings of dismay as the organic, grown, chaotic delight became groomed, sterile and homogenized. After a 2008 fire wiped out an entire block of Queen West – including Duke's Cycle, a city institution that eventually shuttered after more than a century of service – Steele began his documentation project.

Steele had started documenting the street in 2001, but that fire turned a hobby into a project. Over and over again, Steele returned to the street, meticulously photographing the same storefronts, capturing a time-series that eventually spanned 16 years, from 2001-2017. Steele gradually stitched these photos together into panoramic collages, reproducing whole blocks:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=date-taken-desc&safe_search=1&tags=linearpanorama&user_id=92518741%40N00&view_all=1

It is these "linear panoramas" that form the backbone of Portraits of Queen West. The book runs 162 pages, and it meant to be read forwards and backwards – start from the front cover and turn the pages to see the north side of the street, along with insets showing details (like the storied Graffiti Alley), and then flip the book over and start again, seeing the south side.

For more than a decade, I've thrilled to my unexpected trips through Steele's time-machine, as he posted his space-and-time-series images of a vanished urbanism, an old, good city that paralleled the old, good web. I got a peek at a PDF of the new book that collects these extraordinary image and immediately pre-ordered a copy.

Steele and his publisher Black Eye Books are crowdfunding presales of the book on Crowdfundr; the book is CAD40 with shipping (there's also a deluxe edition at CAD55, which comes with a signed bookplate and six postcards):

https://crowdfundr.com/queenwest

After a string of ghastly mayors – each finding new depths of depravity, selfishness and mismanagement to plumb – Toronto just elected its first progressive mayor in a generation, the wonderful Olivia Chow, for whom I used to ring doorbells support of her city council campaigns:

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/jun/27/olivia-chow-wins-election-as-torontos-first-chinese-canadian-mayor

Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. The enshittification of the old, good web continues apace, but there has never been more energy to build a new, good internet – and banish the enshitternet of Big Tech to the scrapheap of history.

In the same way, Toronto's much eroded urbanism, pluralism and liveability are both at their lowest ebb in my lifetime – and also at their most hopeful moment of the century. In 1998, the dead-eyed Romneyoid Premier of Ontario Mike Harris "amalgamated" Toronto with its suburbs, putting it at the mercy of car-addled out-of-towners in an act of gerrymandering that all-but-guaranteed that city residents' political choices would be swamped by suburbanites who could be convinced to vote for laughable Tory bumblefucks like Rob Ford.

Overcoming the gerrymander required a massive turnout – not merely a supermajority, but an ultramajority of politically motivated, organized, committed, pissed off Torontonians; Chow's election is a minor miracle that part of the wave of other historic reversals, like the DoJ awakening from its coma to drag Google into court on antitrust charges.

We are a long way away from making a new, good internet that's a worthy successor to the old, good internet, and at least as far from a new, good Toronto that the people of the old, good Toronto would have built but for Tory wreckers and the Christmas-voting turkeys who elevated them to office. But both are possible – and both demand that we fight for them.

Steele's beautiful photodocumentary of one slice of that old, good city doesn't just memorialize the world we lost – it is inspiration for a world that is ours to win.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/13/spadina-to-bathurst/#dukes-cycle

EFF Awards, San Francisco, September 14

[pennanbrae]

Busting loose while making a wrong turn.

[uglyandtraveling]

Experience the BEST of Toronto Downtown from Queen Street to Nathan Phillips Square in 4K

Join me on an immersive walking tour through the heart of Toronto Downtown, capturing the city's vibrant streets and iconic spots in stunning 4K.

From the bustling energy of Queen Street to the cultural centerpiece of Nathan Phillips Square, this video offers a true taste of Toronto’s urban charm. You’ll see downtown streets, historic landmarks, modern skyscrapers, and the city's diverse blend of people and culture, all while taking in the atmosphere of one of Canada’s busiest downtown cores.

Whether you're a local or a traveler planning your first visit to Toronto, this walking tour provides a unique perspective of the city's top attractions, including Toronto City Hall, the famous Toronto sign, and much more.

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the Toronto vibes like never before, don’t forget to hit that subscribe button if you want more 4K walking tours and travel vlogs from amazing places around Toronto, Canada.

If you’ve visited Toronto or are planning to, what are your favorite spots in the city? Let me know in the comments!

[marvinjob]

1001 Queen Street West

[biglisbonnews]

Pluralistic: Portraits of Queen West (13 Sept 2023) Today's links Portraits of Queen West: Kevin Steele's "sequential art" book of the glory days of Queen Street West. Hey look at this: Delights to delectate. This day in history: 2008, 2013, 2018, 2022 Colophon: Recent publications, upcoming/recent appearances, current writing projects, current reading Portraits of Queen West (permalink) Portraits of Queen West is Kevin Steele's extraordinary photo-book, a work of "sequential art" featuring time- and space-series of a single – rather glorious – stretch of Toronto's Queen Street West: https://crowdfundr.com/queenwest Steele himself is as extraordinary as his book. I first ran into him through Mackerel Multimedia, the pioneering Canadian multimedia shop that he co-founded in the early 1990s – one of those art-school kids who discovered the Mac, fell in love with the radical possibilities of digital art, and changed the world: https://craphound.com/nonfic/mackerel.html Steele's pioneering work – in Hypercard, then CDROMs, then Flash – helped define the look-and-feel of the old, good internet; an urbanist feel that owed a debt to Toronto's most beloved adopted urbanist, Jane Jacobs. Steele and Mackerel made things that were beautiful and human-centered, human-scaled and human-adaptable. Not for nothing, Hypercard presaged the web's critical "view source" affordance, which allowed people to copy, modify, customize and improve on the things that they found delightful or useful; this affordance was later adapted by other human-centered projects like Scratch, and is a powerful tonic against enshittification. Mackerel didn't survive the first great multimedia mass-extinction, but it launched the careers of a whole generation of talented web-writers and builders, and not just its former employees, but also the millions who were touched by its work. I haven't seen Steele in person in decades, but I follow his work – not as a multimedia artist, but as an urban photographer. Kevin and I follow each other on Flickr – the once great and great again photo-sharing site that survived decades of abuse from Yahoo and Verizon before being taken indie and rescued by the Smugmug folks. Back in November 2010, Kevin started posting photos of individual storefronts on Queen Street West to Flickr. They were painstakingly labeled and dated, and they multiplied. By the end of the year, there were a couple dozen of them: https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=date-posted-desc&safe_search=1&tags=queenstreetwest&user_id=92518741%40N00&view_all=1&min_upload_date=1073368800&max_upload_date=1294552799 A year later, there were hundreds: https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=date-posted-desc&safe_search=1&tags=queenstreetwest&user_id=92518741%40N00&view_all=1&min_upload_date=1073368800&max_upload_date=1326088799 Today, there are over 1,200 of these: https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=date-taken-desc&safe_search=1&tags=queenstreetwest&user_id=92518741%40N00&view_all=1 Now, I know Queen Street West very well. It was once one of Toronto's most bohemian neighborhoods, where my paternal grandfather's fellow refugee Benny Yacht has his schmata shop and where my maternal grandfather took my mother and her siblings to trade in their comics for credit at cramped, crammed used bookstores. I discovered Queen West as a pre-teen, thanks to Bakka Books – now Bakka Phoenix – the oldest science fiction bookstore in the world. I haunted Bakka, and, on the way, found myself drawn into the other stores around it: https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/48476314831/in/photolist-2gRFMvz-2oJJDCY There was Silver Snail, a massive comics shop, but a bounty of used bookstores, vintage clothing stores, thrift shops, the indescribably great electronics store Active Surplus and, later, nightclubs like the Rivoli, the Diamond, the Bovine Sex Club and the Zoo Bar. For a critical decade of my life and more, the stretch of Queen Street that Steele obsessively documented in his Flickr feed had been the center of my life. I watched it thrive and grow – and then collapse into a kind of self-parody, as the original landlords (like Bakka's landlord) died, and their failsons and faildaughters kicked out longstanding tenants and replaced them with multinational "brands" that turned Queen West into a less-convenient, open-air version of the sterile Eaton Centre mall. Steele, it turns out, was having similar feelings of dismay as the organic, grown, chaotic delight became groomed, sterile and homogenized. After a 2008 fire wiped out an entire block of Queen West – including Duke's Cycle, a city institution that eventually shuttered after more than a century of service – Steele began his documentation project. Steele had started documenting the street in 2001, but that fire turned a hobby into a project. Over and over again, Steele returned to the street, meticulously photographing the same storefronts, capturing a time-series that eventually spanned 16 years, from 2001-2017. Steele gradually stitched these photos together into panoramic collages, reproducing whole blocks: https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=date-taken-desc&safe_search=1&tags=linearpanorama&user_id=92518741%40N00&view_all=1 It is these "linear panoramas" that form the backbone of Portraits of Queen West. The book runs 162 pages, and it meant to be read forwards and backwards – start from the front cover and turn the pages to see the north side of the street, along with insets showing details (like the storied Graffiti Alley), and then flip the book over and start again, seeing the south side. For more than a decade, I've thrilled to my unexpected trips through Steele's time-machine, as he posted his space-and-time-series images of a vanished urbanism, an old, good city that paralleled the old, good web. I got a peek at a PDF of the new book that collects these extraordinary image and immediately pre-ordered a copy. Steele and his publisher Black Eye Books are crowdfunding presales of the book on Crowdfundr; the hardcover is CAD40 with shipping (there's also a deluxe edition at CAD55, which comes with a signed bookplate and six postcards): https://crowdfundr.com/queenwest After a string of ghastly mayors – each finding new depths of depravity, selfishness and mismanagement to plumb – Toronto just elected its first progressive mayor in a generation, the wonderful Olivia Chow, for whom I used to ring doorbells support of her city council campaigns: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/jun/27/olivia-chow-wins-election-as-torontos-first-chinese-canadian-mayor Anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. The enshittification of the old, good web continues apace, but there has never been more energy to build a new, good internet – and banish the enshitternet of Big Tech to the scrapheap of history. In the same way, Toronto's much eroded urbanism, pluralism and liveability are both at their lowest ebb in my lifetime – and also at their most hopeful moment of the century. In 1998, the dead-eyed Romneyoid Premier of Ontario Mike Harris "amalgamated" Toronto with its suburbs, putting it at the mercy of car-addled out-of-towners in an act of gerrymandering that all-but-guaranteed that city residents' political choices would be swamped by suburbanites who could be convinced to vote for laughable Tory bumblefucks like Rob Ford. Overcoming the gerrymander required a massive turnout – not merely a supermajority, but an ultramajority of politically motivated, organized, committed, pissed off Torontonians; Chow's election is a minor miracle that part of the wave of other historic reversals, like the DoJ awakening from its coma to drag Google into court on antitrust charges. We are a long way away from making a new, good internet that's a worthy successor to the old, good internet, and at least as far from a new, good Toronto that the people of the old, good Toronto would have built but for Tory wreckers and the Christmas-voting turkeys who elevated them to office. But both are possible – and both demand that we fight for them. Steele's beautiful photodocumentary of one slice of that old, good city doesn't just memorialize the world we lost – it is inspiration for a world that is ours to win. Hey look at this (permalink) Revealed: The Country that Secretly Wiretapped the World for the FBI https://www.404media.co/revealed-the-country-that-secretly-wiretapped-the-world-for-the-fbi/ (spoiler: Lithuania) Celebrating Ten Years of the Marrakesh Treaty https://www.copyright.gov/events/marrakesh-treaty-tenth-anniversary/ (h/t Proton411) Gilead Delayed Introduction Of New Version of HIV Drug, With Fewer Side Effects, Maximizing Its Patent Monopoly And Profits https://www.techdirt.com/2023/09/11/gilead-delayed-introduction-of-new-version-of-hiv-drug-with-fewer-side-effects-maximizing-its-patent-monopoly-and-profits/ This day in history (permalink) #15yrsago Little Brother in the New York Times https://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/14/books/review/Grossman-t.html #15yrsago Mounties review Tasers, conclude that they’re dangerous, misused and under-researched https://web.archive.org/web/20080917202538/http://www.cbc.ca/canada/british-columbia/story/2008/09/12/taser-review.html #15yrsago Mom accused of stealing daughter’s identity to attend highschool and become a cheerleader https://web.archive.org/web/20080916071716/http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5ipppcZU-H4xC9lQiAOQFSF-cfrdAD935H3G80 #15yrsago DHS: HOWTO stop (other governments’) creepy spooks from reading your hard drive and email https://web.archive.org/web/20080913005403/http://secure.wikileaks.org/wiki/US_DHS:_Foreign_Travel_Threat_Assessment:_Electronic_Communications_Vulnerabilities_2008 #10yrsago Feynman lectures as HTML https://www.feynmanlectures.caltech.edu/I_toc.html #10yrsago David Cameron appoints a Witchfinder General for copyright https://torrentfreak.com/uk-prime-minister-appoints-new-anti-piracy-enforcement-advisor-130913/ #10yrsago Google’s lobbyists go big on climate change denial, raise money for Inhofe & Competitive Enterprise Insitute https://memex.craphound.com/2013/09/13/googles-lobbyists-go-big-on-climate-change-denial-raise-money-for-inhofe-competitive-enterprise-insitute/ #10yrsago Chicago Mayor Rahm Emmanuel apologizes for decades of police torture https://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Justice/2013/0912/Chicago-Mayor-Rahm-Emanuel-apologizes-for-two-decades-of-police-torture #10yrsago Why fingerprints make lousy authentication tokens https://www.independent.co.uk/tech/iphone-5s-thieves-may-mutilate-owners-in-bid-to-gain-access-to-fingerprintreading-handsets-expert-warns-8808577.html #10yrsago Porno copyright trolls Malibu Media sanctioned by court for “extortionate” tactic https://www.techdirt.com/2013/09/11/copyright-troll-malibu-media-sanctioned-bogus-copyright-abuse-intimidation-tactic/ #10yrsago EFF’s guide to NSA reform bills https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2013/08/effs-cheat-sheet #10yrsago Doomed to repeat history: Kafkaesque FBI watchlist screwups of the 1940s https://www.muckrock.com/news/archives/2013/sep/11/tale-two-irvings-mistaken-identity-height-red-scar/ #10yrsago Cognitive blind-spots of Silicon Valley successes http://quarry.stanford.edu/xapm1111126lse/docs/02_LSE_Cognitive.pdf #5yrsago Mandalay Bay to mass-shooting survivors: we’ll donate $500 to charity if you stipulate that we’re suing you https://www.chicagotribune.com/business/ct-biz-mgm-las-vegas-lawsuit-donation-20180911-story.html #5yrsago This is the golden age of Chinese science fiction https://www.scmp.com/culture/books/article/2093892/science-fictions-new-golden-age-china-what-it-says-about-social #5yrsago Europe just voted to wreck the internet, spying on everything and censoring vast swathes of our communications https://memex.craphound.com/2018/09/12/europe-just-voted-to-wreck-the-internet-spying-on-everything-and-censoring-vast-swathes-of-our-communications/ #5yrsago Sony: OK, OK, we don’t own Bach https://www.eff.org/takedowns/sony-finally-admits-it-doesnt-own-bach-and-it-only-took-public-pressure #5yrsago Machine learning scientist quits Google over plan to launch censored Chinese search tool https://theintercept.com/2018/09/13/google-china-search-engine-employee-resigns/ #5yrsago Charter, ordered out of New York State, begs for its life https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2018/09/charter-negotiating-with-ny-to-avoid-being-kicked-out-of-the-state/ #5yrsago 20% of New York retail space is sitting vacant https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2018/09/06/nyregion/nyc-storefront-vacancy.html #5yrsago Viral road-rage video sparks mob violence in Beijing, revealing deep regional rifts https://www.whatsonweibo.com/fury-and-loathing-in-fengtai-how-one-incident-sparked-chaos-in-beijing-neighbourhood/ #5yrsago Six years ago, North Carolina Republicans passed a law decreeing that the seas weren’t rising https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2018/sep/12/north-carolina-didnt-like-science-on-sea-levels-so-passed-a-law-against-it #5yrsago How anarchist organizers in rural Puerto Rico rebooted their power grid after the privatized power company abandoned them https://www.newsweek.com/puerto-ricans-restore-power-after-hurricane-maria-1114070 #5yrsago “Spread Pricing” transparency reveals the millions CVS rakes in by gouging Medicare and prisons on prescription markups https://www.bloomberg.com/graphics/2018-drug-spread-pricing/ #5yrsago Trade negotiators are increasingly unwilling to entertain “corporate sovereignty” clauses https://www.techdirt.com/2018/09/13/corporate-sovereignty-wane-as-governments-realize-more-trouble-than-worth/ #1yrago Survival of the Richest: Douglas Rushkoff on the eschatology of libertarian exit https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/13/collapse-porn/#collapse-porn #1yrago Spotify steals from artists, a Spotify exclusive https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing Colophon (permalink) Today's top sources: Currently writing: A Little Brother short story about DIY insulin PLANNING Picks and Shovels, a Martin Hench noir thriller about the heroic era of the PC. FORTHCOMING TOR BOOKS JAN 2025 The Bezzle, a Martin Hench noir thriller novel about the prison-tech industry. FORTHCOMING TOR BOOKS FEB 2024 Vigilant, Little Brother short story about remote invigilation. FORTHCOMING ON TOR.COM Moral Hazard, a short story for MIT Tech Review's 12 Tomorrows. FIRST DRAFT COMPLETE, ACCEPTED FOR PUBLICATION Spill, a Little Brother short story about pipeline protests. FORTHCOMING ON TOR.COM Latest podcast: The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation (audiobook outtake) https://craphound.com/news/2023/08/01/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation-audiobook-outtake/ Upcoming appearances: EFF Awards (San Francisco), Sept 14 https://www.eff.org/awards/effawards/2023 DIG Festival (Modena, Italy), Sept 22 https://dig-awards.org/en/dig-festival-2023-first-speakers-announced/ Launch for "The Internet Con" and Brian Merchant's "Blood in the Machine," Chevalier's Books (LA), Sept 27 https://www.eventbrite.com/e/the-internet-con-by-cory-doctorow-blood-in-the-machine-by-brian-merchant-tickets-696349940417 An Evening with VE Schwab (Boise), Oct 2 https://www.thecabinidaho.org/all-events/ve-schwab Wired Nextfest (Milano), Oct 7-8 https://eventi.wired.it/nextfest23-milano 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing keynote (Minneapolis), Oct 16 https://cscw.acm.org/2023/index.php/keynotes/ Seizing the Means of Computation (Edinburgh Futures Institute), Oct 25 https://efi.ed.ac.uk/event/seizing-the-means-of-computation-with-cory-doctorow/ Recent appearances: Sci-fi and Amazon's empire (The Workers' Speculative Society) https://soundcloud.com/reimaginevalue/doctorow An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification and Throw It Into Reverse (Defcon 31) https://media.defcon.org/DEF%20CON%2031/DEF%20CON%2031%20video%20and%20slides/DEF%20CON%2031%20-%20An%20Audacious%20Plan%20to%20Halt%20the%20Internet%27s%20Enshittification%20-%20Cory%20Doctorow.mp4 Life Doesn’t Have to Zuck (Bungacast) https://bungacast.podbean.com/e/362-life-doesn-t-have-to-zuck-ft-cory-doctorow/ Latest books: The Internet Con: A nonfiction book about interoperability and Big Tech (Verso) September 2023 (http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org). Signed copies at Book Soup (https://www.booksoup.com/book/9781804291245). "Red Team Blues": "A grabby, compulsive thriller that will leave you knowing more about how the world works than you did before." Tor Books http://redteamblues.com. Signed copies at Dark Delicacies (US): and Forbidden Planet (UK): https://forbiddenplanet.com/385004-red-team-blues-signed-edition-hardcover/. "Chokepoint Capitalism: How to Beat Big Tech, Tame Big Content, and Get Artists Paid, with Rebecca Giblin", on how to unrig the markets for creative labor, Beacon Press/Scribe 2022 https://chokepointcapitalism.com "Attack Surface": The third Little Brother novel, a standalone technothriller for adults. The Washington Post called it "a political cyberthriller, vigorous, bold and savvy about the limits of revolution and resistance." Order signed, personalized copies from Dark Delicacies https://www.darkdel.com/store/p1840/Available_Now%3A_Attack_Surface.html "How to Destroy Surveillance Capitalism": an anti-monopoly pamphlet analyzing the true harms of surveillance capitalism and proposing a solution. https://onezero.medium.com/how-to-destroy-surveillance-capitalism-8135e6744d59 (print edition: https://bookshop.org/books/how-to-destroy-surveillance-capitalism/9781736205907) (signed copies: https://www.darkdel.com/store/p2024/Available_Now%3A__How_to_Destroy_Surveillance_Capitalism.html) "Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a new introduction by Edward Snowden: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250774583; personalized/signed copies here: https://www.darkdel.com/store/p1750/July%3A__Little_Brother_%26_Homeland.html "Poesy the Monster Slayer" a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627. Get a personalized, signed copy here: https://www.darkdel.com/store/p2682/Corey_Doctorow%3A_Poesy_the_Monster_Slayer_HB.html#/. Upcoming books: The Lost Cause: a post-Green New Deal eco-topian novel about truth and reconciliation with white nationalist militias, Tor Books, November 2023 The Bezzle: a sequel to "Red Team Blues," about prison-tech and other grifts, Tor Books, February 2024 This work – excluding any serialized fiction – is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. That means you can use it any way you like, including commercially, provided that you attribute it to me, Cory Doctorow, and include a link to pluralistic.net. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Quotations and images are not included in this license; they are included either under a limitation or exception to copyright, or on the basis of a separate license. Please exercise caution. How to get Pluralistic: Blog (no ads, tracking, or data-collection): Pluralistic.net Newsletter (no ads, tracking, or data-collection): https://pluralistic.net/plura-list Mastodon (no ads, tracking, or data-collection): https://mamot.fr/@pluralistic Medium (no ads, paywalled): https://doctorow.medium.com/ (Latest Medium column: "The proletarianization of tech workers: If there is hope, it is in the proles. https://doctorow.medium.com/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers-ad0a6b09f7e6) Twitter (mass-scale, unrestricted, third-party surveillance and advertising): https://twitter.com/doctorow Tumblr (mass-scale, unrestricted, third-party surveillance and advertising): https://mostlysignssomeportents.tumblr.com/tagged/pluralistic "When life gives you SARS, you make sarsaparilla" -Joey "Accordion Guy" DeVilla https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/13/spadina-to-bathurst/

[thedailymobile]

“Jagged Little Sills”

© EricBrazier.com

[phantom-of-the-apartment]

[the-elusive-writer]

Following the sun 😌✨

[teamnefarious]

299 Queen Street West Has Been Revived

Photo Courtesy of Sean Menard

299 Queen Street West used to be a place loved by thousands in Canada. It was the place where MuchMusic took off and ended up taking on MTV. MuchMusic became a household name in Canada where you could get new, innovative shows about music. They specifically highlighted Canadian artists.

But like most things this place was taken over by corporations and is now a shell of itself.

Sean Menard grew up watching MuchMusic like the rest of us. He was even on one of their shows as a fan at one point called Electric Circus where you would have fans dancing to songs.

That was the magic of this station. They would have an entire show where fans could come and dance to their favorite songs to get people interested in music.

Menard has since grown up and has decided to tell the story of 299 Queen Street West which was the location of MuchMusic. He was granted access to their entire archives.

The film starts out at the very beginnings. When they would film in the control room and talk about music. He showed the entire transformation of this station into what it became from it's humble beginnings.

The film touches on a lot of it's most popular VJ's and interviews. And showed the exact reason everyone loved them.

MuchMusic would open their doors to the public and have the streets shut down so people could watch performances from live artists. Menard showed a lot of these amazing performances.

He showed the entire evolution of the channel and the shows on it.

The documentary itself is very good. It's put together well with some really nice voice overs from the more popular VJ's. During the screening tour for this, he brought out some of the main stars of the movie, Rick Campanelli and Erica Ehm.

During the Q&A after the movie Menard let everyone know that there are studios and record labels trying to get the movie's release completely shut down due to the music he shows in it even though MuchMusic granted access to their archives. He is covered under fair use of course and had permission to make this movie, so hopefully this doesn't get shut down so more people can experience the magic of MuchMusic one more time.

If we had one suggestion it would be to have included some of the other VJ's and personalities that were left out.

Overall, we loved this documentary and it felt really nostalgic and magical to experience this all over again.

[makeagif]

More with Rihanna and ASAP Rocky in West Hollywood.

[rabbitcruiser]

Los Angeles was founded as El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora La Reina de los Ángeles de Porciúncula (The Village of Our Lady, the Queen of the Angels of Porziuncola) by 44 Spanish settlers on September 4, 1781.

[uglyandtraveling]

Welcome to another adventure on my channel! Join me as I take a leisurely springtime stroll through one of Toronto's most vibrant areas – the Discovery District. In this vlog, we'll wander along Discovery District, soaking in the sights and sounds of spring. From blooming flowers and bustling streets to the stunning architecture and lively atmosphere, there's so much to see and experience.

[marvinjob]

194 Queen Street West

[concoursedentalgroup]

Concourse Dental Group - Dr. Samira Jaffer

Located in the heart of downtown Toronto, Concourse Dental Group stands in the Thomson Building, directly across Queen Street from Toronto City Hall. Led by Dr. Samira Jaffer, a respected graduate of the University of Toronto's Faculty of Dentistry (1983), the clinic has been delivering superior dental care for more than 20 years. Dr. Jaffer is renowned for her dedication to patients, building lasting relationships and contributing to their oral health with personalized and meticulous care. The clinic's prime location and commitment to fostering long-term dental well-being make it a trusted choice for dental services in Toronto.

Dentist Downtown Toronto Ontario

[mssalo]

ma'am

Joel Miller’s spent a lifetime in control, but under your confident lead, he’s discovered just how good it feels to let go. As your right-hand man in Jackson, he’s desperate to please, finding himself worshiping you in ways he’s never dared before—and loving every filthy second of it.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sub!Joel, dom!f!reader, oral (male and female receiving), nipple play (SUCKING JOEL’S NIPPLES like he deserves), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, desperation kink, Joel whimpering, explicit sexual content, mutual devotion, protective partnership, reader is emotionally supportive but firm, Joel finds comfort in being cared for (he’s babygirl) and Joel being so far gone it’s frankly adorable.

11k. enjoy.

part two: after hours

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel Miller had always been the guy people turned to when things needed fixing—whether it was a busted fence, a tough decision, or clearing out a horde of infected, he was the dependable one. The solid one. The man who got things done without flinching.

But with you, it was different.

You weren’t like anyone else in Jackson. You’d arrived last winter, stepping into the town’s bustling life like you’d always belonged, and somehow, you’d made it your own. 

People respected you—trusted you—not because you demanded it, but because you commanded it. You were sharp, resourceful, and unshakably confident. 

Joel couldn’t decide if you reminded him of a soldier or a queen, but either way, it made his chest tighten every time you spoke.

It started innocently enough.

“Joel, we need these supplies moved to the north gate before sundown,” you said one day, standing by the depot, that calm, no-nonsense tone that made Joel’s stomach flip.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied without thinking, the words slipping out as easily as breathing.

You’d looked up, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Didn’t peg you for the ‘yes ma’am’ type,” you teased lightly, your lips curving into that small, knowing smile.

Joel had flushed, shifting on his feet like a boy caught stealing. “Guess it’s just… habit.”

You didn’t push, just nodded and turned back, but Joel couldn’t get the moment out of his head.

Something about the way you spoke to him—firm but never condescending, confident but never overbearing—lit something inside him he hadn’t felt in years. 

Respect, maybe. Or something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous.

The more months you worked together, the worse it got for him.

“Joel, grab the shotgun and cover me,” you ordered one day, crouched behind a rusted-out truck as infected skittered through the woods ahead. Your voice was steady, even in the heat of the moment, and Joel’s chest swelled as he followed your lead without question.

Another time, while patrolling the perimeter, you had said, “Check the west side at dusk. Let me know if anything’s out of place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel had answered automatically, his voice softer, almost reverent.

You didn’t always notice how easily he fell into step with you, how much he craved the way you trusted him to follow through. 

But Joel noticed. Every damn time. 

And it wasn’t just respect—though that was there too—it was something raw and magnetic. Something that made his chest tighten and his cock stir in ways that left him fumbling for composure.

It wasn’t just the way you spoke. It was the way you carried yourself. The way you moved through the world with confidence that was effortless, never forced. 

You weren’t trying to prove anything to anyone—you just were. You called the shots when they needed calling, and people listened, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

Joel wanted to. And more than that, he liked it.

One night, it all came to a head.

Jackson was quiet, the streets bathed in the soft glow of lanterns strung between buildings. Joel was walking back from the stables when he spotted you on the porch of the town hall, a map spread across the railing in front of you. 

The way the light hit your face, catching on your jawline and softening your features, made his chest ache.

“Joel,” you called, your voice slicing through the stillness like a blade.

He froze for half a second before making his way over, his boots crunching softly on the gravel. 

His pulse quickened as he got closer, his eyes darting over you—your loose hair falling over one shoulder, the curve of your wrist as you held the edge of the map, the faint furrow in your brow that he desperately wanted to smooth away.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his. “Come take a look at this,” you said, motioning him closer.

Joel stepped up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he looked at the map.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, and Joel had to force himself to focus on what you were pointing at—a marked spot near the riverbank.

“Been seeing signs of movement out here the past couple nights,” you explained. “Could be nothing, but I want to clear it tomorrow. Need someone to back me up. You in?”

“Always,” Joel said immediately, his voice quieter than he intended but no less firm. His fingers brushed yours as he took the map, and he swore he felt a spark.

You smiled then—just a small curve of your lips—but it sent heat rushing through Joel’s chest. “Good. Be ready at dawn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel murmured before he could stop himself.

Your brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in your expression. “You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks warming. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, his gaze sliding to the ground. “Suits you.”

Your smile widened just enough to make his heart stumble. “If you say so.”

With that, you folded the map, tucked it under your arm, and disappeared into the town hall, leaving Joel standing there like a damn fool, his chest tight and his jeans uncomfortably snug. 

He swore under his breath, adjusting his stance in a futile attempt to ease the ache building low in his belly.

It wasn’t fair. 

The way you got under his skin without even trying. The way you made him feel… lighter and heavier all at once. 

Joel had spent his whole life being the one people leaned on, the one who carried the weight, and for once, he didn’t mind letting someone else take the reins. 

Hell, he wanted to. 

He wanted to follow you, to listen to you, to give you every ounce of control you asked for.

Joel stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door of the town hall long after you’d gone inside. 

His pulse pounded in his ears, the ache in his jeans growing unbearable as his mind replayed the last few moments—the way your voice curled around his name, the subtle command in your tone when you told him to be ready, the approving smile that lingered on your lips when he’d answered.

It was ridiculous, he thought bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was a grown man, for Christ’s sake, and yet here he was, rock-hard in the middle of Jackson like some lovesick idiot. 

His cock throbbed against the tight denim of his jeans, a constant, humiliating reminder of how badly he wanted you—how badly he needed you.

Joel swallowed hard, adjusting himself as subtly as he could manage, though the motion sent a shiver of frustration through him. 

This was nothing new. 

Every time he was around you, it was like his body betrayed him, reacting to the sound of your voice, the sway of your hips, the smallest flick of your wrist as you gestured for him to follow.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you.

The way you carried yourself, confident and composed, made his chest tighten in ways that were equal parts admiration and raw, aching need.

You were everything Joel wasn’t. Steady. Collected. In control. And fuck if he didn’t crave that about you.

More than anything, he craved the way you made him feel. Like he could just… let go.

The thought sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his cock, and Joel bit back a groan, his hand clenching at his side. 

He’d spent years—decades—being the man people turned to, the one who handled the tough shit without complaint.

But with you? He didn’t want to be the guy in charge. 

He wanted to be the one following orders, wanted to be the one looking up at you, waiting for your approval. 

He wanted to make you proud. 

To hear you say his name the way you had earlier, with that faint hint of amusement, like you saw something in him that no one else ever had.

Goddamn it, he was pathetic.

Joel shook his head, muttering a low curse under his breath as he turned away from the town hall. 

The walk back to his house felt like a blur, his thoughts too tangled to focus on anything but you. 

Every step sent a dull throb through his cock, and by the time he reached his front door, his hands were trembling, his jaw tight with restraint.

Inside, Joel leaned heavily against the door, the cool wood pressing into his back as he exhaled shakily. His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, the pounding of his heart loud in the stillness of the house. 

The faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots reminded him he wasn’t dreaming, though he almost wished he were—wished the memory of you wasn’t so vivid it set his whole body on fire.

His jacket slid from his shoulders and hung limply on the hook by the door, but the ritual did little to calm him. 

His hand lingered against the fabric, fingers gripping tightly for a moment as though holding on to it might anchor him. But there was no escape—not from the way you lingered in his thoughts, the way your voice echoed in his ears like a melody he couldn’t shake.

C’mere, Joel. I need you to check this.

C’mere, Joel….

The words played on repeat, the confidence in your tone, the subtle curve of authority behind every syllable. 

The way you’d glanced at him tonight, your eyes catching his for just a second longer than necessary—it was enough to drive him insane. 

Joel groaned softly, the sound rough and guttural as he pressed the heel of his palm against the stiff, aching bulge in his jeans.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as if that might clear it. But it didn’t. It never did. He’d thought about you like this too many times to count. 

Late at night, alone in the dark, his fist slick and tight around his cock, imagining you leaning over him, your voice a breathy, commanding whisper.

“Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

It was the praise that undid him every time, the approval he ached for, that soft edge of control in your voice that made his chest tighten and his hips buck into his hand. 

Joel’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as he pushed off the door, his steps hurried and uneven as he made his way toward the bedroom. 

His body was hot, his skin flushed as he kicked the door shut behind him and leaned against it, his breath coming fast and shallow.

He didn’t bother with the lights. There was no point when the image of you burned so brightly in his mind.

His hands fumbled with his belt, the leather sliding free with a sharp hiss before he shoved his jeans down his thighs, kicking them aside. 

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

Joel wrapped his calloused fingers around himself, his rough palm dragging slowly along the length as his head tipped back against the door. 

A soft, broken groan escaped his lips, and he tightened his grip, savoring the sharp sensation.

“Yes,” Joel whispered hoarsely, his hips jerking into his hand as the thought took hold.

The image was so vivid it made his knees weak.

“On your knees, Joel. Let me see how much you want it.”

He imagined you standing over him, your hands on your hips, your lips curved into that wicked, knowing smile.

You’d look down at him like you owned him, and Joel would crumble beneath that gaze, his body desperate to obey.

His hand moved faster, his strokes rougher as his chest heaved. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick and broken. “I’d do it. Anything you want, darlin’. Just… just fuckin’ tell me.”

And then, there was the fantasy he couldn’t shake. You’d guide him down—your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him hiss as you tilted his face up toward yours.

“You want to make me feel good, baby? Show me.” You’d press his face between your thighs, your warmth surrounding him, and Joel would lose himself.

He could almost feel it—the softness of your skin, the slick heat of your cunt against his lips. His tongue would trace slow, deliberate circles around your clit, savoring the way your body trembled beneath his mouth. 

You’d moan his name, your voice breathy and broken, and it would be the only thing he cared about.

Joel groaned loudly, his hips jerking off the door as his hand tightened, the slick sound filling the room. “Please,” he rasped, his voice shaking. “Please, darlin’. Let me be good for you. Let me—”

He imagined you grinding against his face, your thighs clenching around his head as you guided him, demanding more. “That’s it, Joel. Just like that. Don’t stop until I come, baby.”

The thought of your approval, of hearing you call him a good boy as he worked tirelessly to please you, made his cock throb painfully in his hand. “I’d do it,” he muttered hoarsely. “I’d fuckin’ worship you, darlin’. Just say the word.”

The tension snapped, his body locking up as his release hit. Hot, thick spurts spilled over his hand, his voice breaking into a low, guttural groan as his hips jerked helplessly. 

Your name fell from his lips, raw and reverent, as the pleasure coursed through him, leaving him trembling and spent.

For a long moment, Joel stood there, his chest heaving, his hand still wrapped loosely around his softening cock. 

The air was thick with the scent of his arousal, the evidence of his need dripping onto the floor, and yet all he could think about was you. Your voice, your smile, the way you made him feel like he could let go of everything and just… be.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he finally pushed off the door and reached for a towel. 

He cleaned himself up quickly, his thoughts still tangled, his body still thrumming with the remnants of his release. But even as the tension faded, the ache lingered—the desperate, aching need for you.

For your voice. For your touch. For your approval.

And Joel knew he’d never stop wanting it. Never stop wanting you.

Because this wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not until he had you.

Not until he could hear you say his name the way he’d always dreamed, soft and breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders as you told him exactly what to do.

· · ───

The sun was barely cresting the horizon as you and Joel set out toward the riverbank, the chilly morning air biting at your cheeks. Joel kept a steady pace beside you, his rifle slung across his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dense treeline with practiced precision.

Despite the tension that always came with patrols, there was a comfort in your presence—a grounding force that he couldn’t quite put into words.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, familiar and steady, and Joel found himself stealing glances at you more than he should.

You walked with such assuredness, each step purposeful, and the soft sway of your hips had him swallowing harder than necessary.

He tried to focus, but your commanding presence made it impossible not to feel both overwhelmed and grounded.

“See this?” you murmured, crouching near a patch of disturbed dirt. Your voice was low, clipped, yet patient as you gestured for him to come closer. “Looks like someone’s been through here recently. More than one.”

Joel crouched beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he examined the ground.

The way your hair caught the morning light, the subtle curve of your neck—it was too much. His chest tightened as he forced his gaze to the dirt and away from the way your lips parted slightly in concentration.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than intended. “Could be raiders.”

“Could be,” you agreed, straightening and adjusting the strap of your pack. “Let’s keep moving. Stay sharp.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel said before he could stop himself, the words slipping out instinctively.

You glanced at him, one brow arching, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips.

You turned without a word, leading the way through the uneven terrain. Joel followed close behind, his pulse quickening with every step. 

You always had this effect on him, like you were a magnet and he couldn’t help but be pulled in.

The ambush came fast. 

Raiders poured from the treeline, their weapons raised, shouts breaking the morning quiet. 

Joel moved on instinct, diving behind a fallen log and returning fire, but it was you who commanded the chaos with sharp, decisive orders.

“Joel! Left flank! Cover me!”

He obeyed without question, his rifle steady as he took down one of the raiders attempting to circle around. 

Even in the heat of the moment, his eyes kept darting to you—how you moved like a ghost through the underbrush, your aim deadly, your composure unshaken.

But when one of them charged at your blind spot, Joel didn’t think. He moved.

The gunshot echoed like thunder as he dropped the man with a single shot. 

You spun to face him, your eyes wide—not with fear but with something else. Relief? Gratitude? Whatever it was, it made his chest swell.

“Thanks,” you said, your tone steady despite the chaos. “But I told you—stay back.”

Joel gritted his teeth but nodded, ducking back behind cover as you finished off the last of the raiders. 

When the dust settled, you stood amidst the wreckage, your rifle slung over your shoulder, your expression calm but sharp. 

You scanned the area one last time before nodding.

“We’re clear,” you said, turning toward him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, though his arm burned where a bullet had grazed him. 

He shifted, trying to hide the blood seeping through his sleeve.

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re hit.”

“It’s nothin’,” he muttered, brushing it off.

“It’s not nothing,” you snapped, stepping closer. Your hand grabbed his arm, firm but not harsh. “We’re done here. You’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

Joel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I can keep goin’. I’m fine.”

You tilted your head, the corners of your lips pulling into a wry, almost dangerous smile. 

“Joel,” you said, your voice low but laced with authority that sent a shiver down his spine. “Do I look like I’m asking?”

Joel swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice quieter this time, almost reverent.

“Good.” Your fingers lingered on his arm for just a second longer than necessary, the heat of your touch branding him, before you turned toward the horses. “Let’s move.”

At the clinic, Joel sat on the cot, his shirt discarded, the gash on his arm raw and angry. He winced as the doctor worked, stitching the wound with quick precision. 

But his eyes weren’t on the needle or the thread—they were on you, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed, your expression unreadable.

“You’ll need to rest for at least a couple days,” the doctor said, tying off the final stitch. “No patrols, no heavy lifting.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue, but your sharp glance silenced him immediately.

“Got it,” you said curtly, nodding at the doctor. “Thank you.”

When the doctor left, you turned to Joel, your arms dropping to your sides as you stepped closer. “Let’s get you home.”

Back at his house, you guided him inside, your hand on his arm, your touch firm and steady. 

Joel sank onto the couch with a groan, his body heavier than he wanted to admit. You moved with purpose, disappearing into the kitchen before reappearing with a damp cloth and a glass of water.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but you cut him off with a look that had him snapping his mouth shut.

“Let me,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

You knelt beside him, pressing the cloth gently to his arm. Joel swallowed hard, his breath catching at the sight of you so close, your fingers brushing against his skin.

The faint scent of you—clean and sharp, with a hint of something sweet—filled his senses, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out.

When you finished, you sat back on your heels, your eyes meeting his. “Joel,” you said softly, “why do you push yourself so hard?”

Joel looked away, his jaw tightening. “Don’t wanna feel useless,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna… be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” you said firmly, leaning closer, your voice carrying a weight that made Joel’s chest ache. “You’re the furthest thing from it.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, his breath catching at the intensity in your gaze. “I just…” He hesitated, his voice breaking. “I just wanna be good for you. Wanna make you proud.”

You tilted your head, a slow, knowing smile curving your lips.

“You already are, Joel,” you murmured, reaching out to cup his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and Joel leaned into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Joel’s breath was uneven, his good hand curling into a fist on his thigh as he struggled to find the words.

You sat beside him on the couch, quiet and steady, your eyes on his face, your expression calm yet unreadable. It only made him more frantic.

“I—I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” Joel stammered, his voice rough and breaking. 

He rubbed a hand over his face, his palm trembling slightly as if he was trying to physically hold himself together.

“I need… I need you close. I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, but I—I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t speak. You just nodded slowly, your gaze unwavering, and it made him feel both exposed and comforted all at once. The tension in his chest was unbearable.

“I—dammit,” he muttered, his voice thick, his gaze darting everywhere but your face.

“I’m tryin’ to say it right, but I don’t—I can’t—I need you, alright? I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. About how you—how you’re always so damn steady, and you—”

He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes finally locking on yours. They were glassy now, his vulnerability laid bare. “You make it easier, y’know? Just bein’ around you… I feel like I can breathe. Like maybe I ain’t so—so broken after all. And I… I need that. I need you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into the faintest smile. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t pitying. It was understanding, warm, and Joel swore it made his chest ache even more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, the endearment sending a shiver down his spine. “You like me…romantically?”

Joel froze for a moment, his breath catching as your words settled over him. His lips parted, but all he could do was nod, the movement small and jerky, like he was afraid to admit it outright.

“Want to be good for me?” you asked, your voice a low, soothing hum.

Joel’s nod came faster this time, his breathing growing heavier as he leaned into you, desperate for something he couldn’t quite name.

You leaned in slowly, cupping his face with one hand, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble along his jaw. 

Joel’s eyes fluttered shut as you pressed your lips to his, soft and lingering, and the low, guttural sound he made against your mouth was filled with need. 

His hand reached out, gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you, and his lips parted under yours, seeking more.

But just as he leaned into the kiss, you pulled back, your face still close enough that your breath mingled with his.

“Get better for me first, yeah?” you murmured, your thumb trailing along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes snapped open, his brows furrowing as he shook his head. “No, please,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate. 

“Please, I can’t—I’ve been waitin’ for so long. Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

You shushed him softly, your fingers sliding through his hair, and Joel practically melted under your touch, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself back.

“You’ll wait,” you said firmly, though your tone was still warm. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not about to let you go. But first, I need you strong, Joel. Need you rested. Yeah?”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he nodded, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Alright. But just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

“Well…you know me, baby,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the crown of his head.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as if to prove to himself that you were real. And as the weight of the moment settled between you, he felt something he hadn’t in years—peace.

· · ───

Joel had never been good at resting, but being sidelined for days was pure torture.

His arm still kinda ached where the stitches pulled at the edges of the wound, but the pain was nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety that came from not seeing you. 

Three days felt like a lifetime, and every hour that passed without you made his chest feel tighter.

You’d been on patrol since the crack of dawn, and Joel had spent most of the day pacing around his house, every creak of the floorboards setting his nerves on edge. 

He hadn’t wanted to push his luck with the doctor or you, so he’d stayed home, but the absence of your presence was like a physical ache.

He’d heard the patrol schedule—you were checking the area near the riverbank, where the raiders had been sighted. 

The thought of you out there, alone or with someone who wasn’t him, made his stomach churn.

Joel knew you could handle yourself—he’d seen it firsthand—but the idea of you in danger without him there to back you up was unbearable.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Joel couldn’t take it anymore. 

His boots thudded against the wooden floors as he grabbed his jacket and rifle, the pain in his arm be damned.

If he didn’t see you soon, he was going to lose his mind.

The gates of Jackson were quiet, the air cool and crisp as Joel made his way toward the watchtower. A few guards gave him curious glances, but no one stopped him. He wasn’t exactly known for staying out of trouble, injured or not.

“Have you seen her?” Joel asked one of the guards at the gate, his voice gruff.

“Think she’s still out near the west ridge,” the man replied, tilting his hat back. “They were due back an hour ago, though.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. An hour ago. His grip on his rifle tightened as he set off toward the west ridge, his boots crunching against the gravel.

The relief was like a flood when he spotted you in the distance, your silhouette unmistakable against the fading light.

You were walking back toward the gates, your pack slung over your shoulder, your rifle in hand. Joel’s breath hitched at the sight of you, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel barked, his voice harsher than he intended as he reached you.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his tone. “Patrol. Where I said I’d be.”

“You were late,” Joel muttered, his gaze sweeping over you, searching for any sign of injury. “Anything happen out there?”

“Couple of runners,” you replied, brushing past him toward the gate. “Nothing bad.”

Joel followed you, his chest tight as he struggled to find the right words. “You could’ve sent word. Let someone know you were runnin’ behind.”

You turned to face him then, your eyes sharp. “Joel, I’m fine. I’m more worried about why you’re out here when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“I was worried about you,” Joel admitted, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Didn’t like not knowin’ if you were okay.”

Your expression softened, and you let out a quiet sigh. “Joel, I told you I’d be back.”

“And what if somethin’ had happened?” Joel pressed, his voice growing rough. “What if—” He stopped, his jaw clenching as he looked away.

You stepped closer, your hand resting gently on his arm. “Hey,” you said softly, your tone soothing. “I’m here. I’m okay. And you need to trust that I can take care of myself.”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the steadiness in your gaze. “I know you can,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna worry.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his arm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Joel huffed a laugh, the sound low and rough. “Ain’t what I meant, but… yeah, take it how you want.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him toward the gate. “Let’s get you home. You’re not supposed to be out here.”

Joel wanted to argue, but the warmth in your voice and the steady grip on his arm made it impossible.

He let you guide him back toward his house, the tension in his chest slowly unwinding with every step.

The walk back to Joel’s house was quiet at first, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm. But as you neared the porch, Joel’s tongue loosened, and the floodgates opened.

“What was it like out there today? Was it quiet before the runners? Were they close? You eat somethin’? Drink enough water?”

You chuckled softly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Joel, I’m fine. I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his steps faltering slightly as you led him inside. “Just… can’t stop thinkin’ about it. About you. Out there without me.”

His voice was rough, his words tumbling out so quickly he barely had time to filter them. “I mean, I know you’re capable—hell, more than capable—but I wasn’t there, and… I hate not bein’ there.”

You stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face him. Joel’s eyes darted over you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, his breathing uneven, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“You’re rambling, Joel,” you said softly, your voice calm and steady as you reached up to cup his cheek.

Joel froze, his breath hitching at your touch, his wide eyes locking onto yours. “I just…” he began, his voice faltering. “I just—”

“Hush,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “I’m here. I’m fine. And I’m not going anywhere for another 4 days.”

Joel exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch like a man starved. “I know,” he rasped. “I know, but I can’t stop—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips soft and warm against his, and Joel melted beneath it, his whole body going taut before he relaxed into the moment. 

His hands found your hips, tentative at first, then firm, gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear.

When you pulled back, his lips chased yours for a heartbeat before he caught himself, his eyes fluttering open. He looked dazed, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide as he stared at you.

You smiled softly, the sound of his uneven breathing filling the space between you.

Joel’s lips parted as if to speak, but before he could, you leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time. His groan was low and deep, the kind that seemed to come from the very center of him, vibrating through your chest.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his need unmistakable.

When your lips parted and your tongue brushed against his, Joel whimpered—a sound so desperate, so raw, it sent a rush of heat straight through you.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly into the kiss, and Joel’s grip faltered for a second, his lips pulling into a shaky smile against yours.

“Why’re you laughin’?” he asked, his voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’re eager,” you teased, your hands sliding to his shoulders, feeling the strength there. “It’s sweet.”

Joel groaned again, his cheeks flushing as his hands smoothed up your sides. “Can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “You’re drivin’ me crazy, darlin’. Been thinkin’ about this for too long.”

His gaze dropped, and his eyes darkened as they settled on the curve of your breasts, visible through the gap in your blouse.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hands twitching like he wanted to touch but didn’t dare without permission. “You’re perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you ran your fingers along his jaw. “Joel,” you said, your tone firmer now, and he immediately snapped his gaze back up to meet yours, his breath hitching. “What are you lookin’ at?”

His cheeks went even redder, but he didn’t look away.

Your lips quirked into a sly smile, and you reached up to unbutton the top of your blouse slowly, deliberately. Joel’s eyes tracked every movement, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his cock straining visibly against his jeans.

“You’ve healed up, huh?” you asked, your tone playful, and Joel nodded quickly, his hands shaking slightly.

“Barely feel it,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, darlin’. Please let me—”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head as you pushed the blouse from your shoulders, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“Go ahead, Joel,” you said, your voice steady but laced with heat. “If you think you can handle it.”

Joel groaned, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you flush against him as his mouth crashed into yours.

His kisses were messy, desperate, his lips sliding against yours like he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed your body, shaky but reverent, sliding up your ribs and hovering just below your chest.

“Eager little thing,” you murmured against his mouth, and Joel whimpered at the words, his hips pressing against yours as his arousal became undeniable.

“Can’t help it,” he breathed, his voice shaky and desperate. “Been wantin’ to get my mouth on you for so long. Wanna lick every inch of you. Fuck, those pretty nipples—been dyin’ to suck on ‘em, darlin’. Let me taste you, please.”

The way his voice cracked, the way he clung to you—it was enough to make your resolve waver. But you weren’t going to let him get off that easily. Not yet.

“Bed,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to guide him toward the bedroom. Joel followed without hesitation, his hands still on you, his body trembling with barely-contained need.

“Sit down, baby,” you murmured, your voice firm but teasing as you pushed him gently onto the mattress.

Joel sat immediately, lips wet and swollen from your kisses, his pupils blown wide as he stared up at you like you were a goddess he was desperate to worship.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking to your chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You stepped between his legs, running your hands up his thighs, feeling the way they trembled under your touch.

“Is this what you’ve been dreamin’ about, Joel?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in close. “Me, standin’ over you like this, lettin’ you look your fill?”

Joel groaned, his head tipping back as his hips jerked involuntarily. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Every night, darlin’. I—fuck—I think about you all the time. Can’t stop.”

You smirked, running your hands higher until your fingers brushed against the hard, throbbing bulge straining beneath his jeans. Joel’s breath hitched, his hips lifting slightly as if to chase your touch.

“Bet you’ve been strokin’ that cock to the thought of me, haven’t you?” you purred, your nails scraping lightly along his thighs.

“Thinking about my tits, my mouth, wonderin’ what it’d feel like to have me all over you?”

Joel let out a broken whimper, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as he nodded. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Fuck, yes. I think about you all the time—Drives me crazy.”

You laughed softly, Joel’s eyes focused, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of you, his gaze zeroing in on your breasts, the way your nipples pebbled in the cool air.

You reached up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them lightly, your thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Wanna taste them, baby? Wanna feel my tits in your mouth?”

Joel groaned loudly, his hands clenching into fists as his cock strained painfully against his jeans. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, let me—fuck, let me taste them."

You smirked, stepping closer and guiding his hands to your hips. “Go on then, baby,” you murmured, leaning in until your chest was level with his face. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. His hands slid up to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples with a desperate groan. 

His lips were hot and eager, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud before he sucked it into his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. “Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

Joel whimpered against your skin, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently as he switched to your other nipple. His tongue worked in slow, deliberate strokes, his lips tugging and sucking as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Finally” he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but no less desperate.

You chuckled softly, grinding your hips against his lap, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing against your thigh. “You’re so needy,” you teased, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “Can’t even keep your hands to yourself, can you?”

Joel shook his head, his mouth still attached to your nipple as he let out a low, guttural moan. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly as he rocked against you, his cock throbbing beneath the rough denim of his jeans.

“Can’t help it,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “You’re all I think about. All I want.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Then be a good boy for me, Joel,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “Keep sucking.”

Joel groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as his lips moved back to your breast, sucking and licking with renewed fervor. His hips bucked against yours, his need spilling out in every touch, every sound.

“You like these, baby?” you murmured, cupping your breast and brushing your thumb over your wet, glistening nipples. “My sweet boy likes them, hm?”

Joel froze for a moment, his pupils dilating as the meaning of your words sank in. His hips bucked sharply, and he let out a strangled moan, his whole body trembling beneath you.

“Fuck, I-,” he groaned, his voice cracking as his head fell back against the headboard. “Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry—I can’t… I’m—fuck!”

You felt the unmistakable heat and dampness spreading as Joel’s hips jerked one last time, his moans spilling into the quiet room. His face flushed a deep red, his chest heaving as he realized what had just happened.

“Shit,” he muttered again, his voice thick with embarrassment as he covered his face with one hand. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, I’m so sorry. This is so stupid—”

“Joel,” you interrupted, your voice firm but soothing as you brushed his hand away from his face. “Look at me.”

He did, his eyes wide and vulnerable, his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath. The sight of him—flushed, desperate, and utterly wrecked—only made you want him more.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m flattered, baby. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to come in your pants for me.”

Joel let out a choked sound, his hips twitching involuntarily beneath you.

“I… fuck, darlin’, you make me crazy,” he admitted hoarsely. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about you. I need you. Please… let me make it up to you.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Still wanna keep going, baby?” you whispered, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “After you’ve already made such a mess?”

Joel nodded frantically, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I don’t think I ever wanna stop, ma’am. Please… let me taste you. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

You pulled back slightly, tilting your head as you studied him, your expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, you smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Undress me,” you commanded, your voice soft but firm.

Joel flushed, his hands moving to your waist again. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pants, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for permission. 

You nodded, leaning back onto the bed as you let him guide the fabric down your legs, his touch careful but firm.

By the time your pants were off, you were sprawled out on the bed, your back resting against the pillows. 

Joel knelt between your legs, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail like he was trying to commit it to memory.

"You're beautiful," he said again, his voice breaking slightly as his fingers slid along the waistband of your panties. 

Joel groaned low in his throat, his hands clumsy but desperate as he unbuttoned your pants and slid them down your legs.

He paused when he saw your panties, a visible wet spot already soaking through the fabric. His breath hitched, and he let out a shaky, “Fuck… look at that. So wet for me, darlin’. Goddamn.”

His hands trembled as he paused, glancing up at you for reassurance.

You smirked, one eyebrow arching as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

"Go on, baby," you murmured, your voice soft and encouraging. "You've got me all to yourself. Do what you've been dreaming about."

Joel’s hands hovered over your hips for a moment before he finally let them settle there, his thumbs brushing against the edge of your panties.

Joel settled between your legs like he was kneeling before an altar, his chest heaving and his fingers trembling as he slid along the waistband of your panties.

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and wide with need, and you gave him the softest smile, threading your fingers into his hair as you gently tugged him closer.

“yeah, baby” you murmured, your voice dripping with encouragement.

His breath hitched, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He kissed you there, slow and reverent, his beard grazing your flesh and sending shivers through you. Each kiss was accompanied by a low, throaty groan, his lips moving steadily closer to the source of your heat.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, his voice breaking as he reached the edge of your panties. His nose pressed against the damp fabric, and he inhaled sharply, the sound guttural and desperate.

“Fuck, you smell so good, darlin’. Like heaven—sweet, wet heaven.”

His hands trembled as they gripped your thighs, holding you open as he buried his face against you, nuzzling and inhaling like he couldn’t get enough.

The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against your calves, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his breath and the wet heat of his mouth against your panties.

“Been dreamin’ about this—about your sweet cunt for so fuckin’ long. Want it so bad, baby. Wanna taste you—wanna lick you, suck that pretty clit between my lips and drink you down till there’s nothin’ left.”

You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging gently, encouraging him.

“Yeah?” you whispered, your voice low and breathless. “You wanna eat me out, baby? Wanna show me how good that mouth of yours is? Then take them off.”

Joel knelt between your thighs, trembling as he slid your soaked panties down your legs.

He didn’t even try to hide the way his breath hitched when your cunt was fully exposed to him, glistening and perfect.

His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths as he just stared for a moment, his lips parting like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“You just gonna look, Joel?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently. “Or are you gonna be a good boy and show me what you can do?”

That broke him. His head dipped instantly, his breath ghosting hot over your slick folds as he whispered, “Yes… yes, ma’am.” His voice was low, reverent, almost a prayer.

The first touch of his tongue was hesitant but deliberate, a slow drag from your entrance to your clit, as if he wanted to savor you.

He groaned into you, the sound muffled but deep, and then he leaned in further, pressing his mouth to your cunt like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice soft but thick with pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so eager for it. Just like that.”

Joel didn’t answer—couldn’t answer.

He was too focused, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open as he worked his tongue through every inch of your folds.

His breath hitched as he tasted you, his lips sealing over your clit for a moment to suck softly before his tongue returned to explore your entrance.

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, your hips arching slightly into his mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that. Look at you, so hungry for me. You love this, don’t you? Love worshipping my pussy.”

His only response was a desperate, muffled groan and moaning as he shifted his grip, spreading your thighs wider. 

His nose pressed against your clit, and he rubbed it there as his tongue delved inside you, slow and deliberate, tasting you from the inside out. 

His breathing was ragged now, warm puffs of air against your heat between each swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered hoarsely against you, his voice barely audible over the sound of his mouth working your cunt. “Fuck… taste so good. Yes. Yes, ma’am…”

You tugged his hair lightly, guiding him just where you wanted, and he followed without hesitation, his moans vibrating through your core. 

His nose nudged your clit again, his tongue lapping at your entrance with long, languid strokes, and your moans filled the room, soft and breathy.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your voice breaking slightly as he found just the right rhythm. “Such a good boy. Keep going, baby. Make me come.”

Joel groaned deeply, the sound muffled as he pressed his face impossibly closer to your core, his lips locking around your clit. 

Each sound he made was guttural, desperate, like he was losing himself in the taste of you.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, anchoring himself to you as his nose pressed against your folds, adding pressure in all the right places.

“Good boy,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you combed your fingers through his hair, guiding him exactly where you needed him. “Keep going, baby. Suck my clit just like that.”

Joel whimpered against you, the sound low and wrecked, and he obeyed without hesitation, sucking harder, his tongue darting out to flick over the swollen nub between pulls. 

He groaned again, his hips shifting slightly as if he couldn’t help but grind against the mattress, completely undone by the act of pleasuring you.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as the tension in your core tightened to an unbearable degree.

“Fuck, Joel—don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”

He moaned louder at your words, his hands tightening on your thighs as he doubled down, his lips creating just the right amount of pressure while his tongue worked you mercilessly. 

His nose nudged against your clit in rhythm with his sucking, the sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” he murmured against you between strokes, his voice trembling with need. “Wanna make you come, ma’am. Wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as your orgasm slammed into you, waves of pleasure crashing through you so hard you couldn’t even form words. 

Joel groaned against you, his tongue and lips relentless as he rode out your release, his moans vibrating through every sensitive nerve ending.

When you finally came down, your thighs trembling and your breath shaky, Joel slowly pulled back, his lips glistening and swollen, his face flushed and eyes glazed with pure adoration.

He looked like a man on his knees at the altar of a goddess.

“perfect,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, his gaze fixed on your blissed-out expression.

“Did I do good?” he asked quietly, his voice raw and hoarse.

You smiled, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “Better than good, baby,” you murmured. “Fuck.”

Joel’s eyes darted to yours, wide and full of something raw and pleading. 

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke, his voice trembling with need. “Please… can I keep goin’? Just a little more. I don’t wanna stop. Wanna taste you again, ma’am.”

His mouth found your clit in a featherlight kiss, his tongue flicking out experimentally, careful and reverent as though seeking permission. 

His hands slid up your thighs, holding them open like you might change your mind.

“Joel,” you said, your voice soft but firm, your hand threading into his hair and tugging just enough to stop him. “No, baby. I wanna feel you now.”

Joel froze, his breath hitching, and he whined softly against your skin, the sound almost pitiful. “But—” he started, his lips pressing to your clit again in a desperate, fleeting kiss. “I can make you come again. Please, I—”

“Joel.” Your voice was sharper this time, not cruel but commanding. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his lips glistening and his pupils blown wide. “You’ve been so good, baby, but I want you now. Don’t make me ask twice.”

The words sent a visible shudder through him. He hesitated for half a second before pulling back reluctantly, his lips parted as if to protest but no words came out. His hands lingered on your thighs, squeezing gently as he swallowed hard.

“Yes, ma’am,” he finally said, his voice low and hoarse, the respect and submission in his tone sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

He sat back on his heels, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited for your next command.

You leaned up slightly, cupping his cheek with one hand, your thumb brushing over his flushed skin. His lips were parted, breathless, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. 

“You’ve done so well, baby,” you murmured softly, letting your other hand trail down his chest. “But I need to see all of you. Let’s get this off.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his wide eyes locking onto yours as you reached for the buttons of his shirt. “Yes,” he whispered, the words shaky and reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed this moment.

One by one, you undid the buttons, the fabric parting to reveal the broad expanse of his chest.

You slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the bed as you sat back to admire him.

Your gaze swept over the planes of his body—the strong curve of his shoulders, the scars that marred his skin, the soft dusting of hair on his chest.

“Fuck, Joel,” you murmured, your voice full of heat and awe. “Look at you. You’re beautiful.”

His cheeks turned a deep red, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “Don’t know about that,” he mumbled, his voice low and unsure.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding over his chest, your thumbs brushing along the ridges of his scars.

“Oh, I do,” you purred, your tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re fucking perfect, Joel. Every inch of you.”

Your fingers grazed his nipples, and Joel froze, his breath catching audibly. The faintest shiver ran through his body, and he let out a soft, shaky, “Ma’am…”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “Sensitive, huh?” you murmured, circling the hardened peaks with your thumbs.

Joel let out a broken gasp, his hips jerking into the air as his hands gripped the sheets beneath him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and desperate. “Didn’t… didn’t know I -.”

“You didn’t?” you teased, leaning down to press a soft kiss to one nipple before flicking your tongue over it. Joel’s reaction was instant—a guttural moan that sent a wave of heat straight through you.

“Sweetheart I-” he gasped again, his hands trembling as they hovered near your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. “I—fuck, I—”

“Hush, baby,” you whispered, shifting to his other nipple and sucking it into your mouth. 

Joel cried out, his head falling back against the pillows as his chest arched into your touch.

His hips bucked again, and you could feel how hard he was, straining against the confines of his jeans.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know… didn’t know I could feel this good. Please, don’t stop.”

You hummed against his skin, your tongue teasing over the sensitive bud before you nipped at it gently. Joel’s whole body jerked, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you murmured, sitting back to admire the way his chest heaved, his eyes wide and glassy. “Bet no one’s ever touched you like this before.”

Joel shook his head frantically, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. “No,” he breathed. “Never. Fuck, it’s—ma’am, it’s so good.”

You let your hands drift lower, tracing the sharp lines of his ribs and the soft curve of his stomach. Joel’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a shaky moan as your fingers teased the waistband of his jeans.

“You want more, baby?” you asked softly, your voice teasing and full of promise.

Joel nodded frantically, his voice barely above a whisper as he rasped, “Please… please, ma’am. Anything you want.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his underwear, your eyes drinking in the sight of him as he was finally exposed.

Joel’s cock sprang free, flushed and thick, the head an angry, swollen red and glistening with his earlier release.

Pearly streaks of cum had smeared down his shaft, pooling at the base and even dripping onto his balls. You let out a low hum of approval, your lips curling into a wicked smile.

“Such a mess,” you tutted, your voice thick with teasing affection. “You’ve really made quite the mess, baby.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he avoided your gaze, his embarrassment clear. But his hips jerked slightly, almost involuntarily, at the heat in your voice.

“Aw, don’t get shy on me now,” you teased, your fingers curling gently around his cock, feeling the slickness of him against your palm.

“This is nothing to be embarrassed about. It just shows how much you need me.”

Joel whimpered, his voice breaking as he finally met your eyes. “I… I can’t help it,” he admitted hoarsely, his voice trembling. “You make me—fuck—you make me crazy.”

Your thumb stroked up the length of his shaft, smearing the sticky remnants of his cum before circling the sensitive head.

“I know, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening just a touch. “And I love how desperate you get for me. Let me clean you up first, okay? Can’t leave my good boy all messy like this.”

Joel nodded frantically, his lips parting as a shaky moan escaped him. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice thick with submission.

You leaned down, your tongue darting out to trace along the underside of his cock, starting at the base where his cum had pooled and slowly working your way up.

The taste of him was intoxicating, salty and musky, and you let out a quiet, pleased hum as you licked him clean. Joel’s entire body trembled beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he struggled to stay still.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Ma’am… oh, fuck…”

You didn’t stop, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, collecting every drop of his release before moving lower.

Your lips closed around one of his balls, sucking gently as your hand continued to stroke him, coaxing soft whimpers and gasps from his lips.

His thighs trembled, his breath hitching as you moved to the other, lavishing it with the same attention.

“You taste so good, Joel,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry as you pulled back slightly to admire your work. “Such a pretty cock, too. Look at you, all clean and perfect for me now.”

Joel moaned loudly, his head tipping back as his hands clenched the sheets even tighter. “You’re—fuck—you’re perfect,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “I don’t deserve this.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing along the length of his cock, your touch light and teasing.

“You deserve every bit of this,” you said firmly, your voice dipping into a commanding tone. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, haven’t you? Letting me take care of you like this.”

Joel’s hips jerked against your hand, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he nodded frantically.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Yes, ma’am. Please… please don’t stop.”

You leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive slit.

“You want more, baby?” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction. “Want me to make you feel even better?”

Joel’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto yours as he nodded, his desperation palpable. “Please,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I’ll do anything. Just… please let me feel you.”

You smiled, soft and knowing, before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Anything, huh?” you teased, your voice low and dripping with promise. “Then show me, Joel. Show me how much you want this.”

Joel’s hands trembled as he gripped your hips, helping you straddle him. His cock pressed against your slick heat, and he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through both of you.

His eyes flicked between your face and where your bodies were about to join, his chest heaving with anticipation.

“Don’t make me wait,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “Please, ma’am. Let me feel you.”

You reached down, guiding him to your entrance, your breath hitching as you slowly sank down onto him.

The stretch was delicious, the thickness of him filling you completely, and you couldn’t help the moan that spilled from your lips.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped, your hands bracing on his chest. “You feel so good, baby. So big—.”

Joel’s head fell back against the pillows, his lips parted as a choked moan escaped him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice shaky. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect. Feels like heaven, darlin’. I—fuck—I can’t believe this.”

You rocked your hips slowly, letting yourself adjust to the feel of him before setting a steady rhythm.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he bucked up to meet you, his movements desperate and hungry.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding as you leaned over him, your lips brushing against his ear. “That’s it, Joel. Let me take care of you. Let me give you what you need.”

Joel whimpered beneath you, his hips stuttering as he clung to you.

“You’re… you’re so fuckin’ good to me,” he rasped, his voice cracking with emotion. “The way you—fuck—the way you handle everything. The way you handle me.”

You tilted your head, studying him with soft affection as your hips moved steadily against his.

“Finally can let go, hm?” you murmured, your tone soothing yet commanding. “Yeah? Let me take care of you, Joel. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Joel’s eyes squeezed shut, his breath hitching as his hands slid up to cup your waist, holding you like you were his lifeline.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his hips bucking harder into you. “I—I worry about you, darlin’. But… but it’s an honor to. Always an honor.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, swallowing the desperate sounds spilling from his lips.

His thrusts grew erratic beneath you, his chest heaving as he neared the edge.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid to let go.

His breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his hips moved with a frantic rhythm beneath you, desperate and unrelenting. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body moving in perfect sync with his.

“You’re so fucking good, Joel,” you murmured against his lips, your voice heavy with affection and desire. “So perfect, baby. Keep going—don’t stop.”

His head tipped back, exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat, a choked moan escaping his lips.

“I—I can’t—fuck, darlin’,” he gasped, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “You feel so goddamn good. Can’t… can’t hold on much longer.”

You cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to yours, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek.

“You don’t have to hold on,” you whispered, your voice a soothing command. “Let go for me, Joel. Let me feel you.”

Joel’s eyes widened, his pupils blown, and his hips snapped up into you with desperate force.

“You’re—God, you’re everything,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hands slid up your sides, trembling as they roamed over your body. “Everything, darlin'. Don’t wanna stop… don’t wanna lose this.”

“You’re not gonna lose anything,” you reassured him, your own voice breathy and uneven as you rocked against him harder, the friction pushing you closer to your own edge. “I’m here, Joel. Always. Now, give it to me, baby.”

Joel’s body tensed, his back arching off the bed as a guttural moan tore from his throat.

“Fuck!” he cried, his hands gripping your hips as his release hit him, his cock pulsing inside you with a heat that sent you spiraling.

The intensity of his climax triggered your own, your body tightening around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Your cries mingled with his, the room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, raw and unrestrained.

Joel’s hips stuttered beneath you, his movements slowing as he rode out the last shuddering waves of his orgasm. His hands loosened their grip on your hips, sliding up to cradle your back as he pulled you down against his chest, holding you close.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds in the room your labored breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets. Joel’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re… you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with awe. “I don’t deserve you, darlin’. Don’t deserve any of this.”

You lifted your head, brushing your lips against his with a tenderness that made his breath hitch. “You deserve it all, Joel,” you murmured, your voice steady but warm. “Every damn bit. You’re good to me—you’re good for me.”

Joel’s eyes searched yours, shining with an emotion he couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to hide. His arms tightened around you, his lips brushing your forehead in a lingering, reverent kiss.

"Now rest up. We’ve got work to do.”

· · ───

From then on, you and Joel became Jackson’s most formidable pair. Whether it was managing patrols, handling disputes, or protecting the town, people knew better than to question the two of you. Joel was your rock, steadfast and loyal, while you were the sharp, commanding presence that kept everything moving forward.

He was at your side for every decision, every challenge, always watching your back—and stealing those quiet moments when it was just the two of you. Joel wore his pride in you like a badge, unspoken but deeply felt, in the way his gaze lingered and his touch steadied you.

And every night, as the world outside grew dark, you both found solace in each other—a partnership built on trust, strength, and the kind of love that didn’t need words to be understood.

Joel always said it best in his own way: “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, darlin’. Always.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I am not beta reading all of that so if y'all find any errors tell me or ignore them like I did the past 22 years. Hope this was fun for you - please comment your opinions (plsplspls). I kinda feel like this is too long idk-

love youuuuuu

[phantom-of-the-apartment]