#Us. part 1

[sunny-lounge]

Are you willing to do this with me. (Part 1/2) - [Us.]

Relationship: Sami/Jey (SamiJey)

Rating: Teens and up —light angst, feelings, making up, kissing, happy ending

Summary: Sami and Jey talk about their feelings and try and come to some sort of understanding.

Word count: 2,299

Ao3 link - part 1 Part 2 here. / *Other Fics*

A/N: This is Part 1 of 2. [Part 2 is EXPLICIT]. This is my first attempt at writing a Fic ever. It was fun writing! And, hope you enjoy it 🌸🌺 - comments/feedback would be appreciated, just to gauge how good OR BAD this is. Thanks! 🩷 - also, comments are so wonderful and so motivating!

-(if at all anyone wants to be tagged in my silly little fics let me know!)

——

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he says, shaking his head slightly exasperated. He doesn’t know why Jey is making this so difficult. Sami feels like he is the only one fighting for them and the only one who wants this. ‘Does Jey even care or want me the way I want him?’ he thinks somewhat bitterly and it's making him sick to even think it’s a possibility. So, he quickly shoves it out of his head.

“I guess I expected something from you, something that was, a little more. But I guess that's on me, huh." He pauses, but doesn't wait for Jey to respond before continuing. "Do you really not want this? Was I... Am I just making it all up?” Again he doesn't really wait for an answer, shaking his head in frustration he continues. ��You finally admitted you wanted me, that you would try, that what everyone else said and thought didn't matter anymore.”

“I know that,” Jey admits, wishing it didn’t come out sounding so weighted with guilt, so weak and pathetic.

Sami isn’t letting up though, he's hurt and he's finding it hard to keep this up any longer; whatever game they keep playing. “Yea, you do Jey! You do know that, yet you keep playing me around, you say one thing and do another. You keep running away.  Do you really not want to be with me?” asks Sami, he knows he sounds hurt but he can’t help it.

"Look, unless you been in my position, you ain't gotta come at me like this, okay?” Jey replies agitated, raising his voice despite himself, he feels defensive hearing the hurt in Sami’s voice, knowing that he caused it, so he attacks; sticking to what he knows best. Because suddenly all he is thinking of is everyone's reaction; his family's, what they are going to say and do if they ever find out, he is afraid. The thought being so vivid and upsetting, he can almost taste the bile rising up the back of his throat. He struggles but manages to force out, "You donno what it's like. To have to answer to family, to have a certain imagine 'n responsibility you gotta bear. Constantly wonderin' how to impress ‘em, to be exactly what they expect you to be. To be more than the expectations."

Sami understands that, after all, he's spent so much time with the 'family', he's seen it firsthand and can't argue, so even though he hates it, and hates that he understands it, he truly does. So, Sami can do nothing but utter in defeat, "Right, this isn't going to work is it? I'd rather you just come out and say you don't really want this, put me out of my misery already. I can't do this anymore.”

“That’s not fair,” Jey protests, softer, sounding weak even to his own ears.

“Oh? It’s not? So, what is fair then, Jey? Please, tell me."

"I donno!" Jey almost yells again, roughing up his hair and tugging at it, then dropping his hands and turning them upward in defeat. "I donno, okay?" he breathes out.

"Please Sami, what do I gotta do? I donno know no more. Just tell me what to do, Sami. I'll do it."

The words hanging between them, almost shocking and just right to stamp out the burn of Sami's growing hurt and frustration. He feels the fire in him die all at once, the urge to yell, argue and fight, vanishing.

The instantaneous change must have shown in his face and body language because Jey immediately but tentatively takes a step closer to him. As though, if he didn’t physically get closer to Sami, he might loose his nerve and he wouldn’t have another chance again.

“I don' wanna loose you Sami,” he states, his tone softer, reaching out like he means to touch Sami, but stops short halfway, only to drop his hand back down. “I should’nve said all that and done all that. I knew it then, and I know it now. I should’ve just said how I really feel ‘bout you, ‘bout us. I donno why I keep makin’ mistakes and excuses. What I said, what I did, I din’ mean any of it. I really didn’, I was just scared." He doesn't stop for a breath and keeps going, afraid that if he pauses he might not continue again. "I don’ wanna to be that kind of person, I'm not that kind of person, I jus’, I was scared ‘n I was wrong, I….” But his pleading explanation finally cuts off when he sees Sami holding up his hand, stopping him short.

“Just stop. I...” Sami trails off. For someone who is never at a loss for words, he’s finding it hard to form the right words. It isn’t like him to hold a grudge for long, especially when it comes to the people he cares about and the people he loves. He is always more willing to forgive and forget, simply because it’s too tiring to hold onto something so heavy and in the end, it would be him that probably suffers more for it.

Spending his time nursing resentment or stewing in it, he's learnt is futile. And everything that has happened between him and Jey, to be honest, all of the reasons seem small and inconsequential in this moment. They are insubstantial and weak, and ephemeral when compared to the man standing in front of him, warm and solid, present and real. They could really have a chance and make something of this. They just had to try. And Sami is willing to take the first step.

He reaches out and gently touches the side of Jey's face. The younger man immediately turns his face leaning into the touch, and that's all it takes for Sami to fully give in.

He moves closer and envelops Jey into his arms. He presses his face into the younger man’s neck, breathing him in, and savoring the way his arms are wrapped around him and holding Jey firmly to him.

“I really missed you Sami,” Jey croaks out the words, sounding muffled, pressed against Sami's hair. “I was afraid of bein’ with you but I was afraid of loosin’ you. I was afraid I’d miss out on ever feelin’ this way with you. I can't even explain what it's like when I’m with you. Just gotta be ‘round you... I can't stand thinkin’ I might’ve fucked this up. ’M sorry, I'm so sorry.”

The raw pain and emotion in his voice is too much for Sami.

“Don't, just stop okay, just….just stop.” He reluctantly pulls his head back, away from his spot at the younger man's tempting neck, a spot he really doesn't want to leave right now, but he does, to get a better look at him. Searching his eyes for something, and what he's trying to find Sami himself isn't sure of, but suddenly, he sees it and Sami knows he’s found it, and the next thing he does is lean forward once again to gently press his lips against Jey's. With just enough pressure to know it is a kiss, light and innocent, but heavy with a promise of so much more. It’s a reassuring pressure; an assurance that Jey has him.

Not confident that words alone will be enough to convince Jey, Sami wants to show him. Show him just how much he means to him, how much he loves him, for Jey to trust him and to show the Samoan that this is all worth it. Sami doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t want to listen, and he certainly doesn’t want to go around in circles anymore. He just wants to feel Jey and let Jey feel him. He wants Jey against his own body, to kiss him, and touch him and to just be with him.

He wants to show Jey just what the future can really be like for them.

Sami softly cups the sides of Jey's face in his hands and closes the distance between them once again. Kissing him delicately at first, but soon a little harder with a hint of desperation, like he is still trying to plead his case.

But Sami doesn’t have to plead for long, he can taste the Samoan's apology and want in each soft, tentative kiss, and tilts his head to accept them with parted lips. He can feel the heat starting to build between them and pulls him even closer.

Out of breath they pull apart for air. Jey wants more, and going by Sami's actions, so does he. So Jey pulls of his jacket, starting to lift up his shirt too. And Sami doesn’t bother to pretend his eyes aren't fixated on his hands as they work; and on the naked skin that is slowly and painfully being revealed.

“I came here to talk you know, not because I was trying to fuck you,” Sami forces out, hating that he is inturrupting the mesmerizing view his eyes are witnessing right now. He's also surprised, and quite pleased with himself for being able to form any kind of meaningfully strung together words at the moment, his mouth being so dry and his heart beating a hundred miles an hour. But, he has to get this out before they go any further, he needs Jey to know that his intentions are pure. Don't get him wrong, he definitely wants this, but his main intention was always to focus on working things out between them. And if something more happened, that was a welcoming bonus.

That didn't deter Jey one bit, in fact the way that statement from the older man is worded —"fuck you"; lights a fire in Jey. "I know. But, are youu sayin’ no to this then?" questions Jey, giving Sami a coy smile and a sultry tilt of his hips. Knowing fully well what it is doing to Sami, going by the growing reaction he is noticing in Sami's pants and the sneaking suspicion that Sami might appreciate the sight of his hips. He’s noticed the way Sami eyes his waist when he wears his crop tops, it gives him a thrill every time he feels those eyes on him, burning his skin and making him feel like he is on fire. He is addicted to Sami’s attention and he revels in it. To the point where he starts wearing those ridiculous tops more often than not. Anything to keep Sami’s attention on him.

It takes a minute to steady his breathing, but Sami manages, and he exhales. "No. Yes. I mean no." Letting out a frustrated sigh, he tries again. "What I mean is, I'm not saying no." You can't exactly blame him he thinks, for getting tongue tied when he's got Jey's tattooed naked torso and hips enticing him this way. And he vaguely wonders how he's going to react when he finally sees the younger Samoan fully naked.

Before he can think on it anymore, Jey closes the remaining distance between them, grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in, for a kiss so raw it drives that and all other thoughts out of his head.

Nothing matters right now except the feeling of Jey's tongue in his mouth and the warm calloused hands that are slowly creeping under his shirt; nothing but his own hardness straining against his pants and the growl that rumbles from Jey's throat at being challenged by Sami's own tongue.

Nothing, but—

Jey reluctantly pulls away panting. “Sorry I, uh, just hijacked your lips there aye. Is....is this okay?”

Sami gives a disbelieving snort, “I should be the one asking you that. In case you haven't already noticed", he continues, pointing down to his groin, "This is more than okay.”

“Oh, okay, I mean—If you're okay. With what we doin’—us—doin’ this—”

“Jey.”

Jey stops and looks at Sami, and all of a sudden comes to the realization that he's never going to be able to go back to pretending the lovable ginger was nothing more than a friend, or someone he worked with, not when he now knows the flavor of Sami's mouth.

He searches Sami's face, and all he can see is love in his eyes, no trace of doubt. He can also feel proof of Sami's desire matching his own against his thigh. But he’s also seeing the searching expression on Sami's face fixed on his own. His eyes scanning Jey looking for any signs of, Jey assumes, his own doubt and reluctance.

So Jey holds Sami's gaze, and slowly leans in, brushing a light, tentative kiss across his lips. Sami's lips are chapped but soft and receptive, and his mouth opens up instantly and Jey licks his way inside.

Sami let's out a low moan from deep inside, eagerly swiping his tongue against Jey's. He allows Jey to take over the kiss, savoring it and his toes curling as he pushes the younger man towards the bedroom, sliding both hands up and down his tattooed skin as they move, trying to feel every inch that's exposed.

Jey shudders and continues to be guided along. Sami is taking over after that, dragging Jey along to his bedroom with more intention than before. The room is equally as big and spacious as the rest of the hotel suite, Sami knows Jey is used to the best so he isn’t all too surprised, seems like old habits die hard. But Sami is too distracted to fully appreciate it. All his focus is on Jey and the perfectly sized bed in front of them waiting to be used.

When they get close enough to the bed, he turns and pushes Jey onto the mattress.....

——

Thank you for reading! Part 2 coming soon! 🩷

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[sentate]

SENTATE - The Sunset Collection

Blending beach days with date nights; The Sunset Collection is fresh set of romantic dresses that can be kept casual for the day or glammed up for the evening. Whether its a cheeky sheer mini dress or a showstopping silk gown, your sims are guaranteed to be sizzling by sunset!

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8 Items Total / 30 Plain Swatches (+15 prints)

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[wolfienation]

[littlcdarlin]

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 || read on AO3

summary: Reader goes on a beach vacation with Joel after her father breaks his leg. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, sexual tension, blow jobs, smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair (will add more as I add more parts)

note: The devil works fast but I work faster. New multi chapter smut fic inspired by those damn new Pedro pics in the works…enjoy part 1! I haven't planned all of the smut scenes, so if you have any requests for specific kinks/scenes, do let me know!

He’s dead fucking wrong. You love your father, enough to not immediately say no, but he’s wrong. It’s true you could use a girls’ trip, perhaps even a couple of days out of town with your Dad, and he’s not entirely off about university being the death of you, kiddo – you’ve spent one too many nights inhaling coffee and cramming for your finals. The idea of an all-inclusive trip is tempting, given the fact that all you manage to eat these days is pasta and store-bought pesto, if that.

Nevertheless, you need to keep studying, there’s less than two weeks left until your exams, and although the trip is only a couple of days, you don’t know Joel.

Sure, you’ve been to his barbecues, and he let you use his bike one year when yours was stolen and your Dad refused to buy you a new one, because you should have locked it up in the first place. You know how he patched up your Dad after the divorce – you never worried about your mother, who was heartbroken, but able to talk about it to her family and friends. Your Dad was the one you spent sleepless nights over. The way the beer bottles accumulated in his garage, how distant he seemed on the phone. You know it was Joel who looked after him, made sure he left the house and had anything edible inside it. You’re grateful for it, you are, but you don’t really know him. For most of your life, he has been a friendly smile and wave over a fence, and you’re shy around people you know much better than the occasional hey kid, you back for the summer? or if you see your Dad, tell him I borrowed his screwdriver, I’ll put it back tomorrow.

You do feel slightly guilty your Dad can’t go on his trip. He broke his leg, and although it’s not entirely your fault he slipped, you had been the one to mop the stairs right before the accident. As much as your Dad was looking forward to his vacation, after a week he had to admit a beach holiday would be little fun with a whole leg in plaster.

You sigh, staring at your phone screen, tapping on it every once in a while to keep it from turning black. He’s expecting an answer soon, you know he is. Who the hell books non-refundable trips anyway? When you get the time, you’ll need to tell him about a lovely invention that is insurance.

You glance over at the stack of unfinished coursework on your desk, your laptop taunting you with its quiet – no responses to the millions of job applications you have sent out have come through. At this rate, you’ll be jobless in a couple of months, when you finish your degree. You’ll have to live with either of your parents forever, no money for any sort of vacation whatsoever.

"Oh, screw it,“ you mutter, unlocking your phone, and typing quickly.

I’ll do it. Only because my A+ cleaning is the reason you can’t go. Tell Joel to bring something to read, I need to study.

***

"It’d be a shame if it went to waste, kiddo, I’m glad you’re doing this.“

"Yeah,“ you answer, thinking of the endless powerpoint slides you haven’t even looked at yet. "Maybe studying at the beach works wonders.“

There’s a knock on the door, and you move to open it, your Dad chained to his chair by his broken leg. You’re not particularly excited about the smalltalk you’ll have to make with your Dad’s friend, but if you remember correctly, Joel is as much the quiet type as you are, and might actually appreciate your studying. Great, you think, at least one of us will enjoy it, then.

When you open the door, the first thing that strikes you is how hard you find it to envision Joel at the beach – he’s all mountains and trees to you, with his lumberjack boots and flannel shirt. His smile is friendly, and only gains warmth when he notices the critical look you give his outfit.

"I know,“ he says, voice deep and quiet, "I’m king of dressing for the occasion.“

You grin, and open the door wider.

"Come on in. Dad’s in the living room. What’s with the…uh…“

Your voice trails off, as you gesture towards his distinctly un-vacationy clothes.

"Thought you might bail,“ Joel answers easily, stepping into the house. "Can’t imagine you’re overly thrilled about this.“

You think about denying it, but this is your chance to come clean about how you would much prefer keeping to yourself and preparing for your finals, so you sigh.

"Well, it’s kinda my fault Dad was, like, almost paralyzed from the neck down, so I figured the least I could do was not let his trip go to waste. I’ve got finals in two weeks, so the timing is…suboptimal.“

"Yeah, your Dad said. I brought reading material, so I won’t bother you too much.“

He’s easy, you realize. Easy to talk to, and easy to accept your reluctance to bond with an almost-stranger, quick to make you feel comfortable by hinting at that boundary. You smile back, and are struck by how he holds your eye contact until you break it yourself, nodding towards your suitcase.

"Think this will fit inside the car?“

"Sure,“ he answers, "I’ve got a Bronco.“

You have no idea what that means, but you assume it’s a good thing, so you smile vaguely.

"It’s an SUV,“ Joel explains with a hint of good-natured amusement in his voice.

"Right,“ you say, attempting to overplay your obvious lack in car-knowledge, "SUV. One of the big ones.“

It makes Joel smile again, and you notice the wrinkles around his eyes that make his face look all sunny. 

"Yeah,“ he says. "One of the big ones.“

You lead him into the living room to say good-bye to your Dad, who’s expression is a weird mixture of sombre and excited at the sight of his daughter and best friend getting ready to drive to the airport.

"Take care of her, Joel,“ he says, when you’re getting ready to leave.

"Don’t worry,“ Joel answers with a pat to your father’s arm. "I’ve got her.“

"I’m twenty-three,“ you remind your father, "I’ve done more dangerous things than a trip to the beach.“

"Yeah, but you’re still my little girl,“ he answers with a smile, squeezing your hand. You squeeze back, though his comment irritates you.

"See ya, Dad. Call me if something’s wrong with your leg, alright?“

"Sure, kiddo. Have fun, you two, and bring me a seashell.“

Joel grins at the open envy on your Dad’s face.

"We’ll go on another trip next year,“ he says in an attempt to cheer him up.

"Yeah, yeah,“ your Dad answers, glancing at his watch. "Better get going, or you’ll miss the flight.“

"We’ll be fine, Joel’s got a fast car,“ you argue, "A Bronco. That’s an SUV.“

Joel snorts.

***

Joel lets you take the window seat and plops down next to you, legs slightly spread so as to fit into the little space the two of you have. His leg nudges yours, and he pulls it back immediately, though you can see how uncomfortable it must be with his knees pressing into the seat in front of him. You move your legs towards the window with a glance at Joel, who looks grateful and is able to relax his muscles into a more comfortable position without invading your space.

"Thanks,“ he mutters, "Fucking hate flying.“

So do you, though not because you’re too big to fit into the space, and not because you’re afraid – mostly because it’s boring. Sure, takeoff is exciting, but you get nauseous from watching movies and the plane is much too loud to really enjoy your music the way you would lying on your bed at home. You could study, you suppose, but you tell yourself you wouldn’t be able to concentrate and kick your backpack further under your seat. Joel notices and chuckles.

"Finals, huh? You almost done with your degree?“

You can’t imagine him finding your boring university struggles interesting, but you’re not exactly fantastic at smalltalk, so you take the conversation he’s offering you.

"I’ve got one more year, but I’ve got to do a six month internship, and write my thesis, so yeah, this is, like, the last of my regular classes and exams.“

"You enjoy it?“

The question is strikingly honest, like he really wants to know, like it’s fine if you don’t. You look at him, his eyes already on your face, and for a second you think how handsome he is. You didn’t notice before, when he was just the owner of a bike you could conveniently borrow, when life was all skinned knees and staying up till sun-down. Now, he looks like an equal, like someone who wants to know about your life, someone you want to know about yourself. The change is a little unsettling, but thrilling. You realize you haven’t answered him, so you clear your throat.

"Sure, it’s alright. Not what I would have done if money didn’t matter, but it does, so…I can be content with it.“

Joel considers this, eyes still lingering on your face, as the plane starts speeding up for takeoff.

"What would you do if money didn’t matter?“

You shrug, and smile to yourself.

"Creative writing, maybe. Or English lit.“

"You always were the smart one in your family,“ Joel answers with a chuckle.

You glance at him, and feel a pang of something warm in your stomach as he compliments you. When the plane takes off, you look out of the window, but get the feeling Joel’s eyes keep looking at you. It makes your skin prickle, though not at all unpleasantly.

***

You get to the hotel when the sun is high in the sky, burning the top of your head and making you long for a shower and an ice-cold coke. Joel courteously carries your suitcase and although you don’t want to inconvenience him, you don’t mind the way his muscles bulge under the weight, arms straining against the navy shirt he had underneath his flannel. You wonder how he’s not suffocating in the heat, wearing his thick jeans and boots.

When you get to the front desk, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, searching for his reservation details with furrowed brows. You smile when you notice he uses two hands to scroll. It takes him a couple of minutes, cursing under his breath, and you smile at the lady, who smiles back, patiently waiting for Joel to find the right email.

"Sorry,“ you say to her, and try to catch a glimpse at Joel’s phone, so as to figure out what’s taking him so long. "Need some help?“

He throws you an offended look that makes you grin, and finally shows the lady his phone. She smiles, types something into her computer and gets out two room keys.

"Go easy on your Daddy, it’s easier when you grew up with the internet,“ she says, handing you each a keycard. You feel Joel stiffen beside you, and your stomach flutters.

"Here’s your keycards, you’re on the third floor. Enjoy your stay!“

"Thanks,“ Joel mumbles, taking the cards and handing them to you, before grabbing the two suitcases. He huffs, when you walk around a corner and towards the elevators.

"She was makin’ fun of me,“ he says accusingly when the lady is out of earshot, as if that would be your fault. You snort, all of a sudden feeling giddy at the prospect of being at the beach soon, your holiday only a couple of minutes away.

"I don’t think so, she was trying to help you by blaming your incompetence on your age,“ you say, Joel looking at you like he can’t believe what you said.

"Sorry.“ Your voice is quivering with amusement at how offended he is. "Daddy.“

That makes him clear his throat, and if your eyes aren’t playing a trick on you, his cheeks turn a shade darker. Bingo.

"Don’t say shit like that,“ Joel grumbles, "’M not that old.“

"How old are you, then?“

"Why?“, he asks, eyes meeting yours, and suddenly you’re the one blushing, your stomach swirling with something you definitely should not be feeling for your Dad’s best friend. Joel shakes his head. "Don’t start something neither of us can finish, kid.“

It’s just an offhand-comment about the way you jokingly flirted, but you feel all bashful all of a sudden. His mention of there being something to potentially start, the fact that the possibility even crossed his mind…when you look up at him again and watch him press a button on the elevator, you study the grey patches in his beard, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as you’re waiting, his thick fingers drumming against the handle of his suitcase. It’s not what you expected to happen, but Joel’s got you intrigued.

***

You both agree to take a shower, get settled in and meet outside the rooms in half an hour – they’re neighboring, so it’s not far. You’re too lazy to properly unpack, so you just grab a bikini and a comfortable white sundress to change into after your shower. The water is welcome on your skin, washing away the grit and sweat of the hours spent on the plane, and you feel like a new person when you step out of the bathroom. You put on sandals and a pair of sunglasses, grab sunscreen, your books and notes for class, and a bottle of water, and throw it all into your beach bag, then head for the door. Joel is already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite your door wearing a different shirt, red swimming trunks and dark sunglasses. He’s got a towel thrown over his shoulder and you grin.

"Raw-dogging the beach?“, you ask, which makes him furrow his brows.

"The hell does that mean?“

You snort at his obvious annoyance at your innuendo.

"It means you’re only bringing a towel, nothing to entertain yourself with,“ you explain, gesturing towards your bag. Joel shakes his head, still frowning.

"I’m going to the beach, not the library,“ he answers, and starts walking towards the elevators, his flip-flops making their soft sound on the floor. Your gaze flickers down towards his legs, his swimming trunks revealing tan thighs.

"Comin’?“

You swallow, and catch up with him.

***

He’s fucking gorgeous. It’s a problem, how gorgeous he is, tan torso, swimming trunks low on his hips, bits of dark hair scattered across his chest and soft belly. His shoulders are wide, like they were made for swimming, his hair glistening as he shakes like a wet dog when he comes up for air. You have been staring at the same page for far too long now, but there’s no way Joel is able to notice your staring, not when you’re wearing your sunglasses and he’s busy swimming.

You know it’s a bad idea, that there’s no good that can come from crushing on a man twice your age, more than that, even. You know he must surely see the girl who came over to borrow his bike with tears of anger in her eyes every time he looks at you, and you know how much he respects your father.

Still, you are allowed to have fun. You’re doing this for your Dad more than anything, and you’ve been bending over backwards trying to make him proud with your good grades, so if there’s something you’re able to get out of this trip, you figure you’re at least allowed to look. And anyway, it’s not hurting anyone. It’s just natural, the half-naked bodies and blissful relaxation would affect anyone who has spent the last four months cramped up in a little dorm room.

You watch Joel swim towards the beach again, rising out of the water like some sort of Poseidon sent to personally make this trip unbearable for you. You think of his reaction when you teasingly called him Daddy, and swallow.

"Fuck,“ you mumble to yourself, when he tugs on his swimming trunks so that they don’t slide over his hips, dripping water onto the dry sand all around him. He smiles at you as he makes his way over to your spot – two deckchairs shielded by a parasol.

"Wow,“ Joel says sarcastically, when he looks at your book, still on page two. "Real page turner, huh?“

You blush, and open your mouth to defend yourself, but Joel’s expression softens, all biting humor gone, as he grabs his towel.

"You’re allowed to take a break from studying, you know?“

You watch him dry himself off, big hands rubbing the towel over his chest and stomach, leaving his legs to dry on their own, as he lays down on his deckchair.

"Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to face my Dad if you fail all your exams.“

Joel turns his head towards you, and you’re struck by how gentle his expression is.

"I know he can be a hard ass, but I guarantee you you’re not goin’ to fail all your exams, kid.“

You sigh and shrug.

"He give you a hard time ’cause of your grades?“

"No,“ you answer quickly, all of a sudden feeling defensive of your father. "I just wanna…make him proud.“

Joel smiles.

"I know for a fact you’re doin’ that without even tryin’. And anyway, it’s good to take breaks. Let’s your brain cool off and absorb information much better afterwards.“

Can’t argue with that logic, you think and close your book with a thud. Joel grabs it from you and throws it into your beach bag.

"I grant you two hours of studying each day,“ he says, and you have to laugh. "The rest is for having fun, gettin’ tan and drinkin’ cocktails."

It’s preposterous, that he would order you around like that after you told him you need to study, back before you even made it to the airport. But something is different here, away from your desk, and your Dad’s broken leg (and the rest of him, for that matter). Joel and you have fallen into an easy dynamic, and although it’s unusual, your reservations are gone. You’re actually looking forward to spending time with him, and not just because of the way his belly nudges against the waistband of his swimming trunks, or how his accent seems to thicken in the sun.

"Fine,“ you say, "but you’re paying for my tuition if I do end up failing, Miller.“

He grins at you.

[glassshine]

Moon and Kinkajou kill a man part two

part 1

[zoe-oneesama]

Well THIS looks familiar.

Episode 52 Part 1 First < Previous > Next Season 1, Season 2, Season 3, Season 4, Season 5 Ep 41, Ep 42, Ep 43, Ep 44 Ep 45, Ep 46, Ep 47, Ep 48, Intermission, Ep 49, Ep 50, Ep 51

Bonus:

Ko-fi | Patreon

[choccy-milky]

merry christmas !🎅❤️💚

[dunmeshistash]

How do you feel about Milsiril? Like what do you think of her interactions between the canaries, her goals, her intentions and morality? I keep seeing people with mixed feelings about her, some saying she's just toxic or morally grey or doing bad but with good intentions or that she's just a mentally ill and literally so much more, also with the comic about Otta calling Milsiril love for her children/Kabru as just love for a pet, I always saw people take it at face value and say yes, Milsiril did love them more as pets instead of children, did she take up raising/adopting non-elf children because she felt like none of them could ridicule her like the elves did because they didn't know what an elf was supposed to be like (and also because they were children) or did she inherently view them as less? I mean the canaries and I'm pretty sure almost all of the cast in dungeon meshi have some sort perspective on different races especially because how they were taught about them, i just think it was interesting to finally see someone interpret it as Otta just misinterpreting Milsiril, I'm just really interested in her, i think shes neat, sorry for the rant!

Ooh, well to preface this, I hadn't really realized Milsiril was such a controversial character before my last post, I kinda live under a rock. She's really not a character I had given much thought besides what I wrote there before it, but I can do my best to express what I have thought since, with sources for it. I'm not sure what order to go thru so I'll just go by manga appearances and then extras, this will probably be quite a long post

This is the first time she shows up in the manga (ch55) Kabru is wondering about what future they might have if the elves take them into custody because of the ancient magic, he thinks about Milsiril as a get out of jail card, and mentions "There's a chance they would make us become permanent resident of the elven lands." with the image of Milsiril holding him. I don't think that means she would be the one to not let them leave, since this would probably be an legal issue, and the fact Milsiril lives away from other Elves. It does set up that Milsiril is quite overprotective tho, with Kabru's reaction to her teary hug. (rest is under a cut)

The next time she shows up is in ch61 right after Kabru falls down the dungeon along with Mithrun, he faints and has this flashback

She's being her overbearing self treating Kabru's small injury as if its something you need to be in bed for, hand feeding him like he's a toddler, and when he insists he wants to learn how to fight and be strong like her, she hugs him revealing to us for the first time her arm scars, she's cleary in distress too, so you wonder "what has happened to her?"

It continues in the next pages, as she tells him to stay there, where it's safe and there's cake, and describes the bad things he might encounter. Until he tells her he will go with or without her help

Honestly this is a Kabru we don't see often, this is the version of him that is usually in thought bubbles, he's blowing out in frustation over being smothered and demanding straight up what he wants, instead of trying to manipulate Milsiril, very blunt for him. Milsiril seems to flip a switch into battle mode, when she decides to train him for real.

I really thought this was funny, the visual of these cuddly toys and this Mom that was being so soft just a second ago completely flipping into something menacing is very amusing to me. She says "I'll give you an exhaustive, thorough training in how to use a sword... until you finally decide that you're ready to give up." although it sounds cruel, it seems she really trained him as best she could to make sure he would survive the dungeon. If he couldn't take the training with her there was no way he would be able to take on the dungeon, but he could, so much so that he managed to make her let him go. I can see this being seen as her trying to prevent him from going but to me it seems more like some tough love from a traumatized war veteran in this case.

The last thoughts he has is admitting his Mom was right, "Not only were there plenty of traps, monsters, and malice... but there were times when I felt so hungry and cold that I couldn't stand it."

And he concludes with "I never once thought that I wanted to go back there. That room where I could eat all the cake that I wanted..." While I can understand the interpretation that he means he would rather go thru all this than go back, perhaps cause he hated it there, I think it's rather a statement to how committed he is to defeating the dungeon, the visuals show him in rubble vs him in a soft big bed, the rough reality he fought to be able to face and the comfyness of what his life could be. Plus is mirroring exactly what Milsiril said to him. Admitting she was right about the bad things but that he won't give up for the safe easy life he had.

After that visuals of Milsiril are used while Kabru tries to sus out Mithrun but she shows up again in Mithrun's backstory.

Here she's straight up called Gloomy, which wasn't really the version of her we saw so far, gotta remember this is also how Mithrun saw her and that she was called gloomy as a way of bullying. Kabru mostly cuts off her part in the story until the end, when she's the one to find Mithrun after he was eaten by the demon

She doesn't really care much for Mithrun as we see in some extras, and she was ready to mercy kill him, but she is also the one to spare his life. This could be seen as her thinking he can still be of use, and it's how it sounds with how Kabru tells the story, but I do think this was also a merciful act, Mithrun was in rehabilitation for 20 years after being saved, by the time he was actually useful for anything Milsiril had already left the canaries and adopted Kabru.

Now for extras... About Mithrun/The Canaries, Milsiril was cleary someone that hated the people around her. This is her extra in the Adventurer's Bible

Milsiril seems to be the type that hates "popular kids" so to say, her description says she was bullied by other elves for being so introverted so I believe she holds a grudge against people like Mithrun that seem to have succeeded where she failed. But realizing he was a twisted person like her seemed to make her feel more sympathetic towards him, that's why I think she really did act with mercy when she saves Mithrun, he's now someone she sees as similar to her, she sees he also suffered like her

Her decription also mentions she left the canaries specifically because she was disgusted with how the Utaya situation was dealt with. Yet it seems like she came back to help Mithrun with his rehabilitation once she quits.

There's an interpretation to be made that she did this only to get "revenge" on the demon since she just saw the destruction of Utaya, and that she's using him. On the other hand maybe she wants to help him find a motivation to live, she's no longer a canary and she has time to actually help him now. I don't know which one is the truth but it's not obviously something self-serving if you ask me. Especially in the context that right before this scene Milsiril admits she wishes they could have talked before.

My interpretation of her relationship with the canaries and other elves is that she's someone depressed that was mistreat for her 'quirky' side, the dolls are clearly one of the ways she used to cope with anxiety/depression but it only caused her to be bullied by her own kin, she's the daughter of an important family and it's shown in other extras, including one about Mithrun, that nobles often send out the kids they don't want around to become canaries. It's an easy way to get rid of someone undesirable and I think it was the case for Milsiril. (Pattadol even assumes her parents love her less than her sisters for sending her to join the canaries).

No wonder than that now that she's finally free from the canaries she chose to seek her own happiness away from the society she felt she could never fit into, she clearly likes to take care of children too, I think it's mean to assume she only likes them because she feels superior to them when there's no indication that this is the case.

And I don't think it's a coincidence she's so overprotective of Kabru after Utaya, it's literally the tragedy that was the breaking point for her, and he's a surviving small child from that tragedy, Milsiril cares about Kabru and wanted him to have a comfortable safe life after everything he went thru...

This ended up getting way too long so I'll make second part tomorrow about the rest of the extras and Kabru, and some other things I've seen said about Milsiril, but to answer the questions...

I don't think she treats her children as pets, Otta is just salty she was called out for dating like Leo Dicaprio.

Every single dungeon meshi character can be called morally grey because they all have flaws that in our world can be considered unforgivable, but they don't live in our world. To me Milsiril is doing her best in the context she lives in.

Who even is neurotypical in dungeon meshi, Milsiril is yet another flavour of a neurodivergent traumatized character among so many.

I believe she thought of the other canaries, especially Mithrun, as the same type of people that were cruel to her, probably because some of them really were, but that she generalized it to the point she thinks of all of them as bad by default. You can only get hurt so many times before you assume everyone will hurt you.

Part 2

[ejsuperstar]

Imagine you live in pelican town. The new farmer has been here a couple weeks now and seems to be settling in, except... He's picking the weirdest friend choices. Like sure it's not weird to befriend the local fisherman, especially when he has an interest in fishing himself, but you're pretty sure you've seen him rooting through the Saloon's garbage with the local homeless man. As well, he keeps harassing the poor guy who works at Joja even though you KNOW he doesn't want to be friends with him.

And since you're on the topic of weirdness, isn't it odd he seemingly runs everywhere at a full sprint? Or just... Eats entire raw fish while fishing for "energy reasons"...

...

Despite all that, it's too early to call him off putting or anything... He has been engaging in town traditions, and he's started helping out with the old community centre. He's probably like the rest of you. Someone with a few quirks, that will fit in with the valley great!

Surely he can't get any weirder... Right?

[gingerswagfreckles]

It's become extremely obvious over the past 15 months that the only reason much of the Western world ever basically agreed that the Holocaust was bad and was willing to teach about it is because for a brief period of time, Jews and gentiles in most of Europe + America had a common enemy in the Nazis. But this acknowledgement of Nazi antisemitism was only ever the same kind of acknowledgement of antisemitism that we get right now, where people are only willing to acknowledge the antisemitism of the people they already had a completely separate reason to dislike or fear. Antisemitism in this worldview is just a tool, a secondary accusation one can lodge at someone who is already for different reasons an enemy. It is never acknowledged as a form of bigotry in and of itself, that exists on its own and not as a follow up to another "more serious" form of oppression or bigotry against gentiles.

Obviously any Holocaust education we do get in Europe and the US has very much been the result efforts by Jews and our allies in a practical sense, but it is undeniable that there was a brief 70 or so year period where the white Western consciousness found it valuable (or at least politically convenient) to recognize antisemitism as wrong and the Holocaust as horrific. As true, original-brand Nazism fades, though, we see opposition to antisemitism and the Holocaust becoming less and less valuable to the white Western identity, as actual threat of Nazi occupation fades to historical memory. Newer, rebranded neo-Nazis and leftist Hamas supporters pose little to no threat to white Western gentiles. And thus, we see now not only a growing acceptance of antisemitism, but also a growing hostility towards the idea that we should study or condemn the Holocaust as anything particularly terrible. The Holocaust no longer represents a way for gentiles to additionally condemn an ideology that also threatened them, that also killed their families, that also resulted in their own countries and communities being occupied or destroyed by foreign fascist governments. It no longer represents to them an ideology that is in any way a threat to their own safety or way of life.

This is why we see such a massive rise in Holocaust denial among Gen Z, and, even more broadly than overt Holocaust denial, the rejection of the idea that the Holocaust should be particularly studied or condemned. More and more, we see people "questioning" the "propaganda" of The Jews Crying Victim All The Time, we see young people wondering why they are so cruelly forced to acknowledge on very rare occasion the suffering that the Jewish people went through in their own homes and towns. Often this is framed not only as intellectual bravery but moral bravery, as if this new generation rejecting Holocaust education is somehow fighting back against the unfair valuing of Jewish tragedy above gentile tragedy. What they don't understand, of course, and what many Jews up until now didn't understand either, is that no one ever valued the Holocaust because it WAS a uniquely horrific event in history, because it WAS the first and only industrialized genocide that gassed millions to death on a scale we can only pray the world will never see again, because it WAS only 70 years ago and is still a living part of the history of many Western countries. No. The Holocaust was only ever given the acknowledgement it was because it represented, at one time, an ideological threat that also included gentiles, though less overtly than it targeted Jews.

That ideological threat against Jews has not gone anywhere, and is in fact is seeing a new glory day dawning with the rise of fascism worldwide and the normalization/glorification of antisemitism on the left. But this new form of antisemitic hatred, be it neo-Nazism or support for Hamas, does not represent a threat to white Western gentiles, their way of life, or the integrity of their governments. And so we as we see the decoupling of the Holocaust from something that also incidentally threatens gentiles, we see standing against the Holocaust and antisemitism as a symbol of white Western identity disappearing as fast as it came.

[blank-house]

Contrary to what those on campus think, Jamie and Elio have a lot in common. The biggest link between them? Their love of nature~🌿

Art by the lovely Velinxi

[ ◉ ¯]

Surprise! To commemorate the campaign's launch, we commissioned a handful of incredibly talented artists to draw our boys. We've been dying to share these for a long time so I hope you guys enjoy seeing them in a new and refreshing way over the course of the campaign!

DISCLAIMER: We are not responsible for the potential combusting one might undergo when they see these immaculate pieces lol

[ ◉ ¯]

Kickstarter -> Keyframes: First Summer Game -> Keyframes: First Spring

[faiell]

the vanishing cabinet

[elliespuns]

Joel Miller, appreciation post

[nihildep]

[littlcdarlin]

Into Temptation – the Outing

read Into Temptation (the initial meeting & first night)

summary: Reader hasn't left Joel's side since they spent the night together. When he brings her to the Tipsy Bison days later, Tommy is pissed, and people stare at them. It should bother Joel, but it has the opposite effect. warnings: girthy juicy age gap (20 & late 50s), daddy kink (duh), overstimulation, forced orgasm (kinda sorta, consent is enthusiastic the whole time), breeding kink, praise kink, Joel calls reader “kid” or “kiddo”, dacryphilia, Joel gets off on people seeing them together, reader is really sweet

note: this Joel has me so weak in the knees I actually need to either be locked up or put down like a dog. Position inspired by that Narcos scene. You know the one. Enjoy!

For a man who likes to keep to himself, Joel sure doesn’t mind all the eyes glued to him – to you, your little hand clutching his, your torso drowning in one of Joel’s pullovers, his scent lingering all over you like some sort of sick perfume. They know what he did to you. What he will continue to do, once you’re back at his place. He took you there after your first day together at your place, because your house is still so empty – you haven’t been in Jackson long. Joel’s home smells like you now, and neither of you could come up with a good enough reason for you to go back to your place, when it’s so quiet and empty and Joel-less.

So he washed your clothes for you in the tub while you were sleeping, all fucked out, limp, and naked in his soiled sheets. This way you wouldn’t even have to go home to pick up new clothes, not for a while at least. He wouldn’t want you to be cold, though, so he gave you one of his knit sweaters to wear over your dress, and a heavy brown leather jacket. They are way too big on you of course, but for some reason they fit. Not physically, but it looks so right, you in his clothes, your hand in his, your hair still a little tangled in the back from where his hand buried itself when he kissed you right before leaving.

Truth be told, he wasn’t even keen on going to the Tipsy Bison. Hell, he went without a drink for four days and he didn’t mind a bit, your pliant body under his a pleasant distraction from all he tried to drown in whiskey. No, not a distraction – a cure. That’s what it felt like when he heard your voice, when he smelled your sweat and sweet perfume and felt you clench around him.

So no, he doesn’t mind people looking. You and him – it’s unusual, he knows that, knows how much of a pervert it makes him, but you moaned so sweetly for him, begged so politely, wanted him so bad. Unusual is the word for it, unusually good. You don’t seem to be very nervous, which validates him further. You feel safe in his hands, as safe as you did when you asked him to walk you home that first night, and if you don’t mind the looks people are giving you, he sure as hell can put up with them.

"Your friends here?"

You like to play cards in the evenings, he knows, and even though he’d rather sit down at the bar and pull you onto his lap, he’d be happy to leave you to it if it’s what you want.

"They’re on patrol, I think," you answer, eyes glued to his as the door of the bar slams shut behind you two, effectively blocking out the cold. "What day is it again?"

Jesus Christ, you don’t even know the fucking day, all perception of time lost to your endless naps after Joel made you come in various ways over the last couple of days. He feels that insatiable fire in his loins start again, even though he’s already fucked you two times today. Either you’re supplying him with the best cardio of his life, or he’ll die of heart failure any day now.

Before he can tell you the day, he feels a hand on his shoulder, and reluctantly drags his eyes away from your pretty face. He likes when it’s flushed, from the cold or from sex, he isn’t picky.

"Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, Joel?"

 Of course it’s Tommy. He saw right through Joel the first time he caught him watching you from across the bar, and came over to your place as soon as he figured out where his brother was.

Tommy’s angry face, the curses on his lips, the way his fist banged against the door frame. 

Joel, she’s twenty fuckin’ years old. There are plenty of women who’d be happy to keep you company. Just send her home, alright? She’s been in Jackson for like a minute, she doesn’t need you complicating things for her. 

But just before Tommy knocked, hadn’t you seemed so ecstatic in Joel’s arms, your body entirely relaxed? 

She’s an adult, Tommy, ’n it’s what she wants.

He heard your bare feet on the floor, was glad Tommy couldn’t see you with the door only half open, because if he turned around to look at you right then, Joel was sure he would be able to see his spent dripping out of you and the marks his lips had left all over your neck.

"Look, Tommy, it’s like this: you think you have a say in this cause of Maria’s position in Jackson, but it’s got nothin’ to do with you. At all. So back off."

Joel’s voice is quiet, he doesn’t want to cause a scene. What he wants is to have a glass of whiskey, watch the look on every man’s face in Jackson when they realize you’re sweet on him, and then go home and fuck your lights out. By the way you won’t let go of his hand, he guesses you’re not opposed to that plan either.

So he ignores Tommy and helps you out of your jacket – his jacket – for which you reward him with one of your dazzlingly sweet smiles. He watches as you take off his pullover, too, and although it fills him with a sick pleasure to think of everybody seeing you in his clothes, he’s blessed with your naked shoulders and arms instead. Immediately, his hand finds your back, right below your neck, the spot that isn’t covered by your dress. If he’s not mistaken, you shudder under his touch. God, he wants to take you to the bathroom and really make you shudder, but he’s more than testing Tommy’s patience already. His brother is watching with a deep scowl on his face, dark brows pulled tight together.

You smile at Tommy when Joel walks you over to the bar, ever sweet to everyone around you, and it makes him weak for you. You’re everything he isn’t.

"The usual, Joel?", the barkeeper asks, his eyes widening when he spots your hand holding Joel’s, the marks on your neck he forgot to conceal for you. A scarf would have done the trick, but Jesus, he likes this physical proof of how often he’s had you stretched on his cock already. It’s near primitive how much he wants to defend his territory. For a second he wonders if the kid who pestered you the night he took you home is here, and almost snorts at the idea of you and him together. What made his blood boil that night, now seems like a joke. You didn’t want a twenty-five year old kid, you wanted Joel, Daddy, with his bad back and greying hair and popping joints. Too good to be true, but true nonetheless. 

You sit down at the bar and he joins you, nodding at the barkeeper. Your leg presses into his immediately. He understands your need to be close to him, he feels the same way, so he reaches out and drags your barstool closer to his, until he can feel your body heat even through his flannel. You fingers clutch at his knee, as if there’s no other option for you but to touch him when he’s this close. He lets you, revels in the fact that you would probably let him touch you however he wanted in return.

The barkeeper gets Joel his whiskey and you your usual – Joel smiles when he realizes you’re both creatures of habit – and you clink your glass to his.

"Cheers," he says with a smile, watching your eyes that remind him so much of Bambi, and you chuckle.

"Cheers, Daddy."

It comes naturally, and it makes something deep within him stir. He doesn’t think anyone heard, but he knows if Tommy somehow got wind of what you call him, the debauched name he drags from you with strokes of his cock or fingers, or just with a smile, well, he’d probably wring his neck. He knows he should tell you not to call him that in public, but you seem so happy to be here with Joel, any thoughts of chastising you are wiped from his mind.

"You look so pretty, baby, I forgot why we ever left the house," he mutters, making you blush and laugh lightly. His eyes follow your movement when you clench your thighs and he wants to groan. Whenever he thinks it’s sick how much, how often, he wants you, you want him right back, and any doubts shrivel up inside of him. He wishes he could take you here, make everyone watch how willing you are for him, and maybe then they’d understand that there was never another outcome than this one, maybe then he’d get you all to himself again, with nobody knocking on the door after he just pumped you full of his load. He thinks you might just let him, too.

Instead, he takes a sip of his whiskey. You’re quiet, and he wonders if you’re uncomfortable, but before he can ask, you lean up and catch his lips in a kiss. God, he should really put a stop to this before his brother has an aneurysm, but you taste so sweet. It’s just a peck, but it leaves him wanting more, and he wonders how quickly you two can get away with leaving again without making people talk more than they already will.

You’re here for a reason of course, something about keeping up appearances, though the details escape him with you fogging up his brain. But he can’t steal you away completely, or people will do more than whisper and point. A pretty girl like you, not leaving the house of an old man like him – it wouldn’t be received well, and you’ve been pushing it with the last couple of days already. So, a nice public outing, where everybody can see just how content you are, and then it’s back to Joel’s bedroom. He wonders for how long he can stop going on patrols before Tommy will threaten to throw him out of town.

"You know," he mutters, leaning down so he’s sure only you can hear him, "when we get home, you’re not wearing clothes for a week, baby. Already miss you naked."

You blush violently, but a satisfied smile curls your lips upward.

"I’ll get cold," you answer, half pouting. Joel wants to feel that pout with his thumb, but doesn’t dare.

"I’ll keep ya warm, don’t worry," he answers darkly, thoughts of your sweating, exhausted body flooding his brain. There are so many things he still hasn’t done to you, like letting you suck him off, or fucking you in his lap, your back pressed against his front. A million ways he could have you, will have you, and one by one they come to him as he watches you drink your drink in a bar full of people he knows.

It doesn’t take either of you long to finish your drinks, and Joel knows it’s stupid to leave so soon again, but he can see the way you’re subtly rubbing your thighs together, how your gaze drifts over his arms, his chest, his belly, and he really can’t leave his little girl hanging when she clearly needs him. He plans on making you say it, though he knows it can’t be here.

So the two of you leave after Joel pays, you’re out the door, jackets in hand, before Tommy can stop you. Joel will deal with him later, when he’s gotten this frenzy for you out of his system.

You’re needy, hands clutching his arm as you walk through the cold, and Joel can’t help himself, he puts an arm around you and rests his palm low on your hips, so low it makes you squirm. He strokes you there, teasing you when he knows you can’t do anything about it, and you whine for him, even though you’re in the middle of the street.

"Jesus, kid, pipe down or they’ll have my head," he mutters, and you do your best to stifle any sounds his hand coaxes out of you. Despite what he said, he doesn’t stop teasing until you’re at his doorstep, and he opens the door. He doesn’t waste time kissing you, just slams the door shut and guides you to the sofa, where you lie down on your back immediately.

"Fuck," Joel curses, "look at you, baby. Thought I was gonna have to fuck you right over that barstool, that's how sweet you look."

You moan and your hands grasp at his collar, opening the buttons one by one, trying to get him naked as quickly as possible.

"Needed you so bad, Daddy, and I couldn’t tell you," you admit almost timidly.

"Oh baby," Joel answers, helping you with the buttons, "If you need Daddy to get you off, you tell me and I’ll help you out, alright? We could’ve gone to the bathroom."

His shirt is off now, and starts pulling your dress over your head.

"They would’ve known what we were up to," you breathe, half naked under Joel’s big form, your breasts exposed now.

"Shit, kiddo, they knew already," Joel groans, opening his belt buckle, "'s all over your face how bad you want this cock, bathroom or no bathroom."

You blush at his words, watching him pull down his jeans and boxers with wide eyes, and he can almost taste your desire.

"Don’t worry, baby, I like how much you need it," Joel breathes, and finally kisses you, his practiced fingers finding your panties easily and dragging them down, your hips lifting from the couch to help him.

"Yeah," you breathe against his lips, "Need you all the time, Daddy."

Something in him snaps at this admission, because part of him expects you to run out on him any day, that you’ll snap out of whatever craze you’re in and realize fucking a man almost forty years your senior can’t possibly be what you want – but you never do. You just look at him the way you are now, all doe eyed and docile, like his every whim is your command. It shouldn’t turn him on the way it does, it really shouldn’t. A better man would send you home, a stronger man would admit Tommy is right, but Joel hasn’t been good since the end of the world began, and he’s tired of being strong, so his thick fingers find your clit and he watches in awe how your head falls back, your pretty eyes rolling upwards.

"Say that again, angel," he orders gently, fingers insistent and relentless, building the pressure in your tummy with practiced ease.

"I always need you, Daddy," you whimper, hips bucking on their own accord. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve a sweet thing like you to bury himself into, to want his seed so badly you beg him for it, but he’s done questioning, and pumps his fist over his hard cock a couple of times, watching your face contorted in pleasure.

He aligns himself with your entrance, easing up on your aching clit, because he can sense your orgasm impending, and pushes into the tight heat of your body with a grunt. He stopped being careful several days ago, and although you yelp, your face splits into a satisfied smile when he fills you up, like you really have been waiting for it since the moment he pulled out of you this afternoon.

"Take my cock so well, baby," he mutters, and starts slamming into you. His pace isn’t punishing, but it’s fast and deep, after seeing you among other people, his need to stake his claim over you having grown. He wants to pump you full of his load, have it dripping out of you wherever you go, have it swelling up your belly and making it impossible for anyone to take you away from him. Surely, if you were pregnant, even Tommy would admit it’s best for you two to be together.

He fucks you into the mattress, hips snapping into yours, his belly nudging your body and the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing your clit just right. There’s no need for you to move with him, not when his pace feels so good, when it builds that coil in your stomach so unrelentingly, and soon he can feel the way you flutter and clench, that telltale sign that you’re almost there. Normally he would make you wait for it, tell you to ask for Daddy’s permission, but you were so good at the bar, didn’t want to expose just how badly you needed his cock to stretch you out, so he plans on rewarding you. There’s certain benefits to his age, like the stamina he built over the last four decades.

"Daddy," you cry, your whole body rocking with the impact of his thrusts, and he chuckles.

"'S okay, angel, you let go whenever you want to, but I’m not near done with you."

His hands roam over your body, your pebbled nipples, the column of your throat, your waist. When he presses down on your stomach, feeling himself all the way inside of you, nudging against that spot only he seems to be able to reach, you tip your head back and gush around him, a trembling mess under his big body.

"Goood girl, there we go," he mutters, but doesn’t stop even when it starts to feel like it’s almost too much and your orgasm fades. You don’t ask him to stop either, though he would, if you did. No way he’d harm you, it’s just that you seem to enjoy a little hurt.

He hoists you up and slips out of you briefly, which draws a petulant whine from your throat.

"Easy, baby, just a second," he soothes, and sits you both up so that you’re on his lap, his belly pressed against your back, and his hot breath right at your ear. His voice is so close, it might as well be inside your head.

"There you go, you quit your whinin’," he drawls, and forces his cock back into you. His arms wrap around your torso, holding you to him completely, his hips snapping upwards forcefully, your whole body rocking against his with the impact.

His right hand comes up to your neck, clutching your hair, while his other hand grabs your tit, and you’re helpless to do anything but crane your neck and grasp his large hand with your little one. Your body is overstimulated from your first orgasm, but Joel doesn’t let up, and quickly, he can feel another one building inside of you by the way you clench, the way your cries become a little more breathy.

"Gonna give your Daddy another one, sweet girl? Gonna come on this cock again? Yeah, I think you will, think you’d come as many times as I tell you to," he huffs, the vibrations of his voice sparking goosebumps on your skin.

"Yes, D-daddy," you groan, "as much as you want."

"Go on then, kiddo, let me have it."

He thrusts up particularly hard, his big arms trapping you against his wide body, engulfing you, as you shudder and whine. When you’re done, you go limp against him, barely able to hold yourself up, but Joel’s arms hold you steady, and he mouths at your neck, sucking fresh bruises onto your skin. He marvels at the way you let him fuck you like this, even when you’re spent, and speeds up his thrusts.

"One more and you’re done," he tells you, and you shake your head against him.

"I can’t, Daddy, too much," you whine, but your core clenches and trembles, and Joel knows you have it in you.

"You can take it, baby, come on, one more for Daddy."

It takes a while, this time, your body spent, but Joel has no trouble holding off spilling his seed inside of you. If he really wanted to, he could probably make you come five times before he did himself, but he wants so badly to paint your insides with his load, to have it take and watch your belly swell. And anyway, he can just fuck you again in a couple of hours, if his age allows it. The past days, you woke up in the middle of the night and begged him for it.

"Need me to talk to you?", Joel asks, when you whine and splutter, but don’t come, and you nod frantically.

"Yes you do, angel, course you do. Just listen to Daddy’s voice, alright? Doin’ so well, takin’ everythin’ I give you."

His thrusts are slower now, but deeper, grazing your cervix, his hand still clutching your hair so that your throat is exposed.

"You’re really something, baby, lettin’ an old man like me fuck you like this," he rambles, not really sure why he’s bringing up his age when surely it will make you see sense, but if anything, your whines grow louder, like his age is turning you on.

"You like that? You like letting and old man fuck you full of his cum?"

Your sweet pussy flutters around him at the mention of him filling you up, and he almost comes. His jaw is slack, mouth bumping into your neck with every thrust.

"Not an old man, Daddy," you whimper, "just you."

Joel’s hips stutter for a moment, but he quickly regains control over his rhythm.

"That’s right, baby, only I get to cum inside of you," he groans, "You want it?"

You nod, a weak twitch of your head, and usually he’d make you use your words, but you’re limp and exhausted, so he decides to let it slide.

"Alright baby, you can have it as soon as you come again for Daddy."

He can feel you actually put an effort into it, the muscles in your stomach clenching and unclenching, and the idea of you wanting his load that bad makes him curse. He can feel your body tense, can hear the way your breathing grows shallow, and then you’re crying, a real sob tearing through your chest, as you come on his cock for the third time.

He wants to praise you for it, but he just keeps punching into you, feeling your hot tears drop onto his hand and making a sick satisfaction pool in his stomach, and then he’s clutching you to his body tightly, burying himself inside of you as deeply as possible, and white hot pleasure erupts behind his eyes as his cock twitches and coats your inside with his spent. He fucks it up into you, imagines the effect it might have if he does it often enough.

You’re weak in his arms when he pulls out of you, your eyes closed, and he gently lets the two of you sink into the couch, your legs automatically wrapping around his thigh. He can feel himself drip out of you. Next time he vows to let you sleep with his cock still inside of you, so that there’s no way you won’t fall pregnant.

"Good girl," he whispers into your hair, and even in your exhausted haze, you smile, mouth half slack. He tugs you close to him, his hands tracing patterns on your skin.

Tommy is not right, he thinks, it cannot be wrong to feel as happy as he feels, as happy as you look, tucked against him and dripping onto his thigh.