#i would have to think more on the roles but i would love to hear other thoughts if anyone has suggestions!

[excusetowrite]

Let Him In (2)

Part One Part Two

Summary: On a sweltering southern film set, our young actress discovers that the hardest part of her role isn’t the intimacy written in the script—it’s the desire building between takes. With every lingering touch and look that lasts too long, her co-star Jack pulls her deeper into a dangerous game of blurred lines and buried desires. And when the cameras roll on their most intimate scene yet, she’s left wondering if she ever really had a choice—or if the performance became something far more consuming.

Warnings: Minors DNI. Lots of themes of obsession and possession here. Flirting, tension, talks of smut, and a very very heated filmed scene that you'll have to read for yourself. Nothing too out of the ordinary for this type of fic, hope you enjoy part two. And yes, there will be more >:))

The Taste of Pretending

At first, I thought his Irish accent would be the death of me, but I quickly learned I also have a thing for Southern men. Jack was kind-too kind sometimes. And whether he liked making me nervous or just cared too much about his craft, the effect was the same: I couldn’t breathe around him. We spent a long time that first night going over our scene for the next day and though I fought my mind from roaming Jack was nothing but respectful- and charming, and dreamy, and distracting. He fell into character in a way that shocked me and for me it was easy to pretend to be infatuated with him because it wasn’t so far from the truth. 

The first scene was on the log with Mary. I didn’t have many lines, Imogen in general doesn’t have many lines after she’s turned. All I had to do was sit there, on his right, his arm possessively around my waist, then later when the scene turned more intense gripped on my thigh. Imogen stares at Mary as if in a love-sick trance, only speaking up when spoken to directly. We filmed that scene many times that day and from many different angles. Hours of close intimate contact, some takes more, some less, but always constant. 

The next few weeks were more of the same. We filmed most of the outdoor scenes and fight sequences—those were tough. One night, we had to cut because of an alligator in the water, and after that, Jack kept very close. Hiding my attraction was incredibly hard especially when the work was already so intimate. I caught myself staring at him- his arms, his chest, his waist, lower. No better than a man. At least I could blame it on method acting- pretend that my lingering stares and flushed cheeks were just part of the role. When we would wrap for the night he would walk with me to our trailers after we got out of hair and makeup, sometimes asking to come in to work on something and sometimes I think he could tell I was just too tired. The nights were long, and most of our sleep schedules were completely ruined by that point. 

There came a point when I noticed that some of the times I invited him in we talked less and less about whatever we were working on the next day, around this time I also noticed his roaming eyes. I was partial to nightgowns and it wasn’t like I wasn’t already treating him like eye candy. Our scenes were becoming dangerously easy to shoot. I wanted to believe it was chemistry, but deep down, I knew it was something else, something harder to turn off when the cameras stopped rolling. One particular evening we were sitting across from each other sharing some drinks in my trailer, supposedly giving each other notes, when he let me go off topic. It was so easy to talk to him, and he seemed like he wanted to listen, and my drink had me feeling a little tipsy, so I talked. Rambled, really. He would interject curiously to keep the conversation moving but really I think he just wanted to hear me. That's when it came up that I used to write.

“Oh that’s awesome, a woman of many talents. What’d ye write about?” he asked as his lips perked up at the corners. 

“Fanfictions,” I blurted, regretting it the second the word left my mouth. “That was a long time ago though, I stopped when I was sixteen or seventeen maybe.” 

His laugh was low and knowing, not mocking—more like he’d just confirmed a long-held suspicion. “Of course ye did,” he teased, eyes sparkling over the rim of his glass. “Let me guess... scandalous ones?” 

There was no stopping the heat that rushed to my cheeks and my comfortable demeanor immediately fell away as flashes of my stories of him rushed through my mind. Involuntarily I crossed my legs as embarrassment, and slight arousal overtook me. He could see the shift and his eyes and smile widened in a way that reminded me so much of Cook. I tried to take the humility on the nose as I shrugged and we laughed. 

“Who was lucky enough to earn the perverted attention of teenage you?” he asked as our laughs calmed. 

I leaned back into the cushion, his eyes jumping for a split second to the rising hemline of my nightgown. His gaze flicked lower, and I swear I felt the path of it like a physical touch. My skin prickled under the thin fabric. I shifted, suddenly hyperaware of how every small movement seemed like a silent confession. Lifting my drink to my mouth I responded, “That—I’m not sharing,” I shot back, trying to sound confident even as my cheeks burned. “Some things are better left buried in the dark corners of the internet where I left them.” Sure, he could know I was a horny teen—I mean, who wasn’t? The rest stays a secret. 

His smile turned sharp. “Dangerous to leave things buried, love. They’ve got a way of clawing their way back up.” For a beat, the air felt heavier, like the moment just before a storm breaks. He leaned back in his seat, legs stretched out, his eyes dragging over me slow and deliberate. I suddenly became acutely aware of how thin my nightgown really was. He eyed me curiously and smirked before moving back to our scripts.

That was the first night I crossed a line. An imaginary line that only I knew about, but a line nonetheless. By the time Jack retired to his own trailer it was early morning and I was just a little more than tipsy. The alcohol made it harder not to look at him, to think about him, and the time I spent sitting there became incredibly frustrating. As soon as he was gone and I was in my bed alone, I did it. Reading it was bad enough. Finding release to the stories and photos of the man in the trailer next to mine made me feel wrong, but also more excited than I had been in a very long time. 

—

I’m proud to say that I’ve held my own as an amateur in this cast of actors by trade. I was also happy to have built a genuine friendship with my co-stars, especially Jack. We were always together on set of course, but I felt myself gravitating towards him off set as well. An intrusion he did not mind. 

The flirty game of a friendship we had was fun, but the first time I noticed a real shift was when we filmed the scene trying to get into Club Juke. Remmick and Imogen, Joan and Bert, two white couples just trying to sing some music and have a good time. Like always Jack- Remmick’s arm was around my waist and on one particular take Michaels character Stack looked over me in a different way than the previous takes. More intently, with more intrigue. We all tried different stuff many of the takes we did and this was no different than that, just an option to pick later. Completely improvised. 

What was also improvised was the flash of anger that crossed Remmick’s face, just for a split second, blink and you’ll miss it. And the charming smile was back, but not before his grip on my hip tightened to almost an uncomfortable amount. The mood shifted—subtle but sharp, like the snap of a wire pulled too tight. No one else seemed to notice, but I felt it in every nerve under his hand. Still I stayed in character. Still I looked at Jack starry eyed and tried to capture a reason on his face but the character had taken over him again. It was the way his fingers dug into my hips—not enough to hurt, but enough to leave the ghost of pressure behind. His grip said, mine, even if no one else could see it. And the way he looked at me—dark, focused, like he was memorizing every inch—made me feel owned in a way that wasn’t in the script. We finished the scene and that was the end of it, though when our characters walked away slowly I couldn’t help but notice how tense Jack was, how the arm shrugged over my shoulders was not loosely hanging but wrapped possessively. 

Later that evening when I left hair and makeup he was already waiting for me. We walked in near silence this time. The air between us felt heavier than the heat hanging over the set. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his head ducked just enough to make me wonder if he was thinking as hard as I was trying not to. Every few steps, our arms would almost brush. Almost. Neither of us closed the gap. As we approached our trailers I went to ask him if he was alright but before I could he turned and asked, “You know what we’re filming tomorrow, right?”

I racked my mind for a moment before my cheeks flushed, yes, our next scene was the one where he turns me, and during a lustful act to say the least. I had been putting off mentally preparing for that day and for the separation I’d have to manage in my head between my own attraction and Imogens and in doing so the day snuck up on me. His words felt like a warning and a promise all at once. I nodded, but my throat had gone too tight to say anything clever back. And wasn’t that just the problem? I never had the right words around him—not when it mattered. He returned the nod as I began to walk up the steps to my trailer, eager to be out of the uncomfortable situation. 

“Will you ever tell me?” he asked up at me. I turned to look at him, confusion furrowing my brow. “Who you wrote your smut about?” 

I laughed lightly and shook my head, again turning to go into my trailer. I stopped at the top of the steps and turned, just enough to look down at him. He stood there, hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels like he wasn’t sure whether to stay or go. For once, I wasn’t the one squirming under his gaze. He was the one hesitating. Waiting. 

“So, I take it you don’t want to invite me in to practice tonight?” he asked. This time when I turned to look at him he was smiling, but I could tell he was nervous. 

I let my eyes drag over him slowly- deliberately. His jaw tightened. His shoulders tensed like he was bracing for a blow or something much worse: rejection.

“Do you want me to?” I asked, voice light, teasing. But it was the kind of tease that knew exactly how much weight it carried. His mouth parted- no sound. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, and God, it was almost too easy now. I watched the nerves flicker across his face like he wasn’t used to being the one left standing in the heat of his own want. I asked. I don’t think he was expecting that response because his smile fell away and for the first time he was the one looking at me nervously. “Hmm,” I hummed, stepping back toward the door, letting the screen swing half-closed between us. “I think I’m better at improvising that sort of thing.” Then, with a smile just this side of wicked, I added, “Goodnight, Remmick,” and closed the door behind me, leaving him out there in the thick, humid air with nothing but his imagination to keep him company. 

Later that evening in the comfort of my own bed I did it again. Masturbating to someone you know personally will always be weird, and I am not recommending doing it. But there is something about it that gets me very hot and bothered. Especially knowing he’s right next door, and especially after trying to prepare myself for the next day.

—

  The next day was a closed set. Only us, the intimacy coordinator, director, and needed techs. We had already filmed the scene leading up to it days ago. Imogen, walking home from her job in town late at night, unknowing of Remmick watching her from the woods. He could smell her blood and it smelled like his own, he liked that- took that as a sign. That’s what the script says at least. Of course they stumble across each other and he offers to walk her home like a gentleman, it’s dangerous on these roads at night for a pretty lady to walk alone. Imogen isn’t used to the attention, especially not from a handsome man. Her fathers protective and the only interaction Imogen usually gets is from customers at her job, customers who do not like her Irish born father. 

It’s a long walk of course and Remmick asks for a drink of water when we reach the porch. Imogen considers for a moment, her father would not approve, but her mother and father were out of town right now. And Remmick was very, very convincing. So she does what any other girl in her position would do. She lets him in. 

We ran through the rough blocking with Ryan and the intimacy coordinator a few times before we started filming for real, and that was intense enough. Starting in the small living room and moving to the kitchen, the counter, the table. I could do this. This is going to be easy. I’m a professional. Before I know it we are on our marks and someone yells action. 

It’s easy to fall into Imogen especially after all this time, easy to remember my lust as I look at him standing in front of me, and equally as easy to anxiously turn and rush into the kitchen to start filling a glass of water. My back is to him but I know he’s approaching. Predator and prey. 

“So, pretty girl like yourself lives out here all alone?” he asks as he enters the kitchen. 

I turn to look at him, his grey contacts are in but I pretend like I don’t notice. “No,” I respond as I hand him the glass of water and continue, “My Ma and Pa are usually here but they’re gone right now.”

He nods his head knowingly and drinks the water, a smile spreading across his face as he starts to approach me. My back hits the counter as he enters my space to set his glass behind me and I- Imogen- suck in a breath. He smells like Jack, like cologne and tobacco. I close my eyes at the realization and hope it fits for the scene. How many time had I imagined that scent late at night? He doesn’t move out of my space. Remmick takes space; he doesn't retreat from it. 

His voice is low as he says, “Hmm, don’t they think that’s kinda dangerous? Leaving you out here all by yourself?” He shrugs a little, the distance between us nearly closed as I come to meet his eyes. I can’t tell who I’m looking at. Jack, or Remmick. 

“I can take care of myself,” I say as I turn my head to the side sheepishly. I know he’s hit his cue to stare at my unknowingly exposed neck when I hear him suck in a sharp breath. 

“Oh, I bet you can.” The scene moves at an agonizing pace, and I can feel the tension rising—between us, in the room, in me. It only breaks when I finally look up at him and for that split second I see him, not Remmick but Jack, before the obsession returns and he closes the distance, lips crashing into mine. 

Being kissed like this feels like possession, feels like melting into him, feels like full surrender. It was hard and fast and heated. His hands grabbing and roaming my middle. Suddenly I’m lifted off the ground by strong arms and set firmly on the counter earning a gasp even though I knew it was coming. He’s standing between my legs now, just close enough to be professional and just far enough to be frustrating. Still we devour each other. His hand goes to my hair and nestles for a moment before pulling my head to the side, exposing my neck to him. 

He kisses down my flesh sloppily, nibbling and sucking in all the right spots. A moan escapes me, a real one, but no one will know. I’m an actress, I’m supposed to be acting. Still at this I feel him groan into my skin before continuing his assault. 

He doesn’t bite, not how Remmick is supposed to. Instead after we know they have more than enough film he pulls away and sucks in a deep breath, composing himself. His hand is still rooted in my hair and his eyes lock onto mine as he says, “I want to taste you.” It’s the closest to a question that he was going to get. I nod my head eagerly and he smiles greedily, as far as he’s concerned he already has me. And as far as I’m concerned he does as well. 

He returns to kissing me, gentler this time, hands sliding up my exposed legs and under the hem of my skirt at an agonizing pace. There's lube spread across the inside of my upper thigh and as soon as I feel him run his fingers through it my eyes widen and I throw my head back in a gasp. Remmick smiles and watches me greedily, finding pleasure in knowing he already has this control over me. We act it out for a few more beats before he finally removes his hand and lifts his glistening fingers for me to see. 

“All this for me?” he asks, lifting his finger to his mouth. He sucks on it slowly, eyes closing, brow furrowing like he’s savoring a delicacy. I watch him, hungrily and enthralled, then when his finger finally leaves his mouth he's dead calm as he lifts his pointer and middle to my lips. “Taste,” he orders. So I do. Slowly at first, then more greedily. The lube is strawberry flavored, but I can taste him as well. Sometimes there is no movie magic for these sort of one shot scenes. He just stands there watching me, heavy breathing and eyes blown out. When he finally removes his fingers with a pop he doesn’t hit his line immediately, for a second he just blinks, as if for just a second he forgot. But then he shakes his head. “Not enough,” is the only warning I get before he's kneeling before me and hiking my dress up, head dipping between my thighs. 

Of course it went no further than that but we still had a job to do. He started miming the intimate moment, just inches away from where I wanted him the most. I threw my head back and moaned, brow furrowing, one hand bracing myself on the counter while the other flew to tangle in his hair and I gently began pulling. This earned a growl from him and he moved more feverishly. I felt him rub his lips and chin across the lube and I could have sworn I felt it, soft kisses moving along the inside of my thigh where the lube was placed, a trick of the mind- heat of the moment. It helped me perform either way, helped me be more believable. His hands held my hips firmly in place, legs hiked over his shoulders, if I wanted to move I couldn’t- I didn’t want to. 

I gently squeezed his head twice—just barely. The cue we decided to use when I’d act like I was reaching climax. And boy, was I acting. I’ve never seen him move so quickly, one second on the ground before me and the next he was up again and lifting me off the counter earning a genuine gasp from me. 

“Not yet,” he said, his mouth and chin glistening with more than just the lube on account of the drool-inducing mints. “Not until I say so.” My legs wrapped around his center and arms around his neck as he turned and walked me to the table, holding me with one strong arm as the other brushed everything off of it in one swift motion before setting me down and standing before me. 

My hands moved hastily to grasp at the buttons of his shirt, but he stopped that with one swift motion yanking it over his head and slinging it on the ground. Chest now bared to me I made quick work of curiously roaming and kissing his newly exposed skin. His head dipped back and he let out a moan. I may have been leaving marks, but I didn’t care, and he must not have either because he didn’t stop me. Just left me to make sloppy work across him while they got their shot. 

Then, more calmly than any man should have been, he grabbed either side of my shirt collar and ripped my blouse open, loosely sewn buttons flying everywhere, leaving me in just the bra. He moved fast on the newly exposed skin, kissing and sucking, nibbling and- biting. There was only one place to go from here and we were fastly approaching that cue. 

His hands hiked my skirt up before fiddling with his buckle. My arms wrapped around his neck, our brows pushed together, eyes locked as we acted out passing that final precipice. We both let out groans of satisfaction before he started to move his hips, hands gripped on my waist. Of course there was fabric between us, but every few thrusts he got just a little too close, brushed up against where I wanted him the most ever so slightly, earning real moans and groans from me- but they were frustration not pleasure. I hope the camera can’t tell the difference. 

I had to move or I was going to explode, so I did. I improvised, laying back on the table, arms stretched above my head, body revealed and vulnerable before him. He didn’t miss a beat, and when I opened my eyes to glance up at him, his brow was sweaty and furrowed with pleasure, mouth hanging open, letting out lewd noises I’d only dreamed of. His chest still glistened, blooming with fresh marks just how I’d left it. His eyes locked on mine, and we shared a few glorious, intimate beats holding that eye contact. It almost felt real. Almost.

Then they yelled cut.

He stopped and backed away immediately, eyes darting anywhere but me. The sudden lack of warmth felt wrong. I felt vulnerable. I sat up and pulled my blouse closed with both hands.

“Was that good?” I called out toward the lights and cameras. The response was an enthusiastic yes. They just had to switch Jack's contacts and put in his prosthetic teeth for the final shot. No blood this time- leave that to the viewers’ imagination. I was told to stay put while they got him ready. He didn’t look at me as he walked away. Didn’t look at me when he came back, either. Eyes red now, the simpler set of sharp teeth in.

He got into position between my legs again, and we waited a minute while they reset the shot. Even this close, inches away, he avoided my gaze. Anxiety twisted low in my stomach and climbed, cold and tight, into my chest. Sitting bare and exposed in front of him, and he wouldn’t even look at me. He’d had no problem looking at me a few minutes ago when he was pretending to fuck my brains out.

“Did I do something wrong?” I whispered, the space between us so small no one else could hear.

His head snapped toward me, eyes wide. “No, no,” he said quickly, in his regular accent. “Just trying to stay in the right headspace is all.” He offered a weak smile. It didn’t make me feel any better. But it didn’t matter. They called for us to get back into position.

I laid back again, and before I knew it, Jack was gone—once again replaced with Remmick’s hungry gaze. So I tried to do the same, to put on the mask that was Imogen just as easily as he did. We picked up right where we’d left off- just a few seconds while they captured the transition. But my mind wandered, anxiety still lodged in my chest.

“Come here,” he commanded, loud enough for the boom mics to catch. I saw his eyes, his teeth, but Imogen’s lust had blinded her, or maybe made her unafraid of the man in front of her. So I rose to meet him.

His arms wrapped firmly around my bare waist, mine went around his neck once again—but that was all I could manage. I was struggling to find the rhythm again, to pull myself back into the aroused state I’d been in just minutes before.

He didn’t falter. He just gripped me tighter and whispered in my ear, low enough that no one else could hear:

“What’d you write about me?”

I gripped his neck harder, and a moan escaped my mouth as images flashed through my head. The stories I had written. The ones I had only imagined. The heat I felt each night in bed, thinking of him- him, the man in front of me.

I was back- lost in it. Moaning, head thrown back, eyes rolling. Then my brow pressed against his again as the camera moved behind him, angling for the final shot. While his face was still out of frame, he whispered:

“I knew it.”

He smiled, sinister with the teeth and contacts, and it only made me act harder.

The camera captured the shot of us, hungry, locked in each other’s gaze. We both began to speed up, reaching our fake climaxes. It was so easy to pretend. That’s when she does it- when I do it. I tilt my head to the side, baring my throat to him, offering myself without hesitation, without fear.

The last thing the cameras catch is him going in for the bite. The last part I feel is his breath- hot, deliberate- right where my pulse hammers loudest. And I don't know where Imogen starts and I begin anymore.

[luza-wayne]

who fell in love first.

characters: sanemi, giyuu, gyuutarou, obanai, yoriichi, uzui, haganezuka, rengoku, gyomei, akaza, muzan, kakushibo, douma

knb next!

shinazugawa sanemi (co-hashira)

it’s you, it’s obvious.

he’s the type of person to not notice you unless you do something that really leaves a mark in his mind and heart.

he probably wouldn’t care about you, even glance at you until you decide to make an impression on him.

tomioka giyuu (co-hashira)

him because you couldn’t even talk to him at first, because of the wall he built around himself.

he’ll be the first one to fall for you as soon as he sees you trying to strike up a conversation with him, not out of obligation anymore, but just pure curiosity.

will probably admire you quietly and from afar.

gyuutarou (upper ranks)

gyuutarou will be the first one to fall.

not the type to dwell on his feelings for long, because he’s convinced himself that he’s not worthy of love nor is it worth his time.

would act like he doesn’t care or you’re just another annoying demon everytime you’re near.

iguro obanai (co-hashira)

you, mainly because of his hate on women.

would only talk to you once he made sure you’re not like the woman in his family and strong like the rest of the hashiras.

he’s the type to always debate with himself whether he sees the way you look at him, but also doesn’t want to believe it, thinking he’s not deserving of that and there’s no way you would see him like that, even though it’s so obvious.

yoriichi (slayer-civilian)

you will be the first one to fall for this guy.

the way he’s always protecting your town and checking on you without fail, makes it hard for you not to develop feelings for him.

the type to realize from the get-go about your feelings, but would be nonchalant about it and it won’t be much different even after you confess.

though, it’s not easy to miss how softer he got for you.

uzui tengen (shinobi-kunoichi)

come on, no need to think about it, of course, it’s you.

his flashy personality is enough to hook your interest.

his caring side will nail your feelings deep. he’s very observant and will be very upfront about how he feels to you, though the teasing wouldn’t disappear.

haganezuka hotaru (any dynamic or trope)

he’ll be first.

the type to be either really annoying when he likes you just to make you notice him or you wouldn’t even catch a glimpse of even a strand of his hair because he gets nervous when near you. i can’t choose, so there’s no in between, ‘cause i said so.

also the type to blush even with just a mention of your name, so everyone basically knows his little crush on you.

rengoku kyojuro (any dynamic or trope)

y.o.u. 

anything he does leaves a great impact not just on you, but anyone else.

is used to being admired, so he couldn’t discern admiration from love from other people. you will surely have many competitions anyways.

as soon as he finds himself falling for you too, he’ll be the type to not hide it from you.

himejima gyomei (co-hashiras)

it will be you, but of course, he’ll be aware of it right from the start because of his enhanced hearing.

not the type to point it out or tease you about it and will act the same as always, even while talking to you.

he will be more attentive to your voice even in a room full of people and that’s when he knows you’re not just a coworker anymore.

akaza (upper rank-lower rank)

you’ll be the first one to fall for him

his amazing hold on not eating women and kids will surely grab your attention as soon as you hear about it.

he’s the type to not care about it even if you confess to him in his face, but as years passes and you still show the same enthusiasm as before, he might get a little curious about you.

kibutsuji muzan (demon-human)

yeah, it’s you.

if you're from a distinguished or wealthy family, he might humor your feelings for the sake of using you.

the type to openly disregard his obvious favoritism to you and labeling it as something as just ‘playing the role as a husband’.

kokushibo (upper rank-new demon)

you, because he was too busy being better than his brother.

he’s the type to treat you decently as long as you’re not being disrespectful of muzan and his rules.

couldn’t care less about your obvious love for him as long as it doesn’t get in the way of orders and missions.

will only act or reciprocate your feelings once he is given permission.

douma (leader-devotee)

obviously, it’s you.

he didn’t even know the feeling of real love before came to the cult.

he’s the type to constantly try to get a reaction from you in any way he can. teasing, flirting, playing around— you name it, he’d be doing it as soon as he learned about how you feel.

will unknowingly develop his feelings and would wonder why he gets that dread feeling everytime he teases you too much and you ignore him.

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i hope you enjoyed it!

[mummyemmatojames]

45. The Comfort of Monkey: A Teddy That’s Become my Little Boy’s Best Friend

Hello, wonderful community! Emma here, your Mummy-in-training, back with another update on our MDLB and FLR journey. Today, I’m sharing something that’s brought so much joy to our dynamic: the heartwarming role of James’s teddy, a soft little monkey he’s named “Monkey.” It took a few tries and plenty of gentle nudging from me, but now my sweet boy won’t sleep without his furry friend, and it’s become a special part of our routine—both at night and during cozy daytime moments. I’m excited to dive into how Monkey has woven himself into our dynamic, and I’d love to hear your stories about comfort items in your own journeys!

How Monkey Became a Must-Have

When we first leaned into the MDLB dynamic, I wanted to introduce a comfort item to help James feel safe and grounded in his little space, especially since the “little” aspects were new and sometimes uncomfortable for him. I picked out a plush monkey from a local shop—soft, brown, with big round eyes and a cheeky grin—because it felt playful yet not too babyish for his 10-year-old little age. I named him “Monkey” (not the most creative, I know, but it stuck!), and I hoped it would become a source of comfort for James.

At first, James was skeptical. When I tucked Monkey into bed with him during our early bedtime routines, he’d push it aside, saying, “I’m not a kid, Emma, I don’t need a stuffed animal.” I didn’t push too hard, but I kept gently encouraging him, slipping Monkey under his arm during storytime or leaving it on his pillow with a note from “Mummy” saying, “Monkey missed you today!” It took a few weeks of consistent reminders—me saying, “Don’t forget Monkey, little one, he keeps you safe at night”—but slowly, James started to soften. One night, I caught him pulling Monkey close as he drifted off, and my heart just melted.

Now, Monkey is non-negotiable. James won’t sleep without him, clutching him tight all night, and he’s even started cuddling Monkey during the day—especially when we’re snuggled up watching a movie. It’s the cutest thing, seeing my big, strong husband curled up with his little monkey, looking so peaceful and small.

Monkey’s Role in Our Dynamic

Monkey has become more than just a teddy—he’s a symbol of James’s little space and a way for me to nurture him as his Mummy. At night, during our bedtime routine (which is finally smoothing out, thanks to your advice!), I hand him Monkey as I tuck him in, saying, “Here’s your best friend to keep you cozy.” It’s become a ritual that signals the shift to his little headspace, helping him let go of the day’s stresses. The way he hugs Monkey tight, sometimes burying his face in the soft fur, tells me it’s working—he feels safe and loved.

During the day, Monkey makes appearances too. When we’re watching a family-friendly film like Toy Story or The Incredibles, James will grab Monkey from his room and cuddle him on the couch, often leaning into me at the same time. It’s like Monkey gives him permission to be vulnerable, to let me take care of him without feeling self-conscious. One adorable moment last weekend: we were watching Finding Nemo, and James was so engrossed, clutching Monkey and giggling at Dory’s lines. I reached over to stroke his hair, and he just sighed contentedly—Monkey in one arm, Mummy’s love all around him. Those moments are pure magic.

Why Monkey Works So Well

I think Monkey’s appeal comes from his perfect balance of playful and comforting. His soft, huggable texture is ideal for cuddling, and the size—about 12 inches tall—fits perfectly under James’s arm or tucked against his chest. The big, friendly eyes and stitched smile give him a personality that’s not too childish, which suits James’s 10-year-old little age. He’s also sturdy, holding up to all the squeezing and tossing around without losing his shape or getting lumpy.

What’s been most special is how Monkey has helped James embrace his little side. He’s still shy about some aspects of the dynamic, but Monkey seems to be a safe bridge—a way for him to feel like a kid without worrying about judgment. I’ve noticed he’s less tense at bedtime now, and I think Monkey’s presence is a big part of that. It’s like having a constant reminder that Mummy’s rules are there to keep him safe, and Monkey’s there to keep him company.

Challenges and How We Got There

It wasn’t all smooth sailing. Early on, James’s resistance to Monkey made me second-guess whether a teddy was the right fit. He’d roll his eyes or leave Monkey on the floor, and I worried I was pushing too hard. But I kept it light—never forcing it, just making Monkey a consistent part of our routine with little encouragements. I’d say things like, “Monkey’s feeling lonely without his best friend!” or tuck him in with a playful pat. Over time, James started reaching for Monkey on his own, especially on tough days when he needed extra comfort. It taught me that patience is key—sometimes it takes a lot of gentle nudging for a little one to accept something new.

Questions for the Community

I’d love to hear from you all about your experiences with comfort items in your dynamics! What teddies or other cozy things have worked for your littles? How did you help your partner warm up to them if they were hesitant at first? Are there ways you’ve made a teddy part of your routine—like special games or rituals—that deepen the MDLB bond? And for daytime cuddles, any tips for encouraging that vulnerability without making it feel too “babyish” for a 10-year-old little age?

Thank you all for being such a warm, supportive community. Seeing James cuddle Monkey has brought so much joy to my Mummy heart, and I’m excited to keep growing in this dynamic with your wisdom!

With all my love,

Emma (aka Mummy) 💕

[cinnabar-circus]

2023 | 99

[naturepointstheway]

Vienna 1989/90 giving me that tasty Tuggoffelees juice at the end of Mistoffelees' number. Love how Misto just spins Tugger away. It also actually reminds me a lot of a very similar duo spin dance at the end of this number that happens in Zurich with Lindsay Chambers' Misto, but instead it's with Munkustrap rather than Tugger.

And in Zurich's case, well, let's say that this Misto has a very different experience to Valentin's (who reminds me a lot of Tim Scott's Misto, especially with the makeup), and Munk is more showing he has accepted him fully.

@absolutehumandisaster - hope you don't mind me tagging you as I feel you'd be interested in my "little" tag ramble/thoughts on Valentin's vs Chambers' Mistos and how Valentin's is Chambers' Misto once he is fully accepted and has grown exponentially in confidence by the next Jellicle Ball.

[nycorix]

thinking about my former musical hyperfixations while I have starkid on the brain and now I'm having fun fancasting starkid be more chill lollll

Jeremy - Joey Richter

Michael - James Tolbert

Squip - Jon Matteson

Christine - Lauren Lopez

Rich - Curt Mega

Chloe - Mariah Rose Faith Casillas

Brooke - Angela Giarratana

Jenna - Bryce Charles

Jake - Jeff Blim

Mr Heere - Dylan Saunders

Mr. Reyes - Corey Dorris

Scary Stock Boy - Jae Hughes

[nakanotamu]

I’ve seen loads of people atp talking about “when did Imogen realize she was in love with Laudna”, was it after being separated for weeks for the first time in years? Was it when Laudna died? Was it when they fought? And maybe Laura will talk about it on 4-Sided Dive and we’ll get a concrete answer. And I don’t mean to step on anyone’s headcanons or anything if you are mapping it to one of those moments.

And I see people talking about when Yu asked Imogen if her and Laudna were romantically involved and talking about how Imogen had never considered that before, and maybe I’m missing something, but that’s... just not how that scene reads to me, honestly. I watch the way Imogen reacts there and I see, despite the fight they were having and everything going on, someone reaching for any reason to say anything other than the hard truth she’s so frustrated with, trying to find anything remotely plausible that isn’t just “...No.”

Because the thing is, the way it comes across to me is that Imogen fell in love with Laudna about 2 years before the start of the campaign. The way she talked about hearing Laudna’s thoughts and it being like hearing music for the first time... that girl was in love right away. Day 1.

[muraae]

i’m sorry (but also really not) but this the vaultghoul poto au has me in a chokehold- and i don’t know if i’ll ever write or if someone else wants the challenge, but here are my thoughts on what the au could be.

a vaultghoul phantom of the opera au where cooper is the phantom and lucy is christine.

would have elements from both the book, musical, and the show.

cooper obviously looks like how he is in the show for his disfigurement, and wears a black half mask to cover the upper half of his- also kudos for this because coop does look exactly like erik (the phantom) in the book.

debating if cooper will be born deformed or someone or something causes him to be disfigured.

i personally like the latter more just to play with the idea of cooper once being a famous star within the opera house who befell a terrible incident that ruined his life and is now embittered and angry, wishing to exact vengeance against those that ruined his life.

only a slightish change, but ‘the ghoul’ is added along with ‘the phantom’ and ‘the opera ghost’ as his other aliases.

lucy is a ballet dancer in the opera, the daughter of the famous soprano, rose maclean. i’m not certain where hank would be for this au, but he’s not exactly in the family picture, but i would want him to cause some kind of conflict in the future.

slow down there abbie, we don’t have time to write a full story- let’s just stick to the basics.

lucy and norm come to live and work at the opera house under the care of moldaver (madame giry) after the death of their mother- lucy in the ballet corps. and norm with the stagehands.

lucy had always been a talented singer until she hears a voice in the halls, vents, and the grand stage she visits late at night, and starts starts teaching her that the managers begin to take notice.

cooper takes notice of lucy whenever she walls the grand stage late at night singing to herself. he becomes intrigued by her.

so cooper watches lucy from afar and doesn’t make himself known to her as the ‘voice’ until he finds her crying in the opera chapel, grieving for her mother after a long, trying day.

mother said, "When i'm in heaven, child, i will send the angel of music to you."

cooper commends her voice, but tells lucy it needs training. he offers her voice lessons, promising to help lucy become the greatest singer the world has seen- does it come at a cost later on for his own purposes- that it is for all to decide if lucy is a means to an end but ends up wrecking his plans by becoming more.

fuck i’m getting sidetracked again-

over the years the two develop a bond that extends the bounds of teacher and student, cooper’s infatuation with lucy becoming deeper.

steph is lucy’s roommate and friend- sharing the role of meg with norm- and she and norm are the only two who can put up with lucy’s disappearances and odd hours, though are concerned by the strange behavior.

cooper continues to reign the opera house as his domain, demanding the managers to follow his instructions on how the opera should run, and causes ‘accidents’ if anything doesn’t go his way.

on the night of the gala, lucy finds herself replacing the prima donna when the former falls ill. she is an overnight sensation and ensnares the hearts of half the city, and much to cooper’s jealous chagrin, catches the eye of the opera’s newest patron.

i’m tempted to make maximus raoul, however, monty would fit a little better- so we’re going with monty because i want this vicomte and his intentions towards the new starlet to be sinister. because fuck monty.

lucy is at first flattered by monty’s attention, but becomes soon after uncomfortable by his advances.

and though she is charmed by the young detective (maximus) that was hired by the managers to prove there is no opera ghost, she is still drawn to the mysterious voice.

on the night of her triumph, cooper reveals himself and takes lucy into the vast underground tunnels of the opera house. it is here where lucy becomes enamored by the man who has given her so much, but is confused why he wears the mask. Surely a face would match a voice as beautiful and deep as his.

it only takes removing a mask to change the course of a relationship and for the two of them to cross the point of no return.

[itsmistyeyedbi]

@wayhavenots I saw these tag on the First Name/Rebecca Lore post I made and YES. The conversation she has with F hits different knowing that they both had to start over (although for F it obviously wasn't by choice).

Also, I don't know if you remember me mentioning a fic I want to write where Zuri is helping Farah do her hair, and they have a conversation about they've felt about it and how it's perceived, but Rebecca does play a fairly big role in it for Farah.

Adjusting to an entirely new environment can be so overwhelming that you minimise certain aspects of yourself that might draw extra, unwanted attention to you. Rebecca saw Farah regularly straightening her hair for reasons that aren't just "I like my hair this way" and internally went I've played these games before and broaches the subject with her. I haven't figured out how yet - if it'll be a conversation or a heavy hitting statement, but it happens somehow lol.

[boyjoan]

i had this massive epiphany last night and I'm only just now remembering that it happened .

[airenyah]

Hey so do you know where I could find this acting manifesto of yours?

I usually try and avoid publicly expressing my opinion on things like this but I recently saw some people commenting negatively on his acting again and I’m starting to doubt my own judgement.

I’ve truly never had a huge problem with his acting but I keep seeing people using really harsh words to describe his prior and current work. I genuinely think he’s doing a good job in THK but these comments sometimes make me think I’m missing something.

That conflicts with the fact I know at least three people he worked with on THK specifically had positive things to say about his acting too and I trust people who do this for a living to know what they’re talking about for the most part.

I guess I’m just looking for your post to have a more detailed perspective of the opposite viewpoint to “he’s a terrible actor” to help affirm some of my thinking so I’m more confident in my positive opinion of his acting.

Overall though I’m enjoying everyone in this show but for me I’m specifically enjoying the four mains the most. Kudos to them honestly.

(Disclaimer: Obviously everyone is entitled to their opinion but the harshness of some of the opinions took me off guard a little.)

fuck these people. they don't know shit.

(mind you. this manifesto was written based on his performance in just star in my mind and hidden agenda. his 2024 shows weren't even out at that point. in fact, thk hadn't even been publicly announced yet. you can see from the start there is talent in this boy if you actually know what to look out for)

bonus: i rant some more in the last reblog

[r0semultiverse]

What We Do in the Land of Ooo

🧛‍♂️ What We Do in the Shadows x Adventure Time crossover AU! ⚔

Finn Mertens in place of Guillermo de la Cruz

Marceline Abadeer in place of Nadja of Antipaxos

Bonnibel Bubblegum in place of Laszlo Cravensworth

Jake the dog in place of Colin Robinson

Vampire King in place of Nandor The Relentless

Betty Grof in place of The Guide

The Lich in place of Baron Afanas

Peppermint Butler in place of Wallace the Necromacer

Simon Petrikov in place of Derek

BMO in place of Nadja Doll (her old consciousness uploaded or something was an idea I had)

Marshall Lee & Gary Gumball/Prince in place of Sean & Charmaine

[yngai]

i hope RE4R separate ways starts with ada sipping a mojito on the beach as she's rudely interrupted by an organization liaison who offers her the spain operation & she takes off her sunglasses, frowns & downs the rest of her drink, just as a fun contrast to leon's little edgy monologue about his really bad time under military service

[dailymanners]

Tips and ideas for how to respond when someone is being rude to you

For personal reasons I won't get into, I have a history of just freezing when some is rude / hostile / aggressive / condescending / patronizing / etc. It's obviously not something I'm happy about at all, most people who freeze or fawn aren't happy about it and would change it if they could.

One day I confided in my co-worker, a middle aged woman in her 50's, that this is something I struggle with. Considering how confident and assertive she always struck me as, I was shocked when she told me this is also something she's struggled with.

The advice she gave me is to just memorize and practice a few broad statements or reactions that you can pull out of your pocket so to speak when someone is being rude or disrespectful to you. It's not easy if you're someone who's been conditioned to freeze or fawn, but practice helps. Practice saying these things when you're alone. Put up a sticky note next to your bed or on your bathroom mirror with these phrases and practice them when you see them. Practice saying these with a partner or trusted friend, role-play scenarios where you might need to use these phrases.

Here's a few phrases that have worked for me. The nice thing about them is that they tend to shut down the situation rather than escalating, while still letting the aggressor know that you don't find their behavior acceptable.

"Are you okay?"

This works well in professional settings, because it's not like your work place's residential bully can run to HR about you asking if they're okay (but they might if you try to retaliate and give them a taste of their own medicine). However, it still effectively sends the message "I think there's something wrong with your behavior and don't accept it". It's also not likely the response they're expecting, so it'll likely throw them off and prevent further verbal aggression.

"Could you repeat that for me? I didn't catch what you said."

This one is most effective for people you believe to actually have a conscious and might regret what they said if they actually thought about it a little more. I find that often when I do this one, when people repeat the rude/snippy/patronizing/etc thing they either shamefully stumble over their words and show some remorse, or they change altogether what they say. In the off chance they don't regret what they said and end up repeating exactly what they said, this at least buys you some time to think of a better reaction since you're no longer caught off guard by a sudden rude and snippy remark.

"Can you explain what you mean by that?"

Similar logic to the last one. Often when people are being rude/snippy/patronizing/etc they're caught up in their own emotions in that moment and didn't think it through. This is a polite and civil way of putting their rude behavior in the spotlight and making them reconsider what they said. The other advantage to this one is that in case you did misread their intentions and they meant no harm by what they said or did, this gives them an opportunity to clarify that, instead of you just feeling bad over a statement or actions they actually had no ill intentions with.

If anyone has any further examples of reactions / responses / statements that have worked for them, I'd love to hear about them. I'm new to studying the art of how to civilly yet effectively shut down bad behavior from others, so I'm always open to hearing more suggestions.

[catmask]

tbh when i hear some people talk about 'breaking cycles of abuse', it becomes clear pretty quickly who has come to understand that phrase to mean 'since i was a victim of abuse/neglect by my parents/caretaker/s i will do everything to be nothing like them' and that is all. its not a completely flawed way of thinking either - something that hurt you would very likely hurt someone else; through empathy we learn to understand not to hurt others the way we were hurt too.

but what 'breaking cycles' looks like is more complicated than just not being your parents/caretakers - it's about recognizing how the things that happened to you changed you and how you can heal so you don't hurt someone else in turn. the survival skills you learned in an unhealthy enviroment often translate to poor if not unhealthy interpersonal skills in an enviroment where things ARE safe.

its a difficult pill to swallow for a lot of survivors of abuse (trust me, i know) because we have a tendency to simply want our pain to be recognized. by painting yourself as "absolutely nothing like my abuser" you can abstain from recognizing your own harmful tendencies and live comfortably in the role of victim hood for the rest of your life. it can be tempting to do this especially when so many people will do their best to deny what you experienced - almost like leaning into a stuck door that just won't budge.

the problem with this is if you never recognize that being mistreated made it so you LACK a lot of what other people learned from a loving enviroment, you can hurt people pretty badly even when doing your best just not to replicate what your parents/caretakers got wrong.

this also hurts for victims because, when it comes down to it - it's not FAIR. you were hurt for no reason, and most of us will never hear an apology or even admittance from the person who did it - so why do YOU have to change? why do YOU, the person hurt unjustly, have to put in the work?

and i mean. that's what breaking a cycle is. it means pushing against what's fair and comfortable deliberately so that you can stop something that's been repeating. it's work. its not just recognition of pain, it's the purposeful healing and treatment of it. but thats scary, and it's not fun, so a lot of people fall right back into it. its a lot easier said than done.

[gracieheartspedro]

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld