#thanks for the ask‚ sweet pea!

[callsignbaphomet]

Glance, stillness, formal, texture, favorite, and change! For whoever you want ofc <3

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

☆.｡.:* He has really big and bright gray eyes that are more on the lighter side.

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

☆.｡.:* He has ADD so standing still is kind of a pain in the ass especially as his medication starts wearing off. It's your usuals: shaking his foot without him even noticing he's doing it, hums without him even realizing he's doing it, constantly chewing gum to offset the requirement of standing still. He's been known to lightly scratch his cuticles and picks at his skin. He has little things he can play with while standing still. Before heading off on a job though he makes sure to medicate and have plenty of gum.

formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?

☆.｡.:* Oh, this is fun! His formal looks are all dresses, heels, jewelry everywhere he can put some and some of the most extravagant makeup looks he can come up with. He HATES men's formal clothing with a burning passion but luckily he's an avid cross-dresser and given the fact that he looks androgynous and has curves he passes as a woman and gets a kick out of that while he and Jelani laugh about it. He's worn men's formal clothing before and hated every second of it.

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

☆.｡.:* He's a slut for silk. Give him anything made of silk and he'll hump your leg for 30 minutes. Furs and leather are another favorite of his. He hates ruffles and anything plaid. He avoids anything with rough textures as he prefers soft fibers and fabrics plus Jelani has texture sensitivities.

favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

☆.｡.:* He has this really soft, off the shoulders, oversized, pastel colored long sleeved shirt that's super light and breathable that Jela bought for him when he was out on the job somewhere in Europe. He loves to wear it around spring and just before summer and he wears it/combines it with lots of articles. He has a little circlet and set that Jela got for him from one of the times they went to one of the exo realms. Every time they passed by the shop he stopped to look at it through the window and he would've gotten it himself but he wasn't sure if he should or exactly when he'd wear 'em. He only pulls 'em out during special occasions. It's made from materials only found in that exo realm. Honestly every time Jelani goes out and Angelus stays home or back at base he always brings him something.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

☆.｡.:* You can sorta say he constantly does. Like I said he's an avid cross-dresser and he goes hard. Half his closet and drawers are full of women's clothes (yeah, including underwear). He likes changing things up with different styles (pastels, goth or whatever he feels like). Then he'll switch it up and dress completely masc and instead of short skirts and oversized sweaters he's decked out in techwear or anything "tactical" (civilian kind of tactical, he's not running around in full uniform off the clock lol).

[omppupiiras]

(obv take ur time since you have a lot of requests already!)

Peas and corn Kä getting comforted after a bad day? :"3 🌽💞

awwww poor baby :((( 💔

[c-rowlesdraws]

im love sweet pea so much

thank you! 💛

[drugsforaddicts]

🌽 + 🍕 = ????

oh my goodness, we are twinning!!!

[buckgettingstruck]

A pallette cleanser for the doomposting in your inbox

So we know (most) the 118 believes in jinxes and curses and that work gets crazy on the full moon . . . how insufferable are they on a Friday the 13th shift?

oh they are so annoying about it esp buck. again eddie is a skeptic and everyone else argues with him over it

[pianokantzart]

oooh, they’re coming along nice! best of luck. what are you growing?

Thank you! Nothing crazy, just painted daisies and black eyed susans since they're easy enough to grow (when there's no sabotage of course.)

[nikosasaki]

soundtrack game + BENNY & SWEET PEA!!!!

THE PAIRING EVER

opening credits: chicago - sufjan stevens meeting for the first time: strange magic - electric light orchestra hey, i kinda like you: 8teen - khalid i’m going to kiss you now: talk too much - coin falling in love: it's only right - wallows your place or mine: bad idea! - girl in red naked in bed: heatwaves - glass animals first fight: liability - lorde maybe we should take a break: drivers license - olivia rodrigo i want you back: 505 - arctic monkeys AND shrike - hozier will you marry me: sweet creature - harry styles we’re getting older: pretty shining people - george ezra if you die i’ll go with you: paper rings - taylor swift end credits: futile devices - sufjan stevens

[elderberries-and-honey]

💔, 🥩, 🍓 for lawrence and winifred please <33

💔 (broken heart) - Who has your character hurt most? Physically or emotionally? How did it feel? Do they regret it?

Winifred - This may be a shock, but I feel as though this would be her father. He obviously wasn't around for her, and she never met him, and while I despise the term "daddy issues", I do think she suffers from some those stereotypical behaviors (difficulty trusting men, low self-esteem, people pleasing). Of course, through therapy today, we are able to identify that some a father abandoning their child can lead to psychological issues later on in life, but I'm not certain if Winifred would even know that's where some of her issues stem from. So, as for how it felt, it's probably deeply troubling & confusing, especially when she was just a girl. Lawrence - Jeeeeeez, again, probably his father! I have explained it in asks & sort-of alluded to it lightly, but Lawrence's father would have been considered abusive in today's society. Which is why it took him so long to realise he had only taken on caring for the farm to make his father proud, even if it was from beyond the grave!

🥩 (steak) - Does your oc have any coping mechanisms? Healthy or unhealthy?

Winifred - Ooooo she definitely isolates as a means to cope with her problems! I assume she learned this from spending long hours at the workhouse alone and struggling to engage socially both as a girl, and even now as adult. Lawrence - Although it pains me to say it he's a workaholic. Even now being a position where he doesn't necessarily have to work, but still chooses to. In some ways, having a good work ethic can be a good thing, but I also think a lot of people use it as a form of distraction without realising it. Also, probably note the last question as well tbh.

🍓 (strawberry) - Does your oc believe in anything? Are they superstitious? Religious? Atheistic? Has anything in their past made them this way?

Winifred - In this post, I sort-of alluded to Winifred's beliefs a little, which is the Pagan's holiday for the Autumn equinox, however, I wouldn't label her a pagan. I do think she would be very superstitious though, mostly because there a lot of pretty silly superstitions that came from the Victorian era that I feel she might adhere to. Lawrence - Again, I've never explicitly stated Lawrence's religion but I do actually believe him to have been raised Catholic. He was raised in Wales, which is mostly Anglican, however, his Mother's two best friends (Beth & Valerie) are canonically Catholic in the story, and by extension, I just decided Lawrence's parents were too. As for if he's superstitious, this is a complete yes. There are a lot of old superstitions about death & mourning that I hope to include moving forward.

🧣(scarf) - What comforts your oc? Is it an item? An action? A person? Whatever it is, how any why does it comfort them?

Ugh, my chance to gush about my favorite couple ever! Unsuprising, his comfort person is obviously Winifred. When I was more Gameplay focused, his aspiration was to find 'the one', which I took to mean, find someone he loved and begin to build a legacy (a family, a career, etc). For Lawrence, Winifred is just perfect, and he probably idolizes her to an unhealthy degree. But she is totally his person, and making her happy and comfortable is what matters most to him.

Send Me RED Emoji Asks! <3

[hammity-hammer]

for the ask game!! capital P stobin please and thank you

oh my sweet dear em,,,,, i wanted to get a happy song and yet,,,,

No Surprises - Radiohead

</333 this song fucks me UP and --- yeah here's my idea sorry it got angsty <3

i think this would be a post vecna au- where they won but they lost so fucking many that it's hard to keep going. eddie stays dead, they lose max, all of the kids that got taken before still stay dead-- and steve and robin have to try and mend themselves and exist like normal people. they go back to working normal jobs, but it's a robin pov-- and she just sees how it kills steve to live without one of their kids; without eddie, whom he barely knew, and how they have to pretend that they didn't have to sit around thinking max would get better but she didn't and they couldn't save eddie, nothing they did could have ended any differently and it's hard. it's hard to watch the love of her life waste away at another dead-end job with her when they've saved the world four fucking times but couldn't save themselves.

she stays mad at the fact that the government agents took so fucking long, knowing that there were kids putting their lives on the line. they were all just kids.

they move in together-- they saved enough and with government hush money they could pay off a house and just,,, live. bare minimum-- barely sleeping, but always in the same bed because they can't sleep apart anymore, and one day robin just snaps.

she wants to feel like anything they did even meant something and steve just--he just stares. he can't come up with a good answer because was it really worth it? they lost two of their own just to get everything covered up again and have everyone act like nothing happened--

but that's not surprising to either of them anymore.

send me an ask <3

[callsignbaphomet]

Hello!! <3333

I'm curious about Oracle (I'm writing a character for it :p)

When did it form and why?

Oh lol I just rebloged a post sort of containing that info. Also omfg! <3

The exact year is kind of forgotten to time but it was formed during the Akkadian empire. Why? It was one of those events that wasn't actually planned.

Aleksey (Angelus's grandad and Jelani's father-in-law and mentor) who back then was known as Xisuthros-Sin-Razi and two of his dearest friends (a vampire and a human) had joined up and made a living as sell swords and they were good! Whatever the task was they were almost always successful, discrete and fast.

They were hired by many people but most notably people in higher circles and with time they were the most sought after sell swords. After the fall of the Akkadian empire they kept going until eventually only Aleksey was left. For some time he just kept to himself and just vibed. He was sort of near a village of vampires when they were being attacked by humans, this village was really small and mostly made up of artisans and merchants, he went over to help and for a long time he was the sole guardian and taught some of them to defend themselves. The itch to get back to civilization hit 'im again so he went off though a vampire joined him and in their travels they would often prevent humans from blindly killing non-humans and non-humans from blindly killing humans. With time more and more people would join him and even humans joined.

In the dumbest way possible they kind of acted as "referees" to the relationship between humans and non-humans. They all believed both parties could get along without the need to annihilate one or each other. Like I said before, 1 became 3, 3 became 6, 6 became 9, 9 became 12 and so on until it formed into the powerhouse that it is today with thousands of agents all over the world. Oracle deals with anything and everything paranormal and inter-dimensional and helping out everywhere whenever possible.

I hope that made sense.

[storkmuffin]

2 & 6 for the ask game. Can't wait until you can watch the last season!

2. Least favorite character

It's a tie between Hiram and Mary, actually. Hiram being an unpredictably vicious man who competes with his daughter and keeps his whole family in terror of him as long as he can is too familiar for me to find any joy it, and Mary just sucks. FailLesbian rep I guess, but she makes Archie PAY HER for their bombed out house. (Intrafamily real estate deals are a major source of conflict in my country.)

6. Favorite Musical Episode

Heathers, because Sweet Pea got the lead part even though they never show him singing a single solo, and because he almost had a threesome with Toni and Peaches'n'Cream. (I have a major thing for Sweet Pea, along with literally like, six other people in all of Riverdale fandom GLOBALLY.) Bughead also have gasoline-stinky sooty car sex because setting Jughead's childhood home on fire made them horny - what is not to love?

Favorite musical performance though is Julian singing as Archie in Archie the Musical because Julian has a beautiful voice and wonderful presence when he sings.

[babsvibes]

A Harley/Millie song, please!

One of my other favorite rarepairs that has eeeehhh no following lol … yet

HarMil: The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience “let’s get into cult stuff because we’re a little bored with life” seems like the manic kind of decisions these two would make. Stealing bounce houses and locking children in a fort both seem like slippery slopes to me lmao

[ebdanon]

5 artists you suggest and a song by each artist you like the most?

hiiii i hope ur having a good day wya 🫶 gonna try and vary this a bit because i feel like im predictable as hell 😭 the artists are probably nothing new but hopefully they’re songs i havent mentioned

1. i listened to all of chappell’s discography!!!! fav song is after midnight :)

2. really bumping to the driver era and their song preacher man 🤸‍♂️

3. COIN is one of my fav bands and i really love their song cemetery 😌 very excited for the new album

4. ive been listening to billie eilish’s new album and i really like the song birds of a feather!! also really enjoy wildflower tbh

5. waterparks and their song self sabotage :) very excited for their new album too

[kedsandtubesocks]

Get attacked!! ✨🌈SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING🌈✨ 💗💗💗💗💗💗

Anna wow HI!! 🥹💕✨ oh goodness thank you so much for sending this my way I really appreciate it!

You’re the wonderful gem here!! 💝💘✨

[gutsby]

My Body, His Choice

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.

Warnings: 18+. Come get y’all juice (consensual freeuse). Unprotected p-in-v. Praise kink. Daddy kink. She/her pussy pronouns. Perverted but ever-respectful Joel.

Note: ‘Púdrete’ means ‘rot’ or ‘fuck you’ in Spanish.

Word count: 2.9k

It wasn’t often he’d fuck you anywhere but his bed.

At fifty-two, Joel was still old fashioned like that.

No matter how hard you tugged on the front of his shirt, begged him gently, baby, please take me right here on the kitchen table—on your desk—in your truck—really anyplace, Joel would shake his head and tote you away to his room. Then he’d blow your back out on a plush and cushy king-sized bed exactly how a gentleman should.

“Wasn’t raised to treat a lady any different,” he’d always say, sucking a breath through his teeth as he plunged his cock inside you from the comfort and quiet of his sheets.

‘Whatever you say, old man’ was your habitual response.

It was one that more often than not ended with you walking funny for the next couple days, thanks to that twenty-something stamina Joel was still able to boast.

So, with sore legs and a warm load leaking out of your cunt every night, you shut up. You didn’t mind being confined to his bed if it meant getting fucked like that. But you would let him know, every now and again or as often as you happened to be ovulating, that there was a freestanding offer for him to just…take, if he ever felt so inclined. The first time you’d said the real word for it, Joel had just smiled and kissed you on the top of your head.

“I’ll sure keep that in mind, sweet pea,” he’d chuckled.

Or, in boomer-speak: ‘No way in hell am I doing that.’

You’d made your peace with it. You’d quit wearing open-gusset undies in the hopes of getting bent over the sink while doing the dishes on a random Tuesday afternoon. You’d put all thoughts of freeuse out of your head and now just waited patiently under the covers at night if you wanted some action on the go. That was more than okay.

And when Joel thundered through the door an hour late one night, you just offered up a smile and a sleepy wave.

“Hi, handsome.”

You were splayed out comfortably on the sofa, and your favorite show was playing in a dim, muted glow on TV. Joel toed off his boots and ducked his head in the closet.

“I said he-llo, you big hunk.”

You regularly alternated between handsome, hunk, and some form of baby or beefcake if he appeared extra large that day. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his form coming in, but you figured you’d give it a stab, shoveling more popcorn in your mouth before returning to Narcos.

Somewhat garbled: “Well hello to you too, babycakes.”

It was either going to piss him off or earn you a big, wet kiss on the cheek—or both, if you were lucky. The words had scarcely hung in the air for more than a second or two, and your popcorn was going down in one slow, crowded gulp, when something fell heavy at your feet.

Your legs were stretched as far as they would go to the end of the couch, and Joel had just dropped his weight right next to them. Then he was leaning back, gingerly.

Carefully.

Joel groaned.

“God, he looks stupid,” he said, staring straight ahead.

You coughed. You winced at a sharp, lone kernel that had snagged your throat going down, and when it passed, you sat up and glanced over to where Joel was looking.

All you saw was a sexy, if not slightly anachronistically-mustached man with tight pants and a slutty stance onscreen.

“Javier Peña?” you asked him.

The man’s nostrils flared in response.

“With that stupid fuckin’ Members Only jacket— dumbass aviators, too, he looks like the biggest dou—”

“Joel!”

You blinked at your boyfriend in disbelief. He knew better than to abuse your favorite DEA agent right to your face. At last, Joel met your gaze, and his cheeks tinged pink.

“What? You wanna fuck him or something?” he snapped.

You turned back to the TV and pretended to consider.

“Hmmm…I don’t know, would Agent Peña come home an hour late with no explanation and then start griping about another man’s clothes when I try talking to him?”

“Yeah. And he’d probably backtalk you, too. In Spanish.”

“Púdrete.”

Joel scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?”

You raised both brows as if to say, ‘Yeah, dude, fuck you.’

Maybe there was a smile behind your eyes as you said it.

You didn’t mean to give in, or let him off so easy, but there was just no grappling with a man in blue jeans and a sweaty, dirt-sodden shirt giving you a look like that.

His eyes smiled back.

You didn’t protest when Joel muscled his way over across the couch and pushed you back on your side. Yanking your hips to lay flush with his front, taking up most of all usable real estate on the sofa just to lie behind you and curl his bicep around your belly. He nosed against you and inhaled deeply. He hummed.

You spooned and watched Narcos in silence.

“Bad day?” you murmured at length.

“Bad don’t even begin to cover it.”

Joel let out a breath, and you felt it migrate through your skull. The whole weight of the world, or, more likely than not, some dipshits at work who’d cost their team a bid or delayed a project by a week, ten, or twenty, was hanging somewhere close over his shoulders and depressing his whole demeanor. His grip on you tightened even more.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

“Me too.”

Joel’s fingers seared a string of small crescents in your skin through the fabric of your nightie. Realizing he was pressing in too much, he eased back. Flexed his hand.

“Ain’t no need to be—it’s on me.”

You felt a kiss land on your shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered as a scene of chaos broke out onscreen with some ill-fated raid or other, and Joel’s hand traveled up your side. It cupped one of your breasts through the sky-blue satin material, and just as fingers began to knead—

“I don’t actually wanna fuck Javi,” you sputtered, dumb.

Joel kissed the space between your shoulder and neck.

“I figured.”

Then his index and thumb found your hardening bud and pinched it between them, rolling the skin in soft, languid strokes. That, paired with the movement of lips up the length of your neck, had your head lolling back gently and your eyes struggling to focus on any of the mayhem unfolding in time. You wanted to turn away from it all—meet Joel’s mouth with a feverish kiss of your own—but when your torso jerked the slightest bit, trying to move, the arm around your front kept you pinned to the spot. Joel’s grey, stubbled chin tickled the shell of your ear.

“Keep watching, darlin’,” he mumbled.

A low whine sounded in your throat, a noise Joel was no stranger to. It bubbled up, almost reflexively, and then was swallowed back as by force when his left hand shifted from toying with your nipple to joining the hem of your dress. Your breath hitched when you felt the pads of three fingers make an easy, careless sort of petting motion between your legs. Stroking you gently there.

“‘M’sorry I was late comin’ home,” Joel continued in the same attritional vein, gliding his middle finger between where he felt the seam of your folds through your dress, “Makin’ you wait up, wasn’t too kind of me, huh, baby?”

“D-Don’t mind,” you shuddered, just as the tip of his pointer finger found your clit and made a circle around it with the other two—a torturous loop that lacked just enough pressure to make it feel really good, and teased.

You would’ve liked to press on, were it not for him, again:

“Aw, hell, honey.”

Your eyes snapped open, and fear seized you momentarily. Had something gone wrong?

Instead, when you glanced between your legs, you saw a stain—a crude Rorschach-looking splotch in its place. With all rational thought currently suspended and your brain in a primal fog of just wanting to fuck, you groaned.

“Joel, please.”

You know what to do. You know what you’re doing.

Joel continued to carry on as though he hadn’t heard you. He rubbed the wet spot even harder with his middle finger and let out the faintest trace of condescension with his breath, fanning warmly across your cheek. It was as though you could feel his big, stupid mouth forming a grin behind your head that made you purse your lips together and force back a whimper when he pressed.

“Left a real mess missin’ me here,” he chided, voice low, “Poor thing hasn’t been fucked in…what, twelve hours?”

You imagined the spot growing larger, gaining warmth and wetness and slick from the timbre of Joel’s voice alone. Nevermind the fact he was practically smearing it all through your panties, through your dress; you’d be soaking his hand in a puddle if he didn’t let up soon.

“Then fuck it again,” you gritted, hips stirring.

“But you’re so busy watchin’ your new man, I—”

At the last, you bucked pathetically against Joel’s hand.

“Don’t want him, Joel,” you moaned, “I need you.”

With what little strength you had left, you tried to turn your body to face the man behind you. He didn’t let you.

In fact, his hold constricted all the more unforgiving, and his right arm curled around your front from underneath you while his left hand took the plunge beneath your dress, finally. It was as torturous as it was fused with any pleasure, though, as his fingers made a pass through your panties, between your folds, and into your heat with little warning at all. Just a kiss to your cheek and then two thick fingers working inside your cunt all at once. You writhed at the stretch, and Joel nosed you again.

“I said you’re busy, baby,” he shushed, “Keep watchin’.”

Keep watching.

Like that wasn’t the most nonsensical instruction he’d ever given you, with his arm twisted over your front and his face in your hair and his fingers pumping in and out.

In and out.

“Don’t care about the fuckin’ show, Joel,” you keened.

He brushed the heel of his palm against your clit, and you could’ve cried from the sheer influx of pleasure.

“Sure you do, sweet pea, you’ve just been so—”

Joel pressed another kiss to your cheek and kept going.

“—busy, lately, it’s only fair I get to have my way, hm?”

Oh.

Oh.

You hadn’t heard his belt come undone. You were so focused on your own pleasure, and getting it fast, that you hadn’t stopped to consider for a moment whether Joel might be testing his ‘free pass’ after all this time.

And, as if to dispel any doubts, Joel kissed your shoulder.

“C’mon, baby, let me use this pussy how I need to.”

He couldn’t have made your body any more pliant and willing than if your limbs had been made of wax.

It was all happening like a dream, almost too good to be a real, flesh and bones man with his hand in your panties, your man, pulling the fabric aside and making you lie on your side while he tapped the head of himself right there.

The hand that had once been toying with your clit was now lifting your knee, parting your legs to make space for him behind you, just outside of you—sliding his dick back and forth at first while he left trails of kisses down your skin. You could cum from the friction of that alone, the little squelches of his skin on yours and the fact that you weren’t in a bed, for once, and he was doing it now. He was making use of your body and cherishing it whole.

In spite of that gaping chasm between you in strength and size, he was obeisant, in a way. Painstakingly slow.

“This okay, baby? Can daddy fuck you right here?”

Joel pressed the head of his cock right against the weeping ring of muscles, felt it pulse against him, and groaned. He let just the cusp of your folds suck him in, forming the slightest, shallowest ‘o,’ only for him to retreat, moving his dick back up and down your slit.

You’d already cried and told him, yes, yes, you can fuck me there, daddy, please—but Joel was too busy tilting your head back up to the screen. Making you open your eyes and watch the show, loath as you were to focus on anything else but the soft, steady brush of his member.

“Remember, hon, you gotta stay focused,” he said, too sweet, “Chin up and keep those legs spread for daddy.”

They were. You were. Your head was up, just barely, and your eyes were nearly brimming with tears from just how badly you needed him inside you. You whined when he kissed the side of your mouth, but loved it all the same because it made you feel safe where you were. At ease.

Joel held you open for him, the shelf of his belly nudging at the small of your back and only pressing harder as he sank in deeper. It was a sensation that felt almost foreign, the first inches he’d breached, as he filled you from a new angle and held you close, you whimpered.

“Fuck, that pussy stretches out so nice for me,” Joel let out in a groan, “Feels like she’s made just for me, huh?”

At that, you felt a hand pinch both of your cheeks, forcing your mouth in a little pout as you nodded fiercely.

“Y-Yes, daddy, she’s made for you, all for you.”

One inch retreating, three more pushing in. Joel’s breath was hot on your ear again, and you could feel the soft grey tufts of hair on his tummy fold into themselves against your back as he pushed even deeper. His cock parted the insides of your walls and fucked you open like it was nothing at all. Your eyes stayed fastened on the television screen, but, frankly there wasn’t a thing on the LED display that was registering more than a passing thought. You felt the hand on your face squeeze even tighter, then release. Then your head was tilting sideways of its own volition, and your body was not—being moved by Joel’s gentle thrusts now—and your lips somehow met his in a kiss. One of his moans bled into your mouth.

“Look so. damn. pretty. when you’re like this,” he panted, “Never look better than when you’re fucked out on this cock, don’t ya, sweet pea? Nod your head and tell me.”

You nodded. You told him. Or whimpered it, anyway.

It was exactly the same and somehow nothing like you’d felt with him before: a new place, a new position, but then just the way you were letting him have you was a territory left entirely uncharted for you both. He could take, and take, and take, keep fucking you until his old joints gave out, and you were a vessel for that pleasure. Your body was limp; Joel’s frame was imposing and always holding you up, milking from your cunt what he needed and always praising you for how good it felt.

“My pretty girl,” he murmured, words like syrup. Then, each new one punctuated with a thrust as he sped up, “Gonna let daddy cum inside this tight little pussy?”

And, to his shock and yours, the hole he’d been using all this time grew wetter, more slick, then was pulsing with arousal as an influx of pleasure washed over your body—your brain had barely registered his words before the rest of you was making an even bigger mess of it, welcoming Joel deeper each time as your cunt spasmed over again.

Pressed into the sofa with your hips tilted down, now, you didn’t need to supply a verbal answer, just pulling Joel closer and pleading in broken moans to paint you white inside. He, like you, probably couldn’t have kept it from coming out if he tried. His hands were gripping your body, pushing you down with the weight of his grasp and his thrusts and feeling too fucked out to even know how much of himself he was pouring inside you as he came.

But it filled you to the hilt, all the way down his length.

In fact, there was a moment Joel feared he might’ve stuffed you more full of cum than you could take. You’d just barely come down, still moaning and shaking and dripping with more nectar than you’d ever felt before.

Joel tried to wipe the pussydrunk look from his eyes—terrible and greedy and wanting to see what he’d left—and he was just about to pull out to make sure you were alright, when he felt something grip him. On him and around him, pinching his wrist and squeezing his length inside you, you couldn’t help but turn back to face him.

Your eyes were smiling again.

One hand had just started to inch up his arm, kneading the flesh like you needed something from him then too. Only now your gaze was drifting down to the place where your body and his were still joined, and from that look, Joel sensed there had to be a lot of him there—which is why he was shocked when next you said sweetly, softly,

“Can I have a little more, daddy?”

[hislittleraincloud]

*inner Cairo whispers* I like that jacket.

They look both absolutely stunning!!!