#the fourth closet spoilers

[raccoon-in-a-dumpster]

so guys. when i was younger. i had The Silver Eyes and The Twisted Ones. but not The Fourth Closet. so i had a VERY different interpretation of th ending.

i thought that "Not Charlie" really wasn't Charlie. and that everyone THOUGHT she was out of grief, only for john to realize that "oh... that's just some lady..."

anyway yeah

[corpseybun-old]

Ignore all of that, actually, because shit wait here's how Baby herself describes it in the novels. Granted, this is in reference to like her being part Charlie-bot iirc, but bro, I do not care, it's perfect, and I personally apply it to the games bc I think it fits with the personality she has in SL.

No, I don't know why tf she is like that in FFPS, like even ignoring if she is or isn't Elizabeth the change in her personality is so damn drastic and yes, it bothers me every damn day, but still.

elizabeth being circus baby is one of the most concrete pieces of information we have. what could you possibly mean by then. also you ship willmike anyway so why do you care if mike/ennard is incest

It's okay, Anon, you're all good. :]

Circus Baby refers to Elizabeth as a different person throughout Sister Location.

Vent under the cut.

Sorry for such an underwhelming response, I was going to write up some massive thing and have been compiling evidence for that over the past 4-ish hours, but then I realized something: I can't bring myself to care about this enough to spend so much time on it. I hate saying that because this type of thing is usually my lifeblood, I love writing. I want to be able to give you something good, but I can't.

I'd love to say it's burnout, but it's not. I can't really find motivation to do much of anything lately, depression is a bitch. My usual ways to cope with things aren't working. Crazy to imagine I do anything but write fnaf incest I know, but I've been trying out more, I guess, 'healthier' ways to cope with my shit and those aren't working either.

I feel like complete shit. It's not like my analysis will be seen by many people, and it'll just make me sad for all that work to be for nothing. No shade towards you, Anon, I completely get not wanting your name on the fnaf incest blog, but not even knowing who exactly I'm answering on top of everything else is just kinda demotivating. Again, man, it's not you at all, I don't want this coming across as some 'I hate all my Anon askers' type thing because I don't. I appreciate the ask. Thank you for sending something my way. Hope your day goes well, Anon. Sorry again for the lack of an answer.

[tawneybee]

Y'aaalllllllll

What if my "Vanessa Afton is a role-reversed Charlotte Emily" movie theory carries over to the games. What if they're parallels in sb.

Someone DID mention the possibility of both Vanessa's paralleling Charlie-bot (both Baby and actual Charlie) in the Trilogy. And the fnaf movie's plot is very similar to 'The Silver Eyes'.

[dreamii-krybaby]

I sometimes have a hard time understanding why some people hate John so much, I mean i can get why but-

Have you guys...read the twisted ones???

My man was fucking unhinged

And was throwing hands in The Silver Eyes

like lemme remind you from what he has done:

-Actually knocked out Willy Wonka (William afton) as Dave Miller in TSE and may have or may have not given him a concussion

-Threw hands at the animatronics in TSE, you know, 7ft tall killer robots made of metal that where very heavy

-Am pretty sure he tried to push freddy or smth and in the graphic novel mf kicks him like a mortal combat character (Tho personally I don't take the Graphic novels too seriously tbh)

-stepped on foxy's neck multiple times while Foxy was on the floor while he was trying to save Charlie

-Found a dead coyote in a freezer inside a gas station and grabbed it by the neck and threw it out the streets

-Went to Clay's basement where Clay kept the OG animatronics and tried to contact their spirits to find Charlie and it works

-Committed arson alongside Clay in an underground pizzería full of animatronics

also, he was the first person to call BS on "Charlie" (Circus Baby aka Fake Charlie) at the end of TTO and throughout TFC, and no one believed him until way later

He may not be the most well developed character and is mostly a romantic interest, and like...they kinda tried to give him interesting characteristic but wasn't enough but like- he is so unhinged and actually insane and I love him for that.

Also I would marry any man would would accept to go and investigate creepy haunted locations involving ghosts, murder, personal trauma and daddy/mommy issues and look after me

Honestly everyone in The Twisted Ones were so fucking unhinged, its one of the few good things that book had

[shinewonder]

novels

[orionsbite]

SPOILERS

If I had to guess why some people don't like the movie, it's because it is obviously based off of the Silver eyes. The people who've only stuck around for the games probably wouldn't understand why things are the way they are. The movie has the same problem as the silver eyes trilogy, some people like it, some people just don't. I personally absolutely love the trilogy books and really enjoyed reading them. They are probably my favourite books ever written. I think it just comes down to opinion.

Also the whole Mike chasing and trying to find Garret ( is that how you spell it?? ) is definitely reflecting how Charlie throughout the novels tries to find Sammy. She can ' feel ' his presence and feels like he is locked away and needs to find him. The FNaF movie parallels ALOT from the Silver eyes, it just changes and adapts the events and characters. The whole Mike's brother was abducted by William Afton is clearly taken from Charlie. ' I killed your brother, now I will kill you. ' You can tell the whole movie is very heavily based on the FNaF novels if you've read them. For those unaware, in the novels Charlie has a brother ( Sammy ) who was taken by Afton ( I think at 3 years old? ). This is used in the movie for Mike, but changed instead where Mike tries to find who took Garret and he tries to change the past. Charlie spends her time in the novels trying to physically find Sammy, feeling like his spirit is locked away somewhere but she can still feel him.

( take everything I say with a grain of salt, and forgive me if I have spelt Garrot's name wrong. )

[twinktor-frankenstein]

You mean to tell me Charlie never had her photo taken? Ever? In her life?

[dirtsoilmulch]

i love the fnaf book trilogy more dearly than anyone but i just WISH we couldve seen john mourn

charlie, a girl he's loved for years and years, "dying" in front of him. watching her scream and just disappear. finding her again after MONTHS of dealing with her doppelganger only to find out that she isnt real. he never knew her when she was alive. all john knew was the experimental animatronic built from her father's greiving. charlie, the *real* charlie, couldve been anyone. she mightve grown to be someone john despised, or maybe she wouldve been exactly the same. but a human being instead of a machine.

he'll never know. but its a thing that keeps him awake at night, wondering who he couldve loved if only her brother had died. if only freddys had never existed in the first place. but he thinks: would i ever had met her if freddys wasnt opened? he just thinks and thinks and thinks about the endless amount of possibilities, the "what if"s and the alternate timelines until he loses his mind

i like to imagine he searches for sam and mrs emily. for some kind of weird closure, he'd find their home but keep his distance. maybe talking once or twice in a public setting, nothing but small talk. a mother who'd recovered from her ex husband's insanity and a boy, the same age as him, who never really knew he had a sister.

john would meet them once, talk just *once* and he'd return home. he'd gathered everything that was left of charlie- his charlie. her body, her blood, the doll sitting inside her.

all of her abandoned projects, all of the photos, the clothes.

he'd seen her die twice. he was traumatized, afraid of every shadow that moved near her lifeless body he'd been keeping in a guest room.

he lost himself. he'd sort through her items, too afraid of losing even the smallest piece of her. he wept while looking at pictures of her as a toddler, wondering if the pictures were of her or the charlie he knew.

john was driving himself crazy.

[ashleybenlove]

"You have the mind of a scribe and the heart of a rider. You would be mine."

ANDARNA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also, of course I'm thinking of Hiccup being told "You have the heart of a chief and a soul of dragon."

[cavity-collector]

I FINISHED THE FNAF NOVELS WHY TF DID EVERYONE SAY THEY SUCK THEY ARE SO GOOD IM GONNA CRY WHAT THE FUCKKKKK AAAAAAAA ?????????????? SO MUCH ART INCOMING!!! AAA!!!!!!!!! ?????????? HELP

[nightmaretherabbit]

Now that I can stop panicking. Can I talk about the FNAF movie and the trilogy parallels-?

[scattered-dreamers]

Okay, but HOW????

How are they going to do the third movie??

Abby just suddenly waltzes back into Mike’s life like she hasn’t died?? Like… she was killed by an animatronic right in front of him [if that’s how Scott has it in the movie].

Like… I haven’t finished the third book. I’m only 50 pages in. But my prior post, saying the Charlie John knew, the Charlie he saw killed, was an animatronic the whole time.

The little girl who saw her father die, the one who visited for Micheal’s memorial… Animatronics. The reason Aunt Jen took Charlie is so somebody could do maintenance and upkeep on her.

This is really going to Detroit Become Human levels of what the fuckery. Because Alice was an animatronic and she would have been the same age and build of young Charlie.

And it’s not hard to plant memories in an animatronic or AI. IF that is what’s going on. Because there is no way anybody could have survived what John saw.

[shelfperson]

look okay this is the SECOND TIME a plotline in fnaf would be made more interesting with transgenderism.

book!charlie 🤝 movie!vanessa: secretly their own sibling raised as a girl TO ME

[nhlclover]

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐒

— cozytober masterlist !

summary: you finally convince matthew to face his fears by watching a horror movie.

warnings: definite spoilers of The Conjuring, couple swear words,

word count: 1.11k

notes: fourth installment of cozytober! hope you guys enjoy this one

You shift on the couch, settling next to Matthew with the remote in hand, your excitement barely contained. You clicked through the titles before finding The Conjuring and selecting it.

You glance over at Matthew, who’s leaning back, arms crossed over his chest as he does his best impression of calm confidence. “You sure about this?” you tease, raising an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

“Yes I’m sure. It can’t be that bad,” Matthew replied, voice dripping with forced confidence. “It’s just a movie, it’s fake. How scary can it be?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a laugh. He’s putting on that brave face, but you can see the way his foot taps against the carpet, the slight tension in his posture that gives him away. It’s adorable, really. He’s never been good with horror movies, and you know tonight is going to be no different.

The one thing that you and Matthew seemed to be at odds about was movies. You liked sci-fi and action movies, while Matthew preferred comedy and even the occasional romance. However, your biggest dissimilarity was when it came to horror movies. You loved every gorey flick, every jump scare that had your heart pounding in your chest. Matthew, however, couldn’t stand the genre. He’d never admit that it’s because the category scared him, instead claiming they’re too predictable or cheesy, but he couldn’t seem to get through any horror flick without pausing multiple times and being plagued with nightmares about the movies content. When he watched Childs Play with his brother a few years back, it took a nearly a full month for Matthew to stop seeing Chucky in his dreams.

You raised an eyebrow, doubting his bravado. “Uh-huh, just remember you said that.” You couldn’t help but smirk as you pressed play, the ominous opening music filling the room. Matthew shuffled a little, and you noticed the subtle tension in his shoulders. He might’ve been putting on a tough act, but the atmosphere was already getting to him.

The movie begins, creeping in with its unsettling buildup, and you sneak a glance at Matthew. The tension in his jaw betrays him as the camera pans across the creepy Annabelle doll. His fingers tap against his thigh, faster now, and his eyes are wide, a little too focused on the screen, as if by sheer willpower he can keep the fear at bay.

“You okay there, Matty?” you asked, nudging him lightly.

“I’m fine.” he said a little too quickly. His eyes stayed glued to the screen, but you caught the way he flinched when the first jump scare hit — a door slamming shut. You snickered softly, Matthew throwing you a sideways look. “It was loud, I wasn’t expecting it.” he said.

His tough guy act only lasted so long, the movie beginning to tear down his defenses. Every tense moment accentuated by creepy music, caused Matthew to shift closer to you, whether he realized or not. When the demon finally showed itself, jumping off the closet, Matthew grabbed onto your arm. You glance down at it, his fingers gripping you a little tighter than necessary, but you decide not to say anything. His pride’s already hanging by a thread.

The atmosphere in the room is thick now, and when the climax of the movie hits—the mother’s possession scene — Matthew’s resolve crumbles. His breath hitches, his body tense, and when you turn to check on him, you catch him squeezing his eyes shut, the blanket pulled up so high it’s practically a shield.

“Matty,” you whisper, nudging him lightly, “you’ve gotta watch the rest. You’re missing the best part.”

“I’m watching,” he mutters, voice muffled behind the fabric. “Just… taking a break.”

“C’mon, you gotta see the ending. It’s the scariest part,” you coax with a grin, watching as he cracks one eye open, then immediately shuts it again. A small giggle escapes you, but you let him be. The poor guy’s already hanging on by a thread.

Without even realizing it, Matthew ends up practically wrapped around you by the time the movie reaches its terrifying conclusion. His arms are tight around your waist, like you’re some kind of human shield, and his cheek rests lightly against your shoulder. It’s kind of sweet, really, and you’re definitely not complaining about the sudden closeness.

Finally, the credits rolled, and Matthew let out a long breath of relief, sinking back into the couch like a man who had just survived a battle. He stayed quiet for a second, as if gathering himself.

You turn to him, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well? Thoughts? Ready for round two? I hear Insidious is next-level scary.”

The look he gives you is pure exasperation, his eyes wide, like you’ve suggested jumping out of a plane without a parachute. “Not a chance in hell. You’re twisted for enjoying these movies.”

You burst into laughter, the sound filling the room as Matthew shakes his head, still looking a little rattled. He mutters something under his breath about you being a “crazy bitch,” but there’s no bite to it, just fond exasperation.

“Okay, okay,” you say between giggles. “I promise, no more horror tonight. But… maybe next time?”

“Next time?” He raises an eyebrow, still eyeing you warily. “There’s not gonna be a next time.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” you say in a low tone. Despite the movie ending a few minutes ago, your conversation turning playful, you could still sense Matthew dripping with tension.

“You okay?” you ask, rubbing his arm softly.

“I’m fine…” Matthew reassures you. “But I will be seeing that creepy ass woman in my dreams tonight.”

You snort, grabbing the remote from the cushion beside you. “How about we leave off on a lighter note?”

Matthew’s eyes soften with relief as you scroll through the options, finally landing on a colorful, cheerful title. “How about Hotel Transylvania? No jump scares, no possessed moms… just some cute cartoon monsters.”

He visibly relaxes at the suggestion, sinking into the couch as a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, giving you a light squeeze. “Now that I can handle.”

You hit play, and as the goofy, fun atmosphere of the movie took over, you nestled back into Matthew’s arms, both of you finally at ease.

You hit play, settling back into Matthew’s arms as the room fills with the playful, goofy sounds of the animated movie. The tension from The Conjuring melts away, leaving behind a cozy warmth as the two of you snuggle up together. Maybe horror wasn’t his thing, but moments like this? You wouldn’t trade them for anything.

[aetherdoesthings]

a new job pt. 2

forethoughts: apologies for my long hiatus; writer's block has been draining me mentally. anyways, i started playing honkai star rail :D. no spoilers for penacony pls i wanna see this through 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

notes: fem!reader, reader working for arlecchino, arlecchino being sweet? idk

Your head throbbed as consciousness came back to you. Unlike the hard mattress you normally slept on and the nonexistent pillows, your head was supported by several, a large puffy blanket covering your body. You were even in different clothes than you remembered yourself to be in; a pair of silk pajamas buttoned up instead of the large worn out oversized shirt. The change of scenery instantly made all fatigue and drowsiness disappear, as you shot up, head spinning around, grasping at the scenery around you. You were inside a well furnished room, the windows on the side of the bed open, the Fontainian breeze entering your room. All your stuff from your flat above the shop was on the nearby desk. Your heart pounded heavily inside your chest, as you planted the balls of your feet on the soft surface underneath you, allowing yourself to explore your surroundings to a better degree. Somewhere far, you could hear the sound of children, their cheerful laughter reaching up to the room you were in. 

The doorknob twisted, stealing your attention as every nerve in your body went on high alert, your muscles tightening. The door opened, revealing a familiar figure, the sound of her heels muffled by the carpet as the woman walked towards you, those crimson eyes boring into your skull. 

“Ah. Y/N. You’re awake. Perfect.” The Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers stated with a monotone voice, her hand moving towards your face. A rush of heat shot to your cheeks as the Knave ran her darkened thumb over your lips, feeling the cracks and grooves of your chapped lips. You swore you saw her own thin lips purse ever so slightly at the touch, displeased by your physical condition. 

“W-Where am I?” You forced yourself to sputter out, in hopes of destroying the suffocating atmosphere around the two of you.

“Inside the House of Hearth. Since our last meeting, I took it upon myself to ensure you were properly settled into your job. All your belongings are on the desk.” Arlecchino said ever so matter-of-factly, as if she wasn’t fazed at all by the idea of breaking into your place while you were sleeping to move you into new territories without ever asking you if that was okay.

“If… that's alright with you. I understand for a normal human a sudden change like this is… daunting. However, this is to ensure the discreteness of the House’s location.” Arlecchino added, after noticing the shock and horror in your eyes.

You forced yourself to calm down, bottling up all your emotions now for a breakdown later as you faced the Harbinger. “I-It’s okay. I understand.”

“Excellent. I shall let you get dressed and ready for the day before giving you a tour of the House.” Arlecchino’s hand lingered on your cheek for a beat longer, her crimson eyes gazing into your dark pools. She removed her hand and departed before you could speak up, and thankfully you didn’t have to. 

Accepting your fate, you changed into the clothes inside the closet, as another sense of uneasiness bubbling in your stomach at how the clothes perfectly fit your body. You brushed your teeth and washed your face, reminding you that this was the reality you were in. Not some fantasy or dream world. Stepping outside your bedroom, you found the Knave standing idly by the door, those red crosses instantly landing on your figure the moment you opened the door. 

“You look wonderful in that.” Arlecchino mused, her lips curled upwards slightly as she beckoned for you to follow her. Looking back once to ensure you were behind her and not trying to escape, Arlecchino began her tour. You stayed by her side, listening to her explain the schematics of the House of Hearth and the history, though never delving into great details. She led you through the different halls and floors, until the two of you passed by the dining hall. 

“Are you hungry?” The Harbinger asked, no sign of malice in her voice as she looked at you.

“U-Uh..” Before you could think of a convoluted lie so the tour could move on and end sooner, your stomach answered for you.

Your stomach churned as you heard the Knave let out a chuckle, your heart thudding at the sound as Arlecchino smiled at you. “I suppose you are. Come. Allow me to fetch you some breakfast.”

No. Why were you feeling this? This feeling of… longing. Longing to hear that chuckle again. Longing to see those lips curl upwards and those eyes bore into yours, a hypnotizing gaze that told you everything would be alright. No. This was the Knave. Arlecchino was a Fatui Harbinger. She killed people. The blood on her hands was far greater than you’d ever known. 

But yet a part of you couldn’t help but keep thinking about Arlecchino possibly seeing you only in your undergarments and carrying you and tucking you in, a sense of joy and glee filling your heart. 

“What would you like?” Arlecchino brought you over to the breakfast bar, waving and greeting the children that occupied the hall.

“Do you have pancakes?”

“Pan..cakes?” Arlecchino looked at you, confusion written all over her face.

“I-I like pancakes.” You mumbled under your breath when you realized she didn’t have a clue about what you were talking about.

Arlecchino instantly shook her head, her gaze softening as she granted you a small smile, immediately making you feel better. “I will ensure that the kitchen will make these.. pancakes of yours for you. How about some fruit and yogurt as a substitute for today?”

“Sure.” 

“So, that concludes the tour.” Arlecchino cleared her throat, rummaging through the files on the cabinet behind her desk as she grabbed a piece of paper, placing it on the table in front of you. “Your employee contract. Sign it, and you will become a teacher at the House of Hearth.” Arlecchino listed several things that came along, as you sat on the plush chair reserved for the children that visited her offices. Every once in a while, she’d glance over at you, watching you eat your bowl of yogurt and fruits, your eyes following her figure pacing around. 

“Any questions?” Arlecchino turned her head towards you. Her gaze softened ever so slightly when she saw you with your knees to your chest, holding the empty bowl with both hands as you looked at her with those innocent round eyes, a smudge of yogurt on the corners of your lips.

“No.” You responded, shaking your head, setting the bowl aside. 

“Well then.” Arlecchino placed a pen next to the contract. 

Arlecchino watched you take a deep breath, picking up the pen and rereading the contents on the paper. She knew her methods of getting you here wasn’t the best, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel bad for taking you in your sleep and bringing you to the House without asking you. But then again, she stared at the paper, waiting for the pen to move, nails digging into her arm. Ever since that day at the flower shop, Arlecchino could not stop thinking about you. She wanted to have you close. Wanted to always see that innocent look on your face, oblivious to the world of danger she lived in. 

A sigh of relief nearly escaped Arlecchino’s throat as the pen moved across the surface, your signature on the line. She stifled it with a cough, taking the contract and gazed at the signature, as if trying to burn it into her brain. “Excellent. Take the rest of the day to adjust and get used to the surroundings. Is there… anything I can do for you?”

Arlecchino hoped you were going to say yes.

“...You don’t know what pancakes are?” You tilted your head.

Arlecchino blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“You work at an orphanage. With children. B-But you don’t know what pancakes are. Kids like pancakes. Pancakes are good”

“Are you insinuating that you are a child, then, Y/N?” 

Your cheeks flushed, realizing the error in your sentence. Arlecchino let out a low chuckle, reaching her hand out to wipe away the stain around your mouth. “How about you show me… what this pancake is? So the children could enjoy something new, and you would be happily fed.”

[millerscoffee]

heat lightning

6.5k | sub!joel miller x f!reader

gif credit: @jdmorganz

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: NO OUTBREAK. established relationship, no age gap – up to you for joel's age but he has creaky knees so..., sub!joel, bratty!joel??, mommy kink, rope kink, dom/sub dirty talk, joel whimperin' n whinin', gagging, choking, slapping, spitting, edging (m receiving), oral (f receiving - face riding), piv (unprotected), praise kink (good boy, etc.), pet names (pet, baby boy, honey, etc.), a touch of humiliation/degradation kink (spoiler: a moment of cock shaming – every body is a lovely body!), size kink (he still got that thang tho), we walk by breeding ave., sickly sweet aftercare, lingerie. dude if i missed it - it's probably in here! no use of y/n

A/N: thank u to the sweet anon (u know who u are) who requested this almost a month ago. i hope it was worth the wait! love youuuuu!!! ♡

Joel liked having his way.  Shocking.

This concept drew you to him, not only because you enjoyed being told what to do (every now and then), but even more that you wanted to challenge why he needed things to be his way in the first place.

You’ve been with Joel long enough now to know the mix of events that made him who he was.  Nights and days where he felt insecure for exposing all there was to him, but he was willing to fish it out of him to you.

Only to you.

Tonight wasn’t unlike a handful of nights the two of you shared since being together and unraveling Joel’s vulnerability.  It was beautiful, and in moments of softness, it was easy to reflect on how far he’d come.  But, right now?  You’re a little preoccupied.

---

It started earlier tonight.  Joel refused to wear contacts for the fourth time in a week, and forgot his glasses just as much.

And guess who had to remind him?  You!  Of course!  Every. Single. Time.

To wear his glasses, or put his contacts in.  But the week was busy at work – Tommy gone off again.  Or at least, this was his excuse.  More and more excuses poured throughout the week until it was a mere grunt at your suggestion.

Your knuckles blanching until you just gave up entirely. “Ah, fuck,” you hear from the kitchen, the view of Joel rubbing his eyes not long after the sound.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel,” words are sharp and you clench your teeth.  It catches Joel off guard at first, his head shooting up to meet your cold stare.  And before he can make an attempt to straighten you out, you stand up – rushing to the kitchen.  “I tell you this at least twice a fucking week.  ‘Joel, wear your glasses.  Joel, have you put your contacts in today?’  you know why your eyes hurt so fucking much?  Because you don’t listen to me, and I’m sick of it.”

“You know it’s been a rough week,” Joel’s tyrannical now, his jaw setting – ticking forward.

“Oh, I’m sorry – did I give you permission to speak?” you raise an eyebrow waiting for a reaction, but instead you witness the shift of his hips and the drop of his gaze.

He feels the energetic shift as much as you do, and seems into it.  The hitch in his breath gave him away.

“No, ma’am.”

“Bedroom.  Now.  Swear to god, if you make me repeat myself.”

So he goes and you follow.  And you bring a dining chair with you.

Placing it down, you go to the closet to grab some clothes before turning your heel to face a man whose cock shouldn’t be so fucking hard from getting your last nerve.

“I’m going to change, and you are going to sit on this chair.  Naked.  Do I need to repeat myself?”

Joel beseeches you silently with his dark stare and a steadfast shake of his head, “No, ma’am.”

You don’t respond because you don’t have to and usher yourself to the bathroom – door shuts behind you and you slip into something more dominating.

---

“Darlin’, it’s a little tight,”  Joel rattles now, his strength to hold back waning.  The rope that curled around the strong arches of his wrists tug harshly as it found tautness from behind the chair.

His wrists and ankles tied with knots that Joel taught you how to tie long ago.

The chair at the foot of the bed.

Feet planted firmly on the ground, you peer over him, changed into laced lingerie with leather accents. Red.  Cinched at the waist, your tits bloom out from the cups — daring to spill but never do.  You feel sexy, and you feel in control.  And fuck, you look so good.  Joel knows it, the way he sops you up just by his eyes.

He’s shorter than you like this, but his body still takes up so much space, and it’s intoxicating to observe Joel in such a submissive position in his sturdy frame.

“Is Darlin’ my name?” voice flat, you prop yourself up on the edge of the chair – tilting your head to scan over his body.  You take your time with each part of him.  Because his wrists are tied, yes, but you look down at the rest of him, completely stripped for you.  His hips jolt involuntarily, pathetically really, all from your words and you really watch between his legs.  The head of his cock pulsing with blush, weeping against his stomach and thigh as it arches.  And he twitches at your gaze.

“Oh, he likes that,” you remark condescendingly, and on any other day you’d be eager to wrap your lips around him.  To suck him until his toes curled and your name slipped through the air from his rough, but blissed out voice.  But tonight was about taking the lead, teaching a lesson.  Taking him how you wanted because you could.  And maybe because you loved him and wanted him to experience – to just experience without the expectation of being in command.

“Now, tell me,” you start, teasing the tops of your fingernails grazing the length of his thigh slowly – humming in approval, his body shuddering, his grunts fill the air, “what’s my name, Joel?”

“M-mommy,” the word scorches his cheeks, causing him to bite into his bottom lip and his eyes squeeze shut, precum beading to the tip.  His head hangs in unbearable arousal, chin lifting to catch your eyes.  The soft brown of his eyes, full of desire and willingness to do anything for you.  Anything… except doing what he’s told when he’s stubborn.  Your core aches when you squeeze your thighs together for relief, but you don’t falter.

“Mommy!” a fake gasp, you lean over to pat him on the cheek before smacking the skin ten percent harder, “That’s right!  Good boy!”

And that wrecks him, sends his hips flying off the seat as much as he can, but you’re quick to shove them down.  “Ah, ah, ah.  Not so fast, Mommy’s not done with you yet,” your fingers curl under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“How can you make me feel good, pet?  Let’s use our words,” you lean down enough for him to see your tits pushed together like this and the look on his face– god, you’d bottle it.  His brows wilted upwards, lips parting, and they’re so wet, so inviting, you want to kiss them for hours.  The right toy for you to use in pursuit of getting yourself off.

“I—I c’n use my mouth.  I wanna.  Wanna be good t’ya, mama,” and he’s almost begging.  He’s so close, you can tell he’s trying.  It’s just that, he’s distracted–  wants to devour you whole without having to ask, not like this.  He’s still not used to saying the things you so easily offer him on any other day.

“You wanna be good to me,” you repeat mockingly, tongue darting to one side of your cheek, “That’s too bad.  We’re not doing that yet, you still need to learn your lesson.  Gotta make sure you know who’s in charge, don’t we, darlin’?”

You don’t let him answer before you sit back at the edge of the bed, your legs spread as they relax against the mattress.  You watch Joel, how his head won’t look at you directly – not even if he wants to.  He feels too shy, too ashamed for not listening to you, and honestly you’re sick of it because you look fucking hot.

So you clap your hand at his chin lightly, “Miller.  Right here.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and those deep eyes take their precious time to rake their gaze over you.

“Is that how you act when a gorgeous lady’s in front of you?”

Joel lifts his brows first, then his eyes, “No, baby– I’m sorr–”

“Not my name.”

You see Joel’s mandible flutter again in frustration now because yes, you’re grinding his gears, but the vulnerability makes him uncomfortable, and he grits out, “No, mommy.  I’m. Sorry.”

“You’re on thin fucking ice Joel,” your arms cross over your chest, leaning forward to make eye contact, and though it makes your tits raise, your body language says it all: last chance.

That seems to make him reroute his stubbornnesses because he’s back to open expressions and spread thighs – thick as his cock that weeps pitifully against his abdomen and thigh.

“Yes, ma’am.”

If you were to admit it to yourself, you’re distracted.  His cock looks so good, throbbing like that – bobbing with each twitch as his balls tighten along with it and he’s so perfectly thick your mouth waters, but it is not about making his ego feel good tonight.  Not yet, anyway.  He must understand this behaviour is unacceptable.  Just when you think about caving, you’re reminded of how fucking obstinate he’s been and you get annoyed – dominant, all over again.

“Here’s how tonight's gonna go.  I’m gonna touch myself, use your mouth, and if you’re good, I’ll ride your pathetic excuse of a cock.  Sound good?”  you flash a sardonic grin cutting him off when his mouth opens, “Good!  Now shut the fuck up.”

It shouldn’t make him hard and it shouldn’t make slick gather between your legs, but of course it does because you’re both insatiable when it comes to each other.  Fueling a fire that can’t be tamed anyway, you unfurl in front of him – one palm against the lush duvet while the other trails in front of you, through the lace of your panties.  You squeeze your thighs together again, spreading your mess and there’s a wicked grin on your face because you know he knows just how it feels to have those thighs squeezing around his head.  To make that messy pussy of yours glide over his features.  And the damp fabric emits subtle sloshes from just how turned on you are by this.  You love the opportunity to have the upperhand.

Joel, he looks rabid, eyes unable to move from your core while the sweetest sounds fall out of your mouth.  Like a hypnotising trick from the circling of your clothed folds – a magician’s secret.  His stare is so animalistic you almost want to egg him on like a dog: this what you want, boy?  But you’ve got him right where you want him, and you don’t want to take him anywhere else.

“It feels good, Joel,” you confirm with no pornographic moans.  Rather a solid melody to your tone.  Grounded in your power.  You want Joel to know you can make yourself feel good without him, despite it being very much because of him.  “Better than you can make me feel.”

And Joel can’t take it anymore – he can’t stand it when you lie to him.  He’s seen you with him.  How you blossom under his touch until your thighs are shaking all on their own.  Seen drool spill from the corners of your mouth as you take and take and take from him, slurred praises floating from your needy throat.

“That ain’t fuckin’ true,” he growls like a caged animal, hips squirming into the chair, and you stop pleasing yourself – wrist frozen as the pressure on your clit becomes lighter, eyes narrow.

“Did I let you fucking speak?”  Question rhetorical, you slip your scanty panties off and wad them up before prying his mouth open and shoving them, crotch-side first, inside to mute any more rebukes.  The taste of your sex coats his tongue and his moans are muffled, eyes roll back for a fleeting moment – as if he forgot what he was even saying to begin with.  His wrists slightly turning colour from the resistance against the rope.  Hog heaven, you can hear the southern phrase drawl from his lips without the words.

“And what?  You think you can make me feel better than I can?  You really think that?” Joel finally smartens up when he realises you’re naked from the waist down and can see the slick against the seams of your thighs while your legs are apart – how turned on you are by keeping him on a line, and god the air is thick.  His eyelids droop to the sound of your voice, the scent and taste of you overcoming him as a piteous nod is given to you.  Poor baby.

It should irk you, the fact that he believes he knows your body better than you do, but it rakes the coals instead.  It’s in that he’s so eager to show you how he can get you there – makes you curious, your pussy tingles in anticipation, pulse rises.

“If I let you go, are you going to be compliant?  Because if you think you’re in control, you’re wrong and I need to know you’ll be a good boy for me.  Will you be a good boy for mommy if I tell you what to do?”

The strained pleas from the fabric and emphatic nods give you reason to follow through with your promise.  And he looks like he means it, like you’ve worn him down to submit to you fully without restraint.  You can tell he’s in pain from how hard he is.  Like he’s being edged without even touching him.  His hands must be numb, his body could tremble at the slightest touch.

It’s enough for you to waltz behind him.  You loosen the rope, ghosting your hands over the other typically warm set and despite them being tingly – he can still feel you.  His breath hitches, the slopes of his shoulders are so gorgeous from behind.  The muscles of his back taut as they flex, their silent entreat for relief.  “It’s okay,” you whisper, now that you can’t see him, you feel more inclined to be forgiving.

The arousal is a constant build between the two of you.  When you let his wrists loose, he doesn’t move.  Just rolls his knuckles into fists, bringing blood and oxygen back to the extremities.  He’s good on his word, and makes that known when you untie his ankles.  He’s giving it up to you – totally conceding, and moreover adores this side of you.  He knows he’s the only one you could ever be this assertive with because the relationship you have creates room for it.  Both of you feel safe.  His teeth tighten around your panties when you come back around to him, and you cup your small hand, comparatively, to the side of Joel’s neck.

“You good little thing.  Got mama so proud,” pushing his curls back, you pull the spit-soaked garment from between his teeth and he’s beaming, nudging his cheek against your touch hungrily.  “Go lie on the bed, honey.”

His joints creak from age when he does, having sat there for what felt like an eternity but he does exactly as you say: nothing more, nothing less.  Hums softly to himself at the feeling of being able to lie flat on his back because it feels so good, and in the brief moment it’s there without a role – your adoration for him, the gentle quirks that make him so delectable.  He deserves to sit back like this, to let his brain just take rather than supply.

However impatient he may be in the process of submission.

“You are doing so well, Joel.  I know you have a pristine mouth too, don’t you?  Are you gonna show me your tongue?”  Getting onto the bed, you walk on your knees as this newly obedient Joel sticks out his tongue flat for you to float over.  Your throat dries at that, how perfect he can be for you like this.  A smirk comes over your features, “Much better with your tongue out than running it all the time,” and you swear you see Joel’s teeth creep up in a similar smile, but you’re busy straddling his waist with your ass facing his chest to notice.

His strong nose bumps against your clit when you bracket his head.  Sipping the air abrasively, your body seizes at the sensation.  Clearly more sensitive than your confident words let on, but that’s just the thing – you are confident and extremely horny and you can admit it.  So you give in, purring deliciously when you lower over his mouth until you’re sitting completely on his face.

“Love using this mouth for my cunt,” fingers tangle through the strands of his hair and you use it to roll your hips frantically, yet methodically, against the heat of his wet mouth.  His tongue hits your folds succinctly, on purpose, and even though you haven’t allowed him to touch you, his movements are so precise it’s as if he’s rolling your hips for you.

“Fuck, you’re swimming in it now,” you groan, neck thrown back before leaning your neck over to the side to watch his eyes flutter shut – the slight shake of his achy jaw, the sweat at the top of his hairline.  He’s putting in the work to take it, even when he feels like giving up.

The squelching of your juices has you in your own trance, and though you would wait for his cock to give into the prickling at the pit of your belly, you decide to go give in to what you want in the moment – to orgasm right here, right now.  All over Joel’s face.

Pulling the top of your pubic bone, your clit exposes to the plush of lips beneath you.  “Suck.”  The instruction is simple compared to the stir of fireworks that he sets off inside you.  Because he does what you say, and how you say it, instantly.  Joel’s eyes roll back alongside his muffled, but satisfied moans that vibrate against the bundle of nerves he’s taking his time to satisfy.  Wet suction sounds fill the room when the air breaks off, his tongue swirling right underneath the hood of you and you break out in a sweat from how impossibly good he is at this.

“Y-you’re so good for mommy,” you sound wrecked, Joel looks up at you when he catches just how gone you are.  Loving to see you take what you want from him, using his mouth to pleasure yourself.  You rock deeply, your hands knead over your lace-covered tits and when you look down at him again, he can’t keep his eyes off of you.  Eating you like he worships you, and you’re certain he does.

But using him meant not warning him when you were close.

So it comes as no surprise, the influx of low, masculine, ached groans from beneath you when your body responds to its pleasure.  Your fingernails dig into your fists as you shudder and moan above him, the lightning rising from your core to your limbs in a matter of seconds – and in waves.  You lean forward, catching yourself at the headboard and let out a slight chuckle at the comedown.  The two of you surfacing in between this power dynamic.  “Shit.”

That’s short lived under your ruling, however, and you slide off of him – getting your bearings.  Joel stays still, his mouth vivid pink to match his cheeks, beard and lips sheened with your slick.  The look in his eye shows his constraint, his need for something and when you pluck your gaze down his body.  His beautiful cock straining against his abdomen, a pool of precum greets you.

“This?”  You raise both eyebrows, pointing between his legs, “This needs touchin’?”

“Please,” fuck, he sounds ruined – consumed with lust and need for anything you can give him.  He’s really begging now, not the bullshit he tried to deliver you in the beginning.

“Okay, baby,” you coo, “You’re so good for me, gonna make you feel so good.”  When you finally, finally acknowledge his cock, his abdomen jolts though you barely touch his sides.  You laugh through your nose briefly, “That bad, darlin’?”  His head sways ‘yes’ against the pillow before saying it, and you waste no more time in your pursuit to obliterate him now.

So you straddle him.  Right at his waist, angling above where his twitching cock lies.  You can feel the heat radiate off the both of you.  Your core pulsing from your orgasm, wet from slick and spit.  You have some wits about you now that you came, and it aids you in authorising the next step – the step that has every nerve at the edge of its seat for Joel.

Joel’s body.  The taut skin, the hair down his arms and across the landscape of his chest down his middle.  Your own body fills with anticipation when you anchor your hips further down until your folds are greeted by the underside of his length and it’s unhurried when you both shudder in response.

“Sh-shit, shit, darlin’–mama,” he inhales sharply, those words transitioning to whimpers when you glide your hips over his cock back and forth with intention – applying more pressure with each pass.

“Yeah, you like that?”

Joel’s tongue skates over his bottom lip as he nods frantically, and you still yourself.

“Nuh uh.  Words, tell me.  Need to hear you say it, Joel.”

“F-feels so good, honey.  Feels like my kinda paradise.”

Or at least that’s what you are pretty sure you hear.  It’s rushed from his feverish breaths, but he’s doing his best.  Wants to make an impression that he is committed to giving in.  It’s when his eyes slip shut do you lean your body over him, tilting his chin, you wrap one hand around his throat though it doesn’t quite reach around to completion.

“You beautiful man. Keep your eyes on me, yeah?”

Joel blinks them open to see your hooded eyes above him, unable to hide just how in awe he is.

“Y’look gorgeous, mama,” and shit– you feel your cunt clench around the absence of him at that.  At how candid and altruistic his words are in the moment.

“You’re one to talk,” you run the tops of your fingers against his beard, hips languid.  “Stay right here.  My good boy.  M’gonna take this big fucking cock.  That’s right, isn’t it?  Make you know for certain who it belongs to.”

And he loves hearing you talk about him like this.  Looks so serene as you sit upright, peeling the rest of your layers off until you’re both naked and he looks like he desperately wants to touch you, but you give him a stern look – not yet.  Not until I take you myself.

Reaching behind, you press the head of his cock at your entrance and hiss at the instant stretch.  Not working yourself up with his fingers shows when you envelop him like this, and you can feel him digging his heels into the bed from just how you feel around the head of him.

“M-Mommy!”

The sound of him whining is symphonic to your ears.

“Shhhh, you can take it.”  The role reversal makes you shiver, your wet sex moving down a little more before you pull up, popping off of him completely and his hips stammer trying to follow you, but he soon realises the edge you’re bringing him to.

He’s greeted with your sinister smile.

“What, honey?”  You lean over him, forcing his chin up, you deliver a slap to his cheek before sliding down his cock again – working him up and down, then off again.

His bottom lip trembles and puffs.  He’s losing his cool, hands ghosting your hips because he knows better than to touch you like this.  Not when he’s so close to getting what he wants.  The heat, the fucking heat from them – you shake.

“P-p, mama, mmngh,” his whimpers put you in a daze.  How he feels so good he can’t even form a proper sentence.  Your free hand claws at his chest while the other at your front edges him – rocking against the underside of him again.  Minutes feel like hours when you rile him up like this, and you know you look a mess too.  Fucked out, nipples peaked and you catch his gaze on them – his hunger for you extends through the room leaving heat on your skin as it radiates, the energy bouncing off from this tantric experience.  The eye contact is insane: Joel’s pupils dilated, eager against the constant spasm of his cock against your messy folds.

All humidity, sweat, and sex make their presence irrevocably known.

You’re slipping.

But you muster one last discipline, leaning down so your tits graze against his chest.  You brush your nose against his, insisting his precum spreads against your entrance.  He grunts, teeth together, hips grinding as best as he can without breeding you into your submission.  And fuck, you’d almost allow it.

Almost.

 “Should’ve worn your fucking glasses.”  You whisper against his lips, your clit brushing against the coarse hairs of his lower abdomen, and it’s exactly then does he spill over his breaking point.

“I’ll wear them, I’ll wear them!” And, fuck, Joel sounds pained – he sounds sorry, and he sounds desperate.  “Please!  Please just let me come, mama.  I wanna paint ya up so good, honey.  P-please, mama!  I’ll get fuckin’ lasik – please, just lemme in that perfect pussy!”

That’s the green light.

Placing him back inside, your hips grind on him shallowly.  Both hands tighten around his throat, albeit a bit looser than the one fist he’d have around your neck – but it seems to do the trick and you buzz in satisfaction before a choked moan fills your lungs: the sound he’s been craving.  Your body giving in, doing what it does.  It’s nature, after all, giving into these feelings.  “Fucking take this cunt.  Fill mommy up, yeah?  You wanna make me a real mama, baby?  C’mon, let go for me.  You can let go, you can move.”

It’s a lightswitch.  It’s flipping a breaker, giving Joel such permission.

You yelp when he tosses you off of him.  Onto your back, he’s on his knees within a blink – gripping your thighs, he pries you apart before his cock spears inside you with little remorse, and “Oh-my god – your cock!” you scream.  It’s exactly what you need now.  You nod through knitted brows, praises fill the space between you.  You take his chin between your thumb and pointer, one arm around his shoulders you pry his lips apart to transfer spit right inside his mouth.  Your tongue glides over his and he drinks straight from the source.  You can feel his Adam's apple wobble as it swallows what you’re giving him underneath the pad of your thumb.  “That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you mutter sloppily from the rutting of his deviant hips.

Gravity’s against you when you spit in his mouth again, getting some of it on your chin and nose, but fuck, you don’t care.  You want it filthy like this with your head half off the bed, his fingers plucking your nipples as it ripples pleasure down your center.  “I’m doin’ okay, mama?  This whatcha need?”  This sly fucker.  “S-s’perfect!”  The requirement of reassurance fastens you in the leadership role you assumed in the beginning, and you’re so fucking thrilled Joel’s your partner.  How he can deliver you mindblowing thrusts, yet still look at you through his lashes like he’s the softest motherfucker on the planet.  A gleam of pride in his eyes and at the corner of his lips when he hears your juices be tapped in a fast tempo by his heavy balls.  Like giving you pleasure is the pearl he longs to hold for dear life itself in his capable hands.

Of course, he circles your clit for good measure.  Of course he would.  Little shit.  It works like a charm.

He knows your body, said it himself.  How it operates, how to take you there.  And you’re panting, hips lift to be greeted by his thrusts all the way to the base of your stomach – achieving the spongy spot only Joel can reach.

You feel it happen like a coiling, a buildup of thin air and then all at once: immense pleasure.  It snaps, your body convulsing around his cock, core fluttering as your moans get higher, and you think he’d slow down, but it makes him work harder.  You try to keep your eyes on him, but it’s just no use, he’s too good at his job.  “F-fuckin’, mmngh,” you can’t get out much else, but you’re soaking his cock – what else could possibly be said?  Your tits bounce to his thrusts and you can tell this is it for him.  He’s been so proficient at keeping it together all this time.  Your eyes pop open then, lips wet, you tug for him to come closer.  You don’t fucking care that his sweat sticks to your shoulder when he buries his forehead against your neck.

Joel keeps his whimpers close to your ear.  His moans of your name, his passion for this feeling – all of it, right against you.  Like a secret, like a prayer and you’re the divine goddess in every moment of reverence.

“Can’t last,” he drawls, a coherent sentence flows through him for a moment and you nod, mouth brushing against the red of his neck.  “Give it to me, Joel.”  Lips dance at his pulsepoint as the contact bounces from his thrusts, and you can hear his heart thud from outside his body.  It floods you, the sawing of his cock inside, the swelling sensation against your walls.  Tugging his hair, you pull him back just enough to see his faded eyes, “Give me every drop, baby boy.  Come for mommy.”

His lips attempt to make contact with yours, but really all he can do is breathe heavily into your mouth and it’s dizzying, being each other’s oxygen.  “S-s… so p-perf–,” he tries, he really tries in making the words connect, but even his core feels shaky from his forearms on either side of your head.  You snake your hands around his throat once more, and that’s fucking it.

Joel’s sounds are a mix of the low grunts you know, tailending with particular whimpers that leave you moaning back to him like a call to each other.  Holy fuck, you’ve never heard him make that sound before.  And he’s good on his promise – coating your inside sticky with his substance, your own vibrational tone is low in your throat as you hum in approval.  Until he rides it out.  Until his pleasure turns sensitive and his hips come to an end.

“Oh, baby,” you praise, delicate hands leaving his throat, you pet his back – warm and masculine and rippled with muscles that he attained from his work.  He’s out of breath, and you both laugh at it, pressing tender kisses to his nose and lips.

“Might fuckin’ die at this rate.”

“Well, at least we had a good run.”

It feels empty when Joel pulls out of you, his lanky body shakes the bed when he gracefully thwacks onto the mattress beside you.

“Mmmng.”

A flawless response.  Mmmng, indeed.

You stretch your arms overhead, facilitating a yawn in the process.

And you don’t ignore the way it feels to have his cum spill out of you.  Hot and sticky and where it’s meant to be.

“Stay there,” you whisper, rolling onto your side, “You did so good.  I’m so proud of you, baby.”  You even speak differently now – tender and light, peppering kisses all over his tired face in satisfaction.  Slipping up to your feet, you go to the adjoined bathroom and run the bath.  Putting a couple of drops of your favourite essential oil to make the sensual experience last in the afterglow.  You peek your head out from the bathroom door when it’s ready and give him a gentle look of compassion.  “It’s ready.”

Joel grunts when he propels all of his upper body strength to sit up in one go.  You can’t get enough of him.  The way he looks – sleepy and fucked, arms thick and shoulders broad.  You have both earned this bath, even if it’s crowded.  He sinks in, and you get in front of him, and honestly you both close your eyes for a long while.  Exhausted, used.  He wraps his arms around the front of your shoulders, and it’s regulatory to your nervous system.

“I really am sorry,” he finally gruffs, wide palms cater to your shoulders as you melt and sink into the bathwater with him.  “This week’s been… it don’t matter.  You tell me ‘bout my eyes all the time, and I never listen.  I will, I promise.  I didn’t mean t’make your life harder.”

You frown at the last bit, turning in the water so your chest is against his.  Drops spill out the tub when you do.

“You never make my life harder, Joel.”

“Seems like it,” and you can tell he’s not saying it to play the victim.  He’s vulnerable and feels safe enough to share this shame with you.  “Seems like I end up fuckin’ somethin’ up.”

No.  You won’t be having any of that.

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you shake your head in tandem with your words.  “Not even close, do you understand?”  Sternly, you keep his eyes poured into yours.  “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  I mean it.  You make everyday brighter.  Even when you’re a royal pain in my ass.”

You both join in with laughter before you rest your warmed cheek to the hairs on his chest.  “I swear.”

Joel’s throat vibrates to the tune of your last words, and fingers comb through your hair, leaving you both to flutter your eyes shut in the all-too-small bathtub.

“Okay, I believe you.  But only ‘cuz I’m a pain in your ass.” 

You take in his warmth, so much as sniffing at his words, and it feels good to be connected like this after those moments of taking matters into your own hands.  It feels good for both of you to be unarmed to each other without consequence.

When it's time for you to get out, you dry off before holding out a towel to wrap around him and you lean up, pressing your lips to his – both naked and comfortable.  Basking in the aftermath – the scene you two created in the bedroom you transition into.  Your eyes scan over the bed: the unkept version of sheets, pillows haphazardly thrown together and you individually slip your clothes on.  It feels nice to have a soft fabric cloak over your skin, his t-shirt fitting easily from the worn material.  Joel takes your hand in one of his, the dining chair in the other.  You look back at the room before flipping the light off.  At least for a moment, you’re both pretty tired and will work around the mess soon.

Then there's the kitchen.  Where it started.  But you don’t feel the same aggravation creep up as it did before.  Instead, Joel wraps his arms protectively around you when you rise to your tiptoes to grab a couple of mugs from the cupboard.  It feels like slipping into a warm pool, and you never want to leave.  He is more enchanting than the tub could ever be.

“Hot liquid for my man?”

“Y’could just say tea, I ain’t gonna gag, you know?”

You snicker, turning the kettle on and closing your eyes as his chin tucks at the crease of your neck, not so sure he means it.  Coffee?  Yes.  A blend of chamomile and lavender?  You weren’t so sure.  But he doesn't turn his nose up when you press the teabag to him, so you sneak a kiss and you plop one bag in each cup.

“I dunno, you might gag,” a knowing smirk grows at the side of your cheek that Joel’s at and you mercifully knock temples, as if your brain waves could send each other the memories you have from tonight.  Everything primal and raw, all for the both of you.

“No more gaggin’ tonight,” there’s a laugh in Joel’s words and you scratch his beard idly as you pour your hot drinks when it’s time.  “That’s alright, baby boy.  Mama can handle a little bit of gagging if it means you’re taking.”

“You better watch it,” smile behind his voice, his nose nudges the edge of your jaw and a shudder draws out a small purr from deep in your chest – especially because you know there’s not an ounce of a menacing tone behind the threat.

“I’m not doing anything,” the grin transfers to your face and you turn to face him, arms wrapping around his shoulders because you can and he pulls you up until your feet leave the ground.  It’s a stretch that feels good, your heart’s content.

“Yeah, you’re just so good.  You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be bad unlike us common folk.”

And that makes your cheeks rush with blood because you know it’s only a matter of time before the tables turn.  Before you’re caught doing something Joel has told you thousands of times to do or don’t, and he has you in some precarious position to drive you back to the version of your best self.

Still, it’s funny, and you nose against the column of his neck – all sweat still mixed with the bathwater and something so innately, masculinely, Joel Miller.  “Not too good, just clever.  I get away with a lot more than you think, old man.”

“Easy.”  His tone shifts all too easily into a warning, his hips pinning you to the edge of the countertop.  Your eyes widen before you press your index finger to his lips, shushing him.

“Relax,” you pet his shoulders, before leaning up to kiss his eyelids, “I like that you’re an old, senile man I can swindle.”

“Goddamn, you’re at record time in attempting to prove just how misbehaved y’really are.”

Finishing the tea, you hand his mug off with a nonchalant shrug.

“I learn from the best, I guess.”

You wait a beat.

“So… lasik, huh?”

Joel practically chokes on his beverage.  “Uhhh…,”

“Great!  I’ll book the appointment tomorrow!”

You won’t (probably), but the look on his face is priceless.

“Yeah, yeah.”  That makes Joel smile eventually, his rough hand cupping the side of your face before planting a dichotomously tender kiss to your forehead, and you are steadfast to reciprocate the affection.

The only thing that matters, anyway.

No matter all the hardships, the restless nights.  It’s this.  It’s delivering Joel to his knees as he worships you, then securing him with a warm cup of liquids in the form of tea, bath, the undulating nature of your arms in their energetic vibrations when they find his frame.

You would take care of him.  You would catch him.

Like how rivers bend and rush to oceans:

Everything leads back to him.

taglist: @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @sinfulrock @jasminedragoon @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @scarletthefierce @pedritoferg - comment to be added, and please let me know if i missed you!