#tommy daddy kink canon

[spicyvampire]

Buck : I have daddy issues

Tommy :

[cowboylikesel]

“bucktommy bones“ “training wheels” “plot device” “experiment” “date around” “stepping stone” “breakup in 7x06/[…]/7x09/7x10” “feelings realisation”

[buckleyskin]

THOMAS KINARD HAS A WHAT ??@;@:@3&:

[smallandalmosthonest]

.

[nobigsecrets]

God. I hope so.

This whole scene between Buck and Tommy is the most authentic depiction of a mlm relationship I've seen in a while (on mainstream television that is). They're adult men. They're very masculine adult men. Yes, they can be emotional. They can be vulnerable with each other. And they were in this scene. But likely they will be over it quickly. Way more quickly than the average fangirl wants them to. They won't have a lengthy heart-to-heart about their emotions when everything important has already been said. They won't cry over feelings like they do in every other fanfiction. They will quickly seek for a distraction from dealing with the heavy emotional stuff and because they're two grown-ups, two adult men, who are also still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship that distraction is very likely to be sexual. Like it or not, it's realistic.

Calling it problematic (or worse) that Buck and Tommy talk about Daddy Kink after this conversation and that they're into it? That's just showing how little life experience a huge part of fandom has and how little they actually know about men in general and gay men and gay life in particular. For all that mlm ships are the biggest part of fandom and fans crying for their mlm ships to become canon for years or even decades, the moment you're getting an authentic representation of a grown-up gay relationship you run away screaming because it doesn't match with your lovey-dovey vanilla expectations? That's nothing but bigotry talking.

[kinnsporsche]

listen i know we're all still riding the high of canon daddy kink but like. "come to think of it, captain gerrard was like having the dad i already had" tommy canonically spending 30 years of his life plagued with self loathing and trying desperately to chase approval from men he would never get it from, men who hated the very core of who he is, of his existence.

tommy who never got to have a bobby, who never got to have a version of a positive father figure in his life, who, even now in his 40s, still clams up when gerrard makes digs about him being gay

tommy who wanted a dad who'd love him so bad, but all he was ever met with was bitter men who latched onto him and dripped venom in his mouth and poison in his ears. tommy who was raised with an angry man in his house. so there will always be an angry man in his house.

[mazzystar24]

Oml okay so me personally I was laughing at the fact that buck keeps getting kinks confirmed in canon but ngl the whole scene did fall flat for me

Now about the daddy kink discourse (good lord there is a sentence I never thought I’d type):

1. My dude please don’t tell queer people what queer culture is, you really think the large demographic of tumblr users are straight? 😭😭

2. No one is actually bothered about buck or Tommy having a daddy kink or the sexual flirting , y’all missed the point what people are bothered about is the context that conversation came up

3. The writers had the chance to make this into a really sweet and vulnerable moment where buck and Tommy open up to eachother and Tommy had spotted buck’s worry and buck let’s him be a safe space, instead they had the conversation turn into a flirtation and daddy kink joke, honestly if you wanna be like oh that might be Tommys personality, then okay let’s play devils advocate and so you could’ve kept the daddy kink joke but have some line after about Tommy wanting to lighten the mood, but to have it be like a genuine flirtation it’s just not great in the context

If anything I’d think bucktommy shippers would’ve preferred the former with the vulnerable scene

4. Since y’all wanna talk about not knowing queer cultures I want y’all sat for some sociology info dumping, found families isn’t just a trope loved by queer people, it’s something actually reflective in queer culture for decades because for obvious reasons many queer people had been rejected by their bio families and formed a new pseudo-family, but then this kinda becomes a common practice for queer people (both with familial trauma and without) because of an inherent openness toward alternative family structures and forms

So if we’re talking about how queer culture should’ve influenced that scene then buck calling bobby the dad he never had SHOULDNT have been met with a dry “ your dad is still alive” it should’ve been immediately understood even without knowing bucks trauma

[aurorawritestoescape]

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller

Tw: 18+ mdni smut, mfm, power imbalance (boss/employee), ‘sir’ kink, praise kink, tiniest bit of degradation, oral (f/m receiving), cum eating, unprotected piv (wrap it up obv), creampie, rimming, multiple orgasms, butt slapping (light), voyeurism, swearing, no use of y/n

Word count: 3,2k

A/n: thank you @noxturnalpascal 💖 for an amazing idea to write fics based on this PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW)

I added Tommy to the mix cos what’s better than one Miller boy? Yeah, two Miller boys😝

Other fics based on the prompt: Room 301 @milla-frenchy Dancing is a dangerous game @noxturnalpascal Webcam for beginners @iamasaddie

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

You’ve been doing stripping as a side job for a few months now. As a postgrad student you were broke and in debt. You needed money to help out with the tuition, which was unbearably high. On top of that your car broke down and you’ve been trying to save for a new one. One of your friends who’d done it told you that the money was good and the hours were flexible. So you decided to give it a shot.

The gig turned out to be great. You were often tipped generously and though the men were usually drunk and overly excited you’ve been lucky enough to be treated fairly well. They called you Diamond because of your sparkling silver costume and glittering boots.

Today you are shining at a birthday party. It’s a total sausage fest and everyone is excited about the headliner - you. The men are cheering you on as you’re giving your best lap dance to the man of the evening. The music is blaring while you are slowly taking off your sparking top before pushing your breasts together and swaying your hips seductively. You’re still wearing high silver boots and a tiny diamond-encrusted thong.

Everyone is already buzzed. Everyone except the birthday boy. He doesn’t seem to be drunk at all as his dark piercing eyes are sliding across your glitter-covered body with intent and hunger. Sometimes he gives his friends a little smile and laughs at their thirsty comments. But when his gaze returns to you his expression becomes focused and serious, one of a hunter whose unsuspecting prey is inching closer and closer, as he’s waiting for the right moment to strike. There is something hypnotizing about the man and you feel the magnetic pull every time your eyes meet.

You want him to want you. And judging by a big bulge in his jeans you’re doing great. You’re practically drooling over him as your hands are gliding over his broad shoulders, strong chest, running through his dark curly hair. After some time you see only him, and your heart flutters and core burns with desire.

You’re hovering over his lap, his face inches from your bouncing breasts as your hips move the way you’d ride him and your hands are holding onto his muscular shoulders. He wants to say something to you so you lean down bringing your ear to his plush lips. His breath tickles you and you giggle.

“Can I get a private dance?” he asks a little louder so you could hear him through the music. He tilts his head to the side to look into your eyes. He’s gorgeous. Older, just how you like them. A scent of whiskey and something sweet hits your nostrils and you feel yourself getting wet. Your pussy tingles and you both decide to give this guy whatever he wants tonight. You smile at him nodding your head, maybe a little too eager.

🪩🪩🪩

That’s how you end up on your knees in the VIP room, fully naked between his spread legs, his cock deep in your throat. You’ve never done anything like that with a client but you just couldn’t help yourself. You would be fired in a second if anyone found out but you feel that he’s not the one to kiss and tell. His body, his eyes, his confidence drive any rational thought away from your mind.

When you were sitting on his lap having discarded your thong and boots and framing his legs with yours, your pussy was throbbing so much for him it hurt. You rested your head on his shoulder, turned to him and whispered in his ear, “You can touch me if you want”.

He chuckled and asked if he was allowed to but his fingers were already caressing your glistening seam. A few moments later he was fucking you with his thick digits, his tongue licking into your mouth. He knew his way around a pussy and you came hard, making a mess of his jeans.

Now you are sucking on his ball rolling it in your mouth with your tongue and slowly jerking his cock. His jeans are opened and tugged down his hips, your hand is splayed on his lower belly covered with soft hair. He’s watching you with a soft smile, half lidded eyes blown and hazy. You’re enjoying yourself so much you feel you might come untouched just from sucking him off.

That’s when HE barges into the room apologizing for being late. You hear the gravelly voice and your heart drops into your stomach. You freeze glancing up at the birthday boy with horror on your face. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!!!! Fuck! You recognise that voice immediately. You raise your head before glancing back. Of course it’s him! The father of the girl you’ve been babysitting for a few weeks. You always loved kids so babysitting seemed like a great idea. Well, until now when two of your clients met.

Joel Miller was always kind and respectful yet a little grumpy. You never blamed him, a single parent who worked very hard to provide his daughter with the best life. He was a great father judging by how well adjusted and happy Sarah was.

He doesn’t look grumpy now. With his mouth agape, he’s staring at the two of you and mumbles, “Fuck, Tommy.” He raises one brow and runs a hand through his dark hair in a nervous gesture. His black T-shirt rides up showing a slither of his soft stomach and a happy trail. Suddenly you remember all the times he would come home sweaty and hot from working outside all day and you bite your lip.

You’re used to being naked in front of strangers so it takes you a minute to realize you need to cover yourself up.

“Oh my god, Mr Miller. Fuck.. I’m so sorry,” you get up looking around for anything to put on. Of course there’s nothing except your tiny thong and the boots so you just place your hands awkwardly on your mound and breasts and stand between Mr Miller and ‘Tommy’, whose cock is still out and hard. He’s not putting it away, just sits there proudly. Your eyes are darting between the two men.

“You’re interrupting, bro,” Tommy says with a nonchalance in his voice. Now it’s your time to be surprised cos the man looks almost bored.

Joel visibly collects himself and comes up to you.

“I see that,” he says, looking you up and down and then turning to his brother, “Do you know that you’re getting blown by my babysitter?”

Joel looks back to you and brushes your arm with his big warm hand. You shiver at the touch.

“No shit! Babysitter?” Tommy sits up, finally expressing some interest. Joel hums and his brother chuckles and leans back again, holding his still hard cock in his hand, “Got yourself a new one?”

“Yeah… and I seemed to hit the jackpot,” Joel replies with a little smile but his eyes on you are darker, hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. Your skin erupts in goosebumps and you feel yourself like a bunny circled by hungry wolves.

“Mmm.. Mr Miller, I can explain,” you stutter nervously standing there like a school girl being scolded by a headmaster. You want to tell him that you don’t usually walk around sucking your clients off but Joel interrupts you, “No need to explain anything, sweetheart. Work is work. You did nothing wrong.”

His deep smooth voice makes your clit twitch and you almost gasp when he cups your cheek and lowers his face closer to yours, “I know you’re a good girl.”

“And full of surprises,” Tommy adds with a smirk looking at you almost differently, with more intrigue in the gaze and his cock twitches in his hand.

You glance up at Joel and his eyes slide to your lips and yours do the same. Your mouths are so close you’re breathing each other's air. His thumb is rubbing your cheek. Suddenly you jerk when Tommy coughs interrupting whatever is happening between you and your employer. Joel straightens up and his hand leaves your face.

“Ya know what,” he says walking to the chair across the room, placing it a couple meters away from you and taking a seat, “Don’t stop on my account.”

Your jaw drops and you freeze, hardly believing your own ears.

“You heard him, baby. We don’t need to stop,” Tommy repeats his brother's words as your shock is being replaced by excitement.

You hesitate at first but the idea of sucking a guy off when his brother is watching is so filthy that the burning in your core reignites again and you feel yourself gush.

You drop your arms exposing yourself to the men, come up to Tommy again and retake your previous position on your knees between his legs. You take his cock from him and turn your head back to Joel. His legs are spread, big hand resting on his inner thigh as he’s watching you.

You swallow loudly and turn back to Tommy. He must have read the anxiety on your face as he takes your chin between his fingers and gives you a warm smile.

“Don’t be shy, baby. My brother just wanna watch. Let’s give him something to remember when you come babysit for him next time.”

You blush, biting your lip and dropping your head. It can’t be happening. It feels like a weird wet dream. But you see this gorgeous weeping cock in your hand and your mouth salivates. And you would be lying if you said that you didn’t fantasize about Mr Miller bending you over his kitchen counter after your shift and fucking you senseless. So you bend down and kitten-lick Tommy’s fat tip. The man shamelessly moans and your pussy tingles at the sound.

You hear Joel’s groan as he must have a great view of your ass and pussy. The depravity of this situation makes your mind hazy and you arch your back wiggling your ass a little as you’re aching to be touched again. Your hand leaves Tommy’s balls which you were caressing and snakes down to your naked mound. You rub yourself there and then dip your fingers between your wet folds. A pathetic whimper escapes your lips muffled by Tommy’s cock and he twitches against your tongue stimulated by the vibrations.

“I think my naughty babysitter needs some attention, little brother,” Joel rumbles behind you and you hear a creak of the chair and his steps.

Parting from Tommy’s cock with a pop you turn your head and see Joel getting down on one knee next to you. You’re leaning on Tommys thighs, your elbows on his knees.

“You’ve been so good for my brother, sweetheart,” Joel says in a gentle voice, putting his hand on your back. You feel his calloused palm sliding down to your ass and then coming back up to your shoulder blades. “Has he made you come, baby?”

You nod your head staring up at him with slightly parted mouth. You still can’t believe you’re naked in front of the man you’re babysitting for and his brother. With the latter's precum on your lips.

“I’m a gentleman, Joel,” Tommy chimes in sounding offended. He glides his fingers along your neck, “Ladies always come first.”

Joel smirks and leans closer to your face not minding the stiff length of his brother just inches from you both and whispers in your ear, “Ya want another one?”

He presses his lips to your cheek and kisses you before traveling down to your jaw and neck. He grabs a fistful of your hair and holds you in place as he starts sucking a hickey into the delicate skin of your neck. You shut your eyes with a set of moans and tilt your head back for him.

“Don’t damage the goods, Joel”, Tommy jokes and the degrading remark sends you further into the depths of arousal.

“Please, make me come, Mr Miller,” you plead and both brothers seem to love it. Joel’s groaning against your neck while Tommy takes his cock from you and begins jerking his shaft.

Joel parts from you and you feel him gently pushing your head down. You follow his wordless command, lowering your face to his brother's crotch.

Joel guides you and when you open your lips he impales your mouth on Tommy’s cock.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck on it, sweetie, give my brother the best birthday present.”

Joel brushes the hair away from your face and watches you work Tommy’s cock for some time. His eyes are glued to your every move, every bob of your head, every swipe of your tongue around Tommy’s tip. The younger brother is holding your head on the other side and rhythmically raising his hips slowly fucking your mouth.

All this time Joel’s touch doesn’t leave you, he caresses your head, rubs your back and sides, until his hand snakes to your front and he grabs your breast and twitches your nipple. Your slick is dripping down your legs now and you can’t take it anymore.

With your lips still wrapped around Tommy’s cock you turn slightly to Joel and glance up at him. He’s panting and his half lidded eyes are clouded with arousal. He reads your expression and not being able to control himself any longer too, he orders, “Get up, sweetheart. But keep sucking.”

You do as you’re told placing your feet on the floor and standing up still keeping Tommy in your mouth. Joel gets up with a groan and walks behind you.

“Mr Miller’s gonna take good care of you, baby,” Tommy promises with a smirk and holds your arm to keep you steady in a new position. “Make sure she moans around my dick, bro,” he says louder and Joel hums in response.

“I know how to take care of a girl, little brother, don’t worry,” Joel quips, standing behind you as his clothed hard-on is pressed to your ass. You feel his fingers squeeze your cheeks and he gives you a light slap. You jerk and Tommy flinches, as your mouth moves on his cock a little too roughly. Joel chuckles and Tommy scolds him him,

“Be gentle, Joel, she’s got a mouth full of my cock.”

Joel laughs a little but his next movements are careful and soft. His big hands glide along your sides and down to your bottom again, rubbing your skin and making you clench around nothing. You wiggle your ass a little in invitation and he reads your signal.

“Look at her, Tommy. Can’t wait to be fucked by my fat cock while sucking on another dick… ahh..she’s gonna get a glowing recommendation from me.”

Both men laugh and you feel your pussy ache even more when they’re talking about you as if you’re not there and you place your feet further apart. “Ya wanna come on my cock, sweetheart, or my mouth?” Joel asks and you hastily part from Tommy and breathe out, “Cock, sir.”

“Fuck, baby,” Joel rumbles and you hear him unbuckling his belt and discarding it on the floor. You expect him to pierce you with his member any second now but you hear shuffling and then his warm lips kiss your pussy from behind. You gasp and Tommy smiles, gently pressing your head back down, “She’s like a little doe, so easy to spook.”

You lick the underside of the younger brother’s cock while Joel is behind you, peppering your pussy with open mouth kisses. Then his tongue slips between your folds and travels from your clit to your entrance. He spreads your pussy with his thumbs and your core burns with desire. You’re completely exposed, and you whine remembering that it’s Joel Miller who is about to make you fall apart while you’re blowing his brother. Joel’s movements are sure and effective and very soon your belly and thighs are trembling with an upcoming orgasm.

Mr Miller surprises you again when his tongue glides up to your asshole and he gives it a kiss after spreading your cheeks. You moan loudly not being afraid to be heard as the music is still blaring behind the closed door.

Tommy and Joel hear you well though and the oldest brother parts from your ass to lightly slap your cheek, getting your attention, “Ya like it, sweetheart? Will you let Mr Miller fuck your asshole with his tongue?”

“Yeah,” your whine, the sound muffled by cock. You roll your eyes in ecstasy and Tommy lifts your head by the hair a little to see the results of his brother’s actions on your face. Meanwhile Joel is licking your tight ring as his fingers rub circles on your throbbing clit. When he points his tongue at your little hole and starts poking it moving it deeper little by little you almost sob from the pleasure and lose your rhythm. You can’t concentrate on sucking any longer so Tommy pulls you off his cock.

“Hold it wide for me, baby” he commands, keeping you face above his red swollen tip and you do as you’re told, darting out your tongue. Your whimpers and moans fill the room accompanied by the squelching sounds of Tommy jerking his cock and Joel’s slurping on your tight hole.

Tommy’s eyebrows are furrowed and his gaze runs over your face, breasts and then your ass, being eaten out by his brother. The view takes him over the edge and he shoots his cum on your chin, lips and tongue. You close your mouth around his tip and drink everything he’s giving you. When Tommy pats your hand, you part from him and rest your head on his thigh, inches from his semi hard cock.

Joel gets up with a grunt and you finally feel his tip nudging at your dripping entrance. He impales you on his cock in one swift move and you scream when his tip hits your cervix. He’s big and your pussy aches trying to accommodate his thick length. You close your eyes and focus on the way his cock is gliding inside you, rubbing your sweet spot. A couple more thrusts and your whole body is shaking, ecstasy coursing through your veins, clit twitching and walls contracting. Your juices flow around Joel’s cock and he groans, “Yeah, good girl.. Fuck, squeeze Mr Miller’s cock.”

He begins thrusting into you vigorously and Tommy keeps you in place holding you tight while his brother starts pumping you full of his hot cum. Joel’s rough hands are gripping your hips leaving handprints on your skin while his cock is squirting seed deep into your pussy.

“Doing so good, baby,” Tommy coos at you, while you're nothing but a trembling shaking mess. He’s watching you both unravel and his cock twitches.

When your climax subsides and Joel stills and pulls out you fall on your knees between Tommys legs.

Both men help you up and Joel puts you like a rag doll on Tommy’s lap. You feel Joel’s cum leak out of you on his brother’s jeans.

You lean on the chest of the birthday boy resting your head on his broad shoulder, completely spent, drunk on endorphins and the depravity of what you’ve just done. Tommy lights up a cigarette as Joel gathers your clothes and boots and comes up to the two of you. He hands them to you and then caresses your cheek with a thumb giving you a warm smile,

“I’ll see you on Monday, sweetheart. Bring your costume.”

You smile back with a nod and he leaves.

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!💖

Tag list: @missannwinchester @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @nervousmumbling

I’d love to rec the fics that have been feeding my obsession with the Miller brothers combo! Check them out if you haven’t yet!♥️🥵

The Wrong Way @romana-after-dark

Leopard Print @toxicanonymity

Stuffing @toxicanonymity

At the Table @toxicanonymity

Liquid Gold @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Two Hands to Hold @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Too Depraved 4 TV @bonezone44

Smack My B*tch Up @milla-frenchy

[pearlessance]

Forgive Me, Father - Idle Threats [viii]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel hears your confession and breaks all ten commandments in the house of the holy.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, reader has added backstory to progress the plot, mention of sexual assault, murder, canon typical violence, renouncing of god, desecration of a church, blood, brief daddy kink

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

The following days are easier than any other you’ve had since leaving Jackson. It takes two days, but Joel hears your laugh again and feels himself release a heavy weight at the sound. Once, when the two of you are switching watch shifts, you sleepily mutter his name. And he goes to you like he always will—and you whisper an almost incoherent confession of your affection. “I love you, too,” you say, and he tries not to think about the way it makes him feel like a boy your age, hearing those words for the first time. 

You move slower, and it’s not because of the extra weight strapped to your horses. Joel doesn’t say it, but he knows it’s because you’re afraid of returning to Jackson. Afraid of things going back to the way they were before this run.

In truth, Joel worries about it too. Worries about finding a new routine, worries about Maria and Tommy and Ellie, worries about what they’ll say. It won’t make him change his mind, he knows. Nothing would ever make him regret this selfish decision to keep you. But sometimes, in a too-long moment of silence, anxiety builds in his chest when he thinks of it. 

But you still have several days before you return, and Joel intends to soak up this sweet, delicate time with you while he still can.

A little over halfway back to Jackson, you stop before the sun sets and make camp in an old, abandoned church. The very same one advertised on the billboard Joel had seen on the way to Casper.

Some of the pews are turned over while others have been broken apart and likely set ablaze in the pile of ashes in the center of the floor. There are no infected, but there’s a stone statue of Mary that looms ominously in the corner, covered in dust and cracked along its painted surface.

Joel feels uncomfortable here. Feels watched, judged. His skin crawls and he thinks about pushing on until you find some other place to rest.

The altar table has been left untouched, decorated with a yellowed, satin ribbon draped along its center. The bible lying on top is flipped open to a passage Joel knows well.

Corinthians 10:13 

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

It’s bookmarked not with a scrap of paper but with a silver necklace tucked in its spine. A dainty thing with a cross dangling from the end of it. Joel picks it up, watches it sway between his calloused fingers. 

And when he turns to face you, you’re standing in the middle of the center aisle and the setting sunlight casts a shadow across your face, making you look like some angelic being sent to him by God himself. “Did you ever come to one of these before the world ended?”

Joel nods, takes the necklace in his hands and finds his way back to you. “Quite a bit when I was a kid,” he answers. “My mom was pretty religious. We went to every Sunday service and sometimes the ones on Wednesdays, too. Even sent Tommy and I to the church's after-school program for young kids.”

He holds the necklace out to show you, and a shiver runs down his spine when you trace the cross in his palm, your touch electrifying. It’s just the smallest brush of your index finger, but it makes the air get caught in his lungs. “Pretty,” you say wistfully. “Do you believe in God?”

Joel jerks his chin in a silent demand and you obey wordlessly, turning away from him. He unclasps the necklace as you hold your hair out of the way. “I did,” he answers slowly, wrapping the silver chain carefully around your throat. “And then I didn’t.”

“And now?” 

He secures it and runs his knuckles down the nape of your neck. No would be the closest thing to the truth, but it’s not quite it. Joel thinks about lying to save himself the shame but rejects the thought as soon as it comes. “I believe in you,” he says quietly.

Somehow this confession feels heavier than his declaration of love. Perhaps it’s because this is the thing he’s struggled with, this strange worship of Judas. You’ve come to him in pieces, a shell of a girl, a betrayer—and yet it’s your altar he crawls to. It’s you who holds the keys to heaven, who controls both his grace and his damnation.

Joel leans forward and presses his lips to your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He can feel your breath falter, and so he does it again. This time a kiss to your shoulder, right above the collar of your sweater. 

His hands have a mind of their own as they find your waist. Joel knows this is wrong, knows how sinful it is, and yet he knows the only way to endure the taste of the forbidden fruit is to bite into it, to devour it, to consume it for as long as he’s able. He has spent so much of his life fighting, resisting, repenting—but maybe it’s time God asks for his forgiveness.

Your skin is smooth beneath his calloused palms. He slides them beneath your shirt, over your hips, up your torso. He pulls at the soft garment, and you lift your arms for him to make it easier as he pulls it off and discards it in the nearest pew.

And then his hands are on you again—this time tracing the edge of your jeans, pinky finger dipping slowly beneath the band around your waist, teasing. You’re panting now, chest rising and falling in quick succession. You say his name a little like a prayer and it brings a smile to his face. 

“Shh,” he says. “Patience is a virtue, little girl.” But he wants you, perhaps even more than you want to be touched, so his left hand finds the button of your jeans and undoes it. 

He moves slowly, and you stand completely still as Joel peels the too-tight jeans down your legs. You kick your boots off, and soon you’re standing in the middle of this crumbling church in nothing but a pair of baby pink panties and a white lace bralette, looking every bit the divine goddess he doesn’t deserve. 

When you turn to face him, there’s a playful glint in your eye. “Let me try it,” you say. “One question, though. Is it forgive me, father? Or is it forgive me, Daddy?”

Two things happen inside him at once. 

First, the crudeness of your words baffles him so completely that he laughs. Full-on laughs for the first time in twenty years. The vulgarity of it in a place of worship is somehow both amusing and horrifying. 

Second, all the blood in his head rushes south. Because the word daddy in your mouth is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard, the dirtiest thing he’s ever heard, and Joel knows right away that he will never have the strength to process why such a thing makes him so goddamn hard. Doesn’t even attempt it. 

He simply enjoys it instead. Allows it to drown him, consume him wholly. Accepts what is and what isn’t. Accepts that he is the most deplorable man that’s ever existed and it’s why he’ll never deserve you but it’s also why it’ll never matter. Because now…you belong to the most deplorable man. 

The devil and his pretty, perfect Judas.

And then you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and Joel struggles to keep his weary heart from bursting from his chest. 

His attempts at composure are blown to pieces when you press your hands together and look up at him through your lashes. With all humor bled from the moment, overtaken by a sudden hunger, you say, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” and something evil stirs inside him.

Something more than sinful. Something ungodly. Something blasphemous. 

That cross is draped beautifully between your breasts, cleavage elevated by the angle of your arms.

Joel reaches out with both hands and runs them through your hair affectionately. “You look so pretty on your knees,” he says. “You got somethin’ to confess?”

You nod and a smirk graces your face. “I’ve been having wicked thoughts,” you say, voice taking on an innocent and girlish tone. “And…I’ve been giving into temptation, Father.”

“S’that right?” Joel licks his lips. His cock throbs in his jeans, desperate for your touch in a way it’s never been before.

He watches, transfixed, as you take your bottom lip between your teeth, taking your hands from the position of prayer and instead running them up his strong thighs. You slide them beneath his flannel, soft hands cool against his heated skin. “I’ve been letting a man touch me.” You’re whispering, but he feels each syllable down to his bones. “An older man,” you continue, pulling at his belt. 

Joel finds you mesmerizing. Thinks you’ve ruined him. Completely, utterly decimated the man he used to be. “Touch you how?”

You don’t take your eyes off his as his belt clinks against the button of his jeans. “I’ve let him inside me, Father,” you say, pulling down his zipper at a torturous pace. “I’ve let him in my mouth, in my heart, in between my thighs.” 

He never thought it possible, but his need for you grows teeth, morphs into some vicious, ravenous thing. Joel brushes his fingers through your hair, pulling lightly at the roots. “And what do you think you should do as repentance, sweetheart?”

Joel’s reminded of a siren’s song when you answer, “I think I should show a little extra devotion. Don’t you?” You pull his cock from his jeans, and the simple touch of your hand has him nearly shaking in anticipation. You break character for only long enough to giggle softly, wipe the back of your hand over your glossy lips, and say, “My mouth is watering.”

He smooths your hair back away from your face, admiring the way you look on your knees for him, just as desperate as he is. “Go’head, baby,” he says.

You don’t waste any time. You’re slow in your pursuit; tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. Savoring, worshiping, devoting yourself to him and him only. You swirl your tongue around the head, licking up drops of precum.

When you finally take him into your mouth, you don’t stop until you’ve swallowed him whole, choking on it, nose pressed to the tuft of hair below his navel. It’s the most glorious thing Joel’s ever seen in all his life. And then you moan, and he can feel the vibrations of it down to his toes. 

You pull your head back far enough, and your mouth leaves him completely, connected by nothing but strands of saliva. Your lips are already bruised and swollen, but they pull into the prettiest, proudest smile he’s ever seen, and Joel’s weak in the knees. 

“Filthy little girl,” he says affectionately, hands still running through the silky strands of your hair. “Y’like that? Hm? You like that mouth filled up, don’t you?”

“Mmhm.” There’s so much love, so much worship in your eyes that he feels his chest pull tight. You take his cock in your mouth again, tongue sliding along the underside of it, cheeks hollowed out to take him in deeper.

Joel feels your devotion with each soft lick, each swallow at the back of your throat, each ragged, choked breath. He knows he won’t last long. Your mouth is too hot, too wet, too sweet. And when you pick up the pace, bobbing your head, fingernails leaving indentations in the exposed skin of his thighs, pressure builds at the base of his spine like a fucking noose. “There you go,” he encourages. “Doin’ so fuckin’ good, baby. Shit —just like that.”

Your cheeks are flushed, and Joel’s once gentle hands pull tight in your hair, guiding your mouth down onto him. It only makes those delicious moans around his cock that much sweeter. Your thighs are clamped tightly together, and he barrels towards euphoria as he thinks about just how wet he knows you are, his dirty little girl.

“Fuck, baby—fuck. Hold on, hold on.” He pulls your head back, cock slick and glossy, covered in your spit. He’s going to finish just like this if he’s not careful. “Gonna be over too soon if you keep that up.”

“Please, Joel,” you say. “I want to taste it. It’s all I want. Let me make you feel good.”

Joel thinks Michaelangelo never would’ve sculpted David, had his existence overlapped with yours. Because in all the time of the universe, a sight has never lived as beautiful as the one of you begging on your knees before him.

What kind of man would he be if he refused? Joel wants to give you everything you could ever ask for. Wants to give you the world at whatever cost to his soul.

So, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your bruised lips around his cock again. You feel like heaven, or as close to it as he’ll ever be allowed.

He comes at the back of your throat with a groan and trembling hands in your hair. Hands that are all too aware that they hold something holy, something divine. “ Goddamn —fuck. Mm, yeah. There you go, baby. There you go.”

His cock throbs in your mouth, and you don’t stop sucking until he’s completely spent. And when you do finally lean back and stick out your tongue, he’s nearly hard again at the obscene way his come drips down your lips, down your chin. 

Then you swallow, and Joel grins and rests his palm gently on your cheek. He uses the rough pad of his thumb to push the last few drops back into your mouth, and you suck it down greedily. “Gotta take it all, little girl. Make me proud, hm?”

And as soon as you’re satisfied, Joel’s pulling you back to your feet and pressing his mouth to yours in a ravenous kiss. He can taste remnants of himself on you, and it’s the most comforting sensation he’s ever experienced. It’s proof of your union, evidence of your devotion. A physical, tangible way to convince him he’s not alone in his sacrilege.

Joel lifts you off your feet, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He carries you to the altar table, lays you down, and pushes your knees apart. Normally, he likes to take his time with you. Likes to savor the way you taste, the way you feel. But he’s so hungry for you and you only that he cannot— cannot wait another fucking second.

But then you say his name and his every intention freezes. “You don’t have to,” you say, and it confuses him. You attempt an explanation. “I don’t want you to feel like you always have to make me finish, too. I just…I didn’t do it expecting anything in return. I want you to know that.”

You sound so sincere, so… benevolent. A far cry from the bratty little girl he first met. He presses a kiss to your temple and says quietly, “I’d never let my little girl go without. Not the kinda man I am, baby.”

He might be too old to go rounds with you, but he knows how to make you feel good. He’s real good at it, in fact.

Joel leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your clit, right over your panties. He delights in the way it makes you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the sounds you make when he pulls the fabric to the side and slides his tongue through your wet warmth. 

He presses your legs back, opens you further, and laps at your pussy like a man starved for you because he is. You taste like redemption, like home.

Your hands weave into his hair, tugging lightly, and Joel moans when you press his face against your pussy like he just can’t get close enough. He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks hard, tongue rolling over it softly. 

“Fuck, that feels so good, Joel— God —”

A groan escapes him, lips vibrating with the sound of it. His cock begins to harden again, hanging heavy between his legs. He’s insatiable for you; returned to the needy, desperate stage of his masculinity he once thought he’d grown out of.

Joel quickens the movement of his tongue and slips a finger inside of you. Your back arches off the altar table and your hips grind against his face, smearing your slick down his chin, over his lips.

He hooks his finger inside of you and strokes the spot that makes you writhe. You look so beautiful he thinks you must be some divine being. It’s the only thing that makes sense in his head. 

Your legs begin to tremble around his shoulders and that’s when he decides to pull away. Because he wants you to cum for him, wants to be the reason you shiver and shake—but he wants to feel it. 

In one smooth movement, he pulls you to the edge of the altar table and sinks his cock into you deep.

“Oh my God,” you whimper. “Fuck, fuck, Joel, I’m gonna—!”

“Wait,” he says, stilling the instinctual rocking of his hips. You’re so tight, so smooth and wet as your pussy flutters around his cock. He pushes into you to the hilt but doesn’t move, doesn’t give you the satisfaction. He moves his hands to your lower belly, applying just a little bit of pressure. He can feel himself inside you, can feel just how full of him you are. “Want you to cum with me, little girl,” he says. “Can you do that for me? Hm?”

Slowly, experimentally, he shifts his hips the smallest bit, thrusting into you and laughing maliciously at the way you squeeze your eyes shut and whine for more. “I can—can try,” you stammer. “But it feels so —”

“Shh, I know baby,” he says, thrusting into you again, a little harder this time. It feels euphoric, indulging himself in you in a place of worship. He can feel faith in the air like magic, faith in you, in himself, in the love you share.

He moves again, fucking you slow and deep. If it weren’t for the way you make him feel, he thinks he might last a little longer. But the taste of ambrosia lingers on his tongue and he can see the pulsing of your clit and feel the tension in your muscles created from holding yourself back from the edge of pleasure.

Pride swells in his chest. His perfect girl, doing everything he asks, doing anything to please him. It makes him feel holy, like maybe the only godly presence in the room is him.

This is what you’ve done to him. You’ve taken this shell of a man and turned him seraphic, turned him sacred through your worship. Emotion builds in his throat when he thinks of it, when he realizes just how lucky he is to exist in this same universe as you, in the same lifetime. 

He kisses you deep and fucks you even deeper.

“Joel,” you pant, fingernails digging into the side of the altar table. The aged satin cloth has been wrinkled beneath your weight, hanging slightly askew off the edge. “Please, please, I can’t—!”

Warmth pools low in his belly. You sound so pretty when you beg. He presses one hand harder against your abdomen and uses the other to circle your clit. He can feel his cock move beneath his palm with each thrust and the sensation is the filthiest thing he’s ever experienced.

The pressure builds and builds and builds, and then finally —

“Go ‘head, baby. Cum for me,” he says, thrusting a little faster, rhythm faltering as rapture fills him like sunlight. Your legs tremble around his hips and your moans echo in the church as you find faith, too.

“I love you,” you say, and it feels like redemption. Like the opening of heaven’s gates. 

Like forgiveness.

You come down slowly, and Joel’s completely spent with almost no energy left. Yet still he helps you dress, pulls your sweater back on, and buttons up those too-tight jeans.

You eat together, rationing what little food you have left to try and stretch these precious days out a little longer. You admit around a bite of hard bread that you’re exhausted from the day’s ride and he is, too. And so you work together to stack the pews in front of the church’s double doors, sealing yourself inside but more importantly keeping anything outside from getting in.

There’s a window at the back of the church in a room Joel knows was once used for confessional. He leaves it cracked just enough to hear the horses outside if a commotion is caused. And then he holds you in his arms and sleeps. 

It’s the best sleep Joel’s gotten in twenty-five years, the sound of your voice echoing even in his dreams. 

But halfway through the night, the sound of whinnying and rambunctious laughter can be heard, jarring you both awake. 

You’re out of his arms and at the back of the church before Joel’s finished blinking his eyes open. 

He stands to his feet, heart racing behind his ribcage. 

Men’s voices, but far away. Several of them. 

He watches you move quickly through the church to the window at the front, watches you carefully peak through the dirty glass pane. 

Joel saddles up behind you and has never been more thankful that you skipped the warmth of a fire. Because fifteen yards away, there’s a group of men passing through. Some on horses, others walking casually beside them. They’re not subtle about their presence. 

Maybe they don’t think anyone’s around. And on any normal day, they would be right. Except this day, Joel’s here. You’re here.

He picks up his rifle from the makeshift bed the two of you created hours ago. 

You don’t move. You stay focused, transfixed as if you’re trying to see the minute details of their faces from this far away. You wipe the glass with the ivory sleeve of your sweater and it comes away grimy, covered in dust.

Joel knows there’s something you’re not telling him. Can feel the tension, electric and tight in the air, skin crawling with it. Your eyes are narrowed, focused on the sound of rambunctious laughter coming from the small group of men. 

And then your spine straightens and all concern bleeds from your face, replaced in an instant with rage. Red, murderous rage. Joel thinks he’s only seen that sort of frenzy in his own reflection. Now it stares back at him, mirrored and bloodthirsty. “What is it?”

You don’t answer. The scrape of your knife against its sheath at your thigh strikes a terror in him he hasn’t felt in years. His stomach turns uncomfortably because Joel knows, he knows something isn’t right. Something is going to go wrong. He can feel it in his marrow. 

“Stop,” he says. “Talk to me.”

It’s like his words don’t even register. You say nothing as you pull at the pews stacked in front of the doors. They scrape noisily against the hardwood floor, and Joel tries to find something to stop you, to get through to you—but that knife is still clutched in your blanched fist and he knows in your rage you’ll swing at him all the same.

“There are eight of them and two of us,” he tries to reason. “We have no ammunition, no bullets, no arrows. We have to let them—”

“Go?” You turn your frenzied eyes on him. “What’s now eight used to be twenty,” you say. “I won’t let them get away this time.”

“Then we plan for it,” he says, holding out a hand and taking a tentative step toward you. It doesn’t matter to him what your reasoning may be. Joel knows that sort of wrath, knows he’ll never change your mind. And he knows following you down this path of slaughter is bound to bloody his hands further, to taint his soul this time beyond repair. 

But he made a promise to you. Nothing in this world will you ever face alone. 

The problem is that Joel knows neither of you will make it out alive. Not in this. You got lucky back in Casper, and he’s got the knowledge and experience with age to know you won’t get lucky twice.

He can’t let you do this. 

“They won’t get far, okay? Not in an area like this. We go home— tomorrow. We ride to Jackson and we’ll get there in a day if we don't stop. And then we’ll come back for them, alright? We’ll stock up and track them down. I swear to you—”

“You don’t know,” you say, voice shaking. “You don’t know what they did—!”

“So tell me. Tell me everything. Give me the knife.” He reaches for it slowly, carefully. You eye him like he might grow claws and an extra head if you look away for an instant.

You don’t trust him, Joel realizes. Not at this moment, not with this. “Joel,” you say in warning. “Don’t.”

He wonders what’s led you here. Wonders about who’s distrusting hands you once placed your justice in. 

The answer comes to him the moment the question crosses his mind. 

“I’m not like her,” he says. “Look at me, baby girl. Look at me .”

You do. And though that frenzied look lingers in your eyes, something in you softens and he’s grateful for it.

“I’m not Maria. You understand me? When I make you a promise, I mean it. I will kill them. All of them. But we have to be smart about this. We have to do it right. Yeah?” He reaches out again. “Give me the knife.”

You angle it higher, just out of his reach. For a second Joel thinks all progress has been lost because he moved too quickly, too carelessly. But then you say, “Swear it to me. Swear on her life that you won't make me let them go.”

On her life. 

Not her death, but her life. A promise of certainty. An unbreakable oath. Because if he fails, if he shatters this trust, Sarah’s life means nothing.

Joel’s lungs ache. Everything hurts and his skin feels like it’s on fire because no one has ever seen him like this. No one has known exactly what to say, exactly which bruises to press. 

He nods slowly. “Okay,” he relents. “I swear on her life that we will find them.”

Carefully, you hand him the blade, and as if giving it away had flipped a switch, you deflate.

Joel slides your knife into the side of his boot when you turn away from him and go back to the window. 

He stands beside you, a looming presence at your back. Even though he wants answers, he doesn’t want to pry them out of you. And your silence allows him the space for his mind to wander into unspeakable places. Joel has seen firsthand the depraved, vile things that mankind spirals into beneath the weight of survival. 

For a time, even he had sunk so incredibly low. 

And because he’s seen so much, his brain is filled with gut-wrenching images, theoretical scenes of torture, corruption, and perversion. Each one is more brutal than the last. And in them all, you’re the center of it. 

You watch the group of men through the window until the blue illumination of their flashlights disappears from view. And the moment they do, you’re slipping through the window in the back of the church. 

Joel follows you, a million questions on the tip of his tongue. But he stays silent and does nothing but help you gather debris fallen from the trees in the wooded area behind the church. 

Once, he picks up a curved stick, and as if you’d seen it from the back of your head, you say, “No. Not that one. If they’re too curved, the arrows won’t shoot straight.”

 The two of you gather timber for over an hour. And when his hands are just as full as yours, you return to the church. Joel returns your knife and you attempt to teach him how to shave the stick correctly and to whittle the point of it into a weapon. 

He’s not even half as fast as you are. For every arrow he creates, you produce three. It’s a slow, tedious process, but eventually, you begin to speak. 

“It happened on the last run I did for Maria,” you say, eyes focused on the knife and wood in your hands. “I fell asleep one night. It’d been days since I’d given myself a chance to rest and it had finally caught up to me. I’d barricaded myself in a house and might as well have been dead to the world. Two of them found me. Didn’t wake me, didn’t try to kill me or anything. They just took my bow and my pack. My pack that was mostly empty, had nothing in it but a twelve gauge with two bullets, some cans of food, water, and those stale fucking barbecue chips.”

You shake your head dismally. 

“Should’ve fuckin left it. But I…I was afraid. If I came back to Jackson without the one thing she asked for, what use was I? What kept me there?”

It pains him to hear you say it. He wants to tell you you’re wrong, that despite what Maria has made you believe, your worth is not tied to what you can do for her. But he doesn’t. Joel just lets you talk. 

“I tracked them to a warehouse a few miles outside of Boise. Watched them for a while, memorized all the entrances, the windows. Even memorized their faces. They had two people on watch in rotating shifts. I didn’t want to kill them, considering they didn’t try to kill me. But I wanted my pack, and so I waited until four of them were talking during a shift change and slipped inside through the back.”

Your eyes darken, and Joel fears what you may say next.

“Didn’t go as planned. One of them saw me. Outed me immediately, of course. And I thought they’d kill me. Shoot me or something. But that didn’t go as planned, either. The leader was called Gabriel.”

Your hands around the arrow still and your eyes grow misty. You’re reliving it, as clearly as if it were happening now.

“He, uhm…held me down. Suggested the rest of them take turns with me.” 

Joel feels something inside him shift. Feels a decision being made, feels murder begin to drip down his fingertips like water.

“They’d already had my shotgun and took the pistol I had tucked in the back of my jeans the second they ripped them off. I thought…I thought it was the end for me. Because even if I survived it, even if I made it through all twenty of them…I might as well have been dead anyway.”

He understands now, Joel realizes. Understands why you were so infuriated about a run for a pregnancy craving when the price was this. His mouth runs dry.

Your words echo in the dark church. “Had my knife tucked up the sleeve of my jacket, though.” A small smile graces your face as you turn the blade over in your fingers admiringly. “Was able to stop Gabriel before he got any further. They were…stupid. Arrogant. Came at me one by one because why would you need more than that to fight a little girl with nothing but a knife ?”

Now there are only eight of them. The main perpetrator perished, his blood stained so deeply into your jacket that when you’d returned to Jackson they’d had to burn it. No salvaging anything from your destruction. 

Nothing but this vengeance, this promise to yourself to right those who wronged you.  He forced you to break it for your own safety. And though a surge of regret and sorrow trickles into his psyche, he knows there’s still an unbroken vow remaining. 

The promise Joel made to you. 

“Some of them ran. I tried to track them but after a few days, I just…I needed sleep. I wanted to go home.” You go black to fletching your arrow, whittling the end into a sharp point. “I’ll find them one day. Then it’ll be me taking turns with them .”

You don’t say much else for the next two hours. And he doesn’t, either. He helps you sharpen the timber into arrows and when you yawn three times in less than five minutes, he gives you his flannel and lets you lay your head in his lap. 

Joel smooths the tangles in your hair as you sleep. And when you begin to softly snore, he carefully shifts your head onto your sleeping bag and tucks the strap of his rifle beneath your arm.

When he slips out of the window in the back of the church, he latches it shut.  He decides against taking a horse, worried it’d create too much commotion. 

But he does take your serrated sawback knife, telling himself it’s poetic justice. 

They’re only two miles away, stashed in a rundown grocery store that’s been picked over one too many times. Two men sit outside the door. Old habits die hard, Joel thinks. 

One has his head tilted back against the stone wall, sleeping with an ease he doesn’t deserve.

Joel takes out the other one first. And he does it quicker than he’d like. He creeps up behind him silently, wraps one hand around his throat, and uses the other to cover his mouth. The snap of his spine reverberates through Joel’s hands, tingling from his palms down to his elbows. 

The other wakes with the commotion but doesn’t even have the chance to scream before your knife is lodged in his neck so deep the sharp point sticks out of the other end. 

Inside, the other six all rest as well. Joel wonders how they can do so peacefully, knowing they’ve given an innocent little girl fuel for her nightmares. A girl who’s lost enough, who’s sacrificed enough, more than anyone should—only to lose a piece of herself at their greedy hands.

He makes quick work of them. Even delights in the way life leaves their eyes. One by one, Joel uses your knife to slit each and every one of their throats. 

By the time he’s finished, his hands are caked in blood, splatters staining the sleeves of his heavy, canvas coat, and all that’s left of the men who hurt you are eight corpses.

You’re still sleeping when he slips back through the window of the church. It’s a little ironic, he thinks, to return here to this holy place with an angel inside, all while covered in the stink of death.

Joel sits beside you, back pressed against a pew. His hands rest on his knees, blood still drying beneath his fingernails. He watches you sleep and thinks his damnation is worth it if this brings you a sense of safety. 

Though he tries not to, Joel thinks an awful lot about Sarah. Thinks about how he failed her, how just a little more brutality could have saved her.

He’s spent years regretting that night, regretting holding on to the shred of humanity he had left when he should have been holding onto her. He makes a promise not to repeat the same bad habits. Makes a promise he’ll never let his naive desire for respite get in the way of his need to protect you, to keep you safe. He’s breaking the habit, the same as he did with Ellie, because Joel doesn’t think he'll ever survive a loss of such magnitude again.

It doesn’t matter what he has to become to keep you safe. Doesn’t matter the cost to his soul.

Your face looks peaceful but your fists are coiled tight beneath your head. As if even in your sleep you’re fighting something, always on the defense. He wonders if it’s a trait you inherited before or after those men, before or after your sister's death, before or after the accusatory way the inhabitants of Jackson look at you.

Joel feels something heavy rise up in him. Something akin to sorrow or grief. This deep, pensive heartache because it’s just not fair. You’re so young, so innocent, dealing with the same demons he still fights and sometimes loses to at age fifty-two. 

He doesn’t want this for you. Doesn’t want you to become volatile, murderous, monstrous in the ways he has. Joel spent so much time pushing you away and he thinks maybe it’s because there’s so much of his anger mirrored in you. That staring it in the face felt too harrowing, too raw. 

The longer he thinks about it the more pieces slot together in his brain. Your cruel words hurled at anyone who sets you on edge. Your inability to follow any direction that isn’t forced. The self-isolation, the distrust in even those you love most. That animalistic fight in you, flight and freeze be damned. The need to protect others before yourself—Joel, Ellie, Miley, even Maria.

You don’t deserve to live like this. Don't deserve eternal damnation or to experience the wrath of God for the monstrous things you result to when you feel all else is lost. Violence is the only thing that has never turned its back on you.

Joel’s melancholy manifests, a single tear sliding down his cheek. You’re just a little girl and it's not fucking fair. 

He doesn’t want this for you. He wants you to live a full, happy, peaceful life. Not one spent out here chasing ghosts, trying to find your worth in providing for others. He wants you to be protected, to know you’re loved even when you lash out, wants you to know that he understands. Joel wants to be that for you. Wants to be the unwavering support you deserve, wants to be the thing that pulls you back from that ledge you’re dancing upon. Joel wants to be for you what he needed in the darkest part of his rage.

But to do that, you’re going to have to relinquish a little more of that control you hold so tightly.

When you wake, it’s gradual. You don’t startle or flinch at the blood on his hands. But your eyes linger there on the red stain for some time before you ask, “All of them?”

Joel nods once. “All of them.” 

And then you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him, pressing your mouth to his, thanking him in the only way you know how. Your tongue tastes like sleep and ambrosia and sunlight, but when Joel cradles your face in his hands he leaves blood in the wake of his fingertips. The bright red is a stark contrast against the smoothness of your skin, the violence an antithesis to your innocence.

He slides his bloody hands into your hair when your hips begin to move. His cock hardens quickly as his body catches up with your intent, always needy and eager, always just waiting to join you in more than just soul.

While he unbuttons his jeans and slides his zipper down to pull his erection out, your mouth never leaves his. Even when you shove those too-tight jeans down your thighs just enough to make room for him. When you lift up on your knees and sink down onto his cock in one familiarized movement he can feel the vibration of your moan against his tongue, can feel the breath of air from your gasp as he settles in deep.

The stretch is blissfully painful, stinging in all the right ways. You rock your hips slowly at first, adjusting to the sheer size of him, adjusting to his all-encompassing warmth. Your fingers dig into his thick shoulders, desperate to keep your balance.

And then you lift just enough to come slamming back down, the friction setting his skin ablaze. Again, again, again —it’s hurried and needy and depraved. Your hips move fervently over his, seeking out what you know only he can provide.

Your eyes are squeezed shut when you pull your sweet mouth away from his. Joel watches you lean back and place your hands on his thighs for support, back arching, and somehow he finds himself even deeper inside you. You’re moaning and his breath is coming fast and he thinks you look more than just angelic from this angle. He watches you ride his cock and wonders if you were fucking made to do this. 

Cheeks flushed, lips parted, his name on your lips. Is this what Eve saw in the waxy reflection of the forbidden fruit? Is this what she saw when she knowingly abandoned paradise? 

Joel thinks it can’t get much better than this. Thinks the only thing that’s ever come close is the feeling of blood on his hands in the name of those he loves, in the name of you.

He wraps his hand around your throat, staining you even further red, and says, “I’d do anything for you. Anything .” 

He thinks about the Ten Commandments, about how he can cross off every single one of them with just this act alone. 

You shall have no other Gods before me. 

No divine being has made him feel like this. No divinity has ever reached up through his ribs and squeezed a fist around his heart. Not like you have. 

You shall make no idols. 

He thinks about the way you look in his canvas coat. Joel has found his own form of peace through you, has found forgiveness beneath your tongue. 

You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain. 

Your pace quickens. The obscene, wet sounds coming from the place you’re joined echo in the walls of the church. “Oh my God, Joel, I’m—I’m close.”

He knows you are. Can feel it in the way your pussy squeezes him like a vise, in the way your rhythm becomes sloppy and desperate.

Keep the Sabbath day holy. 

Joel doesn’t know what day it is. But he knows he wishes he could stay here in this home you’ve made together within the bones of an old religion, wishes he could stay inside you. He doesn’t know if there’s anything more unholy than this insatiable desire.

Honor your father and mother.

He thinks about that day in the dining hall when embarrassment climbed Maria’s cheeks as you screamed in her face. Joel thinks she deserved it more than he realized that day. He thinks about the way you spoke to him in that watchtower, thinks about the way he’d had to drag you there by your hair, all while listening to every disrespectful thing that came out of your mouth and how a few short weeks later you got down on your knees and called him daddy. 

You shall not murder. 

He takes the hand wrapped around your throat and flattens it against your sternum. The blood is drying but still marks your skin in the shape of his fingerprints.

You shall not commit adultery.

Joel knows he’s supposed to be with a lovely, soft-spoken, age-appropriate woman but knows, too, that death would be kinder than the loss of you. 

You shall not steal. 

He was angry at first, about the strawberry scone. Mike’s wife is a kind woman who spends her time baking for the community. But Ellie likely never would’ve had the opportunity to try it had you not nicked the pastry. If it was always going to lead the two of you here, together, Joel would have stolen every last scone on God’s green earth. 

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. 

Lying seems a small price to pay for you, for your safety. He remembers telling Greg and Bonnie that you were running late the night you left him in the watchtower alone. He wanted to keep you safe then even without noticing that’s what he was doing. Safe from ridicule, from judgment. 

You shall not covet. 

He recalls seeing Abel’s hands on you, seeing his lips against your hair in a chaste kiss. Joel had wanted to kill him then, for touching what was his. He knows by taking you for his own, he’s taking you away from someone like Abel. Someone with a little more moral in their heart, a little less blood on their hands. But he doesn’t care because you’re his now and always. 

Joel lifts his hips in tandem with yours, meeting each stroke, thrusting his cock even deeper inside you. Your legs begin to shake around his and Joel thinks damnation isn’t so bad. “Anything,” he repeats. “Lie, cheat, steal.” His hand on your chest slides up again, wrapping tight around your throat. “I’d kill for you, little girl.”

Your pussy flutters around him and your spine bends in the most beautiful arch he’s ever seen. It solidifies his belief in one very important thing, the last nail in the coffin that cements the two of you together eternally.

This filthy, sinful devotion is cosmic. Celestial. Unearthly. So much more than a bible and cross. 

It’s worth it. It’s worth everything. 

“You like that? Hm?” Your rhythm falters but his remains steady. “Like that I’d spill blood for you, s’that it? That’s what got you all wet, sweetheart?” Your moans turn saccharine— sacrilegious. “Pretty pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, baby. Such a messy thing. I’d kill anyone for my little girl. Anyone .”

“Joel, I—!” 

He knows, he knows. Because he is, too. “Yeah, thaaaat’s it,” he says, drawing out each syllable. Your hands squeeze hard around his thighs and your muscles draw tight. “There you go, baby. Cum for me. That’s it. Sweet fuckin’ girl. Gonna fill you up. That what you want?”

You rasp out his name and the words yes, please, please, and it sounds like a fucking prayer. It’s a hypnotic litany. It makes him feel cherished, adored. And the sound of it spoken in worship in the house of God sends him over the edge. 

Even though your legs tremble around his, you ride his cock relentlessly. Joel’s vision goes white and his hand on your hip squeezes tight enough to bruise. You feel so good, so warm and wet. You lift your hips and slam them back down until the oversensitivity becomes more than he can bear. His hand abandons the home it’s made around your throat and finds the small of your back instead, stilling you completely.

You lean forward, collapsing with your hands pressed against his chest. Joel wraps his arms around your middle and cradles you in his lap, all too aware of the divinity he holds in his hands. He presses a kiss to your temple and listens to your heavy breaths.

Some time passes. He’s not sure how long the two of you sit there with Joel still wedged deep inside you, basking in the afterglow. The sun rises outside and the songbirds of the morning begin to sing. 

Eventually, you lift your head and whisper, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Joel doesn’t understand. He’s stolen something he was undeserving of, only to be loved back. If anyone should be thankful, it should be him. 

It feels like a punch to the gut when you say, “For seeing me.”

Because he now knows no one else ever has. No one has ever seen your defiance as anything but a nuisance, has never seen you as more than a troublemaker, as a bad omen.  

But Joel does see you. He sees right through all that savage fight to the little girl beneath, that soft, childish innocence you keep under heavy guard. He thinks he’s been able to see through it since the first moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s her he wants to protect.

Joel takes your chin in his hand and makes you a commandment of his own. “I will always see you.”

[part seven] [part nine]

taglist; @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @elliesr1fle @pascaltesfaye

let me know if you want to be added! thank you to everyone for all the insane support on this <3

[masterist]

[wutheringcaterpillar]

one shot request about the Tommy head canon where he gets jealous that the reader has imaginary friends? could be technically considered voyeurism because he makes the friends “watch”? thank youuu

Thank you for the request! Had a lot of fun with this one!

Warnings: daddy!kink, voyeurism (kinda), oral (f!receiving), p in v, fingering, pet names, jealous!Tommy, creampie, age gap (not specified)

The long day had come to a hault, Tommy’s mind spinning from all the business and finance bullshit that comes with the job. Now here he was a grown man that people found to be intimidating and powerful sitting on a small white cushioned chair, sipping tea out of a petite porcelain, pink pastel cup with his baby girl sitting across from him with her ribboned pigtails, looking adorable as always.

She was always a fragile, bashful little thing but loved Tommy for whom he was.

His typically frigid, void heart warmed immensely whenever he was in the presence of his little girl. She was his soft spot, and smelt of daydreams and berries, completely enchanting and he would go to the end of the earth to protect you from any harm.

Folding your legs, flashing your baby blue knee socks, a sliver of your thigh was exposed, causing Tommy to shift in his seat, readjusting himself.

“How was your day my love?” His large, older calloused hand brushed over yours, squeezing it gently and caringly.

“Missed you, I’ve been stuck with Alfred all day, the rest of my friends left to go color without me. He says he thinks I have a pretty smile, and that I’m far too cute be coloring alone.”

Tommy’s top lip quirked up, slightly annoyed by Alfred’s confidence of saying such an inappropriate compliment to his girl. Glancing at the empty chair, Tommy set the cup down onto it’s plastic decorated plate, raising his eyebrows with a fierce hint of jealousy glowing in his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Is that so Alfred, eh?” 

Standing up and removing his jacket, the heat built in between your thighs, warming your insides when he revealed revealed his long white shirt and blazer with the dazzling gold chain wrapped subtly around his bicep.

Kicking the chair to face the bed, you fiddled with your thumbs anxiously, knowing what this would lead to.

Lifting you up from small pink seat, you gasped when his hands latched beneath your delicate thighs and carried you over to the bed, plopping you down making your small butt bounce on the mattress. 

“I think Alfred needs to learn his place, don’t you darling?” Biting down on your bottom lip, you nodded as Tommy swung open your legs effortlessly, revealing the visible wet spot, painting your pink frilled panties.

Your cheeks burned a rosy shade of pink, gasping when you heard the sound of your panties ripping in half followed by the smooth exterior of his tongue lapping, delectably between your soaked folds.

Smooching seductive kisses into your desperate mound.

His sapphire eyes glanced up, connecting with yours. Seeing your chest rising and falling slowly, lips parted in pure ecstasy always sent shivers up your spine, you were wonderous, perfect in every way.

His digits skimmed at the your tight slippery opening, breathing in the fumes of your freshly shaved, showered heat. The tips of his fingers entering and exiting you playfully.

His princess was always so impatient, so desperate for his cock when they were alone.

 “Daddy, please…More.” You whined, fists curling in the sheets while his plump, velvet lips sucked at your throbbing clit, one finger pumping in and out of your warmth.

Smirking, he stood back up, flipping you over onto your tummy before you heard the movement of his zipper, feeling his cock pop out slapping against your inner thigh spontaneously.

Pulling your tender cheeks apart he examined how your sweet slick was dripping from your antsy cunt, making a wet spot form on the bed.

“Eh, see that Alfred? Something you’re never gonna get. My pretty pussy, isn’t that right sweetheart?” 

“Yes, yes! All yours, only yours daddy!” Hearing the excitement, and the overwhelming tone of desperation was like music to Tommy’s ears. His precious little baby.

Lining his cock up, you felt the large tip swipe over your gaping hole with precum, causing your body to grind down, needing him to stuff you full and fuck you hard.

“Patience, princess.” His hand combed through the strands of your hair, pulling your head back by the baby blue bows of your pigtails, causing you to release a loud, lustful whine.

Planting a passionate kiss to your neck, making you moan in pleasure, he dipped his cock in. The sudden feeling of being so full nearly taking the breath out of your little lungs.

“Dadddyyyy….” Such a beautiful serenade your voice was. He started at a slow pace wanting to take his time with his princess. The soft fabric of your knee socks grazed against his thighs, making Tommy all the more eager to pick up the pace, but he wanted to see his baby girl ride him, wanted to see a full view of your pussy devouring his cock so well.

“Bounce back baby. Wanna see that little ass clap against me.” He striked your bare cheek, a bright red handprint forming immediately, marking his territory

Without needing any guidance, your hips rolled back, the head of his thick shaft stuffing your little pussy full without any shame.

Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the fluffy bedding, focusing on the sound of his deep, growling moans. Feeling the way his hands grazed seductively down your thighs, stopping at the fabric of your knee socks and picking you up slightly so he could slide in deeper, able to hit your cervix.

“Fuck! Daddy! Fe-feels so good mm..” Your words faltered from the enthralling, profound feeling of pleasure.

He fucked into his tight cunt, craving to please his baby girl and hear her screams, the screams he caused.

Turning your head, he forced you to look at the chair your friend sat in as he slammed into you relentlessly. Your tits bouncing against the soft padding of the mattress while you released whimsical, high pitched moans.

“Bet Alfred can’t make you feel this good can he sweetheart?” The thick shaft of his cock was overwhelmingly pleasurable, sliding in and out between your tight wet folds delectably. Your teeth bit down onto the plump bottom of your lip as he drilled into your tight cunt.

His balls slapped against your bare sex, when in one powerful thrust, waves of pleasure were building up your spine, making you whine out in ecstasy.

“Mm- ungh, no, no. Just you daddy!” Tears sprang at the brim of your eyelids from the overstimulation and the stuffed feeling of his cock throbbing in your cunt.

“Daddy, I-I’m going to cum, ca-can I-fuck! Can I please cum!” Tommy would always allow his darling dove to cum first as a gentleman should, you’ve earned it.

“Go on love, release.” The sizzling, euphoric sensation took over every detrimental part of your body. The rising pleasure settling like a pit of fiery, building euphoria as your aching walls squeezed his long, thick cock. Your flood gates budding open like a watered flower, oozing out onto Tommy’s shaft, your sweet nectar coating his unshaved mound white.

“I’m cumming, I-oh daddyy! Ohhh….” Tommy was seconds behind you, collapsing onto your back as he arched, bottoming out in you filling his little princess with his swimming seeds, releasing an exasperated, deep, groan, moaning out “Oh Baby..” In the process.

He lay there for a moment before pulling out and seeing his cream pie gushing out of your overstimulated cunt. Such a breathtaking sight.

Taking a seat on the bed beside you, when you goanced over at him he could see the tears from your dreary, tired eyes. Beads of sweat forming by your now messy hair.

“My little cry baby aren’t yuh, eh?” Tommy pulled you closer, his large calloused hands hovering over the little goosebumps on the smoothe skin of your arms, holding you warmly and close feeling your little heart thumping rapidly against him.

“I brought a gift along with me since you’re always such a good girl.” Your eyebrows suddenly perked up, wanting to lean over the bed and see but he stopped you. Patience and surprise being a thing he was still working on with you. Always such a eager girl you were.

Pulling out a stuffed pink rabbit, Tommy’s heart melted when he heard your little gasp of surprise. Instantly you grabbed hold of the fluffy stuffed toy, hugging it whole heartedly and adoringly.

“Oh daddy, I love it! I love you! How did you know?” Tommy wasn’t oblivious, he always paid close attention to things you stared at longingly out in public through store windows and that had been what you were eyeing for weeks now.

Shrugging, he walked over to your closet, picking out a frilly short, flowered dress that he hadn’t seen you in yet and tossed it on the bed along with a pair of white shoes.

“I love you more sweetheart. I know with work being busy we haven’t had many date nights and I insist on treating my princess to a night out.” A wide smiled spread across. Feeong from the bed you ran up to Tommy and he caught you in his arms, placing a giddy kiss to your delicate, inviting lips.

Upon getting ready, Tommy watched you adoringly in that short little dress twirl happily, and cutely in the mirror, grabbing the new bag he had bought you just last week.

“I think you scared Alfred away for good daddy. I hope you know I’ll only ever have eyes for my protector, my love.”

“Yeah fuck you Alfred.” Kicking the chair over, Tommy pulled you close to his side before spitting at the floor, making Alfred learn his place. Rendering the boy speechless as you watched him run out the door completely scarred making you giggle.

“What do you think love? Ready for dinner at the chateau?” You nodded gleefully, holding onto the older man’s arm in deep devotion as he guided you out to the car, ready to enjoy the rest of the night with his baby girl.

[ohithankyou]

you know when buck and tommy had that moment on the ship at the end of 703, i didn’t anticipate their story leading to where it did. i definitely felt something may happened—buck may develop a crush on this guy, maybe they’d have a moment, maybe they’d kiss, buck would have his bi-awakening but i didn’t expect or anticipate it growing into anything bigger or even moving forward the way that it did and with the intensity that it did. not because i didn’t see the potential, but because i didn’t think they’d go down the route of exploring a full-fledged relationship with them. for one, i didn’t expect their first kiss to be so jam packed with emotion and vulnerability. i didn’t expect tommy to ask buck out on a date immediately after the kiss.

i didn’t expect buck to talk about tommy with both maddie and eddie after the failed date—not only talk but gush about tommy with heart eyes galore. and while there was a part of me that expected buck to ask tommy for a second chance after the date mishap—in no way shape or form did i think he’d so earnestly invite tommy to his sister’s wedding. and i sure as hell didn’t anticipate tommy not only coming to the bachelor party on call, but the both of them being so familiar and comfortable with one another during the bachelor party, so soon into their relationship—but they were. and i know we all had our theories about tommy being the one who would save chim and that’s how he’d end up at the wedding and this sounded so great to us—but really, what we got in canon with that romantic-ass grand gesture tommy pulled for buck was infinitely better than anything we theorised in my opinion.

and it didn’t stop there. because then we got everyone close to buck being so happy for the both of them of them and we got bobby—buck’s father figure and someone buck’s always trusted re: his relationships—giving buck his “stamp of approval” on tommy—and recognising essentially how happy buck looked. and and and, we got the beloved, iconic, show stopping, jaw dropping, chaos-creating, relationship-defining—dinner scene. we were all prepared for it to be interrupted by something, someone, anything, anyone and then it wasn’t.

not only was it not interrupted but what we got was buck going home to tommy after a long and hard day. tommy asking him how he was. them sharing more personal traumas with each other. them laughing together. them getting flirty with each other. we even got confirmation on evan buckley’s daddy kink. simply—it was them being boyfriends. it was beautiful and it was beyond my wildest imaginations in the best way possible. genuinely. every single moment after that shoulder touch surprised me in the best way, making me fall more and more in love with buck and tommy as a pairing and their growing love for even other. and no matter what happens moving forward, i’ll never get over how their story was written and everything that we’ve gotten with them.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: the babysitter | part 2

part 1

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller/babysitter!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 3858

summary:

Joel is ready to move on from last week's....incident.

You're not going to let him off the hook that easy.

author's note: the people have spoken, and they want more joel x babysitter! everyone owes this anon for their original request. thank you all so much for your support on my works and for 600 followers. please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you enjoyed!

you can also buy me a coffee

content warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), pre-outbreak, age difference (21f and 36m), no use of y/n, sarah is younger than canon, joel's guilt about power imbalance dynamics and age gap, major daddy kink, dirty talk, guided masturbation, snooping/perv behavior, mentions of joel being on the atkins diet, begging, praise kink, pet names, orgasm control, unprotected p in v, limited aftercare. let me know if any are missing!

Joel’s palms are sweaty as he checks his watch for the hundredth time. You’re due at his house in five minutes for your scheduled evening of babysitting so that he can go out with his brother, Tommy, and he wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck if not for the fact that the last time you were here, he’d gotten his mouth on your delicious cunt and the taste of you is the only thing he’s had on his mind for the past six days.

He tries to block out the vision you’d made, writhing around on his tongue and fingers, hips flexing against his face as you try to keep quiet, but it’s a fruitless effort. And when he catches himself thinking about you, the guilt rolls through him in equal measure. You’re young, too young, and Sarah’s babysitter. His daughter adores you and would be devastated if he had to replace you because he can’t keep his fucking dick under control.

Which is why he’s so nervous tonight. He needs to be the adult in this scenario and put his foot down. What happened was a mistake and he would very much like to move past it, so long as you’re comfortable with that. If you don’t want to babysit Sarah anymore, he’ll just have to grin and bear it.

A knock at the door interrupts his nervous pacing. Sarah flies down the stairs in a flurry of curly hair and gangly adolescent limbs, opening the door and immediately wrapping her arms around you. You hug the girl back, smoothing her hair and smiling down at her as she launches into a retelling of her past week away from you. Your undivided attention to his daughter and your kind, patient smile as you listen to her story make his heart clench in his chest.

Finally, you look up at Joel, giving him a sweet little smile of his own. He swallows nervously.

“Sarah, could you head upstairs and give us a sec to talk?” He asks his daughter. She pouts, grumbling about wanting to play Jenga, but does as she’s asked. You look at Joel expectantly.

“Listen, I just…wanted to apologize for last week,” he starts, running a hand through his hair nervously. “What I did was extremely inappropriate. And if you don’t want to babysit Sarah anymore–”

“Woah, hey. Everything’s totally fine, Mr. Miller,” you say, cutting him off. 

He lets out a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent,” you reply. You place a hand on his shoulder and he can feel the heat of it through the cotton like a brand. He feels stuck in place as you squeeze gently, before letting your hand slide down his arm as you remove it. “I’m absolutely sure.”

You wink at him before taking a step back and head in the direction of Sarah’s room without looking back at him.

Shit.

______

You’re playing Jenga with Sarah, as promised when Joel pops his head into her room to say goodbye to his daughter. The young girl squeezes him tightly around his middle, looking up at him with all the love in her eyes. Your smile is soft as you watch the pair.

You’ve been Sarah’s babysitter for three years now, since she was three years old and Joel reached out to you at the recommendation of his neighbor, your former English teacher in high school. Back then, the stress of navigating the terrible twos and threenager stages of toddlerhood had really been wearing the single father down. Between his hard labor as a contractor and a strong willed daughter, he had been stretching himself thin.

You remember when you first met him. He’d answered the door with his hair still wet from the shower, slicked back from his handsome face. His brown eyes had faint circles beneath them and his smile was tight as he ushered you inside and introduced you to his daughter.

The little girl had acted shy but all it took was telling her your favorite Disney princess for her to emerge from her shell, her little fingers wrapping around yours to lead you to her room to show off her doll collection.

It gives you a quiet sense of satisfaction to look at Joel now and see that the circles of exhaustion have faded and that the tension in his shoulders has eased thanks to the break you afford him. You want to take care of him. To please him.

In more ways than one.

You shake yourself free of your thoughts as Joel turns to say goodbye to you. He lifts his hand in an awkward little wave before heading downstairs. You hear the front door open and shut, breathing a sigh of relief. The Jenga blocks tumble to the floor with Sarah’s next move, drawing you back to the present.

There will be time later to think about Joel. 

You just have to be patient.

________

You quietly shut the door to Sarah’s room before tip-toeing down the hall to the closed door of the master bedroom. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you tentatively turn the knob.

The room is dark, but you can make out the dark shapes of the furniture as your eyes adjust. Your eyes zero in on the large bed in the center of the room, the sheets still rumpled from sleep. Joel Miller doesn’t make his bed in the morning. Your tummy flutters at the idea of knowing this little tidbit about the older man.

With careful steps you make your way to the bedside table, flicking the lamp on. The room illuminates in the warm glow, and you take in the small details that make up the man you’ve had an all-consuming crush on for three years.

The hamper of clothes in the corner and the stray articles of clothing that didn’t make it to their destination littering the floor. His dresser is mostly clear, save for some mail and a bottle of cologne with the top left off. You pick the bottle up, the glass heavy in your hand as you bring it to your face.

It’s citrusy, like fresh oranges, but there’s an underlying spice to it that reminds you of fresh cracked pepper and your favorite bergamot candle. The scent settles over you like a comforting blanket, making a little shiver dance across your spine. You want the scent all around you.

On top of you.

Under you.

You set the bottle back down, moving on in your exploration. The cluttered nightstand calls to you next. 

There’s a stack of three books on the corner. One of them is a business advice book, likely for his endeavor to branch out and form his own contracting business with his brother, Tommy.

Another is a book on the Atkins diet, which makes you frown. Joel has an incredible body, the strength of it earned from hard work and the softness of it earned from a life well lived. Your mind drifts to thoughts of those strong arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him like he can’t bear to let you go. Or wrapped beneath your back as his hips slam against yours, his brow shiny with sweat from his effort.

Fuck.

The third book is a new copy of The Da Vinci Code. You open the hardcover to read the excerpt, only for a piece of paper to flutter to the ground. You bend to pick it up, turning it over in your hand.

It’s a photo of you and Sarah from when you took her to the aquarium on a day when Joel got called into work for an emergency at a job site. You remember Sarah had been bummed that she would miss her dad on a Saturday, one of the only days she got to spend with him since he always works so late. But the aquarium had mermaids and Sarah was obsessed with The Little Mermaid at the time.

The photo in question is of the two of you posed in front of the giant shark tooth display, your arm around Sarah’s shoulders and hers around your waist. The photo is cracked, like it’s been folded a number of times. You trace the faint line that bisects the image between you and Sarah. 

Folding it along the same crease, you’re left with just a photo of you. 

Interesting.

Mr. Miller can’t come home soon enough.

________

Joel’s feeling good as he unlocks his front door. The few drinks he had with his brother have softened the worries that linger in his mind surrounding you. Everything is going to be fine and the two of you can move past this. 

The house is dark when he opens the door, a surprise to him given that you’re usually watching TV in the living room or studying in the kitchen when he comes home. It’s quiet, too. No gentle hum of muffled dialogue from the TV or the soft music that you’ll play.

Joel heads upstairs. He pokes his head into Sarah’s room, her night light revealing a mass of curly hair tucked beneath sheets that she’s pulled up to her chin. There’s no sign of you in her room, either. He closes the door as quietly as he can, the click of the latch ricocheting in the quiet hallway.

He checks the upstairs bathroom, only to find it empty as well. 

Which means there’s only one other place you could be.

His heart rate kicks up as he approaches his bedroom. There’s a faint strip of light at the bottom of the door, like a beacon calling his name. With a deep breath, he turns the knob and steps inside.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” He hisses, shutting the door sharply behind him. 

You look at him through half-lidded eyes, right hand slipped into a pair of lacy white panties, fingers moving in slow circles beneath the fabric. Your hips jerk against your hand, back arching on the bed, his bed, as you let out a quiet whimper. You’ve got one of his shirts on, the fabric rucked up to the middle of your waist, nipples straining with your arousal. 

“Waiting for you to get home, daddy,” you reply, voice high pitched and needy. 

Joel sucks in a sharp breath of air, eyes fluttering as he tries to control himself. “Don’t call me that,” he finally says through gritted teeth. 

You regard him for a moment, and Joel feels like his every thought and emotion is flayed open for your perusal. “Why? Because you don’t like it? Or because you like it too much?” You smirk at him. “I found the picture, daddy. You been lookin’ at me all alone at night?”

Joel’s hands curl into fists at his sides. He stares at you for so long he can feel his eyes burn with the strain of trying not to blink, in case you disappear. He feels like he’s caught at the top of a rollercoaster, the biggest hill possible with the greatest fall on either side.

On the one hand, he could fall into bed with you.

On the other hand, he can fall out of your life.

And the physical pain he feels at that option has him rubbing his chest to soothe the ache.

He takes a cautious step forward. Then another. He sits himself on the corner of the bed as you watch him with wide, expectant eyes.

“Why’d you stop, baby?” He asks, nodding towards your hand. “You sure were feelin’ bold, snoopin’ around my room and gettin’ into my bed, huh?”

“Just wanted to be close to you, daddy,” you tell him. Your fingers start moving again, tentatively, nothing like the rapid rhythm from before.

“You were missin’ me, huh?” He asks, eyes trailing your body. “Lift up that shirt for me.”

You do as you’re told, your gorgeous tits on display for him. He palms his cock, rock hard in the confines of his jeans. 

“I want you to pinch one of those pretty nipples for me,” Joel says. He groans as you follow his instruction, thumb and forefinger grasping the pert nub, twisting as you moan. “That’s it, want you to get them nice and sensitive for me, princess.”

“Now, spread your legs for me,” he continues. “How wet did you get your little pussy before daddy interrupted?” You spread your legs and Joel can barely stop himself from reaching out to run his thumb over the wet spot that’s formed on the gusset. “I asked you a question, darlin’.”

“I-I don’t know,” you murmur. 

“Check for me, will ya? Slip those little fingers down there and show daddy,” he whispers. He can barely recognize his own voice, the deep tenor of it a register he hasn’t heard from himself before. He licks his lips as you slip your hand beneath the elastic, running your fingers through your pussy. He can hear how wet you are, the slick glide of your fingers echoing in his head. “Show me, baby, come on, don’t keep daddy waitin’.”

You withdraw your hand and hold it out for his inspection. The digits glisten with your essence, the earthy scent hitting him like a freight train. Joel groans, head dropping as he fights to keep his composure.

“Take your panties off,” Joel demands. You lift your hips from the mattress, pushing the scrap of lace down your thighs. “Give ‘em to me.”

You drop the garment in his outstretched palm. Joel brings it to his face, taking a deep inhale. The scent of you, the combination of laundry detergent and vanilla and the musk of your wetness left behind in the threads, has him feeling lightheaded with desire. You whine, squirming impatiently.

“Daddy…,” you whimper. “Please touch me.”

“No, sweetheart, I shouldn’t be touchin’ you but this…this is fine, right? This ain’t touchin’,” Joel says, moving himself closer to you. “This doesn’t count.”

“Can I at least see you? Please?” You beg. And god, with your big doe eyes shining up at him like that he’s certain he’d kill a man if you only asked.

Joel stands from the bed, eyes never leaving you as he fights to remove his boots and jeans and shirt. He grabs your panties from where he’d dropped them on the bed in his haste to stand, wrapping them around his palm and taking his cock in hand. He lets out a desperate groan that you echo with your own.

“Put those dirty fuckin’ fingers in your cunt,” Joel growls. You run a finger through your folds before sinking one deep inside yourself. “That’s it, honey, that feels good, right? Giving your pretty little pussy some attention?”

All you can do is nod, mouth open in a silent moan as you work your hand against yourself. “Wish it was you, though, daddy,” you whine, hips flexing as you use your other hand to rub your clit.

“C-can’t, baby,” Joel stutters, hand slowing on his cock to bring him back from the edge. The sudden rush of endorphins makes him lightheaded.

“Please? I’ve been such a good girl,” you say. “Just a little bit, please!”

Joel’s chest heaves with desperate breaths, heart nearly beating from his chest. He can’t do this, he can’t touch you, not again. This is safer, this is a compromise that he’ll just have to live with.

“Just a little?” He finds himself asking. “And then you’ll stop beggin’?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please,” you sob. He plants one knee on the bed, then the other, crawling up the mattress toward your sweet, soft body. He longs to touch you, to run his rough hands across the smooth skin, but he has to draw the line somewhere, even if the line is as permanent as smoke in the wind.

He kneels between your obscenely spread legs, your pussy glistening in the low light and the heat of you so close to where he needs it most he feels his resolve crumbling to dust. He gathers the spit on his tongue and lets it drip onto your mound. Your back arches, the motion dragging the sensitive head of his cock just barely through your wetness.

“Christ, darlin’,” Joel grunts. “I’m not gonna survive you, am I?”

“What a way to go, huh?” You reply with a breathy laugh. Joel smiles down at you, a little grin lighting up your face and he has a flash of a vision of you downstairs in the kitchen, giving him the same smile when he comes home from work. 

Joel shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts before they can embed themselves any deeper. He takes himself in hand, sliding the thick head through your slick before notching himself as your entrance.

Your pussy welcomes him with delicious warmth, the slow glide of his cock through your tight cunt pure torture. Joel keeps his eyes fixed on your face, on the way your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open as you press your head against the mattress. Your body welcomes him, like he’s been the missing piece this whole time.

“Daddy,” you murmur as he bottoms out, the front of his thighs pressed to the back of yours. “You feel so fucking good.”

Joel’s cock twitches inside you, making you cry out loudly. He doesn’t even think before pressing a hand to your mouth, your eyes wide above his palm. 

“Can’t be sayin’ that, baby, I’m tryin’ to keep my promise,” Joel all but begs. His hips flex the smallest bit and he can feel the responding moan from your lips against his palm. “Fuck.”

Joel removes his hand and plants his palms on the mattress on either side of your head. You flex your hips, the movement sliding him in and out and fuck, he can’t take this anymore.

He hopes hell welcomes him with open arms.

Joel slides himself free of your body with a groan, hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he twists your body beneath his. Your ass is in the air, putting your desperate cunt on display, begging to be filled again. 

He shuffles forward, thrusting back inside of you in one sharp movement. He can hear your muffled shouts being absorbed by the mattress as he pounds inside of you.

“This what you wanted? Huh? Wanted daddy to take this sweet little pussy?” He asks through gritted teeth. He groans, a deep rumble in his chest as he withdraws, slow as he can manage, to feel the grip of your walls around his cock. “Ohhhh, f-fuck, baby. You f-feel so goddamn g-good.”

You turn your head, and Joel relishes in how wrecked you look. Your hair is a mess and there are lines across your face, imprints of his sheets from being pressed into the mattress. Your eyes are wide and glassy, pupils blown so black he thinks he’d see the stars in your eyes if he looked long enough.

“D-daddy,” you whine. “Wanna come!”

“N-no, don’t you fuckin’ dare come until I say,” he growls, punctuating the command with a sharp smack of his palm across your ass. “You understand, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you mumble. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good. Fuckin’. Girl,” Joel growls, slamming into you with as much force as he thinks your sweet little body can take. You bury your face against the mattress as you sob, your pussy clenching tightly around him. 

He pulls out again and your body sags to the mattress without his support. He maneuvers your bodies so that you’re facing each other, pulling a leg over his hip so that he can thrust his cock into you once more. 

This position is intimate, your breaths mingling as he flexes his hips against yours. You brush your lips against his and he topples over another cliff, destroying another poorly drawn line as he groans into your mouth, clutching your body desperately to his as your tongues tangle together.

“This pussy,” Joel says, “feels like heaven, sweetheart. Fuck.”

“Please let me come, daddy,” you sob, your damp forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Please, please, please.”

“Just a little longer, baby, I promise, I just wanna feel you,” he murmurs soothingly. “You just feel so good, honey, I can’t let it be over yet.”

You give a sad little whine as you nuzzle against his neck, your lips pressing against his frantic pulse. You bite and lick and kiss at the delicate skin and Joel can’t hold back anymore. He needs to feel you come undone around him.

“A-Alright, baby, I’ll let you come now, okay? Can you do that for daddy? Can you soak his cock so fuckin’ good, huh?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you pant. Each thrust Joel gives is punishing as he grinds himself inside of you. He slips a hand between your bodies to swipe at your clit before capturing your lips with his own to swallow the moan that spills from between them.

Your body goes tight around him, pussy fluttering and squeezing him within an inch of his life. He bites back his own release, desperate to feel you through yours. When your limbs start to go loose, he slips himself free, grinding his cock against your low belly until he comes, hot ropes of his spend marking your skin. 

He holds you as you both catch your breath, the cool air making your sweat slick skin break out in goosebumps that he chases with his fingertips. As the fog of his orgasm recedes from his brain, Joel feels the telltale tendrils of guilt creep in.

“Please, don’t freak out, Joel,” you say with a sigh. You lean back to look him in the eye. “I wanted this.”

“But—“ 

“Nope. Shush. Go get me a washcloth, please?” 

Joel stands on shaky limbs, heading to the bathroom to fulfill your request. When he returns, he smooths the wet cloth first through your sensitive, puffy lips before using it to collect the sticky mess he’d left behind on your skin. You watch him with another little smile, eyes soft and clear in your post-orgasm haze.

“Thanks,” you tell him before sitting up, throwing your legs over the side of the bed and grabbing a discarded t-shirt. You pull your shorts up your thighs, shimmying them into place on your hips. Joel feels his cock give a valiant little twitch at the sight. “Now, walk me out, will you?”

Joel feels like he’s got whiplash, following you out to your car parked in the driveway. He opens your door for you and watches you settle in. When you look up at him, he can’t help but lean forward and press a slow kiss to your lips.

“Drive safe,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. You roll your eyes as you shut the door and start the car.

Joel knocks on the window, a thought having occurred to him. You roll it down and raise your eyebrow at him.

“You left your panties,” he says. 

“Keep ‘em,” you reply, lips tilted in a devilish smirk. “I’ll be back next week.”

Joel Miller taglist: @huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727  @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123on123 @bean-is-readingng @darlingpedrodro @silkiers @pascals-cat

Want more Joel? View the Masterlist

[motherofdogs1010]

Masterlist

I write with chubby-coded/plus sized, racial inclusive readers in mind; very rarely do I mention anything about a reader's physical appearance, all are welcome and are written in mind for everyone to enjoy!!

Must be 18+ to join taglists

I also take frequent mental health breaks since I do suffer from poor mental health, BUT writing is my safe space so I will always come back to you guys ❤️

Key:

💋 18 + Smut

😊 Fluff

💔 Angst

🖤 Dark Storyline

😉 Omegaverse

Laurel Sickness (Sonny Carisi x Reader) 🖤

Summary: Laurel Sickness is an case of extreme case of obsessive love that is sweeping the globe with no explanation. People are becoming just as mad as Apollo once was when he first set his godly eyes on the virgin nymph, Daphne.

Warnings: 18+ only, dark!fic, toxic behavior, gaslighting, dystopian society, dark!Sonny Carisi, stalking, stalker!Sonny Carisi, the world's messed up in this story, age gap relationship, forced relationship, eventual non-con/dub-con, Stockholm Syndrome

Part I Part II TBA

Need to Know (Peter Parker x Reader) 💋

Inspired by Doja Cat's "Need to Know"

Summary: When she was ready to get back out on the dating scene after dumping a certain Winter Soldier, Y/N was a woman ready to get back out there. She just never expected to find herself in a relationship with a certain nerdy spider.

Warnings: older woman/younger man, age gap relationship, heavy smut, drinking, swearing, daddy kink, mentions of cheating, toxic ex behavior, eventual pregnancy

Part I Part II Part III COMING SOON

Please, Please (Peter Parker x Reader) 💋

Re-write of 'Need to Know'

Part I

Little Darling (Thomas Shelby x Reader) 💋

Summary: Birmingham has received a new club, one that is showcasing a exotic type of dance that is drawing in crowds, but it is one particular dancer that catches Thomas Shelby's eye... one that goes by the stage name: Little Darling

Warnings: 18+ only, eventual smut, stripper!reader, mentions of prostitution/sex work, canon Peaky Blinders violence, swearing, drinking

Part I Part II Part III Part IV COMING SOON

Letters to Juliet & Romeo (Thomas Shelby x Reader) 😊💔

Inspired by 'Letters to Juliet' film...

Summary: Heartbroken and in the midst of the Great War as a nurse, Y/N L/N writes to a person she never expected to write to before... her brother's friend, Thomas Shelby... But the war's over now and it is time to face the letters...

Warnings: angst, wartime talk, fluff, reunion, pre-Peaky Blinders Tommy, solider!Tommy, nurse!Reader, chubby!reader, age gap (everyone is of age)

Part I Part II

Of Messiahs and Seeds (Dark!Paul Atreides x Reader) 🖤💋

Summary: Emperor Paul of House Atreides has set forth with expansion of his empire on the planets that have resisted and has now come across the last stronghold that resists him: Terra Millennium...

Warnings: 18+ only, eventual NONCON/DUBCON, eventual forced marriage and pregnancy, violence, language, drinking, chubby!reader, dark!Paul Atreides, spoilers for Dune Part 2

Part I Part II Part III Part IV COMING SOON

A Jedi in Arrakis (Paul Atreides x Reader) 💋💔😊

Summary: While on the run from Empire troops, Jedi padawan Y/N comes to find out that hyper-driving in a compromised craft can have some major setbacks when she discovers not only is on a new planet but a whole new galaxy as well...

Warnings: jedi!reader, eventual 18+, NSFW, angst, fluff, eventual smut/pinv!sex, oral sex, talks of questioning the Force and teachings, spoilers for Dune Part I and II, eventual marriage

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V TBA

Solar Flare (Feyd-Rautha x Reader) 💋

Summary: Chosen as the bride of na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, Y/N finds herself at the hands of the sadistic na-Baron who seems keen on having his bride on their wedding night...

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, arranged marriage, DUBCON/ pinv sex, fingering, loss of virginity, brief knife kink, small breeding kink, crude language, forced arranged marriage

Dividers by @firefly-graphics & me

Banner by @vase-of-lilies

[buddiebeginz]

I was talking to a friend earlier and it got me thinking about something.

B*mmy stans project all of the stuff they do onto us to an extent I've never seen with any other fandom discourse before.

They call us homophobic for not liking B/T or T*mmy. Yet they hate on people for shipping Buddie or seeing Eddie as queer. To the point of harassing people for including Eddie and Buddie in pride posts. Continually harassing the 911news account and even trying to dox a journalist for posting about Buddie.

They call us delusional for having watched two men love and support one another for 6 going on 7 years and for thinking there could be something more than friendship there. Even though Oliver, Ryan, and Tim have all said they see what we see. Yet they've seen Buck kiss a guy twice, have very minimal screen time or development and they headcanon that they're in love and will get married in the coming season.

They say we fetishize Buddie. Yet most of the time when our fandom is discussing our ship we're talking about the emotional connection between them. Or how we want to see them finally be together in a canon romantic relationship or as a full fledged family (with Chris). Or have their first kiss. Meanwhile most of their posts are the kind of sex they headcanon Buck and T*mmy have. Hell after that that dinner scene tons of them changed their urls to something with daddy in it (referencing the out of place daddy kink joke). To be clear there's nothing wrong with headcanons about fictional characters sex lives. But the main reason most of us ship Buddie is not just because they're two hot guys who we want to think about f*cking, it's because we're invested in the story of their life together. The same can't be said for B/T.

They say we feminize Buck for Buddie:

Meanwhile most of their fics/art/headcanons involve T*mmy being the big strong protector rescuing the "damsel in distress" Buck. They constantly talk about how hot it is that T*mmy is this big older "daddy" firefighter who can take care of Buck and guide him in what it means to be in a m|m relationship.

They say we've made Buck's coming out all about Buddie but 1. Eddie and Buck's feelings for him were heavily included in Buck's bi awakening ep. 2. They have made T*mmy synonymous with buck's coming out to the point of saying Buck wouldn't have even realized he liked men without T*mmy. They've even said that if T*mmy and Buck were to break up in s8 that it would ruin Buck's coming out story.

They accuse our fandom of being mean and of harassing the actors including of sending death threats to Lou. Of chasing Lou off of social media and being the one who caused him to stop his cameos. They say we're the reason Oliver chooses not interact with Lou or anything B/T related online. When there has been no proof of any of this. Meanwhile there is proof from their own fandom that Oliver and Ryan have blocked some of them. They have repeatedly tried to pressure Oliver to interact with B/T posts and Lou. They were also leaving comments on the the video of the podcast Ryan did (with Tommy DiDario) where he talked about his s*icide attempt, telling him he should have finished the job.

They call us a cult or BoBs (Buddie or Bust) yet they dress up like Lou and would still be paying for his videos if he was still willing to put them out. They prioritize Lou/T*mmy above any other character on the show. They talk about how T*mmy should get a begins episode. How T*mmy should be a main character. They defend everything T*mmy has ever done including when he was racist and homophobic to Chim and Hen. They harass anyone who has a negative word to say about their ship or Lou or T*mmy much like a cult would protect their leader. They to this day act like everything Lou ever told them in his cameos is the gospel truth.

911 fandom has grown increasingly toxic ever since B/T became a thing and I honestly just can't wait for the day we either find out T*mmy isn't coming back or when his last ep will be. I mean in some ways our fandom won't ever be the same after this. I've seen a lot of ugly sides to people who I had followed for years as Buddie shippers.

It will never not confuse the hell out of me that some people who were big time Buddie shippers for years not only dropped Buddie but turned completely against the ship and our fandom. And all for a ship that is seriously underdeveloped and one that it's clear the show is telling us in flashing neon lights isn't meant to last.

[mlmarint]

so here’s my thoughts about the “daddy issues” thing with the whole anti tommy shit

you guys are such fucking hypocrites

i would be totally on board with someone bringing that it’s not okay to sexualize someone’s trauma if that was the case. but guess whaaaaaaat???? THATS NOT THE CASE. and it’s not “terrible dialogue” either, there’s so many scenes with terrible dialogue in this show, but some of you should really stop and ask yourselfs WHY you didn’t like this one.

if eddie was the one to make a comment like that some of you’d be OVER THE MOON. i’ve NEVER seen ANYONE in this fandom talk about how a LOT of the buddie explicit fanfics have a daddy kink on it. and before any more comments, i REALLY HATE buddie fics with daddy kink because it always reminds me of christopher and do NOT want to think about christopher in that moment.

“that’s not the problem. the problem is that once again buck it’s with someone who doesn’t care about his trauma” oh grow the fuck up.

tommy LITERALLY decided to not date buck because he thought buck wasn’t ready for it, he gave buck his space, he at first didn’t want to go to maddie and chimney wedding with buck because he thought buck was acting on impulse and wanted him to take his time to be okay with who he is, and after he was sure he tried his best to be on time to his date.

and also!!!! buck is a little “freak” in bed guys, he was a literal sex addict in season 1. every now and then the show reminds us this (like the ring cutter scene), also this is the second buck’s relationship with someone who’s like older than him. i wouldn’t be surprised if buck has a canon daddy kink because GUESS WHAAAAAT some people who have daddy issues??? THEY HAVE DADDY KINKS!!!!!

but you guys wanna know what i truly think?

i think that some of you (these tommy antis) are only here for buddie. you’re not here for the show, you’re here for buck and eddie. you’re not here for all these amazing characters!!! you’re not here for the fact that buck being a bisexual man discovering that side of him in his 30s its one of the most important things that happened in this show when we’re talking about lgbt+ characters and the importance of having something like that to be on media.

you’re not here for bi buck, you’re only here if this means that eddie will be with him. you’ll won’t be here if they decide to give a eddie queer discover story non related to buck on season 8 (and i truly think we’re going that way).

you only liked buck and tommy when you could sexualize two man kissing.

if you want to talk about something that is not okay that tommy did why don’t you rewatch the older episodes he’s in? he wasn’t a nice person back then and honestly i would like for them to bring that up!!! for them to show how a person can change and grow out of their prejudice and realize that they don’t need to be an ass and be okay with who they truly are. in fact why don’t we talk about how they hinted the fact that tommy didn’t like who he was when he was working with gerard? that he doesn’t like gerard and that he was a toxic person and that tommy grow up with a racist, homophobic and sexist dad???? that’s why he wasn’t a nice person back than but he’s different now and he’s a proud gay man and that once again that’s a nice thing to have on media because it shows how it’s NEVER too late to come in terms with who you are and change the way your are for better????

tommy isn’t perfect (and no one that he hurt before seems to actually care about it cause he did truly changed), but that doesn’t mean you need to cancel the guy FOR ONE SINGLE comment!!!! part of the 911 team made fun of buck for being sexually assaulted by his therapist but no one canceled them for it, did they?

honestly i am so fucking tired with fandoms in general.

at this point i hope we don’t get buddie being canon FOR A LONG TIME cause i want you guys to suffer with tommy and buck being in a happy relationship.

just remember: eddies it’s not canonical queer yet, there’s hints of it and they probably are going on that road with the whole thing they’re saying on interviews, BUT buck IS BISEXUAL and HE IS dating TOMMY you like it or not and it’s by far the most healthy relationship he EVER had in this show, can’t you be happy for him????

you can be a buddie shipper and still enjoy bucktommy because what we should truly want more than anything it’s buck and eddie to be happy with who they are.

and I SAY ALL THIS BEING A BUDDIE SHIPPER FOR YEARS

[h50europe]

I wish fans would stop dissecting Buck/Tommy scenes but enjoy them for what they are: flirty banter between two lovers. Oliver stated in an interview he and Tim agreed to keep this relationship on the lighter side, more like a rom-com.

But no people go and dissect it like an alien discovered by NASA in a backyard.

When Tommy throws the line, "God, I hope so," he is nothing but hinting at the age difference, which is, give or take, about 7 years. So what? Seven years is nothing. Still, Tommy refers to it but means it as a joke. And Buck even blushes a little.

I can't remember we've ever seen Buck that flirty and all smiles whenever he and one of his many GFs where together. Can't the pearl clutchers be happy for him because he is finally who he is? Without having to hide a part of his sexuality that he kept buried deep inside before he met Tommy. A side he couldn't even show to Eddie. A side he knew was there but never dared to explore? Tommy came into Buck's life and opened this cage. He understands Buck on a totally different level than Eddie ever could. We see that Eddie has no gaydar. He was also clueless about Tommy being gay. Being so close to Buck, like the tin hats want them to be, he must have realized that Buck isn't only into women but guys as well. "Buddie" lived practically out of each other's pockets. And not once did Eddie ask, "Could it be that you aren't just into girls?" In a serious manner, not as a joke.

How about dissecting Eddie's dating "issues" with the doppelganger of his deceased wife? Does this imply Eddie's into necrophilia? This is ridiculous. It would be only one of their reactions. The nicer one, I guess. But it is no different from their daddy-kink nonsense.

What's wrong with these tin hats who are constantly complaining about LIs in general. No matter if it's Buck or Eddie? Shoving your favorite ship down everybody else's throat is the opposite of being open-minded and tolerant.

If Buddie should ever become canon, they will need a lot of patience. Eddie suffers from PTSD and is mentally unstable. Now, he lost his son. He has so much on his plate already. The last thing he needs right now is Buck coming over him like a force of nature and telling him he loves him. That would be the final straw if you want to see him end up in a loony bin. Eddie has to be on his own for some time to find out what and who he really wants. Something that would have to be stretched at least over a few episodes, if not over a full season. If it should be realistic. It took them 100 episodes to address Buck's bi-sexuality. And we saw hints here and there. We never saw hints of it concerning Eddie. Why do these "fans" think you can turn him bi from one moment to the other? Like Oliver said, it's not what he wanted for his character that Buck is bi, and suddenly, everyone else around him has some sort of sexual awakening. Since when can't a bisexual or gay man can't have a heterosexual bestie?

Also, bashing and harassing an actor for a part he is playing shows how sick these tin hats are. Or do they really think they could scare him off the show with their immature behavior and their unfounded hatred? Such behavior never ended a series character, let alone made a showrunner diverge from his plans and suddenly turn his show into a fan service-only show. Get a life ASAP, you tin hats and spread your toxic behavior among your ilk. It's not our fault you're leading a sad life full of envy and h*te. I am so sorry for you all. Fueled with so much anger must turn you into embittered personalities with no fun and no friends. How many of you opened sock puppet accounts to have at least someone to talk to? Living in an echo chamber can be exhausting at times...