killmesweet

[killmesweet]

rafe IS a tits man send tweet

https://www.tumblr.com/mrbearyman/783177077149040641?source=share

pls write something abt this, i feel like its so blue collar!rafe coded

— blue collar!rafe obsessing over ur tits

warnings — tit-fucking, cum-eating, lewd language

a/n — i think the link is broken or they took it down 😭

it's rafe's thing. not just a casual glance, but an almost magnetic pull his gaze — and soon, his hands — have towards your chest. you'll be stirring dinner at the stove, the aroma of the garlic and herbs filling the small kitchen, and suddenly his calloused, work-roughened hands will be there, cupping you from behind, thumbs brushing a little too insistently over your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

"hey, baby," he'll rumble, his voice tired but with that familiar, possessive edge. his lips find your neck, nuzzling, while his hands give a firm, appreciative squeeze. "missed these all damn day."

it's not always sexual, not immediately. sometimes it's just a comforting, possessive gesture. you'll be curled up on the couch watching tv, and his arm will drape around your shoulders, his hand casually finding its way to rest on your breast, kneading softly, his thumb making lazy circles. he doesn't even seem to realise he's doing it half the time. it's just… where his hand naturally gravitates when you're close.

other times, though, it's undeniably a prelude, a clear signal of his intent. like tonight. he backs you against the wall the moment he gets home, that hungry, almost feral look in his eyes, the weariness of the day replaced by a raw, focused desire. his hands go straight for your shirt, yanking it up impatiently, exposing you to the cool air of the kitchen. "need to see 'em," he groans, his voice thick. "need to feel 'em."

before you can say a word, his mouth latches onto a nipple, sucking hard, his tongue flicking and teasing. simultaneously, his hands roughly palm and squeeze your other breast, fingers digging in slightly, a pleasurable ache. he loves the feel of them, the weight in his calloused hands, the way your soft skin contrasts with the hardness of his own worked body. he groans against your skin, a low, guttural sound of pure satisfaction.

he'll grope you in public, too, in that way that's just subtle enough not to cause a major scene but definitely makes your cheeks burn and a thrill shoot through you. a hand sliding under your top for a quick, possessive squeeze while you're browsing the store, fingers brushing 'accidentally' across your cleavage when he leans in to whisper something in your ear, a firm cupping motion when he pulls you close for a brief, hard kiss that leaves you breathless.

"can't help it," he'll murmur, if you swat his hand away with a half-hearted protest, his eyes glinting with amusement and desire. "they're just… right there. perfect handfuls. made for my hands." and then he'll grin, that charming, slightly wolfish grin that makes your insides melt, and his hand will inevitably find its way back, kneading, squeezing, a constant, possessive reminder of his particular appreciation for that part of you.

tonight, however, the casual groping quickly escalates. after a few minutes of him devouring your breasts against the kitchen wall, leaving them aching and hypersensitive, he pulls back slightly, his breathing ragged, eyes blazing. "not enough," he growls. "need more than this."

he grabs your hand, pulling you roughly towards the bedroom.

and you follow, heart pounding, already anticipating what he wants. he doesn't let go until you're standing beside the bed. he pushes you back gently onto the mattress, then quickly unbuckles his worn leather belt, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thud, followed by his dusty work jeans. he's hard already, his cock thick and pulsing.

he doesn't bother taking off your shirt completely, just shoves it up, baring your breasts full to his hungry gaze. he kneels on the bed between your legs, his eyes devouring you. "perfect," he breathes, reaching out to cup both breasts, weighing them in his hands, thumbs circling your already puckered nipples. "so fucking perfect."

he lowers his head, taking one nipple into his mouth again, sucking strongly, while his other hand continues to palm and squeeze your other breast. but then, he pulls back, his eyes glittering with a specific intent. he reaches for the lube on the nightstand, a familiar gesture.

"gonna fuck 'em, baby," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal as he slicks his own cock. "gonna slide right between 'em. want to feel you all around me."

he fucks your tits with a primal intensity, lost in his favourite obsession, until he finally comes with a roar, spilling his release all over your chest, a messy, possessive claim. he collapses forward slightly, bracing his hands on the mattress on either side of your head, chest heaving, still partially nestled between your breasts. his breathing is harsh, ragged, filling the small bedroom.

for a long moment, he just stays there, letting the aftershocks ripple through him, the scent of sex and sweat and his release sharp in the air. the sticky warmth of his cum cools quickly on your skin, a stark, tangible reminder of his specific desire fulfilled.

"fuck, baby," he murmurs, his voice still rough. he leans down, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the valley between your breasts, right where he just came, tasting himself on your skin. "always so good to me…" he licks a slow path up your sternum, towards your neck, his hand still cupping one of your breasts, thumb gently stroking the nipple, now slick with his seed.

"so fucking good to me."

taglist ; @mojitrvo @mayanqueenxx @kisses4rafey @zoenighshade555 @feverg1rl @onxlyemery @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @yncoded @millie--billie @laniirackssss @slut4you @g3t2kn0w @kravitzwhore @dollyfiles @kild4re @zzhenyac @sparklyananas @dsfault @rafesprttyprincess @lynst91 @nonbeliever1 @drewsephrry @softstarr @k4yr14 @babydollll-bunny @leleasalwaysblog @cokewithcameron @mialuvsrafe @urcoolgf @love-ella333 @amelialovesrafe @kaisage45 @goodsoup19 (join here) | divider creds ; @/anitalenia @/fairytopea

© written by ditzyrafe — do not steal or claim as ur own, stealing will result in me blocking u, any resemblance to any other story is simply coincidental!

[killmesweet]

Big fan of small waists and big dicks.

[killmesweet]

this is my BRAND i need more

DILF!RAFE CAMERON

dilf!cameron being the richest motherfucker in the neighborhood, and generous as hell. a little calmer due to growing in age, yet he's still wild from his younger years. father of a younger daughter named angelene, rafe developed more of a softer side for the women in his life, despite his failing relationship with the mother of his child—which is where you come in.

dilf!cameron didn't expect to fall for a younger girl, let alone someone that could have passed for his daughter, or even a babysitter for his little girl. though when he realized it, he did nothing to stop it. even when topper and kelce questioned it, he didn't care.

topper, two whiskey glasses deep and curious. "i don't know man, she's hot and all, but..."

kelce chimed in. "she's young as hell, probably childish."

rafe let it go in the ear and out the other. "since when do you two know anything about love? kelce, i don't remember the last time you had a girlfriend and topper, last time i checked, you got left for a pogue...twice."

dilf!cameron who pours all his love into you—spoiling you with whatever you want, planning dates (despite the suspicion from the woman thats still his wife), and carving out large chunks of time just for you. there's nothing he won't do for the girl that drives the beverage cart at the country club. which once you're his, of course he wants you to quit and let him take care of you full time. always the possessive type, rafe does not want other men undressing you with their eyes the way he does. he practically seethes whenever he sees other dirty, old silver foxes, tipping you large amounts and flirting like they haven't had pussy in years.

dilf!cameron being the typical, dominant man. does not let you take control during sex. he wants you obedient, even if you act bratty at first. he'll always remind you who's in control. loves, loves to throat fuck you til' you can't handle it—he will never miss the chance to stuff your mouth full, especially when you're running that sweet little mouth he so desperately enjoys. with him, rafe never gets tired. he'll fuck you so long as you're begging for it, and goes crazy whenever he puts you in doggy. smacking your ass to watch it bounce back, a sharp sting marking it as he shoves himself into your cunt from behind you. calls you pet names like "princess" or "sweet girl."

dilf!cameron who never fails to give aftercare. caters to you every chance he gets. running hot baths, ordering take out and watching your favorite movies while you sit in his lap. the rafe that loves the small domestic things you do for him—cooking him dinner, wearing those little lingerie sets he likes, and he's willing to do anything, everything to keep you; especially when he knows you won't settle for being a secret. if he's gonna love you, he's gonna do it proudly.

[killmesweet]

cheat! cheat! cheat!

━━━━━ ✧˖° 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

warnings: mentions of a possible abusive relationship, mentions of sexual situations, hints of past drug use, implied age difference, very feminine! reader

word count: ~2k

shane doesn’t deserve you.

you love shane. 

well, you did. do? you’re not sure. as much as you obsess over your feelings for him, there isn’t enough time to actually come up with an answer. every single day is all about survival - what to eat, how to stay away from walkers, where the group is going to sleep. 

it’s exhausting, but the fact that you even have these questions about shane shows you how lucky you are. your grandmother used to say that problems meant you were privileged, although these days, you’re not so sure about that. 

because right now, your socks are wet, your favorite sweater has a stain on it, you’re more hungry than you’ve been in weeks, and you can’t even properly unpack what little belongings you have in your tent because the entire group will likely not be staying at the greene farm for much longer. 

fuck your fucking life. 

you just want to cry. the day has hardly started, and you literally just want to die. you’re not suicidal, just overwhelmed, and the shit going on between you and shane is not making your life any easier. maybe that's a good enough reason to end things with him altogether. 

you tried to talk to lori about it, but she acted all weird. told you to stay far away from shane, but her tone was hard to read and - whatever. you tried to talk to maggie about it, and she’s nice, friendly. but her advice was just to never speak to him again. unlikely. 

beth is too young to know anything about men, and glenn practically ran away from you when you tried to open up. carol’s too passive to tell you what she really thinks, and andrea and everyone else has the same opinion - leave shane alone. it’s so fucked up, because part of the problem is that he can’t leave you alone. asshole. 

stupididly sexy, tough, strong, good at kissing, good at fucking - ugh, shane really is an asshole. 

you fell in love with shane so fast. you’d had plenty of boyfriends back before the world went to shit, but they were nothing like shane. you don’t know much about the way shane was before all of this, but you do know that he likes to get his hands dirty. likes to be in charge. wants to be in charge, and truth be told, he has the potential to be a good leader…

so long as rick isn’t around. 

shane was such an amazing leader before rick joined the camp. really - he provided and organized and was so trustworthy, you’re pretty sure you blew him everyday to thank him for all the shit he did for the group. for you. 

from the minute the rest of the group found you, shane took you under his wing. you’d been in college when this all went down, so you were nowhere near your family. when the walkers started popping up on your campus, you fled with some friends, but most of them died along the way. when the group found you, you were all alone on the highway. starving. nearly dead. wishing to just die. 

but everyone was so kind, especially shane. so strong, the way he picked you up and brought you to a camper to let you rest up while a few of the others watched over you. you don’t remember it because you were so out of it when they found you, but you remember how it felt to be in his arms. he was so nice, when he gave you food and let you sleep in his tent because you didn’t have one of your own yet. so safe, when you eventually found your way into his arms in that tent. 

and then, as it goes - he eventually found his way into you. which you wanted. god, you wanted it, from the moment you saw him on that highway with biceps so big they looked larger than your head.

and, okay - you can’t say that you hate his macho, mood swinging attitude. it’s sexy. at times. it’s dangerous. and you love when he loses his shit and he takes it out on you. drags you into the woods, or offers to carry you on his back. fucks you while holding you up against a tree, or pushes you down to the itchy grass of the ground and pounds you until your throw your head back and your ears ring.

you love shane. loved? but ever since rick came back and the group made it to the farm, he’s different. 

“fuck you snifflin’ for? not even lunchtime yet. what the hell d’ya have to be upset about this early?” the comment takes you out of your thoughts, and you stop picking at a loose thread on your pink, fucking wet sock. 

you know who it is. it’s daryl. he’s always giving you a hard time - at least in comparison to the way everyone else in the group treats you. everyone else treats you like something fragile, while daryl, and okay, shane, treat you like they’re not afraid you’re going to break. or maybe they just don’t care.

“i’m upset because i hate my fucking life. what, do you like living like this? is there anything to smile about?” you’ve know daryl for awhile now, and this banter is just what you two do. he scoffs at what you say, and he busies himself behind you but you refuse to look and see what he’s doing. you’re that stubborn. 

“sounds like you should just die, then. you want me to shoot you right here?” you cannot believe he just said that, and you can’t control it now. you’re sitting in the middle of the camp on a plastic chair that maggie dragged out for the group a few days ago, surrounded by tents and the cars and the camper. you’re sweaty and hot and miserable with a wet sock from stepping in the wrong place when trying to avoid a pile of mud (you’ve got sensory issues, okay) - and now daryl is offering to kill you? 

you know he’s got dark humor, but you can’t help it today. you’re sensitive. shane woke up in an amazing mood - kissed you and fucked you, muttered the three words you’d been waiting to hear from him into your ear while he came inside of you, and he promised he’d just fucking listen to rick today. to hershel. he promised. 

but then, at breakfast, he got into it with rick. you love shane, but surely he can see that rick is better equipped to be the leader of the group? he’s got his family to think about, and hershel actually respects him. 

but no - shane couldn’t handle it. he got angry, yelled at rick and shoved at him, then fucked off in a car with andrea all the while you ate a bruised apple and felt his cum leaking out of you. everyone looked at you - but you’re not sure what emotion was on their face. pity? or even worse, do they think you could ever possibly even try control shane? 

yeah, right. 

and then you stepped in a fucking puddle. god, you just want to sleep forever. 

“daryl,” you finally say, turning to glare at him while he rummages around in the basket of fruit that beth brought over this morning. so that’s what he was doing. “fuck you.” 

daryl grabs a peach out of the basket. it looks like he wants to say something with the way his lip twitches, but he’s unsure - ultimately though, he speaks. 

fucking dick. 

“try talkin’ like that to that boyfriend of yours. he’s fuckin’ crazy, you know that, don’t ya?” 

you want to snap something back, but you literally can’t think that quick. you’re so fucking embarassed at the fact that other people have witnessed the fights you and shane get in. well, the fights shane starts that you just try to ignore, but it’s getting increasingly harder because he’s getting increasingly more mean. 

your face heats. you know what daryl is implying. if you can be bitchy to him, why can’t you give shane a hard time when he fucks with you in front of the entire group? 

“stay out of this, sweetheart,” shane will say, whenever you give an opinion or share an idea with the group. “lucky you’re so pretty, you know,” he said the other day, when you tripped over a big branch while on a walk. you two weren’t alone. “not much goin’ on in that head of yours. helps to be pretty.” and the list goes on and on. shane always has a backhanded comment, or a rough hand pulling you or pushing you somewhere. it’s mortifying, but with so much else going on, it’s easy to push the urgency of those things away. 

because shane takes care of you. and he loves you, right? he said it today. that’s got to count for something. 

great. you’re crying. maybe shane was right when he called you immature the other day, for reasons you don’t even remember. maybe you’re so immature, you still love this man when you should hate him. maybe -  

“oh, shit. yer cryin’? damnit,” daryl mutters, and you hear him say something about how he doesn’t have time for this, but truth be told, all there is these days is time. too much of it. not enough of it. you don’t even have a fucking clock, so. 

you hate your life. 

“‘m not crying because of you, meanie,” you say, wiping the tears spilling from your eyes. you’re glad shane is gone and that everyone else fucked off too. you’re not upset that shane didn’t take you with him, even if he was being a nightmare -

except you are.

as usual, daryl did his own thing and you hid in your tent to avoid doing anything, and now you don’t know where anyone is and you can’t find carol to see if she can get the stain out of your sweater, and why does life suck so bad? 

daryl hesitates but sits down next to you. on the ground. “should probably shut up,” he says, with kindness evident in his tone. you almost laugh, but you don’t. daryl continues. 

“cheer up. you wanna go for a walk or somethin’? should be pretty safe if we stay where the trees aren’t so dense,” you’re hardly listening to what daryl is saying, because all you hear is shane’s voice in your head telling you that you’re not allowed to leave the camp or the farm unless he’s with you. 

he said that when you were going to join rick and andrea one day, and you wondered if it was a little controlling but you brushed it off and just assumed it was because he was worried about you. which is valid. he loves you (he says), and you don’t make it easy on yourself with the way you present. 

pink socks and lilac sneakers and a sweatshirt with a picture of a bunny on it. a cashmere sweater that you can’t even think about parting with. clips in your hair and stained cheeks and lips that you’re only able to have because you found some berries. you’re reminded that when shane tried to kiss the berry taste off your lips, talked about how fuckin’ cute you are, that daryl and rick walked by and got mad at you for wasting food. some fucking life. 

you answer daryl. “i can’t,” you go to make an excuse, but daryl scoffs like he’s disgusted. 

“yeah, yeah. ‘cause of your fuckin’ old man,” but you cut him off and wrinkle your nose. it’s gross to hear daryl talk about shane like that. your old man. 

yuck. 

“he’s not,” but daryl cuts you off again. it’s comforting, in a way. you don’t know what is, just - something about daryl dixon is like a heavy dose of xanax for your soul. 

which is what you need by now, truth be told. you sigh. 

“he’s too old for you. fuckin’ crazy bastard. yer too young, too sensitive,” but this time, you get angry. you shake your head. 

“does anybody ever have anything nice to say about me? too this, too that. i’m so fucking sick of -”

daryl stands. 

“too cute. too pretty, ya brat. jesus,” he grumbles. you sit in silence for a moment, trying not to let out another laugh when daryl finally bites into his peach and starts slurping it for some dramatic reason. it’s funny. daryl’s so….daryl. but you’re still trying to recover from his compliments. 

a few moments later, shane’s car pulls up. with that bitch andrea right next to him, grinning? you tense up, and when shane gets out of the car, daryl says one more thing before standing up and walking off. 

“don’t owe him shit, you know,” he says. “he wasn’t the one that carried you that day we found you that day on the highway, anyway.“

you think about what it’d taste like to kiss daryl with peace juice on his lips.

[killmesweet]

this just reminded me that i need to make a gyno appointment

i need more gyno rafe!! maybe she comes to him because she was talking to her friends about their sex life and they’re alll talking about squirting and she wants to try it

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, medical setting, explicit sexual content, use of gloves/lube, dirty talk, overstimulation, squirting, patient/doctor dynamic, vaginal sex

pairing: gynecologist!rafe cameron x fem!reader

you were nervous the moment you stepped back into the clinic.

you’d told yourself you wouldn’t come back unless you needed a real appointment—something official. but after last weekend’s sleepover with your friends, with all their sex stories and teasing questions, you’d left feeling... behind?

they’d all done it.

squirted.

some bragged like it happened every time. some just said it felt huge. one girl even said she cried afterward.

you'd never done it. you’d never even gotten close.

but you knew someone who might be able to help.

so here you were. cheeks hot, thighs tight, eyes locked on the floor when you stepped into his private room.

rafe didn’t ask why you came at first—just smiled gently and shut the door behind you.

“nobody else on the schedule this afternoon,” he said quietly. “you’ve got my full attention, sweetheart.”

you were already laying back on the table when you whispered it.

“i heard my friends talking. about... squirting. and i just... i’ve never done it.”

his gloved hands paused just above your thighs. his gaze lifted.

“and you came to me.”

your voice cracked. “i didn’t know who else to ask.”

his jaw flexed. “you did the right thing.”

he helped you out of your little cotton panties, folded them neatly, and lifted your knees until you were open just how he liked.

“don’t be embarrassed,” he murmured, cool lube slicking his fingers. “if anyone’s gonna show you how your body works, it’s me.”

he started with one finger—slow, steady, deep. he curled it upward right away, watching your reaction closely.

“we’re gonna apply pressure here,” he said softly, rubbing a spot that made your hips twitch. “that’s where your g-spot is, sweetheart. it’s sensitive. swells when you’re worked up.”

you moaned already, thighs trembling.

“relax,” he cooed. “breathe. we’re just stimulating.”

a second finger pushed in. the rhythm changed. harder. firmer. your eyes fluttered.

then—he added his thumb to your clit.

the pressure.

the fullness.

the sound of your own slick echoing in the quiet room.

you gasped. legs kicked.

“shh, that’s it,” he whispered. “there you go, baby. your body’s already trying.”

he kept going—working you closer, deeper, building something huge. your stomach tightened. your thighs shook. you didn’t even realize you were crying until he spoke again.

“that’s it. fuck, you’re gonna come, huh?”

“rafe—dr. cameron—”

and then it burst.

liquid rushed out of you in streams, soaking his glove, his arm, and the table beneath.

your whole body locked, spasmed, went limp.

he kept rubbing.

“that’s my girl,” he growled, his voice finally breaking. “fuck, sweetheart, you're such a messy girl.”

[killmesweet]

dream scenario

best friend!rafe x bratty!kook!reader

rafe couldn’t believe it. you were ignoring him.

forty-five minutes with no answer. the longest you had gone without answering him before was eleven minutes. and even then he was blowing up your phone. he was pissed.

and you? you were having the time of your life at the country club. chatting it up with your girls, espresso martini sitting on the white tablecloth in front of you. ignoring him all because he had only let you get one purse when you had wanted three. so you sat, ignoring your phone as it buzzed. and buzzed. and buzzed again.

but you couldn’t ignore rafe when you looked up from petting your terrier, sparky, and saw him standing right in front of you.

“rafey!” you cooed, after the slightest second of hesitation. would have been unnoticeable to anyone else. but rafe? he noticed. oh god, he noticed. his usual lazy smirk didn’t sit on his lips like it would any other time you saw him.

“get up,” he said, running a hand through his hair and looking away. you pouted, letting out a small sigh.

“y’re ruinin’ my girls day.” you shooed him away dismissively, turning your attention back to your dog, who arfed happily as you scratched behind his ears. “‘m not goin’ anywhere with you, mad at you.”

you could hear rafe huff and even though you were turned away from him, you would probably be right to assume his lips were pursed. he clenched his jaw before he spoke. “you’re fuckin’ coming with me.” his voice was exasperated and you could tell he wasn’t having your shit at the moment.

you didn’t say anything for a moment, and then you turned to him. “if you take me shopping…” that was an easy deal. you saw him nod as soon as you finished your sentence and then a smirk fell on your face. “six bags.”

he rolled his eyes, but when you started to turn back away from him he planted a hand on your shoulder.

“fine.”

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE like nd rb… i need reach…. love u all

[killmesweet]

tbr

SO MUCH TO LOSE MASTERLIST

So Much to Lose - ONGOING

For readers 18+ only please!

summary:

Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.note: Featuring Dark!Joel

story trailer

note: the gal in this is just a stand in, because the Reader is YOU in it.

Chapter 1 : Patrols

Chapter 2: The Doe

Chapter 3: You Make the Rules, Remember?

Chapter 4: Early Riser

Chapter 5: You still want this?

Chapter 6: Trapped Inside

Chapter 7: Spoiled

Chapter 8: Shoulder to Shoulder

Chapter 9: Repairs

Chapter 10: Rancher Street

Chapter 11: Snow

Chapter 12: Town Meeting

Chapter 13: Family Dinner

Chapter 14: Coffee Flavored Kisses

Chapter 15: Going Quiet

Chapter 16 : Will you tell me?

Chapter 17 : Pockets of Beauty

Chapter 18 : Useless: part one / part two

Chapter 19: Under the Lights

Chapter 20: Footprints in the snow

Chapter 21: The Red Scarf

Chapter 22: Looking Forward

Chapter 23: Charlie's

Chapter 24: Reunited

Chapter 25: My Only - part one | part 2

Epilogues: through the seasons with SMTL

ONE: SPRING

TWO: SUMMER

THREE: FALL

FOUR: WINTER

EXTRAS

"Chapter 7 Joel" by @loveIvyxxx

Story MoodBoard by @angelbabysblog

Joel Miller Moodboard by @angelbabysblog

SMTL meme by @pedrito-is-punk

SMTL Soundtrack by @lovely-vamp-princess

Fan Art by @almostempty

Fan Video by @shessweetsour

Fan Video by @ziggycowboyz

Fan Art by @mushgloomz

[killmesweet]

scandal!rafe au IM SAT

president!rafe x secretary!reader plsplspls.. olivia and fitz stand tf up

tw: adultery, both are married, secretary is a whole mother

"You're supposed to be at the inaugural ball." You say, your hands behind your back, a practised smile on your glossy lips that your President stares at. Your back pressed against the wall.

"I was at four of inaugural balls." He mutters, as he takes of his blazer, while keeping his eyes on her at all times.

Rolling his sleeves up, and you couldn't help but stare, every thought of your husband out of the window. He was doing this on purpose. "And now I'm here." His gaze pierced through her.

"With you." He adds.

Your arms crossed, a smile on your face. "Where's your wife?" You couldn't help but ask, even if it was a hot topic about the President's strained marriage with his wife.

"Two floors and a whole wing away." He walks closer to her, as he sees her feet move.

Your eyes take more than one second glances at the veins of his arms when it was rolled up. He catches her looking. A smirk on his face.

But you look away. Your nose flared up a little.

"Mr President──" You begin but he cuts you off.

"Oh, I like that." He replies. "Say it again." He walks even closer.

You back away a little to tease him, a smile on your lips. "Mr President." You whisper again.

"Mmhm." He hums in agreement. And you laugh. Knowing why he's crossing the room to you so quickly.

Backing away, you laugh. "We can── we can't..." You smile.

"We can." He reaches for your waist, grabbing you before you could move even further. A hand on your thigh, the other on your waist.

His hand intertwines with yours, and his lips meet with your neck, he knows exactly how you like it. And his hand goes under your skirt.

[killmesweet]

thank you angel!!! 👼🏼🍰

living dead girl. vampires zombies and cannibals. vanilla scented. luca guadagnino films. hopeless romantic. pierce the veil. if lost return to joel miller.

secondary writing blog— @rafeovermorals

ill follow back here to be mutuals! i cant follow on there

[killmesweet]

as an avid strawberry lover this was MADE FOR ME!!!

-* Strawberries

There are some things Joel misses after the end of times, he didn’t think something as sweet as strawberries would be one

- [thank you so much for 2,000 followers, insane, he’s something sweet while you wait. There’s making out and fruit involved but nothing to explicit. Smutty]

When discussing what you missed most in the end of times you thought of anything practical. Easy supply of period products, bread, hot showers.

You hadn't thought about fruit until you were faced with it.

You and Ellie decided to let Joel take his time in the shower and raiding the house that had once belonged to his 'friends' - Bill and Frank.

You'd only come on this job for the kid, apparently an immune with the ability of a cure. You didn't care for Joel, never had but you cared for getting to an end.

That was how you and her ended up lingering over a garden patch labelled with different vegetables and fruits. One stood out to you the most.

"Holy shit."

"Shit- what?" Ellie whipped around in every direction, looking for trouble. But you had already thrown your pack aside and practically dug into the ground to get to the sweet nectar.

As soon as you found one, whole, round red with flickering seeds, you held it up to the sun. It was whole. It was healthy. It was like nothing else in the world.

And it tasted better than you'd remembered. You moan around the juice on your lips and the taste that fell on your tongue.

At that moment the taste of forbidden fruit was the best thing in the world.

Ellie looked at you and at the ground before following suit, plucking one she assumed was alright. "What? It's a fruit."

"It's so much more than a fucking fruit," you licked your lips, looking around the yard. There were loads, enough to get buckets full. Bill and Frank must have been great people.

You were already checking around bushes and your pack.

"Should we take some back for Joel?" asked Ellie. For a kid faced with a lot of grim, she sure had manners.

You grumbled and said nothing. Instead, you pulled out scissors and begun.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°

By the time you and Ellie got back to the house, Joel had showered, even put on a nice checked shirt. He'd even combed back his hair.

When the door slammed he stood up, speaking in that familiar gruff voice. "Where have you been?"

Ellie grinned. "Well don't you look pretty!"

Joel shook his head. "Shut up," he looked back to you. You were older than Ellie, but still much younger than him. Still, easier to make sense of. "Where have you been?"

Ellie rolled her eyes as she couldn't miss how his voice softened for you.

You adjusted your pack, glaring at him.

He took a quick survey of you- a new habit of his. Your pants were mud stained at the knees, mud under your nails and... something sweeter about you.

Joel looked at your lips and he swore they'd never looked so inviting before. Never had they had such a sweetness to their look, or so glossed over. Or so red. "Why are your lips like that?"

Your fingers brushed your lips. "Like what?"

Kissable. Glossy. Delectable. He suddenly wished he hadn't said anything as you wiped away the beauty.

"We went strawberry picking!" said Ellie happily.

"You went what?" Joel's brows furrowed.

You huffed. "Are we done here?"

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°

Only days later did Joel realise the new sweetness to your lips- when you and him were sitting across from each other, each making home on a tree while Ellie slept.

He'd invited you to sleep but you were to on edge. And that put him on edge. When you were on edge you became un-predictable and Joel didn't like unpredictable. He lived in fear when he couldn't work out your next move.

Like that night, when you laid out a cloth of the little red fruits out to him.

For a moment, Joel stared confused.

You shrug, taking your own pack of strawberries out. "They were gonna go bad."

Joel had a share of five.

"Strawberries?" he prodded them. He knew they still existed, he was the one who traded the pack of seeds to Frank. He just hadn't thought this would be what had him going crazy over you.

"What did you want? Banana's?" you sassed.

He rolled his eyes, fully prepared to tell you how disgusting your attitude was when he looked up.

Your lips were wrapped around the fruit, dragging on the seeds until your teeth sunk in just above the green leaf. There was a gentle slurp and then the strawberry was gone, leaving you to flick the greenery off.

Joel didn't care for eating his own. He cared for you eating the rest of them.

You went again for a second one. This one must have been juicier as the slurp was louder.

Holy fuc- what was Joel supposed to do? Shackled up with someone who didn't care about him and who he thought he cared even less for.

But there you were, taking every delicious drop of the fruit on your tongue. And it was getting him feral. His mouth was watering as he watched, his fingers trembling, his jeans tightening between his legs.

If you noticed, you didn't say anything, biting into the third.

It was smaller but a dribble of juice marked the corner of your lips.

Joel didn't know what he was doing. He almost couldn't believe he was carrying himself across the space and to you. No, not carrying.

Joel fucking crawled over to you.

Finally, you looked up at him, watching as he got closer with ease. Knees of the fifty-something year old avoiding the pile of strawberries you offered.

He slouched next to you as you waited for him to do something like tell you it was for warmth or to give Ellie more room. But he offered you nothing.

Nothing except his finger touching the corner of your lips were it was blotched with the fruit and dabbing it on his tongue. It tasted so much more sweeter coming from you.

"What are you-" words escaped in a lost breath.

"T'sweet," he mumbled.

Joel didn't want it to end. He thought really at that moment he'd abandon this whole thing and just settle on getting you a field of strawberries. Anything to see your lips smeared in the sweetness.

He reached over, taking one of the one's your offered him. He finally took a bite and started to understand why you'd got so worked up. It was a different and welcome taste.

You gulped watching him. The juice getting caught in his stubble around him. You wanted to reach up and brush it away like he had so casually, but you were rendered frozen.

Joel took away the strawberry, tip bitten off and looked at you.

It happened slowly, slow enough for you to tell him to stop. Or to grab his wrist or to sink your teeth into the fruit. You did none of those things.

You let Joel use the strawberry like it was god damn lipstick. He gently dragged it over your top lip- you accommodated by gasping and leaving your lips parted. There was a faint trace of the strawberry there.

Joel looked at your lip as he took it lower and dragged it along the bottom. Back and forth, repeating it like a silent prayer. He actually seemed to concentrate at the task at hand while he did, studying the stutter in your breath and the tilt of your chin.

You wanted it. And maybe you didn’t know, but Joel did.

He worked in your bottom lip before prodding with the fruit. "Open."

Any other time you’d have told him to ‘fuck off’ but now you obliged, empty in thoughts except for his.

Joel watched as your lips wrapped around the fruit and took what was left. He threw away the green.

You took it slowly, un-sure on where to go or what to do other than just eat.

Your jaw worked as you tasted the sweetness and Joel's hand crawled up the side of your face, creeping to hold your cheek while his thumb sat itself under your jaw to feel it move.

He watched you with nothing like how he had before. There was no distaste, no anger or annoyance. There was only wonder and something darker you didn't want to name. If you named it, it would become un-avoidable.

Joel's finger danced over your lips as you swallowed the last of the fruit, lips parting for a breath. With him this close to you, it was like you couldn't breathe.

Suddenly Joel's finger felt the warmth of your mouth and it wasn't enough. Wasn't nearly enough.

He surged forward and kissed you.

It wasn't gentle like you'd imagined. Stupidly you'd thought- in the small moments you did think about it- that Joel was a slow lover, that he took his time in learning and tasting.

It was anything but.

It was like he was trying to eat you.

His mouth was wide as it captured yours, his hand on you cheek holding you close to him as his tongue slithered in and searched your mouth. Just funning along yours sloppily wasn't enough, he needed to get the feel of your mouth.

And the taste of those strawberries.

But to you, nothing tasted better than the feeling of Joel Miller giving in. Of feeling him desperate for you like you'd been for him. The taste of your favourite fruit was becoming a distant memory as you dug your fingers into Joel's coat and tugged yourself closer to him until you were practically in his lap.

His lips sunk into your lips.

"Joel," you mewled.

"Shh," he shushed you, hand reaching out blindly aside him. He didn't want to look away from you for a second, scared that if he took his eye of you you'd rush off, you'd ruin his treat.

Joel grasped a strawberry and shoved it between the two of you. He pulled away only enough to shove the strawberry in your mouth.

Your moan was muffled as you took the fruit and had no choice but to chew it down as quick as you could before Joel's lips were on yours again.

His tongue ran over your bottom lip and he panted against you. "I... this is... so sweet."

Never had you known Joel to be lost for words.

You didn't mind.

He'd pulled away enough to catch his breath but you leaned in, lips brushing his. You took it slower, still getting the strawberry down. Your hands held onto his thighs, squeezing and moving up his jeans at a pace of torture.

There was a squelch noise that had you pulling away and licking your lips.

Joel had smushed the last strawberry between his fingers, creating a mess of red.

You looked down at the waste, chocking and about to chastise him when Joel adjusted and smeared it over your lips- down your jaw- down your neck. "J-Joel," you utter, tilting your head back as he created the path. "S'cold."

"I'll warm you, baby, jus' wait," he mumbled, too entranced in his work to focus on anything else.

Your hands wander up his arms and to his hair. "You-you like strawberries?"

Joel grumbled as he finished his work- making a mess of you. "I like you," he said, voice low and rough as if he'd slept hours. "Like you and Strawberries."

With that, he showed you his fingers that were smeared in bits of strawberry. He didn't have to say anything, you wanted it.

As Joel went to the base of your neck, where he'd pulled your jacket down to put the sweetness there, he went tongue first before sucking at the spot.

Your tongue darted out to his fingers, licking the stuff off like you would his cock. Fuck. The thought of strawberry and his cock sent your core on fire as you felt yourself slicken.

You clenched your thighs together as Joel forced his fingers into your mouth that closed around him.

His large and calloused hand dug into your thigh. "I know, baby, I know."

His lips missed away the mess he'd created as you continued to clean off his fingers. His tongue trailed up your neck and under your jaw where he spent a minute or two sucking off the juice.

Joel took away his fingers so he could tilt your neck to the side to get to every space.

"Joel, I need... I need you," you whispered. Damn you if anyone heard, if Ellie who slept only spaces away was awake.

"I know hun," he spoke into your neck, nipping the sore skin. "But I'm a bit busy right now."

You grumbled and whined, hips rocking against his leg.

"Oh, that's what you want?" he teased. Joel's hold on your thigh increased and he moved you to straddle his thigh. "Is that it? All you want?"

You shook your head as his lips kissed your cheek. "Want more."

"More?" he whispered. His lips brushed yours. "Greedy girl."

His tongue danced over your lips, licking off everything he put there.

Abruptly, you moved away from him, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

It took Joel a moment to come out of the stupor you'd put him in. Eventually, he blinked and looked around. "What?" had you heard something? Raiders, infected?

No. He felt something cold drag over his jaw line.

The last strawberry and you were offering it to him. You'd ran it along his jaw where his stubble sat and under his nose so he could inhale the sweetness that was slowly becoming yours.

Finally the tip ran along his lips and Joel grabbed your wrist in a grip to hurt.

His eyes, dark, darker still in the light of the moon, kept a hold of your gaze as he took the strawberry whole in his mouth. His teeth grazed the tips of your fingers as he took it.

Joel couldn't deny, it was heaven and knowing he'd taste it on you was heaven even more. Holding you was paradise and kissing you was where he wanted to die.

You watched as he made slow work on sending it off.

As soon as he had, Joel latched onto you.

His hands had grabbed onto your forearms and dragged you into his lap. Then his arm was wrapping around your waist and he was moving so you were lying on the sleeping bag and he could feel into your mouth deeply. His tongue could find itself a home in your mouth and it did.

It was all tongue and teeth, lips and biting. It was wet and it was new. It was sharing while with holding all emotion inside.

The only thing you shared was the sweetness of the strawberries.

"Taste," Joel trembled as he tore himself away from your lips, some of the juice from the fruit falling from the corner of your lips. He collected it with his thumb and sucked it off. "Taste so good, darlin'."

His hips rut into you as he ground upon your clothed sore. Your legs were tense as he moved and as you tried to stay silent.

Joel almost didn't care there was a kid in their presence. "Wanna, urm, when this is over get you all the strawberries you want, yeah?"

"O-Ok," you nod, shaking.

Joel looked down at you, kissing you quick. "Get you a whole damn strawberry field and fuck you in it too."

Your leg fit around his hips, tugging him closer. "Joel-"

A quick rustle and sound of disgust had Joel scrambling up and kneeling in the mud in front of you.

"Fucking hell!" Ellie made a commotion as she sat up. "Gross! What the fuck?!"

"Ellie!" he warned.

You rolled to look at the girl that was getting up, still warm and hidden in her sleeping bag.

"Is that what you freaks do when I sleep?!"

Part two soon…

[killmesweet]

oh fuck me.

simon “ghost” riley is so fucking blunt with his words

you’re not even trying to be sexy. just sat on his couch in that worn old tank top, the one with the frayed strap and no bra underneath. your legs are curled under you, hair damp from the shower, picking at your nails and talking about some show you half-watched.

he’s not listening.

"y’re tits sit nice in that top f’yours," he says, eyes on the tv. voice low, almost lazy, like he’s commenting on the weather.

you blink at him. "what?"

"didn’t stutter, love," he says, finally turning to look. eyes dragging down your chest, slow and shameless. “reckon you wear shit like that on purpose.”

your face goes hot but he just huffs a laugh through his nose, leans back further. spreads his thighs a little wider like he’s settling in.

“saw a porno the other day. girl looked like you. sweet thing, bit mouthy. got fucked face-down in a stairwell.” he pauses. shrugs. “thought of ya.”

your jaw drops.

“what?” he says, tilting his head. “should be flattered. ain’t every day i get off twice to the same fuckin’ video.”

he grins when you throw a pillow at him. catches it. holds it in his lap.

"gonna keep wearin' that top, or y’gonna come sit here and gimme a better fuckin’ view?"

[killmesweet]

pedro pascal at cannes believer

[killmesweet]

PEDRO PASCAL 78th Annual Cannes Film Festival (May 16, 2025)

[killmesweet]

bi curious sarah as your best friend

flirty bsf!sarah— who loves calling you baby. she only uses your full name when she’s mad at you, which isn’t often. she has a hard time holding grudges when it comes to you, but anyone else? she won’t talk to them for weeks.

flirty bsf!sarah— that’s always complaining about whoever her current boyfriend is. she can’t keep a relationship longer than a couple of months, seemingly finding a reason to break up with them before it gets too serious. “he was too clingy, you know how much i hate that.”

flirty bsf!sarah— who never leaves your side. she drags you along to every party, grabbing your hand as she leads you through the crowd. she pours your drinks and holds them for you while dance on her.

flirty bsf!sarah— that kisses you once she’s a few shots deep, the taste of cherry chapstick on your lips and cheap vodka on her tongue. she acts more drunk than she is, giggling with a stumble when she pulls away. you think she won’t remember what happened in the morning.

flirty bsf!sarah— who can’t stop thinking about you. she makes excuse for it, convincing herself that it didn’t mean anything. you ask her the next day, to which she pretends she doesn’t have a clue on what you’re talking about. “was i a good kisser at least?”

flirty bsf!sarah— that smirks when you reply yes. she decides to test the waters, changing into her bikini in front of you instead of going into the bathroom. you offer to turn around for her privacy, but she insists that it’s okay for you to look. this is what friends do, right?

flirty bsf!sarah— who realizes she’s attracted to girls when she sees your body for the first time. she couldn’t help but stare at your tits, noticing the way your nipples hardened for her attention. her compliments get more direct over time. “you’re so fucking hot, baby. a man can’t handle all that.”

flirty bsf!sarah— that finally makes a move on you at a sleepover. your legs are tangled with hers under the covers, arms wrapped around eachother like it was all the both of you could do to keep warm. her fingers traced along the skin of your stomach, eventually reaching the waistband of your shorts with hesitation. “has another girl ever touched you here before?” you shook your head no. “good, then i’ll be your first.”

[killmesweet]

my breeding kink becomes stronger by the day

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 | Jackson!Joel x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec 

summary | Joel's got a superpower. Alternatively, Joel swears he can smell when you're ovulating.

author's note | @gracieheartspedro said something about joel being able to smell when you're ovulating as a joke but i am a very serious person. so serious....i swear lmao

content warning | 18+ MDNI, BREEDING KINK!!!, joel can definitely smell it on you, talks of pregnancy/future together, established relationship, established free-use, possessive!joel, he's creepin' into peepaw status (he's 58 but no defined age for reader so let your imagination run wild), mentions of joel possibly being sterile, unprotected piv, creampies for obvious reasons

word count — 2.5k

Joel could smell it on you.

At least, he liked to make you think he could.

He can, though. He swears.

He’s tapping his bare foot against the hardwood floor as he rocked gently in his recliner, glasses perched on his nose as he flipped through the Space for Dummies book Ellie had gifted him for his birthday a few months ago.

It was dark aside from the table lamp beside him, the glowing, soft orange hue wrapped around him, illuminating the side of his face as he angled the book to catch the light, unaware of your presence until your fingers were plucking the book out of his hand.

Joel offers a small noise of acknowledgement as he looks up in your general direction, welcoming the spread of your legs with his warm, open palm as you rest yourself in his lap.

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” you tell him gently, voice thick with sleep.

It was the middle of the night and not entirely out of character to find him up and busying himself with anything to keep his mind off of the fact that he couldn’t sleep, for some reason or another.

“M’right here,” he responds with a tender touch, his hand curling against the side of your neck as his thumb runs along the line of your jaw, a smile growing as you push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose where they had slipped down, “you up tryin’ to drag me back into bed?”

You laugh softly but decidedly shake your head, curling the fabric of his cotton shirt around your finger until it wrinkles, aware of his wandering hand as it glides up your thigh and under the waistband of your underwear hidden beneath the oversized sleep shirt you had worn to bed that night.

“Didn’t come down here for nothin’,” Joel teases, “whaddya need, baby?”

You two had established your dynamic months ago—you had worn Joel down quite a bit since his initial arrival, turning a hardened man into a softer, kinder version of himself. You often wondered how similar this version of him was to himself before the outbreak, wondering how long it had been since he’d felt safe enough to let his guard down.

It was simple, really.

As long as the house was empty—no Ellie and her friends, you were both fair game to take advantage of, no preamble, no questions.

Luckily, Ellie had slipped out earlier that night. The kid liked to think she was good at sneaking out, always slipping back in before breakfast—Joel and you were both aware, but you didn’t bother to make a deal out of it.

Joel wasn’t her father, as much as he tried to protect her.

You were only a friend, more than just a stranger, but you were in no position to make points or discipline a teenager who was already set in her ways.

Still, Joel often thought about the possibilities of family.

It took him a year before he opened up about Sarah, despite the scattering of pictures throughout his home, another failure in his life that he tried to avoid at all costs.

You couldn’t always tell if he meant it, but there were moments where it was all he seemed to think about, driven by a mix of desperation and lust, it was blinding.

And, he was doing it now.

Joel buries his nose into your chest, snuggling into the space as he sniffs and drags his face up and into your neck, your hand pressing against him as you giggle softly, feeling the tickle of his facial hair against your skin.

“You smell different,” He notes, his voice low, lips parted and pressed against your skin but only barely, pressing a featherlight kiss against your neck.

“Here we go,” you reply fondly, slowly adjusting yourself over his lap more firmly, centered against his slowly hardened cock, watching the fabric tent under your touch as you untie the knot at his waist, “you got some kinda superpower I don’t know about?”

“Nah,” he sighs, his lips curling into a smirk, “I just know my woman,”

Your eyebrow raises in amusement as your mouth forms into a quiet “Oh.”

“Why you came down here, ain’t it?” Joel assumes, “You achin’ baby?”

Bingo.

You nod meekly, sighing in relief as his hands curl against your hips, guiding you slowly over the bulge in his pants, enjoying the show as your eyes flutter shut and your hands grip tight against his forearms, feeling the distinct ridge of veins under your fingertips.

“Greedy as hell,” Joel comments with an air of amusement.

The roughness in his voice sends a pulse of pleasure to your core, awakening that distinct primal need inside of you.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Joel reprimands, somewhere through the distraction of his guided movements, your shirt has been removed and tossed to the floor, his lips pressing at the center of your chest and right between your breasts, “can we?”

There was never a distinction of yes or no, because Joel knew what your boundaries were.

If he had sought you in the night, buried himself inside of you to satiate his own urges, you wouldn’t complain—that was how this worked and why you worked so well.

“I ain’t lyin’,” Joel admits, looking up at you from where his mouth was centered at your chest.

“About what?” you ask curiously, brain feeling hazy and unfocused.

“You get a little sweeter,” Joel explains, pulling away to drag his finger along your sternum, “right here.”

You roll your eyes dismissively, threading your fingers through his hair to push him back against the recliner as you roll your hips in time with his own movements, moaning softly.

“And you know how much I love sweets,” he breathes, turning his head to drag his tongue along the underside of your breast before he’s moving his hands up to squeeze them.

It doesn’t take long before his hand drifts, slipping under the fabric of your underwear to circle your already swollen clit, throbbing with need.

Joel examines you carefully, listening to your breath hitch as he follows a steady rhythm until your hips begin to naturally rocking against his movement—he’s got this all down to a science, knowing exactly when to speed up and pump the breaks and you’re quickly tripping over the precipice of a much-needed orgasm, though he knows it wouldn’t satisfy you.

“I need you,” you beg with a pant, head feeling light as you come down.

“Come here then,” Joel commands softly, his tone clear as he pulls you closer, pressing his hardening length against you more prominently, a breathless gasp escapes your lips, “feel that?”

You nod again, tiredly.

“I need you too,” Joel admits, “all day—all the time…”

You both switch into auto-pilot, rising only long enough to drag your underwear down your legs while Joel shoves his sweats down far enough that his cock springs free, leaking pre-cum into the hem of his shirt as you situate yourself back over his lap.

“Just can’t get enough of ya,” he tells you, voice thick with desire as he dragged the head of his cock through your folds before guiding you down onto him, inch by tantalizing inch.

Your breath hitches, a gasp escaping your lips when he fills you completely.

You always expected the sensation to wane, but the stretch of him surprised you every time.

“Goddamn, I’m lucky,” he gumbles, throwing his head back as you slowly begin to roll your hips, his eyes dark and half-lifted with lust as he watches your face contorted in pleasure, “all mine,”

The sound of his voice—so deeply possessive—makes your heart race.

You can’t help but rock against him harder, relishing in the friction as your hands settle against the sides of his neck, breathing into his open mouth. It’s intoxicating to feel him throbbing inside you, cunt squeezing him like a vice when he grazes that sweet, too sensitive spot inside of you.

“You—you’ve been thinkin’ about it?” you ask curiously, moaning softly as your eyebrows thread together, face scrunched up as Joel reels you in closer, arm winding around your back, pressing your bare chest against him, the reclining chair rocking with your slow, but forceful rhythm. 

“About?” Joel hums, noticing the you should know look in your eye, mouth curling into a subtle smirk as one of your hands slip underneath his shirt and claw at his stomach, forcing a low groan to slip from his throat.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks with a fond, sated smile, “Raisin’ a baby with me?”

You nod silently, distinctly aware of his roaming hands and the one that squeezes at your ass, his mouth gravitating towards your tits again, this time swirling his tongue around your hardened nipple before he takes it into his mouth, thinking about how heavy they would feel in his mouth if this time were to take, if he could actually get you pregnant—he was even sure anymore.

Fifty-eight and likely shooting blanks, the chance seemed slim.

It was just another thing he couldn’t give you.

But, you had faith.

No, not in a higher power or some god.

But, him. Joel.

“God, you make me crazy,” he breathes, the warmth of his breath washing over your skin as you ride him harder, feeling him push into you deeper. 

Claiming you.

The chair creaked under the weight of your fervent need, the sound only adding to the symphony of gasps and moans slipping from your mouth as your hands press into his chest and his hands, again, find their way to your hips, keeping you rooted in place as he fucks himself into you, eager to fill your cunt.

“Wouldn’t that be a sight?” Joel begins with a broken grunt, “You’d be prancin’ ‘round this place provin’ to everybody that you’re mine—”

“And—fuck—you’d love it,” you challenge him, “you can’t even stand when guys breathe in my direct—direction, Joel,”

Joel smirks at your calculation, knowing you were correct, “Gotta let ‘em know,”

“Uh huh,” you reply breathily as the sweat on your skin collects under both the heat of the dying fire beside you and the percolating heat of your bodies as Joel leans forward and licks a line up the center of your chest to your throat before biting at your jaw to make you squeal.

He always seemed to have a second wind; a calm before the storm.

It works, his teeth nipping at your skin—incredibly thankful that the adjoining couch was only a short distance and you can both scramble towards it in a hurry, watching as Joel pulls his shirt over his head in one swift and fluid movement, carefully removing his glasses with a gentleness that contracts his heaving chest, placing them on the table before he’s kicking his pants off the rest of the way and shifting between your legs.

There’s adoration that floods your features, giggling softly as his hands twist around your thighs to pull you to him before his hands wrap around his slick-covered shaft and he’s pushing inside of you for the second time that night.

“Can’t keep lookin’ at me like that,” Joel warns through a soft cough as he settles on his knees, moving his hips at a slow pace as you tilt your head, squeezing one of the hands that rest on your thigh, “we’re gonna have a problem,”

“I think we established I am the problem,” you challenge him.

“You really want a future with me?” Joel asks candidly despite the lust so evident in his eyes, his face, the way his tongue swipes against his bottom lips as you moan softly and your grip shifts to his wrist, anchoring him to you, “Because that’s what I’m seein’ with the way you’re lookin’ at me right now,”

“Wow, all that from one look?” you tease, earning a quick snap of his hips for your obvious amusement, “Fuck—oh, I mean…ye—yeah, I do,”

You’ve had this talk countless times, wondering if Joel would ever truly believe it.

That you wanted him. Only him.

Always him.

“Yeah?” he goads, leaning forward to curl his hand around the edge of the cushion near your head as the other digs into the back of the couch, immediately fixing the angle to something much more intense, his hips working faster to drive you over the edge.

“Yeah,” you answer softly, reaching up to drag your hand against his cheek, his gaze drifting toward your joined bodies, your cunt being greedy in the way it takes him in.

 "Look at that…” Joel says in a husky, low tone that makes you shiver, “look at how your body wants this—knows exactly what it needs from me,"

You could barely speak, feeling yourself drift, offering a barely audible mumble in response.

 "I know, baby. I know,” It was like a comfort, his voice always putting you at ease, “Feels right, huh?"

“Don’t,” you gasp as Joel suddenly becomes more frantic with his pace, eyes stuck on your open mouth and arched back, “don’t—don’t stop,”

“I gotcha,” he promised, “Got you wrapped around me like this—squeezin’ me—pullin’ me in. I ain’t goin’ nowhere, sweetheart.”

“I want it,” you promise with the same intensity, “want all of this, with you.

"You’re gonna get it, baby.” Joel groans, sounding wrecked, “Gonna take every drop I give you ‘cause you’re greedy like that, ain’tcha?”

You nod instantly, two—three—four sharp thrusts before his hands are curling around your hips and holding you to him, no space between your bodies, “M’gonna stuff you so full you won’t even have to worry,”

Joel meets your gaze with fierce intensity, his dark eyes reflecting a blend of hunger and a possessiveness that bleeds true as he comes deep inside of you, feeling his cock pulse as he spills a load he had been holding back for a few days, hoping it would make a difference.

In an instant he slumps back, but not before dragging you toward him, resting against the arm of the couch as you settle into his lap again, his cock softening inside of you but neither of you threatening to move.

“Joel?” you whisper softly, legs still trembling from the intensity of your climax, your fingers tracing lazy patterns down his chest, his hand rubbing gently along the length of your spine.

“Yeah, baby?” He hums, tilting his head to look at you.

“I could go again,” you admit, earning a deep chuckle that shakes his chest and you.

“Never enough, is it?” Joel asks, leaning your head back to look at him before he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and then another, and another.

“Gotta make sure it takes,” you shrug, “breed me up, baby.”

Joel groans affectionately and throws his head back, suddenly attacked by your own share of kisses as you climb his chest to reach his face.

“God, you’re killin’ me,” he chuckles.

You raise your eyebrows in question before he cracks a playful smack to your ass.

“Go on,” he encourages, “I’ll be up in a few, breed you all damn night if I gotta,”

Until you were satisfied, at least.

Truthfully, Joel just couldn’t get enough of you either.

Too damn sweet.

[killmesweet]

eating this for breakfast lunch and dinner

“bad girls get punished”

synopsis: you tried to escape the camp, but joel decided that you needed a punishment, a very explicit lesson. word count: 2,3k warnings: +18 minors dni, mean!joel, dubcon, smut (explicit), joel slaps reader, violence, blood, forceful!joel, reader doesn't listen and it makes joel mad, detailed violent clicker scene, sex on the ground, joel continues to call reader 'mine.' please let me know if i have missed anything!

you hear a bone snap before you see anything. a sick, wet crunch from somewhere deep in the trees like someone twisted a chicken wing the wrong way, meat tearing off the bone. you freeze halfway through your step, boot caught in a knot of roots, your breath catching behind your teeth.

joel’s hand is already clamped tight over your mouth before you can scream. he shoves you down into the dirt, pinning your back with his forearm, hard enough to make your lungs stutter. “don’t make a fuckin’ sound,” he hisses low into your ear, voice like sandpaper, eyes fixed ahead. you nod or atleast try to. his fingers are calloused, digging into your cheek like he could silence your heartbeat too if he wanted.

through the gaps in the bushes, you see her. she’s young, maybe your age. younger, even. someone who thought she could sneak out, just like you did. she was barefoot, bleeding, limping—looks like she tried to run. the clicker moves slower than you thought they would. deliberate and grossly confident, its fungus-masked face jerks toward the sound of her sobbing, its legs twitching, head cocked.

you should look away. but you couldn’t because joel won’t let you. his other hand moves from your ribs to your jaw and grips it tight. keeping your face turned and your eyes on the scene unraveling just beyond the trees. 

“watch,” he says, just above a growl. “you wanna sneak outta camp? you wanna act grown?” you try to close your eyes. he presses harder, his fingers bruising. “no…keep ‘em open.”

you see the girl trip, blood gushing from her calf where something tore. you see her try to crawl. you see the clicker leap; it lands on her back, she’s screams outloud before it cuts out. her body jerks. she kicks once, then again, then nothing.

the clicker’s face buries into her neck, and the sound is worse than anything you’ve heard since the outbreak. it’s wet, sucking noises, like it’s chewing through a tendon, like it’s drinking her.

you feel your stomach heave, bile burning your throat. you cry out into joel’s palm, and he shushes you like he’s soothing you. “you need to see this,” he says, voice hoarse. “you need to fuckin’ learn.”

you’re shaking, not because of the cold or the horror only feet away. but because his breath is hot against your ear, and his body is pressed very tight against yours; which is making your cunt is wet. you’re disgusted with yourself, but he feels it. his thigh is slotted between yours. his hips are pressing down just enough while your clit is pulsing against the denim of his jeans, cruel friction. he doesn’t pull away or shift position.

you try to twist out from under him. trying to scream, or beg, or run. but his hand stays clamped around your mouth, and you go nowhere.

“she thought she knew better, too,” he murmurs, voice all gravel and guilt. “probably thought no one would notice if she slipped past the patrol.” the clicker’s still chewing. joel leans down closer, his nose brushing your temple. “they fuck ‘em, sometimes,” he whispers. “when there’s still enough brain left.”

you sob at that, your whole body trembling in his arms like a leaf underfoot. “you wanna see what that looks like? you wanna be next?” you shake your head violently, tears soaking into his palm.

he finally lets go of your mouth. his hand slides down to your throat, thumb resting over your pulse. “you scared?” he asks.

you nod making him hum low and satisfied. you hear the clicker lumbering off, dragging what’s left of her. you’re still under him, still trapped in the dirt, pants soaked through—cold, sweat, or arousal, you can’t tell anymore.

joel finally shifts his weight. his hand doesn’t move. “good,” he says. “then you’re finally fuckin’ listening?” you don’t answer. so he slaps you; a clean, backhand across your cheek that leaves your ears ringing and your teeth aching. not hard enough to knock you out—but hard enough to stun you. 

“answer me when i speak to you.” “yes” you choke out. your voice is cracked raw. “yes, joel.” 

he growls then grabs your chin and forces your eyes on his again. his pupils are blown wide. his brow is knitted with rage. lips curled, and his jaw clenched so tight you hear it pop.

“you wanna be safe?” he asks. you nod. he leans in, nose to nose now, the stench of sweat and old whiskey coming off his skin. “then you fuckin’ listen to me.”

his hand slides down. over your throat, down your chest, between your breasts. he doesn’t ask permission. you were so wet that he probably felt the heat before he touched you. his fingers glide over your belly, then down—pressing between your thighs.

he swear. “gotdamn.” your face burns with shame and need. he grips your hair and yanks your head back. “you get wet watchin’ that?” he hisses.

“no,” you whisper, but it’s a lie, and you both know it. he slaps you again. this time you moan. his mouth drops open just slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that.

his fingers slip under the waistband of your pants. your breath hitches. he finds your pussy wet and puffy. “this what you want?” he sneers. “you wanna see blood, girl? you wanna feel the difference between them and me?” you whimper. “answer.” 

“i want you,” you say, barely audible. his hand stills, then, not even a second passes before he rips your pants down in one sharp pull, cloth tearing and buttons snapping. your thighs squeezing together instinctively. “too late for modesty now,” he mutters, and forces them apart.

he doesn’t undress or ask, he just unbuckles his belt with one hand, the other still shoved between your legs, two fingers pumping into you now.

he kneels over you, thick cock already hard and angry, precum at the tip. it was large, veiny, and curved with an angry tip. bigger than anything you’ve had before. you try to speak, but all that comes out is a ragged moan.

he grabs your jaw again and turns your face to the side. pointing at the result of the clicker scene. “look over there,” he growls. “look at what they did.” you see the blood trail. a smear through the dirt. you start to cry again.

joel lines himself up, presses the head of his cock against your cunt and watches your expression twist. he doesn’t push in yet. just he holds it there. “you think this is cruelty?” he asks, tone gone strangely quiet. “you think i’m the monster?”

you don’t answer, forcing him to he slap your cunt. you jolt, crying out. it hurts, but it feels good. he pushes in, the stretch is delicious. but, your pussy wasn’t ready—your body wasn’t ready for that thick cock. you scream into your arm, biting down to muffle it.

he bottoms out anyway while your world goes white. joel leans down, lips at your ear again. “this,” he growls, “is what real protection looks like.”

he doesn't move for a second. just stays buried inside you, deep, like your cunt belongs to him now. his hand spreads wide across your belly, thumb brushing the curve where his cock is pushing you out from the inside. you wonder if he wants to feel how deep he is.

your legs twitch under him, trying to close, to pull away, but he pins them open with his knees. “no, no,” he murmurs, almost soft and sweet. “lesson ain’t done yet.”

he starts to move. pulling halfway out just to fuck back in deeper.

“feel that?” he says, breathless. “feel how deep?”  he’s all the way in, balls flush against your ass, cock splitting you open with every thrust. your slick is everywhere now—slick and dirt, mixing into something that shouldn't feel good but does. shame coils up your spine like smoke, like barbed wire.

he fucks you harder. you choke out a pleasure-filled sob. “hush now,” he grunts, teeth bared. “you wanna cry, you cry for her.” his hand moves back to your jaw, forcing your head to the side again. 

“you remember her face,” joel snarls. “you remember what happens when you think you can survive without me.” his cock slams into you as you gasp, tears leaking down your cheeks and into the dirt.

he doesn't stop. “they’ll take you like a piece of meat,” he growls, each word punctuated with a thrust. “they’ll rip you open and fuck the holes that ain’t even there yet.”

your pussy tightens at the thought. joel feels it, hears the slick slap of skin against skin grow louder. he laughs. low and mean. “you like that, baby?” he breathes. “dirty little thing, scared and wet.”

“you run off again, baby,” he says, soft like a promise, “and next time i let ‘em have you. i sit back and watch while they tear you up.” you whimper. “but not before i get mine first.”

you moan, choked and hoarse as his pace speeds up. the thrusts get faster, his balls slap against your ass, his cock driving so deep you can’t breathe.

your pussy makes that filthy sound now, every thrust louder than the last. he kisses your cheek and licks the tear off your face and growls, “that’s it…take it.”

his hand snakes under you, between your thighs again, finds your clit. you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted. “please—” you gasp as he rubs harder. two fingers circling, pressing, working your clit in tight circles while his cock fucks you raw. “please joel, let me cum.”

“you come on my cock, baby, right now.” he snarls. your body goes tight, clenching around him, your cunt squeezing like a vice.

joel groans and grabs your throat. you cum so hard your vision whites out. your hips jerk and your pussy pulses so hard around him it drags a filthy curse from his lips.

“so—fuckin’, you’re tight—” he slams in one last time, then holds. his cock twitches, and you feel his warmth. his cum spilling inside you; he was leaking out already as his hips rock slow, pushing it back in. “that’s it,” he breathes, panting. “mine now.”

he stays inside you, breathing hard, holding your neck. licking sweat off your skin; your whole body’s gone numb except for the ache between your legs and the thick stretch still buried in your pussy. joel finally pulls out and you feel your hole gape open, dripping cum.

he crouches next to you. grabs your chin again. turns your face to his. “you learn your lesson?” he asks, quiet but firm. you nod. he taps your face this time less harsh, more like a reminder. “say it.” 

“yes, joel,” you whisper. “i learned.” he grins. 

he stands, buckles his belt, eyes still on your used body. “good,” he says. “get up.” you try to move, but your legs won’t cooperate. he sighs and kneels, scoops you up like you weigh nothing. you cling to his chest. he walks past the blood trail and doesn’t even glance at it. “next time,” he says, voice low, lips against your hair, “you wander off again, the next lesson will be worse.” your cunt clenches.

he carries you like you're precious, even though you feel filthy. your pants torn halfway down your thighs, cunt leaking a mixture of his cum and your own shame onto his arm. he doesn’t flinch. his grip is so sure and possessive, one arm tucked under your knees, the other pressed firm against the sweat line of your back. your body curls into his chest without thinking. 

he doesn’t speak the whole walk back. you feel the pulse of him, steady and slow under his shirt, every step vibrating up your spine. your thighs stillache. your pussy’s still twitching, open, sensitive to the wind. every step jars you, jostles your used hole, and his cum dribbles out, warm down your ass, coating your thighs. you can feel the smear of it every time your legs shift in his arms.

and still—your body doesn’t want to leave him. that part’s worse than the rest. the part where your cunt is already sore and fucked full and yet you want more—more of him. the weight of him on top of you again, the sound of his belt hitting the dirt, the press of his hand on your throat when he growls mine through clenched teeth.

he doesn’t put you down when he reaches the edge of camp. he walks straight into his shack, boots heavy against the floorboards, one after the other, until the door creaks closed behind you. only then does he let you down. he places you on the clean mattress—draped in a wool blanket. it smells just like him. your thighs stick to the fabric when he lets go, and you wince when your pussy brushes against it.

you lie still, blinking up at the ceiling. joel stands at the foot of the bed, watching you with careful eyes. he shrugs off his jacket, then pulls his shirt over his head. you’ve never seen him bare like this before—not fully. you saw pieces of him in glimpses, in flashes between thrusts—his stomach flexing, his chest damp with sweat—but now there’s no distraction. just raw, lined muscle and thick, grizzled skin.

he leans on you and sinks onto his elbows some what like a plank. his nose brushes your cheek. his voice is soft now, terrifyingly tender. “you think i wanted to scare you?” you blink up at him. vision blurry.

he kisses your eyelid. “i wanted to teach you. i wanted you alive.” you breathe, chest heaving under him. “you’re mine now, kid.” you nod. he kisses you, not rough or harshly, and that’s the worst part because you kiss him back.

[killmesweet]

my weakness!!!!

"punishments"

tw: daddy kink, mean!rafe, smut language

your tired wrists tremble, cheek squished to rafe’s thigh, ass bare and already inflamed from the last few slaps. his hand, that broad cruel thing, ghosts over the curve of your ass again, slow like he’s savoring the heat coming from your skin.

“i told you before baby, it wasn’t my fault,” you murmur, breath hitching. “rafe, he just walked in—”

SMACK. the crack of his palm echoes off your pink bedroom walls making your hips jolt. he squeezes the fatty flesh right after. “you think i’m spanking you because topper’s a dumb fuck?” rafe’s voice groans with that twisted amusement that always gets you soaked. “no, sweetheart...i’m spanking you because you wanted him to see.”

you blink up at him, mouth parted,“w-what are yo—”

SMACK. again, harder. your toes curl into the sheets, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but your cunt pulses with every hit.

“don’t play innocent with me,” he growls, leaning down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “i read the fucking text you sent him.”

you freeze, cold shock beneath the fire across your ass.

his breath fans against your cheek. “you said and i quote, 'if you come early enough, maybe you’ll catch a little show. daddy’s rough when he drinks.'”

your stomach drops as heat floods your face and core, burning humiliation twinned with that sick thrill—he knows. of course he knew.

“please,” you whisper, tears threatening now, but your hips lift unconsciously, offering more.

“ooh so you like being my filthy little show, huh?” another smack, right on the sit spot, and you cry out, biting your lip to muffle it. “you like daddy using your holes, making you scream while our friends are in the next room.”

your fingers clutch the comforter. you want to deny it, beg, plead—anything. but all that comes out is a broken moan.

“that’s what i thought,” he says, cupping your cunt now, thick fingers sliding through your puffy folds. “fucking soaked. God, you're such a whore.”

you whimper into his thigh, thighs twitching as he teases your clit. his hand is rough, practiced, punishing and rewarding all at once. he doesn't let you grind down on it—just teases, barely-there pressure.

“you want topper to watch me fuck your brains out, sweetheart?” he croons. “want him to see what a cockdrunk mess you are?”

“n-no,” you breathe, but it’s weak..your cunt clenches around nothing, desperate.

“lie again and i’ll stuff your mouth with my belt.”

your lips tremble. your eyes flutter shut. and your hips push back, silently begging.

“that’s what i thought,” he murmurs, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back. “maybe i’ll send him a video next time. show him how daddy ruins his little slut.”

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