#*bison's block

[gugu-plum]

what the heck was that

[dislocated-thumbs]

more pathologic doodles and stuff I haven’t had the energy to do Actual big drawings . ft more of animalogic and me drawing rubin in situations

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

#and if they start talking about their kinks???#oh my god#fadel would smother bison with a pillow#like stop talking about sex with my boyfriend#you're giving him ideas#cut it out

leads me to believe there's a huge list of items the two of them are not allowed when drinking together (guns, rope, access to the internet, scraps of fabric, music that's playing, kant's tattoo gun, note apps)

Oh yeah. Fadel would probably have a whiteboard with a list of forbidden BisonStyle topics and when Bison starts saying anything on it he slaps it with his hand and has to add to it every time they come home from the bar. He has to write, No asking Style about how long he can hold his breath. No asking Style for pictures of him tied up. No asking Style to teach Kant that special trick he uses on Fadel- what the fuck is wrong with you?!

And they'd definitely be checking to make sure there are never any weapons or anything resembling weapons if they are both drinking. Style would be all too willing to let Bison teach him things and Fadel gets super jealous of that, because what do you mean Bison was teaching you how to make a cock ring out of a scarf in the bathroom????

They also learn that they team up on asshole dudes that fuck with women on the dancefloor and have to break up many fights, but Fadel secretly enjoys kicking asshole men's asses so he's fine with that particular activity.

[dandyshucks]

I MADE IT TO THE BOX

[bisonaari]

Just saw Little Big today 😍 shit concert picture as usual, I think it's a tradition at that point lol

[kelpeigh]

Yes you could, but I am extra,, and s t r e t c h

I’ve been working with draft horses for a long time. While I don’t think I’ll ever go blind to their size (you have to stay conscious for safety’s sake, if nothing else), it’s been long enough that the novelty is mostly gone. I say mostly because every once in a while I have a moment where I’ll see a draft next to a normal size object and bust out in a complete giggle fit.

Yesterday I was getting ready to ride with a friend and had one such moment, seeing our steeds tied next to each other:

On the right we have Jet, 15hh (5’)*. This is a perfectly average horse height.

On the left is Rosie, 18.2hh (6’2”)*.

*for the non horsey folks: we measure height at the withers. That’s the point where the horse’s neck meets its back.

[lilyinmysoul]

When The Night Ends

DarkJackson!Joel x F Reader

WC: 2k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected piv, somno (sorry not sorry), dubcon, dark Joel like I said, Joel is dominant, breeding kink, kinda forced breeding but she's into it, Joel palming himself

Note: This is based on a request I got, reblogs help so much. If you like it, tell me, so I can write more. If it's not your thing, shoot me a request so I know what is.

Joel isn’t sure how Jackson has so much damn alcohol, or where it all comes from, really. That hardly matters, though—all that matters is that it’s there, and he will drink it.

Regretfully, he couldn’t overdo it. He had patrols to go on, responsibilities to attend to—but nearly every Friday, without fail, he would take to the Tipsy Bison. Whether it be alone, with his brother, or the occasional patrol partner, he would be there.

You are, of course, aware of this. And even if you did have a say in the matter, it wouldn’t bother you much. There was a complete absence of a label regarding yours and Joel’s relationship; maybe it was because you both knew that he wasn’t cut out for such a role, or possibly how you knew that to bring it up would be to run the risk of disturbing a very concise system—his temper. Really, it appeared that you took what he gave you, and it seemed to be enough.

In any case, it is yet another Friday night. The double doors of the Tipsy Bison swing open, and the cool air on his skin mixes with the alcohol’s hazy embrace of his conscience, and Joel wants to see you. The winds are rough, hence why he is nearly the only man in the streets (paired with the time—it’s the dead of night). His brow furrows a bit harder when a man passes by with his son, and he begins his trek back to… wherever he finds himself. He’s too inebriated to make much sense of it. 

It had been too long, it appeared, since he’d seen you. You had noticed this too, and frankly, it seemed to be the nature of involving yourself with Joel Miller. As of late, he had increasingly withdrawn himself from your company; but tonight, he seemed emboldened in his sense of longing for you.

Although it is cold, the winter snow has since cleared, leaving only the occasional melting puddle of slush under his feet. Those same feet lead Joel all across town. He passes rows of closed up shops and blocks full of houses. Warm houses, he assumes. Houses occupied by families, maybe. Husbands, wives, children… alcohol makes him sentimental. Angry, even. He continues to trudge.

What’s interesting is that drinks seem to both aid and worsen the hole in Joel’s chest. They deliver some sort of tranquility, and also, a comparable and equally as intense sense of abhorrence. This isn’t something he contemplates as he nears his house, and when he sees it, he doesn’t slow. He continues to walk. After all, there isn’t much for him there; and so, his home is going, going, gone to a sea of other, almost identical ones. Ones with more to offer than a few half-built and boring guitars.

And when he arrives on your doorstep, it’s like second nature. He’s been here enough to know where you keep your spare key, but never long enough to find the one that opens the back door. Tiredly, he kneels and his hip pops as he reaches underneath the flower pot (he believes he gave this to you, but he really can’t remember) and slides from under it the key.

He turns the knob—not slowly or carefully, but rushedly—and it twists and opens. You had left it unlocked—God, he hates when you do that.

The door creaks open and gives way to Joel’s figure—you weren’t around to notice; it couldn’t be any earlier than midnight, and you had long since gone to bed. He fishes around on the wall in the pitch blackness for the light switch.  It takes him a moment, but he flicks it on. The kitchen is illuminated by a few twenty-year-old lightbulbs and cluttered by everything you couldn’t bother to put away. Each item thrown upon your table was a fragment of your life—not enough of which included him, which fueled his irritation.

His shoes don’t come off, and instead he climbs the stairs, his heavy boots leaving wet footprints on each step and 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 on the wood but not loud enough to wake you. His every pace is slightly swayed, his balance influenced by many glasses of whiskey, downed alone in a corner of the bar.

Your door is slightly askew, and its hinges squeal as he pushes it open. Joel’s eyes fall upon your sleeping figure, your limbs lost among the sea of blankets tossed atop your bed. Your work clothes had been haphazardly strewn across the floor, and you wore only a bra and panties. This was a spectacle of your everyday life, he realized; one that he didn’t know much about. Another pang of displeasure gnaws at his heart—he isn’t sure of its origin, but he knows that it’s disturbing him.

The way he kicks off his boots is slightly more hostile; a loud, dull noise that rings through the room. The old, hollow walls reverberate the sound, and you stir—but don’t wake. Once his old and beaten shoes rest against the wall, his feet carry him to the edge of your bed. As he takes in your sleeping face, your head resting in your hands and legs stretched wildly on the mattress, he feels almost proprietorial of you.

Only you know that Joel’s vexation often turns to arousal in your presence, and the two often blend. There is something about your still and sleeping face, the plush curves of your body made visible by your clothing (or, lack thereof)—or, it may simply be the fact that Joel is frustrated and he needs it taken care of. As he stands above you, his hand—as if on its own—snakes down to the bulge protruding from his worn jeans. His fingers rub and squeeze, his eyes running over you as you twitch and stir unconsciously. You seem to mesmerize him momentarily as he stands, his roving eyes concluding that they want more.

Soon enough, his drunkenly clumsy fingers are fumbling with his belt, pulling at its leather and clanking its buckle, pulling open the suddenly complex contraption. Next, the silver button of his jeans is popped and the zipper undone as your firm mattress dips under his weight when he sits. For a few moments, he looks at you. And with an almost uncharacteristic gentleness, his fingers reach out to touch you. The graze is tender as it glides along your side, your stomach, your chest—though maybe only an effort to adjourn your waking.

His calloused fingers reach the band of your underwear—a faded blue pair from however long ago. They roam over the soft fabric, cruising over its front and halting when they skim over the spot you like so much—it makes you tense; but your eyes don’t open. Two of Joel’s fingers trace circles for a moment. He watches your still face and glances down when your thighs squeeze. With a few more circlings, his patience has run dry and his captivation with you has turned to necessity.

He does as he can to be gradual with his movements as he lays over you on the bed, his hair tousled and his jeans halfway down. An elbow props him up, his face adjacent to yours as his glazed eyes search your closed ones. His free hand hastily frees himself from the confines of his boxers and rubs fumblingly over the damp fabric of your panties again before pushing aside its material.

His mind is slightly empty from the alcohol, and his head a bit achey, but he knows what he is doing. For no more than a split second, he looks down, aligning himself with you. He pumps his cock a few times before finally notching himself in—a hiss leaves his mouth, and as his hips begin pushing into yours, he looks back up. Your eyes are open.

Your eyes widen, surprised as sleepiness refuses you any sense of understanding.

“Shh,” Joel insists. “Baby, it’s me.” His voice tapers off when he says this, his head slouching to rest on your shoulder.

“Joel…” when his voice registers with you, familiar and low, your muscles relax a bit. “What… are you doing here?” You ask, and as soon as the question leaves your mouth, you understand its stupidity. His hips are moving now, in and out… ‘Why else would he be here?’ and you’re half asleep.

“This okay…?” he asks, but it doesn’t seem like he cares greatly about your answer; he is very much out of it. You smell it on him. On his skin, on his breath. Everywhere.

“Um, I…” His eyes are glassy and focused on yours, and his hips are getting faster. The room is black, and you’re not sure what to think, but you’re glad that he’s finally here again. The only sounds in your ears are the old radiator and the wet sound of skin on skin. “Yeah.”

His head dips to your neck, nipping and biting in a way that’s a little too primal. You wrap an arm around him, your hand resting on his back and when Joel begins to grunt, you let sounds escape your mouth, too.

“Shit…” his voice wavers, and he might be even more drunk than you thought he was. But as sloppy as his movements are, they are persistent. 

“Joel.” His name passes your lips. As a question, or as a statement, you aren’t sure. You don't get an answer. The moon outside is the only thing allowing you to see him, the accentuated lines across his face and the greys littering his hair. Your legs wrap around his hips now, seeking some sort of comfort, or reassurance.

He wasn’t ever particularly chatty during sex, but he is even quieter now. His energy, it seems, has been dedicated to pushing his hips as firmly and deeply into you as possible. He looks almost focused, determined. Or maybe distracted.

Joel is clearly working himself up. His movements rougher, his voice louder, and he’s close. You always know, with the way he tenses, the way he speaks. This is the only fact that registers in your mind; everything else is lost on you. So, when he says; “I’m not stoppin’,” you blink.

“What?”

“I’m gonna cum,” a thrust. “And I’m not pullin’ out, I’m not stoppin’.”

“Wh…” you start. A groan on both of your ends sounds when he hits a particularly good spot. You yourself are getting close now, your back arching slightly off the bed, your mind still cloudy as you try to make sense of Joel’s words.

A few of his fingers come down to rub your clit, circling onto you your own wetness before coming to rest on your stomach. His hand caresses the skin on your tummy. “Imagine that…” he mutters in an almost slurred tone. “Just imagine that.”

You look down at his hand, and then back up again. You meet his eyes, and you understand very clearly what he means. You don’t have the will to fight it–at least, you don’t think you do–so, you hold him tighter and closer, letting each thought fade from your mind as he continues to bliss you out. How he holds you so possessively, how he looks at you so rapaciously… you don’t mind at all.

A few more erratic thrusts, and you’re coming. A few more, and Joel is, too.

You hear it—a low grunt and a groan from Joel—and then you feel it; a deep, warm sensation— a release and movement of liquid that you’ve never felt before. He’s never done that. You can’t help but, in all your weariness, think about the weight of what has just taken place.

To claim you had never mulled over the thought of a child—Joel’s child—would be a lie. The thought was welcoming, sweet… but Joel was not. He was neither. What he had just made was either some kind of commitment, or a grave mistake.

“You’re mine, y’know.” He grumbles into your hair.

“Am I?” You ask.

“Y’are.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Thanks for reading! Lmk if you like

[littlcdarlin]

Into Temptation – the Outing

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

summary: Reader hasn't left Joel's side since they spent the night together. When he brings her to the Tipsy Bison days later, Tommy is pissed, and people stare at them. It should bother Joel, but it has the opposite effect. warnings: girthy juicy age gap (20 & late 50s), daddy kink (duh), overstimulation, forced orgasm (kinda sorta, consent is enthusiastic the whole time), breeding kink, praise kink, Joel calls reader “kid” or “kiddo”, dacryphilia, Joel gets off on people seeing them together, reader is really sweet

note: this Joel has me so weak in the knees I actually need to either be locked up or put down like a dog. Position inspired by that Narcos scene. You know the one. Enjoy!

For a man who likes to keep to himself, Joel sure doesn’t mind all the eyes glued to him – to you, your little hand clutching his, your torso drowning in one of Joel’s pullovers, his scent lingering all over you like some sort of sick perfume. They know what he did to you. What he will continue to do, once you’re back at his place. He took you there after your first day together at your place, because your house is still so empty – you haven’t been in Jackson long. Joel’s home smells like you now, and neither of you could come up with a good enough reason for you to go back to your place, when it’s so quiet and empty and Joel-less.

So he washed your clothes for you in the tub while you were sleeping, all fucked out, limp, and naked in his soiled sheets. This way you wouldn’t even have to go home to pick up new clothes, not for a while at least. He wouldn’t want you to be cold, though, so he gave you one of his knit sweaters to wear over your dress, and a heavy brown leather jacket. They are way too big on you of course, but for some reason they fit. Not physically, but it looks so right, you in his clothes, your hand in his, your hair still a little tangled in the back from where his hand buried itself when he kissed you right before leaving.

Truth be told, he wasn’t even keen on going to the Tipsy Bison. Hell, he went without a drink for four days and he didn’t mind a bit, your pliant body under his a pleasant distraction from all he tried to drown in whiskey. No, not a distraction – a cure. That’s what it felt like when he heard your voice, when he smelled your sweat and sweet perfume and felt you clench around him.

So no, he doesn’t mind people looking. You and him – it’s unusual, he knows that, knows how much of a pervert it makes him, but you moaned so sweetly for him, begged so politely, wanted him so bad. Unusual is the word for it, unusually good. You don’t seem to be very nervous, which validates him further. You feel safe in his hands, as safe as you did when you asked him to walk you home that first night, and if you don’t mind the looks people are giving you, he sure as hell can put up with them.

"Your friends here?"

You like to play cards in the evenings, he knows, and even though he’d rather sit down at the bar and pull you onto his lap, he’d be happy to leave you to it if it’s what you want.

"They’re on patrol, I think," you answer, eyes glued to his as the door of the bar slams shut behind you two, effectively blocking out the cold. "What day is it again?"

Jesus Christ, you don’t even know the fucking day, all perception of time lost to your endless naps after Joel made you come in various ways over the last couple of days. He feels that insatiable fire in his loins start again, even though he’s already fucked you two times today. Either you’re supplying him with the best cardio of his life, or he’ll die of heart failure any day now.

Before he can tell you the day, he feels a hand on his shoulder, and reluctantly drags his eyes away from your pretty face. He likes when it’s flushed, from the cold or from sex, he isn’t picky.

"Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, Joel?"

 Of course it’s Tommy. He saw right through Joel the first time he caught him watching you from across the bar, and came over to your place as soon as he figured out where his brother was.

Tommy’s angry face, the curses on his lips, the way his fist banged against the door frame. 

Joel, she’s twenty fuckin’ years old. There are plenty of women who’d be happy to keep you company. Just send her home, alright? She’s been in Jackson for like a minute, she doesn’t need you complicating things for her. 

But just before Tommy knocked, hadn’t you seemed so ecstatic in Joel’s arms, your body entirely relaxed? 

She’s an adult, Tommy, ’n it’s what she wants.

He heard your bare feet on the floor, was glad Tommy couldn’t see you with the door only half open, because if he turned around to look at you right then, Joel was sure he would be able to see his spent dripping out of you and the marks his lips had left all over your neck.

"Look, Tommy, it’s like this: you think you have a say in this cause of Maria’s position in Jackson, but it’s got nothin’ to do with you. At all. So back off."

Joel’s voice is quiet, he doesn’t want to cause a scene. What he wants is to have a glass of whiskey, watch the look on every man’s face in Jackson when they realize you’re sweet on him, and then go home and fuck your lights out. By the way you won’t let go of his hand, he guesses you’re not opposed to that plan either.

So he ignores Tommy and helps you out of your jacket – his jacket – for which you reward him with one of your dazzlingly sweet smiles. He watches as you take off his pullover, too, and although it fills him with a sick pleasure to think of everybody seeing you in his clothes, he’s blessed with your naked shoulders and arms instead. Immediately, his hand finds your back, right below your neck, the spot that isn’t covered by your dress. If he’s not mistaken, you shudder under his touch. God, he wants to take you to the bathroom and really make you shudder, but he’s more than testing Tommy’s patience already. His brother is watching with a deep scowl on his face, dark brows pulled tight together.

You smile at Tommy when Joel walks you over to the bar, ever sweet to everyone around you, and it makes him weak for you. You’re everything he isn’t.

"The usual, Joel?", the barkeeper asks, his eyes widening when he spots your hand holding Joel’s, the marks on your neck he forgot to conceal for you. A scarf would have done the trick, but Jesus, he likes this physical proof of how often he’s had you stretched on his cock already. It’s near primitive how much he wants to defend his territory. For a second he wonders if the kid who pestered you the night he took you home is here, and almost snorts at the idea of you and him together. What made his blood boil that night, now seems like a joke. You didn’t want a twenty-five year old kid, you wanted Joel, Daddy, with his bad back and greying hair and popping joints. Too good to be true, but true nonetheless. 

You sit down at the bar and he joins you, nodding at the barkeeper. Your leg presses into his immediately. He understands your need to be close to him, he feels the same way, so he reaches out and drags your barstool closer to his, until he can feel your body heat even through his flannel. You fingers clutch at his knee, as if there’s no other option for you but to touch him when he’s this close. He lets you, revels in the fact that you would probably let him touch you however he wanted in return.

The barkeeper gets Joel his whiskey and you your usual – Joel smiles when he realizes you’re both creatures of habit – and you clink your glass to his.

"Cheers," he says with a smile, watching your eyes that remind him so much of Bambi, and you chuckle.

"Cheers, Daddy."

It comes naturally, and it makes something deep within him stir. He doesn’t think anyone heard, but he knows if Tommy somehow got wind of what you call him, the debauched name he drags from you with strokes of his cock or fingers, or just with a smile, well, he’d probably wring his neck. He knows he should tell you not to call him that in public, but you seem so happy to be here with Joel, any thoughts of chastising you are wiped from his mind.

"You look so pretty, baby, I forgot why we ever left the house," he mutters, making you blush and laugh lightly. His eyes follow your movement when you clench your thighs and he wants to groan. Whenever he thinks it’s sick how much, how often, he wants you, you want him right back, and any doubts shrivel up inside of him. He wishes he could take you here, make everyone watch how willing you are for him, and maybe then they’d understand that there was never another outcome than this one, maybe then he’d get you all to himself again, with nobody knocking on the door after he just pumped you full of his load. He thinks you might just let him, too.

Instead, he takes a sip of his whiskey. You’re quiet, and he wonders if you’re uncomfortable, but before he can ask, you lean up and catch his lips in a kiss. God, he should really put a stop to this before his brother has an aneurysm, but you taste so sweet. It’s just a peck, but it leaves him wanting more, and he wonders how quickly you two can get away with leaving again without making people talk more than they already will.

You’re here for a reason of course, something about keeping up appearances, though the details escape him with you fogging up his brain. But he can’t steal you away completely, or people will do more than whisper and point. A pretty girl like you, not leaving the house of an old man like him – it wouldn’t be received well, and you’ve been pushing it with the last couple of days already. So, a nice public outing, where everybody can see just how content you are, and then it’s back to Joel’s bedroom. He wonders for how long he can stop going on patrols before Tommy will threaten to throw him out of town.

"You know," he mutters, leaning down so he’s sure only you can hear him, "when we get home, you’re not wearing clothes for a week, baby. Already miss you naked."

You blush violently, but a satisfied smile curls your lips upward.

"I’ll get cold," you answer, half pouting. Joel wants to feel that pout with his thumb, but doesn’t dare.

"I’ll keep ya warm, don’t worry," he answers darkly, thoughts of your sweating, exhausted body flooding his brain. There are so many things he still hasn’t done to you, like letting you suck him off, or fucking you in his lap, your back pressed against his front. A million ways he could have you, will have you, and one by one they come to him as he watches you drink your drink in a bar full of people he knows.

It doesn’t take either of you long to finish your drinks, and Joel knows it’s stupid to leave so soon again, but he can see the way you’re subtly rubbing your thighs together, how your gaze drifts over his arms, his chest, his belly, and he really can’t leave his little girl hanging when she clearly needs him. He plans on making you say it, though he knows it can’t be here.

So the two of you leave after Joel pays, you’re out the door, jackets in hand, before Tommy can stop you. Joel will deal with him later, when he’s gotten this frenzy for you out of his system.

You’re needy, hands clutching his arm as you walk through the cold, and Joel can’t help himself, he puts an arm around you and rests his palm low on your hips, so low it makes you squirm. He strokes you there, teasing you when he knows you can’t do anything about it, and you whine for him, even though you’re in the middle of the street.

"Jesus, kid, pipe down or they’ll have my head," he mutters, and you do your best to stifle any sounds his hand coaxes out of you. Despite what he said, he doesn’t stop teasing until you’re at his doorstep, and he opens the door. He doesn’t waste time kissing you, just slams the door shut and guides you to the sofa, where you lie down on your back immediately.

"Fuck," Joel curses, "look at you, baby. Thought I was gonna have to fuck you right over that barstool, that's how sweet you look."

You moan and your hands grasp at his collar, opening the buttons one by one, trying to get him naked as quickly as possible.

"Needed you so bad, Daddy, and I couldn’t tell you," you admit almost timidly.

"Oh baby," Joel answers, helping you with the buttons, "If you need Daddy to get you off, you tell me and I’ll help you out, alright? We could’ve gone to the bathroom."

His shirt is off now, and starts pulling your dress over your head.

"They would’ve known what we were up to," you breathe, half naked under Joel’s big form, your breasts exposed now.

"Shit, kiddo, they knew already," Joel groans, opening his belt buckle, "'s all over your face how bad you want this cock, bathroom or no bathroom."

You blush at his words, watching him pull down his jeans and boxers with wide eyes, and he can almost taste your desire.

"Don’t worry, baby, I like how much you need it," Joel breathes, and finally kisses you, his practiced fingers finding your panties easily and dragging them down, your hips lifting from the couch to help him.

"Yeah," you breathe against his lips, "Need you all the time, Daddy."

Something in him snaps at this admission, because part of him expects you to run out on him any day, that you’ll snap out of whatever craze you’re in and realize fucking a man almost forty years your senior can’t possibly be what you want – but you never do. You just look at him the way you are now, all doe eyed and docile, like his every whim is your command. It shouldn’t turn him on the way it does, it really shouldn’t. A better man would send you home, a stronger man would admit Tommy is right, but Joel hasn’t been good since the end of the world began, and he’s tired of being strong, so his thick fingers find your clit and he watches in awe how your head falls back, your pretty eyes rolling upwards.

"Say that again, angel," he orders gently, fingers insistent and relentless, building the pressure in your tummy with practiced ease.

"I always need you, Daddy," you whimper, hips bucking on their own accord. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve a sweet thing like you to bury himself into, to want his seed so badly you beg him for it, but he’s done questioning, and pumps his fist over his hard cock a couple of times, watching your face contorted in pleasure.

He aligns himself with your entrance, easing up on your aching clit, because he can sense your orgasm impending, and pushes into the tight heat of your body with a grunt. He stopped being careful several days ago, and although you yelp, your face splits into a satisfied smile when he fills you up, like you really have been waiting for it since the moment he pulled out of you this afternoon.

"Take my cock so well, baby," he mutters, and starts slamming into you. His pace isn’t punishing, but it’s fast and deep, after seeing you among other people, his need to stake his claim over you having grown. He wants to pump you full of his load, have it dripping out of you wherever you go, have it swelling up your belly and making it impossible for anyone to take you away from him. Surely, if you were pregnant, even Tommy would admit it’s best for you two to be together.

He fucks you into the mattress, hips snapping into yours, his belly nudging your body and the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing your clit just right. There’s no need for you to move with him, not when his pace feels so good, when it builds that coil in your stomach so unrelentingly, and soon he can feel the way you flutter and clench, that telltale sign that you’re almost there. Normally he would make you wait for it, tell you to ask for Daddy’s permission, but you were so good at the bar, didn’t want to expose just how badly you needed his cock to stretch you out, so he plans on rewarding you. There’s certain benefits to his age, like the stamina he built over the last four decades.

"Daddy," you cry, your whole body rocking with the impact of his thrusts, and he chuckles.

"'S okay, angel, you let go whenever you want to, but I’m not near done with you."

His hands roam over your body, your pebbled nipples, the column of your throat, your waist. When he presses down on your stomach, feeling himself all the way inside of you, nudging against that spot only he seems to be able to reach, you tip your head back and gush around him, a trembling mess under his big body.

"Goood girl, there we go," he mutters, but doesn’t stop even when it starts to feel like it’s almost too much and your orgasm fades. You don’t ask him to stop either, though he would, if you did. No way he’d harm you, it’s just that you seem to enjoy a little hurt.

He hoists you up and slips out of you briefly, which draws a petulant whine from your throat.

"Easy, baby, just a second," he soothes, and sits you both up so that you’re on his lap, his belly pressed against your back, and his hot breath right at your ear. His voice is so close, it might as well be inside your head.

"There you go, you quit your whinin’," he drawls, and forces his cock back into you. His arms wrap around your torso, holding you to him completely, his hips snapping upwards forcefully, your whole body rocking against his with the impact.

His right hand comes up to your neck, clutching your hair, while his other hand grabs your tit, and you’re helpless to do anything but crane your neck and grasp his large hand with your little one. Your body is overstimulated from your first orgasm, but Joel doesn’t let up, and quickly, he can feel another one building inside of you by the way you clench, the way your cries become a little more breathy.

"Gonna give your Daddy another one, sweet girl? Gonna come on this cock again? Yeah, I think you will, think you’d come as many times as I tell you to," he huffs, the vibrations of his voice sparking goosebumps on your skin.

"Yes, D-daddy," you groan, "as much as you want."

"Go on then, kiddo, let me have it."

He thrusts up particularly hard, his big arms trapping you against his wide body, engulfing you, as you shudder and whine. When you’re done, you go limp against him, barely able to hold yourself up, but Joel’s arms hold you steady, and he mouths at your neck, sucking fresh bruises onto your skin. He marvels at the way you let him fuck you like this, even when you’re spent, and speeds up his thrusts.

"One more and you’re done," he tells you, and you shake your head against him.

"I can’t, Daddy, too much," you whine, but your core clenches and trembles, and Joel knows you have it in you.

"You can take it, baby, come on, one more for Daddy."

It takes a while, this time, your body spent, but Joel has no trouble holding off spilling his seed inside of you. If he really wanted to, he could probably make you come five times before he did himself, but he wants so badly to paint your insides with his load, to have it take and watch your belly swell. And anyway, he can just fuck you again in a couple of hours, if his age allows it. The past days, you woke up in the middle of the night and begged him for it.

"Need me to talk to you?", Joel asks, when you whine and splutter, but don’t come, and you nod frantically.

"Yes you do, angel, course you do. Just listen to Daddy’s voice, alright? Doin’ so well, takin’ everythin’ I give you."

His thrusts are slower now, but deeper, grazing your cervix, his hand still clutching your hair so that your throat is exposed.

"You’re really something, baby, lettin’ an old man like me fuck you like this," he rambles, not really sure why he’s bringing up his age when surely it will make you see sense, but if anything, your whines grow louder, like his age is turning you on.

"You like that? You like letting and old man fuck you full of his cum?"

Your sweet pussy flutters around him at the mention of him filling you up, and he almost comes. His jaw is slack, mouth bumping into your neck with every thrust.

"Not an old man, Daddy," you whimper, "just you."

Joel’s hips stutter for a moment, but he quickly regains control over his rhythm.

"That’s right, baby, only I get to cum inside of you," he groans, "You want it?"

You nod, a weak twitch of your head, and usually he’d make you use your words, but you’re limp and exhausted, so he decides to let it slide.

"Alright baby, you can have it as soon as you come again for Daddy."

He can feel you actually put an effort into it, the muscles in your stomach clenching and unclenching, and the idea of you wanting his load that bad makes him curse. He can feel your body tense, can hear the way your breathing grows shallow, and then you’re crying, a real sob tearing through your chest, as you come on his cock for the third time.

He wants to praise you for it, but he just keeps punching into you, feeling your hot tears drop onto his hand and making a sick satisfaction pool in his stomach, and then he’s clutching you to his body tightly, burying himself inside of you as deeply as possible, and white hot pleasure erupts behind his eyes as his cock twitches and coats your inside with his spent. He fucks it up into you, imagines the effect it might have if he does it often enough.

You’re weak in his arms when he pulls out of you, your eyes closed, and he gently lets the two of you sink into the couch, your legs automatically wrapping around his thigh. He can feel himself drip out of you. Next time he vows to let you sleep with his cock still inside of you, so that there’s no way you won’t fall pregnant.

"Good girl," he whispers into your hair, and even in your exhausted haze, you smile, mouth half slack. He tugs you close to him, his hands tracing patterns on your skin.

Tommy is not right, he thinks, it cannot be wrong to feel as happy as he feels, as happy as you look, tucked against him and dripping onto his thigh.

[spookykoolkat]

kinktober | grateful - j.m.

kinktober day nine - cockwarming

pairing: joel miller x plus size!reader

wc: 2.17k

summary: being joel's girlfriend meant you saw sides of him no one else ever saw. one of them was how he just loved to be in your presence, to feel you, to touch you — to be buried inside of you.

warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS ARE NOT WELCOMED!!! NO AGE = BLOCKED. mentions of violence and sexual violence *if you blink you will miss it it's not a main theme!*, mentions if blood, dirty talk, p in v, cockwarming, slight somno.

an: gosh im so behind on this but i WILL catch up. i have a concert tmrw im very excited! also this one is very short, but i still love it 🥹

reblogs, likes & comments are so very appreciated i love u guys 🥹

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YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHAT it meant to be in a relationship – with joel. somehow, years after you got lost with the group you’d traveled with for months, you ended up in the midst of a bunch of men on horses pointing their guns at you. 

one of them being joel, and his brother. you were cut up, bloodied and bruised, in the freezing winter with hardly anything on. you remembered looking around you at the men that circled you, your hands raised but just barely because you had a stab wound on your left shoulder, crying. 

“please, i, i can leave just, please don’t kill me, i’ll go,” you cried frantically. 

every thought was going through your mind right now. you were half naked, shivering and near frostbite basically, the only thing warming you up would be the blood pouring from your wounds. there were only two things that could happen. 

they’ll trap you, have their way with you, then leave you for dead. or, they shoot you because they think you’re infected. 

“please don’t hurt me, i’m, i’m not infected, i swear.” you sobbed, looking down at your knees that felt numb being buried in the snow. 

you heard a shuffle, then something hit the floor, and the crunch of snow under a pair of boots. until you saw them right in front of you, and the person lowered themselves down to your height. 

the man tilted your chin up with his glove-covered fingers, and made you look at him. 

“you ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of, come on, we’ll get ya some clothes,” 

and that was it. joel was the one who kept you away from the men that stared you down like a piece of meat that day, he kept you away from tommy, who kept telling him it was a bad idea. but quickly referenced when he and ellie came into town, and they took them in like nothing. 

he kept you safe. and he let you stay with him for the time being, until you managed to find a job down at the local bar. then, the two of you kind of went your separate ways. you found a little house at the corner that tommy told joel to give you, and managed to live by yourself for the year you were there. 

joel didn’t want you on patrol routes, or to forage for things that the town needed. he needed you safe, even when he wasn’t there. 

you hadn’t talked to joel, but he managed to come to the tipsy bison every friday, sitting at the bar by himself and watching you. 

“you know,” you start as you are cleaning the beer glasses and wiping down the sticky table after closing. joel was the only one still there. 

“you come here every friday, ever since i started working here, but everyone i’ve ever heard from tells me you like to drink alone. in the comfort of your own house,” you said, wiping the bar down in front of him. 

“jus’ makin’ sure you ain’t in no trouble over here,” he mumbled behind his last drink, downing the rest of the mahogany liquid. he did a subtle look down your shirt as you wiped the bar down in circles, watching your cleavage come into view. 

you just chuckled. “i think i’ll be okay. i promise you’ll be the first one i go to if i need help.” 

that made a small smile tug on his lips. 

“let me walk ya home,” 

so he did. except he didn’t leave after that. that night, the two of you drank a little more at your place, and things got a little heated. in the midst of stretching you out for the very first time, he was whispering things you would’ve claimed were little nothings, but seemed as if he was declaring his need for you. 

“fuck baby, tell me, whose pussy is this? who else is stretchin’ ya out like this?” 

“pretty fuckin’ girl, i swear i’ll fuckin’ kill for ya, won’t let nobody come near ya,” 

“you ain’t leavin’ me, darlin’. this pussy is fuckin’ mine,” 

and you never did, and he always kept his promise. four years later, after him being the one to fix your wounds and give you clothes, a place to stay — you lived with him. ellie ended up being able to take patrol routes occasionally, moving into a small house with dina. she was even glad he had someone to look after him, to take care of him as he cared for everyone. 

joel had just came in towards the end of the night from patrolling with tommy, mumbling about how he’s sort of an idiot. you could barely hear his banter from your bedroom, ears perking up at the sound of the door opening and slamming closed.

“baby?” you called out from the bedroom as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed himself a beer. his eyes searched for you in the darkness of the living room, until he ended up walking to the back hall to the room you both slept in. 

his face softened, giving a little smile as he walked over to you and plopped on the bed next to you. the force almost made you drop the book you were reading, so you dog-eared the page and put it on the table as you turned to curl into him. 

“you smell like outside,” you said as you crinkled your nose. 

“fuckin’ tommy, stressin’ me out. he wanted t’ stay longer for maria just in case but it was a fuckin’ ghost town, nothin’ was even there, but he’s fuckin’ stubborn.” 

you just sighed and let your face rest on his chest as his arm threw over behind you, rubbing the side of your body. “well, you’re home now.” 

he sighed, taking a swig from the beer and moved to put it on the bedside table. he just threw his head back, used his forearm to cover his eyes and breathe in and out. you just looked at him, a little empathetic. 

you started to kiss his chest, the one with the dirty shirt he wore to patrol and up his body, to his neck and jaw. with the movements, you swiftly swung your leg over one side and straddled him, making his arm move and his head tilting down to get a look at you. 

you just watched him, watching you, and smiled as you sat directly on his groin. 

“i know you’re stressed, but,” you started and rubbed over his tummy and pecs, “i need you.” 

you said with lust in your eyes, and he just smirked as he watched you reach under his shirt to feel the warmth of his body. 

“my baby needs me, ‘s that right?” he asked lowly, his voice sounding raspy and gruff. his hands rested on the width of your hips, loving the way you were so curvy and plush for him.

you just nodded, and moved to where you could unbuckle his pants and try to shimmy them down with his help. after you got his pants and boxers to his knees, you spit in your hand and gripped the shaft of his half hard cock. 

“i love you,” you said as you started to feel him harden in your hands, his own hands moving to the tank top you had on and yanking the fabric down to see your breasts. 

“you know i love you, baby,” he said and reached to play with your heavy breasts, tugging your nipple and playing with both of them so he could watch them peak. 

“i’m just real tired, honey,” he started as he felt your grip on his cock soften, and watched your face turn with disappointment until he grabbed your face and made you look at him. 

“you wanna help me out, darlin’?” he asked and you nodded with your eyebrows furrowed, “alright then, come lay down right here,” 

he patted the side of the bed that you slept on, and you let go of his cock before pouting and sliding down to the side next to him. you faced the opposite direction, facing the wall as you heard him get up and start taking all of his clothes off before sliding under the blankets with you. 

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby, such a pretty fuckin’ pussy you have,” he said in your ear as he pulled you flush to his back, gripping your asscheeks before pulling one cheek apart from the other, feeling the wetness you gathered at your cunt. 

“always so wet f’ me, always so good to me,” he breathed on your neck. he felt your legs move apart so he’d have more access, and he just smiled, kissing on your shoulder. 

you didn’t know what he was planning on doing until you felt him guide the tip of his fully hard length up and down your cunt, still using one hand to move the thickness of your ass so he’d have access to your juices.

“joel,” you whined and moved your hips back to his, and finally felt his tip slip inside of you. 

“please,” you begged as he stretched you completely, feeling full even as he’s halfway. 

he lifts the blankets to watch you take him from behind, watching how his cock the was lathered with your juices as he thrusts softly into you before he bottoms out completely. 

but he doesn’t move, and instead kisses on your shoulder before going to your back, kissing there and wrapping his arm around your waist to rest on the fat of your tummy. 

“wait, joel i-” you started before he just squeezed your breast, leaving his hand to rest there. 

“mm-mm, we’re goin’ to sleep,” he said, but the feeling of his cock being buried inside of you was too distracting. you couldn’t sleep. 

“but joel,” you whined, your hand resting on top of his as you felt the heat of his breath against your neck. 

“go to sleep, i promise i’ll give you want you want baby, jus’ let me feel you like this, yeah?” he asks and you involuntarily moan a little, your movements of trying to fuck back on his cock failing. 

“i love feelin’ you like this, sweet girl. could be buried in this fuckin’ cunt for years,” he whispered as he squeezed your tit again, “you fit me so fuckin’ perfectly,” 

“i love when you fill me up, joel,” you whispered ss you hugged his arm, leaving kisses on it and making joel smile against your skin. 

“aw, my baby, loves when i just keep you on my cock, just so i can feel you. love when you keep me warm inside that little fuckin’ cunt,” he growled and you whined, trying to squirm and get some movement in. 

he just holds you tight, not letting you move. the feeling of his cock filling you to the brim made your cunt clench, and he groaned at the feeling. you felt like you were suffocating, practically feeling his cock in your throat as he just laid there behind you and kissed your skin. 

“go to sleep, baby. i promise i’ll make ya cum over n’ over til’ i gotta leave,” he said, and your heart skipped a beat at the proposition.you knew he was telling the truth, because he’s done it before. 

he’s made you soak the sheets before it even hit six in the morning, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and ravishing in it. the best thing he could ever do with his time is watch you fall apart because of him, and make you feel good. 

so, you fell asleep with him still inside of you, feeling the dull throb of his cock and your cunt mixed together, the feeling of when he would move to pull you closer because he slipped out of you a little bit. 

he craved you, even in his sleep. 

and the next morning when he woke up, he was still buried inside of you and looked at where you two connected, seeing the pool of your arousal leaking onto him, and on the bed. 

so he kept his promise, and used the newfound arousal you built up to slide out of you, and slide right back in. until you woke up, and tightened on his cock as he fucked you awake. 

joel was obsessed with you, and that meant if he could have you sitting on his cock while he did his day to day things, he would. and he’s tried. but feeling you soak him, squeeze him and cry out for him made him feel a whole other type of gratuity. 

you were grateful he was the one that took you in, he was the one that cared for you and protected you, and he was grateful that you let him walk you home that night, grateful that you only trusted him and not anyone else. 

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TAGLIST

@awilderi @nerdieforpedro @cyb3rluvvxx @joelmillers-girl @pedritoferg @bethanymccauley @dirtydianaahah

let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist!

[pedrospookie]

I like you.

summary: Jackson!Joel Miller x Eldest Daughter Reader, Just an afternoon in Jackson, Wyoming with Joel Miller.

a/n: This is (kinda) the first Eldest Daughter Reader fic among a sea of others that I am currently working on. This one is for the Eldest Daughters™️ who were left to be their own company for a long time. I mentioned in a post a few days ago that some of these stories are a little self-indulgent, and this one most definitely is. I was always a kid who was left to play by themselves and who was often treated as a second choice or plan B. This is also stemmed from hearing “i love you, but i don’t like you” growing up, especially during my teenage years. I know that we need to do the work to heal, grow and love ourselves, but we can also allow ourselves to have experiences that help us heal or at least believe/find the trust that we deserve it (because we do!). Anyway, here’s a little bit of Fix it Joel 👷‍♂️ for the Eldest Daughter. I hope you like it!

warnings: mild swearing, hints at infidelity (not Joel), the reader having some (what i feel are) ugly guilty feelings, light smoochin. Fluff.

wc: 2.3k words

It was a quiet day in Jackson, the streets filled with the chirping of birds and a lazy breeze, cartoon-like clouds drifting through the vast sky of the flat lands as people blissfully went about their day. After a tediously bitter winter, the kind that nipped at your fingers and left a lingering chill for anyone who dared to venture into the tundra, the burning sun and fragrant blossoms thawed the people of Jackson, casting a much needed warmth and sense of serenity over the sleepy town of survivors.

Today’s patrol went without a hitch— the regular route was relatively trouble free; a few fallen branches blocking the trail and the odd foot caught in the mud posed mild inconvenience, but it was nothing compared to your life before Jackson. The river that flowed along the outskirts of the town had finally melted it’s final peaks of ice, and the meadow just past the gates to Jackson was starting to become lush with tall grass, wild flowers scattered across the soft bed like confetti. It had been weeks since an infected was spotted. The murmuring speculation across town led to a single theory; that the virus could not survive the harsh winter, allowing a decline in infected. Regardless if it is fact or fiction, you’ll take it. Especially if it meant getting home early.

While the winter may have been frosty and daunting, your heart remained warm through the tough season. A certain someone had slowly found their way into your heart, providing emotional shelter from the storm. One cozy, snowy night at The Tipsy Bison, bonding over a shared love of Fleetwood Mac and Johnny Cash, led to another cozy night sipping whiskey, and then another, and then another.

Joel’s companionship gradually seeped into your life. It was an adjustment, having lived the life of a lone wolf, even before the world ended, yet Joel filled the quiet, yearning space that sat in your chest. A space that had you had become so well acquainted with from a small age, that it felt odd to have it overflowing. From the minuscule gestures of affection, sweet words of praise, or the moments spent together in silence reading, Joel was unknowingly and steadily mending a piece of you.

The gates of Jackson groaned an achy greeting as they opened, welcoming you back into the arms of the protected city after your quiet day on the outside. The trotting footsteps crunched under the gravel roads, slowing as you approached the barn, the horses anticipating their stalls. Leaning up against the wooden frame was a familiar salt and peppered man, his broad chest and strong biceps tugging at the seems of his white shirt as his arms sat crossed on his chest.

“Welcome back, darlin’.” Joel’s thick, weathered hand reaches for yours as you dismount from your horse, waiting patiently for you to find your footing along the hay floor. Once you were firmly planted back on earth, Joel’s gentle touch brought you into him as he pressed a tender, yet eager, kiss to your lips.

“What are you doing here?” You smile against his plush lips, breaking the embrace to welcome his pleasant surprise. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I was doing some work at the barn.” Joel points behind him at the old structure before curling his fingers into your pockets and tugging you closer, his voice lowering an octave. “Y’know, the usual mending of hinges and fences and whatnot.” He presses another chaste kiss to your lips. “Thought I’d stick around for ya t’see if you were free t’night?”

“You’re just in luck,” you say with a gentle poke to Joel’s firm chest, “my schedule is clear.”

“Mmm, thought I could cook you up somethin’ nice for dinner,” his musky voice hums, a taunting edge to his voice. “Maybe split that bottle o’ pi-not that I found last week.”

“Oh, now you’re just talking dirty to me, Mr. Miller.” You feign innocence, batting your thick lashes as your gaze leisurely meets his deep, chocolaty eyes. His pupils wide and hungry, taking you all in.

“Just you wait ‘n see how filthy this mouth can be, lil miss.” Joel muses, a faint darkness rounding out his husky tone. If this was any indication of the evening Joel had planned, you were all in.

Hand in hand, the two of you made your way towards the town centre, discussing the difference between a flathead and Philip’s head, how you spotted a fox fishing along the ravine, and the latest town gossip, specifically why Nick got dragged out of The Tipsy Bison last night.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding’ me.” Joel gasps, bewildered at the juicy slice of small town gossip you’ve shared with him. “After everythin’ Melissa did for him when he got shot by those raiders?”

“I know, I know. I would have killed you.” You mutter back with a laugh, a sliver of truth in your words that is not missed by Joel.

“Rightfully so.” He agrees with a squeeze to your hand, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief of the story he’s just heard. “These fuckin’ knuckleheads don’t know a good thing if it hit ‘em square in the face.”

Your attention shifts to The Tipsy Bison, very location in which Nick had been tossed out of less than 24 hours ago, as a familiar twang calls out to you and Joel.

Tommy stood just past the swinging doors of the bar, hand reached out towards the sky offering a wave.

“Joel! The boys ‘n I are having a drink later. You should join us!” He beams, motioning Joel inside as he tosses a dish towel over his shoulder.

“Nah, s’alright Tommy. I have plans tonight.” Joel says with a wave, “Thank you though!”

“You sure? Jimmy’s back from Louisville,” Tommy’s sweet, boyish demeanour is replaced with a cheeky grin, “supposed to be bringing some good shit with him.”

“It’s okay, Joel.” You mention softly, giving Joel a gentle shrug. It was amazing that the Miller’s managed to have friends in other cities among this hellscape. While it was exciting to have been met with Joel at the barn, you felt a weird sense of guilt for holding him back with your plans. Sure, it would be disappointing if he were to rain check your evening together, but you also could understand if he wanted to spend his evening with a friend who had made the several day trek to Jackson.

Joel couldn’t quite read the look on your face, confused slightly by your words and watching the gears turning in your head. He tried to pay no mind to it, looking back at his brother.

“We have plans tonight! But tell Jimmy he still owes me a pint!” Joel’s raspy voice laughs in response. He then shifts his attention back to you; his deep, oaky eyes looking at you with a twinkle. He gives your hand another light squeeze before slowly leading you back on your path home.

The two of you continue your walk back to Joel’s house, waving politely to neighbours as you pass by the once white picket fences and attempts at flower beds that lined their front yards. Joel could sense there was something on your mind, noticing how you had suddenly fallen quiet after running into Tommy. He kept replaying what he thought was a harmless interaction over and over in his mind, eyebrows furrowing as he dissected each frame as it passed through his brain.

“Are you sure you don’t want to pop over and see your friend?” Your meek voice breaks his train of thought, immediately drawing himself to you.

“Of course I’m sure, sweetheart.” Joel smiles softly, immediately feeling relief wash over him at the simple question. “I got plans with you!” He nudges you gently with his shoulder as your pace starts to slow.

“I know,” you say, coming to a stop by the steps to Joel’s house. “But your buddy is in town, which the fact that you have a friend in these circumstances alone is a miracle, and you haven’t seen him in a while.” You sigh, pulling your hand from Joel’s to brush a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to see him…” Your voice trails out softly, catching Joel by surprise.

“Darlin’, I gave you my word.” Joel reaches back for your hand, his thumb tracing reassuring circles across the soft skin of your palm, sharing a pleading look with you. “Plus, I like hanging out with you.” His gaze softens, lifting your hand up for a kiss before slowly helping you up the steps to his house, his grip keeping you steady as you make your way up the ancient stairs.

“Those boys are nothin’ but trouble and I reckon they’d give me a headache in more ways than one. I’d always rather spend time with you.” He reassures with a wink, reaching into his pocket for his house key.

“You like hanging out with me?” A sneaking blush comes to your cheeks, the realization freezing your feet to their spot on Joel’s porch. Why did this come as such a surprise to you?

Joel thought he had been very clear that he very much enjoys spending time with you— he saw you nearly every day. He would beg for an extra five minutes in bed together, and insist on walking you home from the stables or The Tipsy Bison. There had been several occasions where Joel managed to bribe someone to switch patrol shifts with him just so he could spend his day on horseback with you. Joel loved your company— your thoughts, your ideas, your dreams, no matter how tame or wild. He could listen to you speak for hours and never grow tired. Joel had never found someone so easy to be around, someone who he could be his whole self around. Why would he not like spending time with you?

Joel looked at you in a way that was difficult to decipher. Flashes of worry, confusion and disappointment passed over his greying face, the lines around his eyes deepening as each emotion crashed over him at lightning speed as his eyes searched yours, looking for clues as to as he how you may be feeling. Maybe he did say the wrong thing earlier?

“‘Course I do, baby.” His warm, thick hands finding themselves along the contours of your face, locking your gaze with his. “I love hanging out with you.” Joel says with an assuring yet short lived smile, his expression changing to one of concern. “Darlin’, where is this comin’ from? Did I do somethin— Did I say the wrong thing?”

“No, no, honey.” You murmur gently, a small smile of your own creeping up your cheeks to ease Joel’s worry. “I just don’t want you to miss out on being with your buddies because you’re stuck with little old me.” You brush off with a laugh, attempting to look away from Joel, but his stubborn touch wouldn’t let you, coaxing you to embrace this moment of vulnerability with him.

You knew these roots had been insidiously planted decades ago, stemming from childhood, fertilized by chronic disappointment. It was something you were forced to endure for years before accepting it as your reality. It was easier to accept that you are just a convenient second option, rather than getting your hopes up to ultimately find yourself disappointed again. You didn’t mean to be this way, it ate you up inside that Joel felt that he was responsible for this fear trying to mangle it’s way out of you. He had never given you a reason to question his priorities, and as scary as it may be, you had to trust him. Trust that his priorities haven’t changed. He gave you his word.

“If I wanted to be with those idiots, I would’ve told ya ‘n worked somethin’ out.” Joel says gently yet firmly, tracing his thumb lightly across your cheek, drinking you in. A smile slowly spreads across his face as his eyes take in your features. “And guess what?” He whispers, breaking the silence, “I don’t. I want to be with you, spendin’ time with you, drinkin a bottle of pi-not and getting my ass handed to me at scrabble with you.” Joel looks shoots you a cheeky wink. “Now, I know bein’ round an old guy like myself may be a bummer, but you’re stuck with me, missy.” He clears his throat as his hands fall from your face, slowly sneaking their way into the back pockets of your jeans. “Not only do I love you, I like you a whole damn lot too. You’re stuck, whether you like it or not.” Joel shrugs playfully, his eyes softening from his playful smirk to something deep and sincere.

His words bring a faint blush to your cheeks and a growing warmth in your chest. He does so much to show up for you, but hearing those words brought you a peace that you didn’t realize you needed. Not only did Joel love you, he liked you. Quirks, baggage, humour and all. He embraced you for who you were and loved every molecule that makes you you.

“I love you, Joel.” You say softly, fighting the growing lump in your throat as you digest the kind words that he had just shared with you. “I like you too.” You add with a smirk, wiping the pooling tear from your eye.

“Good.” He says with a fondness, firmly pressing his hands against your backside to bring you closer to him. His lips meet yours in a soft, yet passionate kiss. Joel’s hungry mouth deepening the embrace as he searched for more, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his grip on your ass tightened. Your hands found their way into his salt and pepper hair, eager to let them get lost among his soft curls. Joel broke the kiss with a sigh, the desire in his eyes fighting with his sudden withdrawal from you. He slowly pulled one of his hands free from your back pocket, reaching back into his own to grab his key.

Joel slowly unlocks the door, lazily kicking the wooden structure open as he turns back to you, delicately pushing you forward with the one hand still in your back pocket.

“Now, let’s say we crack open that bottle?”

tag list: @evolnoomym @mrsmando @picketniffler @itsokbbygrl @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @slimybeth69 @marilovespedro

(I’m sorry if i’ve tagged you and you didn’t want to be! Just let me know and I’ll remove it 💕)

[dislocated-thumbs]

pathologic but bovids cause I like both of those things . part TWO !

[respectthepetty]

The Heart Killers' Colors? - Ep. 5

I'm traveling this week for very American Christmas reasons (i.e., football), but thankfully I'm a thot, so when I, in perfect health, look at my travel buddies and tell them I have a headache while rubbing my throat, they don't question where I disappear to for two to three hours, so here I am using my slutty excuse that only can be used once on this trip to watch my little gay show in peace!

And it was worth it just so I could see Pepper Keen tell JJ Thanon that he'll punish him later!

Keen better stop making heart eyes at Thanon on company time though because I don't think this will simply be an HR violation. No! Mother knows best, and her best is MURDER! She'll kill all these boys right where they sit as she is truly the only thing between these two who balance each other out (in white and black!).

I'm also glad I used my be-a-thot-to-get-out-of-group-activities pass on this show because Style was looking delicious trying to fight his good sense and his attraction to Fadel.

But I've been in love with this Black Brooder since the pilot trailer, and I too have slept with criminals, so I'd keep screwing this man if I was Style. Just like me, Style might not be the smartest, but he also isn't stupid!

Unlike his best friend!

This twink is going to be the death of him.

In multiple ways. (God, all these men are so beautiful!)

But Kant did do one smart thing and that was avoiding the camera outside of Bison's house by using a foam block to jump the gate, even though he didn't think about the very real chance there was a camera in the hidden room.

Which is why I NEED to know what Kant's true color is!

I'm still in the Kant-is-yellow-or-green corner like his spa key, but the people behind this show said he was dark blue like his cup.

And regardless of what Bison says, he is a Red Rascal, so either his favorite color is blue, and he turns red when needed,

Or he is picking up on Kant's true color and just playing the part of a docile boy as I suspect.

Bison noticed Babe's bruises, realized their female target would be more into Fadel, and knew James was following him, so unlike Kant who only noticed the exterior camera, Bison is far more observant of people and inner workings.

Every time Kant sees Bison's red side, he looks terrified, and we know he didn't actually date this Red Rascal, but only slept with him.

So I think Bison is attempting to tone down himself and his color by appearing blue.

He cares about this alleged (dark) Blue Boy.

Which is why I think he is trying to be what he thinks Kant would be interested in.

But the red is always there.

It's always around Bison, which is why I feel confident that he is a Red Rascal no matter what he wants to be.

And I think Kant is actually into it because red is always somewhere near him.

He smiled while looking at his phone when texting Bison and his shirts always have red on them, but, once again, red is also always around him in small ways!

So since he knows Bison's real color (because he does know he is a hitman), does he love him despite it?

I think he does and that these two besties are in the same swan-shaped love boat with their oddly colored couples' shirts.

Because it's clear that this (light) Blue Boy is in love with a criminal Black Brooder.

Not only did he explicitly state that he has feelings for this Black Brooder to his best friend,

But he also stepped into his true blue color this episode.

Blue Boys are loyal. They are trustworthy and provide a sense of safety, security, and calmness. So regardless of the circumstances, these two are actually in love since they are already exchanging colors.

Fadel told Style he wasn't that deep yet and he could get over Style easily, but Blue Boy Style already has Black Brooder Fadel baring parts of himself that he has had covered and buried for years. I stated Style was all flesh before, and I appreciate that the boy who doesn't mind being nude is the one to strip Fadel and expose his secrets.

Because just like his best friend, Style now knows exactly who Fadel is, yet unlike his friend who struggles with finding himself liking Bison despite Bison being a killer, Style seems to like Fadel MORE because he is the only one who finally gets to see what Fadel hides from everyone else.

So the tiny fact that their softest and most intimate moments happened at Style's place, an auto repair shop, the place where he restores beings by getting under the hood and repairing the broken parts isn't lost on me. Style wanted Kant's classic car, but he is realizing Fadel is the real classic. Style just doesn't want to get Fadel's engine revving; he wants to treat him the way a classic should be cared for.

Because a mechanic knows a classic never goes out of style.

[firstkanaphans]

I know Fadel put the earplugs in to block out Bison's music, but I'm kind of obsessed with idea that they were a necessary part of his fantasy. That he finds Style so annoying, the only way he could even get off to an image of him was by pretending he couldn't hear his voice.

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Not every story has a happy ending pt 3

But maybe ours can

The next few days felt like a messy blur. You spent the day after blocking him again in bed, memories of the nights youd spent together flooded your brain, the way his hands drunkenly held you, the hard slaps of his hips hitting your ass, the way he’d kiss down your spine after he came, like it wasnt all just because he wanted a release. It made you feel sick, love sick, actually sick, all kinds of fucked up ways. You fought constantly with your head, a part of you wanted him to sweep you off your feet, to ride off into the sunset on the back of his black and orange Kawasaki Ninja, but the other parts of you wanted to hate him. Wanted to cuss his name out, wanted to use your quirk to string him up and kick his ass, wanted to delete him from your life and never look back. But how could you? How could you punish him for indulging in his wants, his needs, you knew how it felt to be drunk and horny, and if he’d let you in to fuck him if you were drunk you knew you wouldn’t hesitate. At least you wouldn’t abandon him the morning after….

After spending the whole day in bed, moping around like you were back to being 14 again, you decided that enough was enough. You couldnt let him steal another moments happiness from you, so you decided to take a shower and try to do something, anything. You got changed and put your wet hair up into a high ponytail as you flung your shoes on, a walk in the evening light would surely help you, it always used to when Mina would force you out of your depressive cave so hell, why not give it another shot. As you laced your black trainers up, you shouted to your parents and sister that you were heading out for a sec, they hummed an ‘okay’ and a ‘be safe’ as they always did, as you opened the door and stood inhaling the warm evening breeze. Suddenly you heard the loud roar of a motor bike engine cut through the quiet street like a stampede of bison. The noise felt so out of place, so deafeningly sharp that you instantly glanced around to where it came from. There it came, someone in all black leathers was riding a distinctive black and orange bike you found familiar, then suddenly it punched you in the throat. It was him.

You backed back into the doorway as you saw it come down the road, you were hiding behind the now mostly closed door praying that he hadn’t seen you step outside as it slowly rolled down the street past the house, and continued driving. Your chest felt tight, your breath felt like it was stuck somewhere between your throat and your eyes, as you watched it pass your house. Thank fuck he didn’t remember which house was yours, right?. You stayed listening for awhile, hearing the hum of the engine disappear as the bike turned the corner at the end of your street, hearing it evaporate you opened the door again slightly, only to hear it rev back up again as the bike reversed and started coming back down your street again. You gasped and slammed the door shut, backing slowly away from it as you heard the engine pull up somewhere outside your house and then turn off. No other sounds came after you held your breath.

After a few moments you opened the door slightly, peering out as you saw him stood leaning against his bike on the other side of the street, opposite your house. As he leant against his bike his black leather jacket zipped opened slightly, revealing the smallest flash of a dark green flannel shirt ontop of a black tight compression t shirt. His leather trousers seemed worn, slightly ripped as if it had saved his skin many times from accidents. You looked up towards his face and saw him sparking a cigarette between his hands with his index finger on his right hand. As he inhaled he tilted his head back and let the smoke exhale from his lips, almost completely covering his face in a thick grey wash. As the smoke cleared, he kept his head back but peered straight at you from the corner of his eyes. His impossibly red eyes gleamed at you as you expected a smirk to slap across his face. It didn’t. He just looked at you, tilted his head back down and continued to stare at you, his face an emotionless canvas, it didnt scream anger, frustration, happiness or fear, he just stared.

You wanted to scream, slam the door and hide back in your own personal prison. You knew he wouldn’t dare try to knock, not after your dad had found you guys fooling around on your bed so many years go and nearly drowned him with his water quirk, he knew better than to approach the house. It seemed like the easiest option. But you didn’t, you froze. You held his stare as if nothing in the universe, the cosmos, could physically pull your eyes away, even from this distance you could feel the heat emanate off him, it made you shudder slightly. You opened the door slightly more and stepped out, not wanting to alarm your family, especially your dad, at the new guest who had unexpectedly arrived. You stood by your door, still holding the stare, as he was the one who looked away. This was a first, he never in his life averted his graze from a stand off, so it made the hot knot in your stomach grow deeper, almost pulling you to your knees. You slowly walked to the edge of the pavement outside your house and stood, not wanting to advance completely towards him, pretending that this meant the distance between you both was because you had willed it this way. He didn’t advance towards you, he simply readjusted his lean and leant back more comfortably on his bike, slowly taking more drags from his cigarette before flicking it out beside him.

“Why you run home?”

His eyes still glancing at the ground, dancing between the tiny rocks and lumps of gravel that laced the street as if they were tiny boulders stopping him from reaching you. It felt like a cassum between you two, an almost impossibly dangerous distance that if anyone dared try cross it, meant impending death.

“I..i didnt have a choice. It wouldn’t have stopped if I didn’t leave.”

You looked at the top of his head as he hung it low, his eyes nearly burning the ground underneath him. “And you know it wouldn’t have katsuki…”

“Maybe I didn’t want it to.” His voice sharp but low, almost guilty, admitting that he knew what he was doing and that it was wrong, but that it was intentional all this time.

“So you knew what you were doing this whole time…”

The hurt in your voice cracking slightly, your heart was now unavoidably on your sleeves, he looked up at you as it cracked, as if he could see the blood dropping from your arms.

“I never meant it to get this messy it just……i just needed…”

“And what EXACTLY did you need,hmm? Someone to run to so you weren’t alone? Someone to take care of you when you couldnt take care of yourself? Or just a pussy to use so you could get off then leave as if nothing else mattered as long as you got what you wanted…” You didn’t even try to stop the tears, you felt like he needed to see how badly he’d hurt you, how angry you were, how badly it broke your heart.

“I didn’t…” you interrupted him, shouting at him now,

“I DONT WANNA HEAR IT OKAY? I don’t want your shitty excuses, i dont want the ‘im just sad and needed someone, im too much of a prick to admit i need someone’ blah blah FUCKING BLAH. We’re not kids anymore, grow some fucking balls and tell it like it is.”

The hurt in your voice was unmistakable, you hated shouting, it reminded you of him, his anger and his violence, the way he left you alone in bed so many mornings.

“Yano what? I actually had half a mind to tell you I was pregnant last time, just to scare you shitless so youd leave me the fuck alone…”

Suddenly, you noticed the flicker of tears well in his eyes. It took you aback, you suddenly didnt have words to shout anymore. He’d never sat and taken words being thrown at him before, from anyone, and definitely not from you. He looked like a child being scolded, he knew he needed to hear it, needed to be reprimanded for his actions, but not matter how much he tried to prepare for your anger, it stung so much more than he ever thought it would’ve.

“I know I hurt you.” His eyes now glancing back to his feet. He tried to blink back the tears, clear his throat. He seemed smaller, more timid as you scolded him. Half of you wanted to assume he was doing this as some form of ploy to get you to forgive him, but the way his head hung low, his fists didnt tighten, stirred more in you, you knew he wasn’t planning anything devious. He was genuinely upset. At you, at himself, at everything and anything inbetween. You instinctively stepped towards him, and as your foot stepped off the pavement and sunk onto the street he glanced quickly up at you, his dewy lashed punched you in the gut stopping you in your tracks. You looked at him, this pitiful small boy who knew he’d hurt someone he cared about. For the first time since youd met him back in UA all those years ago, Katsuki Bakugo was quiet.

He started to walk towards you, slowly, painfully, it desperately screaming for you not to back away. You stayed still as his feet stopped in front of you, almost touching. He looked up slowly towards you, his eyebrows low, his eyes soft. You met his gaze and for a second you wanted to jump into his arms, wanted to embrace him and forgive him for everything he’d ever done, ever said, hadn’t said, wanted to say. As your eyes locked onto each others, he slowly outstretched his arm towards you and handed you his spare helmet, the one you used to wear when he first got his bike, the one that still had tiny hello kitty stickers placed over the sides of it, worn and faded the pink still clinging to them like it mattered.

The tears falling faster down your cheeks now, you took it from his hands and rubbed your thumb over the stickers, memories of your last ride together to the woods flooded your mind, the way he laughed as he sped up and you tightened your grip around his waist, the way the breeze danced through your visor and kissed your cheeks the way you wished he would, the way his voice stuttered when he told you that he wanted to just be friends and couldnt carry on being with you….you started to peel them off with the nail from your thumb, trying desperately to scrap the memories away as if them leaving the helmet meant it never happened, but his hand landed ontop of yours as a small ‘dont’ left his lips.

You pulled the helmet over your head and pulled the visor up,

“Where we going then asshole?” You huffed, trying to clear your throat as if it didnt burn from your tears.

“Where do you wanna go?” His voice shook, happy that youd agreed to join him, but terrified you were going to run as soon as you stepped foot on his bike. “Woods again? Might be nice as it’s not too dark..”

You looked around, the evening had suddenly become dim, the night rolled forward across the sky caring not for conversations, for timings or anything else. He smiled as he swung his leg over his bike, looking back and throwing his head back to invite you on. You swung your leg over and jumped, as if getting on the back of his bike was something you were made to do, as if it hadn’t been years since youd done it last. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his waist, muscle memory at its most dangerous. You loosened your grip slightly, confused at your own movements as he placed a hand over yours on his waist and pushing you more into him. He’d missed this. Missed you. Missed all the opportunity he’d ripped away from himself. He breathed deeply as he turned the engine on and pulled away slowly.

As you drove through your old home town, memories flooded your mind. He’d driven you down this road, through this town so many times. Sometimes you were giggling at each other, sometimes he would speed up slightly to make you tightened your grip around him, sometimes in silence as he was dropping you home after arguments. You tried to shake them off,but nothing was stopping them from infiltrating your mind. You leaned your head against his back as you felt him tense slightly, then relax as you kept your head there. You didn’t realise the helmets had a speaker now installed into them, until he flicked the button on the side of his, music now quietly flooding your ears. It was a slow, melodramatic song that played, the type of music he knew you loved, and never admitted to you that he always loved when youd played it. He’d also never admit to you that he’d recently made a playlist of these types of songs so he could feel somewhat close to you.

You arrived at the woods, he gestured for you to get off as he parked up. You climbed off and stood across from him, out of the way, as he lined the bike up inbetween two trees but left the lights on. You both walked to where the lights shone, illuminating a small bench you used to sit on for hours on end when you were younger. It was where youd had your first kiss, your first argument and where he’d ripped your heart out all that time ago. The lump in your throat worsened as you approached the bench, sitting in your old spot that now had been weathered, splints missing and the wood lightened from people sitting there. You briefly wandered how many kisses had been shared here, how many giggles and tears had been shed, how many hearts had broken like yours had been. He sat next to you and took his helmet off, placing it next to yours infront of you both, as the music still played, quietly but still barely audible.

Neither of you spoke for awhile, you both just staring into the water of the tiny stream dancing infront of you. He picked up a rock and skimmed it, it dancing across the water like it was aqua-phobic. You let out a small laugh as it disappeared into the distance, looking back down at your hands as they fidgeted in your lap. He placed a hand on your thigh, lightly at first, shaking slightly scared that youd move away. As it danced above your thigh you leaned slightly closer into him as he let it lay ontop of you.

“Dya remember last time we were here?” He kept his eyes on the water, his voice low and embarrassed.

“Yeah, you broke my fucking heart….jf I remember correctly.” Your voice stung slightly as it hit his ears, his face slightly frowning.

“I…i was scared. Terrified. I felt like everything was moving so fast and that….you deserved better than..me…than what I could offer you.” Youd never seen this delicate side to him before, he was usually all puns and quips, quick to insult and push feelings aside, but something had changed in him. Youd done something to him that meant he was baring his soul to you, uncomfortable and raw. You looked at how the light from his bike shon behind him, casting shadows delicately over him. He kept his eyes on the water, terrified that if he looked at you youd crack, slip through his fingers again.

“I was an idiot. I still am. I just….i just don’t know how to do this stuff I guess. Im a pussy.” His eyes darting down to his hand on your thigh and lingering there. He rubbed his thumb slightly against your jeans, desperately wanting to connect with you, praying that you could feel his sincerity, his soul, his emptiness and longing for forgiveness. You placed your hand over his and entwined your fingers ontop of his, squeezing slightly. He tightened his fingers and leaned his shoulder against yours, as you leaned your head ontop of his shoulder he placed his ontop of yours and sighed.

“I never meant for any of this…..to happen….to hurt you. I get drunk and then drunk me only wants you. He’s not scared to talk to you, to show you how he feels, show you what he wants. Sober me is a mess, all bark and no bite. “

“I know. I just…wish it was enough. I don’t think we can fix this Katsuki. Not anymore. It’s been too long.” Your voice cracked as you tried to push his love away, it didn’t seem right to accept him after everything he’d done. You didnt think that a bike ride and a confession could fix all the broken parts of your soul, not just yet anyway. You could hear him stifle back his tears, his head heavier on yours as you spoke.

“I know. Im not asking you to forgive me, im not asking you to forget all the times i wasnt there in the mornings, I just…want you to let me try.” His voice was hoarse and trembling. He was baring his soul to you, letting his uncomfortably soft side out. Praying you didnt crush it the way he crushed yours so many times. He knew he didn’t deserve kindness, he didn’t deserve you to give him the time of day, he just prayed youd give him another chance. Youd turned your head more into his shoulder and started to cry softly against him. You wanted to hate him. You wanted to. But you couldnt. You looked up at him slightly and put your hand to his cheek.

“Kats, I can’t….let you in again. It’s too painful.” He pressed his forehead to yours, brushing your tears away with his thumb.

“I know. But im going to spend every single day for the rest of my life trying to prove to you that you can, that im worth your time. That I can be what I so desperately hid away from you. I can be yours, and you can be m….” He opened his eyes, hoping youd meet his stare. You didn’t. You kept your eyes closed, terrified of letting him in, letting him think any of what he did was at any point acceptable. You tightened your eyes as your sobbed worsened.

“Just….dont break my heart again kats, I can’t take it another time.” He pressed a kiss inbetween your eyes brows, hating that you were just as stubborn as he was, but relishing in the fact you hadn’t actually said no yet.

“I’ll do whatever you want….want me to jump in that stream? Cause I will…” He pulled away from you and started walking towards the water, you laughed slightly telling him to stop but he didn’t, he promptly stood in the water, letting it crawl its way up his shins. He faced you and then immediately sat down in it, the freezing water shocking him, making him gasp.

“I wont even use my quirk to warm it up. I’ll do whatever you ask. Want me to drive my bike into…” You jumped to your feet and ran to him, throwing your arms around him and both now laying in the water. The shock of the cold didn’t even bother him anymore as it hit his back, he was just absorbed in the moment. You, clung desperately to him, kissing him, laying on him, accepting him. You sobbed through the kisses as he held you tightly against him. Finally, he felt like he had you, truly had you, and nothing in this world was going to rip you away from him. Not your dad, not the tension bubbling in your stomach from questioning if youd made the right decision, nothing. He finally had you, and he wasn’t letting you go again.

[heretherebedork]

It's Fadel barely holding himself together in Style's arms as they dance together after knowing he's been betrayed while Bison watches Kant talk to the officer with tears of anger in his eyes that reminds you that for all they call Fadel a block of ice it's Bison that will kill you without a second thought and Fadel who has everything planned out and thoughts of the future.

[xylographica]

Trying to push through art block with studies. Been needing to finally figure out how to draw bison, their shapes are so weird and I don’t feel like I can get their hair right