ultravcexxx

[ultravcexxx]

The urge to breed is overwhelming. Just the thought of bending her over and fucking her so deep and rough and filling her over and over again till she finally collapses from exhaustion is overwhelming me 😈😈😈😈.

[ultravcexxx]

Fvck. Me.

۶ৎ Mess of a man.

| Joel didn’t know why he’d let his little brother convince him a night at the bar was what he needed. But he might need to listen to him more. Smut!

[this is pure FILTH. I don’t know what came over me, I need this out my system and I need Joel in mine STAT. If you’re a minor pls don’t interact, this is not a safe space.]

Warnings; language, drinking, age gap (Joel is in his late forties, reader is 21) masturbation reference, daddy, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral (both receiving), over stimulation, come eating?let me know if I’ve missed anything

"Still haven't gotten your dick wet, huh?" was Tommy's way of greeting his brother.

Joel grumbled something, propping his foot on the coffee table in front of him. "Get lost, Tommy."

He'd thought that with his daughter, Sarah, at summer camp he'd get six weeks of peace, get work done, maybe take his daughter somewhere nice when she got back. But he forgot he had a brother and he forgot how annoying he was.

Sure, six weeks without his kid was a perfect and maybe a once-in-a-lifetime to get his dick 'wet' as Tommy put it. But he'd been out the game for years, out of practise. He wouldn't know how or who to approach.

"C'mon, what kind of brother would I be if I let you mope around alone in the house," he said, whacking Joel on the shoulder.

"A good one." Joel took a swing of his beer, watching the sport without knowing what team was doing what.

Tommy turned off the tv and snatched away Joel's beer, getting him up from the sofa. "There's a bar I know where everyone looking to get fucked goes, c'mon."

Joel decided he didn't want to know how his brother knew this place but as Tommy was already grabbing his truck keys and heading out the door. He'd be damned if he let Tommy drive his truck.

Yeah... that was why he was going...

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The bar was already loud when he and Tommy got there and ordered their beers. Joel would have one, maybe another if he was here long enough but then he'd go home and... see to himself if he had to.

It would have been nice to have something for the evening. It had been a long time and his own fist wasn't enough. He had a pick if he needed, he guessed. He wasn't immune to all the single middle aged mom's around him that would talk to him on the school drop off, invite him to one of their garden parties. Even some with rings on their fingers always lingered too long when shaking his hand or asking for some 'construction' advice.

But none of them did anything for him.

Tommy patted his brother on the back as he winked at the lady behind the bar. "See anything you like, yet?"

They'd been there... what? Ten minutes.

Then yes, he saw something he liked and his jaw almost dropped.

Tommy spotted the way he stilled and followed his gaze. "Holy shit."

You were with three girls- your friends, Joel assumed- and a guy hanging onto you, an arm draped around your hips. You were nursing a drink, laughing with your friends, tongue darting out to the straw of your cocktail.

Joel was done. He knew it immediately.

You were only twenty-one, young and beautiful and worse, Sarah's baby-sitter. Sure, his daughter was fourteen but on the late nights he had to work he didn't like to leave her alone.

Enter you. Good grades, polite, always called him Mr Miller like it wasn't the hottest thing. You stayed every night Joel needed to work, you cooked for Sarah, even ensured there was left overs for Joel and Tommy sometimes.

You'd tidy when he never asked, you never drank the beers he left for you. You were perfect.

And Joel knew, the first day you'd baby-sat his daughter over a year ago he'd made a mistake. He knew it when he watched you walk down his porch, when he started offering you lifts home and wishing you'd accept, when he had a wet dream like a horny teenager and it was you under him.

This was some cruel joke.

As if you could hear his thoughts your eyes caught over the noise of the bar. There was shock registering first and then you were dismissing your group to walk over to the Millers.

Joel gulped when he spotted what you were wearing. A tight high collared shirt, your hair pinned and the shortest skirt with heels.

Like a present to be un-wrapped...

"If it isn't the Miller brothers," you grinned.

"Hey darlin'," Tommy greeted first, reaching up to give you a small hug.

Joel's jaw clenched as you hugged him back. But Tommy was respectful, hands staying high on your body. Better than Joel would do.

You pulled away and smiled at Joel. "Mr Miller."

He nodded, taking a swig of his beer as he watched your tongue dart out in search for the straw. Fuck.

Tommy held a hand on your back. "I gotta take a leak, keep him company would you."

Joel didn't know what kind of game his little brother was playing.

"Of course," you smiled, sliding into the seat Tommy had vacated. "Don't I strive to look after the Millers."

Tommy chuckled and winked at Joel as he disappeared into the crowd.

"Hi there," he drawled.

You smiled. Maybe it was the lighting, or the alcohol, but your eyes were darker than he'd ever noticed. "Hey. Didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"Sarah's at camp," he said. He was painfully aware you knew. You hadn't been around in two weeks because he'd had no reason to ask you. Well, no appropriate reason.

"She enjoying it?" you threw a leg over yours, grazing his leg as you did.

"Think so," he said, "what about you, huh? Enjoyin' your freedom?"

You chuckle. "You know I love working for you, Mr Miller."

"Joel," he corrected you. He took a swing of his beer, watching you watch him.

"Jo-el," you draw out his name.

Something in Joel stirred, his pants couldn't be growing tighter, right? Thank god for the dim lighting.

He cleared his throat. "So this is where the kids hang out these days, huh?"

"I dunno about kids?" you said, leaning your body over slightly. "Am I a kid?"

Joel let his eyes wander down. The expanse of your legs, the skirt riding up your thighs and the way your chest rose and fell with your breath. Then slowly, he trailed back up your body. "I guess not."

Of all those times he'd watched you from the porch, you'd always looked back at him at least once, maybe twice to give a little wave as he leaned on the door. Or when you'd started accepting his lifts home and would always linger in his seat when he turned the engine off, the two of you leaning over the console and chattering a bit longer. Or when it came to staying to watch a game with him when Sarah had gone to bed when he knew you hated sport.

Of all those times he'd never let his mind wander as much as it was not.

"Tommy dragged me out," said Joel, taking more of his beer.

"He dragged you?" you chuckled. "You didn't want to come?"

"I'm glad I did," he said.

You take a longer sip of your drink, nodding. "I'm glad you did too."

Joel watched you a second as you tilted your head, a small tilt to your head. "You wanna another drink?" he asked. He wasn't even sure how much you'd had already. Was all this new look and attitude the cocktails talking?

"I should be good," you muse.

Joel decided in that moment he'd either spend the rest of the night in your company, or go home alone. "Your friends not missing you?" he didn't even want to look back at your friends maybe waiting for you. Or that guy watching you.

You also didn't care to look back. "Let them."

Joel smirked as he brought his bottle to his lips. "Atta girl."

He heard your intake of breath and felt satisfied. Your leg kicked off your other one and had grazed his, going down and down and he was sure you weren't doing this on accident. Not anymore.

"You can't say things like that," you chuckle, shuffling in your seat.

God, your thighs were pressing together tightly. Such a pretty sight...

You leaned over in your seat. "Do you know how many women would kill to hear you say that to them?"

"Well, i'm saying it to you, ain't I?"

You look at him through your lashes and Joel's legs widen to accommodate for the rising need in his crotch. It was wrong. It was so wrong. It was crossing a line. "I think I'll take that drink, if you're still offering?"

Joel nods and waved someone over to get you the same. The two of you talked a little more as you waited, your drink sliding over moments later.

"It must get lonely," you said, fingers dancing around the condensation of the glass. "That house all alone."

It seemed both of you had forgot about Tommy at that point.

The game being played between the two of you suddenly seemed real to Joel. "You tryin' to get an invite over?"

"Maybe."

You didn't miss a beat.

Joel looked at you. People were piling into the bar, music was being played but all he could focus on was you.

Your hand darted out, your fingers grazing his knee.

He looked down at his knee, where you touched him. Could you make out the dent in his jeans. "You know, i'm old enough to be your father."

"So should I start calling you daddy?"

He chocked on his beer. He managed to finish it, smirking to himself. "You got a mouth on you."

"You started it looking at me like that."

Joel rested against the bar. "I'm your employer."

You shrug. "And i'm not at work."

Joel looked around the bar and found his brother making out with a woman at the furthest end. He was sorted. "Why do you hang out here, huh kid?" if what Tommy told him was true he wasn't sure he could handle the idea of you coming here, looking out for someone that wasn't him.

You shrug. "It's a good bar, good drinks, good company usually."

"Usually?" he teased, his hands on his thighs. "You know, Tommy told me some filthy things around this place."

You lick your lips, holding back amusement. "Really?" you stand to your feet, leaning on the bar closer to him. You slot perfectly between his thighs.

His hand danced close to your hip but didn't touch you. Not yet. "People come here for one thing."

"Enlighten me, Joel."

His name from your lips made his brain fuzzy, effecting him more than any beer. But he couldn't do it, god, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Of the counter. Of how good you'd look bent over the counter, tight skirt bunched up at your hips.

But the words failed with him.

It was like you could tell, like you knew every move of his and every twitch.

You take one more sip of your drink before sliding it over the counter.

Joel watched as you got to your feet and worry rose on him. Worry he'd lose all he wanted.

"I'm going around the back, i'm going to be there for two minutes before I call an uber to go home. See you."

You meant it to. He watched you walk off, only briefly waving to your friends as you wove in and out of the people.

You were giving him two minutes to fuck over his life.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You waited, and waited for what you thought was two minutes. Truth be told you didn’t have a watch and lingering around the back of the bar probably wasn’t the greatest idea.

You could tap your foot and wait, rethinking your words and actions and hope that every time the door swung open, it would be your boss.

Joel fucking Miller. What game were you playing? More to the point, what was he doing?

Looking at you like that, carelessly letting his eyes wander as he imagined everything he wanted to do to you? You weren’t immune to his looks, his touches that lasted too long and the way he always watched you walk up to your front door, the engine only roaring once you were safe inside.

But now it seemed- faced with the ultimatum of fucking you or leaving you as nothing but his daughter’s babysitter- he was choosing the latter.

You’d really thought your lonely nights with only toys and fingers for company may have been rectified.

As you push yourself off the wall you really thought-

A sudden strong and rough hand grabbed your wrist and turned you back until you were against the wall and until lips were on yours.

You knew the scent, knew the strength of the body as Joel Miller pressed himself against you, groaning and licking into your lips.

You hands are in his hair, tugging at the curls of black and grey as you let him feel all your body, his arms caging you in and hand dragging down and down and-

"That was three minutes, sweet girl," Joel’s beard scratched your neck as he dragged his lips over your pulse.

You hold back a moan. The music in the bar was loud and the only people coming this way were the ones looking for a quick piss. Still you wanted nobody to stop this. "Wanted to give you a chance."

He nodded into your neck, biting the skin and winning a gasp from you. Joel tilted his head back, searching your gaze that only saw him. "Tell me you want this."

You nod. "I want it."

His hand cupped your cheek, thumb dragging down your bottom lip. He watched, entranced. "You’d let me down anything, wouldn’t you?" He whispered, looking as if he wasn’t all there. That some part of his mind was already fucking you against the wall.

You lower your head until you can reach the pad of his thumb, kissing the tip. "I want it."

"Oh, fuck baby," he groaned, pushing the pad of his thumb further into your mouth. Promises of things to come. "You’re gonna kill me sweet girl."

Your hand ran down his stomach until it meant the tightness of his pants and running up and down until you could feel the press of his length in your palm.

Joel indulged for a minute. His thumb in the warmth of his mouth while your other hand rubbed him right. Then he snapped back into reality as the door banged on the wall.

Not there.

Against himself, he took his thumb from you and grabbed your wrist, alerting you.

"I need your word that if we do this, Sarah doesn’t find out," he said sternly.

You chuckled. "Well I’m hardly gonna tell her I screwed her dad, am I?"

"Hey," he held one finger in front of your face, defying your smirk. "Your word, little miss, or I can drop you off home and you can watch while I take care of the problem you created."

You gulped. Maybe for a moment you forgot it was Mr Miller you were affronted with. Quickly, you nodded your head.

"Good girl," he surged forward and sucked on the bottom of your lip, his hips digging into yours. He groaned as you ground on him, nails digging into his biceps. "Feel wha’ you do to me, huh? You know how many times I’ve had to fuck my own fist and think of you?"

You practically melt at his words, leaning back into the wall. "Joel… please."

"Please what? Huh?" he taunted, rutting his clothed hips into your own, biting down on his lip as you threw your head back, moaning at the sensation. "C'mon, tell me what you want. Be a good girl and say it."

"I want you to fuck me," you whispered.

Joel scoffed. He left his hips against yours. He tutted. "I'm an old man, darlin', you're gonna have to speak up."

"Fuck me!" you all but screamed, desperation turning you into a mess.

Joel grabbed your hand and started to drag you from the alleyway, searching around as if his daughter might pop up out of nowhere.

You couldn't care less, didn't think about the group of friends you were leaving, or the guy that wanted you. Your hand circled over Joel's stomached t shirt, nails scratching as you leant into his side, lips marking up his neck.

"Fuck, baby," Joel groaned as he searched in his pocket for his keys. You joined the search, your fingers searching all around the dent in his jeans. "Fucking desperate, aren't you, huh?"

"Can't wait, Joel," you whisper in his ear, lips brushing, shivers running down his spine as you squeezed his crotch. "Please baby."

Joel grunted. He was practically shaking with the need to fuck you, to feel you against him. To have his hands wander all over you and memorise the way you moaned under him. There was so much more he wanted. Wanted to have you scream, wanted your neck bruised with his love and his back to carry the scratches from you.

He just needed.

"Fuck," he couldn't believe he was being so reckless. Couldn't believe that with a kiss and a grope you had rendered him a horny teenager. "Get in the back, babygirl."

He held open the door and practically pushed you in, climbing over you.

You jumped into his lap as soon as the door slammed shut and Joel chucked his keys somewhere to the front. Your lips worked against his, claiming it as yours and invading an unknown territory. You moaned as his tongue ran against yours and sucked it into his own mouth.

His hands were warm and large as they gripped your ass harshly, a soft slap echoing around his truck.

"You gonna let me slide my fingers into your pussy, baby?" he asked against your lips.

You moaned.

"Hey!" he grabbed your chin, pulling you back to stare at him. Your lips were already red and swollen. "You gotta talk to me baby. You want my fingers? Say yes."

"Yes please," you say, catching your breath. Your chest felt heavy, your pussy throbbing. "Please, want your fingers."

Joel smirked, finger tips brushing under the band of your skirt. "So polite."

The space at the back of his truck was small and cramped but he'd be lying if he hadn't thought about this. Hadn't thought about you in the back of his truck, cock stuffed down your throat or his face buried in your thighs.

All those times he'd taken you back, it had never been as innocent as he would let on.

But having you in his lap, begging for it, practically drooling with just his words, he had a feeling you weren't as innocent as you'd always made out to be.

Joel let the elastic of your skirt slap into place, causing you to jolt into him. As you jolted, he used the leverage of your hips to pull your skirt up and feel under you. "Jesus baby- you're soaked."

His finger slid up the cloth of your panties, collecting the dampness and smearing it.

You gasp as he presses into your pussy, pushing the cloth into you. "Joel please, I asked so nice."

"You did, sweet girl, you did," he nodded, watching as your eyes squeezed shut. "Hey- eyes on me baby, right here." He gently slapped the under part of your chin to get you to look at him as he easily hooked your panties to the side and sunk a finger in.

You hum out a moan, head tilted back.

Joel found the crevice of your neck, dragging his beard against the soft skin and relishing in the red that bloomed. "You like it? You like my fingers inside your heat? God, you're so warm."

"Like it," you nod, eyes shutting again.

Joel groaned low in his throat as he grabbed your chin and forced your forehead against his. "You keep your eyes on me, you understand me. Or i'll drop you off home. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr Miller."

"Oh-" Joel sunk his ring finger in until he was knuckle deep. "You're so good for me."

You tighten around the feel of his fingers. He's barely curling them and already you're squirming at the sound of your own slick.

"Ride my fingers, babygirl, gowan' now."

Obediently you started to move, riding his hand. His rough palm moved with you. His mouth remained open in a small 'o' as you wither against him, moaning.

Joel couldn't help the filth that spilled from his mouth. But with every clench you gave around his fingers, you didn't seem to mind.

"So good for me... such a good girl,"

"Dirty too, riding me in the back of the truck you and Sarah ride in."

"Fuck, i've dreamt of this, you look so good with my fingers stuffed inside of you."

At his encouragement you grip his shoulders, moving faster until your skirt is ridging up your hips and the little wisps of your hair are sticking to your forehead from sweat.

His thumb pressed down on your puffy and begging clit.

"Shit- ah- fuck!"

Joel's hips involuntarily bucked up to yours. "You wanna cum, sweet girl?"

You bite down on your lip, nodding and looking at where his forearm- taunt and veiny- disappeared under you.

Joel rested his head next to yours, kissing the sweat at your neck. "Tough baby, you're so dirty. Dirty girls have to do a lot of waiting till they get their reward."

Slowly, he retracts his fingers.

"Look at all this mess," he tutted, looking at how his fingers glistened with your need. He pats your hips, "up."

You fall onto the seat next to him, legs spread and head resting back on the car door.

You watch as Joel lifts his hips, un-buckling his belt as he starts to pull off his boxers and jeans. Your foot danced over to his lap but he impatiently pushes it away.

"You want to cum, don't you?" he asked, sending you a dark look. His hand grabs your ankle as you nod and kisses the bare skin above your heel. "Then behave."

The hand that you had just been riding wrapped around his cock and brought it out.

Your mouth opened as you stared at the beauty of the thing. He was big, bigger than you'd seen and bigger than you'd dare dreamed. He shone with pre-cum and your arousal as he spread what was on his fingers. His hand worked himself up and down as he relaxed back in his seat.

He looked over at you. "Eyes up here, baby."

Your gaze flicked up to him. "So pretty, Joel."

He chuckled and tugged himself. "Always knew you'd like it. God, you've no idea the things i've dreamt."

"Tell me. Please."

Joel leaned his head back, moving up and down his length slowly as he re-called every filthy dream his mind conjured. "Your hands wrapping around me. Your mouth being so warm and wet as you fuckin' choke on it. God, bet your throat's not used to a man's cock, huh? Only used to boys, ain't that right?"

He opened his eyes, peeking at you.

You'd dared closer to him, leaning over. You nodded.

"Bet that kid in there was hoping you'd give him a chance," he went on, his other hand coming up and thumb and forefinger tugging at your chin. "He didn't stand a chance as soon as you saw me, did he?"

You shake your head, shuffling closer into his side.

He jerked your head toward him. "Answer me."

"Only want you, Joel," you tell him.

You lick your lips, eyes darting from him to his leaking cock. The tip was red, begging for attention. "Can I- Can I please?"

Joel stroked back your hair. "Go on then, baby. Have a play." He stretched his arms along the back of the truck and watched to see you move.

But Joel quickly realised you didn't come around to play.

You'd always seemed so innocent- so un-knowing- when you looked after Sarah, when you helped him clean down the kitchen, when he'd offer you lifts back or to stay over you'd always blush and lower your head.

You were lowering it now, throwing your hair back over your shoulder and holding the base of him.

First, you touch him with your lips lightly and he smiles, daring not to think this might be the only time he lets you touch him like this. Your lips are so pretty and pink, swollen and wet from kissing him as you drag them along the sides.

Then you pepper kisses along the skin and start moving your hand around the base.

"You really gonna tease me?"

"Wanna take my time," you mumble into his though, kissing the skin.

Next, your hand cups his balls that were heavy with need. He wasn't exaggerating, it had been years since his last good fuck and no amount of jerking himself off to the thought of you could satisfy him. As your fingers played with his balls, rolling them around and giving them warmth and attention they craved, you made out with the tip of his cock.

You collected his pre-cum with your lips and tongue while still fondling him.

He could feel his shirt stick to him, his chest rising and falling quicker. Shittin-fuck. How was he supposed to last if this was what you were giving him?

"Easy, baby, easy," he eased you, stroking back your hair.

He knew you heard cause you were smirking then opening your mouth and taking him deep, almost all the way in one.

Joel groaned and grabbed the door. "Shit-ah-"

He didn't care if he wasn't far from the bar. Didn't care if anyone tried to get a look in through the fogging up windows. He didn't care if Tommy came by and applauded him for getting his dick wet. All he cared for was the feel of your wet mouth all the way down him, spit drooling down his cock.

You were doing so well and he wanted you to know.

"You wanna take me deep, huh?" he grunted, clutching onto your hair and holding you down. You gagged around him. He chuckled. "I'm not even all the way in there. You got room for more?"

You dragged your mouth up, taking a deep breath and nodding. You wiped your mouth from the mess you made and went in again.

This time, you took him again and again, deeper, bobbing him in your throat until he was a grunting and groaning mess. His hips moved of their own accord, shoving himself in even when there was nowhere else to go.

But the sounds of gagging, of his balls slapping against his own thighs as he moved, of the moans coming out of you were enough to almost having him finishing in your mouth. Almost.

He wanted to, boy did he, but he wouldn't, not until your cunt had swallowed him.

Joel pulled you up, letting you release him with a pop. "Want to be inside, need to be inside."

The truck wasn't the best place but it was the only place he had for you. He wished he could give you a bed, give your hours to welcome him, but Joel needed like he'd never needed. He imagined this is what starvation was, having your treat dangled in front of you.

And you were moving with him, lying down on the back seats, legs accommodating him as he slid in between you.

Joel gently pulled down your panties and stuffed them in the back of his pocket. If he was gonna have to jerk himself off to thoughts of you again, having your soaked panties was the least he deserved.

He glanced down at your swollen pussy and salivated.

Your hand trailed down, circling your clit as you moaned at the time he was taking.

Joel grabbed your wrist, bringing it up to his mouth and nipped at the skin. "Only I get to touch, yeah, babygirl?"

"Yes," you answered, breathless.

Joel loomed over you, bringing the tip of his leaking cock to smear himself over your folds. "Tommy told me somethin' real interestin'. Ask me what?"

"I don't- I don't care about Tommy, right now," you grab his shoulders, trying to pull him forward.

"He tol' me-" Joel strained, his lips brushing yours. It wasn't just your torture he wad delivering. It was his own. "He said people go to that bar to get fucked. Is that why you were there?"

For a moment you seemed shocked to hear it. Then the palm of your hand held his cheek, running over the stubble.

"Worked, didn't it?" you teased.

Joel sunk into you with ease. "Yeah."

He hid his face in your neck as you arched your back into him. 'Take it, take it,' he spoke into your skin, tattooing the words there.

"Joel-" you gasped, holding onto his back. "Fuck!"

"You're ok, baby. You're ok, babygirl," his breath was short. He needed to feel you more, the half way in wasn't enough. "Fuck, you grip me so well."

You gasp, holding him in you. "Need-need more."

"I dunno baby, you think you got it?" he teased.

"Yes, yes."

"What have I said about speaking up?"

You groan, throwing your head back on the seat. "Fuck me, please Joel!"

With a grunt loud enough to be heard outside, Joel sunk further into you. 'Shit, yeah.... fuck,' spilled from his lips as he slowly took himself out of you before sinking in all the way again.

"You feel me?" asked Joel. He held himself up over you because he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna watch you fall apart on his dick.

"Feel it, feel you everywhere," you mumble.

You really did. You felt the soft seats of his truck, smelt him everywhere. The smell of old cologne, cigarettes (though you were sure he didn't smoke) and new wood. It wasn't just his cock sinking into you but his voice as he mumbled filthy things in your ear. His hand dragged down your face, gripping your neck. Not tight enough to cut airways but tight enough to make you squeeze him.

He stuttered, "sh-shit. If you do that again I won't last," he told you. "And I want you to come first."

"Then fuck me Joel," you said, looking up at him.

Joel looked down to where he disappeared into you. You were already rocking your hips into his, desperate for something- anything. His hand pushed back some of your hair as he stared at you with something more than need. Desire. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Wasn't it? Wasn't it everything you wanted since he first laid a hand on your shoulder and led you into his home, welcoming you to his life. "Yes."

His thumb dragged out your bottom lip before his lips were smashing onto yours, wet and sloppy as his thrusts increased.

He moved his hips in and out rapidly, giving you no more time to adjust. It wasn't long before he had to release your lips to breathe.

"Ah- shit!" you yelled.

"That's it baby, be as loud as you like. Let the whole fucking street know who's fucking you," he panted. His hands were at your neck, holding the both of you steady.

"Joel!"

"Shit! You feel so good!"

Joel tugged down your top, not in the mood to care if it rips. It's not like he was letting you back in that bar. He pulled out your tits and latched onto them like a child, nipping at the nipple.

Your hand winds itself in his hair, pulling at the roots and throwing your body into his. You could feel his cock stretch you, the pain mixing delightfully with the pleasure. With every thrust he tipped you closer and closer onto the ledge and as his warm, wet mouth sucked on your nipple, the other hand squeezing and playing with the other, you knew it would be the best orgasm of your life.

"I'm gonna, arg-"

Joel licked around your nipple. "Not yet."

"Joel!"

"Hold it!"

He pushed himself up, holding onto the back of the seats as he used the position to put a foot on the ground and fuck into you harder.

The windows were steamed, your bodies slick with sweat.

The truck was fucking shaking at how hard he was moving you.

You threw a hand out behind you to hold onto the door, bracing yourself as you rocked your body into his.

Joel threw his head back, his neck stretching you and tempting you. "Best fucking pussy out there. And I've been wasting you as a babysitter."

"Yours," you mumble. He hadn't even asked and you were giving him the promise.

His lips tilted into a lobsided smirk as he leaned closer to you. "You mine, huh? All mine? My girl, my pussy?"

"Yes," you nod.

For a minute you can only hear your breaths with the sound of his hips slapping into yours.

Joel's fingers dig into your thighs and bring your leg up to wrap around his waist. "Mine," he all but growled into your chest, nipping at the skin. "Show me. Show me you're mine. Cum."

He thrusted into you hard, his thumb holding your stomach down and playing with your clit until you were coming all over his cock. 'That's it baby... all over me.... there's a good girl.... keep coming,'

Joel fucked you throughout. He had his own finish to reach but watching you fall apart, your mouth open in a silent gasp as your fingers claw into his shoulders.

He cupped your chin, smiling down at you. "You gonna help an old man out?"

You were in no state to, coming down from your highest high.

Joel cupped your ass and lifted you from the seats that were slowly soaking in both of yours juices. "Ah-" he yelled out at the new angle he was reaching, his balls heavy hitting your pussy. "Yeah- there- just there baby."

"Joel!" you yell. "S'to much."

"No it's not," he shook his head. His eyes were screwed up as sweat rolled down his cheeks. "You can take it. You know you can."

Your pussy was throbbing, squeezing him so intensely you didn't know how he was still moving.

You bit down on your lip as you watched him concentrating hard. You test the waters, wrapping your legs around his waist until your entire lower body was in his weight.

"Fuck!" Joel's jaw clenched as he looked down at you, his fingertips digging into the skin of your soft thighs until he was sure bruises would be there for only him to see. "I'm gonna... shit- Where you want it?"

"Inside, please," you mewl.

Joel looked at you, danger in his eyes. "No, baby, we can't."

You nod and squeeze his hips. "I'm on the pill."

The words were heaven to his ears.

You squeeze around him and Joel yelled out, falling atop you as he spilled out inside of you.

"Take it! Take it! Fucking let me- let me in!" he yelled, hips stuttering as he fell into you. One of your legs remained around him but the other he let drop, holding it weakly.

You were sure you were still coming down from your high as his hips stuttered on yours. You could feel every drop of him smear on your pussy and leak out.

Then Joel's fingers danced around the space his cock was softening in you, pushing it all back in.

His brows rose as he looked down, a shaking laugh coming out. "I-"

You didn't want to hear the words that came after. The regret. The 'we shouldn't have' or 'think about Sarah'. You just wanted this moment of feeling held and cared for by Joel to last a little longer.

Your lips move against his slowly, tasting the salt of sweat from the both of you on there.

He didn't push you away, he just held his lips close to yours, in small and attentive brushes. "How do you feel?" he whispered, pulling back enough to look around your eyes.

"Good," you nod, "real fucking good."

Joel chuckled and looked down. Slowly, as not to hurt you, he pulled out.

You moaned at the sudden emptiness in you, lying there to catch your breath and so you didn't have to prepare for regret in his face.

But it seemed regret was the last thing on Joel's mind.

He had no idea what kind of animal was possessing him or just how far his need went. But when he fell back against the door, listening out to the low drum from the bar, he saw your swollen cunt. Red and white. Red from how hard he'd fucked you and white from the mixture of you and him.

Something growled inside of him- maybe it was him- but before either of you understood what was happening, Joel lunged back in and spread your thigs, diving in.

You lurched up onto your elbows, looking down at him. You could see the top of his hair, his eyes closed and you could feel his nose moving around you and nudging you. "Joel, what are you- holy-"

Joel hummed into your pussy. It was heaven on his tongue, dripping into him. So sweet and all you. He'd never felt closer to a person before. Never felt such a need. He was slobbering like a damn dog over your pussy.

"What the fuck have you done to me, huh," he'd pulled back only enough so you could understand his words.

Neither of you were sure if he was talking to you or what laid between your legs.

He opened up your pussy and went in, tongue fucking into you. He was caught between wanting to push his spill back into you and eating you out till you were dry.

"Joel!" you screamed, voice breaking. "You-you can't-"

"I fucking can," he snarled. His face was being pushed into your cunt as he shook it, smearing both of you all over him.

There was nothing you could say or do before your legs trembled and you came all over his beard and lips. You didn't know what to do, whether to push him off you or pull you closer.

Joel held your hips into his mouth and groaned as he took in everything you gave him.

Every flick of his tongue had you shaking. Every time he gripped your thighs you made a noise of pleasure.

Hours might have passed since he first discovered heaven between your thighs before he pulled himself out.

His face was wet with you. It was sinful and like nothing you could ever imagine. "Look at what you've fucking done to me."

You'd made an absolute mess.

[ultravcexxx]

while im sleeping next to you in nothing but an old t shirt of yours, its 100% ok to push my leg up and stick your cock in me and have me be your little cockwarmer. i might wake up a little from the sudden movement and insertion, but if you just shush me when i try to speak and tell me to go back to sleep, im tired, i need to rest, ill trust your judgement and nod back off. my pussy will be nice and warm for you, and you can hold me close and spoon me, maybe grab at my chest a little and massage my soft tits. ill make pretty noises in my sleep as you pull at my nipples and thrust a little into my pussy, ill be having sweet dreams about you fucking me and ill squeeze a little around your cock, itll be perfect <3

[ultravcexxx]

[ultravcexxx]

need to be fucked until my brain resets & all the thoughts are replaced by how good he feels inside my tight pussy ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི

[ultravcexxx]

I’m so tight and breedable if you even care

[ultravcexxx]

true love

[ultravcexxx]

Fuck me raw but promise to pull out.

Suck on my tits while you fuck me.

Put my legs over your shoulders so you can fuck me deeper and deeper. Promise you’ll pull out, but make me beg you to breed me, over and over again.

Play with my tits, squeeze my nipples, feel my pussy pulse on your dick each time you pinch and squeeze and hurt my tits.

Just as you’re about to cum, shove your dick deep inside me and give me short, deep thrusts. Lay on top of me and tell me you’re going to cum, tell me you’re going to fill me, tell me you’re going to breed me.

Watch me panic when I realize you’re going to breed me raw and that I’m not on birth control.

Keep laying on top of me after you’ve cum so I can’t move and all I can do is let your cum fill my pussy.

And when you start to get hard again, breed me over and over again.

[ultravcexxx]

[ultravcexxx]

oh to be loved, to be adored, to be obsessed over, to be noticed, to be heard, to be touched, to be desired

[ultravcexxx]

Goals

Let ovulation brain take over and rode my boyfriend bareback. Leaned down and whispered “fuck me…fill me…put a baby in me” and before I could even cringe he instantly came so hard HIS legs were shaking. Hell yeah sir got you figured out.

[ultravcexxx]

Pretty Little Poison

Pairing: dbf!/cowboy Joel Miller X fem!Reader | W/C: ~7.2K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: None of this would have happened if you hadn’t walked into the Spur.  In that goddamn dress. In those goddamn boots. You’re all curvy hips with cherry red lips. None of it, but of course, you did. And damn if he isn’t grateful. No matter how bad his knuckles hurt, he’d do it again. Because you’re his. Your daddy might not know it yet, hell, the whole town might not know it yet, but you’re sure as fuck about to.

A/N: Welp. Like I said before, I've fallen into the hole that is Cowboys, and I fear I can't get out. Nor do I want to; the fictional cock is great down here. What is it about a cowboy that looks like he can sweep you off your feet in one second and fuck you until you forget your own name the next? Sigh. Anyway...enjoy this depravity. I know I sure did writing it.

Warnings: POV-Switching. Jealous Joel/Angry Joel. Fighting/blood. Flirting/Teasing. Light choking. Age gap but not mentioned (make it your own). Pet name (Princess). Flirting. Oral (m receiving)/face fucking. Fingering. Praise kink. Degradation if you squint. Creampie. Aftercare. Feelings. Alcohol. TLOU au. No use of Y/N. No use of daddy. Use of good girl. Reader has female sex anatomy and has slight implied feminine descriptors. Reader has long enough hair to grip, but no further details are mentioned. Let me know if I missed anything! Masterlist | Notifications | Read on AO3

JOEL 

None of this would have happened if you hadn’t walked into the Spur. 

In that goddamn dress. In those goddamn boots. You’re all curvy hips with cherry red lips.

None of it, but of course, you did. 

And damn if he isn’t grateful. No matter how bad his knuckles hurt, he’d do it again just to get you in the same position – on your knees, eyes glassy, pupils blown open wide with lust – jaw hinged open, just for him. 

Because you’re his. 

Your daddy might not know it yet, hell, the whole town might not know it yet, but you’re sure as fuck about to.

++++

The Spur is a nightmare tonight – packed to the brim.

Fridays were always wild, sure, but I’m used to watching it all unfold from the other side of the bar, whiskey in hand, not pouring it. Frank sure as hell didn’t mention that owning this place—my place now—would feel like wrangling a stampede every damn night.

And to top it off, the band’s late. No Johnny Cash soon, and I’ll have more than a crowd on edge—I’ll have a riot, or worse, an empty bar.

Thank God Tommy agreed to help out tonight, though I’m praying he spends more time serving than drinking. With him behind the bar, I can run tables, refill drinks, and handle the hundred different emergencies this place throws at me.

I tell myself to stay focused. Keep moving, keep pushing. 

Then I see it—a flash of red from a table up front.

I didn’t have to look long to know it was you. I’d recognize those red boots anywhere. Usually they’re the showstopper, but shit, not tonight. The dress you’re wearing looks like it was made for you, but the thing that’s really got my attention are those cherry fucking red lips of yours. 

God, I want to ruin them. 

With my mouth…or my cock. I wouldn’t be picky. I already had difficulty controlling my body’s reaction to you, but that was before I knew how sweet your kisses tasted, and now that I do, I’m in trouble. 

I want you so bad. 

Looking around, I take note that I might not be the only one. 

YOU 

You’ve always liked Joel a little jealous—it never took much to light that fire in him. 

Every Saturday before you left for college, when he came over for beers and pizza with your dad, you’d throw on your shortest skirt, linger at the door, fiddling with your purse just long enough to catch his eye. You loved the way his gaze would follow, the way his jaw would clench. 

And when the screen door slammed shut, you’d hear him mutter to your dad, voice low and firm, “You’re just gonna let her go out like that?”

You lived for it—the way your body would heat up, the pulse between your legs quickening as you imagined that vein in his neck bulging, that scowl on his face the next morning when he came over for coffee. 

Just stopping by, he’d say, but you really knew he wanted to see if you made it home for the night or ended up in someone else’s sheets. 

He’d try to hide it, his interest in you, but it didn’t work.To be fair, you did play a little unfair – the way you’d stretch just right as you reached for the cup on the top shelf, giving him a glimpse of the curve of your ass in your tightest black shorts. Or coming down the stairs in a silky white shirt that didn’t do much to hide your perky nipples. 

It was all just a game—innocent, fun. Girls just wanna have fun, right? And sure, Joel was devastating for a man his age—dark hair streaked with silver, skin kissed golden by the Texas sun, dusted with freckles that made your head spin. Broad shoulders that made you wonder if Doritos modeled their logo after him. 

But he was your dad’s best friend, a line you never cross, no matter how hard it was at times.

For years, it stayed that way—hot glances, stern looks, and a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

But it was all harmless, just a game.

Until last week.

You’d come home from New York, fresh degree in hand, ready to take on Austin. Unlike your sister, you knew this was home—you always intended to come back. What you didn’t expect was to be picked up by Joel at the airport after your flight landed earlier than expected. “Joel’ll get you, Sweetie,” your dad had said, stuck in the town over on job, “you still have your key, right?”

Time had passed, but the second you saw him leaning against that old truck, flannel stretched tight over those broad forearms, you knew you were still in way too deep. Years hadn’t dulled it, hadn’t even come close. Does the man ever age? You hadn’t seen him in years, and yet, somehow, he managed to get hotter while you were away. 

It didn’t take more than five minutes for you both to fall into your old patterns. Except this time felt different – dangerous, even. Why? Because you’re starting to realize that the invisible line of this is your father's best friend, he’s off limits was starting to blur. 

“Hi, Princess,” he murmured, his lips brushing your cheek in a fleeting kiss. As he drew back, his gaze lingered on your lips, a moment too long, too intense. “It’s good to have you back.” Despite yourself, warmth flooded through you at the nickname—Princess—a private endearment born the day you landed Belle in your high school's production of Beauty and the Beast. He remained the sole person who could call you that without earning a scowl.

As the truck crunched over the gravel driveway, the sound pulled you right back—back to those wild days as a 21-year-old, stirring up trouble, doing whatever it took to torment your dad’s best friend, just for the sheer thrill of watching him squirm.

You caught up on the drive home, exchanging the polite, predictable questions you'd expect from your dad’s best friend. The small talk was easy, comfortable, but then, five minutes from the ranch, he hit you with a question that threw you off balance.

"So, you still seeing that Jack fella?" His grip on the steering wheel tightened just a little, his knuckles flexing as he asked.

“John,” you corrected.

“Right, him,” he said, brushing off the name like it didn’t matter. “He treating you right?”

He glanced over at you, his soft brown eyes unreadable, but there was something deeper behind them.

“Kinda hard to treat someone right when you’re not together anymore,” you replied, casting a look at him from under your lashes.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Don’t look too pleased about that, Joel, really," you teased, but the hint of a smile deepened on his face.

“'M not. Sorry to hear it didn’t work out,” he said, his voice gentle, but the action that followed spoke louder. His hand—large and heavy—settled on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. He didn’t pull away, even when it clicked that he probably should.

“I’m not,” you said, your eyes meeting his, loaded with a meaning that needed no explanation.

The ranch came into view, the gravel road winding to the house. Silence fell between you, but it wasn’t empty—it was thick with unspoken words. The truck rolled to a stop, and you reached for the door, but before you could touch the handle, Joel was already there, pulling it open like he couldn’t wait a second longer.

His hands found your waist as he helped you down from the bed of the truck, the roughness of his calloused fingers igniting a wildfire beneath your skin. Each touch was electric, a spark that lit you up from the inside out. You’d never been touched by him like this—aside from the occasional hug. But in just the last hour, he’d kissed your cheek, caressed your thigh, and now, his hands were on your waist. What was happening?

The walk to the front door felt like torture, each step dragging out the tension, with the weight of his gaze scorching you from behind. You could feel him watching you, undressing you with his eyes, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the heat. You fidgeted with the strap of your bag, trying to keep your cool. Soon, you'd be inside the safety of home, away from whatever sexy spell had overtaken Joel Miller.

With the keys in the lock, you paused, stealing a glance over your shoulder. He stood there, devastatingly handsome in the fading light, looking like he was ready to devour you. “Well, thanks for the ride, goodnight, Jo—”

Before you could finish, his hand hooked around your belt loop, tugging you back to him with a swift pull. His voice dropped, low and rough, “Fuck it.”

In one motion, he had you pressed against the sun-warmed wood of the front door, the heat still radiating off it from the day. His hand snaked up to your throat, gently but firmly pulling you closer, and then his mouth was on yours—hot, fierce, and full of hunger. There was no tenderness, no hesitation. He took what he wanted, what you’d been offering him for years in stolen glances and teasing touches.

It was messy, breathless, and everything you’d ever imagined. When Joel finally pulled back, his chest heaving, his eyes dropped to his boots, lingering for a beat before lifting to meet yours, like he was trying to figure out what came next. 

“Welcome home, Princess,” he muttered, voice thick and low, then stepped back, leaving you there, breathless, aching, and utterly confused.

Hours later, you found yourself in your childhood room, unpacking into the same old dresser drawers, the familiarity of it doing little to calm the storm in your head. The soft buzz of your phone pulled you from your thoughts, and when you glanced at the screen, his name lit up.

That probably shouldn’t happen again.

Right. A smirk tugged at your lips as you tapped out your response. 

We’ll see about that, Cowboy.

You hit send, tossed the phone onto the mattress, and headed to the bathroom for a shower. A long, cold one.

JOEL 

Get your shit together, Miller, I internally tell myself, hoping the blood in my cock would make its way back up to my brain. 

You're at the table with a group of girls, laughing, the kind of easy, carefree laugh that makes me pause. Some of the faces are familiar, girls from town, but others are strangers. As I scan the group, I instinctively search for Cleo—your best friend since sixth grade—but she's nowhere to be found. Odd, considering you two are usually joined at the hip.

That’s when I catch Tommy’s shit-eating grin from behind the bar. And sure enough, there’s Cleo, working her magic on my little brother, who's too pussy-drunk to realize he's being played. She’s got those signature fuck me eyes locked on him, and he’s falling for it—hook, line, and sinker. A bright pink sash that reads "Birthday Girl" is draped across her dress as she saunters back toward your table with four drinks in hand, none of which she paid for. You and the other girls are waiting, oblivious to the little scene playing out behind the bar.

You haven’t noticed me yet, and that’s perfect. This is going to be fun.

I walk behind the bar, throwing Tommy a you know I saw that look. He does his best to play it cool, busying himself by wiping down a bottle of Bulleit, avoiding the invisible ones I’m mentally shooting his way.

I can't remember the last time I made a birthday cake shot—hell, maybe I’ve never even made one before. But screw it, it seems like the kind of thing a group of girls celebrating would want. I mean, it's got birthday in the name, right? Besides, it’ll be the perfect excuse to get closer to you, see if you’re still playing this game or if it’s time for me to make the next move.

I load the shots onto a tray and head toward your table. This was it. I had a plan—a simple, respectable plan: deliver the shots, maybe say something polite, and leave you alone for the rest of the night. But a few steps away, you catch my eye and smile, and suddenly the plan unravels. My grip on the tray falters. Fuck.

"Ladies," I say, the word falling out of my mouth before I can stop it. Great, I think, I sound like an idiot. "Heard it was someone’s birthday," I add, meaning to look at Cleo, but my eyes stay locked on you, refusing to move.

And just like that, I’m caught.

“Yeah, that’s why you’re bringing us free drinks, Miller,” Cleo fires back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I manage to tear my gaze from you, shooting her a quick look. "You know, darlin', I can take these right back," I say, trying to regain some control.

I set the tray down on the table, watching as you and your friends each grab a shot. You’re extra careful with yours, trying to avoid getting whipped cream on your fingers, but it’s no use. And I’m glued to the spot as you pop your finger into your mouth, licking it off slowly, never breaking eye contact. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was working—too damn well.

My jeans tighten, and I curse under my breath. Does everything you do have to give me a hard-on?

Cleo’s laugh cuts through the tension. "Holy shit, Joel-y, did you actually make us birthday cake shots? I didn’t know you served anything other than beer and whiskey neat."

“Yeah, well... don’t get used to it,” I reply, biting back the urge to tell Cleo to knock it off with that damn nickname. The last thing I want is to come off like a jackass in front of you.

I stand there like an idiot, watching as you and the girls clink your glasses, hit them against the table, and knock back the shots. But it’s your throat I can’t tear my eyes from—watching you swallow was a big mistake. I shift my stance, making a quick adjustment before you notice how out of sorts I really am. 

The empty glasses land back on the tray, and I grab it like it’s a lifeline. “Happy Birthday, Cleo,” I say, my voice steady, but my eyes still locked on you. Then, with a wink in your direction, I turn and walk away, fighting the urge to look back.

++++

I keep an eye on you all night. Not in a creepy way—more of a just looking out for my buddy’s daughter kind of thing. Yeah, okay, that’s bullshit. I’m watching you because you’re stunning, and I’m not the only guy in here who’s noticed. Every time some fool looks your way, I feel my jaw tighten a little more.

After the birthday shot I brought over, I noticed you pacing yourself with the drinks, which I appreciated. That is, until I spotted those little red boots of yours strutting straight for the bar. No way in hell I’m letting Tommy take your order, so I practically body-checked him to get there first.

I lean across the bar, trying to keep it casual. “What can I get you, darlin’?”

You give me a look that damn near stops my heart. “Depends. What are you willing to give me?”

I smirk, fighting the urge to say something reckless. “Whatever you can handle.”

You lean in closer, just enough for me to feel the heat between us. “Alright then. Take a shot with me.”

The boldness of your challenge catches me off guard, and it takes everything in me to stay composed. Maybe it’s the red on your lips or the fire in your eyes, but you’ve got me hooked. I grab two shot glasses, sliding them in front of us.

“Pick your poison,” I say.

“Bourbon,” you answer with that sweet-as-sin smile. Then you add, “Please,” with those damn doe eyes, and I know I’m already in trouble.

I turn, grab a bottle of bourbon from the back, and pour us both a shot, sliding yours across the bar.

“What are we drinking to?” I ask, trying to play it cool.

You raise your glass, locking eyes with mine. “Temptation, cowboy.”

Fuck.

Our glasses clink, and we throw back the shots, not breaking eye contact for a second. The bourbon burns, but all I can feel is the fire in your gaze. You hold it a beat longer before your eyes shift to the fruit tray beside me. Without a word, you reach for a cherry, slipping it between your lips—and I swear it takes every bit of self-control not to lose it right there.

Then, as if you’re trying to kill me, you bring your hand up to wipe away a drop of juice trailing down your chin. It keeps going, down to your collarbone, and I’m helpless to do anything but stare.

You don’t even notice.

And it’s all I can do to stop myself from leaning over the bar and licking it off for you.

I am so fucked.

YOU

“How much do I owe you?” you ask, tilting your head with a playful edge in your voice.

“On the house,” he replies, that sly grin curving across his lips—those perfect fucking lips.

“Are you sure?” you press, skepticism raising your brows, knowing damn well you’re pushing him.

He leans over the bar, motioning you closer with two fingers. You can smell him now, that intoxicating mix of bourbon and peppermint. His voice drops to a husky whisper, low enough that only you can hear, “You can thank me later by letting me tear that pretty little dress off of you.”

And just like that, after over a decade of teasing glances, lingering touches, a stolen kiss, a bit of red lipstick, and some bourbon—Joel Miller breaks. Finally.

You almost laugh, wishing someone had told you it would’ve been this easy years ago, but you keep your cool. You’ve played the game this long; no reason to lose your edge now.

“Thought you said nothing could happen between us again?” you tease, your voice low, your lips curling into a smirk. Gotcha.

You lean in a little more, the air between you thick with tension. “Thanks for the shot, Joel-y,” you purr, letting the nickname roll off your tongue before tossing him a wink and sauntering off, your hips swaying just enough to let him know you’ve already sealed the deal.

You know he’s watching—his eyes glued to every movement you make, jaw clenched tight with frustration. He’s hot when he’s jealous, sure, but the way his jaw ticks when he’s mad? That’s got your thighs clenching and your cunt dripping. But you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

Checkmate.

JOEL

I watch as you make your way back to your table, laughing with your friends, when you bump into a guy I don’t recognize. His hand lands on your waist to steady you, and in my head, I give him two seconds to take his hands off you before I take them off for him.

Thankfully, he does. Good. It wouldn’t exactly look great for the bar owner to start picking fights in his own place, but when it comes to you, my good sense has been thrown right out the door.

I roll my shoulders back, trying to keep the jealousy simmering just under the surface, but the way that prick smiled at you has me seeing red—not the good kind of red, like those lips or boots of yours. You were polite about it, quickly apologizing and moving on without much interaction, but the way his eyes followed you pisses me off. The bar’s getting busy now, and I’ve got a hundred things to keep track of, but keeping an eye on that asshole just got bumped to the top of the list.

I glance at my watch—nearly midnight. The crowd’s drunk, rowdy, and hyped up like you’d expect on a Saturday night in a small-town country bar. Cleo knows how to draw a crowd, alright. The band’s finally playing, and it’s halfway through Big and Rich’s “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” when I notice that same guy—and his crew—have worked their way over to your table.

They’re just talking. It’s a bar; people talk. Chill out, I tell myself.

Your friends are clearly enjoying the attention, flirting it up with these guys like it’s a game. One of them is even wearing a cowboy hat she didn’t come in with, and I have to bite my tongue to stop from pulling a full dad move and telling her what that really means.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a bit of satisfaction when I see that while your friends are eating it up, you’re not. I can tell by the way you keep glancing at Cleo, leaning away, fidgeting with your straw in that nearly watered-down drink of yours.

I wander over to a nearby table, close enough to step in if I need to, and catch your eye as I do. Just then, that same guy rests his hand on your bare knee, and my spine snaps straight. You shrug him off, but he puts it right back.

Absolutely fucking not.

I’m at your table in seconds. “Hey, man, take your fucking hand off her,” I say, my voice low and menacing, the kind of tone I use when I’m really pissed.

His eyes flick up to mine, surprised, but he doesn’t move. “Now,” I growl, my patience hanging by a thread.

“Chill, old man. We’re just talking.”

“It doesn’t look like she wants to talk to you, kid,” I say, my eyes locking with yours. You’re giving me that Joel, don’t do this look, but I’m too far gone to care.

“We’re alright, aren’t we, baby?” the guy says, turning to you with a smug grin.

Baby? Not on my fucking watch. That’s it. I step in, grabbing him by the collar of his cheap shirt and yank him face-to-face with me.

“She’s not your fucking baby. Now take your friends and get the hell out of my bar.”

“You can’t be serious, man,” he stammers, eyes wide.

“As a heart attack,” I seethe, shoving him back. By now, Tommy’s made his way over from the bar, looking like he’s bracing for the shitstorm that’s about to unfold.

“Whatever, man. This place is lame, and this slut isn’t worth it,” the guy mutters, turning to walk away.

Tommy knows me too well. I see him pinch the bridge of his nose, like he’s already predicting my next move.

Before the guy can take another step, I grab his shoulder and swing, my fist connecting with a satisfying crack. The bar falls silent as bone meets bone, and the guy drops flat on the ground for a few seconds before scrambling back to his feet.

“Let’s see what you got, old man,” he snarls, coming at me with a wild swing. I catch his fist in my hand—his punch softer than the hands of someone who’s never done a day of hard work in his life—and twist his arm back.

Now standing between him and you, I make sure he’s far enough away that he couldn’t touch you if he tried. “I think you owe the lady an apology,” I say, tightening my grip until he groans in pain. “Don’t you?”

“What the fuck, man? What the hell is wrong with you?” he spits, struggling in my hold.

“Apologize,” I demand, twisting his arm harder. His eyes flash with defiance, but I squeeze tighter until the words grind out of his mouth like gravel.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, the words dripping with bitterness.

“Good. Now get the fuck out of my bar,” I say, shoving him into his friends, who look like they’re on the verge of pissing themselves.

They don’t wait for a second invitation.

“Sorry, man, we’ll get out of here,” one of the guy’s friends mutters, leading the group toward the door, clearly shaken. I almost feel bad for punching him—judging by the ache in my knuckles, I probably broke his nose—but no one gets away with talking to you like that. Not in my bar, not anywhere.

When the door finally shuts behind them, the whole place erupts in cheers. I guess when the bar owner punches someone, people assume they had it coming. But my focus isn’t on the noise around me. It’s on you.

Your arms are crossed over your chest, your eyes boring into me, clearly pissed. But I’m not about to give you the chance to chew me out in front of a crowd. Most people have already gone back to their drinks and music, the punch quickly becoming tonight's wild story.

Without a second thought, I stride over, grab you off your chair, and throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You let out a startled yelp, but I don’t miss a beat, making sure to keep that too short for its own fucking good dress of yours down so nobody gets a free show.

This has gone on long enough. You’re mine, and I’m done pretending otherwise. And tonight, I’m going to make sure you know it.

“Joel Miller, I swear to God, put me down! Are you out of your mind?”

“No can do, Princess,” I say, walking through the bar with you draped over my shoulder. Your fists pound against my back like you think it'll make a difference. Cute.

“You’re insane!”

“Yeah, well, you have a way of driving me there.”

“What are you talking about? Put me down!” Your protests are loud, but I ignore them. I don’t set you down until we’re in my office, the door slamming shut behind us. I lock it with a sharp click before lowering you to the ground. The second your feet hit the floor, you shove me hard.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Joel? You can’t just go around punching people when they talk to me.”

“He touched you first,” I growl.

“This isn’t some fucking romance novel! I don’t need you swooping in to ‘save’ me from some creep at the bar. I can handle myself.” You’re glaring at me, fire blazing in your eyes. Exactly how I like it.

“I know you can.”

“Then why the hell did you just assault one of your own customers?”

I grab your waist, pinning you to the door before you can react. My lips brush down the column of your neck, my hand following until I claim your mouth with a fierce kiss. I pull back, tilting your chin so you’re forced to meet my gaze.

“Because, Princess, seeing him touch you made me fucking lose it,” I growl, my breath hot against your skin. “You drive me insane.”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, anger flickering into something darker, more dangerous. “Joel, you can’t—” you stammer, but the words falter.

My other hand slides up your thigh, slipping beneath your dress. The soft skin under my fingers drives me wild. “Why not?”

“Because… hitting people is wrong. This… this is wrong. I’m your best friend’s daughter,” you manage, voice shaky.

“Because hitting people is bad. This is bad. I’m your best friends daughter.” I chuckled and moved my hand further up your dress to your panties. Or at least where they should have been. 

Fuck. 

“That may be the case, Princess. But you’re not a little girl anymore, are you? And I think it’s about time I give you a taste of your own medicine,” I say, grazing the line of your pussy lips. “You wanna know what I think is bad? You bringing this bare pussy into my bar like this.” 

I continue to tease you with my fingers, and you groan. 

Fuck. You make me insane. “She’s droolin’ for me, Princess. Shoulda told me this pussy was this juicy, and I woulda done this a long time ago,” the sound of the band drowns out everything outside of my office. It’s just us now. 

We’re not just crossing the line anymore—we’re obliterating it. We’re sprinting past, running laps around it, grinding it into the dirt with every reckless move we make, until it’s buried so deep it might as well have never existed at all.

“How long have you been like this?” 

“S–” I slip a finger into you, and you gasp. “Since I saw you behind the bar.” 

“Yeah? Is that why you came to take a shot with me, trying to get me to pay attention to this needly little cunt like you always do?” 

"I was thirsty." I chuckle darkly. "Thirsty, huh." I take a step back, slipping the finger that was just inside of you into my mouth, savoring your taste. God, you taste so fucking good. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey from my desk, I pull the stopper out with my teeth. “And are you still thirsty, Princess?” You nod without hesitation. “Open your mouth,” I command. You obey instantly, and the sight of your open mouth, ready and waiting, sends a jolt straight to my already hard cock. I take a long swig from the bottle but don’t swallow. My hand remains firm on your throat as I lean in, our faces close, and I slowly spit the whiskey into your mouth.

“Swallow,” and you do. I feel your throat work under my grip. Fuck. “Good girl.” 

I bring my hand back under your dress and watch as your eyes roll back into your skill as I slide my middle finger into your glistening hole. You start to move your hips, and I can’t help but add a second. I work you for a moment longer before quickly pulling my fingers away and stepping back. Your eyes shoot open. 

“Joel, what?” you ask, “Why are you stopping?” 

“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” I say with a smile, sucking my fingers into my mouth, once again savoring the taste of you, enjoy the flavor of your slick mingling with the whiskey on my tongue. I take a step back, my cock painfully hard in my jeans, and take you in. 

God, you’re pretty like this. A little mad, flustered, dress wrinkled from my hands. I want to keep going, want to keep making a mess of you, but I need you to say it first. Need to know it’s what you actually want. 

“You’ve also been drinking,” I say, even though I know you’re not drunk, probably not even tipsy. 

“I’ve barely had anything to drink, I’m not drunk.” Just then, you press off the door and close the distance between us. “Well, if you won’t touch me, at least let me touch you,” you say, trailing your palm over my chest, fingertips catching on the buckle of my jeans before they fall lower to cup the hard bulge in my jeans.

“Let me take care of this,” you purr, and shit. How did this happen? I was supposed to be the one in control of this plane here. Mayday, mayday. We’re going down. 

“Princess,” I stutter, barely getting the words out, too lost in the feeling of you rubbing your hand over the denim, applying more pressure. I lean into it, craving the relief. You start to push me back towards my desk, and I let you, until the back of my legs hit the wood. 

You’re just standing there, holding my gaze, petting my cock like it’s a velvet bedspread. Just as I’m about to say something, you lower to your knees. Shit. Your hands move back to the metal of my belt buckle.

“May I?” 

As if I could ever say no. Words? They don’t exist anymore. Hell, I’m not even sure I exist anymore. Have I died and gone to heaven? I didn’t believe in God before this, but damn, I might start now, because from where I’m standing, you look like a fucking angel.

I nod, breath hitching as your fingers work the metal free.

“I wanna hear it,” you say, and god—every nerve in my body ignites.

“Yes, Princess. Let’s see how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth.” 

You have my pants undone and down in seconds, your movements quick and deliberate. Leaning in, you drag your tongue slowly along the length of my briefs, teasing, before pulling them down. My cock springs free, the relief of finally being out of those tight confines almost overwhelming. It practically tries to launch itself into your mouth, but you hold back, making me wait.

Instead, you wrap your hand around me, and lean in closer, your tongue flicking out to slowly lap up the bead of pre-cum at the tip. The groan that escapes me is involuntary—the feel of your hot, wet tongue against me sends a shudder down my spine. You lick me again, slow and deliberate, while your hand pumps the base of my cock. Fuck. If you keep this up, I’m going to lose it right here and now.

I force myself to think of anything else—anything not sexy. After some serious mental gymnastics, I manage to pull myself back from the edge. For now, I’m safe.

Well, at least I thought I was safe, and then you decided to put my cock in your mouth and take it as far down the back of your throat as you could go. Fuck. My hand instinctively wraps around the column of your throat, and I swear I feel you there. 

“Fuckkkkkk,” I groan. “God, you’re so fucking pretty like this, Princess.” I never really considered myself to be a vocal guy, but with you, all of that seemed to be thrown out the window. I’d sing you a fucking song if you asked me to right now. 

You’re taking me like a pro, even when I’m met with resistance at the back of your throat and you let out a little frustrated noise. “Didn’t think you could get any prettier, and then you started chocking on my cock,” I said, my voice husky and my throat tight. You look up at me through your thick eyelashes and nod as fiercely as possible.

I want the image of you on your knees with your red lips wrapped around my cock seared into my brain forever, so I take extra care to take a mental picture. 

I fist my hand in your hair, trying to remember to be gentle, but when I push my cock deeper down your throat, you moan. You slid the hand that wasn’t working my length under your dress to touch yourself. 

“Sucking my cock turns you on, doesn’t it Princess? You want me to fuck your face?” I ask, and you take your hand off my length and put it on my ass, pulling me deeper down your throat. 

I can’t take it anymore. I knot both of my hands into your hair and thrust into your mouth. Fuck, it feels so good. I don’t want to stop. I want to do this until I die. But I can’t – I don’t want to cum in your mouth. I need to feel your perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock before I do that. 

“Need to taste you,” you murmur, but before you can go any further, I reach down and pull you up to me, crashing your lips into mine. The kiss is rough, almost brutal, like we’re testing each other, seeing who can take more. I’m not holding back—I’m giving you everything.

I spin you around, pressing you between my chest and the desk, pinning you there. My hands slide over your hips, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress as I drag it upward. You start to bend over, and the sight of you, helpless and ready, makes my blood burn hotter.

“You sure you want this, Princess? Once I start, I’m not gonna be able to stop.” 

“Yes, Joel. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you say, and thank fucking hell for that. 

I rub my hands over the globes of your ass, my thumbs spreading your pussy open for me. You’re wet and glistening and perfect. I look down, open my mouth, and spit. My cock is already well wet from your throat, but I know I’m a lot to take, and I don’t want to hurt you. 

You wiggle your hips as if to say now, now.

“I got you, Princess,” and I mean it. I grip the base of my cock and line myself up against your wet and waiting hole, before I started pushing my cock into your wet heat. 

Holy. Fuck. 

You’re so tight. I grip your hips and work my way in slowly, going slow as you let out a little whimper. 

“It’s okay, Princess. You can take it. I know you can,” I say before thrusting one more time until I’m buried to the hilt inside of you. I pause, knowing if I start to thrust too soon, I’ll cum way too quickly. That can’t happen, not before you get off first. I take a deep breath and try to will myself back down from the solar system your cunt has propelled me to. It’s your voice begging for me to move that calls me back to my body. 

You don’t have to ask me twice. I start to move, pulling myself out slowly, admiring the grip of your skin on my cock as I do, and then I thrust back into you. Hard. I do it again and again. I lose myself in you and give you every inch of me that you’re willing to take, which you do so happily.

“More, Joel. Fuck me harder,” you beg, “Please.” 

And who am I to turn down a lady with such a polite request? I think about the guy who put his hand on you, and my next thrust is harder. I can feel my desk scraping across the floor, but I don’t care. I fuck you like that, my hands possessively on your perfect hips, as you clamp down on me so hard I start to see white. 

I pull you back up so you’re upright, still seated deep inside of you, as I snake my fingers around your body and play with your tits before dragging my hand down to your clit and start stroking it as I fuck you. I feel your pussy tightening around me, doing its best to milk me for every drop of my cum. 

You grab the hand that’s on my hip and move it up over your breast to your throat. I grip your throat and groan. “You like being fucked like this? Made into a little fuck toy for your daddy’s best friend, hmm? You like me using you like this, pinning you by your throat on my cock while I take what’s mine.” 

“Yes, Joel,” you whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” 

“Wanna hear you say it, Princess. Wanna hear you say who you belong to. Tell me you're mine,” I groan, my voice possessive. I can’t help it, I need to hear it. 

“I’m yours.”

“Damn fucking right you are, all mine,” I groan into your ear, tugging the lobe of it between my teeth and gently nipping at it, my grip on your neck still firm and my cock still thrusting into you like it was made for you and only you. 

“Joel,” you whine. It’s just my name, but it’s the way you say it and the feeling of your walls tightening on me that I can tell it’s your way of warning me you’re close. “Come for me, Princess. Show me how pretty you come,” and fuck if it wasn’t the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen a lot of pretty things in my life, but the sight of you orgasming on my cock is easily at the top of the list. 

‘Where do you want me, Princess? Can’t hold out much longer,” I say, still doing my best to hold you up and work you through the aftershocks of your orgasm while chasing my own. 

“Come inside of me, Joel,” and fuck. How am I supposed to deny a request like that?

It doesn’t take long. I start to feel the familiar build of my orgasm, that impending release that starts in my toes and builds higher and higher until all I can think about is you, filling you up, marking you as mine. A few seconds later, I do. 

I cum hard, deep. Did I intentionally make sure I was buried deep inside of you before painting your walls milky white? Yes. It would be a lie to say that I don’t get off on knowing you’ll be dripping with my cum for the rest of the night. 

Both of us now breathing heavily, I slowly ease myself out of you and watch the mixture of us drip down your thighs. 

“Hang on a sec, I’ll grab you some tissues,” I say, tucking my half-hard cock into my jeans and grabbing some of the tissues from the file cabinet next to my desk. I gently wipe my cum off of your thighs, and bring your dress back down over your ass and smooth the silk with my hands. 

You turn around, and I fold you into my arms.

I could get used to this. 

YOU

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt more at peace. Not only did you just experience the best fuck of your life, but now you’re nestled against his chest, surrounded by the intoxicating mix of his musk and cologne. You’ve been home for weeks, but it’s only in this moment that it truly feels like it.

You remember that line from Anna and the French Kiss—“Home isn’t a place, it’s a person.” You used to roll your eyes at that, but now, it makes sense. You get it. Completely.

His hands trace slow, soothing paths along your arms, the warmth of his touch grounding you. One hand slides up to your chin, and with a gentle press of his thumb, he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. He kisses you softly—still with that heat and passion, but this time, it’s slower, more deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment.

“Joel?” “Yeah, Princess?” “I don’t know what this means, but I want you to know—I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I know I’m your best friend’s daughter, and there are a million reasons we shouldn’t do this. Telling my dad is going to be hard, but… I want this. I want you.”

He tightens his hold on you, his eyes locked on yours, reflecting every emotion you're feeling. “I don’t know what this means either,” he says quietly, “but I know we’ll figure it out. And as for your dad… I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

You pull back, confused. What do you mean? My dad’s going to lose it when he finds out. It’s written all over your face, but Joel, sensing your concern, smirks before continuing.

“He was at the bar tonight.”

The words hit you like a punch.

END 

A/N Continued: The title of this work is based off the song Pretty Little Poison by Warren Zeiders. Thank you so much for reading! To be notified when I post fics, please follow my notifications blog @katiexpunkupdates.

Tags (lmk if you want to be removed! No hard feelings if so, ily guys.) // @legendary-pink-dot @syd-djarin @mermaidgirl30 @yxtkiwiyxt @survivingandenduring @pastawench @punkshort @alltheirdamn @hellishjoel @hotgirlbedtimescenarios

@miller-n-morgan-2 @clawdee @penvisions @darkheartgatita @pinkbowsandcoffeestains @magpiepills @endlessthxxghts @hellishjoel @punkshort @tightjeansjavi

[ultravcexxx]

[ultravcexxx]

[ultravcexxx]

[ultravcexxx]

[ultravcexxx]

ℕ𝕊𝔽𝕎 𝔸𝕊𝕂𝕊. 𝕊𝔼ℕ𝔻 𝕄𝔼 𝔸 ℕ𝕌𝕄𝔹𝔼ℝ. 𝔸𝕊𝕂 𝕎ℍ𝔸𝕋𝔼𝕍𝔼ℝ 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝕎𝔸ℕ𝕋.

1: 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢? 

2: 𝚁𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

3: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜/𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜? 

4: 𝚆𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

5: 𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗? 

6: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎? 

7: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜? 

8: 𝚂𝚎𝚡 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚍, 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛? 

9: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎? 

10: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐? 

11: 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎? 

12: 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

13: 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑? 

14: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

15: 𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

16: 𝙰 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍/𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑/𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

17: 𝙰 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝/𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠/𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

18: 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

19: 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛? 

20: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎? 

21: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎? 𝙸𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚝, 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞? 

22: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞/𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜? 

23: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝/𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎? 

24: 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍? 

25: 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡? (𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎, 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎, 𝚎𝚊𝚝, 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔) 

26: 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢? 

27: 𝙴𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

28: 𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

29: 𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

30: 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍: 

31: 𝚆𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 [𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖] 𝚘𝚗/𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞: 

32: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊���𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏? [𝙸𝚏 𝚗𝚘, 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞?] [𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚎𝚜, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔?] 

33: 𝙸𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖: 

34: 𝙰 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎: 

35: 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢: 

36: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚊𝚗𝚜? 

37: 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐: 

38: 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚝: 

39: 𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜: 

40: 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚍? 

41: 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍: 

42: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚗𝚞𝚍𝚎/𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜/𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏? 

43: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛/𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎? 

44: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎/𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌? 

45: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎/𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎? 

46: 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚎? 

47: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚐𝚊𝚢/𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚋𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚗? 𝚠𝚑𝚢/𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝? 

48: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚡? (𝚠𝚑𝚢/𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝) 

49: 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗? 

50: 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢? 

51: 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛? 

52: 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚝𝚎? 

53: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚗? 

54: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔? 𝚆𝚑𝚢? 

55: 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 “𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘”? 

56: 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚒𝚌 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛? 

57: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍, 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞? 

58: 𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚋𝚜? 

59: 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎? (𝚆𝚑𝚢?) 

60: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚘? 

61: 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚎? 

62: 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚎? 

63. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍? 

64. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗? (𝚒𝚎. 𝚝𝚘𝚢𝚜, 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚕, 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎) 

65. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚊/𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒����𝚎? 

66. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚟𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊/𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚜? 

67. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍? 

68. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 

69. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚗? 

70. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚝𝚘𝚢? 𝙸𝚏 𝚜𝚘, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝? 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚝𝚘𝚢? 𝙸𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚝, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘? 

71. 𝙶𝚞𝚢𝚜:𝙲𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍? 

72. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚝-𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍? 

73. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍? 

74. 𝙶𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜:𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗? 

75. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛? 

76. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖? 

77. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎? 

78. 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑? 

79. 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢/𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑? 

80. 𝙵𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗?  

81. 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚍? 

82. 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝙱𝙳𝚂𝙼? 

83. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚢? 

84. 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔? 

85. 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚡? 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗? 

86. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗? 𝚆𝚑𝚘/𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝? 

87. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑? 

88. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖? 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖? 

89. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖? 

90. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍? 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖? 

91. 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚝𝚜? 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕?