Tumgik
#dom/sub
snapshay023 · 3 days
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Things you SHOULD do when you kiss me:
Push me against the wall/door
Gently grab my chin and make me look into your eyes
Grab my waist and pull my body against yours
Caress my cheek
Pull my hair
Put your hand in the back pocket of my jeans
Bite my lip
Put your arms around my neck
Tease me
Look at me with those eyes of yours, that naughty look of yours is irresistible
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auteurdelabre · 2 days
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So Much to Lose PART SEVEN dark!Joel x f!Reader
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story summary: Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart.
rating: 18+
tags: Oral sex (m receiving), allusions to female masturbation, brief description of animal violence, angst, praise, dirty talk, nickname: Good Girl, mentions of postpartum, mentions of trauma, dom/sub dynamics.
a/n: Alright y'all I got some amazing comments from a hilarious person on A03 and it put me in such a good mood that I'm releasing this chapter ASAP. The comments really do make me write faster, as do reblogs and comments here... {hint hint}
I love y'all for following me and since I have almost 850 followers (when did that happen?) I'm planning something special for (if) I hit 1,000 followers here, somethin' real good.
Without further ado, here's the chapter and we find out a bit more about our MC's past and she and Joel finally talk about what's going on between them. . . sorta.
Chapter 6 here
___________________________
Chapter 7: Spoiled
You thought that the fear on patrols had abated. Not only were you on horseback, but you were paired with Joel, arguably one of the best shots in Jackson City.
So when he leads you to a path you aren’t familiar with, the first icy tendrils of fear slipping through you. When he orders you to stop your horse alongside his at the mouth of a forest you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit.
“Where are we?”
You speak so softly he doesn’t hear you, he stops just outside the dense forest, sliding off Midnight and tying him off to a nearby tree. He glances over his shoulder to see you still sitting atop Chestnut, your gun on your back and your eyes scanning the perimeter.
“What’re you waitin’ for?”
“What are we doing here?”
"We need to check the forest for traps," Joel explains to you. "The other patrol group sets ‘em up for large game. We check ‘em every couple of weeks." 
"Why can't we take the horses?"
"Too dangerous for ‘em inside," Joel explains. "We take ‘em in just enough to hide them but the roots and terrain are too much for ‘em. Too easy to twist their ankles." 
"Why can't the other patrols check?"
"They do," Joel says gruffly. "We take turns every week. This is our week. Now stop complainin' and let's go." 
You slide off of Chestnut at his order, but you make no move to go towards the forest. Too much is happening, too many noises and sounds and fears.
"J-Joel, I can stay with the horses." You don’t even hide the panic that’s crept into your voice.
"I said let's go," Joel huffs, gripping you by the upper arm and dragging you into the forest with him. He keeps his grip on you the entire way to the traps, almost knowing that the second he releases you, you’ll go rushing from the horrible dense of the forest.
Your feet drag but his grip is so strong that it doesn’t matter. Eventually you fall in line, marching alongside him. He doesn’t see that your eyes are closed, that he’s guiding you blindly through the forest. You simply lean into his grip, letting him lead as you follow.  
When you reach the traps a short while later he finally releases your upper arm. You find you immediately miss the safety of that grip and you are sure to stand close to him as he looks over the metallic traps.
“Why do you put them here?”
“S’where we find most of the game,” he explains distractedly as he surveys them. “Bait hasn’t been touched though, so nothin’s come by recently.”
He makes a circle around the perimeter and you can’t help but follow like a lost puppy. All of a sudden Joel stills. You can see the way his back goes rigid, his body coming to a full stop so abruptly you almost walk into him. 
You hear it, the gentle popping noise and you feel your body go numb with shock.
Clickers.
This is it. You're done for. You can’t even reach for your weapon, can’t even move a fraction. You’ve gone rigid, your eyes blown wide.
Joel raises his gun and you wait for the creature to come charging out of the woods.  You're confused when it goes off and a large bird falls to the ground away from you, thudding to the ground.
You’re still frozen in spot, watching as Joel walks over to it, nudging it with his foot. Satisfied he takes it by the beak, carrying it back to where you still stand looking terrified. His brows quirk.  
“S’wrong with you?”
"I thought it w-was one of them,” you whisper. “A clicker."
"Clickers sound different," Joel tells your blanched face. "More of a wet sound. But these birds sorta sound like em. S'why I kill em when I can." 
Joel looks to see your gun still strapped to your back, not even produced and you see irritation cross his face. 
"What would you do if you saw a clicker heading your way?" Joel asks you as the two of you walk through the forest back to the horses. "If you had no weapon and I wasn't here?"
Joel isn't one for casual conversation so you're immediately on guard. This is a test. But one you don't know how to pass. You glance around at your surroundings, noting the rocks and fallen branches from the trees. 
"Fire maybe?"
"You're gonna hunker down and build a fire while an infected is racin' towards you?" Joel scoffs. 
"Oh right," you mumble, feeling shame paint your cheeks. Your eyes scan around you again.  "Get a sharp stick? Stab it?"
"You get close enough to stab one you're already dead."
"A rock-"
Joel's deadened stare thrown over his shoulder at you stops you from guessing further and humiliating yourself. The two of you continue walking in silence before he finally breaks it. 
"If you see something coming towards you and you don't have a weapon, you gotta think smart," Joel explains. "You climb a tree, a good sturdy, tall one with thick branches. Infected can't climb trees."
"I've seen ‘em climb ladders," you argue. "And cars."
"Barely," Joel says patting the large tree trunk to his right. "And they'll only try to climb if they hear you up there. Once you're in the trees you stay still and quiet. Same goes for Raiders. You hide yourself in the tree and don't move. It's your only hope." 
"Okay."
"Repeat it."
"If I am unarmed and in danger I need to climb up a tree," you reply flatly. "I need to remain quiet and out of sight."
“Good.”
You shakily make it back to the horses and continue on with your usual patrols. When you get inside the old building and finish your log notes you pause to look at your dual signatures. How his wide printing almost looks like its shielding your tiny script.
He’s not as sullen as usual and you know it’s because of what’s going to happen. You share your lunch in an easy silence before you’re on your knees between he and the wall, your eyes covered by the red scarf, your hands bracing your thighs. His cock fills your mouth deliciously and you feel warmth blooming behind your ribs.
“Swirl your tongue,” he orders breathlessly and you acquiesce. You love that he tells you exactly what he wants. You love how good it feels to do this right, to have the rest of the world fade away, where all you can hear and smell and taste is Joel. To feel his heavy hand on the crown of your head, holding you gently in place.
He barely talks, just let's you bob your mouth along until you feel that familiar stutter of his hips that tells you he's close. He comes quickly today, his voice gruff.
"Swallow it down."
When you pull off him minutes later he doesn't unwind the scarf right away. You hear him breathing above you as he tucks himself away. Moments pass and you sit patiently, head cocked in curiosity. You feel as if he's staring at you, and you can't understand why. 
Finally he comes to unwind the scarf from around your eyes. You expect him to wordlessly walk from you, but instead he’s panting softly, his cheeks stained with red. He looks at your mouth, his tongue trailing over his lower lip.
"Show me your tongue," he demands in a low voice.
Even though this request seems unlike him you tilt your head back, opening your mouth widely and sticking out your tongue to show your clean tongue. 
You feel strangely vulnerable pierced by the quiet gaze of Joel Miller. You've done much filthier things than stick out your tongue but you're never been looking at him while you do it, able to see the haunted eyes that stare back at you.
"Good girl," he rasps.
You watch him zipping and buttoning his jeans before he casts one last look at you. He blinks slowly and then strides from the room, his face back in its customary scowl.
You listen for the front door downstairs to open and shut. You can’t even make it to the bathroom before your hands are sliding under your jeans and you’re whimpering as you bring yourself off to the rumbling chorus of good girl that echoes in your mind.
///
Later that week you artfully arrange the paper flowers in an amber wine bottle you got from the Tipsy Bison. You rest it on your kitchen table smiling at the colorful arrangement. After making Maria's second bouquet you found yourself eager to make one of your own to brighten the space. You like looking at it, enjoy seeing the bright colors in your unadorned home.  
You take the secondary bouquet of colorful flowers and wrap them in a strip of old cloth. The weather is drizzling and you don't want them to be ruined. You hide them in a small linen bag you use for groceries and then pull on your coat. 
The walk towards the dining hall is pleasant despite the drizzle and you're surprised at how many of the children laugh and run through the falling droplets. When you were a child there were always video games and television shows to occupy your space indoors on gloomy days. These children have none of those luxuries but you can’t help but observe that they look more joyful than you ever did.
No wasting life. 
Breakfast with Jennifer is a quick affair. She’s with that group of friends you met a while ago. The only one who stands out to you is tall Luke with the easy smile and soft countenance. He makes you feel at ease when you’re around him.
“Have you been practicing your shooting?” Jessica asks, looking effortlessly beautiful in her oversized sweater. Luke glances up from his breakfast, intrigued at the conversation. You pretend not to notice.
“Uh, not really. I don’t have a working gun of my own.”
Jessica is wide-eyed. “How could you not tell me? I have one that I don’t even use anymore! Come by tomorrow and I’ll show you how to use it.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Jennifer insists with a smile that makes you feel warm from the inside out.
You’re incredibly grateful for the kindness Jennifer has shown you, and despite how popular and well liked she is, she’s taken you under her wing. She has nothing to gain from it – except perhaps intel on Joel which you never seem to have. But you’ve noticed she asks about him less, she’s more interested in you.
It’s like she might be your friend. The first real friend you’ve had in a long time.
The walk over to Maria’s place is a quick one. The raindrops have stopped thankfully, but you worry that the swollen grey clouds above you might open up at any second.
The door opens on your first rap as if Tommy was waiting for you to arrive. He gives you a warm greeting, opening the door further and the aroma of fresh coffee floats out to greet you.
"Hi. Is Maria around?"
"Yeah she is, we actually have some folks over now-"
"That's fantastic," you say to him quickly before producing the flowers from inside the makeshift wrapping. "I tried some new designs out. Thought Maria would like 'em. Have a good morning."
He takes the bundle from you before you prepare to take off. You're so happy to hear that Maria is doing better; it makes your heart feel full.
"Wait, I wasn't sayin' that so you'd go," Tommy chuckles, long fingers touching your shoulder to stop you from leaving. "Come inside. We're havin' coffee. Maria’d love to see you." 
You pause before you think of what awaits you at home: nothing really. An empty house, no family, no books you haven't already read over and over. What could it hurt especially when it seems like his desire to have you come in might be sincere?
"Okay." 
You’re about to toe off your shoes when you notice the scuffed boots and mud splattered sneakers sat next to the door and you feel your stomach flip. You recognize those boots.
Tommy doesn’t notice your sudden reluctance, he simply ushers you into the living room where everyone sits chatting quietly before the fire. Maria and Ellie are deep in conversation next to each other on the couch. Joel sits in one of the armchairs, his ankles folded. He looks so at ease, his eyes on Ellie and a paternal look of love in his eyes.
The second you enter the room however and his dark eyes move to take you in, you see the gentle curl of his mouth disappear.
Good girl.
You feel a flutter of nerves go through you and you force your attention to the back of Maria’s head.
“Look who dropped by with more flowers,” Tommy announces before looking at you. “You want a coffee or somethin’?”
“No, I’m fine thanks.”
Maria looks up from where she sits next to Ellie on the couch and smiles at you. Joel gives you a lazy once over before turning his attention to the gently roaring fire. You don’t miss the tic in his jaw and for a moment you actually feel guilty that you’ve broken up this peaceful morning for him.  
“I’m so glad you came back,” Maria enthuses, her dark eyes shining with delight. “Please come take a seat.”
You settle into the empty chair by the fireplace opposite Joel as Tommy hands the flowers to Maria. You haven't seen Ellie much since she got irritated with you about the whole Jennifer thing. You give her a tentative smile from across the room, grateful when she returns it. 
"That's so cool," Ellie marvels, touching the paper petals gently.
"I wish I knew how to make these," Maria sighs happily as she gazes at them. "Seeing the other ones every day makes the place feel so cheerful. I'm gonna put these ones in the baby's room."
"I could teach you how to make them if you wanted," you offer gently. "It's not too complicated."
You hope you don’t sound pathetic and needy. There’s something about Maria’s vulnerability that calls to you. It makes you want to protect her in some way. You realize belatedly that it’s not just your Aunt she reminds you of, but your sister.
"I don't think I'd have the patience," Maria says with a gentle wave of her hand. "I just like looking at them."
"I wanna learn," Ellie pipes up, making you suppress a pleased grin. "I like flowers."
"Since when?" Joel murmurs with a smirk. You sneak a glance at him before looking back to Ellie who frowns at her father-figure.
"I've always liked flowers."
"Thought you were dead set on learnin' to bake," Tommy muses over his coffee mug. “I
"Maybe I wanna learn both," Ellie snarks back at him. "Is that a fuckin' crime?"
"Language," Joel mutters in her direction. 
"I'm happy to teach you both," you say with a little laugh to yourself. "Thought I can't say I'm an expert on either."
"Really?"
"Yeah, of course," you say before your eyes sail over to the unmoving authority figure by the fireplace. "If that's okay with you?"
"Only if she's done with her chores," Joel finally supplies with a sigh, gripping his coffee mug a little tighter. "And if you don't break the damn oven."
Of course his assumption would be that you'd break something. You try to hold in the grimace that threatens to spill over your features. 
Ellie makes a little hiss of victory before giggling at you. You feel the frost from your Jennifer misstep is behind you now. The sound of Douglas’ cries break into the room and both Maria and Tommy quickly move into the bedroom to console him. You look back at Ellie.
"How's school?"
"Boring," she answers honestly. "Can't wait until I'm done with it."
"I miss it," you tell her honestly as you shift in your chair. "I really loved being in class, sharing ideas, learning."
"You're weird."
"Ellie," Joel warns. 
"S'fine," you say with a soft chuckle. "I am weird."
Before Joel can reply Maria and Tommy have re-entered the room with Tommy holding a drowsy Douglas in his arms with Maria trailing after the two of them. 
"He heard your voice and wanted to say thank you for the flowers," she says kindly. 
You smile as Douglas is placed gently into your arms by Tommy while the glossy eyed Maria looks on. You smile down at the sweet angelic face, your voice a soft murmur. 
"Well, you're very welcome, Douglas." 
The baby blinks, grunting a moment and wiggling. He's warm in your arms, but not heavy. You slowly rock him in your embrace inhaling the sweet scent of milk and that intoxicating baby smell.  
"Hello," you coo softly at him as he stretches. Maria joins Tommy on the couch next to Ellie, curling her legs under her. 
The rest of the group has begun talking about the movie playing this weekend. Trying to decide between a western and some Disney thing someone found on patrols. You're distracted by Douglas' long eyelashes over caramel skin. The pout of his pink mouth and the way he gurgles a toothless smile up in your direction. 
"Adorable," you murmur, grazing his cheek with the pad of your thumb. "Aren't you just the sweetest thing, little Miller?"
You grin widely down at him, wanting to press a kiss to his downy forehead but holding back. He's not your family after all. Instead you take his tiny hand in yours, marveling at the perfection of his small fingers dwarfed by your own. 
"He's so perfect," you mutter more to yourself than anyone else. 
"Gets his good looks from his mama," Tommy says throwing his arm over Maria's shoulders. He presses a kiss to her cheek as she grins. 
"Ain't that the truth," Joel murmurs, drawing a good natured chuckle from Tommy. 
"You want kids?" Ellie asks you bluntly, forcing the attention of the room your way. You take a moment to consider the question. 
"I dunno," you finally answer honestly. "Never really thought about it."
"I sure don't," she replies easily. "They're noisy, they stink, and they’re just too much work."
"Same could be said for teenagers," Joel murmurs behind his coffee cup, drawing chuckles from everyone but Ellie who gives him a playful shove. 
You suppress a smirk before your finger traces down the soft cheek of Douglas''. He blinks up at you, gurgling again.
"Motherhood looks natural on you," Maria says in a voice laced with sorrow. You know what she's thinking. Tommy is glancing at her with concern in his features. 
"Not as natural as on you, Maria," you assure her kindly. "I promise."
Maria nods but it's clear she doesn't believe you. You don't know that you believe you either. But she needs to hear it, needs to know that she possesses it even if it doesn't feel like it right now. 
Tommy shoots you a grateful smile that you return. You can only imagine how hard it is to love someone so much and not be able to fix them. To have so few options to help now in this new world. 
"So you’re interested in the kitchen still, Ellie?" Tommy teases her. "Gonna whip us up somethin’ good? Be a real Martha Stewart?"
Ellie wrinkles her nose. "A who?"
Ellie starts talking about the kitchen but you're distracted by the bundle in your arms. Douglas has fallen asleep again and his tiny snores makes your mouth curl into a bemused smirk. 
You feel eyes on you and when you glance up you're surprised to see Joel's steady gaze on you holding the baby. When he catches you looking his way, his eyes snap over to his brother who is explaining all about Martha Stewart.
"We've got stuff to do," Joel says pushing himself up from the chair. "C'mon Ellie."
"I wanna stay."
"You've got chores," Joel tells her firmly. "And you've put ‘em off all week. Let's go."
His tone is stern but his face is pure patience as Ellie sighs dramatically. She comes to a stand sighing again and about to leave when she seems to remember something and steps towards you, her face suddenly animated.
"How about Sunday for baking? You can come to ours."
Go to Joel’s house? The thought has you in a panic, your eyes darting from her to Joel. "Uh, if it's okay with-."
"Joel is that okay?" Ellie claps her hands in front of her dramatically and she turns to face him. "Pleeeeeease?"
Joel moves his tongue to the corner of his cheek, looking thoughtfully at Ellie’s desperate face before sighing wearily.
"Just tell me what I need to get," Joel says to the space beside your head. "Eggs ‘n stuff like that."
"Sure. I'll give you a list on Thursday." 
Joel nods, still not making eye contact with you but that's okay. You don't really want him to. Just the mention of Thursday has you slick between your legs. You may not like Joel Miller but the thought of what the two of you get up to on patrols makes it easy to get through uncomfortable interactions with him.
The door creaks shut behind them as they leave and you take a few moments to rock the baby in your arms until Maria gives a soft yawn and you worry you’ve overstayed your welcome.
"I should probably go too.”
"Don't go," Maria insists almost desperately, her eyes wide. "He looks so happy with you holding him." 
You see the tears gathering in her eyes and you adjust the baby in your arms before sliding off your chair. Tommy seems to sense that you need privacy because he gathers the empty mugs and walks into the kitchen to wash them.
You stand, coming to sit next to Maria on the warm couch. She looks at Douglas warily, as if he's a stranger's child. 
"Hold him, Maria." 
"I can't."
"You can," you insist softly. "He's your son."
"I know he is," Maria says, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. "I look at him and I'm so confused. I carried him; I fed him with my own body. Why don't I feel that connection like other mom's do?"
"You're not the only one," you tell her, hand on her shoulder. "My aunt went through the same thing. Gave birth to my cousin and felt nothing. She wasn't herself for months. You’re not alone, Maria. You’re not a bad mom; you’re not a bad person. This isn’t something you’re doing on purpose. It’s your brain.”
Maria shakes her head, as if the words don’t mean anything. You know she hears them, but she can’t accept them.
“You have a husband and friends to support you. I promise you that you'll get to the other side. I promise." 
You know that it's a heavy gamble. But she needs to know that there's hope. She needs to know that this illness has plagued women across centuries. She looks at Douglas’ sleeping frame and after a moment of hesitation she allows you to place him in her arms. You watch as her eyes get soft, her breathing slowly decreasing.
"Some days I really feel like he's mine," Maria murmurs as she drags a gentle finger down the slope of his tiny nose. "Some days my heart feels like its overflowing. And sometimes that's worse than not caring."
You're silent, just listening to her speak. 
"Love makes you weak and afraid. I've never been afraid of anything," Maria tells you, rocking Douglas gently in her arms. "But now that's all I am. Like one exposed nerve.”
Fat tears are sliding down her cheeks. You can’t help but run a soothing hand down her spine, rubbing up and down gently. She accepts your touch, even melts back into it.
"We shouldn't have done it," Maria hiccups a sob. "We were fucking idiots to have a baby in this world."
“You aren’t an idiot,” you insist. “You and Tommy loved each other so much you wanted to create life together. How is that stupid? That’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”
Maria sniffles, tears dropping onto the blanket holding Douglas.
“All I can think about is what I'd do if Raiders broke in. Or what if Douglas got bit? Or what would happen if Tommy and I got killed on patrols?  I'm terrified to leave him alone. Terrified that something is gonna happen to him if me or Tommy aren't around."
You can hear the clattering of mugs being washed in the kitchen. You wonder if Tommy is listening and you hope that he is, because you worry he might be having the same fears.
“Douglas is going to grow up, just like all the other kids in Jackson City. Happy and safe and loved. He’s going to grow up to be a good person just like his parents. He’s going to be smart and kind and who knows, maybe he’ll be part of finding a cure.”
Maria blinks over at you as if just realizing this possibility.
"Maria I never had kids," you tell her, hand rubbing over her own. "But I had a younger sister and she felt like my kid sometimes. Especially when my parents got separated when we were fleeing the city.
Maria stares at you, rubbing the tears from her eyes.
"When the pandemic started my mom was visiting her Aunt in Wyoming," you explain. "My sister and my dad and I, we escaped to the nearest QZ." 
“I never saw my Mom again,” you explain and you’re shocked at how deadened your voice sounds. It’s no longer a hurtful memory, more just a patchwork on the quilt of your trauma. Its life, you’ve accepted it. “The first day I got here I was sure I’d find her here. Sure that she survived somehow.”
“But she wasn’t here,” Maria finishes for you. “I would have recognized the last name.”
You shake your head slowly. “She wasn’t here.”
You think Maria might want to ask more about your history but you hear Tommy's voice filter in from the kitchen. 
"Joel, what're you still doin' here?"
Your head snaps to look over your shoulder. Joel is here? Had he heard anything? The thought curdles your insides. It was hard enough sharing this much with Maria. Knowing that Joel might have overheard is much worse. 
"Saw Jason out by the gates and he said that the lumber’s coming in Saturday,” Joel mutters. You can't see him in the next room but you hear the scrape of his boots on the wood flooring. "Thought you’d wanna know so you could get a group together.”
The two men mumble back and forth to each other and you hear the telltale sound of the door opening and closing behind Joel. You feel your heart hammering in your chest, suddenly anxious at the thought that Joel knows about your life. 
Tommy enters back into the room, his eyes on Maria. He sees her holding Douglas and you can see the sun break into his previously cloudy eyes.
"I should get going." You stand, looking down at Maria’s tear-stained face. "Sorry for showing up unannounced."
"You're welcome anytime," Tommy assures you warmly before coming to sit next to his wife. He slings his arm around her shoulders, looking down at his son in her arms.  
"Yeah," Maria agrees with a watery smile. "Please stop by again soon. I mean it."
“Okay, I will.”
///
Joel seems strange on patrols today. 
It started with handing him the list of supplies you’d need for baking. Instead of a smart remark he just nodded, taking it from you and shoving it into the back of his jeans pocket. The ride to Teton Village had been in its usual silence, you noticed that the snow from last week had turned into a slushy mess which meant the horses moved a little slower.
By the time you reached the old building with its log book you were more than a little eager. You’d woken up that morning particularly slick between the legs, a Pavlovian response to patrol days.
Joel is still near silent, not even looking at you when he brings out his bag for lunch. He pushes your sandwich and thermos to you, watching you carefully as you eat. Normally Joel stares anywhere but your face during patrols, unless he’s getting angry with you. Today however he seems a bit tense, his gaze a bit heavier than usual. 
It makes you uncomfortable. It makes you wonder what he’s thinking.
“I feel like Chestnut was walking a little weird the last mile or so,” you observe to break the silence. “Do you think you could take a look at his horseshoe before we go?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
The quiet stretches on,
“So what was the lumber for?”
“Huh?”
“You mentioned lumber back at Tommy’s,” you say, feeling like the peanut butter is sticking to the roof of your mouth.  “I was wondering what it was for.”
“S’for repairs on the window upstairs,” he tells you gruffly, taking a large bite of his sandwich.
“Oh right.”
You decide not to press things; he doesn’t seem to be in the chatting mood.  Lunch passes slowly, despite your anticipation for what comes next. Your heart is actually thrumming when Joel wipes his hands on his jeans and tilts his head for you to follow him.
You go into the room with the fireplace and couch and watch him shift into a comfortable seated position. The old frame creaks under his bulk and he stares at you standing, waiting and watching him.  He undoes his belt buckle, the clinking noise causing your thighs to press together tightly.
You walk towards him, eyes on his large hands.
"On your knees."
You acquiesce without thought, your jeans biting into the cold floorboards below. Joel watches you from under hooded eyes. The sight of him seated there disheveled, belt unbuckled and legs spread does something to you.
When he doesn't make a move for your scarf or anything else you feel a prickle of insecurity go through you. You blink up at him, swallowing only to have him frown down at you. 
"Do you actually like this?"
You don't like the way he says it, like there's something wrong with you if you do. You stand shakily, your eyes on the floor as you give him your murmured response.
"I do, yeah." 
Joel is a statue with eyes that burn like coal. You feel them even if you don't see them until you peer at him still seated insouciantly there on the couch. 
"You like me orderin' you around?" His voice is grated around the edges, his eyes holding nothing but disbelief. "Tellin' you what to do?"
"I like you being in charge," you correct.
"Why the fuck would you want somethin' like that?” Joel insists, cheeks pinking. “Someone orderin' you around?" 
"I think you need it the same way I do. Only you need to be giving the orders. Am I right?" 
Joel swallows and you see his large eyes widen a fraction as he takes in your words. You feel strangely emboldened by his lack of response, by the fact that you’ve taken him by surprise. And perhaps since you’ve been doing this for over a month you feel that you can voice this.  
"Am I right?"
He still doesn't reply, instead he crosses his thick arms over his chest and just stares you down. It doesn't intimidate you like it once did, but it does prompt you to answer him. 
"Because when you make the rules and do the ordering my mind goes quiet," you explain softly. "I'm not afraid, I'm not angry, I'm just... Free. I'm not in control but I'm choosing not to be." 
And you know just by the way his shoulders relax that Joel understands. He understands because it's what happens when he has you under his palm, mouth sliding on his cock, when he wraps the scarf around your eyes and tells you not to touch.
The choosing. The control. 
You’d known from the very first time he'd given you the order. You'd seen in there in the dark of his eyes that he liked the dynamic.
But you sense the hesitancy in him, a guilt that he shouldn't be enjoying it so much. His eyes take on a large, wounded appearance and it’s so clear that he’s wondering if he’s done something wrong.
"You've never given me anything I didn't want, Joel.” 
That seems to get through to him, because he blinks away that little lost boy gaze. 
You lower yourself to a kneeling position at his feet again. But you make no move to touch him. You simply bow your head, your hands clasped demurely on your thighs. You hear him shift unconsciously in his seat. 
"What're you doin'?"
"Tell me what to do, Joel."
You stare at his boots, never venturing to his face but you can feel him watching you, his large hand twitching at his side on the cushion. He looks down at you with uncertainty as you eventually tilt your face up to him. 
"Tell me what to do," you urge him again in a voice barely above a whisper. "Please."
You feel a rush of relief go through you when he nods and you can see the hard length of him through his jeans. You gingerly pull the scarf from around your neck, letting it hang in your grip loosely. You wait for him to retrieve it, eyes on the floor.
"No scarf," he rasps. "I know you'll listen. Close your eyes."
You do, feeling that tingle go through your body at his order. His large hand comes to the crown of your head, fingers snaking through the strands and tugging your face up. You keep your eyes firmly shut, not even considering peering through your lashes to see his face. You have your orders.
"Take me out and suck."
And you do, just as you have every other patrol for the last month. Only now it feels so much better because there’s no confusion. He gives you take, you give he takes. Your submission driving him forward, his domination calming your overworked nervous system. 
"You do like takin' orders," he observes with a groan. "Like bein' told that you're a good girl."
Your breathing elevates when you hear that term and you just know the corner of his mouth twitches.
"Yeah. S'what I thought." 
His hand is still wrapped in your hair, tugging you gently. Your lips feel rubbery and wet as you take him deeper. Your hands remain clasped on your lap. When you feel Joel twitch on your tongue you give a soft sigh through your nose, a feeling of blissful satisfaction. 
"Look at me," Joel murmurs.
You take a moment to consider if you heard him right, but then he repeats himself and you slowly gaze up the length of him. He's tilted over you with heavy eyes, mouth parted. A greying curl is stuck to his sweaty forehead. 
"Christ," he grits through his teeth. "Look ‘atcha there, mouth stuffed with my cock."
Desire blooms in you, snaking behind your ribs, down your veins, into your very bloodstream.  
"What happened to that soft thing makin' cookies?"
You happened, Joel. 
When Joel's quiet rasp reaches you again you physically shiver.
"You like bein' on your knees for me?" Joel grunts as his hips jerk forward.
You nod, your cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper into your throat. He lets out a strangled noise, tossing his head back.
"Fuck!" Joel glances down to see you still staring up at him, lips swollen around his shaft. "Look away now."
It doesn't sound like a cruel order, more a plea. You close your eyes, giving a small noise of protest when Joel brings himself out of your mouth. 
"Wanna come on your tits," he instructs with a rasping growl and you hear him stroking himself furiously. "Take em out for me."
Despite this being uncharted territory for you both you don't hesitate. Your hands fumble with your sweater and you pull it over your head, tossing it to the floor. Joel watches as you unclasp your bra, letting it join the sweater. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the room. 
You're still not looking up at his face as instructed; so you don't know what he thinks. All you know is that the stroking is increasing. 
"Head back, eyes closed," he pants, his voice tight. 
You tilt your head back, eyes firmly closed. You feel vulnerable in this position, an animal who has bared their neck to a predator. Despite this you cup your breasts, offering them to him. 
"Good girl," Joel says with a grunt. "Fuckin' good… So good for me."
And the praise hits you so strongly that you whimper aloud. This is what sends Joel over the edge and he comes with a strangled groan, painting your tits with stripes of his warm spend. 
Your dual panting fills the room and you wish you could see yourself covered in Joel Miller's come. You wonder what he sees when he looks down at you covered in his essence. Proud? Embarrassed? Guilty?
"Open your eyes."
You blink them open immediately, your gaze flying to your chest covered in him before glancing up at him. Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, looking at you as if he’s still not convinced you’re real.
He reaches towards you and you don’t flinch when you watch his thumb come to gently trace over your right nipple, the spend there clinging to his digit. You feel a shiver run through with the contact of his hand on you. 
You watch mesmerized as his palm cups your cheek, his fingers curling gently against your jaw. His thumb hovers scant inches from your swollen lips. Your eyes can't help but dart to his face again and the sight of his eyes blown black makes you quiver. 
"Open," he says barely above a whisper. 
Your mouth parts, eyes still on his face. He slowly lowers his thumb into your mouth. It rests there on your tongue, heavy and damp. 
"Suck." 
Your lips wrap around his thumb, licking the digit clean before sucking it suddenly, nestling him into the concave of your upper palate like he belongs there. He watches this all with quiet fascination, eyes strangely sorrowful through it all, like it pains him to do it. You suck, your smooth tongue cradling his wide thumb. 
His hand is still cupping your cheek, even when his thumb is removed and drags down your lower lip, his gaze watching its descent. His brows saddle when you sigh gently, eyes locked with his. 
And then he yanks his hand from you so quickly that you flinch. You’re completely thrown by the behavior, covering your chest instinctively. He looks at you kneeling between his legs and he shakes his head as if to clear it.
You shuffle backwards as he stands abruptly. You sit there at his feet, covered in his cooling spend, shooting him a confused look. 
"We ain't doin this anymore," he tells you brusquely as he quickly zips up his jeans before buttoning it with trembling fingers.
"Why not?"
"Cuz I said so," he mutters before he shoots an ugly sneer your way. "You said you like takin' orders so this must be your lucky day." 
You can only shake your head in disappointment as he leaves the room. You don't know what happened but Joel is back to his old, asshole self. The door below slams behind him and you go to the bathroom to clean yourself up. Today there is no sliding your hands underneath your jeans and getting yourself off.
All traditions have been spoiled by Joel's selfishness. 
----------------------------------------
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represent-soon-town · 12 hours
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water-nothing · 2 days
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orchidpalace · 2 days
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spanking you just to remind you to be a good toy for me
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sinfulsubccubus · 16 hours
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Galatians 5:19
Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality.
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mummyworldsworld · 17 hours
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sugar on my tongue by deadratz
@munsonkitten
Rating: Explicit
29,000 words (as of posting), 3/? chapters
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Tags: Sugar Baby Eddie Munson, Sub Eddie Munson, Soft Dom Steve Harrington, Gift Giving, Oral Sex, Hair-pulling, Misunderstandings, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Smoking, Drinking, Virgin Eddie Munson, Sugar Daddy Steve Harrington, accidental sugar baby/sugar daddy, Hand Jobs, Gay Eddie Munson, Queer Steve Harrington, Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, Panic Attacks, Chronic Pain, Bottom Eddie Munson, Snowballing, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Top Steve Harrington, Anal Sex, Love Confessions, Angst, Happy Ending, Parental Issues, Mental Health Issues
Summary:
If there's one thing Eddie's piece-of-shit father taught him, it's that nothing is free. Everyone is always looking for something in return. That's why, when Steve starts giving Eddie gifts, Eddie tries to find ways to pay him back.
Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @munsonkitten. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!
You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!
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subrina-heart · 2 days
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Giving a puppy a handjob so that he can release all the cummies inside his boy part. Pulling his underwear down as his boy part bounces out, already hard and standing tall. Softly gripping it and stroking it as baby boy moans in pleasure. Precum dripping out as mommy rubs it around the head. Squeezing his balls so the boy juices can move up to his boy part.
Puppy whines and whimpers as he watches mommy move up and down his boy part. She looks at him and giggles to keep his attention on her. Increasing the speed slowly, she praises baby boy for being so amazing and needy. Moaning and twitching softly, puppy feels his cummies ready to burst soon. Mommy goes faster and faster until puppy begins to shoot out his boy juices. It covers his belly with lovely, thick loads of creamy cum up to his chest. Mommy gets some cum on her hand as she grips it firmly, looking at the gorgeous mess she assisted puppy with making.
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snapshay023 · 22 hours
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soft and sweet
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softd0m-charlie · 17 hours
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hey btw why were so many people (mostly girls) in like middle or even elementary school constantly socially assigning people a "top" or a "bottom" based solely on how they acted around others and how shy they were??
no alexis i am not a "soft cute little smol bean subby boy" or whatever, I'm just traumatized and undiagnosed autistic and also we're both 11 years old and I'm trying to pay attention to our teacher doing a lesson right now. your parents should've never given you unrestricted internet access. delete wattpad.
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patheticangelz · 2 days
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hiii !! i need an older guy 2 talk to sooo bad >_< !! but but but i’m not looking for anything too serious, just someone 2 text when i rlly need it.. plsplspls !! ♡
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prettypinklich · 6 months
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dontmakemeright · 4 months
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The urge to make him painfully hard when we're out in public.
To rub his inner thighs near his crotch while we're sitting next to each other, brush against his nipples by accident, whisper the most disgusting things into his ear, to kiss his pretty neck a second too long. To see him crumble, see his pupils dilate, his pants getting too tight.
To make him a dumb and blushy mess for me until he's not even able to talk, just waiting patiently like a good boy until I finally take him home.
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babygirlbondage · 5 months
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youre a sweet little thing that needs to be talked to softly and babied but youre also a dumb slut who need to be fucked til your sobbing and pleading for it to stop. you deserve both <3
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master-xochimilli · 2 months
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Awww you're so small and cute~ *gropes you gropes you gropes you grinds my cock against your needy hole gropes you*
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